Stage manager Sandy Buck couldn't believe it. The entire lighting crew of the Gypsy revival was flashing her. Checking on a lighting setup, she walked into a cock review meant for her eyes only!
As she walked backstage, she was confronted with the sight of six dangling cocks on display for her eager, ogling eyes. Six different pieces of meat were hanging over six different sets of balls.
"Hey, you guys, what's going on?" Sandy shouted as she looked at the fascinating array of cockflesh before her. Two were uncut, four cut to show very different shaped heads. And their exposed balls were just as unique looking as their dicks. Some of their sacs were smooth and seemingly hairless, while others were wrinkled and massively covered.
Sandy licked her lips and smiled. "I get the picture," she said as she reached out to touch the head of Dave's enormous tool. "Which one of you do I get to suck off first?"
CHAPTER ONE
My job as a stage manager is extremely diversified. That's what I like about it. That, plus you get to meet and work with a lot of stars. Just being around them makes you feel a little famous, too. I still find it hard to believe that little Sandy Buchowninski, from Kankakee, Illinois is rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. It blows my mind. And I think changing my name to Sandy Buck got the whole thing started. In this crazy world of theatre, you have to have a name that's easily remembered because no one will bother otherwise. When you begin to make it, you can always go back to the original and get by with something like Schwarzenegger or Steenbergen.
But my job can also cause a lot of problems. It demands a lot of my time, seven days a week, and is a never ending source of headaches. That's how I lost Rob, my former lover, a plumber with his own lead pipe. His jealousy ruined a good thing. My pussy drools just thinking about him, about his ten-inch prick and smooth body. But that's the past. I have to forget him and find new crotches to conquer.
I'm currently in rehearsals for the Broadway revival of Gypsy, and there are a million and one things remaining to be done. Costumes heads the agenda today, and that's where I'm headed now. Somehow the schedule got flicked and our leading lady couldn't make her costume fitting. Being her same size, they're going to fit everything on me. Just another snafu on my already too long list.
Randy Stevens, our costumer, wasted no time in getting down to work.
"Strip it, sweetums. Pop out those tits, and lay bare that bush. I've got work to do," he said before I could even say hello.
"I'm not getting naked in front of you."
"Gotta. Gypsy Rose Lee was a stripper, right? And her costumes gotta be skin-tight, right? So, quit arguing and strip. Would music help?"
"No it would not! I'm not stripping," I said as emphatically as I could.
"I don't need this crap today. Look. The bras are built into the dresses and I'm not having panty lines show through my costumes. How tacky! Now, just be a good girl and get undressed. Throw modesty to the wind, my dear. Go ahead. Make my day," he said, lowering his voice three octaves to match Clint Eastwood's.
It was obvious Randy was not about to budge, and my protesting was getting nowhere. I gave in, had to or my schedule would never recover.
Randy stood me in front of a full-length mirror with a rack of costumes stretching endlessly next to it. The light sparkled off sequins and silks, satins and taffeta, all formed into elegant gowns to be stripped away to the strains of "Let Me Entertain You."
Randy fiddled with his costumes, ignored me, while I peeled of my sweater and jeans. I hesitated in my bra and panties, then choked back my modesty. I stood in front of the mirror, stark naked, a touch of excitement racing through my flesh. Randy was obviously a fag, and could probably care less about my nude body, but he was still a man and my Kankakee shyness raised its imposing head.
I placed my hands on my hips, just to make it appear my nudity didn't bother me in the slightest, and glanced over my figure. I was impressed, looked at it as though for the first time. My firm breasts rounded to just the right size, not too small, not too big, larger than a handful but not overpowering like Chesty Morgan. And I'm thankful that my nipples are surrounded by a light red circle rather than the too pale pink or the dark brown of some women. Turning to the side, I loved the curve my fits made from nipple to chest, said a silent "thank you" for having the sense to never go braless. Too many women have sagging, flattened breasts from not wearing a bra, a heavy price to pay for making a statement.
Dark hair protruded between my legs, turned my body back to face the mirror. My slim waist exploded around sensuous hips with a brown, curly triangle perched right on top of long, slender legs. I had the body to be a star, if I could only sing! But I shouldn't complain. A lot of starlets have to buy what I possess naturally. I couldn't help it as my hands slid into my crotch, pulled up on my soft pubes, exposed full, rounded lips which conceal a hot box of steaming sexuality.
"Pretty pussy," Randy said.
I had forgotten all about him, removed my hands immediately, and felt my face flush. He stood next to me holding out a black sequined gown.
"We begin with your basic black," he announced, handing me the dress. "Step into this and I'll make you a star."
I quickly put it on to cover my nakedness, to remove my embarrassment. The strapless dress was pretty loose and I had to hold it over my tits. Randy was instantly tugging and pulling, pinning me into the gown. The fabric hugged my curves, became a second skin. He was right, anything underneath would have ruined the sexy lines.
While Randy worked, I studied him in the mirror. He was a good looking guy, slightly built, with a black mustache that popped out against his pale skin. He didn't look to be very hairy, and his baggy pants hid any hint of dick. With my curiosity aroused by this fact, my imagination attached cock after cock until one seemed appropriate. I smiled when I had him properly fit. My curiosity then led me in a new direction. I wondered what it would be like to fuck a fag. Now, there was a challenge if ever there was one! The thought fanned my desire, turned idle curiosity to sudden lust.
"Next," he said, hold a light blue satin gown.
I started to unzip the black dress, but was quickly stopped.
"No, no, sweetie. Over the top. She's going to have to undress if she ever hopes to make her costume changes on time."
I slipped the blue dress over my head. Randy's hands were once again all over me, fitting one dress over the other. It covered it completely, and no one would ever guess there was another dress beneath. His touch was strangely stimulating. It wasn't at all what I had expected. It was firm, knowledgeable, sensuous, gave every indication that Randy was all man.
A red taffeta gown came next, right over the other two, and was cut fuller and more flowing. I stepped into it, pulled it up, and once again, the other two dresses were completely hidden.
Randy had more difficulty fitting this third dress, the others wanting to bunch up in all the wrong places.
"Damn it. Stupid sequins. Fucking things are catching on everything "
Randy dropped to his knees and raised the red taffeta over his head. His hands shimmied up my bare legs, reaching for the black dress. A strange thrill leapt into my working crotch and turned to heat as his palms caressed the cheeks of my ass.
"What are you doing down there?" I asked. "Straightening you out," came the muffled voice. "Sure is dark in here. I can barely see your pussy. But not to worry, I have a wonderful sense of smell."
"Randy Stevens You come out of there right --"
I stopped mid-sentence when I felt Randy's nose press against my cunt. His hot breath tumbled over my thighs and two dresses were suddenly bunched around my waist. Without thinking, my legs parted to open my snatch to his mouth. His tongue dove in between my hairy lips, produced a pleasurable gasp as my pussy surrounded his invasion. My eyes were wide with shock. I had thought Randy to be gay, yet here he was, his mouth clamped firmly onto my pussy. So much for a challenge here.
"Oh, Randy Yes. Eat my pussy," I said above him.
His tongue bathed my clit, circled it lovingly before penetrating my pouting hole. Once. Then he licked like he was devouring an ice cream cone, savored the taste of my juices in long, upward strokes. He left my cunt when he reached the top, rushed back to its beginning to lick again, slurping his drooling mouth over quivering flesh. I rocked in rhythm to his foreplay, anticipated his dive into my awaiting interior.
He played me like a delicate violin, warming me up before the concert. He nibbled on my lips, brushed my clit with his mustache, worked his fingers into my asscrack to toy with my tightened asshole. Heat seared my stomach as it rose up from a cunt on fire. This was no time for a snack. My pussy was ready to be eaten
"Make me cum," I shouted. "Fuck me with your tongue "
My hands massaged my tits through three layers of fabric, tried to pull them from my chest as Randy continued his attack on the outside of my screaming crotch. An orgasm was somewhere inside me, I felt the restless stirrings, knew it would happen if Randy would just get his maddening tongue where it belonged. But he refused, kept up the tantalizing torture, nipped at the edges of my taco without getting to the meat.
"If you don't get inside that box, I swear I'll squeeze your fucking head off "
He did just the opposite, his tongue snaking down the inside of my thigh. The tingle claiming my body landed dead center in my cunt, set it trembling like an earthquake. My legs wobbled and my pussy snapped. His tongue, his lips, his nose, investigated every inch of my thigh but stayed well away from my sopping snatch. He made me angry. Rob would never have teased me so, always drove his flaming pipe directly up my cunt in a searing blast of claiming lust. That's what I was used to; that's what I wanted now. Fill my box with hot, pounding meat (cock or tongue made no difference), just get in and pump me into divine orgasm.
My hands left my tits, raised the red taffeta, and latched on the back of his head. I forced his face into my cunt, buried his nose between my grasping lips. He didn't resist, opened his mouth, and finally jabbed his hard tongue into my anguished hole.
"Yes Yes At last Oh, God, Randy. Fuck me Work that tongue like a stiff prick. Make me drench your face in hot cum"
With first entry, I knew right where my orgasm was. It sat on the edge of freedom, splashed the fast tastes into my wonderful alive cunt. My hands returned to my tits, heightened the enjoyment of man eating pussy. I skewered myself on his tongue, did all the work, knew what it took to get me off. Randy could go along for the ride, didn't have to do any more than keep himself inside my experienced, ready-to-explode pussy.
"Hang on, Randy " My legs clamped around his head, held him in place as my orgasm drowned him in the juices of love. His tongue went wild, careened within my flowing box. My eyes closed, my breath held in excruciating torrents of heavenly release.
My thighs quaked around Randy's head. His fingers struggled in my tightly clamped ass. He screamed up my cunt, his voice a muffled gurgle. I couldn't stop. It was the first multiple orgasm I had had in months. One right on top of the other. Three, I think, but who was counting
Randy finally worked his hands out of my ass and pushed his head away from my rampaging river. Panting and gasping, he fell to the floor, his head poking out beneath red taffeta, his face matching the color of the dress.
"You bitch. You tried to drown me "
"Serves you right. Taking something-without asking. Besides, what's a fag like you doing eating pussy in the first place?"
"Fuck that It's all an act. Puts the girls at ease. They'll strip for a fag. No threat and all that."
I laughed. "And the whole time you're getting a free look at all the tits and ass any man could ask for. Quite the scam."
"Whatever it takes. But it does have it's drawbacks. I'm forever locked into wearing baggy pants. It's the only way to hide a raging hard-on."
"Poor baby. Life is a bitch, isn't it?"
I spent the entire day jumping in and out of costumes, alternating between ultimate dress-up and naked reality. Randy made no further advances, nor did I. We both seemed content with one dose of sex for the day.
We finished up about 6:30, just enough time to get back to the theatre for a seven o'clock meeting with the show's producer, a meeting I was not looking forward to.
Just before opening the door to leave, Randy stopped me, an odd look claiming his face.
"In the name of fair play and equality, don't you think you should return my earlier favor?" His eyes stared into mine as he loosened his belt and dropped his pants to the floor. His bikini briefs stretched under the pressure of a protruding erection.
"Randy, I really don't have the time," I said, staring at his straining briefs.
"Sure. You got off and that's all that matters Well, what about me? What am I supposed to do? Sit in some corner and whack it off myself?"
"I have a meeting in half an hour." There was more to be said, but the words wouldn't come out. I watched him ease his shorts over crushed hair, down the length of his stiff prick, stop with the head of his cock caught on the elastic waistband. He shifted his shorts back and forth, rolled his head before slipping the briefs completely free. His cock sprang up like a catapult.
Randy bent over and removed both pants and briefs, stood in his shoes, socks, and sweat shirt, his lower half bared in a flagrant offering of sex. His hands lifted his balls, separated them slightly, then let them fall back against his legs. His cock hovered like a circling hawk in search of prey.
"It's yours for the taking," he announced, his hands opening to his sides to frame his groin. "And look at the time I've already saved you. Stripped and ready for action. What more could a girl ask for?"
It was a pretty cock. It would only take me twenty minutes to get to the theatre. And it seemed a shame to waste a good erection.
As I stepped forward, Randy grabbed his cock and held it out for me. My knees buckled, my mouth opened. Knees and lips connected simultaneously.
My hands slid up the back of his legs as my mouth slid down the length of his prick. I took all of him to get his pole moistened for the ride to follow. My throat opened to accept his full head, to give him the tight feel of confining flesh. Once all the way in, once I felt the downward slope of his ball sac on my lower lip, I pulled up to capture just the head between my lips, to investigate the deep channel with my tongue.
"Yeah, baby. Tongue that head. Make me drool into your mouth."
I tasted his fluid the first sweep my tongue made over his pisshole. Randy's cock was more than ready, and my mouth was willing to accept everything it had to offer, my lips gripping firmly to hot flesh, my tongue swabbing a healthy head, my teeth nibbling at sensitive skin stretched as tightly as a drum.
My hands skimmed over his hairless cheeks and forced themselves into his crack. They clenched his mounds in preparation for pumping his dick deep down my throat. But not yet. First I needed to return the teasing he had imposed on me, to make him squirm, to make him beg me to suck his meat dry.
I raised my head off his cock, let it flop into the cool air and lowered onto his nuts. I tweaked them with my tongue, then clasped onto the hairs with my lips, pulling, jerking his balls away from his legs. Releasing them evoked a quiet sigh from Randy's lips. I watched the hard nuts roll around in their protective sac before moving in to kiss his thighs, to deny his pounding cock as he had denied my pussy. Fair play, and all that.
"Suck me, Sandy. Suck my nuts. Suck my cock. Just suck me "
I locked one of his balls in my mouth and pulled, stretched it lower and lower. I was careful not to exert too much pressure, just enough to keep it captured, just enough to make it pleasurable. Releasing it at its lowest limit produced a moan with an intensity I hadn't heard from Rob or any other man. I did the same to the other nut and received the same delighted response.
"No more. My nuts are on fire! God, Sandy. Give a guy a break. My dick's going to explode without you!"
I took the warning to heart and raised up to clamp onto his rod. The heat nearly burned my tongue as I guided it into my throat. My fingers tickled his asshole, my tongue wrapped around his girth. I held his head in my throat, for just a moment, then let it slide back through my grasping lips. That's when I sucked in earnest, pumped his turgid tool full in and full out. The unique sounds of sucking cock resounded in my ears. The wet pop when it emerges from my mouth, followed by the fleshy gurgle as it slides back in, and all the subtle slurping noises in between. There are no other sounds like it.
I released one hand from his clenching ass and brought it around to cradle his balls, to roll them around in added stimulation to an already throbbing dick. His nuts were as hard and as hot as stones around a campfire.
Fondling his balls brought a steady stream of whimpers from Randy. I wanted to look at his face, to capture a glimpse of the pleasure I was creating. But I had to keep my eyes closed to protect them against the swirling mass of hair that met my face with each downward thrust. I increased the pressure upon his cock, keeping it within the confines of my mouth.
I sped up, my head a mass of writhing blonde curls. Working his cock, his balls and his asshole would surely produce the desired load of cum within seconds. That first taste of juices upon his cockhead told me I was in for a real treat. The acid taste of lubricating fluid always means sweet tasting cum. I couldn't wait!
When Randy's whimpers deepened and the space between each lengthened, I knew it was time. His body froze, his hips no longer forcing his cock down my throat, his ass clamped onto my fingers in a tremendous show of strength. I slowed down, knowing he was on the edge of spurting, and milked his cock in long, loving strides.
A few more strokes was all it took. With his cockhead exploding, I stopped, sucked and drank creamy cum in quick gulps. His semen was thick and as sweet as I had predicted. It shot directly into my throat and eased-down the channel in streaming smoothness. Before the last of it was lost forever, I pulled back to hold the spouting head just inside my mouth. His cum spilled onto my tongue, the final drops of exquisite ejaculation.
Randy went almost immediately soft within my mouth. I let his dick slip away as I savored his taste and experienced the sublime stickiness of man.
Randy managed to speak between gasps. "Nice. What a ... mouth. I think my dick is ... in love!"
I stared at his cock, his hands massaging the reddened flesh. It felt a little bigger than it looked right now, but it had gone soft. I'm forever jealous of the changes in a man's dick. A cock never seems to look the same way twice. That's not to say I'd ever give up my pussy in favor of a dick. No way! A pussy changes too, you just can't see it.
"Well, I hate to eat and run, but that's life in the theatre," I said, getting up from my knees.
"You have an open invitation for a return engagement any time you like."
"I like. We'll see. Just now I have a producer to meet. God, I hate begging for money!"
"Don't beg. With that mouth, blow for it!"
"If life were only that simple. I'd be a fucking millionaire! If I thought I could fuck my way to fame and fortune, I'd be flat on my back before you could say Gypsy Rose Lee!"
"Gypsy Rose Lee," Randy said with a big smile. "I said 'if'. Besides, you're only a costumer."
"Thanks a lot, bitch."
I left Randy puffing on his briefs to cover a limp but satisfied dick. I hailed a cab and had exactly nineteen minutes to make it to the theater.
CHAPTER TWO
I arrived at the theater with thirty seconds to spare, and had to jostle my way through the crowd. It was the closing weeks of the current show and it seemed all of New York had waited until the last minute to see it. We wouldn't get the place for another two weeks, but our producer, Martin Heller, had already claimed a small office. Life would become a great deal easier once the theater was ours and everyone was collected in one place. We'd still rehearse in the rehearsal hall four blocks away. But everyone else would be under one roof and I wouldn't have to spend my time racing around the city to check on everyone's progress.
I knocked on Martin's door at precisely 7:00 p.m. My knock was greeted by a tentative "Come in". The opening door showed Martin (never "Marty") to be seated behind his desk, a quizzical look perched on his heavily jowled face. He smiled as I entered, apparently remembered our meeting.
"Promptness. That's what I like about you, Sandy. Promptness. That, and your body."
"Let's keep this strictly business, okay?" I said, slip-ping into a chair to keep the desk between us.
"Sure, honey. What can I do for you?" He leaned back in his chair and twirled his fat cigar between his lips, sucked on it like a fat, stubby cock. The office reeked of cheap tobacco and sweaty body odor. Martin was overweight, not rolling in fat, just overweight. He looked like an out-of-shape boxer, a good physique gone sour from ignoring middle-age spread. It was a shame because he could be a rather handsome man. Even beneath the extra skin, his face gave evidence that he was a real lady killer in his prime.
"I need money," I said, cutting to the heart of the matter.
"Everybody needs money. Personal or business?"
"Business, of course. I need a petty cash fund to clear up all the little emergencies that keep cropping up. No much. A couple of hundred or so."
"A hundred here, a couple of hundred there, it all adds up, sweetheart. I'm not swimming in dough, you know."
"I'm not asking for a lot. I just need--"
"I know. But ya gotta realize that we're running way over budget. Money's tight."
"Not as tight as your pocketbook."
"That's not the way to get what you want, honey."
I hated the way he called me "honey". It made me feel cheap and dirty. He was right, though, the way to his checkbook was not through rudeness. I'd have to play on his ego, butter him up for the kill.
"Sorry, Martin. Frustration made me say that. And worry. I'm facing a rapidly dwindling bank account and this show isn't helping. How about helping a damsel in distress?"
"I'll think about it. Right now there's a bigger problem facing you. I need your help with our star."
"Debbie? Mama Rose?"
"No. Carla Cristan. Everyone knows it's Mama Rose's show, everyone but Carla, that is. Our Gypsy Rose Lee is a royal pain in the ass. What a waste of nice tits."
"I've heard some grumbling, but I didn't know there was a real problem." I'd spent the last week checking on everything from props to costumes and hadn't made it over to the rehearsal hall. There were just too many things to do.
"The bitch is holding up rehearsals," Martin said, leaning back over the desk, his chair squeaking beneath his weight," and costing me money! Fucking cunt is a real prima donna. Another week like this one and she's out!"
"You can't fire her. We've only got three weeks to opening!"
"I can do whatever I fucking please. I want you at all rehearsals from now on. Ride that bitch, keep her in line." Martin puffed on his cigar, his face reddening the more he thought about the money Carla was costing him.
"I'll do what I can. I promise. But what about my money? Did I get it or not?"
"What are you willing to do for it? Fuck me for a hundred?"
"Martin!" Our business meeting had suddenly turned personal. I watched him rise from his chair, move around the desk, and sit on the corner. His suit was wrinkled and creased, his pants pulling across his heavy thighs. His stomach fell over his belt and his white shirt was open at the collar. A hopeful smile surrounded the cigar.
"A hundred! Haven't you heard of inflation? A hundred will get you a look at my tits. A thousand."
"That's robbery! Two hundred for a blow job."
I don't know why I was continuing this haggling. I had no intention of flicking him. Still, there was something intriguing about screwing someone overweight, an en-counter I had not yet experienced. "Nine hundred and you can do whatever you like."
"Three hundred."
"Eight.
"Five hundred and we fuck. No more, no less.
"Deal. Write the check." It all happened so fast I had just bartered away my box for something I should have gotten free and clear. But a deal is a deal. Martin wrote out the check and locked the door before handing it to me.
"Don't you trust me?" I asked, pulling my sweater over my head. "I'm an honest woman and you'll get what you paid for. No more, no less."
Martin finally put out his cigar. He motioned to the sofa and began to undress. I matched him piece for piece, waiting for his shirt to hit the floor before I went any further. Martin meant to be fully naked, removing his shoes and socks.
I watched him in fascinated curiosity. When we faced each other in our underwear, my body tingled in anticipation of this new adventure. I couldn't see his cock in his boxer shorts, his stomach pulling the fabric away from his crotch, and had no idea if he was yet erect or hung limply down.
His T-shirt inched over his hairy belly, exposing a deep and dark navel in the center of firm flesh. He was solid, not flabby and jiggling, or so it would appear. My bra fell to the floor and we stood bare-chested, my tits round and perky with the vigor of youth, his soft and fleshy.
"Pretty titties!" Martin said, his eyes scanning my chest before dropping down to stare at my panties. "Aha! You're not a real blonde!"
"I most certainly am!"
"Not according to that black mound between your legs."
"Black my ass!" I said, hooking my panties and lowing them down my legs. "Take a look at that, asshole! That bush is ash blonde!"
"So it is. Spread 'em, honey. Give me a look at that pretty pussy."
"Drop 'em, mister. Let's see what kind of a cock you've got hidden under that big belly."
Martin lowered his shorts, stepped out of them to lay bare a flaccid dick. It was short and stubby just like one of his cigars, his pisshole staring straight at me. Curly hairs erupted in disarray, appeared trapped in the wrinkly folds of his cock. His nuts were bumped for-ward by thighs that met in a fleshy mass.
"Now? I need to see your open pussy to spark a little life into this limp dick."
I moved to the sofa, laid myself down and let one leg hang over the edge to open my cunt. My sex lips parted slightly, gave only a seductive hint at the pink luxury awaiting Martin's cock. He moved next to me, stood above me, as his hand massaged soft skin into sturdy flesh. It grew and grew. The wrinkles vanished as his head stretched out to get a better look at me. What was once so short and unimpressive now stood tall and proud. Where did all that meat come from?
With an erect cock in full view, I remained dry as a bone. My pussy just wasn't excited about the impending intrusion. Martin's mass was going to make this more of a chore than a party. I slipped a finger into my hold, worked it around to get my juices started. It didn't work. I was moist, but certainly not ready to accept an unoiled prick. I worked harder, pumped a little faster.
Martin climbed on the sofa. It sank beneath his weight, dropped my ass into a channel rushing way from his knee.
"Keep it open for me Sandy. Christ, I can't get in if you're going to clamp it shut."
I raised my ass from the sofa, my foot pressing up from the floor, my other leg thrown onto a back cushion to keep my pussy from sinking into the upholstery. There was no way I could maintain this awkward position through an entire fuck, especially not with his full weight bearing down on me. I just wanted to get this over with, get him in and get him off.
"That's my girl. Just let me in and then you can relax." He licked his hand and swabbed the head of his dick several times. Then his hands grabbed onto the sofa, his legs stretching back behind him. His cock inched itself closer to my cunt and was lost from sight below a hanging stomach. I felt his balls as they skimmed my lips to lay his throbbing cock atop my crack.
I wasn't ready for him to release his hand, to let himself lay on top of me. His stomach flattened against mine, enveloped me in heat and skin. His hand wrapped around his dick, circled it between my lips until he found the opening of his desire. In it came. Just the tip at first, a parting of the ways, a wetting of the circular object of a man's lust.
I closed around his organ and had to let myself slump into the sofa, his mass too much to hold up. The downward movement drew him in, his cock steadily climbing up my tunnel. His hand withdrew, came to my breast. His other hand clamped onto my other tit and I had him totally on top of me. I sank deeper into the sofa, felt I would be crushed by the body bearing down on me.
In spite of my worry, excitement raced through my body as his cock began to work its magic. He was all the way in, circling his ass to probe the four corners of my box. I finally started to juice, to bathe his cock for a smooth and effortless glide in and out of my hole.
Being pressed into the crevice made by our combined weight, I wrapped my cunt tightly around him, guaranteeing he could not escape. His cock was mine.
He pumped very slowly, his hands gripping my tits, his stomach rolling up and down my own in rippling waves. It wasn't quite as firm as I had first supposed. It was soft and warm, soothingly comfortable.
I left one leg over the back cushion and latched the other onto his ass. With one leg up, I could give him better penetration for our mutual satisfaction.
His mouth attached itself to one soft nipple and he began to thrust his dick in earnest. The heat of his mounting speed wafted a sweaty scent across my nose. I inhaled deeply, captured the musk of love. It stirred my pussy, built a fantasy of sweat-drenched bodies pumping iron in glistening nakedness. I began to pump back, worked my cunt along his shaft in slick strokes, my pussy alive with flowing liquids, stimulated into an effusion of fluids. All worry vanished as my cunt was now wildly wet, drooled around a dick that sloshed in banging infatuation.
"You're swamping my dick, baby! What a hot little cunt you've got!" His mouth rose above my growing nipple, a long string of saliva keeping us connected. "I'm going to pound this pussy into mush!"
"Suck my tit and shut up. Just pump that prick. Faster. Put your weight behind it!"
Martin did just that. His ass rose into the air and dropped, plowed his cock deeper inside my anxious cunt. His mouth returned to my tit, his teeth clamping around my hardened nipple. His ass rose and fell with the driving speed of a man half his age. My pussy accepted every plummeting jab and wanted more, needed a thorough slamming to get it off. I couldn't even feel the beginnings of an orgasm, knew this was going to take a while.
I slipped the heel of my foot into his asscrack, drove it along the sweaty channel to spur him on. He reacted in short, quick stabs at my pussy, his cock jiggling and bouncing between my grasping lips. That started a fire in the pit of my stomach, a fire that would build itself into a raging pyre of flaming orgasm.
Martin left my tit again, panted over my chest in gasping breaths. My demanding pace carried a heavy toll on his lungs, forced his mouth to open in a desperate plea for more air. His stomach fanned my body like a giant bellows and my hands had to know the feel of his flesh. They probed along his sides, felt the smooth shape of his torso,' the soft roundness of being over-weight. It was a turn-on I'd never thought possible. My hands filled with Martin's body, kneaded and massaged his heated flesh in great handfuls of sensuous skin. My hands moved to his chest, surrounded his tits and toyed with his own stiffening nipples. I was surprised by the pleasure obtained by holding onto a pair of tits, my palms sensing resistance from the hard knobs in their centers. I raised my head, wanted to take a nipple into my mouth, but it was impossible. Martin's back was arched too far away for me to taste the hair-circled orbs.
My head dropped as Martin made a tremendous stab at my cunt, his ass clenched, perspiration dripping from his chin.
"Oh!" I blurted. "Do that again!" I don't know what he touched but I wanted him to touch it again. It had sent a wave of pleasure rushing to my head in an explosive outburst of sensitivity. I think he had found an erogenous zone I didn't know I had. Whatever he had accidentally banged into brought my orgasm to the forefront. It leapt from a smoldering fire into a churning volcano.
Martin plowed into me with the same ferocity, but couldn't find the spot. It was one of those once in a lifetime events never to be repeated. I rocked my hips, tried to help him find it, but it just wasn't to be. I settled in, knowing he'd bring me to climax, laid back to enjoy the mound of flesh claiming me totally.
The extreme pleasure invading my pussy made me forget the size of the man on top of me. He was weight-less, my body too lost in joy to feel anything but rapture. The wonderful cock trapped between my legs sinfully erased any other thoughts. Pleasure was all.
"I'm about to cum." Pant. Gasp. "To fill that donut with luscious cream." Moan. Sigh. "To spurt my jism up your fucking box!"
"Do it, Martin!" I yelled, my head rolling from side to side as my climax neared eruption. I silently prayed he kept his rhythm steady through his release, maintained the glorious motion that would spill my juices into the light.
My leg slipped off his drenched ass, hit the floor with a thud. My pussy spread itself wide and Martin came diving in, tumbled into a paradise. His cock buried itself to its base, his balls a smashed wad of rollicking hairs and loosely wrinkled skin. He stopped. Held himself still as if gathering the strength for one last attack.
Then we were off to the races, Martin a steam engine of unending power, his thrusts deepening, penetrating me to the fullest. His face reddened, sweat streamed over his cheeks. .His cock flew over the rails of lust, driving, his fire stoked. Rapidly, frenetically he pounded my pussy, attacked with the vengeance of a scorned lover.
I couldn't move. His deep, heavenly thrusts pinned me to the sofa, bounced my pussy up and down in opposition to his runaway, overwrought penis.
My cunt was wrapped in such excruciating excitement I didn't even feel the beginnings of his release. All of a sudden, the back of my pussy was being hammered by buckshot spraying from a firing rifle. Shot after shot exploded in a salvo of spewing sperm.
Then it was my turn. The heat of his shooting cum was the final inspiration need by my resisting orgasm. Martin kept up his enchanting actions as he covered my cunt in cum. I showered the walls of my pussy, tried to wash them clean, drenched his cock in my own hot cum. My back arched. My mouth opened in a silent scream. My cunt splayed itself around his drooling dick. We weren't fucking any more, we were reaping the benefits. The beautiful benefits of nature's gift.
We both collapsed, luxuriously exhausted. Only then did I know his weight. I struggled beneath him, my chest heaving against his.
"Holy shit!" Martin finally said. "I haven't fucked like that in twenty years. That's some twat you've got there, Sandy."
"Thanks. Now would you mind getting off me?"
"Sorry. Guess I should go on a diet," he said, rolling onto the floor, his stomach rising up like the Pillsbury Doughboy's. His soft cock flopped over his balls, pink and stretched beyond its normal stubby self.
"That was nice," I said, a touch of surprise in my voice. "I didn't think it would be."
"Haven't you heard? Fat is fun," Martin said, slapping his stomach which jiggled and bounced like Jello. "Give me a second and I'm sure I can get it hard again."
"I'm sure you could. Maybe some other time," I said, extracting myself from the sofa. I had to step over his head to reach my clothes and his hands grabbed onto my ankles, planted a foot on each side of his face.
"What a view! I could die just like this."
"And you just might if you don't let me go."
"Come on, Sandy. Pee on me. Please?"
"Martin! I'm not into that kinky stuff."
"Oh, I don't want any crap. Just let your golden shower splash all over me."
"No way," I said, wrenching one foot out of his grasp.
Martin rolled onto his side and watched me dress. He kept mumbling, but I ignored him. I had what I had come for and it was time to leave.
He stopped me when I reached the door. "Remember what I said about Carla. You get her in line or it's your job."
"Since when is my job dependent on your spoiled star?"
"Since now, baby. Do whatever it takes. Just do it."
"And if I don't, I lose my job.
"That's right. And it would take a hell of a lot more than you did today to save it."
I left, my job on the line, Martin now nothing more than a sweaty blob of fat. Period.
CHAPTER THREE
I spent a rather restless night wondering how I was going to contain Carla Cristan. I didn't really know her, had yet to actually work with her. She had had a couple of minor roles in the movies, parts which demanded more from her body than her acting, and that was the extent of my knowledge on her background.
Rehearsals started at ten, but a good stage manager is always early. The place was virtually deserted when I arrived at nine. My assistant, a meek gal fresh from some Midwest college, showed up about five minutes later and filled me in on what had been happening. I was appalled at the childish behavior she described to me. And this from a supposed professional!
"Why didn't you call me!"
"I didn't think it was important. I thought all stars acted that way." The girl looked at me through frightened eyes, her hands clamped tightly to her clip-board.
"From now on, I want a full report. Every day. On every thing. No matter how trivial."
"Yes, ma'am."
The poor thing slinked away, probably thought I was some demon from hell. But I couldn't be bothered with that now. It seemed Carla exploded almost daily over the minutest thing, refused to rehearse, closed herself up in her private room and no one was able to get her out. Carla was going to be a challenge; was already a threat to my job and the advancement of my career.
The cast began to trickle in around 9:30 and thoughts of Carla were pushed aside. Maybe today would go smoothly and I wouldn't have to deal with her at all. I could hope.
We were working with Carla and the chorus today, and even though there was a separate changing room, no one thought anything of stripping down right there in the main rehearsal room. The chorus was mainly women, but the men had been carefully selected for looks and talent. I sort of looked away as the guys shed their clothes down to their dance belts, jock straps with a wide waistband and full pouch, and climbed in their tights. Sort of. They had no modesty, and although not completely naked, their dance belts left their butts in full view. And there were some nice butts to be seen, some muscular and hairless, others roundly fleshed and hairy, all sizes and shapes.
When the director arrived, Joshua "Josh" Leamon, I tried to assure him that I was there to ride herd on Carla. He didn't seem convinced that I could accomplish my goal and just shook his head as he walked away.
I greeted Carla as warmly and sincerely as I could the moment she walked through the door.
"Thank God you're here," Carla said. "Maybe you can get that needle-dick director to listen to reason."
"Problems, Carla?" I asked innocently.
"You don't know the half of it! Just stick around. You'll find out soon enough."
She strutted off to her room her nose in the air, her ass swaying like a porch swing. She was a gorgeous girl and that's what probably landed her the role, knowing Martin as I now intimately did. Be that as it may, at least she was on time. We were off to a good start.
Rehearsals begin promptly at ten and the chorus fidgeted in place, ready to go, waiting for the appearance of our starlet. I sent my assistant to let her know we anxiously awaited her presence.
Carla pranced out in this hot pink leotard that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not only could you see her nipples protrude through the Spandex, you could see exactly how large were the circles surrounding them. But that's not where everyone's attention was focused. All eyes, male and female alike, zeroed in on her box. The Spandex crept right up between her lips, clung to her pussy like Saran Wrap. It stretched around her mound of hair, then dove right up her snatch to caress the roundness of her womanhood, to display what is best left covered to pique a man's curiosity.
Today's rehearsal centered around Gypsy Rose Lee, our Carla, so I didn't expect any problems. I assumed by the way she dressed that she needed to be the only focus of attention, and the scenes today were hers. The first half hour ran smoothly.
Then we hit the section where Gypsy is supposed to be travelling from city to city, playing theater after theater. It's accomplished through the use of different curtains to signify different locations. It's a frantic time for Carla because of all the costume changes, but the staging is actually pretty simple. However, Carla's mind refused to grasp the concept. An argument quickly developed between actress and director.
I followed Carla as she stormed out, a door slammed into my face at journey's end.
"Carla. Let's talk. Please let me in.
The door jerked open. "You can talk, but it ain't gonna do no fucking good.
Her dressing room was loaded with stuffed animals, from tiny teddy bears to a giant panda that sat in one corner. Carla plunked herself down in front of her makeup mirror and clung to a black and brown, cuddly toy racoon. She rocked back and forth hopefully working off her anger, har hand forcefully petting the toy in savage strokes. Her face was skewed into a displeased pout.
I thought it best not to sit until invited, so I stood in the center of the room "What's the problem?"
"That fucking director. Lemon Leamon! He hates me!"
"Josh doesn't hate you. He's trying to make you a star. To get the best performance from you he possibly can. He's doing it for your own good." I wasn't even convincing myself, but I hoped she bought it.
"My ass! He's too busy staring at my tits to care about what I'm doing."
"It's hard not to when you're dressed like that."
"Fine! Now you're riding my ass, too! Maybe I should just waltz out there buck naked and get it over with. Let them all get a good, long look!"
The racoon flew into the air. Carla popped out of her chair. She kicked her shoes off and the leotard peeled away from her lightly tanned skin.
"There! Tits and pussy on parade," she said, prancing around the room.
From the neck down, we could have been twins. It was like looking into a mirror, except Carla had a mole just above her right hip. Otherwise, it would appear we were identical.
Don't be silly, Carla. Put your clothes back on."
"No." An odd look crossed her face. "They told me you were fit for my costumes. I wanna see how close we really are. Show me."
"What? You want me to undress?"
"Why not? We're both girls, aren't we?"
Will that get you into your clothes and back to the rehearsal?"
"Maybe."
I stared at her, not believing what she was asking. This was incredibly stupid. But if it would get her back to work, why not? I undressed quickly, just to get the whole thing over with, and soon had everything on display. Her eyes looked me over, scanned me from tits to toenails.
She pushed me back into the arms of a panda and I sprawled within its furry embrace. I was stunned to say the least, didn't understand her action. Shock silenced my protest.
"Pretty pussy, but not as pretty as mine," she declared, her hands between her legs to part her hair in order to show me her soft, pink interior. "Can you match that?"
"I'm not even going to try. This is silly," I said, trying to push away from the plush bear.
Carla dropped between my legs, pushed me back into the bear, then spread my knees further apart. She stared at my cunt, her eyes hungry, her tongue circling her barely parted lips. Her head dove into my crotch.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked in amazement, forcing her shoulders back, raising her head from my surprised pussy.
"You want me to rehearse? Then lay back and enjoy."
What could I do? I had to get her back to work, my job depended on it. I flopped down into soft fur and let whatever was going to happen, happen. Sex seemed to be getting me what I wanted, so sex it would be. I closed my eyes and braced myself for Carla's lovemaking.
She rushed to kiss me, her tongue moistening my lips before spreading them. She worked my slit until it began to slow, my clit growing against her tongue, my juices wetting my interior to accept her loving probes. Her tongue pressed against my clenched hole, but she did not enter, remained within the fleshy folds of my exterior, wetting me, drooling between my full, curving sex lips.
When she pulled away, my eyes opened to ford out what she had in mind. Her hands worked her own pussy in fevered jabs, her forgers buried deeply within her mound. Her hair glistened with dew. Her thighs squeezed around her box as her hands reached beneath the panda. A broad smile lit up her face when she produced the object of her search. She fondled the double-headed dildo of enormous length and girth. Monster heads bobbed at each end, tapered like the real thing. Her hands wiped her box and spread glistening liquids over each of the gigantic dong heads.
"No fucking way!" I said, my frightened pussy clamping shut. The thing was too big for any woman to handle, I was sure of it.
"Just take the tip, if you're that much of a wimp. Trust me. I won't shove in any more than you can handle."
I eyed the rubber cock with a strange sense of adventure. It made my vibrator look like a toothpick and hung before me in exquisite detail, veins and all. Carla had already worked one end into her cunt, the head all but disappearing up her slit. It sat with its corona stretching her hole tightly around its mighty mass. She made it look so effortless, so painless.
Her hand held the dildo near the other end, aimed the pointed head at my snatch. My hands parted my lips in nervous hesitation, trembling as the rubber prod neared my opening. What a price to pay for one's art!
The first touch shot fear to my brain. It was cold and hard. The tip inched in its entry. I stretched for it, the feel almost normal. Carla let it rest there, allowed me the decision to take it if I wanted it. The thrill of the moment told me I could handle a little more so I placed my hand upon the shaft, guided it in a bit at a time. I opened for it, drew it in in tiny nibbles until I felt my cunt expand to what I knew was a comfortable limit. I had taken almost the entire head and looked away, my mind refusing to accept that amount of cock within my grip.
Carla twisted the dick between us, rolled it around our connected pussies. My waters returned, bathed the cock in steaming warmth. Shock raced up from my cunt as the head slipped fully in, the mass sufficiently greased to glide up without resistance. It filled my cuntal pas-sage with pleasure. Fear vanished, evaporated in a captivating sense of fullness. The twisting continued, rubbed the walls of my pussy into a flowing rush of sudden, urgent lust. I had taken the head and the accomplishment brought a smile to my lips. The challenge had been successfully met.
Carla released the dong, braced herself on the arms of the panda, and stretched her legs out behind her. I let go as well and glued my eyes onto the pink meat clasped firmly between us. I locked my muscles around the head, kept it from making further entry. Meanwhile, Carla shimmied her cunt farther and farther along the wide and mammoth dildo. The thing must have reached up to her stomach before she began to pull off it. It gleamed in her retreat, her honey oiling it up for a smooth ride. Down she came again, her mouth open in a steady moan of pleasurable delight.
She began to fuck the thing for real, my pussy keeping it steady for her, providing the resistance necessary to allow her the deepest penetration. She pumped herself with increasing fury, driving her box up and down the mighty dong, her pussy stretching around the hard girth.
My cunt began to ache as the pressure against my tightened muscles increased. The head wobbled slightly with each downward thrust, pulled against me with Carla's upward glides. I couldn't hold it. My muscles gave way on a particularly rapid spiraling of Carla's cunt. The dildo shot up my pussy, slammed into the back of my cunt with a powerful force. I screamed, but had the thing entirely within me.
Carla must have clamped down the jaws of her snatch because I was suddenly being fucked. My hole caved in with each inward drive, curled back on itself, then stretched out along the outward pull. But my fiery liquids soon had the shaft totally lubricated and it slipped in and out of me with surprising ease. The elasticity of my pussy sent pride racing to my chest.
"Cum with me, Sandy," Carla said," raise yourself up when I come down."
She set up a moderately paced rhythm so we could both enjoy a deep and steady fuck. To begin with. To start us on the journey to climax.
My head rolled in amazed enjoyment. I couldn't believe I was taking all this meat up my drooling pussy and extracting such extreme satisfaction from a hunk of rubber. Pride increased and astonishment fled as I relished the wonderful stretch of my cunt, as I experienced the flexibility of my flesh.
Carla panted and moaned as she picked up the pace, rocking the dildo in zestful thrusts. Her driving strokes threatened to plow the thing right into the tender opening of my uterus. I tightened around it in an attempt to halt its progress, refusing any deeper penetration.
Luckily for me, Carla eased up as her body quivered and shook. Her bursting orgasm trickled out of her slit, ran down the length of the shaft, and dripped between my legs. Her arms trembled and her head bobbed loosely on a neck no longer able to support it. Still she managed to maintain a steady maneuvering of the dildo within my pussy, slower, a gentle glide along my swamped tunnel. She made love to my cunt instead of fucking it.
I had concentrated so hard on the wonderment of acceptance that I had entirely forgotten about my own orgasm. So many new and powerful sensations scurried throughout my body that my orgasm got lost in the confusion. It swam somewhere inside me but I couldn't separate it from the other enchanting delights laying claim to my awareness. My box was on fue, I felt that. My hips had fallen into an unguided motion of grasping strokes. My legs opened and closed, parted to receive, shut to capture.
There was a tingle travelling over my skin that raised goose bumps on my excited flesh. I hardly felt the hardening of my nipples as my tits gently swayed from side to side as my body rocked to the rhythm of Carla's expert jabs. There was too much to sort out so I didn't even try.
With Carla's release came a change in tactics. She latched onto the dildo and knelt between my legs, her elbows pressing my knees outward. One hand came to my clit, played and massaged it. She worked the false cock like a real one, twisted and turned as well as pumped.
I was suddenly aware of my impending release. It dominated me, shot my cunt into the air as my ass tightened in clenching fascination. I pumped my pussy as hard as Carla pumped the dildo. Faster and faster, more furious became my desire to swamp the rubber in the sweet fluids from a bombastic eruption.
"Fuck me!" I yelled. "Faster. Harder. Oh, God! I'm so fucking close!"
My legs buckled beneath this heavenly hammering and I collapsed into the panda, my breath a panting plea, my mind gone, my body consumed by insatiable needs. I wanted, had to have, more and more of this indestructible instrument of selflove.
My flesh became a quivering mass of overstimulated, ravenous desire. I escaped reality and nothing could satisfy me, not even this beautiful creature ravaging my cunt. I had taken it, conquered my fear, repressed any thought of pain, as I willingly stretched and stretched to accommodate this grand intruder. My hips pounded wildly, rakishly gobbled up greater and greater amounts of rampaging rubber.
With Carla's hand on my clit, with my own hands flying to my aching tits, with a giant dildo ravishing my cunt, I let go with an orgasm of monumental proportions. Then screamed and screamed as I came. My body convulsed and contorted around the object of my joy. My crack oozed its overflow. My hands clamped around my tits and squeezed with every ounce of strength remaining in my weakened arms. My legs jerked in spasmodic response to a divine discharge. I rocked and rolled, totally engulfed in sublime rapture.
Carla extracted the dildo with a loud pop, my cunt slapping shut behind it in a wet, gurgling slam. I couldn't move, didn't want to, my body paralyzed. I was in love with the dildo!
"Wow!" Carla said. "And I thought I came good!"
She tossed the dildo aside and lowered her head into my crotch. My sensitive pussy quivered as she licked me dry, a new set of sensations screaming in my ears. My hips rocked and tried to pull away, tried to remove the tingling tickle emanating from my soppy snatch. Carla stayed with me, kept her tongue attached to-my twat. Her licking steered my mind into sheer madness, the sensitivity too much to bear.
"Stop!" I yelled. "Please! I can't stand it!"
Carla pulled away just at the moment I was convinced I would never recover. My body lay limply within the arms of the panda, my back caressed by fuzzy comfort.
"All right," Carla said, standing between my legs," I give him one more chance. But if that fucking director lays into me one more time ... " She turned away without finishing her threat. The supple cheeks of her ass rose and fell as she marched over to her leotard, then bent over to expose her hairy crack, the mound of her pussy keeping her leg slightly separated.
"Ug, Carla dear," I began, struggling to find just the right words," don't you think you should wear something else? Something a little less ... revealing? Maybe?"
"You're right. Get that asshole less interested in my tits. He might even treat me as a person. I doubt it, though."
"It's worth a try," I agreed, pushing myself away from the stuffed animal. I wobbled over to my clothes, my legs still weak, my pussy sore from its tremendous and glorious thumping.
Everyone awaited our return. We were met with knowing, lascivious grins and I felt my face turn several shades of red. But the encounter had been beneficial in more ways than one. Not only had I experienced one of the greatest orgasms in history, Carla sailed through the balance of the rehearsal without incident. My job felt a little more secure at the end of the day.
CHAPTER FOUR
I rushed out of the rehearsal, needing to get over to the scene shop. They had promised that all of the scenery would be completed today. I hoped it was because the painters had to begin tomorrow if they were to finish the set on time.
I arrived as the guys were cleaning up the shop, the scenery indeed completed. That was one less worry to contend with and the construction crew chief, Joe Landers, had already notified the scenic designer that all was ready for the painters. My tight schedule was getting back on track and should stay there, barring any farther disruptions from Carla.
With their work complete, Joe announced a spaghetti party at his place and invited me to join them. With no plans for the evening, I gladly accepted, welcomed the chance to relax and forget about the problems in mounting a production for Broadway.
Joe lived within walking distance of the shop and the leisurely stroll reminded me why I loved New York so. September is one of the nicest months in the city, warm without the oppressive heat of August. The air is tinged with the fragrance of fall and a sweater is all you need to keep you cozy and comfortable.
But it is the streets themselves that kindle my enjoyment, streets alive with people and traffic, with the sounds and smells of diversified lives, with the rush and hustle that gives the city its pounding heartbeat. New York never sleeps, offers endless variety if you're willing to look for it. It makes your pulse quicken. I've lived here for four years and the fascination has yet to wear off. I hope it never does.
Joe opened his apartment door to the heady smells of simmering spaghetti sauce. His roommate, Brian, tended a huge pot of rich, red sauce that had been bubbling all day long. The smell was enticing, promised a spicy feast for the palate.
Garlic flared my nostrils as the first batch of golden a bread emerged from the oven.
"There's beer and wine in the refrigerator," Joe announced to the crowd," just help yourself. We'll eat in a few minutes. Sandy, I don't think you've met my roommate, Brian Nykonos."
"Hi, Brian. It smells divine!"
"I'd shake hands, but I'm a little busy," Brian said, brushing garlic butter up an down the length of a halved loaf of French bread. "Joe, stir the spaghetti before it sticks."
The kitchen was rather crowded with Joe and Brian at the stove and everyone else grabbing beer out of the fridge, so I retreated to the living room. The apartment was fairly large, for New York, and people mingled and sprawled all over the place. It would take a lot of spaghetti to feed this crew!
"Attention everyone. There's only room for eight at the table," Joe instructed," so everyone else has to lap it. There's TV trays in that corner, and a bunch of boards over there to help you steady your plate. Everything's informal here, so just line up in the kitchen."
There was a mad rush and a long line was quick to form. Joe came over to me, and said," The ladies get the table if they want, along with Brian and me. Go on and claim your place. If you can wait, I'll bring your plate in later."
"Thanks. I'm in no hurry." I knew Joe to be a real gentleman, even if his appearance said otherwise. He had a scraggly beard and his hair was pulled back in a pony tail which made him look a bit scruffy. You'd never guess his intelligence by the first impression. He looked more like a skinny biker than an intellectual, his rough exterior masking his polite and sensitive nature.
I didn't know anything about Brian, and assumed his name was Greek. I watched him serve through the open door between the dining room and the kitchen, and decided he was definitely Greek. He had jet black hair and a thick mustache which lounged above full lips. His face was very round and full, as was his butt. His tight jeans hugged his mounds and the back seam spread his cheeks apart. The hair on his arms indicated that he was probably hirsute all over. Joe, on the other hand, was most likely a hairless wonder if his straggly beard was any indication.
And so I passed my time at the table, mentally strip-ping away the clothes of whomever happened to pass by. An enjoyable diversion.
Two other girls joined me, then three guys. They talked a lot of shop talk so I distanced myself from them, preferring to push all thoughts of the show aside, at least for tonight. Joe and Brian finally joined the table, my plate in hand.
"There's cheese and red pepper, salt and garlic. Dive in," Joe said.
Steam rose up from the plate in heavenly waves of Italian aroma. I sprinkled Parmesan cheese and did as instructed, dove in to a mound of pasta and succulent sauce. I twirled my fork and drooled as it neared my mouth.
"Oh, Brian," I sighed," where did you learn to cook like this?"
"Mama had four boys."
"Bless your mama! This is scrumptious."
'There's more," he said, his eyes smiling at me. He took a hunk of garlic bread, placed it between snow white teeth, and ripped. His eyes never left me, drew me into their black centers. His lips closed around the captured morsel, his tongue parting them in a moisture-laden lick before setting them into a seductive chewing motion, his eyes savoring the flavor.
Heat claimed my body. Possibly from the spicy sauce, more likely from the erotic message issuing from Brian's lips. I turned my attention back to my pasta, ate without looking at Brian. I was about to speak to Joe when I noticed he was doing the same thing!
A fork full of wrapped, dripping spaghetti lounged just in front of his mouth. His lips parted, opened his jaw wide to display his tongue provocatively skimming his lower teeth. The fork inched closer, Joe's eyes locked on mine. It entered and his lips caressed the metal, slid along the tines as it was slowly extracted. His eyes narrowed to thin slits of enticing pleasure.
My heat rose. My head returned to my place. Excitement made it hard to eat. The others at the table continued their conversations, ignored us, left the three of us alone to pursue our own entertainment.
"Are you an actress?" Brian asked.
"No," I chuckled. "I'm the stage manager."
"You have the looks and the body. You should be an actress." He ate, and talked, and looked at me with a face that screamed," I want you."
"I can't sing," I said, staring into his dark eyes.
"Then don't do musicals," he stated politely, his eyes returning my stare.
"I'm afraid my acting isn't so hot either. Besides, I like my job." I had to force my eyes away. A moment longer and I'd have melted to the floor.
"And she's a good one," Joe added. "I heard about your little escapade with Carla today."
"Oh, Lord! Does the whole world know?" I wanted to sink into my chair, to evaporate into nothingness. Here I was making eyes at these guys, accepting their looks for lust, and they probably thought I was a dyke. I wanted to die on the spot.
"Not the whole world," Joe said. "Just those of us who count. We all do things we don't necessarily want to. Take me, for instance. I had to suck Martin's stubby little dick to get my job."
"You've never sucked my dick," Brian chimed in.
"You've never had a job to offer me."
"Wait a minute. Are you two ... "
"No fucking way," they both said emphatically.
Joe looked almost hurt as he said," You do what you gotta do to get ahead. You give a guy a blow job and forget about it. It's not like it's going to kill you or anything. Suck, suck, gurgle, spit or swallow and it's done. You've got your job and get on with your life."
"You make it sound so natural, like it happens all the time," I said, a little shocked.
"It does. That's like in the theater, baby."
"Glad I'm an architect," Brian said. "You want some more?"
"No, thanks. I'm full. This conversation is all very interesting, but if we don't get started on these dishes, we'll be here until midnight."
"You sit tight. Joe and I can handle it."
"I want to help. I want to pay for my meal."
"There's plenty of time to pay later." Brian winked and rose up from the table.
I grabbed my plate and followed his bouncing butt into the kitchen. "I insist."
"Have it your way."
"I intend to." I returned his earlier wink.
"No orgies in the kitchen," Joe said behind me. "Plates and silverware in the dishwasher, pots and pans in the sink."
I rinsed plates as Joe and Brian emptied pots and pans of their contents, placed the leftovers into storage containers in the fridge.
There was a steady stream of people depositing dirty dishes and bidding their farewells. This group appeared to be a real eat and run bunch. Very shortly, the apartment was drained of extra bodies and only we three remained in the rubble of supper.
"Enough is enough," Brian proclaimed," the dishwasher's full, the food is put away, and that pot has to soak. Grab a glass, I'll get the wine. Meet you on the sofa.
Joe and I headed for the living room. Brian emerged from the kitchen a moment later with the question," Everyone gone?"
"Gone, but not forgotten," Joe said, pointing to a stack of dirty dishes on the other side of the room.
"Later," Brian said, flopping down on the sofa, placing me between the two roommates. He opened the wine and poured. "A toast. To friendship and love."
Our glasses clinked in the eerie silence. It had been so noisy that the quiet seemed somehow wrong.
"God, it's hot in here!" Brian stood, reached for the neck of his sweat shirt, then peeled it over his head. I had been right about his hairiness. His chest was covered in a thick, black blanket, his rounded stomach lovingly caressed by short hairs that crashed in a heavy line down its center. "That's better. Aw, what the hell!" He slipped out of his deck shoes, he wasn't wearing socks, and unbuckled his belt.
I took a quick gulp of wine as I watched him unsnap his pants and lower his zipper. Blackness greeted my eyes and I didn't think he was wearing underwear. Finally, a blue waistband appeared on his low-riding, bikini briefs. His jeans slid from his legs as he raised each in turn to pull them off by the cuffs. He folded them on top of his sweat shirt and stood with his crotch at eye level His briefs were fully packed.
"That's a little forward, don't you think roomie?" Joe admonished.
"Sandy doesn't mind, do you, Sandy?"
"Uh, uh, no. Not at all," I forced through dry lips. I raised my glass for another long gulp, as Brian sat next to me, his cock repositioning itself for comfort.
"Besides, Joe, I left my shorts on. That's more than we usually wear around here. You see, we can't control the heat in this building, and it gets pretty fucking hot at times. With just the two of us here, we're used to running around bare-assed and swinging."
"Gee, I'd hate to think I was making you uncomfortable." More wine. I emptied the glass and held it out for more. My pussy was on fire and needed a thorough dousing. It was hot in the apartment, there was no denying that, but I had thought it was me, my own libido running rampant.
"Guess we got the go ahead," Joe said, standing, unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric parted to expose a smooth, hairless chest, just as I had surmised. Joe didn't stop with his top either. He removed his work boots and socks, then opened his fly. Soft, brown hair popped out between the teeth of his zipper, surrounded a smooths lab of whit skin. Joe obviously did not wear underwear.
Brian poured me more wine as I eyed Joe's pants slipping down his slender legs. Joe's cock dangled, a pale strip of uncut meat, his foreskin seductively closed around a hidden head.
Brian raised up next tome, lifted himself from the sofa to remove his briefs. A deeply browned dick emerged, cut, its huge head staring at me from the darkness. His balls hugged his body as the briefs slid over his feet and Joe returned to the sofa.
My heart pounded, my head swam in voyeuristic delight. I looked from cut to uncut cock, from the black forest of one to the sandy beach of the other. They were like night and day. Brian had the dark, exotic look of a foreigner, while Joe had the light, American look of a homespun country boy.
"Aren't you hot?" Brian asked, his hand slipping beneath my sweater to rest on my stomach.
"A little." My voice was weak, shaky.
"Shouldn't you do something about that?" Joe asked, his hand joining Brian's.
"Maybe." My voice trembled with excitement.
Their hands sidled up my sides, bunched my sweater beneath my arms, atop my breasts. I leaned forward to place my glass upon the coffee table and a swift hand unclasped my bra. They raised the sweater above my head and off my arms. I didn't have time to enjoy the fascination in their eyes from viewing veiled breasts before my bra was in my lap. They each claimed a breast, their hands squeezing my nipples into their descending mouths. Their hot lips almost made me swoon. I melted into the back of the sofa, my crotch twisting and turning beneath me.
Brian was first to release me. "Nice tit. Soft and supple."
"With a nipple that grows powerfully firm," Joe said, raising his face and lowering his hand. Both hands fumbled with the snap on my jeans and the buttons in my crotch. I lifted my ass from the sofa and both jeans and panties quickly raced to my ankles.
Brian and Joe stared at each other. "Sorry, guys," I said," only one to a customer." I didn't care which of them claimed my pussy, only that one of them would. They seemed unaware of how to solve the dilemma. I took matters into my own hands.
I got up from the sofa and stripped myself the rest of the way. Both of them massaged their dicks into glorious erection, Brian's muscular and throbbing, Joe's sensuous with its head half free.
"All right, guys, we're going to have fun. Brian, on your back. Joe, come over here in front of me." Taking command was a real rush, a turn-on that opened the faucet in my cunt.
With Brian stretched out on the sofa, I positioned myself on top of him, placed my pussy over his mouth, my nipples brushing his furry stomach.
"Well, well" Joe said," You know what you're doing."
"You can count on it," I laughed. "I want you both at once." This morning's encounter with the giant dildo had made me horny and now I was about to satisfy that lust. I'd seldom had two cocks at the same time, but I approached the possibility without fear, without even the slightest hesitation. I was about to reap a third benefit from Carla's Iesbo outburst.
Joe left us and a wave of disappointment flashed through me. But I couldn't dwell on it because Brian was working his mouth, pressing his lips and face between my parting lips. His hand raised his giant tool into the air and positioned it for me. I captured it instantly, wrapping my mouth around his flaming head. He jabbed it in, driving it home in one, swift stab.
"Oh!" I cried. "That was quick!"
"But only the half of it," Brian moaned, pulling back before plowing upward again. "Don't raise up, baby. Suck on my dick. Take it all."
I lowered on to him, sliding easily along his thick shaft. I didn't think I'd ever reach bottom, down and down I came, my mouth stretching to accommodate his girth, my muscles sucking on his head, drawing him ever inward. I finally felt his hair tickle my face, his nuts pressed firmly against my chin. I began to doubt my abilities, the same fullness experienced this morning returning to my desirous brain.
Joe returned, his proud prick already glistening, wobbling back and forth above sagging nuts as he walked.
"Thought I'd left you?" he laughed easily.
He stood in front of the sofa, pointing his knob at me. My tits smashed into fur, flattened against a soft chest. Joe's hand spread KY on my cunt and on Brian's cock. I kept Brian within me as Joe worked in one finger. I accepted it easily, chewed on it in loving nibbles.
"Pull back, Brian. Let me take a look at that first."
Brian obliged, my pussy gliding along his meat until I held just his head within my tight hold. Joe's bare head touched my already eager, hungry mouth slowly, feeding me his cock in small doses. I circled my lips to take it inside, to draw it up into my cheeks.
"I don't think I'm going to like this very much," Brian said. "I'm just not into sharing my ladies with other dicks. Joe, get your nuts out of here."
"And just what the fuck am I supposed to do with 'em? Stick 'em up my ass?"
"Wherever they fit! Just get 'em off."
"I'm trying to."
"Enough!" I shouted. "Brian, stop whimpering and fuck me. You, too, Joe."
"Together or separate?"
"Whichever feels best." I was tired of talk and wanted to get on with it. My cunt pounded, anxiously awaited the arrival of that powerful dong fully up my channel. I didn't wait for a decision that might never come. I skewered pussy down on it at once. Luckily, they settled themselves in position, let me guide their fastened cocks deep in my hungry cunt and mouth.
I encountered the first pangs of ecstacy when my pussy met the base of that pulsing prick. I held myself still, let the thing settle as I relaxed my muscles, allowed my flesh to become accustomed to its new positioning. It only took a second before pleasure began again.
Joe back out, slid his long organ between my lips, stopped when his head bumped into the back of my mouth. The walls of my pussy closed around Brian's cock, wrapped it in moistened succulence. Joe began the return trip as Brian backed out. They meant to fuck me in opposition.
"Oh, God!" It was Brian's turn to cry out. "God, that's hot! Jesus Christ, Joe, you fucking came in my chick! This isn't right."
"Shut ... up. Don't be ... a ... whimp!" I could barely talk through the tremendous pounding, my words only corning on each quick exhale. "Just ... fuck!"
Even though Joe had released himself, he kept up the pace, remained hard within me. I had no idea how close Brian might be, didn't care as long as he got me off. I was getting closer, the heat having risen considerably since Joe's explosion of cum which now swirled within my mouth.
All of a sudden, I knew where Joe's hands were. They dove into my asscrack, spread my cheeks and began to fondle my buns. One hand pulled a fleshy mound while the other snaked up and down my parted crack, tickled my flesh with probing fingertips. If I hadn't been lost in too many other sensations, I'm sure I would have laughed from the playful manipulation.
But too many other things were happening, and every-thing seemed to be mounting at once. Brian's mammoth monster began to twitch and jerk. My pussy was weeping buckets. My tits ached. My head swam in darkness. My tongue raced around my mouth, seeking desperate escape from the overwhelming temperature of my body.
Then everything stopped. My back arched, pressed my box firmly down the glued together dicks so firmly held within its clamping grip. My body froze. My breath came in a rapid succession of tiny bursts. Paralysis left me just before the flood gates opened. My shoulders slumped. My chin slammed into my chest. My arms and legs wobbled.
Brian tried to maintain momentum, but Joe must have known what was happening. He didn't even attempt to remove his spent dick. He just let it lie there and enjoy.
My pussy quickly filled with my sumptuous orgasm, stroke after glorious stroke of streaming honey. But it had nowhere to go, was held by the cockhead fully up my cunt. It tried to break free with erupting speed, had to settle for lapping around the intruder, inching itself along the mighty shaft of simmering pleasure. The searing, burning liquids shot fire to my brain, quivering like a suppressed earthquake.
I thought I'd faint as Brian spewed his cum into my already too full cunt. His own fire mingled with mine, and I knew I could hold no more.
"Fuck!" Brian screamed. "What's happening? Oh, Lord! Can we take this?"
My pussy was writhing. I had no control over it as it rocked and quaked and jiggled my entire body in spasmodic convulsions. My arms and legs gave out beneath me. I flopped on Brian like a fish out of water.
"Christ, Sandy, what's wrong?" Brian asked, excitement alive in his voice. He quickly extracted his dick and rolled off the sofa.
Joe knelt at the end as I fell on my back, a relieving sigh clearing my head. I suddenly felt empty. I propped myself up on my elbows and stared into my crotch. My pussy oozed the juices of combined orgasms. My breath slowly returned to normal.
"Are you okay?" Brian asked tentatively.
"Divine!"
"That was a little bit of heaven," Joe said, his hand pulling his loose skin over the head of his cock to remove the last drops of cum that hadn't shot into my mouth. "Yeah, I guess so. My pussy will never be the same."
"Nor will my nuts. Thanks to you."
"God, Brian, I never knew you were such a lover. So you let your balls get cleaned out. Big fucking deal. You'll get over it."
"I doubt it."
"Stop it. Both of you. I promise not to say anything about this. No one else will ever know." I got up from the sofa and headed for the bathroom to clean myself up. I let them work it out between them.
They remained naked on the sofa when I rejoined them, all smiles and smirks, so assumed they had reached some sort of agreement. "Thanks for dinner, guys. And--"
"You're welcome to spend the night," Joe offered.
"Thanks, but one is enough for this girl." I got dressed and left with an open invitation to return whenever I wanted.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rumor had it that a couple of the angels, those people who back the show with their money, were going to appear at rehearsal today. I decided to dress a little more professionally, selecting a white blouse with a big floppy bow at the neck and a full, navy blue skirt. I topped it off with a matching, navy blue, summer-weight jacket. Smart, and conservatively stylish.
Everyone at the rehearsal greeted me with compliments and shocked looks. There was even a wolf whistle or two. They were so used to seeing me in jeans, they were taken completely by surprise.
The morning was spent reviewing the refining the dance number between the characters Tulsa and Gypsy. Tulsa was played by Blayne Billings, one of the chorus boys with a fleshy, hair-covered butt. His light brown hair and green eyes dominated his clean shaven, boy-next-door good looks. I'd been watching him, trying to decide if he was gay or straight. He was so charmingly handsome, he could have easily gone either way. I think one of the wolf whistles had come from his lips and assumed him straight, my eyes scanning him with keener interest.
I kept my fingers crossed that the rehearsal would run smoothly and Carla wouldn't throw one of her temper tantrums. As this was a review and not a learning session Carla breezed right through.
Throughout the morning, Blayne played everything to me, his audience. At least I presumed that's what he was doing at the time. When we broke for lunch, his intentions turned out to be more than expected.
"Sandy, wait up," Blayne yelled, a towel slung around his neck to catch the perspiration dripping form his face. "A couple of us are going over to The Joint for lunch. Will you join us?"
His green eyes sparkled and his beckoning smile deepened the dimples in his cheeks. His invitation was hard to resist. The angels hadn't shown up and they certainly wouldn't at lunch time, so there was no reason to hang around the hall.
"I'd love to."
"Great. Give me a minute to change and clean up a bit and we're off."
Blayne sauntered off towards his clothes, peeling his leotard from his broad shoulders. I watched him remove his tights, eager for another look at his bare buns. His morning workout plastered the hairs flat against his smooth ass as the black tights revealed white skin. I bit my lower lip as he pulled off his dance belt, stripped himself in front of me and everyone else in the room.
He kept his back to me. My pussy begged him to turn around, to let me get a look at his manhood. He didn't turn and didn't stand up before stepping into his under-wear. The mirror he faced only showed me a dark crotch, and his thighs never parted to allow me a glance between his legs. The rise of his underwear was swift, only offering me a fleeting glimpse of white skin nestled in a mound of darkness, too quick to even guess at the size of his cock. With his beautiful buns now covered, with hopes of seeing his dick fading into the distance, I let out a disappointed sigh.
When he stood up to don his shirt, he faced the mirror and I discovered he was one of those guys who was hairy only from the waist down. His chest was almost hairless except for a sparse, broad based triangle that pointed between his pecs. The hair began again just below his navel, a thin line that I assumed exploded once below his waistline. But I wasn't going to find out today.
Blayne headed for the bathroom and I straightened my skirt over my pounding pussy, allowed my hand a quick jab between my legs in a vain attempt to calm myself. But my cunt had a mind of its own, remained locked on Blayne's naked image. Desire grew. My mind suddenly flung itself in the gutter and I imagined Blayne doing all sorts of wonderfully nasty things to my body. But I had to pull myself back to reality or I'd never make it through lunch. And that's all that had been offered.
Blayne emerged from the bathroom, his face dry, his hair combed, and hooked his arm in mine. "Ready?"
"For anything."
Blayne just chuckled as we met the rest of the group and headed for The Joint. The Joint was more bar than restaurant, but they had some of the best sandwiches around at lunch time. At night, the place was alive with strippers and dirty old men (some dirty young men, too). But by day, it was more of a hangout for the locals and the theatrical types who happened to be in various rehearsals at the moment.
The place was dimly lit and we all crowded into a booth, one of those half circle kinds, fully padded and covered in red plastic to simulate leather. It was a tight fit and Blayne's body was firmly pressed into mine. I had no idea who sat on my other side, the focus of my attention squarely on Blayne.
The place was full, unusually so, and we soon learned the reason why. A sexy female voice floated through the speaker system, announced the beginning of the lingerie show. A steady stream of bosomy young ladies strutted across the stage and into the audience. They went from table to table, seductively describing their attire, playing the lights to best advantage.
We gave our orders to the waitress and settled back to watch the show. While gazing upon an intriguing, black lace negligee I felt a hand slip onto my knee. I looked at Blayne, but his eyes were locked on the lace, a grin locked on his lips. My first thought was to politely remove his hand, but I was curious to know exactly how far this would go. I left it where it was, tried to ignore it, but my cunt would have none of that. It reacted positively at his first touch.
"Do you like that?" Blayne asked, his eyes still on the model.
"It's nice. As far as it goes."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a tad low," I said, watching for Blayne's reaction. Finding none, I added," The hemline. It should be raised, expose a little more leg to increase the level of desire in both wearer and viewer."
Blayne took the hint, skimmed his hand up my pantyhose to raise the hem of my skirt to mid-thigh.
"Good point. I see what you mean," Blayne said, his hand gently squeezing my leg, his eyes following the model's swinging hips as she left the table.
The next model wore a more risque outfit, something to tantalize and provoke. Everything was done in pink with white lace trim. Her bra lifted and separated her ample breasts as though offering them on a silver platter. Yet Blayne's eyes lounged elsewhere. Her black, net stockings were secured by a pink garter belt above ruffle panties. The outfit combined an aura of innocence with torrid temptress devilry. Blayne must have like what he saw because his hand clinked up my leg like an inching spider, nearing my hot, tingling cunt.
"Do you ever wear garter belts?" Blayne asked, his voice deep and husky, his mind apparently dwelling in some erotic fantasy.
"No. They're uncomfortable and impractical for daily wear." What a stupid thing to say. That would never continue the seduction so pleasantly underway. I quickly added," They're for private showing. I could never parade around in public like that. That model has a lot more guts than I have. Why don't you give the lady a hand."
Blayne turned to face me as his hand travelled to the top of my leg, bunched my skirt across my lap. I suddenly became aware of the others at the table, felt exposed. I looked around but they all seemed lost in their own conversations or glued their eyes onto the model. I relaxed as thoughts of Blayne and I blurred the rest of the room, and my pussy slipped closer to his fingers.
Just as his hand pressed nylon between my sex lips, our food arrived. His hand vacated my snatch, returned to the table, left my pussy open and panting.
I was halfway through my pastrami on rye when his hand returned. The models came and went but I barely saw what they wore, my mind holding his touch in sweet memory. His hand returned my thoughts to the now, to life in all its unfolding adventure.
His right hand flew to my stomach, sought the top of my pantyhose, while his left held his sandwich. I stretched myself up to help him. He was swiftly inside both nylons and panties, gliding smoothly down to the object of his desire.
"How's your meat?" I asked to keep up the ruse of friendly conversation.
"Hard. Like a rock. Tough. Like a pounding boxer." He savagely bit into his sandwich, his forgers plowing into my box to part my lips. "Hows yours?"
"Hot. Like a steaming volcano. Tender. Like a fresh orchid."
"I love orchids. I love their smell, the gentle way they open to let you see their intimate parts, their feel against my skin. Orchids. The stamen is the best part," he said, his fingers pressed firmly against my clit.
His pressure raised me from my seat. His hand stretched out the fabric between my legs and it slipped around my butt. The booth was cold against my bare ass as I settled in to enjoy Blayne's manipulation of my delicate flower.
His hand swiftly returned to my bare cunt, his fingers diving between my lips, spreading them wide. I parted my legs for him, wanted his hand to have free and easy access to my quivering twat.
Toying with my lips, investigating the folds of my petals, he finally landed on my soft and fleshy clit, taking it between his fingers.
"You're right about your meat," he said," it is hot and tender."
He squeezed and I damn near choked on my sandwich. A tingle raced up from my cunt, exploded in my brain in a hail of blazing fireworks. Blood rushed into my protruding nub, strengthened it, swelled it into a throbbing erection between his clamping fingers.
His fingers raced up and down its length, frigged it gently before sending his hand further into my slit. The heel of his hand rested against my pulsing clit as his middle finger slipped up my hole. I barely felt the intrusion, had too little to grasp onto. Carla's dildo and the guys last night made it mandatory that I have more than a single finger.
I didn't react to the slender probe and Blayne gave me more. Still no reaction, even though I sensed a presence inside my dark interior.
"Don't you care for finger sandwiches?" Blayne asked, his voice tinged with surprise.
"It takes a lot of cucumber to make a good one." Blayne was quick, caught on right away, and became more aggressive. My muscles still didn't have to stretch, but my hole finally knew the comfort of holding some-thing within its chewing grip.
He pumped his fingers with the expertise of a seasoned lover and I began to juice for him, my pussy squishing nectar around his in riding finger.
"Next time, I order my sandwich au just" he said through a smirk. "Though you don't seem to be having any problem."
"No. Plenty moist over here. Even though a long, firm sausage produces a lot more, once you get a good solid bite on it."
"I'll have to remember that. Maybe next time. We'll have to have lunch again so I can test your theory."
"It's not a theory, it's a fact. I can prove it to you. Next time, like you said. I'll show you how to milk it so it spurts on the first bite. Right now, I could do with a little more attention to the hard facts concerning a certain piece of red meat."
Blayne seemed puzzled, his fingers still working my cunt in a steady drive. Then his eyes brightened and the smile returned to his lips. His fingers extracted them-selves and trailed dew up to my clit. He knew what I wanted, willingly obliged.
He rubbed my tiny length to guarantee it was as hard as it could be before taking it between his fingers. He rolled and massaged, twisted and turned, increased the mounting fever in my breasts. My legs opened and closed, my lips squeezing around his gentle fingers in loving kisses and adoring embraces.
He had soon built an orgasm around my trembling clit, a small one, but an orgasm is an orgasm, appreciated no matter what its size. I was actually a little thankful that it wouldn't be a mammoth blast. After all, we were in the middle of a restaurant, surrounded by near strangers. It would be hard to conceal a monumental release with its almost necessary scream of wild excitement. No, this would do me just fine.
The closer it came to a head, the more little bites I took of my sandwich, bites to help squelch the squeaks and squeals produced by the handling of my reaction. My insides churned beneath his manipulation, my body wanting to writhe and jiggle. But I managed to hold myself still, my, hips already plastered between two warm bodies seated on either side of me. Being so locked in place, my body stifled in its mobility, all action centered in my pussy. It loved the attention, gloried in its selfishness, relished not having to share with the rest of my being.
Blayne worked magic, my clit a tower of sensitivity. I wanted to cry out, to scream at the top of my lungs. My cunt danced a wild jig while I struggled to maintain some sense of dignity, fought to keep the balance of my body under control. My ass slid along the plastic, my warm liquids slipping from my slit, making my seat a slippery slide. I tried not to squirm, but it was hopeless. My orgasm was near, was taking over all thoughts of propriety. I suddenly didn't care where I was, who was seated next to me, my excitement all consuming, Blayne's hand commander of my ready-to-explode cunt.
I wasn't prepared when Blayne splayed his fingers and ran up and down my screaming crack. I jammed the rest of my sandwich into my mouth, a startled scream about to attract every eye in the room. My mouth was full, my cunt just as full of my own trapped fire. And Blayne's hand slammed my clit forcefully into my burning flesh, his fingers again inside me, wriggling and jiggling.
My mouth chewed and chewed in furious chomps to keep my cry within me, to lock away an embarrassing outburst. I felt my body would implode, collapse upon itself as it drained into my plugged pussy.
Blayne's fingers remained where they were, his hand idle, refusing to budge from its warm home. He held it there, then oozed his fingertips around inside me, gathering the honey.
"Do you want dessert? the asshole asked with a wink, knowing perfectly well I had already had all the dessert I could handle.
I didn't grace him with an answer, but squeezed around his hand instead.
"No? Well, I'd like some."
He slowly removed his fingers, formed his hand into a fist. He pulled away and exposed my cunt to cold air, quite a shock after the hot encounter. His hand appeared above the table and he sucked on his fingers, his lips caressing each one in long, slow enjoyment, tasting me, savoring the best of all possible desserts.
My hands latched onto the edge of the table as I slowly calmed down, returned to a state of normality. Lunch was over and it was not one I'd soon forget.
"Creamy," Blayne said, a napkin removing what his mouth was unable to. "We'll definitely have to do this again. I just love dessert, you know."
"Me, too. Next time, though, I think I'll have an eclair, something filled with thick custard that melts on the tongue."
"I think that can be arranged. I know this wonderful bakery that would just love to have you shop around. And I hear they give free samples, something to nibble on before making your final selection. A very exclusive place that not many know. And very private."
"Does it have nuts? I love nuts."
"Only two varieties, but plenty of each. I could show you around except I think it's time to get back to work. I know you're enjoying lunch, but you'd better pull yourself back together, if you know what I mean."
I got back into my panties and pantyhose and tried my best not to raise any suspicions. I straightened the fabric over my knees and silently prayed there wouldn't be any evidence of Blayne's dessert on the back of my skirt. I had no idea what I might be sitting in.
The angels never showed up at rehearsals, but I thanked them anyway. Blayne would never have gotten dessert had I been wearing jeans. At least I don't think he would have. At any rate, it would have been a lot more difficult if not impossible.
I watched Blayne through the rest of the day with a greater appreciation of his talents. I still hadn't seen his cock, this afternoon devoted to dialogue which did not require him to change. Now I eagerly looked forward to another lunch. Another lunch when it would be my turn, when I could at least get a feel of his member with my hand and claim my own succulent dessert. That's the best part anyway. Looking is nice, can be a real turn-on, but hands-on experience is the only way to go.
I ignored Carla the rest of the day and concentrated solely on Blayne. My mind was filled with extravagant fantasies to see me through the lonely night ahead. I had hoped for an invitation to dinner, or to his apartment, something, but no offer came. I considered extending my own invitation, but something told me Blayne would be a lunch time lover and nothing more. Call it intuition or a hunch, but I had the distinct feeling that Blayne kept his life outside the theater very much to himself. Whatever the reason, I went home alone.
The next few days passed very quickly. I had a lot to do, checking on every aspect of the show to be ready for the rapidly approaching first full dress rehearsal. Blayne really didn't have a chance to invite me to lunch. I was so busy I usually grabbed something on the go as I flitted from the rehearsal hall, to the costume shop, to the theater. Everything was coming together at a furious pace, and it looked like all the pieces were actually going to fit. Even Carla seemed on her best behavior.
I didn't have a lot of time for personal thoughts, although my pussy reminded me from time to time that it didn't understand this sudden change. It pouted beneath me, longed to return those three days of what seemed like uninterrupted sex, from Randy to Martin, from Carla to Joe and Brian, and finally Blayne. I'd get back to those days, eventually, but more pressing matters demanded my total attention.
CHAPTER SIX
At long last, it was time for our first full dress rehears-al and everyone was collected in one place, no more chasing around the city. The entire cast and crew was excited to finally be in the theater to see just how their separate efforts would blend into a combined whole.
The overture had begun, I had double checked to be sure the cast was in place, and had settled in behind my monitors to adjust my headsets and greet the crew. I love being on headsets when the show is running, the conversations always wild and crazy. No one pays much attention to the show after a while, the cues memorized, their jobs pretty much on auto-pilot. They depend on me or my assistant to call the show (give them warnings of upcoming cues, a standby just before it is to be executed, and a "go" when it is to happen). That leaves a lot of time for idle and interesting chatter. And it gets rather raunchy at times. The audience would be shocked to know what really goes on back stage, sometimes a better show than the one they're watching!
But during rehearsals, everyone stay alert, pays close attention while all the bugs are worked out and their jobs become etched in stone. That's why I was so shocked at the behavior of my six spotlight operators. I can't normally see them, being trapped behind my monitors to watch the action on stage, but the lighting technician had asked me to check a couple of his lights positioned below the balcony in the house. I turned the monitors and headset over to my assistant and moved to the wings to get a view. And what a view I got!
Six bare asses shined in the darkness, flashlights held to illuminate the naked bottoms of my follow spot operators. Hijinks like that are usually saved for the run of the show. But there they were. Some were big and round, others skinny and oval, there was hair, there was none, there were wide open cracks and clenched little lines. I couldn't believe my eyes.
I rushed back to the headsets. "What the fuck are you guys doing?" I asked dumbfounded.
"Just trying to relieve a little tension," crackled a voice over the headset.
"Just put your pants back on and behave. This is no time for tricks. Warning electrics 36."
I chastised them but inwardly enjoyed the display. There was such a variety, I couldn't decide which I like best. There's a lot to be said for fleshy, hairy cheeks that fill your hands and squish beneath your touch. But the feel of firm, smooth butts is equally as nice.
"Standby electrics 36. Warning sound 11. Follow spots, you go with electrics 36, if you can get your minds back on the show and out of the gutter."
"No problem, boss."
I hoped the little display hadn't affected the cast or we could all be in trouble. But the performers were all professionals, with the possible exception of Carla, and it would take a hell of a lot more than a few bare bottoms to rattle their concentration.
"Electrics 36 ... go. Standby sound 11." The monitors lit up with six follow spots right on target. A small sigh of relief removed my anxiety. These guys apparently had enough confidence in their abilities to do their jobs and play at the same time.
"Sound I ... go."
I had to place full concentration on the script as this number had a lot of cues in it and there was no time for chatting on the headsets. It was all business for the next few minutes.
The number ended, we had sailed right through it, and we now faced what seemed like an endless stretch of dialogue without cues.
"Hey, Sandy, this is Dave. What about my lights?"
"Sorry, Dave. I was distracted and didn't check. I'll do it now."
I once again turned the show over to my assistant and returned to the wings to check on Dave's lights. The flashlights were at work again. This time, however, the spot operators had turned to face me. Six dangling dicks were displayed for my ogling eyes. Six very different pieces of meat hanging over six very different sets of nuts. I took my time, and examined each one closely. Two were uncut, four cut to show very differently shaped heads. And their balls were as unique as their cocks, some hanging low with one lower than the other, some cinched up in tight, evenly bottomed sacs, some smooth and seemingly hairless, while others were wrinkled and massively covered.
It was really hard to gather any great detail from this distance, but I tried. I looked from one to the other, was fascinated by the diversity. Whoever said," If you've seen one, you've seen them all," was dead wrong! I had sort of presumed that a man's cock was relatively straight. But witnessing six of them at the same time, proved my assumption to be in error. A couple curved slightly, while one hooked right up from the center. It was hard to tear myself away, but I did have a job to do.
There was a lot of laughter and chuckles when I got back on the headset. "Very funny, guys," I said. "You don't really need me to check any lights, do you Dave."
"Not really. I hope you took a good, hard look, be-cause we got a challenge for you. Before the show, I switched all the spot ops around so no one's on their original follow spot."
"So what? They all have to learn each other's cues eventually."
"Right. But you're missing the point. Here's the challenge. Connect the right appendage to the right person. We'll check you after the show. Deal?"
"And what do I get if I get them right? Better yet, what do I get if I get them wrong?"
"We don't think you can do it. So, if you get them all attached correctly, you get $60, that's $10 a head. If you miss, we get the booby prize."
"The booby prize? You mean I have to flash my tits in front of that motley crew?"
"That's the deal. Come on, be a sport."
The thought was intriguing. Even if I lost, I wasn't giving up much. I could handle six guys staring at my naked tits, I think. But that old Kankakee modesty lounged at the back of my brain, told me I'd be too embarrassed to display my breasts to a crowd. I fought against it. Tits are only tits, a little extra flesh hanging from my chest. It's not like baring my pussy, something I knew I couldn't do.
"You got a deal," I announced, my modesty success-fully overcome. "Now put your dicks back in your pants and concentrate on the show."
I immediately set about my task. A couple of them were easily identified having seen both cocks and bottoms. Ray was the most heavyset of the group and had to have the biggest set of buns. Chris, on the other hand, was as skinny as a rail and his slender hips would instantly give him away. The rest were up for grabs.
I followed the script, called my cues, but my mind was elsewhere. Charlie, John, Bill, and Bobby. Four cocks without faces. I decided "the hook" had to belong to Bobby for I had noticed the constant bulge in his crotch, thinking he walked around with a perpetual hard-on. That left three. Charlie was blond, so should have the lightest colored pubic hair, assuming him a natural blonde. John and Bill were the toughies. They both had medium brown hair, were built almost identically, and this decision would be a real coin toss.
The show passed swiftly by as I concentrated on cock, each with a smiling face. I kept switching Bill's and John's faces between the two remaining clicks, one cut, one uncut. Then I remembered spotting a mole near the uncut cock and the problem was solved. John had a couple of moles near his neck and the uncut cock had to be his.
After rehearsal, which ran unexpectedly well, I met Dave and the follow spot operators in the prop room. Confidence perched proudly on my shoulders.
"Are you ready?" Dave asked.
"You got the money?" Dave nodded. "Then let's get on with it."
Dave doused the lights, cast us into total darkness. I heard belt buckles jingle, zippers scrape, and pants hit the floor. Flashlights sparked to life, lit up my six pronged challenge.
My pussy tingled at this close-up view, my eyes drinking in the details of a man's greatest possession. The sight of these six, limp dicks was a real turn-on.
"Turn around," I said, choking back my excitement. I needed to see their asses to begin my identification. They turned, showed me their bare butts and wiggled them playfully.
"Starting from my left, you're numbered one through six. You can turn back around now." I stood silently for a few seconds to let them think I was having trouble deciding which was which. Actually, I had them all pegged, but wanted to stare at their beautiful organs just a little longer. "Number one is Ray and number five is Chris. Right, Dave?"
"Right. But there's four more to go."
My pussy chewed on my panties as I correctly identified blonde Charlie as number four. Three down, three to go. The three most difficult to distinguish. I studied "the hook" intently, its head staring back at me. I tried to imagine the feel of the thing as it scraped the top of my cunt, assuming the hook remained when fully erect. Juices sopped into my panties at the imagined sensation, the pleasurable groove it would force into my flesh. "The hook, I mean, number six is Bobby."
"Right again. The hook, Sandy?"
"Yeah. Look at the way it curves up. That's what make Bobby look like he's always got an erection."
"Damn!" Bobby said. "This thing's always gettin' me in trouble."
"You're in the home stretch, Sandy. Keep guessing."
I searched the two remaining dicks for the telltale mole and there it was, a small, dark circle lounging beneath curling hairs above a slender, uncut dick. "Number two is John which makes number three Bill."
"How did you do that?" Dave asked incredulously.
"Guess I've got a good eye for cock. What about you? Why aren't you in on this little fiasco?"
"My dick's for private viewing only. I'm not as kinky as these jerkoffs."
"Too bad. Guess I'll just have to go on thinking you've got a dick the size of my pinkie. Pay up."
Dave handed me the $60 and I stuffed it into my jeans, my hand moving my pocket to fondle my trembling twat. I wanted to sample each and every one of the cocks so proudly displayed before me, but that wasn't part of the deal. I panicked. I had to figure out a way to have at least one of them! My pussy wouldn't accept anything less.
"Think what you want," Dave said. "I know what I've got and no one's ever complained. In fact, there's some-one waiting for it now. Until tomorrow, gentlemen. Good night, Sandy."
The flashlights clicked off as the door closed behind Dave. A rustling of clothes exploded in the inky darkness. No one spoke until a single flashlight lit up Bobby's face.
"We've got a surprise for you," he said, moving the light across his naked chest, down his stomach, into his crotch. His hand held his cock, slowly stroked it into a mounting erection. The other flashlights snapped on, all aimed at Bobby. He stood fully illuminated, jerking on his meat, bouncing his balls.
"What exactly do you guys have in mind?" I asked hesitantly, not at all sure I wanted the answer.
The lights swung around to cast their white beams up and down five more men in unashamed nudity, each working on his own building hard-on.
"Oh, hell," I said under my breath and headed for the door.
They blocked my exit. "Come on, Sandy," Charlie said," you can't leave us like this. That's not fair!"
"I hate to spoil your gang bang, but I'm just not into groups.
"All right, one at a time," Ray pleaded.
"Be good to us, boss," Bill added. "We've showed you ours, you show us yours."
"You guys mean business!" I said in a weak attempt to stall their advances. I wanted them and I didn't. One or two of them okay. But six? My mind reeled at the possibilities and my earlier confidence had totally evaporated. I couldn't take them all at once even if my pussy told me it could. It watched each cock grow to stunning rigidity, ached to climb aboard and hump it to glorious climax. My cunt might be able to concentrate on one dick at a time, my mind saw all six and balked at the thought.
They encircled me, trapped me within a prison of pounding meat. They weren't going to give me a choice and resistance seemed futile. This was a much greater challenge than I had expected. I knew I could show my tits, but they anticipated a whole lot more.
A pair of hands pulled my blouse out of my jeans and I braced myself for the inevitable. Somehow I'd worked it all out, singly or en masse, in pairs or a quartet. It was going to happen and I had to relax, bury modesty and concern. I shook my arms to cast off the remaining tenseness in my muscles and let them strip me.
"Be careful guys. Remember. I'm only human. I tear easily." That was the last I was allowed to say.
My naked body was attacked by hands, mouths, tongues, and nipping teeth. On my back, my tits, my ass, my legs, my pussy. Nothing escaped their wanton at-tack. I was taken around the world by lapping tongues, my body jiggling beneath their sensitive licking. Pleasure eased worry. Heat replaced fear. Desire replaced modesty. I was lowered to the floor, my back on a plush carpet, my arms and legs stretched out to my sides.
The flashlights were placed on the floor in a giant circle, cast eerie shadows across my body, made the whole affair seem surreal. Cocks and balls bobbed above me as the guys jerked and tugged, decided which area of my excited flesh each would claim. I watched in fascination. Special shadows danced over their pumping organs, swirling around nuts that flopped and wobbled and slammed into kissing thighs. It was a scene right out of a Polanski movie, a sequence to confuse the mind between what was happening and what was only imagined. But this was real, this was happening. And was exciting beyond words. My cunt pumped in the air awaiting the arrival of the first stab of hairy meat.
They all descended at once. Ray knelt next to my head, his cock zeroing in on my mouth. John sat on the other side of my head, beside me, offering his attentions. Bill and Charlie stretched out to either side, their mouths coming down on my tits. Bobby lifted my legs to let Chris stretch crossways beneath me, his foreskin well behind his glistening dickhead, ready to penetrate my wet lovehole. As soon as my legs were lowered, Bobby climbed on top, aimed "the hook" at my drooling snatch. Quivering ecstasy claimed my body as they hovered, waited in poised position to take me.
Ray's eyes were ablaze as he watched Bobby burying his fleshy ple in my molten snatch. Chris too and while Bobby and I entered into a warm wet world of raw flicking, he and Ray watched our every move while stroking their cocks slowly. Bill too joined in, and I was amazed to see that despite his slow rythmn, he was already drooling cum from his love stick. I think he, like the others, was wishing he were in Bobby's spot, plowing my cunt, dumping that pre-cum ooze into my bushy basket.
It's exciting to lie here fucking, yet still able to enjoy the wild thrill of watching these men play themselves into a frenzy. It occurred to me suddenly that the thrill was indeed a two-way one. Bobby and I providing their entertainment, their up-close sex show, while they in turn were driving me wild with the sight of their nakedness and all that pounding meat. Bobby and I are the focal point of a circle of masturbaters, all timing them-selves, holding back their orgasms so that when the time comes we will all cum together.
To our left, I suddenly see Charlie pulling on the shaft of his cock with both hands. My God, he's huge. He's holding that monster meat with his left hand at the base and his right hand above that, and there is still an inch or two of cock between that top hand and the knob of that incredible erection.
Beside him John is jiggling his smaller cock, a look of lust in his eyes and I know too that he is wishing he could replace Bobby in my snatch.
I've heard of circle jerks, but I must admit that this is the first one I've ever witnessed or taken part in.
And while I know it's hard to believe, I managed to study each one of those love sticks and the technique of each masturbator while being humped royally by Bobby and giving him all of my attention at the same time. Although it was never spoken, we had all somehow decided that my orgasm with Bobby would be the signal for everyone else to come. In this kind of circle jerk, timing is everything and everyone of the crew had his own system for that timing. Ray fondled his balls very delicately while performing his slow stroke.
Chris, who must have been bordering on orgasm, had stopped briefly and was only idly pulling the foreskin back and forth over the purple head of his dick. Billy and Charlie prefered not to stroke their cocks at all, but rather humped their hips back and forth, literally fucking their fists as though a woman stood in front of them.
John was obviously closer to his orgasm than the others. "You're not doing your bit," I kidded him. He was just standing there rolling his balls in his hand.
"Ready when you are boss!" he laughed. "Hell I've been drooling for five minutes now. "One hard whack and I'me off!"
Well, I thought to myself, if they're all primed and ready to go then I'd better concentrate on my own action. There's nothing like a good orgasm to clear tje mind, and there's nothing like the good fucking I was getting from Bobby on the floor to bring on a monster cum.
Bobby was giving it his all. He had my legs moved from where they had originally been wrapped around his waist right up over` his shoulders and was gliding that enormous Iovepole of his as far into me as it would go.
I felt the beginnings of an explosion deep inside my cunt and shifted my ass for maximum friction from, his cock.
I wasn't sure how close to exploding Bobby might be. So far he had given no signs of filling my pussy with that hot, sticky, wonderful love juice that I knew was building in his balls. I decided to urge him on. I knew he liked to hear me talk dirty, so I gave him a good earful of smut.
"Oh Bobby, give it to me. Give me all of that giant cock. I want you to fill my pussy with cum. I want you to shoot a load into me that will fill me up. I want you to fuck me until your cum is coming out my ears!"
That seemed to do the trick. He began to moan as he rode me faster and faster.
I reached behind him and between his legs and felt his balls riding high in his sack. They were fat and hairy and reacted to my touch with wild twitching.
I had Bobby right where I wanted him and decided that the time had come.
"The time to cum has come," I shouted to my pumping friends. "On the count of 10 I want this room knee deep in juice."
"Great!", the guys yelled back in unison, and we began our countdown.
"One!", Bobby grunted, driving his hard shaft right into the pubic hair.
"Two!", Ray shouted, stroking his foreskin back over the head of his glans.
"Three!" we all yelled together.
Then "Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine!"
I missed the ten count and I expect the rest of the guys did too. There was one long scream of ecstacy out of each and every one of us.
Despite my blood rushing to my head and the searing hot orgasm ripping through my cunt, I managed to look at each one of the masturbators in that erotic circle.
Ray stood there letting his load drool doun over his fist which was still wrapped tight around his fuck pole.
Chris's load looked as though it would fill a beer mug. He just stood there grinning as his juice spurted from his piss hole and splashed onto the floor at his feet.
Billy used his load of spunk like body lotion catching it as it spurted from his throbbing cock and lathering it into his balls.
Charlie rubbed his load int his chest hairs.
And John let his run down his leg.
I wanted to get out from under Bobby at that instant and lick the stuff off the floor.
There's nothing quite like the taste of fresh, hot man juice, and it seemed a shame to let it go to waste.
When it was over, we all sat smiling at each other.
"That's the best circle jerk I've ever taken part in," Chris grinned.
The others agreed.
That's when they presented me with the dough.
"Hey you guys!" I protested. "I don't fuck for money. I fuck for fun ... . because .I like a good flicking at least once a day."
"Oh, God, Sandy," Bobby said, his crotch displaying the familiar bulge," don't get the wrong idea. We weren't paying for it or nothin'. This was kinda an afterthought. You won the bet fair and square."
"You sure? I don't want it getting around that I took money for sex."
"Don't worry. A deal is a deal," Chris said. "We're not going to spread any nasty rumors about the boss!"
"All right. Oh, by the way, let me know if you come up with any more interesting ideas. I'm always up for a good challenge."
"We'll work on it," Charlie chimed in. "You can bet your ass on it!"
We finished dressing and left the theater, each of us heading our own separate ways. I wondered if I'd be the topic of tomorrow's headset conversations, a detailed account of someone's sexual escapade usually getting the ball rolling. But that was tomorrow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Since the rehearsal had gone so well, nothing had been scheduled for this evening. That doesn't mean everything was` perfect. Some costumes had to be reworked, we were missing a couple of props, there were corrections to be made on the set, and a few lights needed to be refocused, but none of that involved me tonight. The only thing I had to do was go through my prompt book and change a couple of cues noted during the run of the show to be ready for the morning meeting. There would probably be a lot more changes then, that's why I worked in pencil until opening night and every-thing was pretty much as it was going to be for the run of the show.
I threw a frozen pizza into the oven, immediately set to work on my prompt book, and knew it was going to be an early night. Exhaustion made my eyes heavy, the blissful exhaustion of uninhibited sex. Bold images of standing cocks marched through my mind like erect little soldiers, proud, puffed up, heads held high. It made concentration extremely difficult.
I ate my pizza, then flopped myself down in front of the TV. I was too tired to do anything more. I watched whatever came on, suffering through an insipid sitcom or two. I knew though, that I couldn't stomach one of the implausible nighttime soaps. I couldn't understand why TV had dwindled the size of the theater-going audience. I was too critical to ever be a good couch potato, so I put it to bed.
Drowsiness claimed me the moment my head touched the pillow and I easily drifted off to sleep. Sometime during the night, one never knows when these things actually occur, I experienced a wonderful dream. It didn't start off so wonderful, but it definitely improved.
Martin began it. My dream recalled our encounter in much greater detail than I cared to remember. The sumptuous feel of rolling flesh is a pleasant memory. But Martin stood in cascading folds of blubbery fat, sagging skin all but obscuring his turgid tool. Dreams distort, alter reality for some unfathomable reason. I was absent from the picture, an outside viewer witnessing the rapid expansion of Martin's body; his cock ballooning as quickly as the rest of his stretching flesh. He grew enormously large, inflated like a blimp, then exploded.
The scene shifted to a huge restroom, a row of urinals trailing off into infinity. Naked men stood before them, their dicks in their hands, all heads turned in my direction. Every one of them looked the same, an exact clone of the men to either side.
My naked body stepped into the picture, my hands working my pussy in front of their stares. I dropped to my knees. The men turned around in unison. Their hands pumped their erections below jiggling stomachs, stomachs that protruded in a gently curving arch, not fat, just rounded and soft with little hairs that pointed down into their groins. A sign above the urinals read," Truckers do it on the road."
The bodies blurred into a single man, his throbbing dick aimed at my open mouth. In he came, his hands locked on the back of my head, his hot cock filling my mouth, inching down my throat. He shot burning cum straight into my stomach and pulled out with a loud pop, stepped aside, then made way for the next in line. The bodies had changed. Each was different. Cocks of every imaginable description slipped between my lips and released heavy loads of thick cream into my greedily sucking mouth. Prick after prick, from the grotesque to the sublime, filled my pussy with excited vibrations as I drank their fluids and emptied their nuts of stored up cum. The line was endless, my mouth never satisfied.
My eyes closed, in my dream, and my mouth sat open, empty. Looking around me, the scene had once again shifted. I was still on my knees, surrounded by chiselled, sweaty bodies pumping iron, straining under strenuous exercise, posing before giant mirrors. Huge chests glistened from the efforts of their workouts. Muscles rippled on muscle. The overwhelming aroma of men in training sprawled me to my back, opened my legs. Modesty took a back seat to driving, runaway desire.
Lust steered my eyes from one glorious body to the next. These guys were perfection, should be cast in marble for the entire world to appreciate. Not one flaw met my roving eye, not a mole, not a scar. There was nothing to interfere with the smooth contours of well-developed muscle. And they all worked the most wonderful muscle of all. Weights hung down from their massive dicks, stretched their meat to deliciously in-credible lengths. Their control was impressive, the strength unmatched as their powerful cocks raised and lowered the weights. Their hands were gripping their hips as their faced contorted in the task of improving the most desirable of all muscles. These were body builders in the truest sense!
My pussy ached and begged to know such control, to wrap itself around the mighty proportions displayed before it. It got its wish. One of the body builders slipped the weight from his dick and lowered himself on top of me. I felt I would be crushed beneath his weight. But his huge cockhead plowed up my pussy and stretched my hole gloriously wide. His shaft drove up my clasping snatch in unparalleled speed, a mighty blast of force that shook my body. His fucking was a ravenous devouring of my tender flesh. His power was inhuman, beyond comprehension in its ferocity. His hips slammed into me as he buried his member up to its base, his mighty thrusts damn near jarring my teeth loose! My cunt loved it, hoped it would never stop. But only a few thundering jabs swamped my interior in boiling cum and the massive body left me.
The next guy quickly took his place, raised my legs, pressed my knees back towards my chest. My cunt and my ass were fully exposed, anxiously awaited, his ample manhood. He inched closer, his cockhole dripping cool fluids as it made its approach. Without warning, it made a sudden dive into my pussy. I quickly relaxed my hold, opened to the force of his incoming cock. Down and down he came, stretching my lovehole further than I thought humanly possible. After long minutes of feeding dick to my expanded circle, his huge balls slammed into my asscheeks, trembled and bounced as he ground his hips into my flesh. His giant cockhead battered itself between he walls of my cunt, sent new found pleasures screaming to my brain. He worked all around inside me until he shot his semen deep into my cavernous well, not once pulling back and plowing forth, holding himself deeply within maneuvering himself with powerful hips.
My cunt clamped around his girth, held him, accepted every drop as it issued forth. I clamped him so tightly, he couldn't break free. His body jerked and tugged, raised my back from the floor, but his cock was trapped. It stretched and twisted and finally escaped my gripping muscles. My hips hit the floor, jiggling my cheeks in rippling waves of carnal satisfaction.
The rest of the gorgeous hunks descended upon me one after the other. Cocks touched every inch of my flesh, pried their way in to every available hold, my pussy, my mouth--even my ears. They pressed themselves into my skin, folding whatever they could around their mass to form a trench in which to plow their throbbing organs. My mind exploded, tossing me into total blackness. My body slumped in heavenly exhaustion.
A spotlight appeared in the darkness, drew a bright circle around an enormous brass bed. Carla naked and open, stretched out seductively in its center. A dark shadow loomed on the fringe of the light, then ambled closer and climbed on the bed.
All hell broke loose! Cocks and pussies paraded through my warped vision. Tits flopped and flailed, then became engulfed by giant tit clamps that held tender nipples, stretched supple mounds like salt water taffy.
Couples banged 'away in a variety of positions and in a variety of combinations, men on men, women on women, men sucking men while fucking women. Whatever could be imagined was happening in brilliant color in front of my mind's eye. I had yet to appear on the scene, hoped I would not, knew I eventually would.
Blayne stepped out of the chaotic mass and pulled me into the midst of the humping bodies. He wore his dance belt and nothing more. He still denied me a look at his cock. But I had no time to lament this discouraging situation before I was drawn into the action Blayne laid me down on a sticky floor to cover my face with his hairy balls, his legs spread wide to give me room. I lunged into his balls and buried my tongue between them. Then I sucked on the salty juices encountered, in his dark and steaming pubic area.
Men grabbed onto my ankles and my wrists, touched my body at every sensual spot along my length. Blayne lifted himself from my face, his lips curled in a sarcastic grimace, his hair matted with sweat. He backed away, his thumbs lowering the top of his dance belt in fractions of inches. Slower, in moves of excruciating precision, he exposed an effulgence of rich brown hair. But he disappeared into the shadows before showing me any of his manhood.
I struggled to wake up, but couldn't. I lay exposed, firmly held in my open position, became available to any and all takers. A hairless man stepped between my legs, his hands holding a foaming mug. I gazed at his crotch, his stiff cock rising out of bare flesh. He had shaved himself down to raw skin. It was a strange and intriguing sight, a hairless crotch raising my interest. My mouth wanted to investigate the feel of bumping into naked flesh as my lips travelled the length of his writhing vein. My pussy wanted to tickle his stripped skin with its own wriggling bush. My ass desired the hot, flattening slap of shaved balls.
He knelt between my legs, stared at my pussy, his hand circling within the mug. He extracted a lather-laden brush and applied it to my cunt, lavished warm suds onto my cunt hair. Setting the mug aside, he knelt then and began to eat the suds which, it suddenly occurred to me, smelled like whip cream. His mouth, tongue and lips explored my entire crotch area. His tongue skimmed over my pussy lips, pushed a mound of foam ahead of it, left a naked trail behind. Brown public hairs wriggled in the foam as his lips wiped my bush clean, splattered the lather onto the floor. His fingers forced one lip into my crack, spread my skin to guarantee a smooth and complete orgasm. Then the other lip, my cunt folded in on itself. Then they were parted, tiny strokes removing anything that remained.
I stared at a glimmering pussy, bare, lips pouting, protruding between my legs in a sumptuous curve. It was seductively white with a slightly reddened line traversing its center, separating it into two distinct mounds like a ripe cantaloupe. I gasped at its beauty.
The man lowered his face into my truly naked cunt. Flesh met flesh with nothing in between. I felt the stubble on his cheeks as he raked his face across my fevered snatch. It tickled and tingled all the way down to my toes. He backed away, embraced me with his eyes, viewed my details with a loving glance before slipping his dick between my lips. He plied his cock up my freshly licked pussy in jerking bits until his shaved crotch met mine. Bare pussy surrounded equally bare cock, naked flesh caressing naked flesh. It's a wonderful feeling, a newly discovered erotic experience.
He pumped me in slow, methodical strides. I wanted power, to be taken in ram rodding stabs that would pound my ass into the floor. What I got was maddening, slow stroking, not the fevered stroking I craved.
With each stroke, another stripped and ready-for-action man formed in the shadows until I was surrounded by erection after erection, six of them instantly recognized. "The hook" was first to capture my attention. My spot operators were interspersed with others, all of them baring unrecognized organs. Every shaft was en-circled by clasping forgers, fingers that glided up and down healthy meat with ever increasing speed. My lover's slow working of my cunt would never topple my climax. The sight of so much masturbating meat only heightened my need.
They all came at once. Great gushes of creamy cum splashed onto the floor. I saw a sea of white. And it seemed they would never stop. A steady stream erupted from each spewing cockhole like a well-fed waterfall. Semen collected around the room, lapped at the walls, then covered the floor. The level grew higher and higher, until waves of fresh fluids cresting at my chin. I wriggled; fought to keep my face above the rising tide. The rampaging waterfalls gave no sign of letting up. Cum inched around the room, I closed my eyes.
I awoke, my hands clawing at the white sheet covering my face. Fear subsided and my breathing relaxed. My pussy creamed beneath me and I tossed off the sheet. Light brown hairs stared back at me and I breathed a sigh of relief at seeing I remained intact. It was thank-fully only a dream, and dreams don't always come true.
But my dream left me unsated, an orgasm fully alive and clamoring inside me. The images were vividly coursing through my mind, keeping me aroused, demanded that I bring myself to climax.
My hands inched over my tits, massaged for but a second before skimming my tumbling tummy. Then they came to rest between my legs. I had never been particularly successful at self-manipulation, but the scenes within my wild imagination would surely do the trick.
My fingers played with my folds, basked in the warmth emanating from my moist and flaming interior. I en-countered a fully erect, throbbing clit and fondled it as Blayne would have done, his naked image filling my sign. His almost naked image, that is. My mind refused to strip away that fucking dance belt!
I quickly replace Blayne with Bobby," the hook" a cherished recollection to be securely locked into permanent memory. Recalling the divine scrape of that head against the top of my cunt forced three fingers into my quivering hold. I probed and prodded, twisted them around, spread them wide to meet drooling walls. My lips nibbled at my knuckles, tried to draw them further in. My other hand reached my clit, found it, rocked it from side to side and up and down. My hips undulated beneath my efforts, forced pussy around two groping hands. I played with myself for what seemed like hours, my hands rushing all over my entrancing box.
The images of my dream raced around inside my head like a VCR in fast forward, a comical rush to cum and be replaced. It would have been funny except for the mounting orgasm that consumed all emotion, drove my hands with furious momentum.
I climaxed at the exact moment the scene of the tied up, spread-eagled bodies flashed in my brain. My fingers relished the feel of excited liquids sloshing around their wriggling movements, sheathing their surface in agitated heat.
Then Martin reappeared, his tiny, wrinkled dick held in both hands. His pisshole open. He began to pee.
My body bolted upright, my eyes snapping wide. His image faded. I was willing to do a lot sexually, but knew that was beyond the scope of my acceptance.
I laid myself back down, savored the trailings of my release, and drifted back to sleep. The dream chose not to return.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day produced another successful rehearsal. I was extremely pleased that everything was falling into place so nicely. It was a reflection on my job, and even Carla seemed to be cooperating. Something was brewing between Carla and one of the chorus girls, but thus far it appeared nothing more than typical jealousy and squabbling between two healthy egos. With Carla on good behavior, my job security swelled.
Josh Leamon, the director, had to fly off to California the morning after we opened, so he was throwing a party for the entire company tonight. That fact may just have kept everyone in line. There weren't any surprises from the crew, no mooning or flashing. Even the headset conversation was actually quite tame. No one mentioned the orgy in the prop room, although Bobby intimated that he had recently encountered one of the best sexual experiences of his life. He didn't expound, and no one prodded him into revealing any great detail. I was thankful.
Everyone knew the party was going to be quite the affair when Josh informed us that he had hired several limos to transport we inner-city folk out to his "place" on Long Island. "Place" is hardly the best word to describe his rambling mansion. Josh obviously was very well off and like to surround himself in luxury.
When the limo picked up the last of its six assigned passengers, we were instructed to help ourselves to the fully stocked bar. This group didn't have to be told twice. Soft music floated in the air. Unfortunately, it made me feel like I was trapped in an elevator, a captive to tamed versions of rock classics compliments of Muzak. But the level of excitement soon banished the hushed strains beneath giggles and titters. We acted like the cheerleading squad off to the big Homecoming dance, our football team dates awaiting our arrival, our hopes for necking and petting high on the list of priorities.
We arrived in style and put a lid on our girlish hysteria. The place was impressive even from the outside. But the real treat lay within. Every room was a decorator's delight, everything coordinated in perfect harmony. Paintings and sculptures populated each room in just the right numbers. There were not so many that you couldn't appreciate each one, not so few that you felt compelled to study one in great detail before moving on to the next. And each was touched with eroticism, sometimes subtle, never blaring or boldly pornographic. It seemed Josh had an astute eye for the sensual, the suggestive.
Very shortly, everyone had arrived in all their finery, dressed to kill, sported appropriate attire for such a fancy gathering. I felt underdressed in my tailored suit, even though I had. forgone the wearing of a blouse, the double-breasted jacket crossing respectably over my chest to conceal my bra and still allow a bit of cleavage for the wandering eye.
I felt like a nun when I spotted Carla. Her sequined dress clung to her curves like a thick coat of paint. Floor length, wrapped tightly around her legs so she shuffled more than walked. It was slit up one side and just stopped short of the crease between her long legs and rounded butt. There was no back to the dress and dipped so low you could almost see the beginning of her asscrack. And she had to have the front of the thing taped to her tits. Strapless, cut just above the puckered circles of her nipples, there was no other possible way to hold the thing up. The cups sewn into the dress raised her tits, somehow kept them from smashing into each other to form a gorge between them the size of the Grand Canyon. Randy would have been pleased, no panty lines showed beneath the fabric, and Carla was presumed naked beneath.
Everyone drank and ate and talked about the lavishness of Josh's lifestyle. It was a fabulous spread with flowing champagne and a buffet piled high with exquisite cuisine. It was a great party until ...
"You fucking, flat-chested bitch!" Carla screamed above the huddled conversation. "I'll rip those falsies right off you goddamned chest and cram 'em up your cunt, if you've even got one!"
A hush fell over the crowd, the silence total. All eyes focused on Carla, her face a seething mass of hatred as she glared at the trembling chorus girl. She emptied her champagne glass into the girl's face. Everyone gasped.
The spunky girl returned the favor, golden champagne streaking over Carla's reddened cheeks. Two glasses flew into the air. The fight was on.
We all gathered around them, formed a giant circle, but no one stepped in to stop the battle. We were in the ballroom, the band silenced at the outburst, and the combatants had plenty of open space.
Carla pushed the girl to the wooden floor and marched past her, a seemingly easy victory. But the girl refused to be so swiftly defeated. She latched on to Carla's ankle and pink sequins soon sprawled across the floor. A steady stream of profanity shattered the silence as they tumbled and jostled each other about.
I tried to get to them, but a strong arm held me back. The crowd suddenly erupted into cheers and applause, dividing themselves into two camps, half in support of Carla, half egging the chorus girl on.
Carla somehow managed to get back to her feet, one shoe on, one off But the girl was quickly working her way up Carla's legs, her hair a dishevelled mess. Carla pried at her hands, but the girl continued her stead ascent, raised herself to her knees, locked her forgers to the top of Carla's dress. The girl just threw herself back, the fabric held firmly in her grip. Carla screamed as tape stretched out her tits, then abruptly ripped away. The top half of her dress doubled at the waist, baring her breasts to the screaming crowd. Bright red marks travelled across her heaving chest where the tape had been yanked away.
Carla threw herself on top of the girl and tore at her clothes, a second set of small tits flashing beneath a lacy bra. Carla kept at it. The girl now raised Carla's skirt to display bare, clenching buns to roaming, appreciative eyes.
That's when Blayne broke through the crowd and rushed into the melee. He was quickly downed by clutching fingers, became tangled in a mass of writhing arms and legs. Carla's dress was first to give way, the material ripping and falling away from her nude body. She ignored her stripped condition and continued to grab for an fabric she could lay her hands on.
Clothes flew into the air, Blayne's coat, the girl's bra, a shirt, a skirt. The crowd whooped and hollered as more and more naked flesh thrashed around, became exposed to their prying eyes. Hails of laughter consumed the crowd as two falsies rolled out from beneath the struggling bodies. No one else even attempted to break them up; all eyes feasting on the titillating battle.
I focused my attention on the two hairy legs flopping around the floor, Blayne stripped to his shorts, his pants bunched around his shoes and socks. I was almost disappointed when Josh stepped into the fray, thinking he would finally stop this insanity. Instead, he removed Blayne's shoes, his socks; and stripped away his pants, he himself almost dragged into the center of the writhing bodies.
It wasn't long before all three were completely naked, the roar from the crowd deafening. They rolled around the floor, one set of hairy buns meeting my eye from time to time, two sets of tits and pussies jiggling and pumping. It seemed less and less of a war, and more and more of an orgy as the three stopped messing around and began to massage and caress. The screams turned to sighs and moans and the two women flattened Blayne to his back.
He faced me and I almost fainted. I finally had a clear shot at his fully exposed, flaccidly lounging dick. I drank in as much detail as possible before it was removed from my startled vision. And what a beauty it was! Thick. Long. Propped up by a mound of brown hair. The huge helmet of a head damn near kissed his hip as it snaked across his crotch. The thin seam on the underside of his still soft manhood began at the line of his circumcision and trailed the full length of his white meat to disappear around a scrotum that was smooth and full.
Long, brown hairs caressed his balls in a furry blanket. He opened his legs, wriggled his hips, and his cock flopped down between them, reaching to the bottom of his balls. His dorsal vein, raised and slightly blue against his white skin, curved in a seductive trail that forced the eye down to the corona of his cockhead, up and over to feast on the tiny slit so perfectly centered in its mass.
But blond hair and an open mouth removed perfection from sight. Not even one of the cocks in my dream could compete with Blayne. They paled shamefully in comparison. Carla's head obscured my view, claimed Blayne's crotch for herself.
My cunt pounded, demanded that Blayne's cock be slammed deep into its moistening interior. My legs trembled, my body quivered around a pulsing pussy. I felt light-headed and faint. The room swirled as jealousy ate at my heart. Blayne's crotch was fully in Carla's mouth, her legs spread to receive the girl's face in her own, while a second pussy sat on Blayne's head. Whatever had started the fracas was now forgotten as the three dove into heavenly eating.
Strong arms caught me as my legs buckled beneath me, the sight of Blayne's massive member too much to bear, too disheartening to view and not to have. I stared at the top of Carla's head as it rode up and down, tried to imagine the whopping size of Blayne's erection, to feel it between my own desirous lips. I paid no attention to the arms wrapped around my chest, to the hands gripping and squeezing my breasts. I concentrated on the three way happening before me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed people pairing off, hands exploring each other's bodies as they watched in fascinated, voyeuristic pleasure.
Carla lifted up and Blayne's raging erection stood proudly before the mesmerized crowd. Saliva trickled down its length, collected in the tiny well where cock met balls, just before it slammed into his abdomen with a mighty smack, bounced and bobbed in throbbing excitement. Though the wonderfully thick shaft sat firmly in place, the now swollen purplish head wobbled and gurgled in thundering thuds, clear fluids inching out of the parted slit.
Carla's hand straightened the object of her lust as she extracted her pussy from the girl's mouth and turned herself around. She impaled herself on the huge stake. The girl buried her face between Carla's jostling tits, slid her pussy across Blayne's open mouth.
Hands raised my skirt and dove beneath the top of my pantyhose, searched out my hairy slit. I didn't resist, my eyes glued to the captivating threesome putting on the frenzied and uninhibited show for the entranced crowd. I swamped the fingers that invaded my crotch as I watched Blayne's nuts collide in ecstasy as he fucked the living daylights out of Carla. He slammed into her, his hips raising his tightened ass from the floor, sending waves of shock through Carla's rippling bottom.
But my attention was abruptly jerked away as a finger found its way into my expanding hole, pinched together fingertips which slowly opened, stretched and fought my circular muscle. They journeyed forth until I held the first knuckle of the exploring forgers. Then the hand moved faster. I held my breath as a fleeting spasm coursed up from my cunt. I forced myself to relax, regulated my breathing in a normal, steady pattern. I took more of the finger, felt it deep inside me and felt it begin to rub my clit.
A cock rose up against my ass as the man's arm clasped my waist and pulled me into his fevered body. Clothes kept me from knowing the heat of intimate bodily contact, but not from experiencing the heat of his finger laying claim to my rapidly growing box. The velvet lining of my pussy closed around him, wrapped his finger in a tight embrace of welcoming desire.
He began to pump within me, my sexlips kissing the last of his knuckle, accepting the full extension of his probing finger. Gently, sliding in, slipping almost out, he worked my cunt into a lather of lust. I found myself helping him, my feet pushing against the floor to raise and lower my box with increasing speed. Blayne's fingering had been good, but this was better.
The scene in the center of the ballroom had shifted. Carla still drove herself atop Blayne's humongous tool, but the girl had come around to get in a few good licks each time its length was exposed. She dropped to his nuts each time it was covered by Carla's drooling snatch. They kept Blayne's crotch completely covered, letting me drown myself in my own enjoyment without worry of missing the sight of the most coveted cock my eyes had ever encountered!
The man angled himself behind me so his arm stretched out straight between my legs. I looked down at the back of his head and couldn't attach a face to the action. But that was the least of my concerns.
His hand started an upward climb, reached the opening of my cunt as, hairy fingers tickled my cervix. My inflamed hips pushed the cold metal of his wristwatch along his arm as he fed more and more finger in my explosively greedy flesh.
As I pulled up, he pulled down. Then he paused, letting me become accustomed to the feel of a full packed pussy. He took that as his cue. He fucked me slowly, gently pressed against the back of my box before sliding back between cream-drenched walls. The touch of his flesh against my cunt produced an unending flow of warm fluids to grease his ride. I couldn't believe I was being fucked this well by a forger. It was beyond my comprehension. And in a crowd of friends, no less! It boggled my mind.
My attention was split between two equally needed objectives. I desperately wanted to capture every fleeting glimpse of Blayne's cock to log it into masturbatory memory in case I never again received the opportunity of gazing upon his magnificent staff. I also wanted to savore every stimulating moment of my well-executed finger-fuck. Faced as I was, I felt confident I could achieve both of my libidinous goals, the crowd obscured, my concentration keenly focused.
I moaned and sighed as much from the frigging as from the frolicking threesome bucking and gyrating in front of me. Their actions were exploding into a variety of positions and combinations. Their individual pleasures were driving them into a fevered investigation of aroused and pulsing bodily parts. Blayne's cock was flashed and then hidden. I almost fainted from one particular position that glorified Blayne's finest at-tributes. He was on all fours, his ass pointed towards me, his face buried in the chorus girl's cunt. Carla straddled his back, her hands pulling his legs apart, her hands sliding up to part his hair asscrack. I gasped as his pink hole opened for me, sat rosy and round in a circle of dark brown curls. His massive balls hung freely between his muscularly slender thighs, swung forward and back as his cock rocked in front of him, shooting quick glances of a drooling head. The view was magnificent and much, much too brief. Carla's blonde hair lowered toward his balls and I could only assume that her tongue tasted the salty succulence. Envy almost overcame me.
With the picture snapped and filed away for future reference, I returned to the tremors shaking my body in eruptions of arduous passion. My lover, whomever he was, strained and contorted to keep his internal rhythm on a straight and driving course.
The combination of sight and touch had me ready to explode, to dump, an orgasm in an uncontrolled fury of electrified lust. Others were getting off as well; the smell of overworked pussy and fresh cum heavy in the air. That activated the third of my senses. My own sighs drowned out all others, and though wanted, taste was beyond my present reach.
I suddenly became aware of my dangling arms and threw my hands onto my tits, rolling and flattening them against lungs which pumped and gasped. My nipples immediately hardened.
I suddenly raised to the tips of my toes as my body detonated, exploded in a passion induced eruption. The faucets of my shower opened full blast, engulfed my lover's probing and sliding finger. His finger maintained its pounding beat of an exercised heart, raised the fever of my expulsion by a hundred degrees. I shook violently, the sensitivity overwhelming as the finger escaped my slit. I heard slurping behind me as my unknown lover lapped up the juices from my soppy, satisfied cunt.
"What do you think of my pinkie?" my mystery man asked.
"Your pinkie, your forger--" I stopped as I connected a face to the voice. "Dave?" I turned my head to face the master electrician, Dave of follow spot fame.
"I'm not sure my cock could satisfy as well as my fingers, but it might be nice to find out."
"I thought you didn't like groups."
"Do you see anyone watching us? They're into their own thing. I'm still a one-on-one kinda guy."
"Are you trying to tell me your cock is as good as that wonderful finger?" I recalled the feel of his erection against my ass and knew it to be bigger than my pinkie, but doubted it could be as good as that meaty finger.
"No, but I'll keep you guessing for now," he said, his hand adjusting the meat in his crotch, keeping me from seeing exactly how much was there.
An excited scream drew my attention back to the center of the ballroom and our performing trio. Some-one must have cum, or something, for all three laid sprawled out on their backs. Blayne's cock was again soft and resting comfortably over his balls.
Poor Blayne must have suddenly come to the startling realization of where he was, how he was dressed, and exactly what he had been doing. He made a mad dash for his pants. His lovely buns bobbed up and down as he scrambled across the slick floor and quickly climbed into protective clothing, removed the source of my devilish grin.
He retrieved the rest of his clothes as my focus returned to the two still naked ladies. Carla glared at the other girl, shooting daggers from cold, blank eyes.
"You conniving little slut!" Carla hissed. "You stole his cum right right out from under me!" She raised herself up, prepared to pounce.
But the girl was quicker. She grabbed a handful of Carla's pubic hair, slid her free arm under Carla's rib cage, and lifted her from the floor. Carla wriggled and squirmed, tried to break free as her pussy was teased by the chorus girl tugging on her pubes.
The gal raised Carla as high as she could, then dropped her into the floor. Carla's outrageous scream sent a chilling panic through our bodies. She lay in a heap, unmoving, tears streaming from her eyes.
We all rushed in, our hearts in our throats. Our worst fears were about to be realized. Carla's leg lay unnaturally twisted beneath her.
"You fucking cunt!" Carla yelled. "You broke my goddam leg!"
"Sandy! Call an ambulance," Josh said, turning away and giving instructions to cover her up, keep her warm, keep her comfortable.
With the ambulance on its way, I returned to find most everyone still huddled around Carla. She wept gently, her head in Blayne's lap. The chorus girl profusely apologized to anyone who would listen. But there was a strange absence of anyone in authority.
"Come with me," Randy said, tapping me on the should. "There's an emergency meeting that I definitely think you should be in on."
I followed Randy into the study and the doors were closed behind me.
"Ah, there you are," Martin said, offering me a chair. "We've got a problem. Broken leg or not, Carla's not going to be ready to dance on that leg by opening. She'll have to be replaced."
"Aren't you jumping to conclusions?" I asked. "It might only be a sprain."
"You saw it. I'm not a doctor, but I know a broken leg when I see one," Josh said through a worried look.
Martin put his arm around my should. "You begin rehearsals first thing in the morning."
"Me?" I exclaimed, practically jumping out of my skin.
"Why not? You know all of Carla's blocking, her dance routines are nothing more than bumps and grinds, and you've been fit into all her costumes. That leaves dialogue."
"And songs!" I added in a quick hurry. "Thanks, Martin, but I can't sing."
The musical director, Dennis Dreisler, stepped for-ward. "I'll teach you. Besides, a lot of Gypsy's numbers can be talked through. Natalie Wood was no singer and she did it. So can you."
"But ... But ... I can't act."
"Nonsense. Anyone can act," Josh assured me. "The show's in excellent shape and I can devote all my time to your training."
Martin slipped his arm from my shoulder and came around to stand directly in front of me. "We don't have time to argue, honey. You're three steps ahead of anyone else we could bring in. With four days to opening, we need every advantage we can get. Plus, I hate to get technical, but there's a clause in your contract that says you'll do whatever it takes to get the show up and in the world I wanted! running." A shit-eating grin spread across Martin's face. He had me and he knew it. A stage manager was easily replaced.
Randy bumped Martin aside, knelt in front of me, and took my hands into his.," I told you I'd make you a star. You can do it, Sandy," he said with a wink. "We're all here to help you."
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" I looked from shaking head to shaking head and knew further protest was useless. My heart pounded and my nerves stood on frightened edge. I was about to become an actress, an almost star. The thought was terrifying. "Okay, guys. You got me. Just remember, this was your idea and not mine. If I royally fuck things up, it's just as much your fault as mind."
"That's my girl," Josh said, raising me from the chair. "You start with Dennis tomorrow morning at eight."
Everyone was reassuring as we returned to the party. The ambulance had come and gone during our little meeting, and Dave informed us that Carla's leg was indeed broken. Josh made the announcement of my taking Carla's place and the hush was threatening. Then they erupted into excited applause and rushed in to congratulate me, unaware that this was the last thing
CHAPTER NINE
I tossed and turned all night, my jangled nerves refusing to let me store up energy for the barrage of intense rehearsals staring' me in a petrified face. Even the thought of singing before a packed house nauseated my stomach. I hugged the toilet more than once during the long night. I was not all sure I would survive the next four days. And opening night, once an event eagerly anticipated loomed before me more awesomely terrifying than my most hideous nightmare.
I tested my vocal abilities in the shower. That only convinced me that Dennis was going to have to work-a miracle to get more than a squeak past these lips. But it wasn't a total disaster. I did, at least, know all the lyrics and that was one less worry.
Dennis greeted me warmly, unaware of the monumental task laid at his feet. We immediately set to work. As he warmed up my voice, his smile vanished. By the time we had finished, he almost fainted.
"You were right, my dear, you're not a singer."
"I tried to tell you. Is there any hope?
"There's always hope," he said, opening the score. "Let's start at the top and work our way through."
"Little Lamb" was the first song, a solo, a gentle lullaby. It did not go well. Gypsy only has four songs but it seemed like a hundred. Only "Let Me Entertain You" was even mildly passable, and then simply because I could talk my way through it.
I looked at Dennis for an encouraging sign.
"Not as bad as I expected, not as good as I had hoped," he stated flatly. "It isn't so much your singing. Your breathing is way off!"
"My breathing? I breathe like everyone else."
"Quite true, and that's your problem. You have no support. Signers train their lungs and especially their diaphragm to exhale in precisely measured doses. That's why your notes are weak. Your diaphragm must be made out of jelly!"
"I tried to tell you guys this wasn't going to work. But, no! Sandy can do it. Sandy's our girl. Bullshit!" I was on the verge of tears.
"Don't sweat it. You've got three songs---"
"Four."
"Three. Josh said he'd work "Let Me Entertain You" as a talk song. It'll work. You just have to sound sexy and bump and grind a lot. Remember, Gypsy was a stripper, not a songbird.
"Yeah, but what about the rest?"
"Leave that to me!"
He got up from the piano, stood next to me, and placed his fingers just below my sternum, his arm brushing against my breast. "Take a deep breath. Now let it out in little jerks. That's right. Feel how your diaphragm presses against my fingers?"
I felt it all right, and a lot more. My jerking breath wobbled my tit over his arm. It felt mildly stimulating. He removed his hand and replaced it with my own.
"Again," he instructed.
I pumped my air, my own arm feeling the brush of my tit. He stood me in front of a mirror and I repeated the exercise several times more.
"Good. Take off your sweater."
"What!"
"I want you to watch your diaphragm as we begin to train it. Jerking is a start. Now we refine."
I reluctantly slid the sweater over my head. Dennis stepped behind me, his hands arcing around my sides to place warm fingertips below my breasts. He gently ran along my rib cage, felt the full extent of the muscles which controlled my breathing.
His touch was seductive and my nipples began to stiffen. I watched them rise in the mirror, not fully erect, but growing, pressing firmly into my bra. I took a good look at Dennis, an older gentleman, graying at the temples, his face beginning to fill with character lines. He was attractive in an older sort of way, his eyes soft and kind, his skin smooth, his body fighting valiantly against middle age.
He was still explaining the proper use of the muscles beneath my awakening skin when his hands slipped beneath my bra and curled around my breasts. A slight raising of his wrists slid my bra along his hands, allowed him easy access to my still rising nipples.
"Dennis! What are you doing?"
"Trying to get you to relax."
"That's definitely not the way to go about it." 1languished beneath his gentle massage and immediately thought I should remove his hands. Pleasure stopped me, forced me to stare into the mirror. He kissed my neck as he fondled my breasts, my nipples occasionally peeking through kneading forgers.
"That's it," he said," control your breathing. Inhale as I twist your erect little nipples. Exhale when I squeeze your supple melons. Twist and in. Squeeze and out."
Dennis increased his speed, my breathing matching his pace. He twisted until my lungs would hold no more, then squeezed in tiny jerks to force my diaphragm to work harder and harder, to learn control, to expel the air in measured quantity.
"Stop!" I finally said, cool air sought in desperate gasps," or I'm going to hyperventilate."
"Sorry. I got carried away." His hands returned to a slow massaging of my excited tits, his fingers exploring their contours in circling sweeps.
Something hard pressed into my ass and Dennis rocked his crotch across my backside. His hands slid down my stomach, entered the top of my jeans. My tits stared back at me in the mirror, red, swollen, joyously happy. My hips swayed in opposition, rubbed a burgeoning cock into a raging erection. His fingers tugged on my lower abdomen, pulled my pussy up the seam of my jeans.
My hands flew to his hips, slid behind me and fumbled for his belt buckle. Each of us loosened the other's pants. Our hands returned home to strip away unwanted clothing, to lay our crotches bare. I stood before the mirror, my bra above my tits, my pants around my ankles, my knees parting to open my pussy to his fingers, his hands, his cock, whatever he chose to use.
He pulled my hips against his, his hand pushing his tool between my legs, his cockhead poking beneath my pubes. His head gazed into the mirror, and I clamped my thighs around him. He immediately pumped between my gripping legs, his cock brushing along my quivering lips. His dickslit opened and closed as his head appeared and disappeared within my bush.
His hands slipped over my hips, dove into my crotch to pull back on my hair, to expose my pink beginnings. We both stared into the mirror, four eyes locked onto the natural loveliness between my legs. I had no idea what this had to do with teaching me how to sing, but I wasn't about to question it, had no intention of stopping what he now begun. I was already hot and getting hotter, his peeking prick a turn-on almost as good as any I had recently had. I couldn't see very much of Dennis, just his cockhead. But just witnessing my own body tremble and grasp at his stiff organ was exciting in itself.
His fingers curled into my slit, pulled and separated, shot my clit into view. He pulled and tugged, his hands forcibly displaying more and more of my pink interior, stretching my skin to open me wide, to let him gaze upon my closed but begging hole. I watched beauty unfold in intimate detail, petals opening to offer nature's treasure in needed display.
My nipples were fully erect, pounding, my tits rising and falling above a tantalizing twat. I didn't know what to do with my hands. I fought the urge to touch myself, to cover any part of the wonderful view dazzling my eyes. I thought of touching Dennis, to feel his warm flesh, to grab onto his dick and squeeze his hard flesh into my palm. But my hand would only get in the way, keep his moistening head from reaching beyond the confines of my consuming thighs. I let them dangle at my sides, allowing Dennis full control over the pleasant proceedings.
His hand sidled up my stomach, released my snatch. One hand rested upon my navel, pressed me tighter to him. His other hand reached to his cock. He bent over, forcing me forward. I doubled over, my hands reaching to the mirror to keep me from falling. My ass spread against his hairy belly as he guided his cockhead between my lips. I worked one leg out of my jeans and parted for him, took his flaming tool into my hole and sucked it in. His lubricated head slipped up my cunt quickly and easily.
My face was practically smashed into the mirror, my elbows bent with sublime penetration. I pushed out, locked my elbows, ground my pussy along his incoming organ. I gazed beyond my hanging breasts to watch him enter me, to get a look at the man who claimed my box. His balls were clinched up next to his body, brown and gray hairs swirling over the surface.
I tried my best but couldn't quite get his entire staff buried inside me. He shoved and pushed, wriggled and twisted, but it just wasn't going to happen. I had most of it, and what I had was good, but I needed to have it all.
"Grab that chair and hang on," Dennis instructed. "I'll make this work."
I pulled the chair in front of me, clamped both hands onto the seat, and wondered what he had in mind. My legs lifted into the air, one on each side of his hips. In he came, all of him, every inch of succulent meat gliding into my snatch.
"I'm going to fill your wheelbarrow," Dennis announced. My tits flopped madly as he pumped his hips in deeply penetrating thrusts, drove himself full up and backed out until just the very tip of his dick rested securely within my gripping hole.
Gravity made this a more stimulating position than I had thought possible. My box wasn't the slightest bit stretched, and yet his cock felt gigantically huge and totally filling, as filling as Brian and Joe combined, one cock with the glorious feeling of two.
I was disappointed when I looked back in the mirror. Dennis' shirt covered his chest, kept me from knowing the full nudity of the man possessing my pussy. I didn't know why this seemed so important, but it did. Maybe it had something to do with equal rights. I was for the most part naked, and I expected him to be as well. But as his steady thumping of my juicing twat returned my gaze to his bouncing balls, thoughts of anything but enjoyment was cast aside. His nuts had lowered a little, wobbled between his thighs as his dick advanced and retreated.
"Sing!" he commanded.
"Now?"
"Sing, damn you, sing!"
"Little lamb, little Iamb," I began tenuously.
"Not a lullaby!" he shouted, slamming into me with greater force.
I thought this was a little kinky, but sang out loud and strong. "If Momma was married--"
"That's it! Sing it with soul!" Dennis pumped harder the more I sang. His cock became a metronome, licked off a steady beat which I followed precisely. Each spot in the song where I was to punch a note, his cock accentuated the power of my delivery with a driving stab from his steel-hard rod. He knew every innuendo of the music and I was quickly learning.
I sang my little heart out as he fucked away at my quivering box, giving my voice a much needed vibrato. This song took on new meaning, had erotic images behind ordinary words. A hint of apprehension grew in my breast as I approached the end of the song, the end with note I had earlier had great difficulty handling. But my aroused body surrounded apprehension with rapture and completely smothered it. I belted the song out like Ethel Merman, full voiced, fearless, shaking the room with power.
Dennis picked up the tempo, raced towards the end of the song, his metronome clicking rapidly within my tremulous cunt. The note approached. I became aware of a mounting orgasm, momentarily, then lapsed into the luxury of a banging boner, my vibrating voice box erupting in perfectly formed notes.
"Sing out, Sandy. Hit it!"
His cum slammed into the back of my pussy at the exact moment I hit the final note. I nailed it, right on pitch, fully supported and sustained for the duration of his splattering ejaculation. His jerking body laid a heavy vibrato on my voice, but that had nothing to do with my excited achievement. A huge smile plastered itself to my face as I clipped off the note. I had sung the entire song without error!
Dennis lowered my legs, allowed his semi-soft cock to slip out of my cunt. My unrealized orgasm withered into obscurity. I turned around to gaze at a slim and slender dick. It had felt a lot bigger than it now looked. It was kind of cute, but nothing I would have actively pursued. Not like Blayne.
"Wonderful!" Dennis exclaimed. "Sing it just like that on stage and you've got it made."
"Are you going to be there to fuck me?"
"If that's what it takes!"
We both laughed at the thought of the two of us humping our brains out so I could hit the high note. We both knew all I needed was the confidence. Now that I had done it once, I could surely do it again.
I reached for my clothes and Dennis stopped me. "No you don't! I've discovered the secret of your success and we're going to use it."
He stripped himself and sat at the piano. My feminist notion of equal rights had been put in balance so I removed both bra and jeans the rest of the way. We tried "Little Lamb" again. It wasn't much better than the first attempt, more of my attention pouring onto his skinny dick propped up by his balls, than on the song.
"Just as I thought. You sing from your pussy. Very well." He circled around to face me, grabbed his baton, and pressed the rewind button on a portable tape recorder. As soon as the tape stopped, the baton went into his mouth. He twisted it around, and the bulbous head dripped with his saliva. "Spread your legs and we'll try this again."
I wasn't sure what he had in mind, but hoped it was as nice as the wheelbarrow, or so he had called it. I willingly parted my legs for him. He reached out and set the tape recorder in motion. The beginning strains of "Little Lamb" reached my ears as his hand reached my pussy. His finger entered me on my first vocalized note.
"Sweet," he said, feeding me more the baton. "Flowing. This is a lullaby."
His finger gently rocked my cunt, swayed me into a drifting trance as lilting notes issued from my throat, from me who couldn't sing. The smooth and gliding motion of that slick finger carried me easily through the entire song.
"Fabulous," he said, turning off the recorder, extracting the glistening baton. "that's it. You filled it with emotion, tender emotions direct from the heart."
"I don't think that's where they came from!"
We spent the entire morning naked and singing, my pussy producing the desired results. Each time we went over a song, Dennis used less and less stimulus, fed me his finger in smaller and smaller doses. By lunch, I was singing every number on key without prodding.
"I knew you could do it." Dennis sat at the piano, his chest pumping with pride.
My own chest swelled up at my miraculous accomplishment. "I never knew I could sing!"
"I had my doubts when you walked in here this morning. You should be proud. You worked very hard."
"You've worked a miracle. I don't know how to thank you."
"I do. Let me make love to you. Not to make you sing. Just a man and a woman in pleasure." He sat stark naked in front of me, and his face turned red.
My hesitation must have told him I was not too keen on the idea, because his hand pressed his cock down between his legs. "My goodness," he said," look at the time. You're supposed to meet Josh for lunch in fifteen minutes. Guess we'll have to postpone our pleasure."
I was relieved and didn't know why. Fucking him was not at all out of the realm of possibility and would probably be quite enjoyable, if it was anything like what we had experienced earlier. However, climaxing would have been nice.
"Some other time then," I said, retrieving my clothes. We dressed and I could tell he was disappointed, even though he had no reason to be. At least he had cum, which is more than I had done. But I had received a lot more than an orgasm from his expert working of my cunt.
I met Josh for lunch and he mapped out the heavy schedule which consumed the four days to opening. There was barely time worked in for me to eat and sleep. But I knew it was necessary. It was going to demand a lot of hard work on everyone's part to get me ready for my debut. My success at Dennis' hands soon wilted beneath the challenges still ahead of me.
This afternoon belonged to Randy. to refit the alterations done for Carla. Tonight, and the next three days belonged to Josh.
I said a silent prayer as I finished lunch and headed for the costume shop.
CHAPTER TEN
Four days flew past me with lightning speed and it was suddenly opening night. Three more hours and Josh continued to feed 'me lines, gave me the cue words, forced me to recite the dialogue I was sure I already knew. He was unrelenting in his thoroughness. I had almost convinced myself that he was more worried about tonight than I was. Almost. I was more than worried, I was scared silly. I had practically lived in the theater, and it was closing in on me with no possible escape.
For the past four days, I had eaten like a bird and sleep had been a joke. Every time my head hit the pillow, a song rang out in my ear, or dance routines jostled my feet beneath the sheets, or dialogue screamed in my brain. They all conspired to keep me awake.
Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me going, keeping me alert and on my feet. Adrenaline and raw nerves. I was tense, keyed up, and ready to explode. I had to do something to get me calmed down, to settle my churning stomach, to untie the knot of nerves threatening to immobilize me. And Josh persisted, followed me everywhere I went, refused to let up.
I had finally had enough and turned on him. "Look. I'll make you a deal. I'm going to climb into a hot tub and try to get this body relaxed. If I don't, I'm going to go Looney Tunes."
"But we need to go over this dialogue. The more we do it, the more--"
"Hear me out. Once I'm in the tub, soaking away my cares, let's run the show from top to bottom. Once! Then you leave me alone, let me do the show, and we can talk about it afterwards. Deal?"
"Just once?"
"Once. Take it or leave it," I said firmly, my mind made up, my body craving warm water to wash my troubles down the drain.
"I'll take it. But you're not leaving the theatre."
"Hadn't intended to. There's a tub in the bathroom I share with Debbie. That's where you'll find me." I turned away, my power play successful.
It didn't take me long to get the tub filled with hot, soothing water and plenty of bubbles. My tits had just sunk beneath a mound of suds when Josh burst through the door, with no knock, no announcement. He carried a stool, placed it next to the tub, and plunked his ass down.
I didn't even have time to enjoy the first lap of water against my flesh before he was ready to begin. The script opened in his lap and the story of Ms. Gypsy Rose Lee rose up with the steam.
I sloshed around in the tub, kept a hefty amount of bubbles covering my nakedness, and repeated my lines. My body was beginning to relax even if my mind was still trapped in the show. I occasionally turned on the hot water to keep the temperature at a comfortable level, and received a piercing look from the corner of Josh's eye ever time I did. It seemed he wanted my entire, undivided attention. He chastised me for doing two things at once.
Skipping over the songs, eliminating the dances and dialogue of which I was not a part, got us through the show in less than an hour. That left me two hours to get nervous all over again, the tub having worked its magic, floating away my tenseness and a small part of my dread.
"By Jove, I think she's got it!" Josh said with a cockney accent.
"God, you're great. Four days and you've got it down pat." He threw the script down on the stool, leaned over the tub, and threw his arms around me. Then fell into the tub, clothes and all, a startled look on his face.
Water splashed over the edge as he thrashed about, dunked my head beneath the surface, and stretched his body out on top of me.
"Josh!" I screamed as soon as I forced my face above the waterline. But his mouth on mine kept me from saying more. His hands searched my body beneath the rippling waves, found my tits and held on. He was obviously not worried about his drenched clothes and had no intention of leaving the tub.
"Get out! I'm in her to relax."
"I'll tell you what it's like to fuck Blayne."
"What? You're kidding. Are you trying to tell me Blayne is gay? Boy, have I got news for you."
"Blayne? Gay?" Josh laughed and shook his head. "Not Blayne. He says he's bi, but I don't believe him. Oh, he fucks guys all right, but only because he's convinced he can fuck his way to stardom."
"But that means ... then you're ... "
"Nope. Not me either. I truly am bi. I love sex in all its forms and wonderfully endless combinations. You know what they say, 'A hole is a hole."'
"Well, go plug some other hole. I've got two hours to show time."
"I can't believe your passing up the opportunity to hear all about Blayne's glorious butt. Oh, don't look so surprised. I saw you at the party. You couldn't take your eyes off him. I've never seen a woman want a man more in my entire life. Even while being so expertly fingered!"
"You saw that!" I wanted to drown myself, bury my head beneath the water and never come up.
"Everyone saw it. It's been the hot topic of conversation ever since: You have no secrets, my dear. The entire company has seen your pussy gobble up Dave's fingers. You're already a star!"
He removed his hands from my tits and peeled away his sagging sweater. I just stared at him, my mind trying to digest his news, wondering how I was ever going to face my fellow performers. I could forget about modesty. Everyone I knew had seen my cunt at work. I was so devastated, wallowing in self-pity, that I didn't notice Josh until he was standing above me, his pants and shorts just leaving his bare feet.
He stood above me, soapy water trickling from the end of his limp dick. It seemed my life had become a succession of sexual encounters and this would be just one more to add to the list. I laid there and let him lower himself on top of me.
He kissed me, one hand attached to his tool to work it into a substantial offering. I was a bit surprised when I found myself kissing him back, my pussy coming to life, reaching out to touch his balls.
I pushed back on his shoulders, held him away from me. "You flicked Blayne?"
"Other way around. But I did do an excellent job of swabbing his body, if I do say so myself." He grinned, prouder than proud.
"Blayne fucked you?"
"All that meat right up this tight little keester!"
"I can't believe this. This is too kinky for my taste," I said, struggling beneath him, wanting nothing more than to get away.
He pushed me back into the tub, his dick hard and plowing into my stomach. His hands pinned my shoulders against the porcelain. "There's nothing kinky between you and I. You're a woman. I'm a man. Where's the problem?"
"Problem? Problem! God only knows where you've stuck that thing. Or worse yet, what's been stuck up you!' It isn't right, it isn't--"
His hard mouth once again silenced my tongue. I wriggled in the water, banged my hips from side to side. I couldn't break free, then suddenly didn't want to. His tongue worked feverishly in my mouth and I knew the pleasure Blayne must have known with that darting probe up his tight rear end. Josh placed one arm across my chest, held me secure, while his free hand forced searing dick meat between my legs. But he didn't have to force the issue. My legs opened freely, giving him anything he wanted; his mouth and tongue a mesmerizing hypnotic.
My ass slid along the slippery surface of the tub as his cock inched up pussy, sloshed soapy water ahead of his steady climb. He plied dick to me in a long, single stroke until he reached the back of my cunt. Then he raised me up from the water, brought his legs forward, brought me up to sit on his dick.
My tits flattened against his chest as he drew my mouth back onto his. He rocked his ass on the bottom of the tub, and it was up to me to do the rest. I bounced on his dick, rippled the water to slap the sides of the tub. Bubbles foamed around my waist. Warm water sloshed inside my cunt as I slid up and down his proud staff, my pussy a sponge like washcloth clinging to his turgid prick.
My lips release a soft moan of pleasure, the buoyancy of the water floating me on a cloud. Billowy lather built around me as my excitement grew, as I tried to work hot pussy to the base of his mighty shaft. My ass jiggled each time I slapped soapy cheeks against his thighs, sent tiny bubbles racing to the surface in an explosive stream. But I couldn't reach all I wanted, had yet to experience his entire cock within me. Our position, though stimulating and pleasurable, would not allow Josh to feed his tender meat to me from stem to stern, his mighty mast but three-fourths swabbed.
With his hands massaging my back and my weight bearing down on his lap, something had to change or I'd never sink his ship. His open mouth and thick tongue raced along my upwardly stretched neck, my nipples reached out to brush his chest in tingling strokes as my pussy rose and fell. And still I wanted the change! I'd have to give up this present set of arousal for one I wanted even more. My cunt remained the object of ultimate satisfaction and it demanded the full length of cock that it now only received a part of. It would settle for nothing less.
"Josh," I said through a breathy sigh," I need more. I want it all!"
My hands were on the sides of the tub, had steadied my body, had aided my forcible strides. They held me in place as Josh slid his hands down my back and gripped my ass. Then they left me, placed themselves behind him as he leaned away. His prick pulled on my pussy, attempted to stretch it closer to his stomach. I leaned away from him, increased the pressure of his dick against the front of my cunt as Josh raised himself up. My body slid down his pole, the lips of my snatch finally swimming around the base of its desire. We shared the workload equally, each responsible for the other's climax.
The water churned around us as we humped in this new position, the position that would give each of us what we urgently wanted. Passion became lust. Gliding sailboats became engine-powered barges plowing through the waves. But our rhythm eventually matched, turning barges into a sleek ocean liner slicing through the tide. Our sea calmed, lapped upon our chests, caressed our bodies in soothing waves. Our crotch hairs swayed in the wild undercurrent of runaway lust.
The full length of Josh's cock rubbed the ceiling of my cunt as we pulled and stretched away from each other. It was better than Bobby, his hooked prick only scraping me with his head. Josh kept a rigid mast plastered securely to my flesh, our combined efforts working it sensuously along a deepening groove.
"God but you're beautiful! You hair's slicked back ... no make-up ... and still you're gorgeous!" Josh spoke and never missed a stroke, his cock on a steady course.
"You're not ... so bad ... yourself."
"Eat my dick! What a fucking ... hot ... pussy!" He shook his head, his lips vibrating and wobbling around a shaky noise like something from The Three Stooges. Both of his heads shook together, my cunt banged from side to side by a bulbous, throbbing hunk of claiming flesh.
"Oh, yes! Do that again!" He took direction well, rocked his hips with greater vitality, slamming his firm cockhead deep inside me. I squealed above him as he slid his ass from side to side, as I jumped up and down. Every inch of my wet interior was raucously touched by his thrilling tool.
"I can't take it!" Josh groaned. His body trembled, shook like a vibrator on high, his hips jerking upward in powerful thrusts. His head fell back, his stubble covered neck stretched, his mouth fully open in a quaking, high-pitched cry which escaped in tiny bursts to match the pace of his prick.
Had I not known better, I would have thought him to be in pain. He could have stopped, he could have withdrawn, but he didn't.
My pussy squeezed around him, sucked on his shaft, kept his body quivering. His biceps were turning red as he pushed against the bottom of the tub, and raised his hips higher and higher to meet my descending snatch. He did so in gurgling slaps beneath the surface of the raging waters. Then I drove down harder, jamming his shaft into gripping pussy.
"Cum! Oh, God! My cock's full of cum! Jesus, it feels so good! Make it spit. Make me squirt into your pussy. Do it!"
I didn't know vat more I could do. My cunt sucked and gripped and released, slammed down hard and clamped around his girth as I pulled away. I rode as expertly as I could, my concentration in my box, my pleasure mounting in the knowledge of what I was doing to his cock. It swelled within me, its temperature rising as more and more cum fought its way up to his swollen cockhead. It grew magically harder, muscles straining to capture the eventual eruption, to delay the release as long as possible. Josh was barely able to control his body, his skin flushed, his face skewed in sheer ecstasy, the muscles of his legs knotted. Still he pumped, still he refused to cum. His mouth remained open, his voice silent, only air allowed to rush in and be violently expelled.
His impending climax was obvious. Mine seemed not to exist. But I didn't care. My pussy was being gloriously fucked, and cum or not, the enjoyment was excruciating; my body relishing a good thumping. Climax seemed less and less of an objective as his voracious pounding grew in intensity. It came closer and closer to erasing the pleasure-producing tingle of trapped semen.
His hands and feet pushed up from the tub, his hips rising to the surface of the water. His back arched. The top of his head dipped into the bubbles. His body locked, and only his cock bobbed back and forth in the confines of my hot box. A basso profundo scream erupted. Stopped. His voice jumped an octave and screamed again. Short. Clipped. Then jumped another octave. His final scream slid rapidly up the scale as he laid his load in my cargo hold. The first eruption was long and flowing, a continuous stream of flaming cum, followed by rapid-fire bursts of hurtling torpedoes.
Fully out of the water, my pussy drank him in, lapped up his ammunition and craved for more. I held myself still, let my cunt work its magic upon his cock. Receiving creamy cum is tantamount to orgasm itself, the hot feel of swirling sperm a turn-on of incredible magnitude. Depression sets in when the thing turns off its flowing faucet, the offering never as much as desired.
Josh dropped into the water and totally submerged himself when the final missile evacuated his silo. His head popped up, spitting and sputtering, his face aglow. "Wow!" was all he could say.
My pussy kept chewing, tried to drain more cum from his softening submarine. It was not to be, it had taken all it was going to get. Josh tried to keep his crotch feeding me his cock, but it was losing its rigidity too quickly.
"Sandy, I'm sorry, Well, I am and I'm not. If you know what I mean."
"I know. There's nothing to be sorry about. It was wonderful!"
"But you didn't cum."
"That's not mandatory. Nice, but not required. That's the difference between men and women."
"One of them, you mean. I can see a couple of very nice others." His eyes scanned my tits.
Completely soft, my pussy had trouble hanging on and his folded sail slipped away from me. I slid my ass along his legs until my bottom encountered porcelain. He raised his knees, hugged them to his chest and gently rocked in the water, smiling.
"You look like the cat who just ate the canary," I said, following it with a chuckle.
"Hardly. But let's save eating for another time."
"That's not what I meant."
"Yes it is. You can't fool me. I know a nympho when I fuck one."
"Josh Leamon! You bastard!"
"Cut the crap. You love it as much as I do. But what does it take to make you cum?"
"A lot more than you've got asshole!"
"Is that what you want?" He stood up and turned himself around. He bent over, his hands pulling his cheeks far and wide. Water streamed over his crack as he wiggled his butt in my face. His balls jiggled between his legs, his dripping hair a slender thread beneath his wrinkled scrotum.
I slapped him squarely across his cheeks with all the force I could muster.
"Yeah! That's it, Sandy. Spank my ass. Whip me good. Then lick my hole with your hot tongue. Eat me, just like I ate Blayne."
"Get out! I wouldn't suck on your ass if it was the last hole on earth!" My hands pounded the water in frustration. He was such an egotistical bastard that anything I did would surely seem a come-on.
"I'll go. But only because you've got a show to do. We'll continue this conversation later." He straightened up and turned around, his limp dick covered in drenched hair. I almost laughed right in his face. His cock was sort of gnarly and gross, the thick vein almost as large as the rest of his dick. And his head seemed totally out of proportion to the size of his shaft, like nature had begun a masterpiece, got bored and slapped it onto the nearest available stem. But I con-trolled myself, swallowed my giggle, chose not to offend my director.
He climbed out, of the tub and grabbed a towel, removed the, object of my merriment from sight. He talked about the show as he dried and then dressed, reminded me of cues and timing, of this entrance and that. I blocked him out. I knew the show as well as I was ever going to and didn't need any more instruction.
"One hour," he said, as he strapped on his wristwatch. A voice came over the speaker to announce the same. My assistant had been bumped up to stage manager and her simple statement released the butterflies in my stomach.
"Leave me," I said, my voice almost a whisper. "The cast would love to see your smiling face. And I have a lot to think about."
He leaned over the tub and kissed my forehead. "You're going to be a star. Trust me."
I sank into the water as the door closed behind him. "A star," I mumbled and submerged my face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I did it! I actually got through the entire show without any major fuck-ups. Even my songs went well. Sure, there were a coible of little goofs here and there, but nothing the audience would have noticed. And that's what counts.
My dressing room was packed as soon as the final curtain fell. Everyone rushed in to congratulate me. My ego inflated, my head swelling from the enthusiastic compliments laid at my feet. The excitement was damn near sexual and nearly matched the thrill of the audience's exuberant applause. Everyone was convinced that the revival of Gypsy was going to be a hit. Even Carla, who had watched from the wings, hugged me over her crutches, told me I had a good chance of becoming a fine actress and seemed not to hold a grudge.
People slowly cleared my dressing room tog et ready for the party at Sardi's, which is no longer the "in" place it once was, but still a traditional gathering spot on an opening night. Only Randy remained, leaned against the door with something held held behind his back.
"I've got a surprise for you, Ms. Gypsy Rose Lee," he said through a huge smile.
"If it's what I think it is, just keep it in your pants!" I stared at him in the mirror, and continued slapping cold cream on my face to remove a ton of unwanted makeup.
"Sandy Buck! What kinda guy do you think I am! There's more to life than sex. There's also fashions and fabrics," he scolded, bringing his arm out from behind his back. "Check out this little number."
"Oh, Randy! It's gorgeous!"
"If you're going to be a star, you have to dress like one. I can just imagine the conservative rag you had planned for tonight." He shuddered his body and laughed.
"Oh, God. I've been so busy the last few days, I hadn't even given it a thought. You're a life-saver!" I removed the last of the cold cream and makeup from my face and turned around. Randy held out the dress.
My fingers trembled as I slipped it over my head and straightened it out. My face lit up when I stood before the full-length mirror, got a good look at how wonder-fully it fit my body. The silver sequined top was cut straight across at the neck line, then dipped in the back in gently falling folds, dipped low enough to be sexy yet high enough to hide my bra. The shoulders were slightly padded and the sleeves, black, bell shaped voile with a band of sequins circling their lower edges, broke at my elbows. Black crepe flowed from the bottom edge of the sequined top, cut a couple of inches below my breasts in a Bolero Jacket style, and cascaded in care-fully placed gathers to ripple to the floor. It was stunning--sexy with a touch of conservatism.
"I love it!" I squealed.
"There's More," Randy said, holding out a shopping bag. "Sorry I didn't have time to wrap them up for a better presentation. Just a few accessories."
I dove into the bag and came up with a pair of black, opera length gloves; rhinestone, dangle earrings; a tasteful rhinestone bracelet; and black, high-heeled shoes with a tiny, rhinestone bow on the top of each. He had thought of everything.
"I promise to take good care of it," I said, throwing my arms around him.
"Do what you like. It's yours. My little gift to the newest star on Broadway. Just remember me when you're famous."
I pulled way, laughing and giggling. "One shoe does not a star make."
"We'll see. Now hurry up and trowel on the makeup. We want to make an entrance, but we don't want to be the last ones there! That is, if you'll allow me to escort you to the ball."
"I'd be honored," I said, giving him a curtsy.
We arrived at Sardi's to a round of applause. I was instantly besieged by a host of reporters, all asking questions at once, my mind so confused I couldn't answer any. They finally calmed down, selected some sort of order amongst themselves, and asked me their questions one at a time. It seemed my Cinderella story was big news. Josh finally saved me from the onslaught and whisked Randy and me away to his table. I sat next to Debbie, the real star of the show, and gave her a sheepish grin.
"Not to worry, honey" Debbie said, patting my hand. "Those news hounds were all over me earlier. This is your hour; enjoy it. They don't come that often."
There was a steady stream of well-wishers, and I even signed a couple of autographs! Me! Little Sandy Buchowninski from Kankakee, Illinois! This was a dream come true.
I spotted Rob in the crowd. I had sent him a ticket, wondered if he'd show up. I was still in love with the guy, my crazy schedule the only real reason we had broken up. But recent events made me question if it was him that I loved, or his ten inches. My sexual horizon had been so expanded, I was no longer sure.
Rob suddenly stood next to my chair. "Congratulations, baby. You were wonderful," he said, taking my hand and raising me to my feet. He put his big, plumber's arms around me, drew my body next to his, and hugged me in a strong embrace.
"I wasn't sure you'd come."
"Wouldn't have missed this for the world! You're going to be rich and famous someday. Exactly how much are they paying you for this?"
"What kind of a question is that!"
"Just curious. I wouldn't want them to take advantage of you."
"Right," I said sarcastically and pushed myself away.
He leaned in and kissed me, his mouth hot and pressed firmly against mine, then grabbed my hand and - cut a path through the mingling throng.
"Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see soon enough."
He pushed open the door to the men's room and in we went, my struggling useless. Surprised gasps and quickly closing zippers followed us as Rob led me into one of the stalls, locking the door behind him.
"Let me out of here!"
"Come on, Sandy. You want it as bad as I do." His lips closed around my mouth, stopped any further conversation, one hand on my shoulder, the other opening his fly.
I did want him, his hot mouth convincing me. I just wasn't sure this was the time or place. But we had begun and passion took over, my body putty in his hands, my mind recalling the provocative images of my dream, of the men in the restroom.
I leaned against the stall, let him have his way with me. His hands raised my skirt, his hard, throbbing dick pounding between the teeth of his zipper, the huge head staring straight up at me. I had forgotten the monster size of his member. Saying ten inches is one thing, seeing it, having it, quite another.
I had never been fucked standing up. My repertoire was about to increase again. And I had definitely never fucked in a men's room before! My libido leapt into overdrive as these two realizations hit my awareness head on. I was almost sorry the door had been locked. Now I wondered what it would be like to fuck in front of a crowd. True, I had already done it at Josh's party, but I didn't know it then. I had foolishly assumed that no one paid us any attention. I wanted to know that I was being watched, to feel the thrill of a thousand eyes locked onto my pussy as it gobbled up cock.
Rob's hand on my clit shattered my thoughts, pulled me back to the facts of the moment. He had slipped away my panyhose, but struggled with the mound of fabric between us. One hand magnificently toyed with my growing clit, while the other bunched and mangled material. He finally gave up, moved both hands to the skirt and inched his erection in for the kill.
Quaking shudders rocked my body as his head kissed my hairy lips, widened them around the gentle slope of his mushroom. He fed me slowly, as though this was the last time this cock would ever know this pussy and meant to study its contours in minute detail every step of the way. Wonderful minutes passed before my hungry hole closed around the corona of his cockhead, slipping into the groove on his mighty shaft.
My head rolled against cold metal as his pace ballooned my desire, created a craving that bordered on insanity, my yearning for all of his luscious cock beyond reason. I tried to wriggle my box further down his steely prick. His hands left my shoulder and dropped the fabric, latched onto my hips, and stopped my actions, pinned me in place. He had total control, meant to have it his way.
There was nothing I could do but throw myself at his mercy, pray he would give me what I desired. I knew he would eventually, but impatience set my mind on fire, wracked my body as thought I were engulfed in a furious, barbaric fuck. I squirmed and writhed, jerked my legs, but his powerful hands held my box motionless. My lips gripped and chewed in a desperate effort to draw him in further, to propel him inwards and up-wards. His self-control was inhuman, his cockhead stopped just inside my anxious hole. I was next to tears, my mouth a trembling opening of tiny gasps and whimpers.
He began again. An inch of his torch grazed past my hole and stopped, sat in silence. His tongue darted between my teeth and another inch glided into my pussy. We were finally making progress and my cunt exploded with excitement, wrapped dripping walls around him, then pulled away, then wrapped again. My legs squeezed my cunt tightly around the little it had, made sure it wouldn't get away.
Rob must have had enough of this slow torture. He slammed the rest of his organ up my drooling pussy in a searing stab of powerful force. My mouth tore away from his in a scream of sheer ecstasy, my hips plastered against the wall, my cunt full of raging prick.
Rob lifted one of my legs and we were off to the races, his cock pumping and thrusting in a mad drive to climax. His other hand eased up on my hip, held on more than held back. My hips slid up and down the wall with the force of his jabs, and I did my best to fuck him back, my balance precarious on one weak and trembling leg. My hands gripped his shoulders, dug into his tuxedo, as I held on for a glorious ride.
He bumped and thumped, pressed the metal of his zipper into my twat. I couldn't take him to his base, had never been able to. My pussy just isn't ten inches deep. But there was plenty to grab onto, more than enough to satisfy my desire. Even with only a part of him, his head banged into my cervix on each inriding drive, produced a torrent of tumbling fluids in a failed attempt to extinguish his flaming torch.
"Ah. Oh," came his breathy moans. "I had ... forgotten. But my dick sure remembers. What a cunt. Hot. Swamping. That's my girl. Fuck me ... my ... rich ... beauty!" His voice rose higher and higher, became more and more breathy as his healthy head drove faster and faster.
The stall wobbled around us, squeaked and squealed in rhythm to our coupling, the metal denting and pop-ping against my back.
"I'm not ... rich. How ... can you ... talk ... of money," I forced between groans," at a ... time ... like ... this!"
"Money and sex. Two of ... life's ... greatest," he bit his lower lip, his cock plowing into me with ever increasing force," ... pleasures!" he screamed, stopping as far up my cunt as he could reach. He rocked his ass from side to side, banged himself between my drenched walls.
My pussy quivered beneath his savage attack, his beating head inflaming my flesh, my walls tumbling like the walls of Jericho. My hips were thrown from side to side, knocked my cunt into his bombarding prick. My hands dug into his shoulders as an orgasm rushed to my fevered snatch, blazed a scorching trail through my jostling insides. But I drew in a deep breath, held it, halted its release. It churned and boiled, increased the already tremendous shaking of my body, shook my pussy in slapping blows against his cum-filled lead pipe.
Rob continued his sideways fuck. I could do nothing more than pour concentration on the damming of my orgasm, the dam weakening with each slam of his cock against its feeble construction. I desperately wanted us to cum together, to combine our orgasms in a blaring blast that would knock both of us off our feet. I had no idea how close he was. I didn't know how much longer I could resist the pounding waters against my dissolving dam.
"Hang on, baby. I'm going ... to shoot cum ... right up ... to your ... eyeballs!" His final word drove his cock in as far as it could reach.
My dam cracked open as his cocked rifle fired. Our cum met in a collision of incredible power. We both cried out, our bodies consumed by an explosive release. He splattered and splashed inside me. I poured and drenched on top of him. Each of us came and came, trying to drown the other. Our bodies took over the action, jiggling and gyrating around the sensitivity of climax. Now our minds were free to savor the euphoria of heavenly orgasm.
Tears ran down my cheeks as my body slowly recovered from the rigors of ultimate pleasure. Rob remained rock hard within me, his body drained but his cock always ready for action. He slipped back until just his head remained well within my hold.
"Wow!" Rob said as soon as he caught his breath. "That was a lot better than I remembered! Even if you don't make it as a star, you've got a real money-maker between your legs!"
I slapped him hard across the face. "I'm not a whore. Not yours, not anybody's!" I pulled my pussy off his cock, raised my pantyhose, and straightened my dress.
"Chill out, Sandy. I didn't mean it that way."
"Money and sex. That's all that's on your mind. Good luck fording it," I said, unlocking the door. I rushed out of the room, ignoring the polite applause from the men gathered around our stall. I knew that was the last time I'd ever see Rob and I wasn't the least bit regretful. He only wanted me for sex and now money. But I no longer needed him.
I stopped outside the restroom, made sure I was put back together, and said beneath my breath," Good-by, Rob, you son-of-a-bitch." I returned to the festivities and haven't thought of him since.
Blayne hovered around our table until he got an invitation to join us in Debbie's hotel suite to await the morning papers and the first reviews. Josh took his leave early on to catch some sleep before his flight to Hollywood. A small group of us headed off to party the night away, my nerves at the impending critiques gnawing away at my stomach.
Debbie had ordered plenty of food and champagne and everyone lounged around talking and joking, trying their best to relax.
"Hey, stop guzzling the booze. You'll make yourself sick," Randy said, grabbing the glass from my hand.
"I can't help it. I'm a bundle of nerves. What if the reviews are bad? What if they hate me?"
"Calm down, kid. They're not going to hate you. Besides, there's nothing you can do about it tonight."
"Big help you are!" I sat on the sofa, fidgeting and squirming, until I could sit no longer. I paced around the room, making small talk here and there. But my nerves refused to calm down. Martin, Randy and Blayne were huddled in a corner, their arms clasped around each other's shoulders like a tiny football team in secretive conference.
The huddle broke, all three of them striding in my direction. Blayne grabbed me by the arm. "You're coming with us."
The three of them steered me into the bedroom, flicked on the lights, closed the door, and seated me on the foot of the bed. I had no idea what was up and just stared at them as they lined up in front of me.
Blayne hummed a long, steady note, Martin and Randy matching him. Then they broke into song.
"Let us entertain you." They kicked their shoes into the air.
"Let us make you smile." They ground their hips as their jackets fell to the floor.
"Let us do a few tricks." Their ties untied and they unbuttoned their shirts.
"Some old and then some new tricks." Their shirts came off and their cummerbunds fell away.
"We're very versatile!" Their crotches circled 'round and 'round, their hips jutting forward to emphasize the zip of opening flies.
"And if you're real good." Waistbands parted.
"We'll make you feel good." Their pants slipped down their legs and off their feet. Then they turned themselves around.
"We want your spirits to climb." Their underwear bared their butts as they bent over to remove them, spread their cracks before my dazzled eyes. They then turned around and finished the song, locking arms around waists, prancing and kicking like a chorus line.
"So let us entertain you," bump," and we'll have a real good time--yeah," bump," sir!" bump. "We'll," kick right," have," kick left," a real," kick right," good," grind," time!" As they held the final note, they pumped their crotches, their cocks bobbing and flopping. Then they threw their arms straight above their heads and shimmied themselves to within inches of my face.
I laughed and applauded, and inwardly drooled over the three exquisitely different cocks so eloquently displayed before me. The song had never been sung so well.
"It's about time you smiled," Martin said. "Now who will it be?"
"I have to choose? And what exactly is it that I'm choosing?"
"Don't be coy with us!" Randy said, stepping back, seeming to remove himself from the competition.
There really was no choice to be made. Blayne's cock made the other two look like inadequate imitations. My eyes were captivated by it, ran over its length, circled its girth as though they had never before encountered a live and marvellously naked dick.
Out of the corner of one eye, I saw Randy grab Martin's arm and pulled him away. I heard the door open and close in a foggy distance.
"I guess you're stuck with me," Blayne said, his hand sliding down his stomach to pet his prick. "I hope it will do."
I couldn't say a word. My mouth opened, but I was speechless. His manhood had stolen my breath clean away.
His arms lifted me from the bed, stood me on shaky legs as he peeled fabric from my shoulders. His eyes stared into mine and I became lost in dark pools of seductive mystery. I stepped out of my heels as my dress gathered around my ankles. He unclasped my bra and removed it from my heaving chest. His eyes never left me. Then he lowered himself to his knees, his warm hands sliding my pantyhose away from my pouting pussy. I stepped out of them, my knees brushing the fine hairs on his chest, and I was naked before the most desirable man I had ever met.
He pressed his face into my twat and gently kissed all around my slit. My head fell back, my body melted beneath his tender caresses. Then he kissed his way up my stomach and between my tits, stopping to nibble on each. He then continued his journey to my neck, his body sliding along my legs. When his mouth met mine, his cock had risen in glory, pulsed against my pussy in rhythm to his heart. He pushed into me, one hand on my back, one stretched out to meet the bed as we lowered into the lap of lust. But this was more than simple lust, Blayne approached me with passion, with gentle and tender passion that bespoke of love. I returned his emotion with playful kisses, tiny nips at his full lips, and nibbles on his offered tongue.
He left me and stretched out on his side, moving further up the bed. "Come here. Lay down beside me." His voice was soft and dreamy as he patted the mattress, his eyes beckoning, his cock hard and throbbing while his balls reached down to kiss the covers.
I inched up the bed, my eyes traversing his hairy, slender, yet muscular legs. His crotch was the envy of any man; his stomach firm and cut with a navel that was sort of half in, half out. His pecs with their brown nipples centered in a circle of darker brown skin, a hair or two curling around each. Finally, there was his triangle of thicker hair that peeked over the edge of his T-shirts. As I checked him out, his handsome face smiled an angelic smile around sparkling white teeth. Blayne had to be perfection; the crowning glory to nature's lesser attempts.
I swooned at his touch upon my breast, my head sinking into the pillow, my eyes closing in the agony of longing. I let his hands investigate my mounds before even trying to move, my muscles relaxing in atrophied ecstasy. I finally found the energy to slide my cunt closer to his crotch. I was ready to cum and had yet to capture his cock, to feel its size make Rob seem like a pygmy!
Blayne lowered his mouth onto a firm nipple. I sucked in air. My body tensed, then dribbled like warm honey as I oozed an orgasm into my empty box. I couldn't believe it, but languished in its luxury, let the gentle warmth of a first release spread over my flesh. "You came, didn't you?" Blayne asked, his hand still massaging my breast.
"Yes," I said softly. My mouth moved toward his, tried to devour him entirely.
He pushed me away. "No you don't! It's my turn."
He rolled me onto my back. My legs parted. He straddled my hips, lowered himself down, pressed cock into my stomach. He inched his hips down my body, his hardness digging a valley in my flesh until his drooling head slipped between my legs. Then up he came, his knees forcing my legs around him, clamping my sexlips tightly together. His legs held me so securely he had to force his way in. His hips twisted and turned his cock like a finely oiled piece of machinery, drilled a new hole in my cunt. His aim was perfect, as if he knew a woman's anatomy like the back of his hand. His slick head eased between my lips and into my hole. I gasped at his entry, not from pain or surprise, but from the answer to my deep longing, the gift I had so eagerly wanted. It stretched me slightly as it moved within my gripping circle. He had stopped twisting it, let it plow up me in all its normal, natural beauty.
In and in he came, fed me more and more of his extraordinary organ. My legs were so tightly clamped that I didn't know how he was managing to move. But he was, and wonderfully so. I was overwhelmed when his nuts met my pussy, when my hole closed around his base. He was totally in me and my pussy wrapped around him like a tailormade glove, a snug and heavenly fit.
I couldn't imagine where all that meat had gone, my cunt no way large enough to accommodate his mass. Yet I knew the feel of his base at my opening, the warmth of his balls on my lips. Every spot on my interior was touched by Blayne. He wriggled slightly and I suddenly knew where all that meat had gone. His head wobbled in my uterus, my ovaries pressed into my flesh, screaming and as tender as a man's testicles. His entry had been so smooth and desired, I hadn't even felt him pass my cervix, climb up the canal and force my uterus to line up my cunt. But I felt it now! My insides had been rearranged to accommodate my man. Something in my trembling flesh must have told him that nervousness had descended upon my brain.
"Relax. I won't fuck your uterus. Not this time, at least. You need to work up to that. I'll teach you some other time."
He backed out until I felt his head butt up against my cervix, that firm protector that's intended to keep a cock the size of Blayne's from going too far.
Knowing his limits, Blayne began to pump his hips, his ass rising into the air before fitting my glove back onto his marvellous member. He staked his claim in no uncertain terms, dug for gold, scooped my pussy with his shovel-like head.
My second orgasm was there, had been since the first touch of cock to pussy. I fought against its release, wanting to show Blayne I had a little control. But it was not to be. His thunderous thrusts burst my bubble and I showered down on his marauding giant. Either he didn't feel it or he totally ignored it, because his driving pace never faltered.
He kept his promise, gave me only a part of him, his balls slapping my thighs. He rocked and drove, fed cock to me all through my erupting climax as though it were expected, part of the ritual to obtain his own resounding release. I moaned and sighed as I languished boiling fluids around his slip-sliding slab which slammed into every inch of dripping flesh inside my doubly satisfied snatch.
His arms stretched up from the bed, raised his chest into the air, his neck arcing back in a sweeping curve. His ass clenched tighter on each downward and inward thrust, rose higher in a jiggling mass of excited muscle as he pulled up and out. His stabs grew short and rapid, his legs hard and locked. His stomach rippled in jerking jumps as he pumped my pussy full of jism, his cock lurching in jabs so tiny and fast they were almost imperceptible. My intensely sensitive interior quickly filled with gobs of swirling semen, a hot bath of thrilling liquid to wash the walls of my clasping cunt. It seemed to make my own orgasm seem a paltry nothing.
He quivered above me momentarily, then collapsed his moisture-laden body on top of me. My arms were immediately around him, clasping him, holding him tightly to my breast in an enthused embrace. His hands slid beneath my back and his mouth greedily sought mine. Our tongues were sealed in our bonding, put signatures upon our first act of love.
"You cheated," he said, releasing my mouth. "You came twice to my once."
"Sorry, I couldn't help it. I couldn't hold back. You're just too good."
"Compliments will get you everywhere, my dear." He rolled off of me and pulled me in to rest against his shoulder. I looked down his dancer's body, into his crotch. His cock fell to the side, looked as large now as it did when erect. I swallowed hard. I had decided to ask a delicate question. I had to know. If I had any hopes of a relationship with Blayne, I had to know. "Are you bisexual?"
Blayne laughed, his chest bouncing against my cheek. "For God's sake no! Where did you get that idea?"
"Josh."
"Oh. I can explain that. I fucked Josh because I wanted a part in his movie. I didn't get it. And it taught me a lesson. I won't do that again!"
Just as I was about to ask another question, Martin burst into the room. "We're a hit! A fucking hit! They all say the cast is perfect. From top to bottom. I owe you one, Sandy, a big one! Oh, just carry on. Didn't mean to interrupt." He closed the door.
"Hear that? You're going to be a star!"
"A star," I repeated almost in a trance. "A star. Is that why you're here?"
"I don't believe you! I'm here because I want to be. We've got possibilities, and I'm looking forward to testing them all out."
I nestled next to him, my hopes high. I just might be a star. Actually, I couldn't help but be with Blayne at my side!
