Although Women's Lib has offered equal opportunities to women once open to men, the fact remains there is a difference between the sexes, and as the French have so aptly observed, Vive Le Difference. And when dealing in the business world, whether a woman-likes it or not, she has the weapon of her body, with which men cannot compete. Although the men with whom they deal expect women to be every bit as efficient as their male counterparts, there are times when the woman is selected over a male competitor simply because the man selecting her wants more than business from her.
Plunged into this world of high finance is Priscilla Penard, a sweet, innocent virgin, who not only loses her virginity quickly enough, but all her innocent notions, as well. She discovers there is a law of survival in business, and since she is better equipped to survive than most, she quickly adapts.
Here then, laid bare, in every respect, is what goes on behind the veneer of what appears to be business and finance, for this book goes behind the scenes to show just how a woman can survive. And though most women might object, claiming this is not so, the fact remains, one rarely sees a female business leader about to have some kind of mental breakdown, no matter what she has done. It therefore follows, a hard businesswoman is tougher than the ordinary female, and though she might not admit anything openly, the fact is, knowing what she has to do to compete in a man's world, she will do anything.
-THE PUBLISHER
CHAPTER ONE
Although she'd petted a bit in high school and college, Priscilla Penard had never expected to find herself in this position, this quickly. Modest, unassuming, and innocent, she had never been able to appreciate the fact she was a truly beautiful girl, looking much like Snow White of the fairy tale. Her face was stunning, absolutely beautiful beyond imagination, inspiring more than one boy in elementary and high school to have wet dreams about her. And yet, her innocence had been such, that even when she went out on dates while in college, the boys hadn't the courage to "defile" her. Her fluffy black hair and milk-white flesh made the hackles rise on the back of each boy's neck. But when the animal instinct was about to take over, even when the boy was petting her breasts through her blouse, her big brown eyes filled with pure innocence always stopped the boy.
Priscilla had never developed large breasts, but what she had was large enough, and certainly firm enough. Her hips were not too large or round, but neither were they boyish. True, her behind was nicely shaped, as were her long, slender thighs and calves. Put together as she was, she made every male, from nine to ninety-nine, drool at the sight of her.
Her parents had warned her about fooling around with men, but Priscilla had no idea what they meant by "fooling around" since neither of her parents had gone into any specifics. But what her parents had failed to take into consideration was her inner development, her emotional growth. There were nights when Priscilla had been unable to sleep because of certain inner tensions. And there had been no way to relieve this tension. No one had ever discussed mastrubation with her, and she had no idea what it was all about. So she continued suffering, at night.
She had gone to a two-year business college after leaving high school, studying stocks, bonds, and mutual funds, and by the time she had completed her course, she had also completed the New York Stock Exchange tests, as well as the National Association of Securities Dealers tests, thereby gaining a license to sell all kinds of stocks and bonds, as well as mutual funds.
Armed with these licenses, Priscilla had applied to the local branch of Jacobson & Co. for a job. The head of Jacobson, Ben Mallard, was in his late seventies. He'd already suffered one stroke, and he knew damn well that thinking about what he'd like to do to Priscilla could send his blood pressure soaring sky-high. Yet her apparent business abilities were too good for him to overlook. So he hired her, offering her a one hundred and fifty dollar draw against commission.
Mallard turned Priscilla over to his second-in-command, Mike Marcus, and for the first time in his life, Marcus was sorry he was a religious man. He knew he would never be able to get work done with this raven-haired goddess around, so he turned her over to the head of the trust department, Paul Fink. And it was Fink who displayed all the conscience of a rattlesnake in his training of both Priscilla Penard, and another, equally attractive young lady by the name of Stephanie "Steffie" Sanders. Steffie was as blonde as Priscilla was brunette, and though her face lacked the pure innocence written all over Priscilla's, her mind was even more innocent. like Priscilla, Steffie took everything told to her at face value. So it was, that when Paul Fink explained the two girls should use their feminine attributes to make a man want to use either of them as a customer's woman, or stock broker, both girls accepted what he told them. He explained if they made a man feel good, he would always be relaxed around them, remaining calm when he heard their voices, no matter how adverse market conditions may appear.
Fink, himself, was unable to believe he had lucked into these two virgins. More, he found it increasingly difficult to believe both girls were indeed virginal. There was only one way to find out, and today, on this Monday in early October, he intended to discover the truth.
In order to do things a bit more easily, he felt it might be wiser to separate the two girls for a while, so he sent Steffie to the order department, where she was to learn how incoming and outgoing stock orders were handled. Alone with Priscilla now, he locked his small office door and sat on the vinyl sofa with her. He wanted her to give him a demonstration of how she could put a man at ease and make a better customer of him.
Priscilla kicked off her shoes and curled up beside him on the sofa. She had gotten over her distaste of him after awhile, and in spite of his immense nose, looking almost exactly like a proboscis attached to the late Charles DeGaulle, she had also been able to overlook his nauseating personality and accept the fact that he was, after all, a man.
Her fingers began lightly dancing up and down his back, from his neck to the base of his spine, then back again. Her tickling fingertips were a tender, feathery, gentle caress just lightly skimming across the shirt against his back, moving lower and lower, dipping below his waistline, and teasing the top of his coccyx.
Paul was a middle-aged man, and his experience, until now, had been limited to his wife. This was understandable, considering how ugly he was. And his wife, who was, herself, an extremely attractive woman, had sincerely believed a man as ugly as he had to have a vibrant personality. She was certain he was cloaking it under a veneer of dullness. It was only after fifteen years of marriage that she realized he was every bit as dull as he appeared. By then, it was too late to do anything, because he was earning a good living as the head of the Jacobson Trust Department, giving her all the good things money could buy. She had been wise enough to continue squirreling away a lot of the money, and one day soon, when she had enough saved up, she'd be able to leave him and live comfortably all by herself.
Already panting, Paul Fink found it difficult to believe a girl as sweet and lovely as Priscilla was as naive and innocent as she appeared. But just as he was as dull as he seemed, so was she, at that moment, as innocent as she appeared. Yet under his instruction, she was learning rapidly.
At his order, she moved her hand beneath his shirt, tugging it out from behind, yanking on it until it was totally free of his pants. Priscilla didn't think twice about doing it, though this was going farther than she had ever gone with Fink before. Even so, he seemed to know what would be best to help her get ahead in her job.
She seemed to know what to do, having done the same thing on top of his shirt, so often. Her fingers roamed through the thick forest of hair matting his chest. It seemed to make up for the lack of it on his head.
Paul instructed her to remove his shirt, and Priscilla did so, being careful not to wrinkle it. Now, for the first time, his hands were beginning to roam, and he could feel her small, firm, quivering breasts under the sheerness of her blouse and the softness of her cotton bra. God! She had nice, solid tits. And she had enough sense not to stop him as his palms caressed them.
Priscilla thought she ought to say something about his intimate touching, but then she figured other men might want to touch her there, and if it would help her sell more securities, well then, why not. Besides, it felt very nice. She gasped and rotated her lithe, slender body against his hands, feeling the way he pressed his palms into her stud-like nipples. The more he rubbed, the more her nipples lengthened, and when he instructed her to remove her blouse, she heatedly responded, pressing her bra-filled cups more solidly into his palms as the blouse slithered off. Oh God! He might be ugly, but he sure knew how to use his hands.
And then she was kissing him, just as she kissed the boys with whom she went out on dates. Her thin, tasty lips were pressing against his large, swollen lips, and her mouth was open, welcoming his exploring tongue inside. She responded with her own tongue, licking and touching his teeth. Kissing a man seemed like such a nice way to make him do something. Pris enjoyed it.
She felt the warmth of his chest against hers as he pulled her closer, and for a moment she missed the way his hands had caressed her breasts. Then she felt his fingers behind her, at the snaps of her bra, and suddenly he was loosening it, undoing it, and she felt it slide from her shoulders. Her warm, firm, small breasts were being titillated by the jungle of hair on his chest, and being kept warm, too. Her nipples felt the kinky hairs curl around them, teasing them, making them swell and grow even longer. God! The man had a way about him.
Paul pulled her body away from his so he could glance down at her firm, white boobs. He admired their firmness, not caring in the least they weren't boulder-sized. On a girl like Priscilla, huge mammary development would have looked out of place. They were beautifully round and shaped perfectly, and he could see light blue veins tracing their way through her marble-white flesh. He liked the rich pinkness of her aureoles, each larger than a silver dollar and surrounding a vibrant nipple of equal pinkness.
His fingers reached out and, between his forefinger and thumb, he was able to grip the enlarged nipple, marveling at how thick it was, considering how small her round breasts were. His fingers found it spongy and thickly resilient, and he squeezed it. Then he pushed the nipple into the round pap, ajmost as if he were pushing in a doorbell button. And like the button on a doorbell, it popped out the moment he released it.
His heavy lips began kissing the smooth whiteness of her throat, though his right hand was constantly massaging each breast in turn.
"Move your hands lower and start rubbing my thighs," he told her.
Priscilla shrugged and did as she was instructed, letting her fingers move along his pants, pressing his thigh flesh underneath. His left hand guided her fingers to his inner thighs, leading them into his groin. Unused to touching a man there, Priscilla moved her hand back to his outer thighs.
Taking his lips from hers, Paul said, "Pris, I'm doing this for your own good. You have to learn everything to charm a customer. Remember, this isn't like mutual funds, where once you make the sale, it's over. You have to sell him again and again. As long as a man has money to invest, you must be the one through whom he invests."
"Look," she answered, "I'm grateful for all this, but tell me, what do you get from all this?"
Paul swallowed the obvious answer. He said, "Well, many of the people who will be investing will want to start trusts, and that's where I come in. We set up investment accounts for them of great magnitude, and both you and I share in the commissions. Actually, I get an override on your commission, and you, in turn, will be getting a fat slice of the pie. But in order for you to convince these people to trust you, you have to show you trust them."
"How do I do that?"
"By allowing them to do as they please with you, so long as there is no pain. You'd be surprised how much you'll enjoy it, yourself. Actually, you have to do more than let them do things. You have to help them. Am I clear?"
"I suppose," Pris nodded.
Paul had no worries about making the girl pregnant. He had had a vasectomy only a year earlier, and it was virtually impossible for him to impregnate any girl. He also had a doctor who was a friend and who would prescribe the Pill for Priscilla, making her think they were special vitamins so she wouldn't think of herself as being in any kind of danger. By the time she lost her naivete, she would be grateful to him for making her take the Pill. Besides, the doctor was no less horny than Paul, and before prescribing the Pill, would also assure her he would like to invest in a trust fund. As it was, Paul Fink was the doctor's regular broker, and the doctor had no intention of giving any girl some of his business. The mere fact that Paul sent him a girl now and again assured Paul of continually receiving business from the doctor.
Pris, as naive as ever, had no idea Paul Fink would screw her in more than one way. Highly impressionable, she sincerely believed what she was doing would help improve her business relationship with male clients. She felt grateful Paul Fink was taking the time to teach it all to her.
Now, anxious to obey him, she moved her hands inward again, this time allowing them to linger a bit longer before sliding them outward. And each time her fingers moved inward, they touched against the long, hard, cylindrical swelling of his pulsating prick. Never having seen a man's penis, she had no idea what it was she was touching, and she was almost afraid to hold onto it. But when Paul assured her that what she was doing made him feel good, she seemed more delighted than ever, rubbing her hands against his phallic rod repeatedly, feeling the heat burning through the pants.
Paul was beginning to pant at the way her fingers were working. He was aching to yank his pants down and free his throbbing cock so she could fondle and play with it. One day he would even convince her to suck it, and imagining the sight of her beautiful face surrounding his meat roll only made him that much hotter.
Raising her torso a little, she pressed her hot, round tits into her face, letting the nipple of her right breast graze his lips.
She sure learns fast, Paul thought.
Opening his mouth, he stuck out his tongue and began licking, letting the point of his tongue circle the nipple again and again, tasting the goosepimply hardness of the rubber bud. Pris trembled, and tightly enclosed his head with both her arms, pressing his face closer to her hot tits.
She trembled, thrilling to the heat of his breath as it ran up from her nipple to her breast. He had a nice way of kissing her there, and even though his nose was long, it didn't get in the way.
Paul eased his head away from her body and grabbed at the two small bowls of flesh with his hands. Even though they were small, the breasts felt so full and firm. Because they were so small, he couldn't press them together, and the valley between them was very wide. But it was a lovely white, clean valley, and he was unable to resist leaning forward and licking into it with his long, hot tongue. He licked her white, warm flesh again and again, lapping all over. He moved his head from side to side, using his tongue to wet her white breasts all over except for the aureoles and nipples. For a moment he avoided touching them, knowing his tongue, lapping at her alabaster flesh, would have her aching for him to lick her nipples again.
Pris began squirming and writhing, attempting to bring her nipples to his mouth, first turning one way to try and bring her left nipple to him, and then turning the other way and bringing her right nipple to him. But each time she moved, he moved his tongue, continually washing the whiteness of her flesh without touching the pink; driving her mad with shuddering lust she'd never known was inside her. His hands pushed hard on the outside of her small breasts in some kind of attempt to bring them together, so his licking between them might feel like a wet cock sliding into her cunt. But her firm jugs just weren't large enough.
Now he began licking the pink caps of each aureole, still avoiding her nipple. It made her writhe all the more, and she wished he would lick the nipple.
Finally, unable to stand it any more, she whispered, "My nipples. Suck my nipples."
Now Paul realized how well his oral tactics were working. He was making her beg to have her nipples lapped. He was getting her so sexually aroused that she was becoming part of what was happening, and this was important. For if she enjoyed it, he would have no trouble using her to keep all his large investment clients happy. With a little bit of luck, he'd be able to entice Steffie into doing the same thing, and he would have a blonde and a brunette, thereby able to satisfy the tastes of most of his clients. And by the time Jacobson & Co. decided to fire the girls for lack of production, he would be "training" two more to take their place. He finally had it made after all these years. And he was going to enjoy it to the hilt.
His tongue began lightly licking the nipples again, first the right one, then the left, compressing his lips around them one at a time, and pulling. He enjoyed watching each tit seemingly pull away from the rest of her body as his lips tugged on the extended nipple, strongly sucking the thick nails of elastic pinkness.
"Ummmmmmm . . . " she moaned softly.
Yes, he was getting to her, all right. He was really turning her on, arousing her, building the banks of flame higher and higher inside her. It was truly a pleasure, too. Her flesh was so clean and tasty. He had no idea his was the first mouth to suck these lovely nipples, otherwise he might have lingered there all day.
As it was, he was sucking harder, working on the left teat, then the right. Pris caressed his ugly face between the soft palms of her hands, pulling his lips into her small mounds as if each were a tiny rubber cushion.
Her nipples were like soft candy in his mouth, so chewy, so delicious, and he began biting into them, making her writhe and gasp even more. His teeth bit into each soft aureole as his wildly licking tongue caressed the flesh. And Pris became more and more aroused, writhing all the more, gasping all the louder, breathing that much more heavily.
Remembering how much he had enjoyed her touching that thick piece of pipe at his groin, she moved her fingers lower, seeking his cock. At the same time, his own hot hands moved along her slender waist, sliding over her slightly swollen hip, moving gently across the front of her thighs until they reached the soft bulge of her own pelvic mount.
Pris jumped at his touch. Although she was touching him in the very same place, she hadn't supposed he would attempt to touch her there.
"It's all right," Paul Fink whispered to her. "It's all right. Don't be afraid. No matter what I do, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. It'll all feel nice. You'll see."
Taking a deep breath, she fell back on the sofa, her head hitting the arm roll at the end. And he was with her, holding tightly to her, grasping her body to his, kissing her mouth with greater vehemence.
Somehow, her hand was still on his crotch, feeling the thick, rope-like thing in his pants.
"Open my zipper," he encouraged, whispering in her ear. "Take it out."
He parted his thighs slightly, giving her better access to his groin. Her hand felt around for the zipper tab, and, finding it, began pulling down. At the same time, her own white thighs opened under her skirt, and her body thrilled to the pressure of his hand as it slid underneath and pressed into her panty crotch, pushing it into the wet divide of her sodden pussy. She automatically responded to the pressure of his hand, enticingly rubbing her pouting pussylips against the probing hand. She moaned as his heavy palm rubbed the heated, moist swelling of her anxious labia.
To Pris this was all so new and wonderful. She had never experienced sensations like this, and she was truly enjoying herself to the utmost. If pleasing male clients meant she would enjoy these feelings herself, she was more than willing. Imagine earning money this way. Wow!
She felt him tugging her skirt off. Reaching to the side, she pulled down a zipper, making things easier for him. Then it occurred to her he might want his own pants off, and so she unhooked the front of his pants. She rose, sliding her skirt off, watching as he kicked off his own pants. Then, seeing him start to pull off his jockey shorts, she tugged her own panties off.
Christ! Paul thought, staring up at her body. She was fantastic. What a lovely body. And it would all be his. Yes, he was the one to teach this new employee what it was all about. And he could see from the way she was sensuously writhing that she was hotter than a burning oven. She also removed her pantyhose.
His dangling underpants were down around his ankles, and as she leaned against him again, she used her bare toes to kick them off. She felt him pulling her tightly against his hairy body, his swollen, hose-like cock pressing against the bush of midnight moss between her own white thighs. His throbbing cock could feel how wet her pussy hairs were.
She could feel the bristly hairs on his crotch, as well, able to sense how thick it was. And when he pushed her back to look at her ebony-covered mount, she was able to see the hungry glitter in his eyes.
Reaching for her hips, he pulled her against him and rubbed his thick cock between the slimy separation of pink pussy labia. Pris began shivering all over, not knowing why, feeling all kinds of flame blister through her entire body. She was so hot, she felt as if fire were shooting from her fingertips. A strange hunger was working its way up inside her as she used her own, sinuous, soft arms to hold him close to her. She humped the lower half of her body against his, forcefully pressing her soft, tender cuntlips against his solid cock, wondering why it was a man had a thing like that between her thighs.
Pris had learned nothing about the differences between men and women in her young life. Her parents had tried to keep all the "dirty thoughts" from even entering her head. As a result, she had not been able to discuss boys with girls her own age as she had grown up. True, her parents had allowed her to date, but only after carefully scrutinizing the boy in advance, and having a long talk with him before letting him take their daughter out. Even so, more than one boy had managed to caress her breasts through her blouse, as if defying her parents. Her purity was such, had her parents not spoken to the boys, it was probable they would not have even gone that far.
"My God!" Fink whispered. "You really are a virgin."
"What do you mean, a virgin?" Pris asked. "I mean, no boy has ever entered your body before."
"Entered my body?" she asked, curious how one person could enter the body of another.
"I mean no man has ever taken his penis, this thick thing between my legs, and pushed it into the sweet, honeyed hole between your legs," he explained.
"Well then, I guess I'm a virgin," she nodded. "I mean, I've dated boys before, and a few have touched my bosom, but no, no man has ever entered me, as you so quaintly phrase it."
"Well I guess you've just been waiting for the right cock to come along."
"The right what?"
"Cock. That's another word for penis. Cock, prick, whang, dong, dick, schlong, schvance, rod, dingus, pecker. They all mean the same thing. Just as that nice cave in your body is called a cunt, a vagina, a twat, a pussy, a snatch, a box, a nest, and so on. And I think it's time to see if mine is the right cock."
"Well, how can you tell if it's right or wrong?" Pris asked him.
"Just by seeing if it fits inside you. Sometimes it takes a little shoving, but if mine is the right cock for your pussy, it'll fit right in, eventually."
"Okay," she nodded, as his fingers began rubbing her nipples, watching the way she reacted.
Seeing her sweet, innocent face once again made him wish his cock was buried in her mouth. But then he wouldn't be able to use her cunt. What the hell! Maybe he'd let Steffie blow him.
Pris was a little confused, herself. Paul had told her the hole between her thighs was for a man's penis. She had always thought in terms of liquid waste matter being eliminated from that area, just as solid waste matter left by way of her rectum. She wondered if the penis was supposed to be stuffed into that hole, as well, or did the man have another portion of his anatomy to fit in there. For that matter, there was her navel, her ears, and even her nostrils. Were each of these meant to be stuffed with something? And then there was . . . her mouth? God! What else could a man have attached to him if he was supposed to fill all her holes?
Even as Paul continued kissing her, she made a hasty examination of his body with her eyes. No, no, there was only the penis, and that funny looking sac dangling below it But that sac couldn't fit inside her. Perhaps the different orifices of her body were so she could accommodate different penises. After all, Paul had said something about making his penis fit into her vagina. If a penis was too thin to fit in her pussy, then maybe it would fit in her asshole. And if it was too thick to fit in her snatch, then maybe it was supposed to go into her mouth. It seemed logical. And she had to admit, what Paul was doing to her now was driving her up the wall. One physical sensation after another traveled wildly through her body, and she was enjoying this contact with a man much more than she'd ever believed anything could be enjoyed.
She was wildly panting, letting Paul know he was reaching her. He was teasing all the licentious sensations in her, making her hotter and hotter for him. And the lust she was feeling was strictly for him. Poor Paul. His ego refused to accept the fact he was strikingly gruesome, and as a result would not be attractive to most women under normal conditions.
The rubbing of his thick cock between her slick pussylips made her shut her eyes and passionately sigh. He could have been Frankenstein's monster at this point and Pris wouldn't have cared. Looking down, she thrilled to the way he was enjoying the taste of her budding nipples. His lips pulled on them, sucking and even snapping them, as if trying to tug them from her breasts. His hands were cupping each of her tiny tits, making them seem fuller and heavier than they really were, and his licking tongue almost scratched her sensitive flesh.
She rubbed her seething split against his heavy penis, moving more and more quickly. Funny, hot liquid was coming out of her body, and at first she was afraid she had accidentally urinated. But Paul continued rubbing his thick whang through the crevice between her thighs, and she sensed the stickiness of the fluid and realized it wasn't urine. This allowed her to relax a little, though she was fantastically wrought up by what he was doing.
"God!" she gasped. "Oh God! What's happening to me? I've never felt this way before. You have some terrific mouth. It's making me feel funny, all over."
Shrugging, Paul began lapping lower, lancing the point of his tongue into her belly button. She trembled, writhing under his oral caresses, then felt his mouth moving through her black pubic bush and suddenly realized just where his mouth was heading.
"God!" she thought aloud. Then; "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to lick this sweet little pussy of yours," Paul told her. "I'm going to eat it until I've sucked every drop of hot quim juice out of you. And you, dear girl, are going to love it."
She felt his tongue licking her belly, then her thighs, and even the bottom of her ass-cheeks, though his tongue was careful to avoid its target. He was doing to her genital area what he had done to each of her breasts, before, teasing and tantalizing the flesh around the area he eventually intended attacking with his mouth.
Imagine, men did things like this to women, putting their mouths on women's vaginas. If this was what she had to do to please a man, she could hardly wait to start pleasing more men.
Pris might have been naive and uninformed, but she wasn't dumb. If men did things like this to women, she was absolutely certain women did things like this to men. Now there was no doubt in her mind Paul or some other man would be expecting her to suck a cock. But from the way Paul was enjoying licking around her thighs, she was fairly certain she would enjoy sucking just as much. When the time came, she would find out. But at the moment, she wasn't going to hurry anything. Everything being done to her was far too enjoyable to interrupt.
She felt his hands spreading her thighs more widely apart. Looking down, she could see the top of his almost-bald head, and though it was hardly the sight she would expect to arouse her, she knew the sight of a bald head, from then on, would always remind her of this moment.
Paul stared at the blue-black carpet of her pelvic bush, then permitted his cobalt-blue eyes to wander down to the large, irritated clitoris. Although he had yet to touch it, it was straining out from behind the hidden membrane of pink tissue. And below that delicious-looking little nubbin, partially open because of the pressure of his thumbs on her thighs, was the wide-open slash of her lathered pussy.
"Unnh!" she gasped, feeling the warmth of his breath on her vaginal opening.
Pressing his full, closed lips to her sticky opening, he felt her juicy flood slither all over his lips and chin. And when he pressed his lips against her sticky gash with a bit more pressure, he was pleased to feel the way she started, so totally unused to what he as doing.
His thumbs spread her cuntlips farther apart as his wide tongue came leaping out to flatten itself against her sopping gash, slurping the wet, slavering fluid from within as it swiped its way up from the bottom of the vaginal crevice to the top. He licked the slice up and down, feeling her jump. Her voice let out a loud, "Eeeeeeeeeee!" as she screeched. Luckily, his office, and all the other offices at Jacobsen & Co. were totally soundproof. Yeah, Paul knew he was really reaching this girl.
Her hot cuntlips were soaking wet, heavily covered with her gooey fluid. His tongue leaped out and continued licking it all into his mouth, swallowing and sucking in more as fast as possible. His mouth gobbled along the entire length of her hot slit, and he felt her slender thighs tremble with delight.
She was really getting a kick out of it. He could tell. This chick was going hog-wild, reacting insanely. He crammed his face even deeper into her simmering pussy. His tongue licked straight up to the top of her fiery hole, then licked higher, sliding out from between her flaming inner labia, lapping at her vibrant clitoris. He could sense it madly vibrating, so he pulled it between his lips, just as he'd pulled on her nipples, earlier. His tongue lashed it again and again.
"Ohhhhh Jesus!" Priscilla gasped, as she felt his mouth dredge out the leaking fluid from her quivering cunt.
His tongue was jumping back and forth, from her tingling clitoris to her broiling inner hole, and it made Pris tremble all the more. His tongue was lapping into her as far as it would extend, licking the wet inner walls of her blisteringly hot interior. He tugged her soft pussylips even farther apart and lashed his tongue violently in and out, licking along the outer rim of her ultra-sensitive vaginal labia.
Pris yelled and tightly clamped her slender white thighs around Paul's face. Her breath was coming in short, heated gasps as her trim little ass bounced on the sofa cushions again and again.
She felt his lapping tongue lick into the tender folds of her labial tissues. Then he crammed his face into her burning hole until it could go no further. His tongue lanced as far up into her blazing channel as it could go, wildly licking.
"Unngghh! Unngghh! Unngghh!" she gasped, screeching, wildly bouncing on the sofa, thrilling to the way his lapping lingual digit moved between her burning pussy and her trembling clit. Her wide-open outer labia seemed to be sucking on his face, as if trying to pull his oversized nose into her tight cunt, mistaking it for a prick. Her body was moving rapidly, and Paul knew if he continued like this she would attain her first climax in no time.
His mouth continued working in her broiling cunt oven, his tongue attacking her clitoris with more and more fervor. Then he abruptly stopped licking, forcibly pulling her thighs apart so he could pull his face from against her leaking slash.
Before she could complain any further, Paul moved up on her horizontal body, bringing her feet onto the cushions, but not before his knees were between her thighs and his solid penis was rubbing against her slippery slot. He pressed the thick head against the burning entryway, feeling the head from within as it blasted out of her.
"Yes . . . " she nodded, looking up into his blazing blue eyes. "Yes . . . do it.. . put it in . . . do it. . . "
"That's just what I'm going to do," he murmured. "I'm going to fuck you. Do you hear? I'm going to fuck you."
"Yes . . . yes . . . fuck me, fuck me, I know your cock'll fit inside me. I know it's the right size for my cunt. Fit it in."
Reaching between his legs, he grabbed his solid rod and pushed the head against her inflamed labia, then proceeded to slam forward, hard. At first, her tight vulva, her inner cuntlips, refused to separate. But as he pressed harder, the tender lips began to slowly part. And little by little he began stuffing his thick, seven-inch salami into her crushing depths.
She screamed, feeling passionate desire mingle with a new pain as his pressuring penis forced her cuntal interior farther and farther apart. She took a deep breath and held it, raising her ass to change the angle of his penetration, hoping his thick meat would fit all the way inside her before the pain dominated her tender body.
He pushed a little deeper, and she squirmed with hurt, twisting as if trying to get away from him, yet turning in the hope of screwing the pain out of her and more pleasure into her. She felt it slowly forcing its way in a bit deeper, adding to the overpowering agony. She wanted him to pull it out, but after having come this far, she didn't dare shout or complain.
He was almost halfway in when she felt the blunted dome of his throbbing cock press against something that caused her unbearable agony.
"That's your cherry," he gasped. "By God! You really are a virgin."
"What'll we do?" she asked.
"It has to be broken if we're going to continue," he told her.
"Then break it," she ordered, gritting her teeth with the painful sensations drilling through her.
He backed his cock off a little, then sent it slamming forward, making her yell and scream all the louder. Abruptly, she felt a sharp, wicked, intense tearing from within. Then his weighty, solid phallus slammed itself all the way in, enlarging the rest of her narrow interior. His puffy glans stretched her vaginal tunnel until she squealed with shuddering pain. But as he slowly withdrew the powering piston, she started begging. "Don't take it away. Don't.. . please . . . put it back . . . put it back . . . "
"Yeah, kid," Paul gasped, "Hurt me more. Hurt me more. Push it in. I want all of it."
And so he slammed it all the way into her driving the entire thick length as far as it would go.
"Jesus!" he gasped. "You're so soft inside it's like fucking into a deep tub of soft margarine."
"And you're like a long, thick, white-hot knife," she responded. "But God, it's wonderful."
Once again, he pulled back, then slammed forward, slamming his meaty prong into the heated depths of her fiery vagina. She squealed and gasped, her voice almost going unheard because she was bellowing into his deaf ear. He had been born with with one bad ear, and now he was almost happy, since her squeals would have painfully deafened him, had he been able to hear them. Her hips bounced up wildly from the sofa, meeting his down-thrusting limbs. Pris thrilled to the feel of his long, hard prong as it ran all the way up into the flaming depths of her anguished pussy, filling her womanly chalice with his long, hard, solid cock.
He could tell she was boiling hot. She would come in a matter of seconds, and it pleased him because his own semen was boiling and bubbling in his tightly squeezing testicles.
He began pumping regularly into her now, in and out, in and out, the hot, slimy cavern of her tight cunt squeezing the pulsating prick as it slithered in and out. The tightness of her squashing cunt sucked on his male bone like a babe nursing at its mother's breast.
Pris' body heaved upward, her tight pussy whacking into his pelvic bush as her long, slender legs enveloped his body, twining themselves tightly around him. Her heels dug into his calves for leverage. He could feel her sucking vulva, opening and closing with the rhythmic gasps coming from her mouth. The palpitating clutch of her anxious pussy seemed to literally be vacuuming him into her. Her walls clung to his throbbing cock with the tightness of a vise, and his moving pudendum almost felt as if the skin were being scraped from it as it moved through her.
Pris felt his heavy balls pounding against her closely squeezed ass-cheeks as he began hurrying his lunges into her. Both could hear the slurping noise her sucking cunt made as it clung tightly to his throbbing peter.
"I . . . uhhhhh . . . feel something . . . uhhh . . . funny . . . " she gasped between clenched teeth.
"It's . . . ooooooh . . . your orgasm . . . " Paul explained. "It's . . .ahhhh . . . the greatest feeling anyone . . . ohhhhhh . . . can ever have.. . let it come. . . let it come . . . "
He plowed his throbbing penis into her with greater vehemence now, the heavy, swollen member working through the lathered resistance of her sloshy cunt. The clinging delight of her vaginal interior seemed to caress all sides of his cylindrical phallus at once. Again and again he plunged his seething dork into her, ramming it into her vital depths, slamming it home. His hairy chest rested against her small, firm tits, feeling the way her pink, extended nipples sliced right through the hair, and like tiny diamond chips, slashed his chest.
The spunk was boiling within, rising, heading toward that slender tube in the underside of his throbbing cock. It would move through him and blast out into her at any second.
Paul wanted to hold off, making certain Priscilla came first. With his own wife he didn't give a damn, but with Priscilla, it was important she attain orgasm. She had to know how ultimately fulfilling the entire thing could be. This way, when other men-men he selected, clients with already huge trust funds-attempted to seduce her, Priscilla would not hesitate. She was innocent and unknowing enough to do it all for the sake of enjoyment. True, she would believe she'd be earning money too, believing the men might open trust accounts with her. How was she to know they already had accounts open with Paul Fink.
The idea of using the two girls was new to Paul. It had come to him when Mike Marcus, the number two man in the firm, had suggested he take over the care and training of the two girls. Jacobson & Co. had always been a staid old firm, hiring women strictly as secretaries. Now, in order to prove they didn't discriminate, they had hired these two young ladies in the hope they would prove themselves equal to the task of working for the company. If the young ladies didn't work out, the firm would have to replace them with other young ladies, and, in a way, that was precisely what Paul Fink wanted. In the past, he'd always had to find ladies of ill repute for his clientele, paying for them out of his own pocket. Now he had these pure, sweet, innocent-looking girls who would be much better than any bimbo. Now, the company was supplying him with girls he could continue to use to make the trust department at Jacobson even bigger, though he would get all the commissions for himself.
When he was finished with Priscilla, he would send her to the order department while he rested. In the afternoon, after a good meal, he would let Stef-fie learn to do with her mouth what Pris was doing with her cunt. He would leave it up to his clients to complete the sexual education of the two girls.
He sank his thick prick into her creaming snatch all the more deeply, as if intent on nailing her to the couch. He was slamming himself into her with all his strength. And her tight cunt continued sucking him in as she rotated and humped beneath him.
Rapture made her gasp aloud. And the sight of her lovely mouth, wide open, sighing and shuddering as she approached her satisfaction aroused him all the more. God! She had to be the most absolutely beautiful girl he had ever seen. His throbbing cock felt itself swelling as it continued see-sawing in and out of her.
Priscilla couldn't understand what was happening. Wild, unbelievable, ecstatic sensations were rising inside her, totally overwhelming and engulfing her. She twitched and vibrated, and suddenly realized she'd lost all control of her limbs. Her arms and legs flailed wildly as she felt she was about to burst wide open. And then the climax blasted through her entire body at once.
"AAAAAGGGGGHHHH! AAAGGGHHHHH UGHH!" she screamed as her flailing body squirmed and writhed all over the sofa. Prickles of shuddering thrills seemed to blast from every pore as she shouted again and again, unable to control herself.
The sensation was unbelievable. She'd had no idea such wonderful feelings existed in the human body. Oh Lord! And to think, she would be enjoying this feeling while legally earning money, working for Jacobson & Co. This was too good to be true.
Paul, feeling her mad movement, had to use his weight to hold her down. The rising sperm in his throbbing penis was moving at an uncontrollable speed now. It was on a one-way trip out of his body, into hers. He continued plunging recklessly into her tight body, feeling the wonderful contractions of her fabulous cunt around his thrusting cock as she came, and then it was time for him to come.
Paul never shouted when he climaxed. Rather, he snorted, since he had a deviated septum which made breathing difficult. Wheezing like a stuck pig, he felt his semen erupt from his body and splash into the tight channel of her seething pussy. Blast after heated blast of sticky white sauce spilled into her tight canal, and she thrust her slender self up to welcome it into her.
Pris felt the wonderful gush of heated come shoot into her squeezing depths, and in her mind it enhanced her own orgasm even more.
Paul grunted again and again, throwing his full weight on the slender girl beneath him. God! God! God! He couldn't recall ever having enjoyed a body as much as he'd enjoyed this one. Christ! He would have to have her again, even if it meant the pretext of more business. She was too good to let go too quickly. Hell! He might switch a small trust account into her name, if only to keep her working under him a little while longer.
Under him? He had to smile at that. At the moment, that was precisely where she was laboring; directly under him.
If Steffie were as good, it might mean his having to surrender two small trust accounts, as if the girls were really earning their money, thereby enabling him to keep them in his department so he could continue screwing them.
What really made him perk up was the idea of teaching the two at the same time. He knew it would be tacky, convincing both girls to undress together, in front of him. But he knew he could do it, assuming he had enough time.
Realizing his enjoyment of the girl had finally come to an end, Paul pulled out of her, getting to his feet.
"Do you understand what I mean?" he asked, handing her a tissue to catch all the jism oozing out of her tight pussy.
"Oh yes," she nodded.
"Think you can handle it?" he wanted to know. "Definitely," she nodded.
"Okay, Today you'll learn more about the way the back office works, but tomorrow I'll send you to see a doctor who has been wanting to open a trust account with us for some time."
Priscilla could only nod, happy she was about to prove herself.
CHAPTER TWO
Dr. Ralph Espizza seemed like a nice man as far as Pris was concerned. He was a gynecologist, and he had welcomed her into his office the following day. Pris was wearing a white blouse with a red miniskirt, and red pantyhose, to match. Since these were opaque pantyhose, there was no need for her to wear an additional pair of panties. Her shoulder-length black hair fell around her white face, framing it and making her seem even more beautiful in the eyes of the doctor.
Espizza was a tall man, about six feet two and a half inches tall, and though he had a barrel chest, there was no fat on him. His brown hair was thinning on top, and he smiled good-naturedly. Pris would soon learn that everything the doctor did, he did good-naturedly.
At first, they sat in his office discussing his financial affairs. Espizza had been prepared by Paul Fink for Priscilla's visit, and so good-naturedly discussed his financial holdings with her, neglecting to tell her they were already with Jacobson. He listened attentively as Pris, using her own newly acquired knowledge, discussed some changes in his portfolio she felt would improve it. As he listened, Espizza decided the girl knew her business, all right. He would insist Fink make the changes she suggested. But he played good-naturedly hard to convince.
"Tell you what," he said. "If you wish, while we're talking, suppose I give you a free examination. Just as you know about stocks, I know about the female body, and from what I see, you might be in need of vitamin supplements."
"Really?" Pris naively asked.
"Oh yes," Espizza nodded. "I would suggest an immediate internal examination."
"Okay," Pris nodded.
He seemed like such a good-natured man, she couldn't refuse him. Besides, he was offering her a legitimate opportunity to take her clothes off. Perhaps she would be able to convince him to do the same thing. And from the size of his portfolio of stocks, once she brought it into the trust department and made the suggested changes, she realized the commissions would far and away exceed her entire draw for the month.
"Now," Espizza said to her, "I want you to answer my questions. Remember, what I'm doing, I'm doing so I can help you. Before I go probing into your body, I want you to tell me, have you ever had an internal examination before?"
"No," she admitted.
"Aha, then you've never had anything penetrate your vagina."
"Well, no, that's not quite true, either."
"I see. Then you're acquainted with sexual intercourse?"
"Yes, but I don't see what this has to do with . . . "
"Patience, Miss Penard. You see, sexual intercourse induces certain chemical changes in the body. Had these changes taken place without your having had a sexual relationship, I would have thought there was something wrong with you. True, these chemical changes are for the better, giving you a healthier flesh tone, among other things. But if these changes had occurred prior to a sexual experience, then engaging in a sexual relationship with a man might reverse these chemical reactions. Am I clear?"
"Oh yes," Pris nodded, willing to accept whatever he told her.
"Now, when did you have your last sexual experience?" Espizza asked.
Coloring, Pris said, "Yesterday, in the late morning."
"And did you properly douche yourself out afterward."
"Pardon?"
"I see, you didn't. Very well, douching is very important, and it's something I'll have to teach you-at least until you starting taking the vitamins I'm going to prescribe. You see, these vitamins make certain your inner vaginal membranes remain firm and resilient, and unaffected by the pressures of a penis. Although almost all penises are, by themselves, clean, in order not to take any chances, when you don't take these vitamins, a douche is needed. I'll show you precisely how to douche a little later on. For now, step into the examining room, remove your clothes, and put on the paper gown you'll find there."
Pris obediently went into the examination room where, draped over a chair in the corner, she saw the gown. Slipping into it, she sat on the examining table and waited for the doctor.
This was the first time she had ever been in a gynecologist's office, and she felt a little unsure of herself. Sitting on the table's cold leather, she looked down at the stirrups on either side of the foot of the table. She had seen them in her own physician's office, but until now she'd had no idea why he'd used them. God! They looked like something the Inquisition might use. As she thought about the stirrups, Dr. Espizza entered.
"Ah, I see we're all ready. Excellent. Lie back on the table, please. Don't be frightened. This is something I ordinarily do every day with more than a dozen different women. Open the gown."
Pris opened the paper gown and watched as Ralph Espizza reached out, put his hands on her breasts, and softly massaged them, rubbing the nipples with his thumb. She became aware his fingers were making her hot and bothered. Hell! She liked it. Maybe the doctor would like it enough to join her on the table. Then he might be able to make her feel really good, and at the same time her body might convince him to let her handle his portfolio of stocks. After all, once it was in the trust department, under her guidance, she would have complete control over the account, buying and selling without having to consult him.
God! His fingers on her breasts were doing wonders to her, internally. She noticed he was paying close attention to the firmness of her breasts. He let his fingers move over every inch of them, lightly caressing the flesh as well as pulling on her nipples. She writhed on the table, breathing more heavily. Espizza noticed the way she was moving, and smiled.
"Does what I'm doing bother you?" he asked Priscilla.
"Excellent. This part of the exam is finished. There are no lumps in your breasts. Now we'll have a look at the rest of you."
He moved to the other end of the table, making her slide up a bit, fitting her feet into the stirrups, raising her knees and spreading her thighs wide open.
Pris felt embarrassed in this position. When she had been with Paul, the previous day, he had made her feel completely at ease. Dr. Espizza, with his good-natured professional mannerisms had her shaken up. Her face reddened as she blushed.
"All right, Miss Penard, if you feel something a little cold, don't worry. I'm using special instruments so I can make the examination thorough. Why not simply close your eyes and relax. I'm going to make both a vaginal and rectal examination. And if you relax you'll find things go much easier."
Priscilla couldn't help feeling her heart start to beat faster. She watched him slide a rubber glove on over his right hand, and then he took out a jar of some kind of ointment and smeared the stuff all over his fingers. He began by inserting a forefinger covered with cool ointment into her rectum. The strange feeling made her a little uneasy as the cool ointment lubricated the way for his finger. She felt the finger slide in and out of her ass channel again and again, enlarging it. She was surprised at how easily the finger slid into the tight orifice. True, the finger was much thinner than the cock she'd felt forcing its way into her tight pussy the previous day, but her asshole was also so much narrower than her pussy. She was even more surprised when she felt him slide a second finger into her anal tunnel. Her sphincter suddenly snapped shut around his fingers when they were all the way into her, and suddenly Pris was uncomfortable.
"You have to relax," Espizza insisted, moving his fingers around inside her. "The longer you fight me, the longer this examination will take."
At this point Pris was no longer thinking about the examination. She felt hot sensations of lust starting to shoot through her excited body. She was actually enjoying the pressure of his fingers in her rectum. Her interior was becoming more and more aroused with each passing moment.
"Are you feeling better?" Espizza asked, moving his fingers through her anus more rapidly.
His manner was so good-natured, how was it possible for her not to trust Dr. Espizza? And when his fingers moved through her ass all the more rapidly, she began bouncing her buttocks on the table. She was gasping now, not believing she could be this aroused from his simply pushing a finger into her rectum.
Then she felt the fingers sliding out of her rectum as his other hand reached over and parted her pussylips.
"Miss Penard, there's no need for you to feel embarrassed, even if you like what you feel. I'd like to think all my examinations are pleasurable rather than painful. Don't you agree?"
"Oh yes," Pris nodded, "definitely."
Priscilla lay back, determined to enjoy the examination as much as possible. Her thighs widened, making it easier for Espizza to push his lubricated, gloved fingers into her tight cunt. She squirmed as he probed inside, enjoying the way he was poking around, here and there. With his free hand, he took the speculum and introduced it into her vagina, spreading her interior walls. He brought her face close, looked around, then slowly withdrew the instrument, telling her to remain lying there.
"Everything looks fine, so far," he told her, "but there's one final test I wish to make, and it will take a bit longer."
Pris closed her eyes, feeling completely relaxed. She no longer felt ashamed of lying in so undignified a position. In fact, lying there that way, she was starting to feel warm and good inside. There was a tingling in her rectum, and it was matched by a thrilling tickle in her vagina. Lord! She was feeling it literally begin to itch in both places. She wanted to scratch herself, internally. Should she let Dr. Espizza know how she felt?
As she lay there, feeling more and more aggravated internally, she became aware of a heat starting to work its way through her body, arousing her. Her nipples began swelling of their own accord, and soon, she felt so wrought up, she was no longer able to simply lie still on the table.
"Is there anything wrong, Miss Penard?" Espizza asked. "Why are you writhing so?"
"Oh God!" she gasped. "I have a combination of funny feelings running though me. I feel all heated up and aroused, and yet I also feel a terrible itch in my rectum and vagina."
"Hmmm? Let me take a look. I'll see what I can do."
But Pris could no longer relax, even knowing the doctor was going to help her. The crazy itch in both her rectum and vagina was driving her insane. And with each passing second the feelings seemed to grow stronger and stronger. The heat inside her was building, too. She wished she had a good cock. Oh God! She needed a good, solid fucking. Her insides seemed so ultra-sensitive and raw.
Dr. Espizza was already peering between her thighs. His fingers were touching her there, and suddenly she realized he was palpating her clitoris, vigorously massaging it, making her even hotter. Her brain was starting to churn, and she was going crazy.
Although her eyes were still shut, she could hear the doctor moving around. He was pulling her young body forward so her buttocks were now on the edge of the table, though her feet were still locked in the stirrups, thereby forcing her thighs wide apart as her knees stood straight up.
Then Priscilla felt it. She felt the thick, rounded object pressing against her outer pussylips. She wasn't frightened because she thought the doctor was reinserting the speculum to see if he could locate the problem. But what she felt being inserted into her, though no broader than the speculum, was certainly not shaped like it, and he was really pushing it in fast and hard. The ointment he had rubbed into her made it enter relatively easily.
"What are you doing?" Priscilla asked, opening her eyes.
She saw him hovering over the lower half of her body, and noticed his own clothes were now off. He had a hairy chest, almost as bear-like as that of Paul Fink, and his lower half was pressed right up against the edge of the table.
"I'm using the only instrument I can to relieve you of whatever it is that's making you itch," he explained. "The itch you have is for a good cock. Tell me, was the experience you had yesterday morning your first one?"
"Y-yes," Pris nodded, confused.
"Of course. That explains it. Remember, I said your body chemistry had changed. The itch you felt came at about the same time today as the experience you had yesterday. Correct?"
"Yes, yes," Priscilla nodded, feeling hotter.
"Your body needs a good cock massage. Now that it has become used to a penis, it can't continue without one. Even though your sweet cunt has been lubricated, it's still tight. So please, just hold still so I can fit my hard cock all the way in."
"Yes, yes, do it, Doctor. Fuck me."
"That's precisely what I'm doing," he told her, "but you understand I'm only doing this as part of a prescribed treatment."
"Yes, yes. But is it really my body that's making me itch so, inside?"
"Actually it's your body's response to the lubricant I used. Some women can accept it readily enough, while others find themselves terribly aroused by it. I assume it has to do with the chemical properties in the lubricant."
At that moment, Priscilla realized she'd been had by the good doctor. In spite of his good nature, he was as horny as Paul Fink. And he had maneuvered her into a position where she had to be grateful to him for fucking her, rather than his showing gratitude for a fuck by turning his stock portfolio over to her. God! This made her mad. She had come to him in good faith, and he was using her.
"Relax, lie back," he told her, "and allow me to give you a good fuck. It'll be just the thing to overcome the chemical properties in the lubricant I used."
Espizza began cramming his thin, driving cock into her squeezing, irritated cunt. He kept on drilling the heavy meat into her until he had the entire length of it inside her.
"Yes, yes, you have one of the tightest pussies I've ever driven into," he gasped. "I have a thin prick, and a cunt really has to be tight if I can't just slide all the way into it. Uhhh! God! You need more fucking. You're so nicely tight. Ahhhhh!"
Even knowing how the doctor had tricked her, Pris didn't feel like resisting. She lay back, thrilling to the way the doctor's slim prick slammed through her tender membranes, rubbing the aroused tissues. Hell! Even if she had wanted to fight back at this point, she was physically incapable of doing a thing. She wanted to scratch her inner cunt and tear out that horrible itch driving her insane. According to Dr. Espizza, the only way to stop it was to have it fucked out of her, and so she accepted what he was doing. It didn't make her any the less annoyed to know he had tricked her into wanting his cock more than he had wanted her cunt.
A multitude of different thoughts raced through her mind. At one point she wondered if Paul Fink had set her up. Had he been aware the doctor would do this to her? But how could he? Fink had no idea she would willingly submit to a gynecological examination. There was no doubt the man was really a doctor, but what he was doing was contrary to the Hippocratic oath. One thing was certain; he really knew how to throw a hot fuck into her.
At that point, Pris no longer was allowed the luxury of thinking. She felt a finger probing against her tight asshole, but this time it wasn't pressing lightly. This time it was being unnecessarily rough. Standing as he was against the foot of the examining table, Dr. Espizza was in an awkward position, and his attempts to finger her anal tract were less than enjoyable, at least as far as Priscilla was concerned. He was poking rather than easing it into her, and as a result she bounced higher in an effort to pull away from him.
"Hold still," he told her. "Keep that ass still."
"No," she gasped. "No, no, I don't like it. That finger hurts. Take it away."
"All right," Espizza nodded. "We'll take care of your hot little ass another way. It means I can't come in your cunt, damn it."
"Yes, yes, come in my cunt," she insisted.
"Oh no," he replied, removing his finger from between her ass-cheeks, now concentrating on fucking his hard cock into her steaming depths. "No, I'll help you douche out that itch from your pussy, sweet girl."
"No," she insisted, unable to close her thighs, feeling him slam his beef roll into her with greater and greater force. "You started this, and the only way the fire'll go out inside me is if you make me come. I know it. You have to make me come."
"Be glad to," he told her, whacking into her with such effort, his dangling balls slammed between her ass-cheeks, pounding all the more swiftly.
The squeezing tightness of her young pussy was driving Espizza wild with desire. In all his life he had never had either virgins or near virgins. This was the closest he'd ever come to a really tight cunt, and he felt as if his brains were being squeezed out of him by way of his cock. Even so, he knew his orgasm was a long way off, and he would have no trouble making this sweet, fair-fleshed, ebony-haired girl reach her sexual pinnacle of delight. God! He wished his throbbing penis was even thicker so he could really ream out her tight, squeezing inner channel.
"Okay," he gasped, still thrusting his lancing prick into the heated depths of her creaming swamp. "I'm going to make you come. Stay cool."
Pris was somehow or other not feeling satisfied with the way he was fucking her. He seemed to lack the expertise of Paul Fink. Her inner, heated cunt craved the thickness of Paul Fink's cock, not to mention his length. Espizza was nearly two inches shorter than Fink, and only three quarters as thick. The itch in her steaming nookie was as strong as ever. She began humping her hips up and down in a wild, circular motion, hoping this would make his slender cock spiral around inside her and touch her vaginal walls more efficiently. Now her tiglit little ass was spinning wildly.
Slamming herself against the coctor's pelvis, all she really succeeded in doing was heightening her own tension. And she writhed so wildly, he didn't seem able to keep her spiked. He slammed his body desperately against hers, hoping to keep his throbbing prick buried in her steaming trough until she finally peaked. Heavy lubrication poured out of him, flooding her tight causeway, making his hard, fucking thrusts move all the more smoothly within. Now he was stroking with increasing motion, pulling back farther, slamming in deeper, pumping speedily, hoping to build her to her elusive orgasm before his slender cock came out of her.
His thin reed of prick was rubbing against her upper vaginal wall, now, and it excited her somewhat more. But the flooding juices of her own furrow only increased the heat inside her. Her own lubrication, mingling with the chemical the doctor had rubbed into her pussy, seemed to ignite until she felt as if a million tiny liquid explosions were being set off in her vagina, all at once.
"Hot!" she screamed. "I feel so hot!"
She writhed at a maddening pace, working her tight twat all over the seeping prick, anxious to have that orgasm that would cool everything off inside her. Christ! She was wildly ablaze, moving completely out of control. She had to put out the agonizing fire inside her. And then she felt the orgasm hit her.
"UUUUUNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHH!" she gasped as her wildly pistoning movements finally caused her to pinnacle.
But as she came, her inner vaginal sepulcher began unleashing even greater quantities of lubrication, and as it flooded into her pussy, running along the length of his thin cock until it even seeped out of her, she felt a greater burning than ever before.
Espizza slammed his throbbing dick all the harder into the girl, worried for a moment he might have used too much of the ointment inside her. Her slavering cunt should have started cooling off by now. He knew she was still feeling the itch in her ass, but he would take care of that shortly. He would have been able to take care of it with his finger, had she let him. But she had been adamant about his pulling his finger from her rectum. Now he would have to do it by fucking her ass, as well.
"YAAAGGGGHHHH!" Priscilla screamed, and Espizza, feeling another hot flood of joy juice coming from inside her, realized she had just come a second time. But even this orgasm merely inflamed her all the more.
When the second climax subsided, he sensed she was on the verge of a third one, and realized the ointment he'd used would keep her coming all day if he didn't do something about her rectum. So he pulled his throbbing, slender wand of cock from the hot, quivering depths of her pulsating cunt
"Put it back in," Pris begged. "Oh please, please, don't take it out, now. Put it back in. I can come again. I know it"
But Espizza didn't listen, and Priscilla had to reach down and thrust her own fingers into her smoking center. She rubbed and scratched, and all but tore the liqueous membranes out of her, but her fingers were unable to replace the cock that had been in there. She gasped and groaned, trying to bring on her third crisis, then felt cheated when it slowly faded away without once again lifting her over the top of the rainbow. And the worst part of it was, the discomfort was still there as strong as ever.
"Doctor," she asked, wide-eyed and unbelieving, "why did you prematurely withdraw? I needed you. I still need you. My body is burning up more than ever."
Dr. Espizza stood looking at her, feeling a bit of pity for her. He had never encountered a girl either as beautiful or as innocent as Priscilla. The sight of her seemed to set off something totally animalistic inside him; something he'd never felt before. He couldn't understand this urge to use so much of her over so short a period of time.
"Relax, Miss Penard," he told her. "Although you've already had two vaginal orgasm, neither had dimmed your capacity for climaxing. The reason for that is simple. The ointment is affecting your rectal membranes as well. Therefore, what you need is an anal climax. When you've had that, the itching and the burning and discomfort will totally disappear."
Pris couldn't understand what he was saying. What in heaven's name was an anal climax? How could one have an orgasm in one's ass?
All this was new to her. She was more than a little upset, and the burning within made her feel terrible. But one thing the doctor had said did make sense. Though she'd thought it to be centered in her aching vagina, she now realized there was a lot of it in her anus as well. Maybe, just maybe, he knew what he was talking about after all. Her sphincter was itching as much as her vulva had itched earlier. When she reached back to try and scratch her anal muscle with her fingernail, Dr. Espizza caught her hand, saying, "no, my dear. To do that would be to cause yourself some harm. You mustn't touch yourself back there with a sharp thing like your fingernail. What your ass needs is a cock."
Thinking back to the previous day, Priscilla remembered how she'd believed a penis too slender to properly fit in her vagina would be used in her rectum. Now she realized how accurate her assessment of the situation had been. Espizza's cock had been too thin for her tight cunt, even though her vaginal walls had all but strangled the life from it. So he would fit it into her asshole.
Before she could think any more, Pris felt the itch in her sphincter suddenly wiped away by a sharp, stabbing pain. She realized he had tugged her thighs even wider apart, had propped a pillow under her spine, and had lifted her anus to the height formerly held by her tight cunt. And now he was trying to force his meaty wand into her tight rectum. She realized the ring of tight muscle was being painfully stretched. God! Where his hard prick had felt so slender in her steaming pussy moments before, it now felt gigantic in the teeming entryway to her knotted asshole. Christ! It felt immense.
"Owwwwwww Uhhhhhhh! That hurts, it hurts. You're hurting my rectum," she pleaded. "Stop! Please, stop!"
But the doctor refused to stop. He rammed his hard cock against the crosshairs of her anal entrance again and again, pushing and pushing, trying to force her muscle to weaken. But Priscilla closed her eyes and clenched her asshole tightly shut, refusing to allow him to shove his hot poker into her. She'd had enough pain the previous day. Paul Fink's breaking her hymen had been agonizing enough. She didn't need this doctor to add to her pain. Hell! She had thought getting accounts for the Jacobson Trust Department would be enjoyable. Yes, she was willing to use her body as Paul Fink had taught her, but she didn't want her torso being abused rather than used. What the man was doing was much too much. To hell with his account. She could go see someone else.
"Unstrap my ankles and let me out of here," she insisted.
"If I do, you'll be in agony all day," he told her.
"I'm in agony right now because of what you're trying to do."
"Wait a minute," he told her, backing off. "I have just the thing. I'll make everything just fine."
Going over to a drawer, he took out what looked like a slender pencil covered with elastic, from which a bulb dangled.
"This'll do the trick," he assured her. "If s nice and slender, and once we've inserted it into your ass, I just squeeze the rubber bulb, inflating the dildo until it's as thick as my cock. Then, when your ass is wide enough, Til stick my cock in there and do a proper job." He pressed the dildo point to her asshole, but she began bucking, so he said, "Hold still and let me fit it in. The sooner we do this, the sooner all your pain will be gone. Struggling is only going to make everything hurt more."
Realizing she wouldn't be released from her present, cramped position until the doctor had his way with her, Pris forced her body to relax. He slowly began the insertion, and it felt like a thermometer moving in. She held her breath, fearful he would hurt her, but for the moment it felt. . . different. . . interesting. And then he began inflating it. He pumped it until it was considerably thicker than his own cock, and Pris began feeling a stretching discomfort, and then pain. The pain turned to momentary agony, stretching her as she'd never been stretched before. She felt the object pushing deeper and deeper into her, creating an urge to evacuate. It seemed to be moving through her bowel much like she was having an elimination, only it was moving in rather than out. She tried stopping the sensation by tightening her rectum, but this merely heightened the pain. She began writhing and screaming, and she was certain she might have had an embarrassing moment had he not removed the dildo.
Her asshole instantly contracted, and she could fee the way her sphincter was throbbing, much the way her vulva had pulsated the previous day after her vagina had first been entered. But now her anal tract was itching more than ever, and she writhed and wriggled, hoping to rub her sphincter against something abrasive, thereby satisfying that itch. She knew her respite was only temporary, and suddenly felt the thin, blunt head of his solid cock as it touched her puckered anal entryway.
Espizza ran his cock up and down her rectal crack, going all the way up to her pussy at one point to soak the glans in quim juice, then moving back down to her anal star. Content he had done all he could to make his entry into her rectum easy, he pressed the knob of prick against the inflamed asshole.
The dildo had done an excellent job of loosening Priscilla's anal muscle, and though she strained to keep him out, one solid shove was all that was needed to bury his meat into her clutching rectum. Pris yelped once as the slender cock pushed its way in, running all the way up into her anal sanctuary. The cock, for all its hardness, felt warmer and softer than the inflated dildo. But this time Espizza continued shoving until he had the entire five inches buried to the hilt in her tight rectum. He didn't stop until his balls slammed into the leather table under the pillow on which her ass was resting. Pris felt his body press against her ass-cheeks and under thighs as his slender cock rubbed her anal walls. She knew the only way for this to end was for him to shoot his spunk into her asshole. Once that happened, he'd release her. She refused to believe she could have an anal climax, and all she wanted was to be able to leave while she was still alive. Every little move on her part seemed to cause her additional discomfort, though from Espizza's grunts she was certain he was really enjoying himself. But as she became used to the breadth of the cock, the annoying itch began bothering her again, and this, in turn, forced her to start wiggling her ass.
Espizza didn't give Priscilla a chance to say anything at this point. He began stroking strongly into her ass, powering his pistoning cock back and forth. Pris found herself gasping for breath as he pounded swiftly and surely into her anal depths. She felt her body being shaken very violently, noting he was ramming into her with all his strength. He slammed his entire length in on each forward thrust, then pulled all the way back until only the dome of his throbbing prick was lodged behind her sphincter. He would hold himself there for a fraction of a second, and then he would slam in all over again.
Pris found it difficult to accept all this, at first, but as her body became accustomed to his throbbing cock, she realized his movement had not only stopped the itching, but was actually beginning to feel good. She noted he was teasing her clitoris with his fingers as he continued thrusting his cock into her ass, and even slid two fingers into the tightness of her creaming cunt. He fingers reamed sweetly into her tight pussy, moving in coordination with the way his throbbing cock slammed into her crushing asshole. The faster he moved, the more Pris was enjoying herself. She felt her body relaxing more and more, and soon the pain in her rectum was an uncomfortable memory. Now she began humping her ass higher, responding to his thrusting strokes. Her body was beginning to vibrate with sexuality.
She realized she was still hot and anxious. The two vaginal orgasms had not been nearly enough. She needed more. Both orgasms had been good, but neither had been as powerful as the all-encompassing orgasm brought on by Paul Fink the day before. Her sexual frustration, her not being able to find total satisfaction, had enhanced her pain, making it feel worse.
Pris was still angry at Espizza for having used her this way. More, she was angry at Paul Fink, because she knew he had to have been in on it. The doctor could never have maneuvered her into this position had Fink not said something or other to Espizza. She knew there was no way she would be able to call the authorities against Espizza without ruining her entire future in the stock market. And that was something she didn't want. Not only that, but when her parents learned of what had happened, they would throw her out of the house. She would have no place to live.
Damn! The doctor had seduced and raped her. And since there was nothing she could do about it, she figured she might as well settle back and enjoy the rape. Besides, she had come to the conclusion, now that the pain was gone, that she liked a throbbing, solid cock in her rectum. The anal stretching had become terribly and erotically thrilling.
Dr. Espizza could feel her relaxing again. God, good, he was glad. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. There was no real sadism in him. All he'd wanted to do was fuck her tight cunt and tighter ass, which was exactly what he was doing. Soon she would be having an anal orgasm, and he could feel her rectal tube tighten so much, it would almost crush his penial muscle. He enjoyed the squeezing of her bumhole, and wanted to unleash a gusher of sperm into it. Besides, coming in her ass also removed the temporary danger of pregnancy. His cock was moving faster and faster, and he was enjoying himself more than he had for the longest time. Once in a great while he found a woman patient who wanted to seduce him, and being only human, he allowed it to happen. But most of his women patients were middle-aged, ugly, or had foul-smelling cunts. This sweet, fresh, delicious young thing was the most fantastic female he had ever experienced. He wondered what she would be like when she was a little older, with experience of her own to fall back on.
"Thatta girl," Espizza said to her. "Now that you're relaxed, we're both getting the maximum enjoyment from this. I mean, your sphincter wrapped around my cock is a tight enough collar without you tightening up and making it strangle my cock. Come on, now. Admit it. You like what I'm doing to you."
"Yes," Priscilla admitted. "I like it. It's something different. I've never known anything like it before. And it's helping to get rid of the itch inside me. Yes, yes, keep on doing it. It feels wonderful."
Priscilla was feeling less angry now. The son of a bitch was at least getting rid of the itch he had first put into her, and he was really making her feel good. Somewhere, deep down inside her, she felt the signals of a new, different kind of orgasm. The climax was still a long way off, but it was coming. For some reason, she realized the doctor was right. She could have an anal orgasm, and since it was possible, that was precisely what she wanted. She was willing to bet it would be every bit as good as the vaginal orgasms she'd enjoyed.
Reading her mind, Espizza said, "Don't worry, Miss Penard. This time your orgasm will be all-consuming, and you will be more than glad you came here today. You'll really come."
"What. . . uhhhh . . . makes you so. . . uhhhh . . . sure?" Priscilla asked.
"Because I've done this with other women, and one of the greatest thrills I've ever had is the pressure of a woman's asshole as she comes. Now, completely relax and enjoy everything."
So Pris allowed her body to totally let go, knowing it was in Espizza's own interests to make her come, and he would therefore do his level best to bring her off. He wanted her to climax, and that was precisely what would happen.
She lay back on the table, the pillow still under her ass, her feet strapped into the stirrups, thrilling to the powering crashes of his thin cock inside her tight asshole while his fingers moved in and out of her tight twat. One of his thumbs was rotating against her clitoris, bringing every last nerve fiber inside her alive with manual stimulation.
Espizza, looking down at her tender, white, beautiful body, loved the way her body thumped against the pillow underneath as his cock slammed into her tight ass. He also enjoyed knowing his was the first cock to ever penetrate her ass. With all the other asses he'd fucked, he hadn't been able to tell one way or another, though their looseness was a fairly good sign they had probably been fucked before. Just knowing his had been the first cock to penetrate this divine young brunette's twitching asshole made him feel good. Hell! His had probably been one of the first to penetrate her cunt, as well. He was in his late forties now, and he doubted if he would have the good fortune to take another anal or vaginal cherry.
Even as he was thinking about the sweet young girl's innocence, he realized his cock would not be able to withstand much more of this. He speeded up the thrusting of his fingers into her vagina, while he rotated the ball of his thumb all the more rapidly against her clitoris. He jammed his fingers even deeper into her hot, tight pussy, speeding up the rhythm, thereby making her buck all the faster.
"Yes, I know," Espizza told her. "I'm glad you like it."
"Keep rubbing me . . . all places . . . " she gasped.
Espizza, anxious to feel her body tighten with orgasmic delight, rubbed his fingers through her pussy even faster, using his thumb even more strongly on her clitoral button. And the pressure of his fingers in her tight, steaming cunt, made the slender wall of membrane separating her pussy from her ass press all the more delightfully against his thrusting cock. The joint fucking made the two of them hotter and hotter, and both realized the time of crisis for each was very close at hand. His fingers, sluicing through her tight cunt, made her feel wonderful, even if it pressed against his cock in her ass. More friction was created in more places. His thumb was pressing so hard against her clit as he moved it, he realized she would definitely pinnacle before him.
Pris felt the orgasm building inside her. It would shortly take complete control of her. She couldn't hold it back.
Espizza realized she was almost there. He rammed his fingers in and out with even greater speed, matching the tempo with his thrusting cock. And Pris began wildly gyrating her hips, reaching out for the climax hanging barely beyond her reach. She had to have it, she just had to.
"I'm . . . uhhhhh . . . going to . . . uhhh come . . . " she gasped.
"Come," Espizza instructed. "Come! That's why we're doing this. So you can come. Come! Come and squeeze my cock with that wonderful asshole of yours. Come! Ooooooh yessssss!"
"AAAAAYYYYYAAAAAGGGGHHHH!" she yelled, beyond hearing anything he was saying to her as she reached her own paroxysmic peak of wonderful pleasure. The strong floodgates of her lovely young body suddenly opened wide, and thrilling, delightful pleasure began blasting through her. She was coming with a climax originating in her rectum, just as Espizza claimed she would. She writhed and spun her body in the hope of getting more pleasure from both, his cock and his fingers as they worked through her. The thumb on her clitoris was icing on the cake, making her strain for the orgasmic heavens, filling her with unbelievable, thrilling delights.
Espizza suddenly realized he had underestimated the climaxing abilities of the young girl. Her ass responded so strongly, her sphincter contracted so powerfully, it was like a clutching hand milking his cock.
"YAAARRRGGGHHHAAAGGGHHH!" he screamed, clutching her body, feeling her asshole squeeze his cock with such force he was certain the cock would snap right off. He was unable to move his cock in and out any longer. Her tight, grasping asshole had such a firm grip on it, he was locked all the way into her, firing his thick load of sperm against her colon again and again.
Pris felt the burning semen shoot into her rectum and large intestine. This only made her wilder, and her body squeezed all the more tightly as she bounced on the table.
She blacked out, the rectal orgasm was so powerful. And when she finally came to, she found he had undone the straps holding her feet in the stirrups. He had also pulled out of her ass, removing his fingers from her cunt, as well. And her body was still spasming with the memory of all that had happened.
Espizza, after dressing, led the naked Priscilla into the nearby bathroom, and there, showed her how to lie in the bathtub and douche herself. Then, while she was dressing, he wrote her a prescription for contraceptive pills, still insisting they were vitamins, instructing her to start taking them from the fifth day following the start of her period. From then on she was to renew her supply every month.
CHAPTER THREE
Priscilla was never one to display her anger violently. When she returned to the office that afternoon, she took Paul Fink aside and quietly but firmly told him she didn't appreciate being used.
"Hey, Prissy, stay calm," he told her. "No one used you. Look, to make things up to you, why don't you let me give you a trust account. It's a small one, I know. But it's a start. I'll instruct the back office you're in charge of the account, and any trades are to be okayed in advance by you. You get full commission. Okay?"
Somewhat mollified, Priscilla agreed, though she was far from convinced of Paul Fink's innocence in the matter. She accepted the list of stocks of a Mr. Norman Taylor, and looking at it, she immediately understood why Fink had been willing to give it to her. The account had a total worth of twenty thousand dollars, which, for a trust account, was almost nothing. And the stocks in the Taylor portfolio were the worst drek she had ever seen. Almost every stock was an over-the-counter stock, none of which paid a dividend. Each company's shares had a net asset value of five dollars or less. Looking at it, she was amazed the man had allowed Paul Fink to continue handling the account.
Calling the phone number on the sheet Fink had handed her, Priscilla soon discovered why Norman Taylor was so lax. To begin with, the trust account was one of a half dozen. It was the smallest one Taylor had, and each of the other five were ten times larger. He had given the six different accounts to six different trust departments, or rather, the trust department of six different brokerage firms two years earlier. Each firm had five years to prove it could do the best job, thereby enabling it to receive the other five trust accounts, as well.
When Taylor had given this trust account to Jacobson & Co., it had been worth close to fifty thousand dollars. Paul Fink had reduced it to twenty thousand in the past two years, trading in and out of more than two hundred rotten securities, taking losses for Taylor while making himself a lot of commissions. But the account had gotten so low, he dared not fool around with it any longer. This was another good reason for shunting it over to Priscilla. Fortunately, the account was not beyond repair, and Pris intended repairing it as best she could.
"Hi," Steffie Sanders greeted, walking into the trust department office. "How're things?"
Although she was smiling, Steffie had red eyes, and Pris, quick to notice, asked, "What happened to you?"
"What do you mean?" Steffie seemingly innocently came back.
"I mean, what happened to make you cry your eyes out?"
"It still shows?" Steffie asked.
"Uh huh," Pris nodded.
"Did Mr. Fink teach you how to handle a difficult customer?" Steffie asked.
"You too?" Pris uttered, her eyes wide open. "That man's insatiable. I lost my virginity to him that way."
"I guess I'm a little luckier than you," Steffie told her. "All he used was my mouth. He told me there'd be further lessons in the future. In fact, he even hinted he would be teaching the two of us together."
"I've already had lesson number two, only it wasn't from Mr. Fink," Pris told her, and explained what had happened at Doctor Espizza's.
"I get the weird feeling something is wrong here,"
Steffie told her. "Paul wanted to send me to a dentist he claimed had a big trust account. I got the 'curse' this morning and wasn't feeling any too good, so I told him to postpone it. For some reason he was more agreeable than I'd expected. Now I know why."
"What do you mean?" Pris asked.
"I mean our fearless leader is using us like a couple of whores. What was the name of the doctor you went to see?"
"Espizza."
Steffie went to the files, saying, "You keep an eye out for Mr. Fink. He's in the order department and we don't want him popping in on us unexpectedly."
So Pris went to the door, opened it a bit, and peered out. There was no one in the hallway, and the board room was quiet.
"Aha!" Steffie cried out, triumphantly.
"What is it?" Pris asked, coming back into the room.
"See for yourself," Steffie told her, handing her a large oaktag folder.
Pris looked at the name on the folder. Ralph Espizza. And when she opened it up and took a quick look, she recognized the same portfolio Espizza had shown her, earlier in the day.
"We've been had," Steffie told her.
"What are we going to do?" Pris asked.
"Well, staying here would be a dumb thing," Steffie told her. "All we'll do is screw more of Mr. Fink's clients. I think we ought to get out of here and try for jobs somewhere else."
"But where?"
"Are you kidding? I watched the way you research a security before making a recommendation. There are half a hundred small houses who deal with the New York Stock Exchange who would be more than happy to employ us. I'm just as thorough as you. We could work together and really do one terrific job for our clients."
"But first we need clients," Pris reminded her.
"Well, Mr. Fink showed us the perfect way to get them, didn't he?" Steffie asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Our bodies. Right now I can't use mine, but in five days I'll be just as good as ever. And why shouldn't we use our bodies for our own accounts instead of Mr. Fink's?"
Priscilla thought about it for a moment, then nodded, saying, "You're right, Steffie. And here's a list of all of Mr. Fink's customers. He not only handles the trust department, but he has his own regular customers as well. I'll bet we could work every one of them away from Mr. Fink. Heck, we'd be doing them a favor. He does a lousy job of managing stock portfolios. We could do a better job, but more important, we can offer certain 'fringe benefits' Mr. Fink is incapable of offering. Suppose we hang around until Friday, collect our paychecks, then go to work for another firm."
"I'm with you all the way," Steffie nodded.
CHAPTER FOUR
Prior to their leaving Jacobson & Co. the two girls had used their lunch hours to visit the various other small brokerage firms, and had finally come to an agreement with Sternfeld & Hertz. This was a much smaller company than Jacobson, but the manager, Robert Sternfeld, having checked the two young ladies out thoroughly, decided they were an acceptable risk. And so, on Monday morning, bright and early, the two girls entered the Sternfeld & Hertz Trust Department. This department was run by fifty-year-old Ed Horner. Horner, though a little pudgy, was totally un-like Paul Fink. He was easygoing, intelligent, with a constant sleepy-eyed look belying the clever brain behind them. He had kinky, dark hair, and wore half-glasses perched on the tip of his nose.
"I assume you girls know all about a trust department," he drawled.
"That's why we're here," Pris told him. "And I think we can bring in an entire new batch of trust accounts, too."
"Good, good, we can always use more business," Horner nodded.
"In fact," Pris continued, "I have a luncheon appointment with a gentleman today. If everything works out, I think we'll quadruple your present business."
"I like enthusiasm," Horner nodded. "But in the meantime, suppose we see what you girls really know."
For the next two and a half hours, Horner had the girls looking over the trust accounts he was handling. Both he, and the girls, were impressed with each other. They were amazed at how well he was doing for the accounts, striking a perfect balance between high quality securities, and high-income-paying stocks and bonds, though the latter were by no means of low quality. Horner didn't believe in touching a high risk stock. The bottom could very easily fall out.
Horner was amazed at some of the girls' suggestions for improving the accounts, and even went along with one or two, putting in the buy and sell orders himself. And because the girls had made the suggestions, he saw to it they got credit for the commissions.
At twelve fifteen, Priscilla, after freshening up, left the office and went to the Golden Horn Restaurant, where she had arranged to meet Harold Frischeen, the largest trust account at Jacobson & Co. Frischeen, she had discovered, was a widower, in his middle fifties, who rarely went out. When he finally walked up to her, recognizing her in her all-red outfit-shoes, miniskirt, jacket, and handbag-she was surprised by his mature masculinity. He was about six feet three inches tall, with sparse hair but an otherwise rugged face. His shoulders were square, with the military bearing of a high-ranking officer. She later learned he was a retired colonel. His suit covered a full chest and a slim waist.
"Miss Penard," he greeted, "it's a pleasure to meet you."
His voice was smooth, deep, and touched something deep inside her, arousing her. Priscilla would have wanted to seduce him even if he hadn't had a large trust account. Heck, she would have been happy to beg him for what she was certain was an immense cock.
As they ate, Priscilla discussed his account with him, explaining he wasn't getting the kind of servicing he required, considering the size of his account.
She showed him just what he now held, and how the account could definitely be improved.
Frischeen, listening to her, was visibly impressed. He liked her manner and decided she should have a chance at handling the account. What would be required would be a letter authorizing Sternfeld and Hertz to accept the account. Then Sternfeld and Hertz would send a transfer of account card to Jacobson & Co. The account would immediately be transferred over.
But Harold Frischeen was no fool, either. He realized he could get much more from the pretty young lady, and intended doing so. Hers was the kind of body to make the juices inside him start flowing freely as they hadn't in quite some time. He had avoided women, for the most part, because most of them had marriage on their minds, and at his age, he did not need another wife. He despised the idea of paying for it. Besides, who could tell what kind of social diseases one might pick up. The risk was far less with someone as young, fresh, and wholesome as Priscilla.
"May I invite you to my apartment for a drink?" Frischeen asked when luncheon was finished.
Both knew what he was asking. A refusal on Priscilla's part would mean she wasn't interested in him, physically. Not that Frischeen intended letting that get in the way of transferring his account. But Pris was still uncertain of herself, and not knowing that, accepted. Besides, a man like this would probably really know how to do things for a girl-in a sexual sense. Well, hell! This was the reason why she'd met with him in the first place. She was out to seduce him. Now he was taking the bait. "Certainly," she replied.
Although she had intended paying for the meal, because she had invited him out, Frischeen insisted he pay for it. Then he guided her into a nearby taxi, and fifteen minutes later they were in his fashionable duplex apartment.
"Would you care for a Scotch and soda?" he asked.
"Fine," she nodded, willing to accept anything. Drinking was not something in which she was well-versed. She didn't care that much for alcohol. True, she indulged, but not heavily.
He made the two drinks and handed one to her, sitting in a large, plushly upholstered chair. Pris, realizing the time had come for her to be a little more forward, sat on the arm of the chair.
Both sipped their drinks, and Frischeen's arm casually draped itself around her buttocks. Pris sat there without flinching, feeling the warmth of his hand as it cupped her firm cheek.
"I find you very refreshing as an individual," he told her. "You're intelligent, and you obviously know a lot about investments. You used your knowledge to show me how I would be better off with you rather than attempting to use your body."
"One thing has nothing to do with the other," she told him, lying. "My body is to be used for my own enjoyment, and not for business."
"I'm happy to hear that," he nodded. "I feel the same way."
"Oh? Do you mean your body is used strictly for pleasure?"
"I mean I would not have appreciated your using your body as a means of getting business from me. The fact that you don't use it as part of your business makes me respect you all the more. You see, I've decided to give the account to Sternfeld and Hertz whether or not you want to stay here with me this afternoon."
"As I noted a moment ago, one thing has nothing to do with the other. I find you fascinating as a man. My staying here has nothing to do with business. You see, even if you had decided otherwise, I would still be here. At this moment, I'd like to think you find me as interesting as I find you."
"I think precisely the way you think," he smiled.
"That means we'd both think better lying down."
"That seems to be a pretty accurate summation," he nodded. "And since you're twisting my arm . . . " and he placed his other hand on her knee, while the hand rubbing her buttocks kneaded the solid, resilient flesh, pleased to find she didn't need a girdle.
"Mmmmmm, that feels good," she told him, "but it wasn't your arm I was thinking of twisting," and she let her own hand smooth its way down the front of his shirt, below his belt, onto his pants, then onto his groin where her fingers lightly teased his half-grown cock. He reacted by letting his fingertips travel from her knee along the full length of the soft white, pantyhose-encased thigh until it was right up between her full buttocks, feeling the tight nylon surrounding it. The touch of her sent lascivious shivers of thrilling anticipation through his body. It had been such a long time since he'd had a woman.
"Ummmmmmm . . . " she hummed, her eyes half closing as a thrilling wave of sensuality swept through her. Her thin, moist lips parted as she lowered her face to his, whispering, "Just make certain you don't start something you can't finish." And her hand moved below his hard cock, feeling the soft ovals of his balls, squeezing them lightly, making him jump a little.
"Unnnggghhh, lord," Frischeen groaned, feeling the way his hard penis was suddenly wildly throbbing, trying to tear through the tightness of his underwear. "Don't worry about my starting something I can't finish," he gasped. "I'm all ready for anything you want."
And then his lips felt the cool moistness of her mouth. Unable to restrain himself, he lanced his tongue deeply into her throat, touching her palate, gums, and teeth on the way in. His licking tongue made Priscilla moan. This time there was no fooling around, beating about the bush, trying to out-maneuver the man. This time it was pure lust, and Pris knew it was solely for the satisfaction of inner body flame. Soft, low moans rose from her throat as she kissed him, her tongue responding to his. He was a man, all right. He was all man.
Frischeen's extended middle finger, under her skirt, pushed the smooth, flimsy nylon of her pantyhose into the tight, warm crevice between her rounded buttocks. His finger teased the small, puckered brownie of her asshole, making her trim body tremble violently against his. This made her grasping hand tighten around his balls, squeezing them harder while rubbing the heel of her hand against his solidly rigid cock. The pressure of her fingers made him moan into her mouth as her other hand cupped the back of his head and pulled his face even closer. He was gasping and sighing all at the same time, and Pris knew he wanted her for herself, just as she was aching to be fucked by him. Her tongue stabbed between his lips again and again, slashing at his tongue, as if her own tongue were a cutting knife.
Abruptly, she pulled her mouth away from his, feeling her blood boiling as it throbbed in her arteries, her lips seeming to swell from the pressure they'd applied to his. She could still feel his sucking and nibbling, and it made her hotter than ever. Her fingers moved from his heavy balls back to the full thickness of his cock, tightly grasping it through his pants. And she began wildly jerking on it, as if desperate to pull it out from behind the barrier of clothing.
"Why . . . uhhhh . . . don't you show me your playpen?" she asked.
"Right this way," he throatily purred, standing and leading her toward a flight of stairs.
He picked her up, and Priscilla was amazed at how light she seemed in his strong, masculine arms as he hurriedly mounted the stairs and carried her into his bedroom. She was still holding her drink, and had enough presence of mind to set it on the nearby night table once he'd put her down. Wasting no time, she proceeded to instantly undress, noticing Frischeen was watching her the entire time. He, himself, was undressing, as well. And once her white, slender form was naked, she lay on the bed, not feeling the least bit ashamed of spreading her legs and letting him look. The previous week when the doctor had looked at her naked body she had felt embarrassed and frightened, even though she'd wanted to seduce him. Now, knowing what was happening had nothing to do with convincing anyone to do business with her, Pris felt so much more relaxed. Whoever his wife had been, she had been lucky to have married him. Pris was certain this was a man who knew how to make a wife feel like a queen. He was well-to-do, wealthy in fact, but he was the kind of a man who could make a woman feel good no matter how much money was in the bank.
Looking at his solid body now that he'd undressed, she decided he looked like he had enough stamina to satisfy any woman. She could tell he wasn't a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am type. Rather he seemed as much a sexual gourmet as he was a connoisseur of good clothing and excellent furniture. She was glad, because this was only her third experience. Though her first two had ended up delightfully, they had begun poorly. She had felt pain with each of them. Somehow she knew this was not the kind of man to cause pain. Nor would he mock her or think of her as sexually crude just because she was still learning.
The more she thought about sex, the more she realized she was glad Paul Fink had opened up her mind as well as her body to it. True, she would have been happier with a more sensual teacher, but Fink had finally managed to make her feel good.
Frischeen had made her understand sex was something one could do simply because one liked it and not because it was good business. This didn't mean she intended abandoning the use of sex in promoting her business. But it did mean she would have to be more discriminating, at least when it came to why she was sleeping with a man. She would have to sound the man out and see what he was like, first. If seduction was what was needed to make him respond, then by all means, use it. But if the man was anything like Harold Frischeen, sex was something in which she would indulge whether or not she succeeded, business-wise.
Pris realized she would have to be very careful. She liked Frischeen, and she could become involved emotionally. Until today, it had never occurred to her this was something that could lead to falling in love. Odd! Her parents, and many others like her parents, fell in love, got married, and then indulged in sexual intercourse. And as a result many of them, her parents included, found themselves sexually frustrated for not having found the right mate. This soured them on sex, and as a result, they ignorantly brought up their children to believe sex was something one did only after getting married. Prior to that, one must not even talk about it.
In a way, Paul Fink had been a very lucky accident for her. And much as she disliked Dr. Espizza as a person, his teaching her how to douche meant good personal hygiene. She still didn't associate the act of fucking with pregnancy.
Pris was wise enough to realize she still had a lot to learn where sex was concerned, but she preferred "on the job training" with men like Frischeen, to what Paul Fink had had in mind. When she'd kissed Frischeen she'd realized he'd had nice-smelling breath, even though it was slightly tainted by the Scotch. Paul Fink had almost rotten breath, and Dr. Espizza's breath had smelled of garlic.
Having realized fucking could be a totally different experience with different men, Pris was in no hurry to marry, herself. She realized she would be self-sufficient in the business world, so she didn't need a man to support her. It was therefore important she broaden her experiences and learn all there was to know before eventually taking that final step.
Frischeen was down to his briefs now, and she stared, watching with glowing eyes as he removed them, revealing just how fantastically he was built. It was fully erect, jutting away from his body at a forty-five degree angle, the glans as big as her closed fist. The knob was an angry red color, and as she stared at it, she really wondered whether her narrow channel was capable of absorbing such a monster. She ground her white buttocks deeper into the bed as she felt tingling nerves throughout her body suddenly shimmer and come to life. There was a strong pulsating in her thighs, and her nipples, without being touched, were pinkly erect.
"Ohhhhhhh!" was all she could moan, licking her sensuously thin lips as she stared with a starved look at his fat, heavy prong.
As she watched, it twitched and throbbed strongly, the large head swelling even more before receding. And Pris realized it was so huge because he was staring at her body, admiring her white nudity, his stare burning into the thin, pink slice of vagina barely visible beneath the growth of ebony fluff.
"You are a truly beautiful woman," he told her. "I have known many women in my lifetime, including my wife, whom I loved and adored above all women. But I can truly say, I've never seen a woman as physically beautiful as you. If you're as good as you look, I might well end up with a coronary."
He was amazed at how physically perfect she appeared. Even the little smile on her mouth seemed just right, provoking him in a wonderfully licentious way as her own eyes remained locked on his thick cock and the way it twitched above his heavy, weighty, semen-filled testicles. She was a veritable goddess; a Venus, an Aphrodite, an Astarte. And the sight of her slightly parted thighs; the revealing of her slightly moistened cuntlips; the twitching of her opening and closing labia; made him stare all the harder. He was holding his breath he was so aroused, and the pulses in his temple were pounding with maddening power.
"Wider," he whispered. "Open your thighs wider."
She obeyed, feeling good, knowing this was a mutual feeling between them and not the overpowering of one person with the sexuality of the other. The sight of his throbbing cock made her feel wantonly wicked and in flaming heat.
"Use your fingers," he gasped. "Spread those sweet labia with your fingers."
His voice was hoarse as he moved closer to the foot of the bed, to better look at her. Her smile was more arousing than ever as she reached between her thighs, fingers pressing on each slender column, and finally found the pink flower of her sweet pussylips with her middle finger. The deep red of her fingernail looked like a drop of blood against the pinkness of her labia. Aided by her thumb, her finger began parting the dark, ebony curls of pelvic moss. Then the middle finger moved into the center of the wet, pink gash and began moving up and down, massaging the anxious clitoris, making it swell and peep out from behind the membranous tissue behind which it was hiding. At the same time she slowly undulated her hips, bringing all her slender body into motion, half-closing her brown eyes because the pressure was so erotically inflaming. But to Frischeen, her half-closed eyes looked like smoky, alluring little lamps, drawing him closer to her.
Christ! he thought, watching as she began building the heat in her body. I've never seen anyone like her. She's the most arousing sight on Gods green earth.
He permitted his eyes to wander up and down over the never ending, lush curves of her lasciviously displayed body. Tingling sensations ran through him, making his bare skin prickle, seemingly reaching right down into his groin. He felt as if a hand were tightly clutching his hard cock from within. His throbbing phallus swelled all the more as his greedy eyes observed the perfect shape of her small breasts, firm, erect, with large pink circles looking like suction cups surrounding thick pink nipples. She rolled her lush body from one side to the other, tempting him closer and closer, and her shuddering nipples enlarged even more, seeming to draw tiny circles in the air. And all the while she smiled provocatively at him, still lingering her clitoris, the red nail now looking like a flame running through her. He couldn't believe how far in her waist curved, so impossibly narrow under her small, firm, white, jutting tits. Her winking navel looked like a sapphire set in a pane-flat belly, and her hips, while not as large as those of many women, still flared like a narrow valentine with the fluffy curls of hair darkly set in her pubis. Her still-girlish legs seemed long and tapered, and the flesh was so white he knew no razor had ever touched her skin. Hair just didn't seem to grow on her legs. Her toenails, like her fingernails, were painted a bright, blood-red.
Harold Frischeen was a tremendously sensuous man. He had earned his money early in life, doing some wildcatting with oil before his army stint. He had married just as he thought his luck had run out, and hadn't figured out why Diane, his wife, had ever bothered with him. He knew why he had married her. She was a goddess, much like this one. Her body might not have been as perfect, but when it came to making him feel like a man there had never been anyone to equal her. Although she had been a virgin, she seemed to adapt to sex so readily, he found he was soon learning all kinds of variations from her; things she had thought she'd made up, not realizing nothing on earth is really new. What she had believed were new sexual ideas were simply things practiced by every bawd since the oldest profession had come into existence.
Frischeen had enjoyed every moment with his wife. When he had become wealthy, he had enjoyed showering her with all kinds of gifts. He had been certain she would outlive him. How was he to know she had a weak heart? She had died in the throes of orgasm one night, and as a result, he had been afraid to become physically involved with a woman for a long time afterward.
It had taken a whore to draw him out of his shell, and he hadn't even known she was a whore, or he never would have had anything to do with her. A friend of his, Angelo Mendetto, had seen the way he'd been physically suffering, and had paid a high-class whore five hundred dollars to seduce him while he'd been away at a hotel for a weekend. She had casually met him and in no time had wiped out all his fears. Then she had disappeared. But Harold Frischeen knew he had his confidence back. From then on, it had simply been a matter of discrimination as to whom he would sleep with. When he'd seen Priscilla, he had instinctively known she was a woman he wanted. Now he was pleased to find her wanting him just as much as he had wanted her.
Looking at Priscilla, he knew she was very young, but he also knew hers was the kind of body that would hold up over many, many years. The man who eventually ended up marrying her would be very fortunate. He had no doubt she had some sexual experience, but from the way she was undulating, he could tell, compared to his wife she was a rank amateur. She was a sexy rank amateur, but she was still an amateur. But she would learn, and when she was fully versed, he was certain, her husband, whoever he was, would die in her arms. She was the kind of girl who could take on an entire army and make each man feel he was the one she truly loved.
His eyes rested on her ivory-white thighs, looking up into the valley between them, gazing at the pink, narrow vaginal slit wetly shining with a heavy flush of juices she was beginning to heavily secrete.
Priscilla's other hand was patting the bed beside her as she motioned for him to lie beside her.
"I can stay like this all afternoon, if you can," she teased. "But since I'm rubbing my own vagina for you, the least you could do is give me some kind of thrill by pulling on that thick pole of yours."
Her two experiences the previous week had made Pris very aware of men, their wants and their needs. From the licentious look in Frischeen's eyes, she was fully aware he wanted to get on with it, but for the first time in a long time, he seemed uncertain. It was as if he feared touching her would actually be violating something pure. She had to writhe some more on the mattress so her bouncing, rounded ass-cheeks seemed to corkscrew their way into the bedcover. She enjoyed the way her exhibiting of herself made his throbbing prick swell even more as his scrotum tightened around his swelling testicles.
"You're one hell of a cockteaser, aren't you?" he said, smiling at the obscene way her hips gyrated on the bed.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and his hands reached out to run lightly over her small, ripe, fruit-like breasts, pausing to pinch each grape-like pink nipple.
"Ahhhhh," she gasped. "No, Mr. Frischeen, Td make a very poor cockteaser, as you call it." And her free hand reached down and wrapped itself around the thick pike of his shuddering cock. "Oh my goodness, that has to be the biggest cock I've ever touched."
"Then you haven't touched very many," he said. "Although I'm big, there are many considerably bigger. And stop calling me Mr. Frischeen. That's much too formal considering our circumstances. My name is Harold. From now on you will refer to me as Harold. When you call me on the phone you will address me as Harold. Is that clear?"
His own fingertips rode smoothly down over her flat, white belly into the patch of feather-light black hair curling beneath the palm of the hand she still had thrust between her thighs. Little by little his hand moved under her working fingers and took their place, massaging her clitoris with his own fingers, making her groan and sigh, feeling her hand squeeze his pulsating cock a little harder.
"And you are Prissy," he told her. "And what I am now touching is Prissy's pretty pussy."
There was burning heat coming from the wet hole between her thighs, and his finger now dipped into the flaming well, parting the inner lips a little, opening her up, realizing how unbelievably tight she was. He moved the tip of his finger around and around inside the tight oval mouth of her pulsating vaginal entrance.
"That hot cunt of yours is really ready," he whispered. "Now open those thighs wide and I'll give you a big surprise."
But before Frischeen could do anything, Pris suddenly clamped her thighs tightly shut, squeezing her hot cuntlips around the tip of his invading finger as she began wildly humping up and down on the bed.
"Oh Godd!" she gasped. "Godddddd! I'm . . . uhhhh . . . going to come . . . going to come. . . come . . . COMMMMMM! UGGGGHHHH!"
And she began bucking even more crazily, her compressing cuntlips rubbing harder and harder against the fingertip moving in and out of her. Her hand squeezed his cock all the more tightly, jerking it up and down, and now Frischeen felt himself gasping.
"You keep that up," he told her, "and I'll . . . uggghhhh . . . shoot all over the ceiling . . . "
Pris was still moving up and down, out of control, unaware her hand was clutching Frischeen's throbbing cock. She screamed again as a third orgasm shot through her. God! She no longer had any control over herself. Once the climaxes started coming, they didn't seem to stop.
Frischeen was amazed at the girl's capacity to orgasm. No female he had ever known, his wife included, had ever been able to come like this girl. The way her vaginal interior was contracting let him know there was no way he would be able to fit his pulsating phallus into that narrow channel. And he knew his fucking instrument was too thick to fit into an asshole. Besides, he always considered ass-fucking something of a crudity. True, he had done it once or twice in his life, but never with women he respected. No, ass fucking was out of the question. True, there was always her mouth, but it always seemed to him not to be in good taste for him to broach the subject first.
Pris, through the haze of her climax, realized what was happening. Her orgasms were so close and so powerful, there was no way her cunt would open up enough to let him fit his cock inside. Yet she didn't dare walk out and leave him frustrated.
She was fully aware she had been frustrated for a long time prior to her meeting with Paul Fink. After he had fucked her, she'd had her first good night's sleep in two years. She had no intention of letting Harold Frischeen suffer such tortures.
Little by little her own orgasms subsided, and her thighs slowly opened, releasing Frischeen's hand. Her own hand loosened its hold on his throbbing cock, and though she now cupped his balls, she did so very delicately.
Priscilla sat up, and with a slight pressure from her palm, forced him to lie back on the bed. She knew she had to make good. Disappointing him would be like disappointing herself.
She stared at the upstanding poker, seeing the leaking fluid seeping from its tip. With her finger she tried rubbing the fluid back into his flesh, but the more she rubbed, the more fluid kept seeping out.
Thinking back, she remembered Steffie telling her Paul Fink had made her use her mouth the way he'd made Pris use her pussy. Too, Frischeen had a very thick cock, and if a thin cock, like Ralph Espizza's had been designed for her ass, a thick one like
Harold Frischeen's, too thick now to fit into her snapping tight cunt, would fit perfectly into her mouth.
"I'm new at this," she told him, sitting up on her knees, staring into his eyes. "If I don't do it right, please don't be angry. I'm doing my best. I really am."
"Hey," he smiled, his body still trembling. "Stop worrying. Whatever we do, we do because we enjoy it. You don't have to make explanations to me. You just enjoy whatever it is you do, like I've been enjoying myself."
Pris wished all men were like this one. There would be a lot less trouble in the world if it were so. God! He was wonderful.
Her two hands clutched his thick, long rod, massaging the heavy pole. She leaned forward, face a few inches from the tip of the towering massivity. Her cool breath seemed to blow all over the rigid phallus, drying the thick, oily fluid seeping from it. The mere touch of her breath was enough to set his swollen dork shuddering anew.
Frischeen stared, fascinated, his body up on its elbows, his entire self trembling from the effect of his desire for her. For some reason he was able to sense her anxiety. She had confessed he was the first she was doing this to, and it made him feel good, knowing she was still unknowing about certain things. When a woman knew more than he, he became afraid of the woman.
And then that anxious moment for which he had been waiting arrived as her tongue, of its own free will and accord, suddenly leaped out of her mouth and caught a drop just emerging from the tiny slit in his phallic glans. The head of his penis trembled and swelled even more as he felt the light tingle of her tongue against him.
Pris felt the texture of the head of his cock with her tongue, and found it was smoother than she had imagined it to be. When touching it with her fingers it had always seemed rougher than the rest of his throbbing dick. She hadn't known what to expect, but so far, she had to admit to herself, she was not the least bit afraid. There was no way he would hurt her. And this knowledge, more than anything else made her bold.
Her tongue began slowly circling the throbbing head, and soon maddening chills were shooting through his entire body. They began deep down inside, then rumbled to the top, shooting out through his skin.
Frischeen's hand reached down and his fingers coiled themselves in her ebony hair, slowly bringing her red, lip stick painted mouth closer to his throbbing putz. And then he felt the warm oval of her lips as they slowly closed around his thrumming penial point. Her soft inner mouth closed slowly around his hot prick, sending wild, aching sensations shooting through his body. Oh God! It had been so long, so long. Frischeen couldn't take the slowness. Oh Christ! It was too much to bear.
With a loud bellow that echoed around the room, he pressed down on her head, driving his hot cock forward into the burning depths of her quivering mouth, ramming relentlessly until he felt his rubbery point strike her throat. He held it there a long moment and was gratified to feel her lips close tightly around it as her hot, buttery mouth sucked, her jaws strongly pulling, her tongue rubbing up and down against the sensitive underside.
Priscilla would never know what it was that made her clamp her lips so tightly around the pulsating prick, but she did know now that it was solidly in her mouth, she didn't want to let go. Mmmmm! God! It tasted wonderful, like nothing she'd ever sucked before. Unable to control herself, she felt her mouth sucking more and more of it in, rubbing the leaking point against the back of her throat, sucking, licking wildly with her tongue, tasting a rich, meaty flavor. She even risked chewing a little, and found him jumping in response, as if enjoying what her teeth were doing. If it had been her choice, she would have remained that way, with the flesh staff jammed into her mouth, with two inches still protruding below her lips.
But the choice wasn't hers; it was Frischeen's. He was the one to be made happy at this point. So when he bounced his own ass up and down on the bed, using his fingers to grip her hair tightly and move her head up as he was going down, then down as he was going up, starting a long, stroking movement, she obeyed, understanding what he wanted. His swollen dork seemed to swell even more as he brought it to a greater sensitivity, running it back and forth between her lips.
Staring at the way his solid hunk of meaty muscle moved in and out between the circle of her lips intensified the licentious thrills shooting through his inner self. God! He felt hotter and hotter. His throbbing prick was now glistening with her saliva as it ran in and out of her mouth, looking like nothing less than a drenched log of yielding wood. At the same time her hands were gently rubbing his soft balls, moving them around in their sac without causing pain. Then one hand moved to fill that two-inch gap at the base of his cock, ringing it with her thumb and fingers, pumping in time to the way her head was moving up and down. He was able to feel the softness of her inexpert tongue swirl maddeningly around the tip each time her head rose, the point of her tongue literally slicing into the little slit in the head of his cock, slurping out more of the viscous fluid. His eyes were riveted to what her mouth was doing, but his hands were no longer holding her head. It was bobbing without any pressure from his fingers. Her mouth slurped loudly in its obscene labors around his pulsing prick. The lascivious sight drove him crazier with each passing moment.
Pris felt her mouth completely clogged with the huge, swollen cock. Her tongue could sense the way it throbbed, and now she tightened the grip of her lips, sucking, sucking, sucking. The edges of her teeth pressed into the thickness of his shank, leaving a trail of white, bloodless scrapes under the skin. She shifted her position slightly, making herself a little more comfortable and enabling her to take in another quarter inch of pulsating prick. Her hand, which had been playing with his balls, now roamed between his thighs and began teasing his asshole. She squeezed his flat ass-cheeks, as well, and this brought loud moans from deep within him. Her tongue continued its teasing, roaming around the thick head of the hard cock, feeling the gland swell even more as she rammed her face a little closer to his crotch, feeling the point of his penis actually press into her gullet. She almost gagged, but caught herself. She didn't want to make any sounds that would interrupt his enjoyment of what she was doing. She knew her esophagus had a narrow entrance, still . . . she wondered if she could fit the swollen cock inside. If so, if she could take the entire head and an inch of shaft into her tight gullet, her lips would be able to touch the hairy base of his pelvis. Just why this was important, Priscilla didn't know, yet somehow, in some way, she felt she had to be able to suck the entire wonderful length of hard prick into her mouth and keep it there until he finally came.
Frischeen felt the storm building in his balls and knew it wouldn't be long now. This might have been her first time, but in the girl's anxiety to please she was performing better than many women he had known who were experienced. His thrusting, swollen pecker head felt as if it were ready to burst.
It was so enlarged, he was certain the girl's narrow throat, clogged as it was, would gag. Yet he continued stroking his solid prong deeper and deeper, and her tongue continued licking with maddening spirals, and her lips sucked loud and noisily as she appeared unaware of any thing save the long, throbbing length of rigid muscle pumping between her lips.
Tremendous torrents of sensation were building higher and higher in his aching testicles, and he could see perspiration forming heavily all over her face and forehead. The more her face plunged up and down on his pumping staff, the heavier the sheen of perspiration became, and then he could feel the heavy droplets falling on his groin and thighs as drops continued falling down the side of her face. Her head was moving up and down more rapidly than any hand could pump, and he could see her hanging little breasts bouncing wildly as they dangled, the nipples time and again touching his thighs.
Frischeen felt the strong muscles in his stomach tighten, and he arched his back upward, slamming his thighs higher toward her beautiful face, thrilled so lovely a countenance was surrounding his meaty cock. His loins jerked excitedly, moving closer and closer to her lovely face, partially obscured by the dangling midnight-hair clinging to her alternately bloated and hollowed cheeks. He fucked upward even faster and harder now, slamming his thick penis between those slender sucking lips, watching them pull out, displaying their inner pink softness each time he tugged his hard cock back.
Pris was able to take a little more of his throbbing phallus into the depths of her throat each time, her gullet ring opening a bit more as she relaxed it. Little by little her head was going lower and lower, and her narrow lips were reaching closer and closer to their hairy goal. As it was, his pelvic curls tickled her nose and brushed her upper lip. Now she had to feel the flesh of his pelvis through the brown matting of hair there.
Had she witnessed some other female doing this first, she might well have been disgusted. But because she, herself, was involved in it, inhaling his strong, pleasing masculine scent, tasting the smooth, meaty flavor of his vibrating cock, she became aroused all over again. Her thighs clamped together as the outer vaginal lips clamped tightly around the large, extended clitoris. She was unaware of the fact her clitoris was half again as long as that of most women. It felt compressed between her tightly squeezing cuntlips, and she proceeded to rub her thighs back and forth, massaging and stimulating the tiny organ. Wild thrills were chasing themselves through her womanly body as she sucked all the more strongly, now. The penis in her mouth was no longer there so she could give him pleasure. By rubbing into her gullet, it was giving her pleasure. There was an erotic area in her throat that was being massaged again and again by the moving cock, and though she still felt a slight choking sensation, it made her that much more aroused. Although she found it hard to believe, it was possible for a woman to have an oral orgasm, as well.
Frischeen groaned repeatedly, his mouth opening and closing as he gasped out incoherent mumblings. His teeth slammed together again and again, unable to believe so young and inexperienced a girl was building such wild sensations in him. The last time he had felt such wild sensations had been an eon ago, when he had first bedded down his wife.
Once more, his hands flew to her head. She had the entire thick cock in her mouth now. She was swallowing the full length again and again, massaging it with her lips and driving him wild. He was thrusting into her so fast, his ass was a blur. Had anyone slipped small stones beneath his ass as he moved, he would have ground them to powder the way his buttocks was slamming into the mattress. The moment was no longer approaching; it was there. He was going to come. He was going to shoot his load, and he was going to fire it into her belly via her throat without giving her tongue or lips a chance to taste it.
"AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" he growled and grumbled, the low guttural sound rising out of his chest as he felt the lava-like sperm began its rapid travel up from his steaming balls, through the slender tube in the underside of his pulsing prick, finally jetting in needle-thin streams down her hungry throat. Priscilla's passion-flushed cheeks hollowed in all the more tightly, pressing around the thickness of his cock stem, greedily gulping the tasty seed down her anxious throat, letting it form pools in her belly. It wasn't until he began shrinking, and his penis could no longer fit its full length into her mouth and down her throat that she was finally able to taste the white seed. Against her tongue and palate it was like creamed caviar, and she swallowed and pulled with her lips, hoping to drain more of his dripping spunk from inside his thrusting phallic worm.
The harder she sucked, the more jism she pulled out, and the more she drained him, the smaller his cock shriveled. Finally, she decided it was empty. There was nothing more she could suck from him. But she continued compressing the spongy head between her lips as she rolled her thighs together again and again, suddenly shuddering as another series of orgasms overtook her. Her lips pulled even more tightly on his tiny cock as tremors wracked her body over and over.
When her own inner earthquake had subsided, Pris finally removed her lips from his drained cock. She felt weak and limp, and made no resistance as he dragged her up beside him.
"You're quite a woman," he told her. "I've never known anyone quite like you."
"That makes two of us," she answered, "since I've never encountered anyone like you."
"I'd like to see more of you," he insisted.
"There isn't much more of me you can see unless you want X-rays."
"You know what I mean," he told her.
"Yes," she nodded. "I know what you mean. And I think it can be arragned, from time to time. I find you utterly fascinating."
She fell asleep after that.
When she awoke, he had coffee perking. She would have made love with him again, but he confessed she had drained him.
"There'll be other times," he assured her. "Lots of them."
CHAPTER FIVE
Harold Frischeen's trust account was immense, and Ed Horner was amazed Priscilla had been able to bring it into the house of Sternfeld & Hertz. But then, Steffie had also brought in two nice-sized accounts. The girls were turning out to be the two most valuable members of the company. They had already made substantial trades in the accounts they'd brought in, and each would be taking home two hundred and fifty dollars a week for the next four months. Their accounts were building up nicely.
The next name on the list they had taken from Jacobson & Co. was Joanne DeFranco. Pris realized she might have a bit more trouble convincing Ms. De Franco to switch her account, since she doubted the woman would be interested in the same benefits she had to offer Harold Frischeen. But she had to try. The account was nearly a half million dollars big, though Pris was willing to bet it had been much bigger before Paul Fink had gotten his hands on it.
Pris called the woman and set up an appointment for the following week. Her own period had come, and the cramps were very annoying. For the rest of that week, she sat in the Sternfeld & Hertz board room, watching the stocks go by on the ticker tape. Herman Horowitz, the board room manager soon became an annoyance. He was large, overweight, burly, with white hair and a a nasty temper. True, he was showing his best side to Pris, but she had seen him chew out more than one broker for not producing enough business. A man like that could be a detriment to the firm, since he wanted men trading their clients in and out for commissions, regardless of whether or not it was good for the clients. He was a good producer, himself, but she was willing to bet his customers suffered because of it. When he continued attempting to ingratiate himself with her, she finally snapped, "Get away from me, Herman. I'm in the trust department. I'm not in your jurisdiction. I don't owe you a damn thing."
"I could do you a lot of good while you're here,"
Horowitz told her. "So you keep a civil tongue in your head when talking to me."
"The way I'm producing, they're more-likely to fire you than me. So sit on it, Herman."
Meanwhile, Steffie had brought in a third account. It was the small one Paul Fink had originally given her to placate her for teaching her how to use her mouth. The customer was overjoyed to finally see someone show an interest in his account for his sake rather than for the trades that could be made.
The week seemed to take forever. Pris wanted to get on with making money. She had never thought it could be so enjoyable.
Sunday, the fifth day of her period, she went to a local drugstore and got Dr. Espizza's prescription filled. And she began taking the pills as prescribed.
Her parents were proud of her, making good in so short a time. It was unbelievable. To think, their little girl was succeeding in the world of high finance. And as far as they were concerned, business seemed to agree with her. Her body had a healthier glow to it, she was smiling all the time. Yes, work was good for their daughter.
CHAPTER SIX
Monday afternoon, Pris went to visit Joanne DeFranco. The woman lived in an elite part of town, in a small, three-room apartment reeking with elegance. There was something different about Joanne, and Pris sensed it the moment she entered the apartment. For all its elegance, it was not feminine. All the furniture, all the designs were masculine. And Joanne, herself, a stunning brunette, had her brown hair tied back in a bow, and was wearing a wine-colored velvet suit, with a white, man-tailored blouse, and a wine-colored, matching tie. She looked about thirty.
Pris sat on the large Victorian sofa and explained the reason for her visit, and Joanne listened. When Pris was finished, Joanne said, "I agree, I could do much worse than to take the account away from the trust department at Jacobson, but even though you've explained to me what you would do to improve it, how can I be certain about you?"
"I don't understand," Pris replied.
"Dear girl," Joanne said, pouring out two glasses of cognac. "I confess my knowledge of finances is limited. But my knowledge of banks and investment companies is fairly good. Most banks, brokerage firms, and the like don't give a damn about the individual accounts they handle. Most accounts, like mine, are almost always poorly mismanaged. One must get to know the individual on a personal basis when allowing that individual to manage the account. For instance, I knew Tony Dorano, the man who handled the Jacobson trust department before this Mr. Fink. Mr. Dorano was a fine man, and under him, my account grew from a hundred and fifty thousand dollars to nearly three quarters of a million. Mr. Fink has reversed the process, and I have been looking for a company to manage whatever is left of my money before Mr. Fink utterly wipes out the account. But I'd like some sign of good faith on your part. I mean, unless there's some kind of personal bond between us, I don't think I'd dare let my account into your hands."
"Well, I'd very much like to give you a sign of good faith, as you call it," Priscilla responded. "But I don't quite know what it is you want."
"Dear girl," Joanne told her, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "The sign I want is something pleasant, very pleasant. I'm certain if we come to an agreement concerning a personal relationship, we can extend that agreement to financial matters."
Pris began understanding, even though it still wasn't completely clear to her. She'd had no idea a woman would want some kind of sexual relationship with her, yet that was precisely what Joanne DeFranco seemed to be proposing. She had heard of this kind of woman. She was a Lesbian.
Having discovered relationships between men and women were far from the disgusting thing her parents had attempted to make her believe, it occurred to Pris a relationship with a woman might be similarly interesting. It might even be enjoyable. By playing with another woman, Pris decided she might be able to discover what it was about her body that fascinated men.
"I quite agree," Pris nodded.
"Good," the other woman smiled, putting down her empty cognac glass. Pris did he same. Then the two women got to their feet, as Joanne said, "I think you'll agree, a bed will be far more comfortable."
"Yes, yes," Pris nodded.
Her legs felt a little weak. For some reason she felt uncomfortable. Had Joanne been a man, the whole thing would have been exciting, but the idea of a woman seemed a little too much. Yet, she had already agreed, and she knew full well to back out now would be to lose the account. Where, with Harold Frischeen, her body was simply a pleasure instrument to be enjoyed, with Joanne DeFranco it had become a tool of business.
"You're very beautiful," Joanne told her, as they entered the bedroom. "But then you know that. You'd have to be blind not to see it."
"Thank you," Pris nodded. "You're very lovely yourself."
"Handsome," Joanne told her. "I'm handsome. Come, let me help you undress."
Her hands were gentle, and Pris felt very warm. More, she felt a little dizzy. The cognac. There had been something in it. She slowly sank to the bed and lay down, feeling as if she were lying in a row boat, floating on a quiet lake. Her body felt tiny prickles, and she knew she wanted to be loved and caressed.
Joanne's fingers moved slowly, opening the buttons of Pris' blouse, not wanting to disturb the tranquil feeling the girl was first starting to enjoy. One by one she undid the buttons, then removed the blouse.
Yes, she had drugged the girl with a mild aphrodisiac. There weren't supposed to be any real aphrodisiacs, but Joanne knew better. The drug she was using was totally different from any of the hard stuff being sold in the underworld market, nor was it anything like banana peel scrapings or LSD or even pot. It came from the jungles of South America, and it induced a state of euphoria, titillating the sexual organs from within, making the erogenous zones more sensitive to manipulation. It had cost Joanne a small fortune to get her hands on an ounce of the stuff, but she was glad she'd paid it. The stuff was terrific. It always worked, but most important, its only after-effect, which took place at least once a day, each day for the rest of the week, was to create the desire for sexual contact inside the person who had taken it.
With the blouse off, Joanne paused to look at Priscilla's lovely body, studying the details of her small, firm, bra-covered breasts along with her shapely hips and slightly curvaceous thighs. Yes, this was more than a lovely girl. This was an exceptionally stunning girl, and she, Joanne, had to possess her. Yes, once she totally undressed the luscious young creature, the two of them would truly be able to enjoy one another. There was no doubt in Joanne's mind this was Pris' first experience with another woman. Yet Joanne was gentle enough, and she knew she could make it enjoyable for the innocent young girl.
She had to kneel on the bed to turn the lush brunette onto her belly so she could work the skirt down and off, as well.
"Golly," Pris gasped. "I feel like I'm free-floating in the air." She almost giggled she felt so high. But she remained lying still, almost like a dead weight as Joanne got off the bed again. Cool air in the room seemed to saturate her body, tickling her, yet arousing her.
"Only the bra and pantyhose and we'll be ready," Joanne assured her, removing her shoes.
Unhooking the back of the girl's bra, she then reached down and began working both, panties and pantyhose off the girl's body. Her bare back was alabaster white, and Joanne noted the girl had no blemishes of any kind. There wasn't even a beauty mark on her. Her skin had a light sheen of perspiration, creating the illusion of white satin.
The melon-shaped swells of Pris' buttocks looked delightful. Joanne had the panties and hose below her thighs, and could see the dark crevice between the girl's perfectly rounded ass-cheeks. The quivering jelly-like firmness seemed to excite Joanne even more. She, too, had sipped a bit of the aphrodisiac, and could feel the heat building in her own body. Reaching between the girl's thighs, she felt the wetness of her steaming nookie, and became even more excited and aroused.
"Ummmmm," Pris sighed as she felt the light, gentle contact of Joanne's fingers against her tender vaginal lips. Wild, shivering chills went soaring up and down her spine, and her emotions confused her. These were the same feelings she'd felt with Harold Frischeen. A fiery sensation in her lower belly was growing and becoming more demanding. Yet the hotter she became, the higher she seemed to free-float. She put pressure on her elbows and breasts, lifting the lower half of her up to allow the easier removal of her panties and hose.
Pleased by Priscilla's response to touch, Joan removed the garments, and looking at the white, naked beauty in front of her, felt somewhat bolder. From the girl's even breathing, she was afraid Pris might have fallen asleep. Her own heart began pounding, worrying she might have given her too much of the aphrodisiac. Reaching out with her hand, she let her figure slowly tease their way up Pris' thigh.
"Yessssss," Pris hissed. "That feels so nice, so very nice."
Joanne was relieved to find the girl wide awake, even if she was drifting deeper and deeper into her euphoric state. Her mind might feel as if it were drifting, but she wouldn't be too far gone. There would be no numbness, neither of the body nor of the mind. Pris would be able to appreciate everything going on. The girl's cunt was dripping with liquid seeping from within. Joanne was going to have one big ball.
Standing, Joanne undressed herself, revealing an excellent feminine figure. She had the good sense not to abuse her body, even if it was a female body. She had tits, and she'd be damned if she would slice them off just because the masculine hormones inside her outbalanced the feminine hormones. Confronted with this lush, wonderful naked body, she intended enjoying it to the fullest, and she'd see to it Pris enjoyed it all, as well.
This was the kind of girl with whom she could easily fall in love. She would have to be careful. To fall in love with her would be to let herself be dominated by the girl. That was something Joanne didn't want. But she couldn't help feeling stimulated by the idea of making love to this sweet girl. She knew most of the rest of the world looked down on things like this as unnatural and obscene, but at the same time she was aware she needed this perverseness, and couldn't keep away from it. Still relatively young, with wide, flaring hips and a swollen cunt, her large, bouncing tits only seemed to heighten her need to play with another woman. Often, when she was alone, she closed her eyes and sucked on her own nipples, pretending another woman was with her. She had small aureoles, dark brown, matching her dark brown nipples.
"Priscilla?" she called out to the young girl, once more sitting on the bed.
Pris only murmured her response, sounding incoherent because her mind was centered on the wonderful feelings shooting through her. She was dreaming about the bedroom scene she had shared with Harold Frischeen. It seemed very real to her at that moment. After all, there was a naked body on the bed beside hers. Deep inside there was that overwhelming need to be loved and fucked. Her body was burning to be satisfied, and she wanted it to be teased and caressed all over.
"Ummmm . . . yesssss.. . yesssss.. . " she gasped as Joanne softly ran fingers up and down her sensitive spine.
Joanne was ready to whisper to the girl again, but then changed her mind. She decided words at this point were superfluous. She had some sort of spell over the girl, and talking might break it. Pris was reacting exactly as she wanted, so the smartest thing would be to speak with her hands.
Joanne's nipples were harder than chips of coal, and she could feel the heavy wetness forming in the soft folds of her own sucking cunt. Her continued caressing of Pris was making her more and more aroused. Bending forward, Joanne kissed the young girl's naked back, using her tongue to draw a wet line from the nape of her neck down to the top of her buttocks.
"Unnnnnhhhhh . . . ooooooooh . . . goooood," Pris sighed, feeling tiny sensations of heated flesh moistly running down her back.
God! Pris thought, first realizing what was happening to her. The woman was so unbelievably gentle, so delightful. She seemed to know just what to do. She wanted the fondling to go on indefinitely.
The girl was enjoying what she was doing, and it made Joanne feel good. As a female, she wished to impart nothing but pleasure to other females, and it made her happy to know when she was succeeding. She had an overpowering urge to turn the girl over and press herself against her, belly to belly and breast to breast. But Pris wasn't ready for that yet. Soon, though, very soon.
Now her tongue was running over the satin smoothness of each of Pris' ass-cheeks, and the thrilling, tantalizing scent of the girl's vaginal juices reached her nostrils, making them quiver. It mingled with the fainter scent of her own arousal. Soon she would have this precious girl so thrilled, she would beg for a cock. And though she was a woman, she had a "cock" she would be able to supply to the girl.
Joanne snapped her tongue back into her mouth, parting Pris' thighs even wider, and began blowing cool air into her. The air tickled Pris' labia, tantalized her inner labia, and ran up into her hot, burning pussy. Pris groaned and sighed, then gasped as Joanne's tongue moved between her inner thighs, touching her outer cuntlips, lapping the colorless sauce from them, then moving the tongue to the crevices where her legs joined her torso.
The teasing tongue touching her tender vaginal slices was like an electric wire sending lustful charges into her body, blistering her with shuddering desire. The thrilling feelings seemed to paralyze her, and even if she'd wanted to resist, Pris knew better than to try. The warmth of the cover and pillow under her body and face, rubbing against the solid nipples of her small, full breasts gave her a strange security that whatever happened would be for the best. It was all so good, she didn't want it to stop . . . ever. Pris made up her mind Joanne could do whatever she pleased. Her aching cunt was tingling with anxiety, and now she spread her thighs all the wider, giving that marvelous tongue greater access to the pool of her pink pussy.
Raven hair, even on her pelvis, Joanne noted, seeing strands sticking out from beneath the pink, primrose inner path. God! It was one lovely sight. Her mouth was watering, and she had to swallow to keep the saliva from spilling all over the girl's thighs.
Reaching between Priscilla's thighs with her left hand, Joanne slowly moved her middle finger through the wet slice into the sodden hole. Then she backed the finger out of the sucking swamp and moved along the coral crevice until she felt the long, hard, shuddering clitoris. She was amazed at the length and thickness of it, and envied Pris her sensitive nodule. She could feel the black, curling hairs rub against the tip of her finger, and used the thumb and forefinger of her other hand to part the pink pussylips even more widely. Her eyes stared at the rich, healthy, inner labia, and she felt hungrier than ever. This was a pussy meant for eating. When she moved her other hand back, she was actually able to see the long, pink nubbin of Priscilla's clitoris. The sight of it aroused her all the more, and she tickled the sensitive bud with her finger.
"Uuuuunnnggghhh!" Pris gasped, as the tickling finger lightly teased the pink extension again and again.
To Priscilla's mind, all the pleasures she had recalled, feeling Paul Fink's cock in her cunt, Ralph Espizza's prick in her tight asshole, and Harold Frischeen's stolid organ in her throat, returned. Even though nothing was touching her inner vaginal walls, nothing was teasing her asshole, and nothing was jammed down her throat, all the sensitive inner pressures seemed to be massaged. More orgasms welled up inside her, tantalizing her body again and again, teasing her, telling her she was coming, and yet.. . the climaxes weren't strong enough. They only seemed to make her feel hotter. Stimulating charges of sensual bliss came shooting from her body, blasting from the nerve center of her beaded clitoris. She began writhing against the bed, pressing her sensitive clitoris into the cover while feeling Joanne's massaging finger raise her to new, even more delectable heights. Her breath was coming in short, heavy gasps, and the blaze in her pussy was becoming stronger and stronger.
And then, Joanne's moving finger once again slipped into the sucking well of her steaming pussy. The slender finger, imitating a wonderful prick, tickled the scalloped edges of her inner labia, moving around and around and around. Then, just as it seemed it might push in more deeply, it once again withdrew. Pris writhed her body more intensely into the mattress, seeking the tempting finger. Her vaginal lips, like clamps, reached out and tried gripping the finger, but she couldn't find it.
"More," Priscilla begged. "More, more, more. Give me more."
Her moaning voice sounded as if she were drunk as Joanne once again slid her middle finger into the seething center of her sopping slit. She pushed the finger deeper and deeper this time, not stopping until the entire length of it was sucked all the way into her. Her finger ground around and around, while her palm pressed against the brunette's ass-cheeks, forcing the twin globes of her buttocks apart until her heel was actually grinding against the girl's puckered anal center. Now the finger worked in and out of the wet, gooey cuntal bog, bringing Pris to a higher level on the erotic scale. And Joanne felt intensely delighted, knowing she was the one making Pris wriggle all over the bed. God! Watching the way the girl was moving made her want to impale her own vagina. Not that she wanted a man's penis. Men were too boorish, too thoughtless, too concerned with fitting themselves into the narrow, tender passageways to think how it might be affecting the women they were fucking. Joanne had been fucked by men. Hell! She'd been laid, relayed, parlayed, and even filleted. But the fact that there was a man on the other end of the instrument wedged into her seemed to take away from the pleasure.
Hell! Her own cunt would receive plenty of enjoyment. Right now, she had to make sure Priscilla was enjoying everything. That was the thing of primary importance. Soon, she would have the girl so piping hot, when she turned her over, and the girl saw her, another female, doing all these things to her, she would accept her as casually as if she were a handsome, sexy male.
With her right hand, Joanne reached under the body of the prone girl and managed to grab her right nipple. This she began squeezing and pinching while she continued reaming her finger in and out of the beautiful girl's flooding snatch. The enlarging excitement in her own body became almost unbearable. She could no longer think of merely gratifying the girl. She had to do things to please herself, as well. Each sigh and gasp of enjoyment coming from Priscilla's open mouth seemed to mirror the feelings going on inside Joanne. From the intensity of feeling enlarging between her own thighs she knew she would have to do something now, or explode.
Keeping her left middle finger inside Pris' pussy, she used her right hand to reach out to the other night table, opening the top drawer. Reaching inside, she pulled out a long box. Opening the box, she unwrapped the dildo she kept cleaned and jellied in there. She was so hot, she was ready to ram the cock-like instrument into her own teeming vagina. But no, no, she had to use it on Pris. She could use it on herself, later. She had to make the girl enjoy all this so much, she would want to come back and try all this without any kind of stimulation.
The dildo had been carefully cleaned so there would be no irritants to inflame vaginal tissue. Then it had been coated with a vaginal jelly and wrapped in a special skin-like cover of fish membrane to keep it sanitary until it was ready for use.
Holding up the large, thick phallus, a spire both longer and thicker than sported between the thighs of any normal male, she felt a sense of power flooding through her own body, knowing she would be jamming it between the thighs of the helplessly writhing girl beneath her. This thrilled and excited her all the more, making the hot sauce in her creaming cunt bubble even faster. Yes, she was more than anxious to hold the cock in her hand and plug it into the helpless girl.
When Joanne finally pulled her middle finger from the seething depths of Pris' pussy, the slender brunette reached behind her in an attempt to catch the hand and shove it back in. But Joanne took the same finger and brought it to her mouth, sniffing it, then sucking on it, licking of fall the tasty fluids she had scooped out of Pris' throbbing cunt. Then she pressed the finger into her own flaming center.
Pris began rubbing her anxious cunt, feeling another orgasm lingering nearby. She didn't want the small, teasing orgasms she'd been experiencing. Now she wanted a huge, overpowering, gut-wrenching climax to tear all the anxiety out of her.
And then she felt herself being rolled over onto her back by warm, gentle hands. She expected someone like Harold Frischeen to be there, ready to ram his long, thick, solid muscle into her. Her mind was spinning, and she could no longer clearly think about what was going on. She shut her eyes in an attempt to ease the spinning sensations in her brain.
"Now!" she screamed. "Fuck me now! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
"Yes, you sweet darling," Joanne whispered. "Now. Here it comes."
Using both hands, Joanne parted Pris' thighs even wider, shoving her knees back until the caps touched her breasts. Even as she pushed, she looked at the perfection of Pris' small breasts, and couldn't resist dipping her head and sucking on a nipple for an instant. This only served to make Pris hotter, and she squealed. She sucked the pink nipple strongly, making it even harder as blood flowed into it, stimulating it. Feeling Pris writhe, she bit into it, and the younger girl shouted her lustful enjoyment of it all. Her own full breasts were slamming into Pris' flat belly as she sucked and chewed on the spongy nipple between her lips, Her teeth clamped down all the harder, and Pris writhed more and more. Her hands reached out and tightly surrounded Joanne's head, pushing while trying to yank her nipple from the overpowering grip of Joanne's lips.
Joanne had to yank hard to tug her head from between the girl's pulling hands. From the way the girl was squirming, she realized she could no longer delay ramming the huge dildo into the girl.
"You promised to fuck me," Pris was gasping. "You promised. Fuck me! Fuck me, now!"
Pris was all but screeching, her body moving as if a raging wild animal were trapped inside-an animal with a mind all its own. Hie heated lips and strong teeth working on her nipples had driven her mad with wanton desire, and now, with her thighs wide apart, her knees up to her chest, she prepared for the inevitable thrust that would eventually bring her that long-sought-for relief. She wanted a big, fat, hard cock rammed all the way up into her tight, creaming snatch. In her dazed mind she believed the woman with her had a penis attached to her. It never occurred to her women couldn't have penises. But the feminine voice of Joanne DeFranco had promised to fuck her, and Pris believed her.
Holding the solid rubber dildo by its end, Joanne pressed the heavy rubber point into the hair-lined gash of the young girl's excitedly throbbing pussy. Pushing it into the soft flesh, she heard Priscilla let her breath out in relief as she felt the mighty dildo probe into her. Though it lacked the warmth of a cock, it was the thickest thing she had ever had pressed into her. It moved deeper and deeper, and her tight, quivering pussy flowered open to gobble it all up, trying to suck it as far in as possible. She moaned and gasped, ramming her tender pussy higher and higher on the rubber penis as Joanne felt it sink deeper and deeper into the young brunette. The older woman was surprised to see the dildo still going in. She, herself, had never been able to take more than three quarters of the length of the rubber hardness, but this sweet, innocent young thing had a deeper well than she.
Still water really runs deep, she thought to herself, smiling.
Little by little she increased the pressure of her thrust.
"UUuuuunnnngggghhhh!" Priscilla gasped, feeling the swollen head of the imagined penis working into her tight pussy. She arched her thighs against the probing rubber prick, anxious to feel that rubbery point butt against her cervix. It was so swollen, so immense, it was far larger than anything Harold Frischeen had shoved into her. But she was so needful of it, she didn't care if the unyielding, artificial cock slashed her cunt in two. The pressure against her helplessly throbbing pussy walls increased with steady pressure. The swollen rubber pressed her in-sides so far out, she felt as if the pain would drive her mad. But then the cervix felt the rubber knob slam into it, and suddenly the pain was all gone, replaced by total, unutterable rapture.
"Uhhh . . . ahhhh . . . ohhhh . . . yesssssss . . . " Pris gasped, feeling the heavy cock being rhythmically stroked in and out of her. Joanne was enjoying herself, seeing she was the one capable of bringing this sweet young thing to satisfaction. She watched as the flat belly of the brunette jerked and spasmed wildly up and down as the flesh seemed to ladder in and out. When she looked at Pris' face, she could see the brunette was in a mad state of ecstatic wonder. The long, black hair whipped wildly about as her head rolled swiftly from side to side. Some of the hair clung to her face, stuck there by her own perspiration. Priscilla's hands were covering her small, hard, swollen breasts, frantically rubbing them up and down, back and forth, pressing her palms into her nipples. Her heels dug into the bed as her thighs stretched out, the cords in them straining as she slammed her straining cunt higher and higher, aching to feel that internal withering blast that would send her to the never-never-land of orgasmic delight.
Joanne stared, unable to believe the strength with which Joanne was reacting. The sight was overpoweringly stimulating, and it made her own body burn that much more with internal heat. At her strongest, she was never able to match this kind of reaction. The girl was unbelievable.
Then she remembered the little electric switch at the end of the dildo. It would start a small vibrator going inside the penis-shaped monstrosity buried in Pris' sucking snatch. She was all set to turn it on, but held back for a moment, pressing her other hand between her own, slick, juicy cuntlips. Her drenched pussy was soaking wet, swamped with heavy lubrication flowing freely from it, and she rammed two fingers into the opened, lubricated passageway.
Pris let out a loud sigh, bucking her body hard to continue swallowing the entire length of the heavy dildo inside her grasping, sucking, mired vagina.
Now, Joanne, thought. Now was the time to turn on the vibrator.
Flicking the switch, she turned on the vibrator, violently ramming her own fingers deeper and deeper into her own fuming pussy.
"Ayyyaaaggghhh . . . almost there . . . " Pris began gasping. "Ohhh Goddddd . . . I cannnnnn feeeeel ittttttt.. . " she shouted, her voice rapt with ecstatic thrills as the hard, artificial cock buried itself repeatedly to the hilt in her belly, suddenly coming violently to life as it vibrated through her tender channel. The head was pressed all the way into her tight, narrow cervical opening, transmitting sensations to every nerve in her delicate body, and it was all she needed to make her peak. Kicking her long, lithe limbs wide apart, she wildly bounced on the bed as the scream came tearing out of her throat.
Joanne was able to see how tightly Priscilla's ass-cheeks began clenching as they remained arched and upraised, her squeezing cuntwalls pressing against the invading dildo as if trying to chew on it. Her orgiastic cuntal fluids poured burningly from around the edges of the madly flailing rubber cock as her belly twitched and jerked with tremendous upheavals of apparently never-ending, all-consuming delight.
Staring at the wild way Priscilla was coming, Joanne regretted having initiated this course of action this quickly. God! She was starved for an orgasm, herself. She saw the hot, literally steaming oil come seeping out of the brunette's tender pussy, flowing out around the hardened dildo as her belly seemed to suck all the way in again and again, trembling and spasming with wild, inundating power. The hot, oily fluid was trickling down
Priscilla's inner thighs, falling onto the bed, running into the arched-up crevice between her ass-cheeks, falling into her tightly chenched asshole. She gasped repeatedly, twitching and writhing in time to the clutching closure of her pussy each time another part of the orgasm struck.
Joanne' tongue was all but hanging out as she stared at the dying thrills slowly seeping out of Pris' palpitating pussy. She turned off the vibrator, not wanting the girl to have too much of the wild sensation. The much could be just as bad as too little.
Pris' arms and legs remained wide apart as she lay there, totally exhausted. And Joanne, content she had done a perfect job, slowly tugged the thick hunk of penis-shaped rubber from the still-clutching cunt. She watched the pink ridges of Pris' inner pussylips cling tightly to the dildo for a moment, completely reluctant to release the member. And when it finally did come out, it made a loud, sucking "pop."
Still holding the lube-saturated dildo, Joanne rose from the bed and stared down at the exhausted, sleeping girl. Yes, she had gone too far, too quickly, for she had wanted to introduce Pris to the sapphic way of love, and all she had succeeded in doing was satisfying the girl in an artificially heterosexual way. She had wanted to show the brunette the pleasures of cunt-lapping, teaching her to do to her own pussy what she should have done to the pink, pink labia of Pris' tight vagina.
Lying down on the bed beside the sleeping Priscilla, Joanne vowed she would do all these things with the pretty brunette, even if it meant transferring her trust account to wherever Priscilla wished. She drew her thighs wide apart until her anxious pussy was totally exposed, then touched the thick head of the rubber dick between her gaping labia, shoved until it was all the way in, then turned on the vibrating switch . . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Priscilla showed up at Sternfeld & Hertz with the signed papers to bring Joanne DeFranco's account into the house, Ed Horner simply gasped.
"You girls are amazing," he said, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like the pair of you. The commissions you've earned entitle each of you to a hundred dollar a week raise, and even with that, it'll take six months to exhaust what you've already earned. You keep up like this, and our trust department will soon rival those of Merrill Lynch."
"We have a lot more names to go," Priscilla assured him.
"Just what have you been doing to get these accounts?" Horner asked.
"You don't really want to know," Pris told him.
"If it's what I think, I'm really sorry I don't have a trust account, so you could go to work on me."
Pris looked at Steffie, who in turn looked back to Pris. Each seemed to be thinking the same thing, but it wasn't until Horner was gone that the two girls spoke about it.
"How about it?" Steffie asked Pris. "Ed's been good to us. He didn't hassle us the first few days we were here. On the contrary, he made things nice and easy for us. I think we should give him a little of ourselves. I mean, he's the kind of guy who would never take advantage of us, always grateful to accept whatever it is we give him."
"Are you saying we should take him on together?" Pris asked.
"Why not?" Steffie shrugged. "I'll bet he's never had two girls at the same time."
"Okay," Pris nodded. "Where?"
"My apartment," Steffie told her, "for supper."
"Do we descend on him en masse?" Pris asked.
"No, I think not," Steffie replied. 'The best thing would be for you to go for a walk after supper while I get him all worked up. You can return while we're screwing our asses off, and you can join us."
"Okay," Pris nodded. "Sounds terrific."
"That was some terrific meal," Ed Horner said, complimenting the two girls.
They were sitting in the eat-in kitchen in Steffie's one and a half room apartment. Horner's wife and children were away for the week, and so he had accepted the invitation of the two girls, little suspecting what they had in mind. After the big meal, he looked more sleepy than ever.
The two girls stacked most of the dishes in the small dishwasher, then served coffee in the living room. It was nearly nine o'clock when Steffie put some soft music on the hi-fi, and Pris said she had to go. When Horner wanted to drive her home, she insisted he remain and keep Steffie company a little while longer.
Steffie saw Pris to the door, letting her out, showing her the door was unlocked. What neither girl saw was the ominous, bulky form of Herman Horowitz. He had been watching both girls, hot to get into either of them, and seeing them take Ed Horner home with them, he had followed them. His ear had been pressed to the door the entire time they'd been eating, and now, as Pris left, he remained hidden by the stairway. He would have loved to jump her, but he didn't have the courage to do it by himself. Tonight he would simply watch and see what was going on. He'd plan his course of action another day.
He saw Pris get into the elevator, and decided to follow her. Ed Horner was a dried up middle-aged man, anyway. What could Steffie do with someone like him?
But back in the apartment, plenty was about to happen. To begin with, Steffie had taken the liberty of lacing Horner's coffee with vodka, and the more he drank, the brighter he seemed to become. When, at one point, Steffie took his cup and set it down on a nearby table, next to her cup, then leaned over and kissed him, he responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He became conscious of his rising cock, and had he been totally sober he might have had second thoughts about what was happening. But for some reason it all seemed perfectly natural to his vodka-fogged brain. So when she stopped kissing him and sat on the sofa beside her, he took the initiative, leaned over, and kissed her. Her lips were hot and burning with desire, welcoming the touch of his mouth as he pressed it to her oral orifice. He could see her bright-brown eyes staring into his, wide open with amazement that he responded so ardently. He could see her eyes, pleading with him not to stop; to continue no matter what the consequences. And though Herman Horowitz might have considered Ed Horner too old to become physically active, Steffie suddenly realized there was one helluva lot of mileage left in her superior. Before Horner realized it, he was kissing her with the verve and strength of a youthful lover.
She seemed to struggle a bit in his arms. After all, she couldn't create the appearance of being an easy female. She had to make Horner believe it was his masculine charms that had convinced her to go through all this. But there was already a flaming, raging fire burning inside her, and she could sense it was enveloping him as well as her.
Horner's tongue stabbed strongly into her mouth, lashing her own tongue and teeth with great authority, and Steffie kissed him all the harder, responding to his very masculine thrusts. God! The man really knew how to kiss and get a girl built up to the right temperature in a hurry.
His hand was weaving through her short, strawberry-blonde hair, and suddenly the lacing fingers took a tight grip and pulled her head back. His cheek pressed itself to hers, and his tongue stabbed into the pink shell of her ear.
"God," he whispered, his heated breath exciting her all the more. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Positive," she replied, totally relaxing in his arms, slumping toward him as if she were a rag doll.
"I've . . . uhhh . . . never been with a girl. . . uhhh . . . since my marriage," he whispered. "I know it.. . uhh . . . sounds corny, but I.. . uhhh . . . might be a little out of practice at this sort of thing."
"That's all right," Steffie assured him. "I can get you right back in the groove. Let's open the sofa."
They got up and pulled out the convertible bed, and he asked again, "Are you sure?"
His voice was husky with desire, and his throbbing cock had swelled to such immensity, it was ready to rip through his pants. Staring at Steffie standing in front of him, a lamp directly behind her outlining her proportions through her yellow mini-dress, he was able to see how delightful her proportions appeared. Was the hair above her cunt as golden as the hair on her head?
"I'm sure," Steffie nodded, and he walked over to her and began undressing her. She let him peel off her mini-dress, allowing him to discover the soft, wonderful body beneath. She was smooth and totally naked under the dress. Her pert breasts were small and full, and stood up so nicely, he hadn't noticed she hadn't had a bra on. Nor had he the opportunity of noting she'd worn no panties, before. The pink and white of her smooth, round, swelling breasts, and the soft, gentle sloping of her hips, added to the light curve of her tender belly, put together with her ripe, firm thighs and smooth calves all succeeded in totally conquering any imagined resistance in him.
"Christ, Steffie," he gasped. "I thought my wife was the last terrific woman I'd ever meet. I never realized there might be more of you. God! You're fantastic."
He hurriedly dropped his own pants, removing his shirt and underwear, kicking off his shoes and tugging off his socks. This all seemed too good to be true, and he didn't want to give her the opportunity of changing her mind, should she so decide.
'Tonight is just for us," she told him. "It's my special way of saying thank you for being so good to Pris and me."
"You really know how to show gratitude," he whispered, gathering her anxious, willing body in his arms so she could feel his rigid cock rubbing into her wet, seething pussy.
He swept her thighs out from under her so she couldn't stand, and lowered her to the bed. It smelled of her perfume-scented body. She noted his nostrils quivering, inhaling, enjoying the full scent of her. God! He was much more manly than Paul Fink. Even though he looked older, he was more rugged and apparently more virile. Though Fink had taught her to use her mouth, she hadn't actually surrendered her own virginity to any man. All the accounts she had brought over to Sternfeld & Hertz had been without having to use her womanly persuasions. Now was the right time to lose that unwanted virginity. She wasn't worried about her hymen. It had broken many years earlier when she'd been playing basketball at an all-girl's camp. So she knew the pain she would feel would be minimal when she finally felt his long, thick, throbbing hardness ram into her. Remembering the size of Paul Fink's cock, she was able to see Horner's prick was just the littlest bit longer and thicker. Good! He would fill her up that much more substantially. She wanted to get to know him as intimately as possible. She liked him. He was one of the few decent human beings she had ever known.
Lying on the sofa-bed, with only the light of two lamps on, she watched Ed Horner's thick, manly body close in on hers. Her eyes remained glued to his bloated prick. God! The poor man's wife must have the Holland Tunnel between her thighs to hold that thing. Oh God! She wanted it inside her.
Touch it! She had to touch the mighty probing prick. She felt as if her body would not be happy until her fingers had carefully examined every inch of the heavy flesh probe. God! She had never before had the urge to really touch a man's cock. Paul Fink had almost killed certain sensations inside her. She was overjoyed to be with Ed Horner tonight. He had made her feel more feminine than she had in a long, long time. She reached out and closed her long, slender fingers around the branding iron of his throbbing prick. Yes, that was precisely what it was; a branding iron. And she wanted to feel it leave its burning brand inside her body forever and ever.
Holding tightly to it, she pulled herself up until she was sitting upright on the bed. Horner just stood there, watching the young girl, waiting to see how far she'd go without his bidding her to do anything. Her fingers were tightly clutching his steel-solid cock as if it were made of platinum, and her shining eyes stared at the heavy, swollen purple point glistening with the colorless ointment seeping from the slit in its otherwise perfect, helmet-shaped head.
"It's . . . all right, isn't it?" he asked, feeling self-conscious at the way she was staring at his throbbing cock.
"It's more than all right," she whispered. "It's so beautiful.. . so huge, so wonderfully immense . . . so . . . fantastic!! ! "
Softly, slowly, carefully, almost as if she were mothering it, Steffie began slowly stroking Horner's throbbing horn. She softly pulled on the thick, hairy base, tugging down so the pulsating purple head would expand all the more, glistening a brilliant magenta in the soft light of the room.
The immensity had become too much for Steffie, and she pulled it closer as she tugged on it, remembering what Paul Fink had taught her with his own cock. But this cock she wanted. She wanted to taste it, to fill her mouth with it, to suck its soft, tender skin surrounding his hard, rigid muscle. She wanted to drink the heavy white semen she knew was hiding i n his balls. And she wanted to taste it all before Priscilla returned.
A masculine aroma wafted into her nostrils as she stared at the shuddering head less than an inch from her nervous lips. Tiny, musky drops of colorless fluid continued seeping from the narrow hole in his throbbing glans, lying like smooth, valuable pearls on his shivering tip. It was almost too much for her to bear. Her small, pink tongue eeled slowly from between her coral lips. It moved forward ever so slowly, and then with the speed of a striking rattlesnake, it licked the drops off his cock and retreated to the safety of her oral cavern. She smacked her lips together, enjoying the creamy fluidic balm.
Horner, seeing her tongue retreat, pushed his hips forward, pressing his throbbing cock against her soft lips. He was surprised to feel her lips oval apart and suck on his head, compressing tightly around his corona while her tongue lapped at the tender point.
Steffie, tightening her lips around the pungent tip, felt the wonderful taste seep through her entire body, into her pores, into her nerves, into her very bloodstream. And feeling the wonderful thickness press back against her surrounding lips, she knew damn well she was going to try to suck this cock to completion. She wanted to. She wanted to because she enjoyed it in her mouth. When Paul Fink had suggested she do this same thing not too long ago, she had been horrified and disgusted. But here, now, with Ed Horner it seemed only right and natural that she suck his throbbing cock.
Her tongue leaped from its resting place at the bottom of her mouth and began circling his throbbing head. It moved in wild spirals, made the penial monster twitch again and again.
"Whoooooof!" Horner sighed, and suddenly realized he had been holding his breath all this time. "Yes, yes, yes . . . " he urged. "More . . . don't stop now . . . more . . . do it, do it.. . ahhhhh . .
Opening her mouth all the wider, coming up on her knees, giving herself better access to the hot, throbbing, twitching phallic wonder, she had him slide it into the hot, wet cave of her tantalizing, sucking mouth as she reached around, grabbed his hairy ass-cheeks, and pulled him closer.
Horner thought his scalp would literally lift off in a violent explosion. He had never realized something so wonderful could happen to him. And this was only Monday night, the beginning of the week. He wondered what other marvelous miracles awaited him. God! To be here, in this apartment, and this sweet, beautiful blonde . . . sucking his throbbing cock . . . acting like a slave to him . . . doing things to please him . . . his cannon-shaped cock slowly burying its muzzle deeper and deeper into her clasping oral cavern, feeling the silken creaminess of her tongue as it played wildly along the underside of his palpitating prick. Now the writhing tongue was wrapping itself, snake-like, around his pulsing shaft, coiling around the steel of his solid muscle as her mouth opened wider, as if her teeth would scissor his throbbing cock from the rest of his aching body. But then the edges of her teeth surrounded the wide girth of his throbbing cock in a thrilling conglomeration of scraping pleasure and thrilling pain.
Steffie nearly choked as she felt Horner's broad, swollen cock press its pulsing head against the soft, pulpy ring of her esophagus. Somehow she managed to choke back the feeling of being strangled, her nostrils quivering and widening as she pulled air into her nose and down into her lungs. Her gullet seemed to stretch as she relaxed it, broadening so his rubbery phallic tip could fit into her throat. Straining forward, she drooled all over the wet, pumping cock as if she had sucked this brazenly all her life. Then, acting even more forward, she reached between his thighs as he stood there and used her hand to gather in his heavy, dangling balls, manipulating them in their soft-skinned, wrinkled, hair-covered sac as if the eggs inside were made of fragile crystal. The lightning-like thrills shooting through Horner's aching body nearly caused him to stumble and fall on top of the blonde so anxious to prove how good she could be.
Her fingers continued massaging the soft, yielding flesh of his dangling scrotum while her other hand had a firm grip around the base of his cock, jacking and tugging as if she hoped to wrench the organ from his shuddering body. Now her lips were sliding up and down most of its length, sucking strongly, pulling it into her anxious throat, then sliding it out until only its onion-shaped tip remained behind her teeth. Her satin interior closed more and more tightly around the pulsating prod, and soon Ed Horner was all but screamingas a long, wailing moan came sirening out of his mouth. His throbbing cock hurt, and his swollen testicles hurt even more. God! The phallic wand felt as if it had grown at least two more inches in the last few moments. Every last little bit of it was a sensuous, throbbing mass of tangled nerves, and every nerve seemed to demand instant satisfaction.
"Steffie.. . " he gasped. "Ohhhhh Steffie . . . suck . . . suck . . . suck the old cock good and hardd. . . "
As if answering his lascivious reply, Steffie painted the bottom of his throbbing cock with her wicked tongue, tasting his rich, pungent masculinity, using the point of her tongue to probe through the graying hairs at the base, and coating the heavy bloated sacs of his wrinkled balls with more and more saliva.
Where she had almost upchucked with Paul Fink, the sensation of being with Ed Horner only honed her sense of taste, and she wanted more and more of him. She wanted to swallow whatever he had to offer, loving the thick feeling of it as it danced on her tongue, against her palate, and into her throat. Sucking on this wonderful penis was more marvelous than anything she had ever before imagined. She continued manipulating him, squeezing his balls, ringing the base of his heavy cock with her fingers and rubbing it, squeezing and jerking and pinching and lapping the mighty cane of flesh slammed as far as she could take it into her mouth and throat. Her hand around his throbbing cock was such a marvelous caress, he knew she would soon be milking him of all his aching sperm. Her other hand continued rubbing his sperm-swollen balls, and this made his writhing hips gyrate at a fantastic pace. He pumped his solid cock ever deeper into her anxious throat.
Horner felt his lustful whang swell even more inside the blonde girl's hot, lustful oral cavern. He could feel his hard, rubber-like glans rubbing against the narrow entrance to her pharynx, and he watched as she anxiously seemed to swallow his flesh, gulping it into her throat. Horner gasped and sighed in cadence to the way she rhythmically sucked his hard cock. He watched her beautiful face laboring against his loins, hot and sweaty, red with exertion. But he soon even became oblivious to that, feeling only the blinding flurries of fire-laden passion building higher and higher in his throbbing balls. He groaned again and again as his pelvis bucked maddeningly against her obscenely stretched mouth working to bring him to the completion she felt he so richly deserved.
"Ohhhhh Goddddd . . . " Horner gasped. "Oh God-dddd! I can feel, it building inside me. Oh Christ! I can feel it. But it won't come out. for the love of God it won't come out."
He began to scream and rant and rave, almost as if it were the girl's fault, and he slammed his throbbing, thick, heavy meat even deeper, ramming it through the ring of her sucking gullet, into the depths of her tight throat.
I lis hands, gripping her hair, were now ramming her mouth back and forth over the throbbing cock. But as tight as her lips gripped it, Steffie found his hard prick unable to yield up the contents of his aching balls.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Priscilla had taken a long, long walk along the nearby bay. It had been a clear night, and she had walked slowly, seeing couples sitting on benches under the nearby trees, clutching one another, kissing. Once, she would have envied them. But not now. Not at all. No, she didn't need a boy friend to kiss her and touch her and get her all heated up, then not do anything more for fear of corrupting her. No, when she finally married her man, whoever he might be, he would have fucked her innumerable times, and the last time would be better than each time before.
She didn't notice the white-haired hulk of Herman Horowitz stalking behind her. Not that there was anything Herman could have done, even if he'd had enough courage. There were too many people and too many police booths stationed along the bay. But he was curious why she wasn't going home. God! How he would love getting his hands on that trim body of hers.
When she had come over from Jacobson & Co., he had called his buddy, Paul Fink, to find out what Paul knew about her. Fink had referred to her as an ungrateful tramp who had walked out on him after he had taught her all he'd known about handling trust accounts. What she needed, according to Fink, was a good gangbanging to straighten her out.
Now, as he watched Priscilla turn around and head back the way she had come, Horowitz decided Paul Fink definitely had a good idea. Only it would be a two-man gangbang. Fink and himself.
Standing in the shade of a nearby tree, he watched as she strolled right by him, not even noticing him. What was she thinking?
Priscilla smiled to herself. This was the time to go back. This was the time to walk into Steffie's apartment and see if Steffie had succeeded with Ed Horner. If she didn't, Pris could always claim to have forgotten her purse. She had purposely left it behind. But even if Steffie had succeeded, Pris would have to be careful how she became involved with them. She didn't want Horner feeling shy or embarrassed.
Reaching the building, she rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, unaware Herman Horowitz was already heading for the stairs. Confused, Herman had to know what was going on.
Reaching Steffie's apartment, Pris opened the door and quietly walked into the dark, small foyer. Shutting the door quietly, she began removing her clothes. All she had on was a lacy bra and skimpy panties as she listened to what was happening in the main room, around the corner.
There were loud slurping sounds, and it was Steffie's voice she heard gasping and groaning. Odd! It sounded as if Horner was doing a job on Steffie rather than Steffie doing it to Horner. Peering around the corner, she saw Steffie straddling Horner's face as he lay on the open bed. She was smearing her pussy hair across his face as if it were a paintbrush, a golden paintbrush covered with the colorless paint of her vaginal ooze. It was brushing across Horner's face again and again, and his lapping tongue stabbed into the seething depths of her burning vagina, trying to dredge out more of the viscous ointment so he could swallow it more readily. His face was smeared with the thick juice, making his nose, cheeks, and chin shine whenever the pink lips of Steffie's dripping cunt slid out of the way for a brief second.
"No," Horner was saying to Steffie. "This isn't good, either."
"But it is, it is," Steffie was trying to assure him, feeling fiery flames course through her bloodstream. This was the first time any man had ever sucked her cunt, and she was enjoying it.
"I want to fuck you," Horner was saying. "I want you to sit on my cock and ride your body all the way down on it. Okay?"
"Anything," Steffie agreed, sliding her body lower, then raising her virgin crotch until her coral gash with the golden beard hovered directly over the thick, upstanding prick.
"Now!" Horner insisted. "Now! Do it quickly."
Steffie reached down, gripped the throbbing pike, then held it firmly in her fist as she guided her teeming twat onto it. This would be the first time anything had penetrated her seething, aching vagina. She would let Horner know he had been the first, later. Now, all she could feel was the thick, bulbous minaret of his cock-dome, pressing the walls of her tight cunny farther and farther apart. At first she began sitting slowly, feeling the seething glans work its thick way into her steaming pussy. First her outer labia parted, then her scalloped inner lips opened up. They seemed to open grudgingly, and Steffie gasped as she felt the wedging head force her tight entryway wider and wider, slowly but surely slipping up into her squeezing grotto.
"Uunngghh!" she gasped. "Ohhhh Goddd! It's so thick. I'll never be able to take all of it. Never!"
"You will, you will," Horner urged. "Keep sliding down. Don't stop, not for anything."
Steffie felt sweat break out all over her in huge drops, and the drops began running down her face, throat and body. God! She'd had no idea it could still hurt even if she was without a hymen. Oh God!
Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself a bit lower, feeling the thick dork press past her inner labia, sinking into the seething, squirming depths of her tight tunnel. Floods of heavy oil came rushing down to bathe the pressing penis, lubricating her inner walls, making it easier for the massive monster to slide ever deeper into her. Her knees dug into the bed until the covers felt as if they were burning her kneecaps.
"Godd!" she gasped. "I can't do it. I can't do it!"
Horner grasped her shoulders and pressed down on them, pushing hard, hard, hard, and she felt her tight inner cathedral of cunt slowly open and surrender to the inprobing, knife-like cock. Down, down, down, her trembling, slender, lush body moved very slowly, shivering, quivering and quaking all the way.
To Horner, the very tightness of her wet, sucking morass was a miracle in itself. He'd never thought to feel anything this exquisite again. Not that his wife wasn't wonderful. But her channel had adapted to his width and didn't cling to it quite as powerfully. He could hear the squeaky tightness of her slurping vagina as her body slid lower and lower and lower.
And then, all of a sudden, she felt the gold matting on her pelvis mingle with the gray curls on his pubis. She was all the way down. His cockhead was pressing into her cervix. The thickness filled her interior to what felt like overflowing, making her narrow, tight walls stretch and bulge to accommodate its great breadth. Steffie simply sat there for the moment, feeling impaled up to her eyeballs. God! It skewered through her heart, her lungs, her vital organs. She was trembling, and Ed Horner was running his hands over the sensitive tips of her breasts, whispering soft words of comfort to her, reassuring her everything was all right.
Little by little the feeling of fullness turned into one of clogged contentment. Tingles touched every little space along her inner vaginal grooves, and she shuddered with exciting inner electricity. Soon she found it impossible to simply sit there. She had to move, to create friction within her, to enhance the already burning fires, building them to great pyres, enlarging them so they would eventually bring her to the kind of satisfaction she had seen Paul Fink enjoy the day he had shot his sticky sperm down her throat. He had gone into maddening convulsions at the time, and Steffie had envied him, being able to feel anything so intensely. Now, with this thick prick stuck all the way up into her teeming pussy, she wanted to feel the same kind of intense sensations.
Slowly, very slowly, she began to rise, feeling the knobby head of his swollen dork slide from her cervix back into her sopping vaginal orifice, and then move slowly back until she felt the rim of the corona catch behind her shell-shaped pussylips. Then, just as slowly, she reversed herself, and little by little sat back down, feeling the massive truncheon of muscle re-enter her feminine chamber, flooding her drenched inner cunt with its thick meat. When her ass-cheeks touched his groin, she immediately reversed direction. Up, then down, up, then down, again and again and again and again. Now she was aware of only one thing; the hard, ramming, wonderful cock fitting into her seething depths.
Priscilla stood there, awed, watching the wild way Steffie rode on top of Horner's throbbing cock, fucking him with a maddening, intensifying fury, riding faster with each pumping motion. The blonde was riding up and down, moving faster and faster, slapping her ass-cheeks against his thighs with louder and louder noises. Horner was right there with her, matching her hump for hump, allowing his tremendously broad shaft to lunge farther and farther up into the young blonde's sucking pussy, the lust-hardened staff continually stretching the girl's soft, pliable vaginal folds, ramming into her soft, hair-lined twat with a fervor born of the knowledge this was the first time he had cheated on his wife since getting married. His anxious eyes never left the blonde girl's licentiously twisted face. He was fascinated by the way her short, fluffy strawberry-blonde hair tossed wildly about her head in all directions at once. The hair flounced up and down with each frenzied, twisting gyration she performed. She continued slapping the tender, beaten surface of her round rectal cheeks against the hairy thighs beneath as he arched his own fulcrum up to meet hers, thrilling to her passion-fomented attack. The room was echoing and reechoing with the sounds of their insane lovemaking, and Horner found he was reaching the innermost center of the girl's suctioning cunt, plowing deeper and deeper, widening her cervix as if expecting to fit the full length of his throbbing penis in there, next. The suction inside was unbelievable, drawing him higher and higher, deeper and deeper.
Horner was almost insane with lustful pleasure, feeling the satin-smooth scabbard of her grasping vagina swallowing his bloated instrument again and again as he spiked it far up into her coral tenderness with all the strength in his body. His hands, which had been cupped over her firm breasts, now reached down to grab her waist, thrilling to the narrowness of it. His wife's waist hadn't been this narrow in more than ten years. Almost out of his spinning mind with passionate rapture, thrilling at the idea of fucking into someone only months older than his oldest daughter, and feeling her respond so anxiously and lovingly, he hoped it would all never end. Respond? She was doing more than merely responding. She was taking the initiative. She was wonderful. His teeth were tightly clenched as he allowed the wonder of all that was happening sift through his nervous system. His balls were still tightly pressed into his groin, and his stiff, aching cock was dying to release the heavy fluid contained in his testicles. He hadn't been able to come in her mouth, for some unknown psychological he would never learn, and so far, even though he'd felt like coming at least a half dozen times inside her tight pussy, he hadn't been able to do that, either. God! It wasn't as if he were impotent, or anything like that. If that were the case, he'd never have been able to raise a hard-on in the first place. He felt no guilt about cheating on his wife. He'd been aching to do that for years; not because he didn't love her, but because he knew he was getting older and one day the urge inside him would stop, and before it did, he felt as if he was entitled to at least one fling with someone beautiful and young. Thank God Steffie had come along. nnnnnhhh . . . " she gasped. "Oh God . . . God.. . God . . . s-o-o-o-o goooood . . . fuckiiinnnggg.. . s-o-o-o-o-o gooooood . . . fuck me . . . fuck me . . . fuck me . . . fuck me . . . keep on fuckingggg . . . "
Horner clutched her waist more tightly when she slammed down, and with his thick roll of meat buried to the hilt in her steaming vagina, he did a hundred and eighty degree roll to his right. Suddenly, with his throbbing cock still fully buried in the blonde girl, he found he was the one on top, and she was on the bottom. Two squashed pillows were under her, and he plowed hard into her, squashing them even more. Her long, slender, shapely legs wound around his body, and he noticed that even with rolling over, and with his taking over the stroking duties, they hadn't missed a single plunge. Her hungering, burning cunt welcomed his thrusting cock in even more now. He pounded violently into her, for he was the lord of the situation, feeling her warm, furry vaginal lips suck him ever deeper, his strongly pistoning penis slamming into her widely gaping cunt and nailing her tender ass to the mattress at the same time, banging into her with such force, the mattress began to squeak its protest.
"Good God!" Priscilla gasped out loud, walking into the room, completely envious of what was happening.
Although what she said was heard by both Horner and Steffie, each was so lost in the attempt at reaching satisfaction, neither cared, turbulently pounding into one another, trying to peak. Horner was dying to come. The pain in his balls was becoming overpoweringly intense. If he didn't shoot soon, his balls would simply burst.
Steffie's naked, upturned cunt starvingly lusted to taste the seething sperm Horner's balls refused to surrender. But she felt the wild sensations building in her own body, and she suddenly realized she was about to experience her first really good orgasm. She was going to come, come, come . . .
"AYYYYAAAAGGGGHHHH!" she bellowed, and the climax was a mind-shattering delight of wondering sensations, spilling through the nerve-endings of her tender young body. The thrusting spoke of cock seemed to lift her higher and higher with each pummeling thrust until all she could see was a series of ne verending, spinning colored lights.
Pris was coming closer to them, almost angry that Steffie had gone this far without waiting for her. Clad only in her frilly bra and panties, she flung herself at the pair of them, one arm draping itself over Horner's broad back, and the other arm sliding under Steffie's shoulders in an attempt to become one with them.
Horner, who had been all but lying on Steffie, sat up, his cock still plugged into her writhing body. Heavy sweat covered his face, and he was gasping, even if he had not been satisfied. He stared at Pris, not able to understand what she was doing there. Even more confusing was her being there in bra and panties. But at this point he didn't much care. His rocks needed relief.
Horner reached out, grabbing her, his arm moving with the speed of a coiled python. His fingers were gripping her bare arm, tugging her flesh so hard she cried out as he brought her down on the bed.
"What!! ! " Steffie gasped, still in the throes of her orgasm as Pris' body fell across hers.
"I don't know what you're doing back here," Horner gasped, "or why you're almost as naked as we are, but since you've come back and you've seen what we're doing, you might just as well become part of it."
"Yes," Pris gasped, lying across Steffie's body, looking up at him, "make me part of it."
The brunette was visibly shaken as he leaned down and kissed her ripe mouth while his hands slid beneath her and continued to rub Steffie's round tits. His throbbing cock continued thrusting in and out of her squeezing pussy. His motion made Steffie, even with Pris' weight, buck again and again, and Pris was surprised to see Steffie was still aroused. After an orgasm of the magnitude she had recently attained, she should normally be tired and wanting to relax. The squirming movements of the blonde beneath her made Pris realize she was jealous of Steffie. Letting her kiss with Horner finish, Pris slid off the blonde girl and watched as Horner began kissing her. It was a tender, albeit almost pervertedly obscene exchange between middle-aged man and nineteen-year-old girl. True, the idea to seduce Horner had been Steffie's, but why had she bothered having Pris over if she'd wanted Horner for herself? This whole thing had degenerated into something crazy. What the hell was going to happen now?
Pris lay there silently, unmoving, wondering if they'd completely forget about her if she didn't thrash about. If they did, she would slip away, get dressed, and leave as quietly as possible. She had no reason to condemn Steffie and Ed Horner. What was happening between them was really a normal, natural health thing. She had no right to be envious. From what Steffie had told her earlier, this was her first fucking experience, whereas she, Pris, had been fucked, had sucked, and had even had what amounted to a Lesbianic experience. Maybe it would be better if she left the two of them alone.
But Ed Horner hadn't forgotten Pris, not by a long shot. He had been kissing Steffie with heavy pressure, still keeping his thrusting cock buried to the hilt in her clutching vagina. But now he removed his mouth from Steffie's and pulled Pris back to him, kissing her with as much energy. Pris wanted to protest, but she felt a funny kind of static passing between her mouth and that of Ed Horner. She didn't know why, but she felt fantastically aroused . . . even more so than she had when she'd first walked in. Her entire body began responding as she kissed back with a wicked violence and his mouth stabbed relentlessly at hers. She felt his hands roaming over her body, pressing her small, firm breasts under her bra, and her body writhed even more, enjoying the touch of him. He might have been in his fifties, but he made love like a boy in his teens. The gentle, swirling of his tongue in her mouth got her more and more aroused, and her lips opened wider and wider so she could suck in more of the oral digit.
Steffie, still wriggling on the bed in the throes of her own orgasm, suddenly felt a great emptiness, and realized Horner had tugged his mighty spear from inside her yearning feminine cavern. Turning, she saw him pressing his body against Pris, and realized he was hoping he might be able to come off inside the brunette.
Pris could feel him pressing against her, squeezing out all desire on her part to leave the two alone. His arm hurt where he was still gripping her, and her lips were raw from the way he was kissing her. He crushed young breasts were pressured almost to the point of pain. She was positive he would start breaking her bones at any moment. Beside her, on the bed, she could hear the heavy gasping breath of her blonde friend, and when she peered from the corner of her eye, she could see one of Horner's hands was mashed against Steffie's tender breasts.
Then she felt the marble-hard pulsating of his enormous prick, pushing against her, trying to rub between her thighs. She could feel the moisture from its elastic point seeping through the thin material of her panties. Her blood boiled all the more as her brain began to dizzyingly spin.
He '.s going to fuck me, she thought, becoming more and more excited. He still has his erection and he's going to fuck me right here, lying next to Steffie. Oh God!! ! Yes, yes, yes, I want his cock inside me. I can take it, and I can enjoy it!
Everything seemed so wonderfully confusing. She knew it was about to happen, and the fact that his cock had been buried in Steffie mere seconds before made her want it all the more.
Suddenly, she felt his fingers curl into the tight elastic of her panty waistband, and he was pulling, tugging, tearing, wrenching the flimsy cloth from her white, tender body. All that was visible was the curling black mound as she clamped her thighs together, but he forced her loins apart and began rubbing the bulbous point of his shuddering cock against the ebony-black curls. Her pink, heated cuntlips parted and more seeping fluid came out, moistening the way for his throbbing prick as it rubbed up and down between her peach-like labial slices, massaging her tender clitoris.
And at the front door, Herman Horowitz, who had silently entered the apartment, peered around the corner and saw what was going on. His throbbing cock was unable to take the pressure, and suddenly he started shooting in his pants. Hot gushes of white goo splattered all over the inside of his underwear, staining his pants, running down his thighs.
God! He had to get out of there. But from what he'd seen, both girls were ripe for a lot of fucking. With Paul Fink, he would be able to ball the pair of them again and again. And he was certain Fink would be more than happy to get even by pronging the pair of them for leaving Jacobson & Co.
With his hands clutching his sopping groin, Horowitz turned and silently stole out of the apartment. Now that he knew where Steffie lived, he and Paul Fink would return one day soon, when both girls were there, and they'd fuck the ass off the two of them.
"Unnnngggghhhh!" Priscilla gasped, no longer thinking about anything other than getting a good, solid fuck.
Wild pleasure was rippling through her sensitive, youthful body, held helplessly captive by the rubbing of his prick against her throbbing clitoris. It was all so obscenely wonderful, so delightfully perverse. The hard, by now familiar, pressure of a cock-head against her oversized clitoris reminded her she had come here to be fucked by this man, and she wanted him. She wanted him all the more, knowing his hard cock had been soaking in the morass of another woman's vagina. Her nipples ached to be rubbed by his palms as she longed to be free of the restraining bra. His tongue swathing through her tender mouth was driving her wildly insane, and she didn't care whether or not Steffie was watching. She sensed that a month earlier she would have cared one helluva lot. But she had grown up considerably in this past month. Right now, all that really mattered was the almost masochistic urge to be manhandled in front of Steffie. She could feel the hotly pulsing penis throbbing against the tender pink folds of her outer pussylips. Her sensitive feminine flesh rippled a bit under the pressure of his continually advancing prick, and little by little the tiny orifice began to widen and accept the blood-swollen glans moving between the silken softness.
"Ayyaanngghh!" she gasped, turning her head to the side as Horner's sure hand guided his burning, pulsating prong in among her dark, curly hairs, pushing downward and into the hole between her softly spreading vaginal labia. He was breathing somewhat unevenly, himself, and Pris feared he might be about to suffer a coronary, but all the time he kept on thrusting, pushing the long, thick, heavy, weighty cock into her steaming depths. Deeper, deeper, deeper, the sliding cock moved, and Horner suddenly realized he was almost all the way into her.
Balanced above the lovely brunette, Ed Horner suddenly understood what he was doing. Two women. Two lush, lovely females, neither quite out of her teens, had both wrapped their cunts around his throbbing penis. And he was actually fucking them both. Right now his swollen dork was ramming itself into the tender depths of Priscilla's squeezing cunt, which, though it had been used before, still felt tighter than Steffie's formerly virginal interior. The soft, midnight fleece of her curling hairs on her vagina seemed to part all the more as her pink interior reluctantly opened to let him in. Little by little the tight, grasping cunt was eating up his entire cock. Yes, the entire thick length of his powerful, steaming cock was moving into her. He was sunk to the balls in the boiling volcano of her simmering snatch.
Beside him, Steffie, a beautiful, stunning blonde, lay writhing from the powerful climax he had induced. Yes, these were girls in their late teens, but they were grown women. And Steffie was already trying to push fingers into her steaming slot, aching for more satisfaction. Well then, since they had been so good to him, it was up to Horner to make sure all the girls got what they wanted. Even as he stuffed the last little bit of his cock-sausage into the slimy cauldron of Priscilla's frothing snatch, he reached over and buried the middle finger of his right hand all the way into Steffie's sucking swamp. His finger thrust in and out, moving wildly into the pink furrow surrounded by golden tendrils, feeling the wet hairs tickling the palm of his hand as he tantalized the inner pinkness and sucking interior crevices of her bare, nakedly offered vagina.
Horner felt overly proud of himself, realizing he had managed to bring about such a degree of lascivity in these two exciting females, both were willing to share him in order to be made love to by him. He plunged his huge, swollen dork in and out of Pris' tight, vaginal interior, feeling how her cuntal walls sucked loudly on his throbbing, thrusting cock. Her smooth, wide, straining thighs were widening, opening all the more, sucking more voraciously at his broad phallus, getting wetter and more slippery with each passing moment, while his middle finger sank into the now-passively moaning body of the rapturously lovely blonde.
"Annhh . . . annhh . . . annhh . . . " Steffie gasped beside him as his finger continued wildly fucking into the heated depths of her burning nest, creating loud, slurping noises each time his finger pushed either in or out. At the same time, he matched the thrust of his finger by stabbing his thick cock into the seething depths of the soft, spongy, clutching cunt of the beautifully dark-haired Priscilla. The thrusting increased the erotic torment in Pris, and she wanted more, humping her eager, youthful body up to receive what he had for her. Each time he sank his massive salami all the way into her she rotated her loins licentiously up to his hard thrusts, fucking back with a wild, savage passion.
"Oh God!" Horner gasped. "I never dreamed I would be enjoying myself like this. This whole dream is out of this world!"
The two females were completely oblivious to his outcries. They lay on the sofa-bed, feverishly writhing, each in a different world of mindless thrills.
With Priscilla next to her on the bed, Steffie suddenly felt safer and more relaxed. Even so, her dripping snatch continued wildly responding to the thrusts of Horner's middle finger as it moved in and out of her with rapid thrusts. When he added his forefinger to the middle finger, she humped her body higher and higher, receiving his probing thrusts and rotating wildly on the two fingers. Her desire-filled pussy worked madly against the plunging fingers, and then became even more aroused when he added a third finger. It was unbelievably wonderful for her to feel the pressure of such excruciating delight. It was so good it almost hurt. The unrelenting thrust of his powerful fingers in her sucking swamp of pussy made her hot all over again, totally wiping out the feelings of the previous orgasm. All she knew now was, she wanted more and more and more.
Hearing Pris sigh on the bed beside her, she felt a stronger bond than ever with the young brunette, and her hand reached out to where Pris' hand clung to Horner's back. She grasped the hand, holding it tightly in her own, feeling the way her blistering cunt, like a car radiator, was overheating. She was going to come again because of the mad, insane actions of her superior's fingers. Horner's hand moved in and out with greater rapidity now, the sucking juices of her clinging vagina making the friction that much less. The fingers moved faster and faster and faster, building a tiny tickle deep in her shuddering cunt, and making the tickle enlarge with unbelievable rapidity until everything in her body seemed to wildly erupt, like lava from a volcano. The lava within her came spewing out so wildly, she thought it would back up into her throat and keep her from shouting. The thrilling sensations were there, immediate and real, burning inside her naked bosom as it sharply heaved up and down while her arching back came rising off the bed. Her hand squeezed that of Pris all the more tightly as the dark-haired woman responded by squeezing back and keening her own body up and down in response to the heavy cock being thrust in and out of her.
"AYYYAAAGGGHHHAAAGGGHHH!" Steffie screamed, reaching her second peak of the night, almost strangling on her own climactic outcry as the wracking climax tore through her body and the wet, frigging fingers in her pussy moved more insanely, enhancing everything for her. The fingers seemed to bite into the hot, tight orifice of her blonde pussy.
Pris' fingers tightened around those of Steffie, and Ed Horner's thrusting cock seemed to swell even more, becoming impossibly thick inside the young brunette's seething nookie. The delightful softness of her nudely wriggling torso under Horner's plunging body, added to the obvious peak in Steffie's sucking pussy made him swell with lust, and he thought his entire licentiously driven self, and not just his painful balls, would explode if he somehow or other didn't come soon. He worked his hard, thrusting cock all the way into her steaming pussy, feeling how she was straining to stretch her thighs that much more widely, making her helplessly skewered cunt a place designated solely for the burial of his cock, and nothing else. His hands manipulated wildly, one of them now withdrawn from Steffie's seething cunt, all sodden and soaked with her juices. He got Pris' nipple all wet with Steffie's lubricant, and still continued rubbing the girl's thick, pink nipples, making them swell and almost glow a kind of red. He leaned over and sucked the left nipple, tasting Steffie's secretions against the thickness of her tender flesh, wanting to bite into the succulent pink fruit they seemed to resemble.
Christ! he thought. This had to be the ultimate. Two females, one blonde, one brunette. Both were clamoring for more and more of him, and now, even though his balls hurt like hell, he was overjoyed at not having come.
Priscilla's heels were kicking wildly against his ass-cheeks as she flexed her long legs back against her sensually delighted self, thereby enabling her to offer more of her thrusting, pliant cunt to his madly plunging poker. She was going to come. God! This was the fastest orgasm she'd ever had with a real cock. Ohhhhh, Godddd! She could feel her body heaving up and down and moving around violently as the pile-driving prick rammed into her again and again, while his mouth continued to suck and slurp her nipples, chewing on the over-sensitive flesh.
"EEEYYYAAAIIIAAAGGGHHHHH!" she squealed, gasping and humping wildly in the throes of maddening torment. Her body wildly bounced up and down, up and down, up and down.
Ripping his solid member from Pris' straining pussy, he sank it back into Steffie and proceeded to pump and pump and pump until the muscles in his thighs began weakening. Then the girls flipped him over on his back, and while Steffie once again mounted his throbbing cock, Pris sat on his face as she had seen Steffie do earlier, giving Horner a chance to taste her succulence and compare it to that of the blonde he was now fucking, or who was fucking him.
Horner felt the black-haired pinkness descend on his face, and his mouth automatically opened so he could drink the nectar dripping from her seething snatch. His tongue licked into the steaming depths of her sodden honey-pot and a lake of fluid came pouring out all over his face, drenching him. He wondered if he would drown. If so, he could think of no more pleasant way to die.
One thought continued recurring to him. This was only Monday. What did the other days hold in store for him? This was all so unbelievable. If he told it to anyone, they'd laugh it off as a fantasy on his part. Poor fools. If only they knew.
Now he could feel the semen in his balls starting to spin and churn. This time there was no two ways about it. He was going to come. His body straightened out and stiffened, and his tongue lanced all the way up into Pris' foaming pussy. She was sitting on his face facing Steffie, and watching the way his body hardened, she told Steffie, "He's going to shoot."
At the last second, Steffie jumped up then came down, enveloping his full length of throbbing cock with her mouth.
"YYYEEEAAARRRGGGHHHHH!" Horner screamed as he fired the first heavy load, blasting it into the girl's sucking throat. He fired again and again, filling Steffie's mouth to overflowing with his cream. And then he blacked out.
CHAPTER NINE
The following morning, Tuesday, Ed Horner, with circles under his eyes, was back at his job as head of the trust department at Sternfeld & Hertz. Although the two girls behaved no differently toward him when others were around, when they were alone with him, they smiled broad, suggestive smiles. And Horner could only grin back.
That previous night had been the most fantastic night he'd ever experienced. No wonder these girls were cleaning up when it came to bringing in new accounts. There wasn't a man in the world able to resist the two of them. They were astounding. He had no doubt, if one failed to appeal to a man, the other would take over. And if neither, alone, appealed to a man, they would be able to work on him together. And any man able to resist the pair of them had to be feebleminded or impotent.
Within the next month, the two girls continued to pull accounts away from the trust department of Jacobson & Co., enlarging their own accounts to where they were each drawing five hundred dollars a week, with a three-year backlog . . . provided no more changes were made in the present accounts and no new accounts were added. But Ed Horner knew better. They would go on adding accounts, and making necessary changes in the trust accounts they had charge of, making themselves so valuable to the firm that they would one day be offered small partnerships in the firm.
It was on a Friday, at three in the afternoon, when Paul Fink walked into the offices of Sternfeld & Hertz. He walked over to the desk of Herman Horowitz and sat in the visitor's chair, saying, "I've been fired as head of the trust department at Jacobson. Those two broads who I trained, and who are working here, have been pulling away all my business."
"What are you going to do?" Horowitz asked. "You and I are going to convince the two of them to quit the business," Fink told him. "I have a chance to become head of the trust department at Burpenheimer & Co. But to do that, I have to bring in some nice trust accounts. I can take about a half dozen from Jacobson & Co. I was lucky with these accounts and got them into some pretty good stuff. They'll do whatever I say. But there are a good two dozen accounts those two twats took away from me, and I want them back. And the only way to get them back is to have those cunts advise their clients to come back to me."
"And what makes you think the girls are going to do it?" Horowitz asked.
"I don't think-I know," Fink told him. "You and I are going to convince them."
"Hey, look," Horowitz nodded. "I'm all for fucking the shit out of them, but why the hell should I do anything for you?"
"Because," Fink told him, "you are going to be my assistant at Burpenheimer & Co. Think of all those overrides you'll be making."
"Sounds like a good idea," Horowitz abruptly agreed. "So what have you got in mind?"
"How about a little old fashioned gang-fucking. You and me together, working on those cunts, one at a time. Between the pair of us we ought to wear them down."
"Sounds good," Horowitz agreed. "When do we starts?"
"We should have started more than a month ago," Fink told him. "Since we can't go back in time, I suggest we begin immediately, like tonight."
"Are we going to kidnap them, or what?" Horowitz asked.
"Don't be silly," Fink snapped at him. "Kidnapping's against the law. We're going to take these cunts, one at a time, on a weekend-long date."
"How are we going to work it?" Horowitz asked.
"Well, suppose we start with Steffie. We take her to an abandoned motel I know about. It's scheduled to be torn down sometime next year. We can do whatever the hell we want to do to her there, and there isn't a person who'll hear us. Once we get Steffie to agree to whatever we want, we pick up Priscilla and do the same thing."
"What about after we're finished with them?" Horowitz asked.
"Who said we're ever going to be finished with them?" Fink laughed. "Those cunts have lots of good fucking in them. And by the time we turn them loose, they'll have been gone from their jobs so long, the company'll fire them, which is, after all, just what we want."
"Fine," Horowitz nodded. "But since I know where Steffie lives, I think it'd be easier for us to pick up Priscilla, first. She just moved into her own apartment, and no one here knows where it is. I suggest we grab her, then go after Steffie, later."
"Good idea," Paul Fink agreed.
CHAPTER TEN
It won't be long before winter starts, Pris thought, walking along with a light red coat over her blue mini-dress. I'm glad I'm living by myself. If my folks ever found out how I managed to get all those accounts into Sternfeld & Hertz, they'd disown me.
She had a date that evening with Harold Frischeen. Even though the man was old enough to be her father, Pris liked him a lot. And he had a lot more juice in him than many other, younger men she'd seduced. She'd been seeing him on Friday nights a lot. She liked being with him. Since she was in no mood to marry at this time, and he would never be in the mood for another marriage, the two of them were getting along quite well.
It was four-thirty when she left the office. She could have bought a car, but there was nowhere for her to park it in the financial district, and so she'd decided to continue using public transportation. Not only was it cheaper, but it was faster. She didn't notice the cream Mustang driving along nearby, and even if she did, she wouldn't have paid much attention to it. Cars never moved fast in that area.
There was a street she used to cut across to the next block where the bus stop was located. Using the street would save her nearly two blocks of walking, even though it was more like an alleyway than anything else.
Horowitz, behind the wheel of the old Mustang, said to Fink, "This has to be it. Almost no one drives down that block, and hardly anyone ever uses it as a shortcut."
"Okay," Fink nodded. "You drive a little ahead of her and stop the car. As she walks past, we'll jump out and grab her."
Priscilla, still totally unaware of the two men, ignored the car as it sidled by her on the deserted street. Her shoes echoed on the pavement as she walked, not noticing the car, or that it had stopped. Then, as she passed the car, the two doors opened.
She recognized Paul Fink coming from the passenger side, and she felt her heart leap in her bosom. He was one man she didn't want to be with, alone, especially on a deserted street. By now he was certainly aware she and Steffie were the ones taking away his clientele.
"Hello, Pris," he greeted, his nasal voice sounding thin and reedy.
"Mr. Fink," she nodded, and suddenly strong hands were around her, holding her tight, one arm around her breasts and the other hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Before she realized it, Priscilla found herself being hoisted into the air as Paul Fink grabbed her ankles. He tied a short rope around them and the two men brought her to the back of the Mustang. When the hand clamped over her mouth moved for a moment, she took a deep breath, ready to scream, and suddenly a kerchief, the one she'd worn around her neck, was being stuffed into her mouth. Another rope secured her arms to her sides so she couldn't raise them. Facedown, she was thrown into the smelly backseat of the car. The two front seat-backs were slammed back into place, and she felt the car shift as the two men got in. They slammed the car door, and drove off at a very leisurely pace.
They drove for what seemed like forever to Priscilla. She had no conception of time or direction. When the car finally stopped, the two men hauled her out, still face-down, and carried her a short distance. One of them paused to set her feet down, open a door, then pick her feet up again. They carried her inside and shut the door. Blankets had already been hung over the windows, and two large lanterns were being used, since the electricity in the place had been shut off long ago.
When they set Priscilla on her feet, she could see a bed with an old, lumpy mattress, but no bedding. The bonds were removed from her feet, and the gag was taken from her mouth.
"Mr. Fink," she gasped, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but whatever it is, it's wrong. You'd better take me back."
"No way," the gorilla-like voice of Herman Horowitz snapped.
"My God!" she gasped. "What do you want?"
"For openers, your ass," Horowitz guffawed.
Panic gripped Priscilla, and suddenly she began screaming. She screamed long and loud.
"You shut up," Horowitz bellowed at her, "or we'll kick the living crap out of you before we fuck the ass off you. Face it, you stuck-up, snot-nosed brat. You are about to get your cunt fucked good and proper. The harder you make it for us, the harder you make it for yourself. Got me?"
"If you think I'm going to help you rape me, Herman, you're dumber than you look. And that's going some."
"To hell with all this talk," Paul snapped, undoing the ropes around her arms. "See this knife?" he said to Priscilla, waving an ordinary snap-open pen knife in front of her. "It can kill as nicely as anything around. If you give us a hard time, I can use it to slice off your nipples, or cut off your eyelids, or even snip off your clitoris. As I recall, you have a really long clit, and castrating it from the rest of you won't be any kind of problem whatsoever."
"You're sick!" Pris gasped, as he removed her coat. "You're really sick!"
"Leave that little red hat of hers on," Horowitz muttered. "She looks sexier that way."
"She has one nice body," Fink admitted, undoing the buttons on her blue mini-dress and making her remove it. Underneath, she had on a blue bra and a pair of blue pantyhose.
Terrified beyond thought, unable to think at the moment, Pris stood in the middle of the room, trembling and wrapping her arms tightly around her body. They had locked the door, and she was much too frightened to think of crashing through a window and cutting herself to pieces on broken glass. This was a situation for which she was totally unprepared, and she didn't know what to do.
Suddenly the two men seemed to both jump on her at once, literally tearing her bra and pantyhose from her body. When she struggled, they threw her faces down on the mattress.
"Me, first," Horowitz insisted. "I been waiting a long time for this. Me, first."
He stared at her long, columnar thighs, white even in the lantern light. She must have done exercises to keep her thighs so well-toned. Fink used his arms on her ankles to keep her thighs wide apart. Under the bikini panties they could see the crease of her swollen pussylips, surrounded as it was by the black, wiry moss of cunt hair.
"God! Look at that body," Herman Horowitz grunted. "God! I've been waiting so long to fuck her."
"No, no, no!" Priscilla screamed.
He loved the narrowness of her naked waist above her panties, and he paused to admire the firm smoothness of her white back, marred only by the constricting lines caused by her bra. He kneeled and ran a hand over her shivering back, then whispered to Fink, "Shit! Just feel how smooth her back is. No goddamn wonder Ed Horner enjoyed fucking her. And you and I are going to get even more from her."
He leaned forward a little more, sniffing with his nose, smelling the freshness of her back. Then he pushed a hand between her body and the mattress and began squeezing and kneading her small, firm, right breast. His hand trembled as he thrilled to the solidity of her flesh.
"Jesus!" he gasped to Fink. "They're small, but do they ever feel great. I've never felt tits as firm as these."
He felt the hard, rubbery nipples swelling in his palms as he reached beneath the other side of her body with his other hand and felt her other tit. He pulled the nipples hard, and though Pris struggled in an attempt to ward him off, she couldn't help feeling the strength of his caresses. When she almost pulled away from him at one point, he freed a hand, slapped her rump, and yelled, "Stay still, bitch. I've been waiting too long for this. I'll be goddamned if I'm going to let your stubbornness rob me of your hot cunt."
His aching hands slid along the hot contours of her body, running over the firm, white flesh of her slender waist until they came to the elastic top of her panties. His hands continued moving lower, taking the panties with them. He moved one hand around to caress the softness of her quivering belly. There was no way he would have been able to tug her panties off, so he just simply ripped them off.
"Look at that juicy pussy," Horowitz gasped, staring at the hair-lined vertical slit beneath her round buttocks.
Priscilla, feeling Paul Fink's hold on her ankles loosen a bit, attempted to struggle, but Fink's grip tightened again. Realizing how utterly hopeless the whole thing was, she relaxed. She was going to be raped and there was nothing she could do about it. She simply hoped they wouldn't use metal or wood or sandpaper inside her.
A moment later, she stiffened as Herman walked around in front of her and gripped her black hair with his hands, pulling her face up to look at him. He had his belt open and his pants undone with the zipper down. He dropped everything, underpants
Included, giving her a close glimpse of his short, thick cock as it stood slightly out from under his white pelvic bush. It waggled from side to side, almost like half a weather vane.
"Take a good look at it, you black-haired bitch," he told her. "I mean, take a really good look at it. This is the cock that's going to fit in your cunt, among other places. You snide bitch, snubbing me all these weeks."
The heavy mass of white hair above his throbbing cock created the false impression of tremendous strength in his nuts. The swollen, bulging red glans seemed to tease her as its sightless eye, aimed directly at her, let a small drop of its colorless liquid drip onto the mattress right near her face.
"Lap it up, you cunt," Horowitz snapped, cramming her head down into the mattress, rubbing her face into it.
Paul, meanwhile, rested his knees on her ankles and began running his hands over her smooth white buttocks. He had forgotten how fabulous she was. God! There were nights when he dreamed of that one time he'd fucked her, but none of his dreams had accurately recalled how perfect her white skin really was, or the smoothness of her unmarred flesh. He had a clear, unobstructed view of her hair-surrounded nookie, especially since he had a lantern aimed directly at it. He saw the way the faint pink outer lips, all convex and pouting, parted a little to reveal the deeper richness of her pink inner labia. Christ! It was a fantastic sight. He would be fucking it again, though he'd have to wash her out if Horowitz was going in, first.
Horowitz kicked his pants and underwear off, then dropped Pris' sobbing face onto the mattress. Making certain Fink was keeping her thighs wide apart, he rammed two fingers into her dry, pink gash. Fear had kept Pris from lubricating. Even though undressing normally started her creaming, this was one time her juices remained inside. When Horowitz rammed the two fingers into her dry, pink meat, Pris shuddered. But Horowitz was not ready to give up. He continued impatiently sawing into dry nookie, and eventually, even though it was against Pris' will, as his fingertips rubbed inside the outer flaps, a smooth, light liquid began seeping from her. She tried pulling away from his thrusting fingers, but one hand, pressed to her back, held her tightly against the bed, while Paul Fink's knees were still weighing down her ankles. All she could do was lie there, face-down, and inwardly cringe. She felt as if she no longer had the strength to cry.
Horowitz rammed fingers deeper and deeper into her tight hole, shoving them farther and farther into her resisting tunnel. His fingers felt more and more moisture seeping out, and soon there was a flood of pussy juice in her vaginal causeway. He didn't try cramming his fingers in any deeper. He wanted the pleasure of filling her tight quim with his bursting cock. But as he slowly yanked his fingers out of her, he rubbed them all the harder against her upper vaginal wall, feeling how sensitive she was to the pressure he applied.
"Jesus H. Christ!" he gasped. "She has to have the tightest nookie I have ever felt."
Instead of pulling his two fingers out, as he'd originally intended, he jammed a third finger into her, seeing how it made her writhe and wriggle, knowing she was uncomfortable. When he noticed she refused to continue moving, he began rubbing his fingers through her seething box all the more quickly.
Pris, angry at these men as well as frightened, was determined they shouldn't notice her becoming aroused. She didn't want them to know her body could be made to like things even from the creepiest of men. She could feel his fingers moving faster, and because they were coated with the oozing oils from within her body, they seemed to ease in and out. He opened the fingers inside her, touching three of her walls at once, making her wetter and wetter.
Taking a deep breath, Priscilla tried to relax, and as she did so, she thought the pressure on her ankles by Paul Fink's knees seemed to lessen. Once more she tried to roll free, and once more she was doomed to disappointment.
"Now you listen, you bitch," Horowitz said to her. "You aren't getting away. Fight us, and we'll tear the flesh from your body, and you'll end up buried somewhere as fertilizer for somebody's garden. Get me? Now get up on your knees."
Paul took his knees off the girl's ankles, and
Priscilla, knowing the two men would hurt her if she tried making a break, slowly came up on her knees with her head still pressing into the mattress. Herman Horowitz, who was now behind her and on the bed with his knees wedged between her thighs, prevented her from closing her thighs. He was ramming his three thrusting fingers a bit deeper inside her, still wanting to keep her tight cunt as open as possible. Not that he gave a damn whether or not she enjoyed what he was doing. What he did care about was keeping that hot hole open wide enough for him to fit his own throbbing cock inside. But he did notice Pris was involuntarily moving her body to counter the thrusts of his fingers.
Finally he tugged his fingers out, then used his thumbs to pull her pussylips apart, looking into her hole, saying, "That has to be the most fabulous cunt I've ever seen." And then he gripped his cock with his hand and pressed it to the meaty opening.
"Don't!" Pris gasped, her voice sounding dry and cracked. "Herman, don't do this. Please, please."
"Stop the shitting," Horowitz snapped. "You fucked willingly enough for Ed Horner. I know. I followed you and Horner to Steffie's apartment that night. When you came back from your walk and went inside, you forgot to lock the door. I peeped in and saw you. It isn't as if you're some prim little virgin. You've been fucked before, and more than once, if what Paul, here, tells me, is right. So you have no cause objecting to my fucking you. Why the hell should you care, anyway? A cock's a cock."
"Ohhhhhh n-o-o-o-o-o . . . " Pris gasped, feeling his solid spike of cock begin slamming at her leaking vagina.
His hand, tightly gripping it, guided it past slavering vaginal outer lips. He felt her writhe as the unwanted pole began making inroads. Even if she was a bit wet inside, her cunt was not nearly wide enough, and it wasn't prepared to accept so thick a piece of pipe into its seething interior. Her tight quimwalls were being stretched and swollen as he slowly moved into her. Horowitz wasn't being kind, moving his prick into her simmering pussy, slowly. He wanted to get the full enjoyment of her burning pussy as it slowly enveloped his entire five-inch, broad poker, and her tight cuntwalls felt the agony as he pushed forward, stretching them. Little by little he forced the tight sleeve of her crushing pussy to open, and it hurt all the more because he was prolonging the entrance. Pris began weeping again, sobbing as the thick, stubby spike pushed its way into her. She cried to think he made her feel good.
To Herman Horowitz, the sensation was fantastic. He'd never before realized how wonderful a woman's cunt could feel. He had never married, basically because there wasn't a woman in the world dumb enough to want him, even if he made a halfway decent living. He looked like such an ogre, and behaved so poorly, women, in general, wanted nothing to do with him. He couldn't even get many whores to do anything for him, and as a result, he did more things by hand than any other way.
Now, hot and sticky, he felt the tight rubber band-like tunnel of Priscilla's screaming cunt squeeze the hell out of his throbbing cock. It was a flaming, burning sensation of tingling delight, and as he moved deeper and deeper into her, he felt his balls shudder with wonder and delight.
"Christ!" he said to Paul Fink. "I've never fucked a cunt this tight in my life. Christ! This has to be the most fabulous pussy my cock has ever felt. Shit! You wouldn't believe how great it is in here."
"I believe, I believe," Fink nodded. "I've been there before."
Her tight vulva spread the littlest bit wider now, accepting him somewhat more readily, and the heated, sticky ooze wetting her inner flesh flooded and bathed his probing cock, making wild pinwheels of light go off in his mentally retarded brain.
"God! Just look at the way its fitting into her," Horowitz gasped. "I've got to get it all the way in."
Taking a deep breath, Horowitz slammed forward hard, and his solid meat almost tore her mucous membranes as it sank still deeper. Yet, Pris loved every bit of it, rough as it was, and though her mind objected to the presence of Herman Horowitz, the fact he was fucking her without her having to look at him served to enhance the tingling pressures within.
Her brain continued to ask why Fink and Horowitz had teamed up to do this to her. They were sick. That seemed like the only logical explanation.
The thick, fat prick roared through her clutching, crushing vagina, working faster and faster, making her lubricate that much more quickly, charging all the way into her aching, yearning vessel. His flat belly rammed against the tops of her ass-cheeks, and his curiously smooth thighs slapped against the lower parts of her rectal mounds, hitting them so hard they were being squashed flat. Flames burned through his eager lungs as he gripped her smooth hips and let his baton move smoothly in and out. His plundering cock was covered with her pussy juices as he rammed it in again and again, not even caring the grunts coming from her were grunts of enjoyment rather than gasps of sorrow. His thick dick rubbed so solidly through her tissues, it pressured all four walls at once, and Pris' biggest regret at that moment was that it was so short. Two or even three more inches would have been perfect. The swollen head of his pounding cock was nowhere near her cervix.
Horowitz looked down to stare at his oil-covered schlong, gasping as he enjoyed the way it moved in and out of her. He could see the cuticle-shaped pink ridges of her inner, tender labia leaping out each time he yanked his throbbing penis back, and noted how everything seemed to disappear like magic each time he thrust forward. Now he started setting a regular fucking pace, in and out, in and out, slamming his entire bulk against her rounded moons of ass each time he slammed forward. His hands were clutching her white flesh so tightly, his fingers were leaving black and blue marks in her delicate skin.
The flames in his lungs turned to searing metal as he gasped all the more heavily, forcing her thighs to open even more widely so he could study their contours. She was kneeling before him as if bowing, praying to a lord and master. True, she was facing the other way, but that was the only way he could get into her seething cunt as she paid him homage. His pounding prick continued slamming into her tight, sucking depths, and he was content she had been made for his own personal enjoyment.
His mind was on fire-what there was of it-and his stabbing cock throbbed, his thick, bloated, swollen glans charging through her ravaged channel, creating the feeling he was actually slicing into her tender flesh. Where this female was concerned, he was a god.
Over and over his slamming dork rammed into her red, feminine incision, building more and more pleasure in Pris' uncontrolled body. The muscles in his thighs tightened as he continued his merciless pounding, rotating his body as he plugged into her again and again. He wished his throbbing cock was longer so he could send it deeper and deeper into her damn body. He'd teach her to think he was a nobody. He'd show her he was as good as, if not better than, any other cock she'd ever had plowing into her tight, squeezing depths. He realized he was getting to her, listening to her sighing, grunting, pleasurable groans. He whished he'd brought a tape recorder so he could play back the sounds later on, letting her recognize her own voice, making her realize he had fucked her as well as any man.
Her deep gasps mixed with guttural moans of delight were short, punctuated groans of pleasure. Each one seemed to begin before the other had ended, and Pris cursed herself for not being able to control her inner feelings. She was enjoying this, all of it, even though the men had frightened the wits out of her earlier. If this was the punishment they intended to continue meting out to her, she knew she would be able to outlast the two of them, even if she was the captive at present.
Horowitz violently slammed his petrified cock into her steaming center repeatedly, as if expecting to drill up into belly. For all the energy he'd expended, he was now gasping and wheezing, sweat flooding his ample forehead and spilling into his eyes. This only made him screw his throbbing cock into the tender recesses of the young girl's soft pussy with that much more fierceness. He could feel his swollen cock becoming thicker, swearing it would soon burst if his rocks didn't blow off. His big ass-cheeks tightened as he pounded into her all the more vehemently, feeling his small scrotum tighten and draw up into his groin. His thighs continued wickedly slamming against her soft white ass-cheeks, enhancing the sensations that much more for him.
For all his thrusting, Horowitz was unable to hurt Priscilla, who was in a rapturous state all by herself. A cock always seemed to do wonders for her. Her gasps and sighs were of total, wanton delight as the stubby flesh cane continued its reckless attack into her tight quim, reaching for her cervical opening, totally incapable of stretching that far.
And then Horowitz began to feel it That sensation for which he had been waiting; the reason for his having gone through all this began reaching into him. It began pouring over him, inundating him, swallowing him up like a huge, gigantic tidal wave. He slammed himself all the more strongly into her as his entire body suddenly stiffened.
His entire torso was a rigid board as he stiffened behind her little round ass, knifing his throbbing staff into her again and again. He was going to come.
Pris felt his tightening, but she was way ahead of him. She had already felt three tiny climaxes shooting through her body, and now, suddenly, a big one hit her with more force than any thrust of Horowitz.
"EEEEEAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!" she screamed, unable to control herself as her tight cunt began spasming around the thrusting cock, exerting more pressure on it than ever. Her tight cunt opened and closed, squeezing harder each time it closed, literally sucking the juice and the strength from his throbbing penis.
"AYYYYAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" Horowitz bellowed as he began a series of long, spasming thrusts, violently trembling as thick, gummy wads of semen spurted from the tip of his flesh hose, flooding into her with burning satiety. Gasping shouts seemed to die in his throat as he gurgled, unable to properly express himself as his entire world suddenly seemed to shatter.
Pris whined when she felt him pull out of her, but was surprised to feel him fall back on the bed behind her.
"What's the matter with you?" Paul Fink asked.
"Asthma," Horowitz gasped. "Asthma. I'm having an attack. Need mouth spray."
"Where is it?" Paul asked as Horowitz's naked body rolled to the floor.
"Drugstore," he gasped. "Go to the drugstore." And he mentioned the name of a spray.
"You," Paul Fink said to Priscilla. "Lie down on the bed. Right now."
She lay down, face up, and he used Herman Horowitz's belt to tie her to the bed. Then he said, "I'm going out to get Herman his medicine. I'll be back in a very short while. And then I'm going to fuck that sweet mouth of yours. So you limber up that tongue and get it ready for me, understand?"
Pris could only lay there, feeling a little disgusted. Even with his so-called friend rolling around on the floor, unable to breathe, all Paul Fink could think about was getting his rocks off in her mouth.
She lay back as Fink pulled on his jacket, opened the door, and hurried out, shutting and locking the door behind him. As she lay there, listening to the loud wheezing sounds coming from Horowitz, she felt a little ashamed that she, too, felt the desire for more climaxes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Harold Frischeen had felt himself come alive for the first time in a long time, and he was intelligent enough to realize Priscilla was the reason. She was just a girl, yet in many ways she was better for him than any woman. And she had been good for his trust account, too. With sole power of attorney, she had, in a short month, increased the value of his holdings five percent. She was terrific.
That Friday, instead of waiting for her to go home, shower, change, then come to him, Frischeen decided he would pick Pris up at her office. When he got to her office, he was told she had just left, and so he got into his Lincoln Continental and headed for the bus stop where he was told she waited for the bus. A block from the bus stop, he had seen her walking into a side street, and so he turned his car in that direction. The constant flow of people around his car hampered its movement. He could barely move, though as he approached the side street, he saw there was no traffic there. He also saw the old white Mustang reach the side street while he was still struggling to get there. The car stopped, two men got out, one started talking to Pris and the other one jumped her. Between them, the two men bound and gagged her, throwing her into the car before he had a chance to reach the street. And by the time he did nose his car into the side street, the Mustang had gone out the other end.
For the next hour, he did his best to follow the white car, but at one point it reached an open stretch of road long before he did, and before he knew it, it had gotten away from him. He drove quickly in the hope of catching up with the car, but at one point he realized the car had turned off, somewhere. He began cruising up and down, up and down, looking through the various streets near the highway, finding nothing, feeling more and more frustrated. He had gotten a good look at the man to whom Pris had been talking, and if he ever saw the man's face again, he'd batter it.
And then, as he was cruising along a side street, he saw the white Mustang. It was moving, and he moved right along behind it. He watched the car make a few turns and ultimately stop in a small shopping area. He began to wonder whether or not it was the same car, but then he saw the man who had been talking to Pris get out, and he knew he was on the right track. He waited, watching, and saw the man go into a drugstore, then come out. The white car started up again, and he followed it. This time it led back to a motel. But as he got closer, Harold Frischeen realized the motel was deserted. He watched the man get out of the white car and go into one of the units, closing the door behind him.
Getting out of his own car, Frischeen decided to sneak up on the unit and try to see or hear what was going on inside. And if these scumbags had Priscilla, as he believed, he'd tear them apart. He might be a retired colonel, but he was still in good shape.
Inside, Paul Fink held the mouth spray to Herman Horowitz's mouth and squeezed. Horowitz breathed deeply, and, after about a half minute, began breathing more normally.
"You feeling better?" Fink asked.
"Yeah," Horowitz grunted, still pretty much out of breath.
"You just lie here and get your strength back," Fink told him. "It's my turn to work over the pretty little girl. And I'm going to use that sweet little mouth of hers."
"Won't be able to help with Steffie," Horowitz grunted.
"Don't worry," Fink assured him, stripping down. "I can keep working on Priscilla until tomorrow, when you'll have your strength back. Then we can go after Steffie together."
"Unnhh!" Horowitz grunted, nodding his head in assent.
Turning to Priscilla, Fink said, "we can do this the easy way or the hard way. But you'd better believe you're going to suck my cock."
"No," Pris told him, shaking her head.
A strong sense of shame had invaded her for the first time. She realized, no matter how good sex was, she wasn't some wet hole to be constantly fucked by men who simply felt like it. Until today, she had been choosing her men, though most of the men she had chosen were for business. Now she suddenly realized a man had chosen her, even though she didn't want the man. She didn't want either of the men. Knowing her body as she did, if Fink ever got his cock into her mouth, she'd suck it avidly in the hope of attaining an oral orgasm. But now, while her mind was clear, she realized she wanted nothing to do with either Paul Fink or Herman Horowitz.
"You're going to do it," Fink insisted, getting on the bed and straddling her soft body with his knees, feeling her nipples tickle his ass as he began lowering his boom of cock toward her mouth.
God! she thought. Don't, let this happen. I can't help my self for loving sex. It isn't my fault that I respond to a cock all the time. But there has to be a point where a girl says no. And where Paul Fink is concerned, my answer is no.
The cock was coming closer and closer to her face. The dangling balls were already near her chin.
And then there was a loud crash as a beam of twilight lanced into the room. The door was wide open, half off its hinges, and Harold Frischeen was in the doorway.
Frischeen, seeing Priscilla tightly bound to the bed, with Paul Fink's thighs hovering over her face, suddenly became enraged. He charged into the room as Fink leaped off the bed. Before Fink could get his balance, Frischeen had kicked him in the balls. Fink fell back against the wall, clutching his crotch.
Frischeen stalked over to where the man lay and stomped on his face a half dozen times, until Fink's long, bulbous, DeGaulle nose had been smashed flat. Then he turned to Herman Horowitz, whose naked body lay pitifully on the floor. But when he saw the dried drops of sperm on Horowitz's groin, and saw the flecks of it in Pris' dark, ebony-black hair, he became angrier than ever, and kicked Horowitz in the temple.
Going over to the bed, he untied Priscilla, asking, "did they hurt you much?"
"They raped me," she acknowledged. "I don't know if that's going to turn you off me, but I think you should know it."
"Don't be silly," Frischeen told her. "But I'd like you to press charge against these two. I'll phone the police, and I can be your witness."
"All right," Priscilla nodded, somewhat shaken.
While Frischeen went out and used a public phone, Pris dressed as best she could. She was more than a little shaken, she suddenly realized.
Three hours later, Pris and Harold Frischeen were back in her new apartment where she was relaxing in a tub of hot water, washing all of Herman Horowitz out of her. To insure having cleaned him out, she douched as well.
When she finally came out of the bathroom, she relaxed and ate some of the supper Frischeen had gotten for her.
"I hope this won't ruin our relationship," he said to her.
"Why should it?" she asked. "I'm over the fright. And I've assured the police I'll testify against both men."
"I suppose you're tired after your ordeal, and you'd like to go to sleep."
"No, Harold," she told him, standing up and removing her robe, letting him see her nakedness underneath. "I want to go to bed, not to sleep."
