Her lover's wonderful mouth felt so good around Rosalind's nipple, on her naked breast. She knew too that it was but a part of their lovemaking, that much much more was to come and that it would be even better. She sighed. Every iota of her attention was concentrated, mentally and physically, on what was being done to her lewdly displayed body.
Gently stroking fingers ran titillatingly, maddeningly over her sprawled body's gentle but assertive swells and hollows. It was lovely. And that mouth; that sweet, darling, tongue-wiggling, lip-moving, nuzzling, sucking mouth!
Her nipple tightened, twitched and fattened under the stimulus of artful, nursing lips and squirming tongue. An equally gentle and loving hand caressed the full plumpness of her mound and inveigled caressing fingers through the fleecy fronds of hair that covered it, soft and smooth as down.
Lying on her back on her own bed in the half-light of the little lamp on the dresser, she groaned aloud in a state of erotic excitation. She humped her hips without even knowing it.
Now her darling lover was imitating a windshield wiper, licking back and forth, clamping that slurping mouth over first one hard titty-peak and then the other. She stared down at the way the dark head leaned far over her and whipped back and forth and she shuddered, loving it and she was assaulted with a sudden extreme desire for more, more, for mouth and loving tongue on her swollen lower lips.
"Um-m-m-m, darling," she sighed out languidly, "that's so-o-o nice! So very, very nice!"
The swollen mound of her vulva was grasped in the lovely hand, grasped and squeezed, so that the tender, pulpy lips pressed tightly together, pressed in on her clitoris, titillated each other with the frictioning pressure, for all five fingers of the clenching hand were moving, moving.
Eager, tugging lips descended to suck the full thick erection of her nipple into the warmth of a humid mouth. Now she was allowed to feel teeth, in a slightly menacing sawing back and forth motion against that budlike tit crest. She began to pant and squirm. Her cunt bucked up against the downpressing hand, which squeezed, hard. She moaned and groaned, unsure whether she felt pain or pleasure-and not put off by the sensory confusion of her brilliant lover's actions.
It was the right hand on her cunt. The left was on her breast, the one that was not being sucked-and now bitten, or at least being threatened with biting. The left hand meanwhile continued to massage her other breast's soft surface, still turning and manipulating it so that it rippled and changed shapes again and again, as if the large pink-white thrust was independently and vibrantly alive.
"Oh... oh... uh-unnnnnnghh! Oh, oh, ohhhhhhh... "
The resilient erections of her nipples dented in, collapsing beneath the pressure of teeth and thumb. Squeezed and gnawed, the left breast swelled its tip into an even greater blood-red tumescence that was like a tiny cock punching up from her chest, spearing her lover's mouth, fucking that loving face.
The hand at her furry, bulging crotch was restless. She felt it quiver.
"I want my fingers in you!"
"All... all right," she replied weakly. Her blood was high; her lust was high and she knew she'd accept anything, anything. "Just... please be-be careful... "
An ungentle palm ground over the tender foliage covering her plump mound as a finger, feeling thick and abrasive, was pushed up inside her beautiful little cunt. The tight, tender pink lips of that dewy gap opened, forced apart into a splayed configuration like a set of parentheses: ().
She groaned, twitching as she felt her wonderful lover twisting tendrils of her downy lower hair and rubbing the soft labes that puckered out from her pussy. Then the passionately aroused woman jerked as if slapped when a sudden thrusting movement sent a finger spiraling into the cut of her parted pink labia. They were very dark, her lower lips, with a hint of purple about them, almost like the bloom of a red clover-which must have been named by someone colorblind, as the big soft blossoms are definitely purplish. "Oh!"
"Damn," her lover said throatily, "what a hot little lake you are in here!"
The finger moved about inside her with a compelling force that soon had her body twisting luxuriously, helplessly, slowly, like a lust-machine in the warm-up stage.
Her nipples-rouged a pale purple or lavender because her lover liked them that way-and clitoris surged up, swelled more and throbbed hard. Gurgles of rapturous delight trickled from her lust-tightened throat.
Streamlets of carnal juices trickled from her lust-widened cunt.
She could not help loving the turning and pistoning of that broad finger right up in her streaming cleft, not in its never-opened, completely unmapped deeps but well inside the satiny, flowerlike labes of that hot little slit. She could feel the fingers rubbing the intensely tender and sensitive inner surfaces of those damp vulva lips that opened forth from the resilient bulge of her pussy. She liked the feeling. It was nice. Almost menacing, like the teeth that weren't quite hurting her nipple, despite its cringing and her nervous heartbeat.
The lewdly writhing girl-she was twenty-five, but still thought of herself and called herself a girl, despite what was going on in the society all around her-sighed and made a gurgling noise. She sprung her legs apart in an obscene Y, letting the blatantly arousing hand play and explore as it pleased at the hot slut-chamber of her wildly aroused cunt.
The hand left her breast. She heard, felt, then saw it patting around on the bed. She helped, touching the cylinder of pink plastic and watching it roll-within reach of the questing fingers. She sighed.
Ummmm, yes, Roz thought happily, the vibrator will be lovely!
She watched the hand as if it were a thing alone, belonging to no one, just a disembodied hand bent on her pleasure. It wrapped around the pink vibrator, lifted it from the bed, braced its flat end so that it stood there on the sheet like a miniature missile or rocket ship ready for takeoff. Pressing it down, the hand turned the main part of the cylinder, which was hot pink. The vibrator came to life, humming under the impetus of the two brand-new alkaline energizers she had slipped into it just yesterday afternoon, to give herself a really good one just after she had emerged all glowing and warm and pleasure-seeking from the shower.
Soon it was nuzzling her pursed mound of Venus, buzzing away, its tapering plastic nose seeking the very top of her moisture-oozing sex slit, where lay the secret folds in which her clitoris lay, the gristly little bulbil of slippery, erectile flesh that brought her the highest pleasure.
"Huh!"
That was it! Ooohhh yes, yes, the buzzing, shivering vibrator was pressing right into the slice of her sex now, right onto the twitchy trigger of her clit. And it was moving, moving, gliding around and around and up and down on her needy clitoris even as it shivered violently, smoothly in its battery-guided vibrations.
The nakedly sprawled Roz closed her eyes and concentrated. She lay still, letting it happen to her, letting the vibrator have its way with her.
It began to build up in her. With the vibrator pulsing steadily over her twitchy, erecting clit, she moaned like a wounded thing. Her whole organism became a vibrator, pulsing and throbbing with a tingle like pulsating electrical current.
Her breasts, proud and prideful breasts that were smooth and distended and yet alive like quivering jelly, seemed to balloon. They tossed from side to side with her frantic movements. Rapturous waves were coursing all through her and hot fluids seemed to pound in her abdomen.
She lay writhing and sighing, shot through with tremors, absolutely beautiful in her sweaty, passion-ruled nakedness, with her legs wide and warm fluid seeping lewdly from her scarlet-slashed crotch.
"Annnnh," she moaned, "aaannh, annnnnnn-hhh, aannnnnnnnhhhhhh-AHHHHHHHHH!"
"Feel good, baby? That's it-hunch that pretty pussy, grind your hot little slut's trigger on this good old vibrator."
Her hips danced, helplessly and spasmodically. Under her, the sensation-soaring girl's anal sphincter contracted violently. The cheeks of her ass splayed, trembled, tightened to thrust upward against the hard buzzing source of pleasure. She reached up with both hands to squeeze her kneeling lover's nipples, murmuring soft words of endearment shot through with grunting groaning animalistic noises of high pleasure and passion and rising, rising sexual excitement.
She screamed.
She began to cry.
Sobs jolted her and tears ran side wise from her upturned eyes over her cheeks and down, tickling her ears, wetting her hair and the sheet beneath her.
And then her insides exploded.
Her jerking body came apart and she convulsed and spasmed, naked and lewdly hunching and jerking, her cunt seemingly leaping up and reaching for the vibrator as she cried out and squeezed shut her eyes in the blinding glare of incandescent ecstasy.
The orgasm went on and on and the vibrator slithered in between her swollen cunt lips, pressing into her frighteningly-and buzzing and buzzing against her clitoris.
Then, covered with sweat and gasping, she went all weak, practically collapsing in a surfeit of sensuality that left her breathless and limp.
She lay that way for a long while, full of love and peace, dying the little death and in love with it.
At last she opened her eyes. The room flickered, then hazily swam into focus. She looked up into her lover's eyes. She smiled.
"Oh Charlotte! That was lovely! Lovely!"
"I'm glad," the other woman smiled. She had laid the vibrator down, against the outer edge of Rosalind's left leg. "I do love the way you pop your cork, little girl."
Roz smiled, passed a hand across her own breasts, shivered. "Now it's my turn," she said.
"Did you like the feel of my teeth on your nipples that way?".
"Yes... it was scary," she said uncertainly. "Do you think you'd like that?"
"I know very well that I wouldn't," the larger woman said. "But I thought maybe you'd dig it. And my finger in you, too. You know I can dig on that."
"Yes-s... I did... that was a little scary, too. I-I felt it once, just the tip, just short of hurting. Right against my hymen."
Charlotte nodded. "Yeah. Well, I don't have one of those. It took a lot of time, a lot of years, but I like fingers up me, now."
"And tongue." Roz smiled. "I know you like tongue, Char!"
Char shuddered. "Yeahhhh... "
"Well, you just lie back now, and-or would you like to straddle me and let your breasts down to my mouth?"
"Christ no! You selfish slut-my legs are shot from kneeling over you so long."
"Ooooh, poor Char... lie back then and let me make it up to you."
The larger woman did, stretching out on her back, small almost hard tits standing on her large, thrusting chest, the nipples so dark they could be mistaken for black in the dark. She was dark, though far from black; a big, olive-skinned woman with black hair so curly as to be almost unmanageable and a great mass of curls clogging her lower belly and running up like a bushy shrub and sending out a single tendril to her navel.
Rosalind, who was five-foot-three, moved on her knees along the sprawled, darker body of her lover, who was five-eight and whose wrist bones were as big as Roz's arm well above the wrist, whose great dark columnar thighs made Roz's look like a child's. Indeed, measured just under the sulcus of her buttocks, Char's thighs were twenty-six inches in circumference, which was two inches more than her smaller lover's waist measurement.
Strangely, Charlotte Madlock's chest measured thirty-eight inches while the other woman's was only thirty-four. The difference was that Char's widely spaced, moon-shaped, extremely firm and hard-nippled breasts would fit into A-cups, while her friend required bra size 34-C. The first measurement was back and chest, the second breasts. Except that Charlotte absolutely did not have to wear a bra and never never did-while Rosalind always holstered her jumpy, jiggly, swingy breasts.
And both of them liked it that way. Roz loved the fact that Char was big, strong, bigger than she herself and had those nice small tits with the twiggy little nipples that were so hard. Her own were like sponges, large for a woman of twenty-five who remained a virgin and had never had male lips on her breasts. Of course she'd had a number of female mouths on her tits... and Char had had many. Their relationship and their roles were clear, though Charlotte wasn't one of those dykey women Roz just couldn't stand.
She had a lovely pussy too, in this mass of twining curling glossy black hair, a pussy that had been torn open by rape when she was only thirteen, ten years ago and yet her pussy was strangely tight and small, too. Roz knew that; she'd had her fingers and tongue in that hot little snuggery many times.
She fondled it now, gazing fondly at the high-mounded black thicket, kneeling between the other woman's long, big legs that were open for her. Propping her head comfortably up on a doubled pillow, Char watched the way Roz's titties hung down and were never still as the girl knelt between her legs, bending more and more forward so that her naked ass poked higher and higher into the air and her hair slid down to dangle past her face, hanging loosely and swaying like her breasts.
"Ummmmm," Rosalind said from her throat, "I just want to eat you up!"
"Baby-eat me up! If I ever get enough of that sweet mouth and hot whore's tongue of yours, sweetheart, I'll tell you!"
Roz shivered. She liked words like that and Char knew it.
The black-haired younger woman's tits were not as sensitive as Roz's. Roz knew it, and determined to pay her lover back for all her pleasure and her sore legs, sent her mouth straight to the heartland.
She sent her tongue all over the inner surfaces of those hot, perspiration-damp thighs. The hollows were not as pronounced as hers, in those thick olive columns, but they were there and she traced them out and the ridges of tendon that formed them. Her tongue slid across Char's lower belly, crossing the upward rising line of jet-black hair, just above the top of the seam of the brunette's cunt.
Char sighed and shivered a little at the feel of' warm breath riffling the hair on her mound. Then she grunted, for her kneeling girl-lover had run out her clever little tongue and had touched her just the barest micro millimeter above her clitoris. The tongue moved, while Charlotte held her breath and made little moaning sounds of happiness and need. She felt it, felt it, the other girl's tantalizing her with gentle, brushing kisses, her tongue pressed out between her gliding soft lips, occasionally slipping forth a bit more for a nice wet lick on her needy flesh.
Deep within that black forest of hair, the puffy lips of her cunt opened and closed spasmodically. They stayed a bit more ajar each time, gleaming moistly. The salaciously, lovingly teasing tongue raised hot lust in the big brunette and made her whimper with pleasure, made her almost plead. Secretions welled up copiously in the hot, woman-loving little cavity of her sex. Roz began tongue-whipping the other woman's clitoris.
She groaned, going all hot and wet between the legs and her stomach humped helplessly up and down. She grunted aloud and flung her head back and forth in an erotic frenzy.
"You're teasing me, bitch, bitch, little bitch!"
The slender orifice of her cunt flowed open to flaunt its wet inner folds. Her itchy, throbbing clit reared its proud little pink head. Hot breath whipped over it and it twitched. A wet, stiffly held tongue swiped across its tip.
She moaned and groaned, helpless beneath the marvelous titillation of that sinewy tongue. It was like a whip, a wet sinuous pussywhip that continued lashing her clit and then descended to the meaty lips it now steadily, viciously, carefully tenderized so that she could feel the burning of the strokes of this whip.
The tongue-lashing of her drooling pussy ceased. Roz's tongue was sore. She tucked it back into her mouth and let it rest. Opening her mouth wide, she gathered up the protuberant bulge of a pair of hairy, tight-pressed labia.
She treated the fleshy, supple lips to an overwhelming suction that made the sprawled woman grunt in almost-pain. A heavy sexual warmth was exuding from the mouth of her wildly aroused loins.
The big woman heaved herself partway up on her elbows. She stared. Her eyes sought the sight of her lover, crouching on knees and elbows, ass up and titties hanging, swallowing her intimate elixir and trying to swallow, too, the soft lips of her cunt.
She loved the sight and brain-numbing feel of it: the soft little slut with her head buried between silky, restless thighs and her hair brushing their inner surfaces excitingly; the soft little cuntlapper working, submissively giving, making her whole body lurch and twitch as though enduring hot pains; the virgin lesbian sucking greedily at her blazing secreting cunt!
Slippery fluid burst from her sloshing split and oozed slowly, lasciviously, along her forking thighs. Her clit-button felt like an impossibly tight nipple, like one of Rosalind's big spongelike nipples, the same consistency as the filters Char chewed on when she smoked and a little thicker. It was a great throbbing hard-on, that clitoris spearing wetly from her slashed mound, pulsing hard as lustful pleasure flared in her.
Roz released her oral grip on her lover's cunt and shot her tongue instantly down to the clit-oral hard-on. With a little cry, Char fell back and lay supine, staring at the ceiling. Her hips twisted from side to side in a reaction she could not suppress.
"Eat it up baby," she gasped. "Eat my hot cunt up!"
Roz sucked the stiff passion twig into her mouth and pulled strongly at it. Rolling her eyes up, she saw Char's fingers clamping her own nipples. More clitoral tumefying sent more and more of the hot little staff into her mouth. Roz smiled around it.
I'm sucking Charlotte's cock, she thought and the thought made her shiver. And she sucked harder, pulling at the emerging clitoris that was now past a half-inch in length, longer than a centimeter.
Jolts of intensive carnality made the reclining brunette quiver and shook the dark-tipped hillocks of her breasts. She rubbed them avidly, concentrating on Roz's mouth, on Roz's tongue, while thinking about Roz's titties, then she glided away in her mind, seeing again that huge-breasted blonde she'd seen in the bar-"Stella's"-the other night.
Sensuality became a mighty fire in her, way up in her soggy pussy and up in her confirmed lesbian guts, urging her whole, heated body to life.
She writhed madly as that mastodon-mammaried blonde-no no, Roz, easy little eager-to-please Roz-chewed and sucked her out thrusting, passion-swollen clit, sliding it in and out of her mouth with dedication and sweet skill, like a cocksucking queen.
The kneeling girl reached under and began playing with her ass, finger-stroking the long crack and teasing at the tight little anus while she sucked and tongue-stabbed the big elongated clitoris in her mouth.
I'm a cocksucker, she thought, though she'd never even touched one of those monstrous male rape-tools.
I'm sucking my sweet lover's sweet cock, she mused, though had she been fully aware, that thought might well have horrified her. She'd never have said it out loud. Charlotte would have surely belted her for intimating that she possessed one of those awful organs that had given her such pain when she was just a thirteen-year-old girl playing in the narrow street behind her parents' store.
As for Rosalind, she'd had no experience with cocks. None. She was as tightly locked in the vagina now as she had been at fourteen, at seventeen, at twenty, at twenty-four. She was a woman's woman. She knew that. And she liked to give. That she knew too and she was perfectly happy being that way.
She gave now, gave the hunching writhing groaning jiggling grunting Char all the oral skills she had developed over the years, lipping her, mouthing her, tonguing her, tickling between her large hard ass cheeks, sliding her finger up and down their sweaty crack while she ate her as well as she knew how-which was well.
She felt Char's last tensing, felt the absolute spurt of her cunt fluids-which she licked up and gulped down-and to make it even nicer for the other woman, she slipped just the tip of her finger inside the hot little asshole while she whipped her tongue with blurring rapidity back and forth across the brunette's large clitoris.
Charlotte cried out, hunched, grabbed Rosalind's hair with both hands, shot, quaked and fell back to lie very still. Her breathing sounded like that of the Derby winner right after the big race.
Roz crawled up alongside the large, darker body. "Was it good, darling?"
"Ye-eah, yeah, it was good, you darling little whore! Now turn around and let me get a finger into your ass, bitch!"
"Oooohhhh! Did-did it hurt? You didn't like that?"
"I don't like anything going into my body, slut! You know that!"
"Ooooohhh," Roz repeated sadly, "I'm so sorryy... I'll never never do that again! thought maybe it would be nice-I just want to be nice to you, Char."
"Yeah," Char said, squeezing one dangling pale breast hard and watching her friend's face screw up. "Yeahh."
CHAPTER TWO
After Char had left, Roz went a bit wearily in to take a shower, so she wouldn't have to in the morning. Darn she thought, scrubbing her pussy's strident bulge with care, I wish I hadn't poked my finger in her ass that way, even if it was just the very tip-end! I don't think I'd mind.
Sure, brat, she told herself, but you weren't raped when you were a little girl, like Char was! Poor thing-and all I want to do is make it up to her, make her happy the way she does me. It's so nice to be loved, to be wanted and needed and to do for somebody, to make somebody else feel happy and wanted and needed.
Once she'd showered and dried and dusted powder over herself, she went again to check the door and its locks. Then, naked, she padded into her bedroom. The bed was a wreck. With a sigh, she set it to rights, noting a couple of moist spots. She touched her tongue to each of them.
She didn't say anything about my titties tonight. She always does-I wonder what might be wrong? Maybe I should have asked. But that would seem like I was fishing for a compliment, or bragging or something. She knows I know she likes my jiggly titties. Grow up, Roz! She doesn't have to tell you every time what a great setta jugs ya got!
Life was so uncertain, though, she thought rather sadly, straightening and setting her teeth in the fullness of her lower lip. She'd gone a whole seventeen months without sex before she met Char, a little over six months ago. And now-she'd happily move in with her, or let Char move in here, or better still go, get a new apartment with her. But she didn't mention it. That was Char's place to mention, surely. Char was the decisive one. She wasn't just bigger, she was older... despite the fact that she was actually younger.
She's had a harder life, Rosalind thought. Whatever happened to me? Everything's been easy. I make a good salary, I don't have to watch my diet too much, my boss is nice-poor man!-and this apartment is... well, OK.
"You are a bitch," she told herself aloud. Charlotte came all the way over here tonight and she's still on her way home and she used that vibrator to really give you a good one-and what are you doing, Rosalind the bitch, Rosalind the undeserving? Mooning around because she didn't compliment you on your silly floppy damned tits!
She gave herself a vicious slap across the breast, which made it sting and jump wildly.
And, frowning, she turned to have a look at herself in the mirror that made up the outside of the closet door. Roz wasn't interested in her face and hair just now; she was used to the sight of them and knew she was all right, in those departments. She had not been able to bring herself to examine her unclothed body for years and years. It was still a new act. And right now it was her breasts she was interested in.
So was Terence Herlihy, who lived across the way and one floor up, in another building. He stood at the window of his apartment, which was dark. In the other room, his wife was already in bed, waiting hopefully for him. She didn't know that her meatiness no longer turned him on, that he stood at the window with a pair of binoculars-bought for bird-watching, of course-in his left hand and his cock in his right. For once, that absolute doll across the way had failed to pull her drapes. And damned if she wasn't stark naked, checking herself out in the mirror, or admiring herself, Herlihy thought. She should be!
He watched her watch herself and his right hand began to jiggle his cock.
The smooth-skinned, pink-white projections of her boobs were set widely apart, slung from high on her chest so that they ran down and down like long smooth ski-slopes to the tips, which stood straight out and then rounded sharply, fully back and up a little to reconnect to her chest.
Bullshit on the pencil test, Roz thought, turning side wise and giving herself an appraising look from slitted eyes. and inadvertently, giving Terry Herlihy a good eye-shot of her front. His eyes dropped from her tits.
He admired her belly. Unlike his damned gone-to-hell wife's, it was a tiny roundness, very very narrow, two clearly defined lines that ran up from the hollows of Roz's thighs-hips junction to frame a tiny navel that had been tied so that the knot still extruded, just a little, from its center.
Terry thought that was very sexy. Besides, there was absolutely no bulge to her little gut- but there sure was a swelling below! Though she'd never clipped her pubes, Rosalind could wear the briefest of panties or bikini bottoms without showing a single strand of hair.
Her pubic pelt, Herlihy saw as he stroked his hardening penis, was only a short, sparse patch that ran up the center of her bulging cunt mound. It ended but the tiniest fraction above the upper seam of her pushy pussy's thirsty, spongy, pulpy lips. They were very visible. Terry Herlihy adjusted his binoculars a bit, then resumed fondling his dick as he examined the girl's cunt.
She was almost hairless all over except, fortunately, for her head. Even that full-looking mane was so fine it could have been contained in a single, cupping hand. I'd a damned sight rather cup 'er knockers, Herlihy thought, but let his gaze linger on her lower body awhile longer. She, he saw, was examining her large knockers.
The hollows of the young woman's thighs showed, even when she wasn't tensed but was standing normally. Nice.
Then, from long distance and through his binoculars, he joined Roz in checking out her breasts. About that pencil test men used to talk about...
A pencil could be tucked up under Rosalind's breasts, all right. It could be pushed up between her chest and the undercurve of her loosely hung titties and she could hold it there for hours... her breasts were not the kind that stuck straight out. So long as she was still, a pencil would stay in place. Otherwise, what Char called Roz's jugs were so bumptiously jumpy and jiggly and inclined to bounce and swing that she'd lose the pencil in seconds.
And so what?
Herlihy watched the chick move in to her mirror, to peer more closely. A hot flash hit him when she lifted a hand to cup and raise one of those jiggly breasts. He eased back on his cock-stroking. The thing was high and hard and aching for pussy, already.
The really old aspect or attribute of Roz's jiggly titties was the nipples. They were big. A pencil eraser comparison wouldn't make it. These spongy excrescences were larger and thicker. and when they erected from small pink aureoles, they were even longer than pencil erasers.
God sure did make us all different, Herlihy thought, licking his lips.
Roz sighed. Her breasts were the same as always. Not stiff and large for her chest and fat-nippled. Charlotte just hadn't remembered or bothered to say anything about them tonight, that's all. Maybe she's starting to agree with me, Roz thought. She'd never felt that her titties were much-Rosalind didn't give herself A's on any part of herself.
She sighed piteously, examining her legs. They were too thin, she felt. Not calfy enough. She had ankles like a racehorse, tiny, with their bones clearly delineated. They rose from feet that were size five, highly arched. Again, not wearing a happy expression at all, she sighed.
Had she known that Terence Herlihy thought hers was just about the best-looking female bod he'd ever laid eyes on, Roz would not have been mollified. Secure in her insecurity, she was too accustomed to putting herself down to accept others' efforts to the contrary, without constant reinforcement. Long ago she had somehow got the idea that her face and figure, which surely deserved a B+ if not an A, were in the C- category. She needed the constant reinforcement of Char's commenting on her swell jugs-and tonight she hadn't gotten it.
Unhappily, she turned from the mirror, switched off the light and got into bed. Across the way, Terence Herlihy sighed. He put away his binoculars and with his mind still on the nameless chick he'd been watching, went into the bedroom to shock his overweight wife and give her one hell of a thrill.
Roz, meanwhile, lay thinking about herself and Charlotte and men and that time she'd seen Mom and Dad. She had been eleven and she'd overheard them. She had been frightened by the violent sounds of the bedsprings, his pounding and grunting and her mother's pains and whimpers-which sounded like pain. True, since then she'd heard other women make similar sounds-including herself. She knew now that her mother hadn't been in pain. But that early auditory experience had set her mind and it remained with her still.
She thought about it, without knowing that she herself had been the catalyst to the same scene, which was being played out in an apartment one floor up in the next building over.
The grunting man rammed up that strainingly enlarged cunt tunnel in insensate rut. The tensing of his asscheeks propelled him forward to slap against those of the kneeling woman. She moaned and groaned. Her cunt felt well filled. His entire body felt swollen, filled with lust. He transferred it to her, tamping it in with his hardened penis.
Completely lust-captivated, he fairly threw himself into her and slammed his body against her large upturned ass. The punching jarring fuck he threw between the backs of her shuddering thighs made her want to scream. She did. Fortunately the Herlihy's had no impressionable eleven-year-old to hear and misread those cries, as Rosalind's parents had.
He brought his hands around to manipulate his woman's luscious, sweat-bedewed breasts, lifting the dangling pendants, squeezing them without crushing them. Madly wishing he could fuck hard enough to make her ass swell, to make her hurt and even bleed to prove his city-sagging manhood, the squirming man listened happily to the slap of his charging crotch against her soft ass flesh.
With a generously rounded breast in each hand, he tugged her body back to his and listened appreciatively to her soft sighs of ecstatic delight.
The warm swells of her broad creamy posterior were too firm to crush and flatten, but that didn't stop him from trying. His body swung like a metronome.
Again and again his crotch smacked the jutting ovals of her ass and sent hot cock up her like a length of hot gristle, an unyielding prodding unbending poker that stretched her pussy's wet elastic walls to its whim and made her feel nothing but great and womanly while she knelt to receive it.
"Uh... ummm... oh, oh baby-you do it to me so good!"
He surged in hard. "I'm the fuckinnest fucker that ever fucked! Take that-an' that, an' that!"
Long searing strokes cocked her deeply, deep drives and partial withdrawals creating loud wet squishy sounds.
Salaciously she thrust her tremor-filled rump back against the darling man, her darling man, who was driving her raw-fleshed furrow vigorously along the thick mighty shaft of his rooting organ. Beneath her, her firm-tipped tits were in exciting, almost painfully, tugging motion, feeling far huger than they were.
Her shuddering body jerked strongly backward to impale herself on the firm, fat cockhead tipping that filling, fulfilling stalk of maleness. He stroked her with a cock that was voracious. He knew it would not be long before he filled her with a river of hot masculine liquid. She felt his balls rapping her, his rounded nuts that were wet with her own flowing juices, which drenched his pubic fur as well as her own.
Then, pressing in hard with a shivering grunt, he began jerking, shuddering as he went nigh rigid and began blowing his balls into her torrid tunnel.
Soon they were both drifting away into sleep. She was satisfied with that. Unlike Roz, a "dirty little Lez," she'd have spat on, she had never known an orgasm.
CHAPTER THREE
"Premier Building and Loan, Mister Alston's office. Oh yes, Mrs. Alston-yes, this is Roz. I'll get him right on, Mrs. Alston."
Roz punched two buttons, waited, told John Alston that his wife was on line two and instantly put down the phone before she heard a word of their conversation. Then she returned to folding mailers and stuffing envelopes, a mindless job that left her free to think.
John Alston was such a good man to work for. Such a... a nice guy, she thought. That summed him up best: a nice guy. Considerate, patient, seemingly always calm.
It isn't fair, she mused. It just isn't fair-what a shame that a man like that has to have such a-a lousy marriage! That fact had been apparent to her for a year at least; nice guy John Alston had definitely failed to marry a nice guy wife. And now it was even worse. Mrs. Alston was always ailing and when she called the office, Roz knew it was to make some complaint to her husband and ask him to pick up this or that prescription or patent medicine on his way home.
Rosalind sighed. It did not really occur to her that what John Alston needed and deserved was a giving woman-like Rosalind herself. It was where she was at, in a neo-slang that was already fading; it was her thing; she dug giving and doing for. That sort of relationship worked out well with Charlotte. Charlotte was happy to take.
But-Roz knew something was wrong. Char hadn't been so considerate. Oh, she had loved and brought Roz off, that lovely evening two nights ago. But she hadn't called since and that night she hadn't paid Roz a single compliment. Something was wrong; something had happened. Roz determined to be even more amenable and malleable. She had to keep Char...
... who dropped the bomb on her, three nights after that. Rosalind had been trying too hard to be agreeable and attentive and Char hadn't seemed to respond and at last Roz knelt at the bigger woman's feet and with her hands on her large thighs, asked what was the matter.
Char looked down at her. "OK. I don't think I should lie to you-I don't see why I should. We're both free. I've found a new lover. Or rather she found me."
"Char!"
"Oh stop. You knew we weren't permanent. She-"
"My God, don't tell me about her! I don't want to kno-o-ow!" Rosalind wailed. Her hands clutched at her lover's legs. "Char, Char-no... tell me you're just kidding!"
"I'm not just kidding. And stop scrabbling at my legs."
"CHAR!!"
The scene had grown worse, with Roz unable to control herself-and Char left.
Shattered, Roz cried and cried, beat her breast mentally and physically, told herself it was all her fault, cried some more, broke a little vase and then snifflingly cleaned up the mess, cried some more, vowed to kill herself, cried in sadness and sorrow for herself, poor Rosalind and at last wound down and washed her face. Then she called Char and she apologized and was soon pleading.
"All right," Char said coolly. "I'll come over Friday night."
"Come over for dinner."
"Nope. I'll be there at about eight. And I won't be staying over."
And Char hung up and waved a hand at the huge-titted redhead. "Get me an RC, slut. And then go put some more paprika on those nipples of yours. I like the way it looks-and it's about all worn off."
"B-but-but Char," the overbusted redhead said in a pleading little voice, "It stings, where you bit my nipple. It isn't healed yet."
Char had not yet taken her hand off the phone. She stared at her new playmate. Significantly, she let her eyes shift to the phone.
"All-all right, Char darling," the girl said-she was eighteen and all tight of skin and before Char, had made it only once, when a welfare woman had seduced her. She scurried, her big jugs jumping, naked, the way Charlotte liked them.
Rosalind looked forward to Char's coming over in the same way a girl does to the visit of a boy she's particularly fond of. She cleaned the entire apartment. Bought a pound of cashews, because Char loved them. Spent a lot of time deciding what to wear, then changed her mind and changed into something else. When the bell rang, she practically flew to the door.
Charlotte wore a loose green blouse and black jeans. Her stare froze Roz's arms even as they started out to embrace the big woman with the jet-black hair.
Only a few minutes passed before Roz asked what the new femme had that was so much better than she herself.
"For one thing, she's new."
"We can do new things!"
"Yeah," Char said, popping some cashews, "that's another point. I never even knew this was in me, but... Joanie digs playing tie-up games, you know and... I enjoy it."
"Tie-up games?" Big ash-gray eyes studied Char's face beneath frowning brows.
"Yeah. You know." Charlotte waved a hand. "Like, we play slave, or captor and captive. I tie her up. She's my slave. She has to do what I say. You know."
No, Rosalind didn't know, but she brightened. Her heart was pounding with hope when she said, "That sounds like fun!" She made it sound very enthusiastic and hoped she hadn't overdone it. "You've always been the decider, the director-that's just taking it a step further, isn't it?"
"Uh-huh." Char popped some cashews and licked greasy salt from her fingers.
"Well... well, let's us play slave-captive, Char! You-you just tell me what to do. I mean, I've never played before. But I was in a high school play. I know how to play roles. What should I do? What would you like to tie me with?"
Charlotte studied her. "Hmm. I... just don't... know, if you can... do it right. I mean... you're not slavish."
Licking her lips, Roz dropped to her knees and bowed her head. "I-I've been sent to you, Mistress," she said in a tiny voice. "I displeased the-the sultan!"
"Who wants the sultan's goddamned cock-slimy leavings?"
"The Baroness's, the baroness's," Roz corrected hurriedly. "She-she said I didn't obey fast enough, or lick her well enough and she sent me to you for... training."
Abruptly Char reached out and gave her a hard push, her hand against Roz's breasts, that toppled Roz backward. Her legs seemed to scream at the pull on her tendons, before she got them straightened from their kneeling position.
"I AM the Baroness," Char snapped.
"Y-yes Baroness," Roz said in an even tinier voice. "What-what is the Baroness's pleasure of her... her slave?"
"That you get up, groveling slut and go and bring me a pair of your stockings. And when you return, be naked. You have one minute."
After a moment's hesitation, Roz scrambled to her feet and flew to the bedroom of the little apartment. She popped a button in her sweaty hurry to undress. Jerking open a drawer and whipping out a pair of hose, she raced back to the other woman, breasts swinging. She paused, staring.
Char had stripped to open-crotched black panties. That is all. Roz had never seen the underpants before. They were extremely sexy. She stared at the way Char's bushy crotch bulged out of the opening. Oh-Char also wore black driving gloves.
"Stop staring, slave and hand me those stockings!"
Meekly, submissively, playing the slave, Roz did. Char bade her turn and put back her hands. She did. Soon the stockings were hurting her wrists, as Char bound her hands together behind her back. Turning her, Char roughly grasped one of the naked floppy tits of her slave. She squeezed, hard and with a gasp Roz looked down at the way the black-gloved thumb and fingers were contrasting with her breast, making it look pasty white, sinking into its malleable flesh.
"My other slave," the Baroness said, "is firmer."
Roz felt as if she'd been struck in the stomach. The words hurt long after the sound had faded from the air. She bit her lip and said nothing.
"Kneel, slave and let us see if your tongue is any better than it was before I sent you to detention! This time you can't use your hands- your mouth had better be good."
With her hands bound behind her, Roz nervously bent her legs and eased down onto her knees. She stared at the great black bush of the other woman's cunt and she tilted her head forward, slowly.
Suddenly, Char turned. She bent a little, planting her hands on the arms of the chair she had just quit. The black panties, Roz saw, were open in back, too, displaying the inner cheek curves and bifurcation of the brunette's backside. Char put back a hand and parted those large butt cheeks. "First the kiss of slavery, slave. A nice long lingering tonguey kiss!"
Roz had to please. She did it. Her nose slipped into the crack of Char's butt and she was grateful that the big woman had almost a fetish about staying clean. It would have been a good trick to have presented a smelly ass cleavage, Roz mused. But Char hadn't done that-she loves me, she's not going to be really nasty. It is just a game. Why-I don't mind kissing and licking her bottom at all! After all, I've kissed and licked the other side enough!
With her balance in constant danger because of her backbound hands, with her nose pressed necessarily into Charlotte's rearward cleavage, Roz began licking up and down the long crack, letting her tongue slide over the coiled little anus. She felt Char shiver and knew that what she was doing was good. Just on the point of proving her devotion and willingness by pushing her tongue into that little orifice, she remembered Char's reaction to her inserting a finger there and hurriedly changed her mind. She contented herself with licking.
While the big, stooping woman held her muscular ass cheek well apart from its mate, the kneeling slave let her hot flickering tongue move freely, titillatingly about between the cheeks, licking the valley of her mistress' ass, teasing at the tight little rosette that led to her elastic anal chute.
Abruptly Charlotte released her own buttock, which snapped against its twin in a way that slapped Roz's face and lightly pinched her nose. For a moment, her tongue was painfully caught. Then she resumed licking-but Charlotte straightened and turned so that once again she presented her fluffy bulge of curly black pubic hairs to the kneeling girl.
"All right, Clara Blow-now do me with that ass-licking tongue of yours!"
Roz did, bound and kneeling so that she could use only her mouth and tongue, resting her forehead now against the big woman's lower belly and then, twisting her neck a bit, against one meaty thigh.
She slid her tongue over the gently curving stomach, right over the nylon of the tight-fitting underpants and into the soft coal-black pubic forest. The fur was downy, the pink-tan lips like wet satin once she'd got her tongue in through the mass of hair, which she first had to slick down with her saliva. It smeared her mouth, her cheeks, her nose.
Her lover's feminine essence wafted to her nostrils and she liked it. She licked. Firm warm olive thighs quivered on either side of her face while the standing woman accepted the slavish tribute. Roz licked and licked, stabbed at the rising clitoris and rolled it under her stiffened tongue, stabbed it into the salty hole and slurped forth its rising sap. She licked and licked and she felt the tremble of the bracing thighs and she heard the moans Char tried to hold back and she licked and she made Char come faster than she ever had before in their entire six-month relationship.
Char's legs sagged. She collapsed back into the easy chair. Sitting there spraddle-legged and with her great chest heaving, she pressed a hand over her steaming mound. For long minutes there was no sound in the room save her own stertorous breathing. Roz's wrists tingled.
Then Char lurched to her feet. She bent to shove a hand into Roz's armpit-a nail scratching the round outward swell of her breast-and haul the girl to her feet. Roz groaned and winced.
"Muh-my wrists hurt. The stockings are so tight and cutting in-please, Ch-Baroness... "
"Turn."
She turned and was very grateful and filled with warm feelings and thoughts of love and triumph over that "Joanie", while Charlotte picked at the knots and got the silk stocking off her wrists. They tingled madly with the return of circulation, all the way down to her finger tips. Not over forcefully, Char slapped the smaller woman's naked bottom.
"Into the bedroom with you, slave and onto the bed. Lie face down. " Roz did that and was soon tied down, with a pillow doubled under her stomach, a little uncomfortably, as it lifted her parted bottom. Char teased her, slapped her bare butt a few times, tickled at her anus and at the opening between the lips of her never-opened cunt. Roz was nervous, but it was OK. Char wasn't hurting her, really. Char wouldn't hurt her. She was submissive and giving and she Wanted to keep her big lover-or get her back! When Char got off the bed and left the room, Roz wriggled a little and wondered... but she was tied down and she could only twist her head around and watch the doorway for the return of her big, dark-skinned lever-"mistress."
Char returned. Roz gasped and her eyes went very wide.
Before the other woman wagged a great, dark-brown shaft with a head larger than its stalk. It was strapped in place so that it appeared to be standing forth from the brunette's crotch. A false cock, a leather-covered something made to resemble a Negro's cock and affixed to a broad padded base and straps to turn a woman into a strange androgynous or bisexual creature with an instrument for fuckery. With Charlotte's big frame and height and the smallness of her tits, it was not so weird as that obscene instrument would have been strapped on Rosalind.
Char was grinning.
"Char! What-no! Oh no, you can't mean to-Char DENT!"
The pleading girl on the bed struggled desperately against the bonds holding each ankle and each wrist. She was powerless. She succeeded only in hurting all four limbs.
She continued pleading while, without a word, Charlotte mounted the bed behind her, between her widespread legs, behind her upturned bottom and behind the tight virginal pussy that seemed as to project invitingly backward, just at the edge of the pillow that propped Roz... into position.
With her leather-bound dildo standing up before her, not touching the girl's helplessly proffered bottom, Char smiled down at those plump, upturned demiglobes of firm-packed flesh. A good ass. A nice ass. A very pretty little ass, a couple of pale pouting balls of really choice meat. They were clenched together right now, in Roz's fearfulness-her natural, understandable fearfulness. The cleavage that plunged between the pale, almost white pinkness of the cheeks was all but invisible, just a pencil-drawn line down the center of a heartshape.
And below-that darling protuberant pussy, so sparsely furred, its two lobes so fat and swollen looking, so deeply pink and again the crevice between them was tiny. No big round hole at the bottom like the whores in the pictures Charlotte had looked at, chicks out in California picking up their bread posing for beaver shots with stupid grins on their faces and their legs forked ridiculously wide to allow a clear view into the depths of their yawning, hard-used pussies.
No, this was a tight little vagina, a virginal slit and Char was determined to end its virginity, just like a man who didn't give a shit about this chick-but who did give a fuck...
"You better think sexy, Roz baby, because it'll hurt if you aren't juiced up in there!"
"Char! No-NO! My God, not this way-if-if you want to open me up, OK, all-all right, I'll agree to it, for you, Char... but please please, please, not like this!"
"Just like this, Rosalinda! Just like this. Pretend I'm a man-and get fucked, baby."
"Char-NO!"
But Char was adjusting the aim of the broad, shining mahogany head of the false cock with her hand, which looked pale by contrast, for she liked the idea of a Negro cock, not a damned nasty pink one such as the one that had so painfully opened her up so long ago.
She set the big head just at the tender pink pulp of the well-rounded lips that swelled from the soft light down curling on the bound girl's flamboyantly arching and jutting Venus mound. She eased it forward, watching what she did with glassy-bright eyes, watching the petulant petals shrink aside, pushed away by the dildo's broad snout. She propped open that little mouth a little more, making sure she was firmly ensconced just inside. Red cunt meat appeared, glistening and ragged looking.
It'll be a lot more ragged in a minute, Charlotte thought.
She gathered herself, making sure she was kneeling well up and had slack to lunge forward. As if in love with its probe, the squirming, sobbing young woman's cunt now embraced the dildo's "glans penis," so that it remained in place in the soft vestibule of her uncharted cunt.
"Char-please, oh please don't do this-how CAN you, Char, how-GIIIEEE!"
With a grunt, Char had lunged forward.
The thick leather dildo shot forward between the reluctant lips and slammed its unyielding, insensitive head into a hymeneal barrier thick enough to have brought pain to the head of a man's cock. It stretched, gave, tore, ripped and the leather cock smashed through the virginal barrier in that one swift hard-hunching lunge.
Roz's cry was at the pain of the stretching of her maidenhead; when it tore, the pain was so great that it took her breath away and she faded into an eerie silence. Charlotte worked her broad hips, making sure her big cock was all the way in the girl.
My cock, she thought. My cock. My cock. I'm fucking the little dummy with my big invincible cock, just like that guy fucked me behind Mom and Dad's store!
Her eyes glazed. She lost sight of what she was doing. What she saw behind her suddenly opaque eyes was herself, being raped that time ten years ago and now she saw herself as the man who had done it and who had obviously enjoyed it so much. She rocked her hips and snapped her big buttocks back, then forward in a swift second stroke. And again and again. Sending her cock in and out of the virginal hole, swiftly and deeply, again and again.
Lying almost still but for her shuddering and uncontrollable twitching, the impaled girl only sobbed and made wretched throat-tearing noises and was fucked.
The dildo was now smeared with blood, naturally. The twenty-five-year-old hymen had developed a toughness and it hadn't been thin. Blood trickled from Roz's cunt onto the sheet of her own bed while her cunt seemed to gasp around its invader and her face screwed and writhed in agony.
As if in a trance, Char kept fucking her.
Look at my cock going in and out of that tight virgin pussy!
The girl twitched, jerked, convulsed under the hammering might of the bigger bod against her silken skin. Her bonds hurt her when her body tried to close up, to seek refuge in the fetal position it could not achieve. She felt her tears spurt, felt blood suffuse her face as her rapist sank cock deep in her guts and ground it in with writhing hips and tightening buttocks.
The swollen, leather-wrapped head of Char's cock was imprisoned in the excruciating grip of the girl's belly, her cloven loins, carnally distended by that terrible shaft: leather wrapped and secured over a wooden dowel.
Steadily moving in the ancient movements of rearward fucking, Char reached up to begin pinching her own nipples until they quivered and stiffened and rose, red and spearing like little twigs. She pinched and pressed, squeezed and rolled them some more, all the while hunching to shove her thick brown blood-smeared cock in and out, in and out of the painfully distended soft inner flesh of the sobbing young woman's vagina.
The flow of blood eased off, but the driving dildo kept the skin raw and open so that it oozed.
In and out Char pounded, brutalizing the widespread burrow that had remained closed for so many years, stabbing her up the belly with that bulky, hard stick that was her own lewdly rutting cock.
Her victim whimpered, sure her bound, pillow-lifted body was being torn to pieces by the violent, wild fucking. The agonizing young woman could feel the straining, the back-and-forth abrading, the stretching, the forcible dilation of her narrow little furrow. She had an awful vision of its splitting before the pressure and of blood spurting in crimson gouts from her pussy, which was turning into a gaping, luridly red and ragged wound.
There was no chance of that, of course. The dildo was seven inches long-actually marked off into twelve-plus centimeters, like a round ruler and from behind this way there was no chance of its all being enveloped in the untrammeled deeps of Roz's cunt. Molded like a cock, it was also an inch and a half in diameter, meaning some four and a half inches around, hardly so thick as many male hard-ons.
That information would have been of value to the brutally fucked Rosalind, who was trying to hurl her previous awful thought from her reeling brain.
Bracing herself, she clenched her teeth and held her breath and was raped.
A man would have come swiftly in that tight, blood-hot vagina. But there was no feeling in Char's organ-and very little in Char herself as she ceaselessly lunged and lunged. Panting, she kept on skewering her former lover's new hole. The alarm clock on the table beside the bed, Roz noticed, had ticked off six minutes since she'd been entered. The pain subsided. She felt herself approaching numbness, wished it would hurry and come upon her and envelop her torn pussy in unfeeling anesthesia.
It did not, though the pain did grow less and less. Nine minutes. Ten and still Char strongly fucked her.
Though it was the big olive-skinned woman's intent to be vicious and give pain, to fuck her former lover into insensibility, she failed. She should have stopped after the destruction of Roz's hymen and the first ten or so in-and-out draggings of the ruptured vagina over her unyielding shaft. Every birth since the beginning of mammalian life on the planet proved anew the tensile strength, the ability of a vagina to expand and accommodate itself to any sort of dilation. Elsewhere in their same city, women and girls of various ages were being reamed at this same instant by cocks bigger than the fake leather one Char wore and most were enjoying the sensation.
Despite the roughness of the rearward fuck and her mental anguish, Roz began to realize that she was turning on to the strange new experience of her body's being propped open to house a foreign object that shuttled in and out, expanding her, inwardly massaging her, pressuring her clitoris with its glidings...
She'd have thought it impossible.
It began to feel good. She began to sigh. No male rapist could have given her this experience-he'd long since have come.
Beads of sweat shone on the forehead Char could not see as her victim's ecstasy rose and built up until she was jerking as if in sensual convulsions. Half-blind in her unsane rage of fucking, Char thought it was pain.
No longer a victim, the bound girl panted and jerked in a desperate seeking to assuage the lust that now flushed her pink-and-white skin.
The brutally fucked and now wildly fucking young woman plastered her tits into the bed and ground them there with a strong arching of her back. She writhed her body in carnal bliss. Her surging, gulping love nest ensnared and ensleeved the lewdly ramming horn of leather.
And then Roz... came.
That phenomenon snapped Char out of it. She ceased, streaming sweat and panting violently and stared down at the girl she should have been hurting-and had instead sent into the spiraling pink grip of orgasm-by fucking her for sixteen minutes nonstop.
She covered swiftly. Char laughed, sneered.
"So you like fucking, hmm, you little whore? you love it, don't you? Well, get yourself a man, slut. You can't have MY cock anymore!"
She yanked her hips back. Sssshawwkhh!-and the dildo, blood washed by the vaginal juices that dribbled from it, emerged from that ravaged orifice. Roz cried out and Char was happy to have given her some new pain. Almost, she shoved her cock back in-but she decided against it. To hell with the little dummy.
She unstrapped her dildo, wiped it on a towel from Roz's tiny bathroom and slipped it back into her big purse. Returning to the bedroom, she used a kitchen knife to cut loose both Roz's ankles. Then, after thrusting a ballpoint pen into the girl's still-virgin anus and a spray can of deodorant into her still-gaping cunt, Rosalind's former lesbian lover left her.
Over two hours passed before Roz was able to get herself free and by that time her left wrist was bleeding and both of them were covered with deeply etched red marks from the sawing of the nylon stockings that had bound her.
With great care she eased the ballpoint out of her anus; her cunt had already expelled the deodorant can. Stumbling, walking carefully because she was sore, she went into the bathroom and turned the hot water tap on full in the tub. She added only a little cold.
Roz drank but little, though she kept alcohol on hand. The slug of Scotch nearly tore her throat out, but it gave her something else to think about, for awhile; a new pain. She poured bath oils into the water rising in the tub.
Two hours in that steaming tub full of soothing oil took away all physical pain. Mentally, she was miserable. Char had tricked her, used her, deliberately hurt her. She hadn't tried to bring on that delightful orgasm Roz had enjoyed. And what did it mean? That she liked impalement? That she enjoyed being fucked? Had she been in error all these years, turning away men and turning down offers of dates? Was she... was she not homosexual at all? All her sexual experience had been with her own sex. No male had so much as kissed her. No male hand had ever fondled her. And now...
"She's gone!" she remembered and she sobbed, great tears rolling down the valley of her breasts and into her bathwater.
Char was gone. And Rosalind needed her. Needed somebody; she needed a relationship, needed to give. She began thinking of women. Already she had thrust out of her mind the fact that she enjoyed being fucked, long and hard, half out of her gourd with pleasure-and coming.
She was sore in a half dozen places next day and she called in sick. The marks on her arms looked as if she'd tried to kill herself. Again she had a long, long soak in the tub full of hot water overly laced with oil. Her brain churned and whirled, raced and staggered, with thoughts racing in and out like a stampede of flame-fearful jungle animals. Nothing really came of it-other than her resolve not to call Charlotte, never to call Charlotte and to take refuge in and with herself. She would avoid contacts, any sort of relationship. And she would give up sex, forever.
By the following night she had smeared her vibrator with Vaseline and was anxiously pumping it in and out of her sobbing vagina. It didn't make her come. Only her own fingers on her clitoris did. But within the month she was helplessly addicted to fucking herself with the vibrator and wishing she had the nerve to buy a dildo like Char's. She hadn't.
CHAPTER FOUR
Luck exists. Miracles occur.
Her own nature impelled Rosalind to comfort her boss while his wife's illness worsened. She watched him lose weight, saw him slip away into the frequent distraction of anguished thoughts and it hurt her. She tried to help. She was at least extra nice and worked to influence the others in the office in that direction. She did what she could at work; Roz and John Alston never saw each other, outside the office.
Nor did Roz see Charlotte, ever again.
Alice Alston died. Like the other people in the office, Roz knew that John Alston was better off. Like the others, she went to the funeral. Because it was her nature, she leaked tears-and saw that John did, too. And he was a widower. Yet, because of what his marriage had been, his spirits returned quickly and he became a better and seemingly happier and nicer man than before.
Time passed. Roz comforted him when and as she could, having found in him an object" for her needs for giving. She channeled her soft, gentle nature his way and the time came when he called her one evening, to talk. Six nights later, he called again. To talk. For companionship. A week after that, nervously, fearful of offending, she asked him if it was "right" for her to do what she wanted to do: invite him to dinner. He came. They became more personal in their conversation and when he took her to dinner a week later they didn't talk about Alice at all. Alice Alston was very dead; John Alston was very alive and so was Rosalind.
They went to a dinner theater, loved the meal and the personal aspect of the actors' acting as waiters and loved the play, The Fantasticks. That led him to take her to an amateur production of Sleuth, which they also enjoyed immensely. So they went to a university group's production of End Game-and hated it.
There was no sexual aspect to their relationship-not even a kiss. Nor did they discuss sex. They embraced, but that was now and again, briefly, as friends spontaneously sharing pleasure over some news or experience.
Roz thought about sex. She even thought about John. When she masturbated, almost nightly, she usually thought about him. She wondered if he didn't need sex. Or was he, too, masturbating? Did he have needs, as she did? How long had it been since he and his wife had balled? It was awful to Roz that if he did have such needs, she couldn't help him in that area too. She could not bring herself to mention it, to make any sort of first move, to explore the "normal" sex about which she knew nothing.
Months passed. A couple of men tried to approach her; she rebuffed them. The main owner of Premier Building and Loan, Pete Seaver, flirted with her and she was careful in not responding to the Big Boss. A coworker made what Roz thought was probably a lesbian approach. Roz played dumb. Once she steeled herself, forced herself to go to a lesbian bar. But she soon fled. It was ugly; animals prowling, all looking for sex, some hoping for relationships. It was both hideous and sad. She couldn't do it. And... she fantasized sex with John now, when she masturbated in the dark privacy of her bedroom.
Terence Herlihy and his wife moved away and he and Roz never met.
John. He was about five-ten, neither handsome nor ugly, with a handsome mustache and a good shock of brown hair he kept carefully trimmed. About thirty-five, Roz guessed, without being sure. He was built big, though not massively, straight and erect; he looked good in his clothes. He was straight, a man who always wore a tie and never even wore a leisure suit to the office. A nice guy. He liked cards and some board games; read biography and Time and the new flood of self-help get-it-together books. A quiet man. He'd quit smoking years ago. He was obviously careful about drinking and about gaining weight-and his feet were ridiculously big, like his hands. Yes, he'd played ball in school-second string. He was full of warmth and wasn't unkind even to waitresses and clerks, as so many people were. Though there was a quiet, comforting strength in the man, he was gentle even when Roz thought he shouldn't be.
One night after dinner at Rosalind's apartment, six months after Alice's death, he suggested quietly that they marry, Roz was astonished.
"You're surprised? I'm surprised that you are, Rosalind. Kids call what we've been doing going steady... and I love you. I need what we have and I want more of it. Permanency. To me that means marriage."
Her brain flew, knew a weird mixture of response and emotions. Then she began to weep and when he started to leap to her, she put out both hands in a forbidding gesture. "I've got to tell you something, John."
"About you? About your past?" he asked and when she nodded, blinking at the tears that already stained her blouse, he said, "I don't care. I don't want to know."
"I have to tell you." And she did.
First, about that mind-warping night so long ago when she'd heard her parents balling and had drawn all the wrong conclusions. And about her subsequent fear of boys-of all males. She told him about Mary. The girl at summer camp who had "seduced" Rosalind in her sixteenth year. It was good. They both enjoyed it. It was then that Roz had decided she was a lesbian.
"No! Every psychological study, beginning with Kinsey, Rosalind, says that most people have one or two homosexual experiences, sometime. But-"
"Have you, John?"
"Well, no, but-"
"Don't you see, I was conditioned. Programmed. I thought that... intercourse was some kind of attack. It brought the woman pain. I didn't want that! I wouldn't accept dates, I feared boys, I was fearful of men. So when Mary and I... did that, that summer, I just assumed I was homosexual. Gay, the militants insist on being called. Gay! God, I was never gay-that means happy. I was always nervous, afraid-"
"Were? Always?"
She told him about a couple of experiences, about the almost-three-year relationship with Dolly Helmer, the year living with Freda Wilkinson, the long hiatus after that, the relationship with Charlotte. She told him how that ended.
"Oh my God, Roz!" He looked jerky, as if he were sitting on a hot griddle; he wanted to spring from his chair to her on the couch. "Damn it I-I want to hold you, right now!"
She sighed, yearning. "And-what if... what if I flinch? If I hate it, can't stand it? What if I am a lesbian? It's all over for us then, John. I don't want that. I never wanted this. I-I'd even have to leave the office, find another job. We couldn't stand working together, once we both knew, after... what we've shared, what we've been."
"Friends."
She smiled sadly. "You said you love me, John."
He stared at her. With a sigh he quietly told her, "I love you, Rosalind."
"John... I love you."
They gazed at each other and it was as if the two feet of air and rose-and-gray carpet between them was a sprawling moat, meters wide and infested with monsters ready to swallow them up.
"I... I just don't know... if I love you," she said. "I mean... like a woman loves a man. You know. I-" He was nodding. "I know. And this isn't noble, this is selfish: I need you. I love you. What that means to me is that I want to marry you. If-if it has to be the old way, platonic, living together like brother and sister... I'll do it. I'm not being noble! I want you with me. That's pure selfishness. And-I think you need me."
Very quietly, softly, Roz began to weep. "I need you!"
He moved instantly to her on the couch. Enveloped in his arms, she pressed to him. It was good, being held. A sensation, a genuine imbuing warmth-security. After several minutes, she slid an arm around him. Her other hand lay on his leg.
It was strange. Through all the clothes, he was male. Large, hard, angular. She felt muscle. His thigh, with its overlay of muscle and skin, was nevertheless bony. and too, she knew that it would be hairy. Like his hands. And his arms. His chest, even. She thought about that. A chest that was just two plates, set with small nipples-and hair. Yet, except for the hair-that wasn't much different from Char's chest! She'd seen men, men with clothes on and not even fat, who had more breasts than Charlotte!
Snuggled in his arms, she thought about hair. She liked Char's unusually hairy cunt. Abruptly she remembered Freda, who had refused to shave her legs. Roz had liked those hairy legs- the mark of a male, loved by-lesbians? Roz had asked, practically begged Char to quit shaving her legs. "And have legs like a man? No thanks, baby," the big woman had said. "You want hairy legs, go get a man. And God save you from what else he'll have-all hairy and hard!"
Now Roz said, "I-John... "
He was holding her tightly, stroking her back. That felt good. He said, "Hmm?"
"John... kiss me."
He did.
More strangeness. She would not tell him, not for years to come, why she loved that first male kiss. Apart from the fact that kissing was nice and she needed it, he had the full brown mustache. Roz closed her eyes-and she could almost have been kissing a cunt, side wise. She licked it. It opened. She licked inside, for its juices. She loved it! Then it developed, not a tumid clitoris, but a tongue and she met it with hers, played with it while she nuzzled his mustache, sucked his tongue, felt him sucking hers, held him closer...
Three months short of her twenty-sixth birthday, Roz kissed a man for the first time in her life-and she loved it.
Like kids-old-fashioned kids, perhaps-they sat on the couch in her apartment and kissed, for minute after minute, for ten and then twenty minutes.
When her breast seemed whimpering for attention, she sent her hand after his hairy hand and brought it there. They kissed, with him fondling her breast through blouse and bra and she loved that, too. Their breathing speeded as their heartbeats did. And they kissed on, mouths open and tongues plying like loving wet serpents twining and licking and darting.
"John... John... " she said, lowly, after pulling back until her lips just touched his.
"Ummm?" He was obviously fascinated with her titty; she was glad. She hoped he loved them.
"I... want you, to-to... to come into the bedroom and... and... I want to make love."
She felt him stiffen. His hand ceased clutching her breast, but went tense.
"I... think I'm afraid of that, Rosalind."
"How pretty my name sounds when you say it! How nice your hand is on my breast! I-want you to have it. Love it. Both of them, both my breasts." She held his hand there while she sat back a little to look into his face. "John... come On. Into my bedroom. I want... I have to know. I want you to, to... to make love to me... " Such determination was unusual for her. She had to know.
In silence, he looked into her eyes for a long while. Then, slowly and while holding her gaze, he began unbuttoning her blouse. Roz was so glad she'd worn a button-front blouse tonight! When it was open, he spread it, bared her beige-bra'd breasts, gazed at the pale flesh that was pushed into high deep-cloven rounds by the brassiere. John Alston smiled. Slowly he bent, pressed a kiss into that center line, so that his mouth and tickly mustache nuzzled the upper surfaces of both her breasts at once. A tremor ran through her.
Lifting his face slowly from her breasts, he met her gaze again and held it for a long, long moment. Then he rose and he drew her up with him.
A little frightened, Roz took him into her little apartment's little bedroom. They did not turn on a light. Without saying it both of them thought it best for this, her first time with a man. A tiny amount of light bled in from the lamp in the living room. Like the uptight products of uptight upbringings, they undressed in the dark, in silence. And they joined each other on her bed... like millions of other Americans who weren't aware of their problems.
They lay naked, side by side, fondling, avidly exploring the newness of each other's bodies, stroking and caressing, rubbing and palpating, with her smooth rounded legs and his wirier, hairy ones rubbing each against the other.
A movement of her thigh and his hips tumbled against her, something Roz had never before felt. She gasped, knowing instantly what it was. His penis. His scrotum. His testicles. Cock and balls. The soft package of the male genitals that could be held nestled in a palm- until the penis had grown into a great woman-piercing staff. She trembled. She should have feared that... that dildo of real flesh. But she didn't. She had experienced Char's leather-wrapped dildo and she had come with it in her, gliding and for months now she had plied herself, probed herself, pleasured her confused self with her battery vibrator.
No, she didn't fear the emblem of his masculinity any more than she did the male hands on her, the male chest hard and warm against her breasts, the male tongue constantly moving inside her open, welcoming, sucking mouth with its own busily moving tongue. When she slid her hand between them for a tactile exploration of' his cock and balls, she felt him tense, heard him gasp.
"I want to know how you're made," she murmured.
Again he stiffened. "You don't know... you're-a virgin, Roz?"
"In a way. I'm open-I told you about that: Char-Charlotte. Um. Fascinating!" she said, feeling, fondling, tracing. "And this will grow and grow... "
"That's a guarantee, if you keep-uh!-doing that."
"I will, then."
"I... think I'll just slip down and kiss your other mouth."
Suddenly she clutched him. "Please don't," she murmured.
He understood. A mouth on her pussy was- familiar, the brand of lesbian love. He'd thought it might make things easier. But it wasn't what she wanted and he knew how brave she was, how much determination this soft, giving woman possessed.
While she went on toying with his rope of flesh and the large eggs slung in their furry skin-pouch just beneath, he moved only far enough to get at her breasts with both hands and mouth.
She liked the feel of his cock and balls in her hand.
She liked the hair that covered and encircled them, the hair on his thighs, the feel of his mustache and unsmooth chin on her soft breasts, sagging together as she lay on her side. They were already swelling, those jiggly titties, hardening, flaunting their nipples in thick erections.
"It's... growing in my hand."
"God yes! Just as these marvelous big nipples have grown in my mouth! If I'd known about these beautiful things, Rosalind, I'd have wanted them long, long ago!"
That reminded her. Nipples. He had them too, small, hair-crowded breasts that sprouted small nipples. As hers were larger than the erasers of new pencils, his were a little thicker than the lead in the same pencil. She wondered: Did they erect, too? Moving about, she got her other hand on one of his nipple-twigs. With thumb and forefinger and with gently raking nails the fascinated woman made him groan and twitch-and she soon learned that his nipples were indeed both sensitive and erectile.
Already they knew more than many after years of marriage.
In her other hand, his cock kept growing. Schwantz, she thought of it, from the movie Young Frankenstein. His schwantz thrust, hot and hard, at her thigh. She trembled; the strangely umbrellaed head of that big schwantz was so very close to her voluptuously developed pussy mound. Now her exploring hand seemed to have shrunk. It was small in comparison with his erected cock. Her fingers could only just encompass it!
The gasping, breast-nuzzling man was groaning around her nipples now. He thrilled to the sensation of her warm inexpert hand forming a glove around his virile dick and turning it into a jerking, throbbing bludgeon of violently needy maleness.
He... it... it's bigger than my vibrator! It-it will SPREAD me...
A great shiver ran through her and she tugged at that great throbbing schwantz.
"How-how would you like me?" she asked excitedly. "This way? On-on my back? With my back to you, under you? I-I want you to put it in me, John. I want to... to be fucked."
She felt the tremor her words imparted to his entire male form.
"Just... as you... are," he said and he pushed her with hand and head so that she went easily over onto her back in the classic receiving posture.
He moved over her. Accommodatingly, she spread her legs with a swiftness that was more than willing. He had not even touched her pussy. Now, on hands and knees over her, her first man reached down with one hand to guide his meaty big dick into the bulging, slightly parted and lightly furred cleft of her vulva.
She was ready. Her cunt was ready. It was open, oiled.
She only sighed as the thick, broad, wonderfully warm cock she had fondled but never seen came to her. Its warmth was exciting, marvelous, for only hard cold objects had previously entered her. It slid in and in, parting her soft outer lips, opening her inner canal, spreading its folds and rearranging them, distending the aperture between her labia and then the lips themselves, more and more while the pressure grew and grew within her belly.
"MY GOD! It feels WON-derfulll in meee!"
CHAPTER FIVE
Luck exists. Miracles occur.
Roz was not a lesbian, not homosexual, not gay. She was only a woman who had made it only with others of her own sex. She had never had the normal experience of man and woman, heterosexual lovemaking, fucking. Long ago, scared and confused, she had decided-wrongly. She had never hated men, she had feared them. And now that was ended. Strangely, Char had helped, in her vicious rape with the dildo. After that, reluctantly at first, Roz herself had helped and had prepared herself for this moment, with the battery vibrator she pushed up inside herself and pumped as Char had pumped the leather godemiche.
Now it was a fleshy staff that filled and expanded her and its warmth was wonderful inside her.
He fed her delight and her passion by telling her that he felt her tightness, her muscles, the inner chewing on his cock. And then he drew it nearly all the way out.
She groaned and jerked, her loose-slung tits wobbling wildly-and then she screamed when he threw it back into her with all the strength of his hips. Once inside he held himself above her, on his palms and swerved his hips, so that his thick hard-on nuzzled about inside her.
"It... you're bigger than Char's leather thing, darling. You're bigger than my little vibrator. And I love it, love it! I can feel myself spreading-I love being spread this way by you-by your big hot schwantz!"
"My what?"
"Your schwantzschtucker! Your penis!"
"Oh-we've never talked-I didn't know you knew... what, German? It's always been a dick to me. And my 'bone.' "
"Bone!" She chuckled. "Bone! Yes! It feels like it's got a bone in it-it feels like a great big knob-ended bone inside me! Give me your BONE!!"
He gave her his bone. He fucked her strongly, his weight suspended above her and his cock shuttling, shuttling, vigorously plowing her furrow, making sure she felt the burrowing of his broad dick into the deepest recesses of her body's sexual hollow.
She stared up at his driving, delving, deeply digging body as if in hypnotic trance. His chest moved back and forth and she saw how its twinned plates bulged, just as the muscles of his arms did, propping him above her on his palms so that they were joined only where it counted at the moment. Her throat and mouth made strange little sounds and she didn't notice. The cooing girl-woman's body bounced back like a taut bow each time his carnal lunges drove her down. Hot passion claimed her. Vaginal juices dribbled forth around his dilating plunging cock. She felt herself dissolving in a seething tumult of wonderful voluptuous sensations.
So this was what fucking was like!
This was what it was like to be fucked!
She loved it!
And she wondered: should she be doing something? She thought about it, with his big thick lengthy cock going steadily in and out of her. Maybe-she tried humping up, tightening her buttocks and pushing her crotch up, when he came down... Oh! That was nice! Yes! And her hands. What-his nipples!
She seized on them, played with them, raked and pinched and twisted those male nipples and his face and the sounds he made told her he liked that. Good! She wanted to be a good fuck, a sexual partner, not merely a sprawled woman being fucked.
That merely added to the sheer sensation of immersing his rutting bone in the straining hole of her soaking wet crotch, which was already making his head spin and rocking his body with shudders of extreme pleasure.
His face contorting, he hammered on, hitting deep, lustily and irresistibly into the ripely resilient form of the panting woman. Woman, yes. She was that all right, though she called herself girl. Rising and falling, his loins thudded down on hers with jarring impacts.
Her mound was supple and springy under him, splitting wide to accept the big plunging dagger of his penis. The beautiful girl's eyes fluttered. Her head moved feverishly to-and-fro and her mouth murmured soft responses and endearments to her flailing, humping lover.
The fury of his strokes coupled with his arching, weaving motion of his lean masculine hips kept the smooth and pulpy swells of her labia well spread, stretched extravagantly about the thickness of the heated column that was his sluicing cock.
She was jarred all over, too; the twin pink-tipped hemispheres of her tits were shaking like jelly. And she loved it. The sighing woman's long pliant thighs tensed and flexed, pressing in to him and lifting her loins to receive the sweet abrasion of his driving body.
Again and again he made the well-fucked darling gasp as he sank his fat hard stavelike cock up her sexy little belly and prodded at the deeply seated mouth of her womb.
Violent throes of passion made her upraised legs jerk in spastic movements. He was probing and jabbing her just marvelously, making her pussy feel so good, making her feel so good all over with his pumping between clinging labial folds that frictioned so nicely along his staff and driving into a cuntful of rich, lathery sap.
"Lift your legs," he told her, panting. "Way up-put them over my shoulders. That's it. That tilts you up-and you get it-deeper. If it hurts, let me know-"
"I feel it! I feel it deeper!! It-it hur-no, no, it doesn't hurt! I like it I love it! Yes, oh yes!"
A totally irresistible and beautiful passion was on the ascendant within her satiny form Her abdomen swelled under a building orgasm. The comers of her sexy coral-tinted mouth tilted up in a lewd, sex-hungry grin. They both knew it then: this woman who had thought she was lesbian would never, never get enough.
With her legs anchored on his shoulders, the wildly drenched, gasping girl entered into the strong rhythm of his fucking. Their bodies began moving as one, magnificently united in a beautiful sexual synchronization.
Their loins were a fusion.
Their minds were a fusion.
Mouthwateringly jiggly and alive, her jogging breasts speared forth their nipples and shook madly. Her whole body jerked with spasms of desire and happiness and repeated heat flashes.
"I-I have to-let myself down," he gasped and she met that news with a broad smile and eagerly uplifted arms.
He sank down off his hands; she enfolded him as though he weighed but a few pounds she could not bother to notice. She was sighing and twitching, securely locked now in his muscular embrace and sleeving his welcome prick within that spongy, humid love nest that had never before known cock, that she now could not get stuffed full enough.
He threw it to her harder, pounding her with his muscular physique in a way that she knew with strange pleasure was mashing her titties all out of shape.
Now she felt him writhing his ass, making his belly slide over hers. That was nice. She wished her arms were longer, so she could reach his male butt. It was the source of muscle power that so wonderfully cocked her cunt!
"I'm in love with your bottom!" she announced.
"You wha-you haven't even seen my bottom!"
"I haven't touched it either... can't... reach it, darn it. But I'm in love with it, just the same. It's your dynamo. I know you're tensing it, driving with its muscles. It's what's driving all this marvelous schwantz-this lovely dick into me!"
He laughed joyously and drove in hard and ground then, tightening his ass cheeks like fists and waving his cock inside her, grinding her pussy with his crotch.
He was hunching into a juicy pudding o! oozing lovewalls, the fluid splashing out of her as he drilled deep. His chest heaved with the frenzy of his passion. He had not been prepared for this and had given himself a long slow jackoff just last night, thinking about Roz and gazing at a chick in a magazine who was totally unlike this absolutely stupendous woman. Under him, the panting woman was working now to weave his hips the way he did, twisting and writhing with agile skill.
"You should know... that experience or not... you... are better, far better right now, darling, than Alice ever ever was."
That made her so happy she wept-and humped up and down so hard she nearly hurled his body from hers. Her sweat-sheened nakedness bucked hard. Her splayed legs tensed, jerked, rose, quivered. The tensing muscles of her thighs flexed and bunched. Her buttocks were like a bellows, pumping, snapping tightly together to thrust her upward.
What felt like a foot or two of cock sank into her distended and creaming depths. It was rocky hard, turgidly thick with swelling pulsing blood, inflamed and muscular and so powerful, so lengthy and potent-so wonderful inside her!
A cloud of pleasure passed over her eyes as he rode her with quickening cadence. Then he rose to rock his body, holding himself poised over on his palms with his muscles bulging and quivering again while he pumped free and easy and deep. She watched the shudder of those straining male arms and listened to the sounds of their mutual carnality. Schlu-u-uck... shluppp, went the dipping-pulling, ingliding cock and she trembled, loving the very lewdness of the juicy sounds. They had not been so pronounced with Char's dildo or when she had plied herself, fucked herself with a battery vibrator. She had heard them, then, without realizing how beautiful those noises were and how much more pronounced when it was flesh into flesh, hardness into softness, sweating cock into sweating juicing pussy.
My God my God my God, she thought madly, sobbing aloud, I love him love him fucking me, love him, love this man... LOVE THIS!
"LOVE THIS!"
She had cried it out and she saw his big delighted grin, so that her initial feeling of embarrassment fled before an inrushing wave of happiness that she had let him know how happy she was.
He amazed her, then. He pulled out, all the way out and before she could so much as squeak his hand was at the hot open mouth of her voracious, wet, demanding pussy and he was squeezing it with strength, bunching the meaty folds of her labia, rubbing them against each other after their long distention and total separation by his driving bone.
His mouth came down on hers. His face was sweating. She pressed both hands to the back of his head and her fingers slithered into his hair. It was damp with sweat. They pressed needfully against each other, two of his fingers slipping easily into her cock-widened slit while both of them tried to slip their wagging tongues down each other's throats.
His finger began running back and forth, back and forth over her clitoris. She cried out into his mouth. Her belly surged up; she came in a sweeping wild maelstrom of pure pleasure. Her hand had to leap down to stop his from rubbing her the more-she had been so highly charged that she'd come in seconds and further manipulation of her trigger was only pain.
He wriggled down. His face came in to her breasts.
He licked and sucked each soft fleshy mass while he caressed them and pressed with his hands, making tender manual and oral love to her titties all at once until she was groaning in new arousal and the pink tips were again violently tumescent packets of agonizingly swollen flesh. The hot blood pounded inside them, turning them hot and red and hard.
A spasm of desire flashed through her and she knew her cunt, which she'd thought was surely drained, was leaking new oceans of hot flowing juice. His hands tried to contain the lovely masses of her breasts and the hot pink tips protruded lewdly, saucily between his fingers. He licked them, each in turn. She thrust her shoulders well back, down into the bed and arched her back, so that the proudly pushy bulbs of her chest stood out for more of those sensual squeezes and tongue-rakings.
He tweezered the nipples now and they grew still more, vibrantly quivering and shockingly red, until they were like big crimson lake corks popping up on a tossing pale sea.
Questing, caressing hands slid over her while he tongued her twinned spires of quivering, intoxicating loveliness and arousal. Deliberately he used his mustache as a little brush to titillate their spongy tips.
"Oh-oh yes, I LOVE you sucking my titties!"
"I love them. I love you. I love the way you say 'titties' instead of just breasts or that awful 'boobs'! Titties, titties, I love your titties, titsy lady."
He absolutely lavished attention on them, mouth and tongue and hands. Straightening a little, hunching over her, he grasped one throbbing scarlet-tipped breast with suddenly untender fingers and thumb that caught just at the base of its hardened carmine crest.
When he pressed and rolled the rubbery swelling, the hard red core of her nipple stabbed forth eagerly from the intense pinkness of the small surrounding halo-which had fed most of its flesh up into the tumid bullet he held.
"Uh! Hu-U-unnimghhhh... pl-pleeeze... easy... "
She was ignored.
He knew her. He felt sure he knew her...
It was his pleasure he served, she thought, not that of the quivering whining woman whose fat nips were standing up at attention from the voluptuously high mounds that surely rose from her chest for his amusement!
Plucking the stiff erection out, he tugged, drew her whole breast up from both its mounded position with her lying on her back and even above its normal gently swaying hang when she was standing erect. Meanwhile he pulled and pinched, his thumb and forefinger digging barbarically into the shining aureole and hard hot pulsing point of swollen sponge-flesh it sprouted.
She gasped and writhed and nervousness rose in her. She knew he heard the hissing of her breath as he simultaneously gave her distinct discomfort approaching pain... and undeniable erogenous arousing! Her nipple had gone all hot. It felt heavy, terribly swollen, loggy, at least the size of a ripe, purple plum, rising despite of its weight above a breast she was afraid to look at because it felt as though it had swollen to volleyball dimensions.
Like a man who had never seen a woman before and was fascinated by these foam rubbery projections, like a pirate with a captive whose breasts he at once liked and scorned, like a torture master checking over the merchandise before he squeezed it to bursting or whipped it to bloody ribbons, he tugged and squeezed.
He released it and her nipple snapped back down to her breast like a rubber band. She gasped, but before she could clap her hand over the poor wincing thing, his mouth was all over her breast, licking, lapping, loving, until she knew he had done it all in love-and besides, this made it worthwhile anyhow!
When her entire breast was practically lathered with his saliva and felt just marvelous, he lifted his face and again assaulted her with his hands. Heedless male hands sank into the warm pulpy distended flesh and sought perfidiously to reshape her finely packed baubles to his whim.
The truth about what he was doing and about sexuality, hit her when her cunt flooded and she whimpered-in pleasure.
He let go to begin kissing and softly sucking her nipple.
With her full attention no longer demanded by her breasts, she remembered his schwantz... dick... bone... his cock. She sent a hand down to check-and found it still hard and thick and huge-and very hot.
"Would you like to have that back in you?"
"I certainly would!" She gave it a tug.
"So would, I," he said with emphasis. "And I'd like to be able to get at these lovelies too, at the same time. Would you mind getting up on your hands and knees?"
That disturbed her. That was so similar to the way Char had raped her. He wanted her on hands and knees, she was sure, so he could enter her from behind. What if that reminded her of Char and the rape and she flipped out or something?
She hadn't moved but had tensed a bit and he asked, "Would you rather not?"
"I-" She licked her lips, took a deep breath and felt a great welling up in her of love and desire to please him and be anything, everything he wanted. "Whatever you want," she said.
He slid his mouth down the mounding curve of her breast to kiss her ribs and then his mouth was on hers again and again they kissed long and deep. She herself interrupted the kiss, so that he wouldn't have to ask her again. Turning over, she elevated herself onto hands and knees.
Her hair hung. Her tits dangled. She waited, her heart beating strongly. She felt him moving around, the bed giving and jiggling as he got behind her in the almost totally dark room.
His hands slid over her upturned bottom, tracing out the fine roundness of those tensing half-globes, leaning close to peer into the deep dark crack that split her ass into those two distinct hills. Bending even closer, he kissed each smooth swell. And kissed them, while his hand slithered between her thighs from behind and gently, lovingly toyed with the ripely thrusting bulge of her vulva and the puckered flanges framing her oily chink.
He knelt up. On his knees, he moved in closer. With one hand on a smooth firm ass cheek, he took his cock in the other and guided it forward, between tight-fleshed, shining-skinned thighs and into the cleft fig that in this position seemed slung lewdly beneath her.
She made the slightest little sound at that first contact of broad rounded cockhead with her soft lower lips. Then the clasping grip of those sweet pussy lips accepted his prick and made him shiver in complete pleasure while he again pushed up, up into her receptive belly, to plump and chart and claim territory known by no other man.
He knelt behind her for a long while, motionless, his hands on her upturned butts and his cock soaking rewardingly in her cunt. He was thinking. About her, about her life, her past, her obvious sexuality and instant love of cock and about himself and their future.
She wiggled, like a lusty, impatient animal in need of more than she was getting.
"Darling? Shall I move?"
He pulled straight back some five inches and drove straight back in.
"Aaaaanhhh!!" a great shiver ran through her kneeling form.
He began gliding easily in and out, going in long and pulling far back. A soft, warm glow pervaded her organism and scalding passion hungered deep within her cunt sheath, which had gone instantly agape.
"Yes," he said. "Move."
She did. She hunched backward in totally wanton response, making whimpering sounds of unrestrained voluptuousness and need. Her cunt seemed to close and suck around his plunging, ramming tool, greedily engulfing it deep inside her slippery lower self. Where it belonged. Where she wanted it. Where both of them needed it!
A groan escaped him. The sound made her smile. She'd given that big beautiful bone a damned good squeeze! She worked to do it again, finding arid gaining control of muscles she'd never used except in elimination. That was most definitely not her purpose now!
An aphrodisiac aura surrounded them, almost palpably, as she fucked herself.
Together, the voluptuously united couple listened to the sweet and excitingly obscene squish and slurp as his every forward stroke met her rearward one and drove his meaty stalk to full penetration, then pulled out until only her oozing sex lips still housed the broad, juice-liquored head.
His driving lust pounded her, plumbed and sounded her vaginal depths and she strained. Her efforts made her pussy work his big horn like a wet, hot hand. The kneeling woman's flat little belly heaved up and down while lustful moans flowed uninterruptedly from her throat.
She followed his every fucking movement with jogging motions of her hips.
The very definitely former "lesbian" groaned aloud and hunched, digging her nails like claws into the sheet and stroking his cock with the pulpy pink labes of her pussy-which so much flexion had now turned a deep, blood-suffused magenta. She could feel a tremendous orgasm welling up in her plundered pussy and she could not help panting with hot, animal desire as he pumped her wildly.
A flood of sensations turned her cunt into a churning fury.
Her supple, willowy body quaked and squirmed in tremors of sheer delight and spongy, love-bloated breasts swung erratically beneath her bowed body. The tension grew in her belly... grew...
Her excitement and lust built to a blinding, shattering, unbearable pinnacle of tension and then satiation in her squirting, electrified vagina. She screamed. The humping man behind her jerked, then winced as a grinding, toothy mouth seemed to chew at his cock in a series of contractile orgasmic bites.
He had never known a woman to have a climax like this. Only later did he learn from her that it was the most overpowering and magnificent of her life. Scientific theory or no, her rapidly contracting vagina spewed juices like a climaxing cock. Pussy-come came oozing and dripping out of her as she hit the peak of pleasure. The pearly shower deluged his inflamed rod, doused his balls and dripped to the sheet beneath.
Then his dripping, violently erect dick was swinging about in the naked air, for the shattered woman had overloaded from her first, heterosexual experience. She went limp, sagged, then fell forward. While his cock dripped her juices onto her bed, he stared down at her prone figure and realized that she had passed out.
Almost whimpering, he stared down at that lovely, sprawled body. His hand approached his cock. He jerked it away. His teeth indented his lower lip.
"You've just impressed holy hell out of her, Johnny me boy," he muttered aloud in the room-which might as well have been empty but for himself. "She's actually conked out from screwing. Sure it wants to spurt. Sure, it hurts. But... why not save it, give it to her later?"
Grinning-with his teeth gritted so that the smile looked like an evil rictus-he purposefully dismounted the bed and went into her little bathroom. There was no shower, only the tub Closing the door against the noise, he flushed the toilet-and squatted awkwardly, letting that cold water splash over his scarlet hard-on.
It soon went down, though his stomach felt knotted.
A little white box on the edge of the sink caught his eye. A prescription-and she had printed "TRANQ." on it in large letters. A careful woman, he realized, who made certain she kept her prescriptions straight. He popped one of the little pills from the box and using her toothbrush glass, washed it down.
I'll just be late tomorrow, he told himself. I'll call the moment I'm awake and tell 'em I'm at the bank. As for Rosalind... she can damned well have the day off!
When he returned to the bedroom, she had not moved. She lay in a posture of total abandon, one leg partway drawn up so that her violently colored cunt was lewdly displayed. The glowing face of her alarm clock told him that it was only ten of midnight. Smiling, he reset the alarm, then padded in to check the living room door and turn off the light.
Back in the bedroom, he eased onto the bed beside her, carefully drew a sheet and the bedspread up over both of them and lay flat and still on his back.
Keeping his hands off both Roz and his cock was not an easy task. He prevailed. And he began the semi-hypnotic process of putting himself to sleep by concentrating on a relaxation of each part of his body, beginning with his toes.
John Alston's own exertions in the wild session of screwing, coupled with the hour and her tranquilizer, came to his aid. He didn't get past the muscles of his stomach.
CHAPTER SIX
Roz woke up.
Moonlight splashed into the room through the window like bright silver-gray mist and she easily could see him lying on the bed. He lay on his back, sprawled, his head turned from her. Her eyes ran greedily over him, taking in his bare chest, two distinct but not huge halves, with hair in the middle and tufting around his little nipples, which were paler than hers... the angularly muscled strength of those arms she remembered were strong and masculinely possessive... the virile musculature of his thighs, even relaxed in sleep, covered all over with slightly curling hairs... the slim hips, their bones clearly showing as he lay on his back, so that a cord could have been stretched from one hip bone to the other without touching his hair-decorated stomach...
But it was the soft package of his sex that drew her eyes and her attention and her full loving concentration. So pretty-and so little and vulnerable right now, with him asleep and lying on his back so that his balls hung low, relaxed, and his penis probably wasn't as much as two inches long. She'd have to ask him about that- how could it go down so short and thin and all... rumply looking and yet grow so prodigiously to the great carven beauty of a fleshy club that had pleasured her so much with its coming and going in her pussy?
She trembled. Her armpits prickled and she felt sweat start to bead her upper lip and her forehead. She pushed her hair back, at the same time realizing that her heartbeat had definitely slipped into a higher gear.
Like a little girl, she told herself no-no!
But... it was irresistible. Like a starving little girl's in a candy store, her hand slid out without her being able to stop it.
She traced out every inch of his limp, sleep-relaxed pecker. Her fingers dipped lower, too, so that she could feel and fondle his large balls. She was gentle, careful and she froze each time he emitted a little moaning sound or moved. What a darling morsel of flesh, she thought, cupping it and forgetting herself a little, succumbing to the irresistible urge to tug it up and measure its length in this soft state of relaxation, she did that...
His hand moved restlessly to his crotch. She whipped her hand away and watched his penis topple back over his balls. It was a little longer than it had been. Roz watched him cup his crotch, scratch an instant, relax. She waited with pounding heart and bird-bright eyes, staring-and counting steadily, slowly, to twenty.
Then with great care and slowness, she moved his hand.
And she fondled his cock. It definitely grew, the sagging little piece of pink meat darkening and stretching into a rope. Fascinating! She was practically panting. There was no way to resist the new temptation. , Roz kept fondling the sleeping man's genitals. And his cock kept growing.
Inert pecker became a club. Looking meaner and meaner, it straightened out, sliding so that it pointed up his body rather than down, rising and rising with taut-stretching skin gleaming as though burnished to a high sheen.
As if hypnotized, she played with that marvelous toy. Her fondling hand moved on the boldly bulging tool, alternately pulling and pushing it, back and forth, up and down, in a slow, totally nondeliberate but manifestly titillating frigging of his erected dick.
Thrilling to its rocky hardness and yet the silky smooth, incredible softness of its sheathing skin, she stroked with her fisted hand up and down the beefy pole-and reached up to close forefinger and thumb of her other hand on her own nipple, which she gradually squeezed harder and harder.
Troubled sighs escaped the sleeping man as the soft feminine hand unwittingly masturbated him in a continuing delicious caress. Even in sleep, he could not help moving. He fucked her hand with a relentless, yearning, short-jabbing rhythm that frigged the throbbing erection in and out of her hot little fist.
His cock grew immense and hotter and hotter.
Then three things happened, almost at once. The worrisome stimulation broke through his sleep and his hand started to his crotch... and the alarm clock went off with a frightful clangor that shocked her so that she made a squealing noise... and her hand jerked- and his came down onto it.
His eyes opened. The damned alarm clock, but it was still dark-what the... she was trying to turn it off and tugging at her hand-which his trapped, atop his violently erect cock!
He reached out with his other hand and cupped her dangling breast as she leaned across him to turn off the alarm. Gasping at his touch, jerking at the surprise of it, she nevertheless got the alarm shut off. Then he released her hand and pulled her down on him. Soft breasts splashed onto his chest.
"Some bad girl's been playing with my dick while I slept."
"Oh-uh... " She covered rapidly, meeting accusation with accusation: "Some bad boy spent the night with me and reset my alarm clock! It isn't time to get up."
"Maybe not, but I'm up."
She giggled. "You certainly are! And-you might as well, uh, use it, hadn't you?"
"Seems a good idea to me. Going to make an honest man out of me, after, or are you just like all the others, using a guy and then throwing him over?"
Again she giggled, like the bad girl he'd called her. "No no, I'll do the honest thing by you."
His hands tightened on her at those words, for she had answered his suggestion of hours before, as casually as that. "Good. Shall we do this new hyphenating our last names thing? It's all the rage, little girl."
"No thanks. I'm just an old-fashioned little girl. I'll start practicing signing 'Rosalind Alston' and 'Mrs. John Alston' tomorrow."
"Later today," he corrected, with a chuckle that rocked her atop him.
"Oh, later today then. Uh-that reminds me. If we're going to, uh, make some more love and get to the office too, we'd, ah, better... get started."
The not-so-rudely awakened man laughed. His hands left her upper arms and clamped the cheeks of her bottom, pressing her crotch firmly to his so that his erection was a great burning hot bar between their bellies. The feel of it made her shiver.
"It's a little early maybe, before the honeymoon and all, but-want to try a different position?"
"Hmm? Like what?"
"Like, I'm flat on my back and you're on top of me. All you have to do is straighten up onto your knees, back up and get astride my legs. Then you can... fuck yourself, sweetheart. And I can lie here like a gentleman of leisure- and watch the bouncing of your beautiful titties!"
"Wow! I like that idea! I hadn't even thought about that! I'll bet there are all kinds of ways!"
He chuckled throatily. "You are like a little girl, little girl! Yeah-first I'll teach you all I know, which will take ten or twelve minutes and then we'll buy twenty or fifty books and learn all the other things your not-so-expert future husband doesn't know!"
But she was hardly paying attention; she was already moving backward, pushing herself up with her hands on his chest, looking back and down to see him closing his legs. She swiftly bestrode them, with never a thought for the fact that he was grinning into her cunt, which was giving him a vertical grin in return.
Whew, she thought, a virgin a few hours ago-and already I'm trying a new position! And a little thrill went all through her, very pleasantly indeed. Being naked and getting up over him this way seemed deliciously wicked- especially with her legs braced lewdly wide.
It. was then that she thought about her naked vulva and the air she felt in it meant that it was open. She lowered her ash-gray eyes, to see his gaze leveled directly in the center of her forked legs.
"You have a beautiful pussy," he told her.
She didn't want to blush, but she did. Well, she told herself, that's just something I'll have to get over!
Sitting astride him with his cock standing before the open portals of her vagina, she wrapped a hand around the tall shaft. It felt very warm and male and hard and nice when she rubbed it against the soft complex of her cunt.
She played with it awhile, kneeling astraddle his outstretched legs and watching with avid eyes while she tightened her warm, slender fingers around the rumpled skin around the neck of his bone-the foreskin, she told herself-and eased it back and forth over the big helmet-shaped glans. That big ball-tip of his penis shone like a ripe, wet fruit. It was pretty, she thought and she smiled.
One hand slipped lower, found the furry agates of his balls and began to stroke them lasciviously. She liked them too, all nice and warm and hairy. And they'd squirt around inside their skin-pouch, loosely. Playing with his balls was fun.
Enjoying the sight of her, sitting naked astride him and the thought of what she was doing to him, he lay still. The supine man loved the marvelous sensation of her fingers caressing his testicles and lacing warmly about his hot, erect column of cock-flesh.
A smile curved his mouth upward while she played with his cock and balls.
He watched the lovely way her naked, dark-tipped tits jiggled with her welcome activity. They were loosely slung, her breasts and he liked them.
"I love to watch your pretty titties move when you move your arms," he told her.
"Do you?" Her question was sincere.
So was his answer. "Lord yes!"
Sound was added to his titillation now. Nature's oil had lubricated his prick and her gliding stroking hand and slippery wet noises rose from that marriage of hand and penis. Her breasts jiggled and shimmied and he watched.
"Whew," she said, "this is getting me all excited!"
"You're excited! Oh, woman! You're about to send me up the wall!"
"I think I'll just have this now," she said, staring at the slit in the very tip of his erection's budlike crown.
"You'd better," he warned. "Otherwise, my love, you're going to have a semen-soaked hand and a very empty cunt!"
She put her head on one side. "Hmm! I wonder what that would be like!"
But after a moment a tiny frown knitted her brows. "I just... sit on it? Just slip it right up into myself?"
With his head against the bed, he strained to nod. "That's it. You just slip it up into yourself and sit right down. And you move."
Her thigh muscles flexed and she rose up, hanging onto his towering shaft.
The shivering beginner eased the fat purplish head in between her soft cunt lips, steering it there with a quivering hand. He saw the shiver that curveted through her as she opened herself up with his stiff stalk.
"Ooooohhhh!"
"Amen," he said. "You feel good in there! My cock feels good in there."
"It sure does! It's all so new... I'm becoming a fan of your cock, your big bone, real-l-l fast!"
"A neofan," he said and they chuckled.
Briefly, for she sucked up a breath and then, smiling, she came sinking slowly down onto him, while he watched his erect organ disappear upward into her body. Inch by inch, her pussy's vertical canal sheathed his vertical cock. She was snug inside and very warm and most thoroughly wet.
The soft rounds of her butt came down onto him. His cock was gone, vanished to the hairs. Her tits slung loosely out as she bent forward a little to look down.
"Wow. I really didn't think I could do that-I wouldn't have believed it. Every bit of it! Wow! All that big thing's standing straight up inside me-and it feels good! Good! Oh, yes, it feels so... Good!"
The moisture around his entrenched horn drooled slowly down its veined shank. A long shudder ran through her and her naked tits jiggled captivatingly with her blissful breaths of rising excitement. He saw the ripples that ran repeatedly through her pink-and-white skin. Her eyes were closed.
He reached out both hands to squeeze her doubled knees. "Hey," he said quietly. "Try moving."
Grinning, she rose. Her eyes remained closed. Her labia stretched redly along his staff as her cunt slid up its circumference. Her tongue shot out to lick her lips.
"Uh! Ooooh-it feels good coming out, too!"
"And... back... in... " he urged.
Again she licked her lips. Up and up she lifted herself with strain-quivering thighs, until she was nearly off the thickly tumid shaft. It glistened with a bath of her flowing cunt juice.
She came down slowly, enjoying the spreading dilating rearranging feel of his cock, his bloated meat, slipping back up into her pussy.
He grinned at her, watching with growing delight as this neophyte, this girl of twenty-five knelt over him and pushed down, sucking him up into the rubbery pliancy of her lower mouth. She was down; she rested, feeling that and then she rose and descended again. She was fucking him; fucking herself and he lay still to stare entrancedly up at the ever-moving column of her lithe, jiggle-breasted body in its up and down motions.
"This... is... very-nice!" she panted out.
He laughed in joy. "Very nice-yes ma'am!"
She moved. The sex-charged woman sat astride him in a sensual trance. Her breasts heaved, jiggled, flopped, swung. Her belly fluttered. Pale blue eyelids like fine china shuttered her eyes. Then she threw her head back in a swirl of hair. She rode him. She fucked herself.
His belly was heaving with desire while he felt and watched, her slide his bone up into her velvety guts. Tits jiggling beautifully, lewdly, her body bounced on his. Hard and straight and massively turgid, his shuttling prick cleaned her out with her every downward plunging stroke.
He felt the pressure, the warmth, the wiggle of that full round ass, a sweet pressuring caress on his thighs as she pumped and pumped.
She was beautiful. His lewdly fucking, squirming woman was beautiful, fucking herself on his standing cock. Strong shivers of pleasure surged through his heated prostrate form. Up and down the penetrating spit of his cock she pumped her jiggly hips. Her cunt squished and its juices flew. He loved her tits. They were large, loose, not stiff and outpoking. Impossible to overlook or ignore. With her exuberant movements the big milky jugs jiggled lewdly and gloriously sexily in front of her. Their dark nipples seemed to be going in six directions at once. He stared, entranced-and grooved on the feeling of his cock slipping in and out, in and out of her juicy clamp.
This was the life! Lying on one's back and getting fucked was the greatest! Because even her virginal cunt was wider open this way, he wasn't in danger of coming for quite awhile. Let her pleasure herself-while she pleasures me!
His rigid upright slicked up and down in a constant abrasion of the slippery walls of the furiously pumping woman's vagina. Cunt that had never known cock slithered up and down the big stick and loved it.
He watched the way her hips squirmed, all succulent and womanly and eager. He saw the vibrant twitches jerk in her narrow little belly and he felt the same sort of convulsive movements in his own hotly sheathed cock. And she'd thought she was a lesbian! Christ, the poor darling dummy-man and cock were where she was at! She was going like a machine. The unashamedly passionate girl was perfectly built for love, normal love, this kind of love, cock-into-cunt lovemaking and she went after it with a fantastic enthusiasm and exuberance.
He stared up at her. She was half-hysterical with pleasure and yearning, her cunt's membranous walls jealously embracing the need-throbbing fleshpole that distended it into an enforced new shape, her body jerking fitfully, her mouth gasping and panting with pleasure and passion.
Her delighted lover gazed up at her luscious ultra-womanly tits. He watched them heave and sway up and down, to-and-fro. They were all agleam with lustful heat, each luscious titty-globe jumping wildly with the writhings and contortions of her jiggling hips.
Unable to resist, he reached for those sexy tits.
"O-o-o-o-ohhhhhh," she sighed, at the feel of his fingers on her naked breasts.
He encased the soft conformations of sexy flesh in upward gliding fingers and his palms pressed up against the rounded fullness of their undersides.
"Oh, ohhh... oh yes baby, yes darling... that's nice... play with my titties!"
"PLAY with them! I'm going to pull these big knockers off and eat them up!"
His hands tightened around the curvy expanses of her swollen, resilient breasts, tugging, pulling her irresistibly down toward him while she remained seated astride him with his cock standing straight up inside her. He could feel her cunt, rich with heated oils, clasping the full length of his hard-on.
He let those pleasurable mounds lie balanced on his palms, which he cupped slightly without squeezing while he delighted in their softness and sexy warmth against his hands. Silk, satin, velvet, nylon... none of these would do for proper comparison with the buttery, so-soft sleekness of rich, firm, naked female tit.
His hands tightened more and more on soft ivory flesh, treating her tits like meat, making her really feel it, making her wince so that her pussy squirmed around on his cock in changing squeezing pressures.
Holding her breasts, he began lifting and tugging, guiding her up-and-down movements.
With his fingers pressing deeply into yielding tit flesh, he pulled her down and down, until she lay full length upon him. The hard meat of his hot prick remained inside her. His tongue slithered into her mouth, twisted and turned and then began a fucking motion, in and out between the sighing woman's rounded lips.
Turning her onto her side, he faced her in the same position. Two swift hard jerks of his pelvis, while his hands held her hips to keep her own crotch in position, rocked her so that she gasped and her eyes rolled up.
"Th-that was ni-ice... " she gasped, slowly, languidly. "The... new position... now... now would you just... get on me again and do it to me the right way?"
"There are lots of ways," he grinned. "They're all the right way." Tucking his head forward, he nipped one dark nipple between his lips and pulled strongly.
"You know what I... mean," she sighed, as if weary. "I just want... want to be pounded... "
Her naked, burning body glowed with love and unleashed desire. He came atop her, sprawling between her legs, slipping a hand into the hollow behind her left knee and then the right so that her soles were flat on the bed on either side of him. Then he began shagging her, hard.
The nakedly sprawled woman smiled. His hard body was grinding onto hers, into hers, slamming down onto the muscular bulge of her mound, which tingled vibrantly. Her cunt contracted convulsively, in sheer joyous lust. Soft sounds of great pleasure flowed steadily from her parted lips. She seemed to have an awareness of her every single pore. And every one was filled to overflowing with pleasure.
The insistence of his movements atop her, the feel of his fleecy pubic hair on her own lightly bushed mound, the constant delving pressure inside her of hot, throbbing, tingling cock, gliding again and again over the sensitive pink tissues of her inner body, the wet humid sounds of his in and out stroking... all of it had her nearly sobbing while her hips were thrashing desperately in delirious pleasure.
Ripples of lubricious arousal played over her sweat-covered skin. Again and again he was digging up her pelvis. The clinging folds of her cunt were prised wide open by shuttling, broad cock. Savagely hard, thick hard-on slammed up against the far end of her pussy, where it was sorely bruising her cervix.
Good-it didn't get enough attention anyway!
Soft and exquisitely rounded, her body trembled and bounced under his.
Soft melon tits jiggled and flaunted their nipples. Her mouth was slack. She went taut all over, straining... and came, weeping in happiness.
He raised himself above her, staring into her eyes.
"I do love you, Rosalind," he told her and was squeezed almost violently.
"Oh I love you," she throated intensely.
Holding himself aloft on his palms so that only their humid bellies and loins remained joined, he began to fuck her with love, stroking slowly, gently-and long.
He screwed her that way until it built unbearably up in him at last and he came, in a hoselike spraying of her interior with his seed. She drew him down lovingly while his softening prick still twitched in her and they slid back into sleep. She had never been so happy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Did you and Mrs. Alston enjoy your dinner, Mr. Alston?"
"Very much," John said. "You were right- the lobster was better than good." He showed the hotel's dining room cashier his room key.
"Oh I don't need to see that anymore, Mr. Alston. We know you."
"You know, I've been wondering about that," Rosalind said. "How do you know our names?"
The woman smiled. "I took the trouble to find out who the nice couple in eleven-oh-seven are. And I remembered. Isn't it fun to be called by name where you're total strangers?"
"More than you know," Rosalind Alston said, with a secret smile and a swift swerve of her eyes toward John. "But-why? I mean, why'd you... check on us?"
"Oh, I wasn't checking on you, Mrs. Alston," the woman said, smiling. "You two have made a hit with the waitresses, the busboys and me. You're nice to everybody. You're also nice to each other; we've all noticed. You aren't children, but it's obvious that you're in love. We've had honeymooners here who were less obvious about their love for each other."
John chuckled. "Maybe we should pretend we don't like each other-so as not to draw attention."
The woman behind the counter looked as if she wanted to reach out and grab his hand. She didn't. "Oh please don't! We see enough of that-people who are married and don't even talk to each other. They're surly or downright mean to the help... and all of us hear them pecking, pecking at each other. You people are unique. Please stay that way." She looked down. "Now I've said too much. I'm sorry."
Roz touched her hand. "For what? For making us feel even better than we do? Where's the rule that says everything has to be cool and impersonal in hotels?"
The cashier smiled into her eyes. "You two have been breaking that rule ever since you checked in." She gnawed her lip, looking hesitant and a little nervous. Then she made up her mind. "May-may I ask you a question?"
"Sure," John said, feeling pretty strange; personal conversations with people whose sole job was to take his money were unusual.
"Could... could I ask how long you two have been married?"
John chuckled; Roz laughed. "Martha," she said, picking up the woman's name from the tag on her blouse, "if we answer that it might hurt our image with you."
Martha frowned, obviously not understanding.
Roz leaned forward across the counter, beckoned; Martha leaned toward her in the same conspiratorial manner.
"Promise not to tell," Roz whispered into the woman's ear, "but we're newlyweds."
"I'll be darned," Martha said, beaming and Mr. and Mrs. John Alston, smiling, left the dining room. Hand in hand, as usual.
No wonder she's glowing, Martha thought. That handsome dog in love with her and him with his body intact-he must be over thirty and my John's been adding more and more pot ever since he was twenty-five. Gee... newly-weds! What I wouldn't give to be a gnat on the wall of their room tonight... or just to be her, in the dark with that nice good-looking loving man!
And Martha leaned back from the counter, gazing wistfully after the couple, her hands folded unconsciously over her pot belly.
"You know that's one of the first, the very first things I noticed about you," Roz said, as they rode up on the elevator; it was automatic and they happened to have it to themselves. That wasn't unusual, as they'd eaten very late and had been the next to last people in the dining room.
John asked, "What?" He was fondling his wife's ass through the short skirt of her new dress. It was gauzy, brand new and Roz identified it as "the daring one." It displayed a good deal of breast and a lot of leg.
"Your being nice to everyone. Waitresses, bus-boys, cashiers, you know-the so-called little people most people are so tough with, because they can get away with it."
"I once helped an old lady across the street, too."
She laughed and was hugging him when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. They held hands as they walked down the hall to their room.
Inside, she asked, "What time is it?"
"Quarter of eleven."
"Whew! Late! Time for bed!"
John Alston chuckled. "That's where we've spent most of our time already, baby."
She was squatting beside the TV, fiddling with the dial that brought in music, not the television. "Where else," she asked, turning half around. "We're on our honeymoon, after all!"
"Some people go to see the sights."
"Oh." She got the FM station they liked. "Want to go see some sights?"
He spoke close to hand, having come up immediately behind her. "I'm seeing one of the star attractions right now," he said. "Two."
She looked up. He was looking down into her decollete dress. She smiled.
"I see a couple of snow-capped mountains," he told her, in the nearest he could come to poetry. "And Grand Canyon." . "Must be nice," she said, staying where she was so as not to interrupt his fun. "All I see is a telephone pole."
"Bitch! A what?"
"A candy stick. A lollipop. A great big bone, though definitely not one for a dog."
He bent over and pushed both hands into the front of her dress. "My God woman, you are shameless. To think, my sweet darling bride talks that way."
"Me shameless," she said, leaning her head back against his crotch. "How can I be called shameless by a guy who's got both his big hairy hands down my dress?"
"Doing what?"
"Getting me all hot and prickly," she answered.
"Doing what?"
"Turning me on!"
"Doing what?"
"Playing with my titties."
He chuckled and squeezed. "That's what I wanted to hear. I love the way you always say 'titties.'"
"I love the way you can't keep your hands off 'em."
He raked each nipple with a finger tip, felt her tremble against him. "I think you were right in the first place," he told her.
She strained her neck, looking back and up at him. "What? About what?"
"Whew," he said, imitating, pressing her breasts. "It's late. Time for bed!"
"Great!" She kissed his wrist. "How about letting me get up out of this squat before both legs die and drop off at the knees?"
"Since you put it that way," he said and straightened, tugging at her tits.
She allowed herself to be pulled up that way.
"You know-if I weren't wearing this brand-new dress I'd just leave it on and let you amuse yourself."
"I assure you, Mizziz Alston, I can amuse myself without the dress."
"Uh-huh." She put her head on one side. "I'll bet it's twice as sexy and twice as much fun with me clothed though, isn't it? You've been eyeballing me in this dress ever since I put it on. I was afraid we'd never even get to the dining room."
"You almost didn't, but I hated to tie up the elevator." He extricated his hands from her bodice. "You've never looked sexier."
"Never?"
"Never with clothes on, I mean," he amended.
Roz laughed. Then, "But... it's sexier with clothes on though, isn't it? I mean, a nudist camp wouldn't really be sexy, would it, with everything showing all the time."
"Like hell!" She laughed. "After the first few days, I mean."
"You're right. The sexiest picture I've seen in Penthouse in about two years was right in the middle of a nude spread. A spreading nude spread. In that one picture, she had on panties. Itsy bitsy ones-white, I think."
"And that was more a turn-on than the naked shots."
He nodded. "Sexier'n the crotch shots. Bet we'll be going back to those in a few years, after everybody gets tired of seeing how far they can go and showing nothing but nudies, spreading."
"What's that called?"
"What?"
"Nude ladies, spreading."
"Ladies?"
"I'm no judge," she shrugged. "Are you?"
He grinned. "Touche. Another blow struck for womanhood and lady-dom, including nude spreadies. I mean spread nudies. Anyhow, it's called 'split beaver.'"
"Oh yeah." She made a face. "Yugh. That's icky." She thought a moment, then asked, "Hey-what's it called when it's nude men? Spread beaver tails?"
"Beats me. Ask Helen Gurley whatsis, or that stagey blonde that edits the other one-Play girl. They probably have a word for their male nudes. Surely not beefcake, anymore."
"That full-page color ad of all the athletes modeling all kinds of male underwear, shorts and briefs and so on, is a lot sexier than the naked Burt Reynolds-or any of the others, especially the super-muscled ones."
He smiled and nodded. "So we'll get me some sexy-colored briefs-and some and so on, too. And heaven knows what I may wind up getting you."
"Promise?"
He replied by pulling her to him, utterly enveloping her in his arms and then totally enveloping her lips with his.
They were panting when they parted. "I have to go to the bathroom. And then I am getting out of this dress!"
"Get out of the dress first," he said, smiling.
She looked a silent question up into his face.
He shrugged. "I want to watch you walk in bra and panties," he said. "I haven't seen you that way, all that much."
She grinned. "OK, Mr. Alston. And when I come out of the bathroom-how about if you're wearing your shorts? Period. I haven't seen you that way all that much, you know."
He watched while she stripped off the dress, while she hung it carefully in the closet. He watched the way her breasts rippled within the bra and how her round buttocks clenched and hollowed at the hip, tightening up her panties with her every movement. Aware of his gaze, she pranced a little on the way to the bathroom, exaggeratedly rolling her hips and clenching, then releasing each ass cheek with her steps. He made animal noises and she giggled as she entered the bathroom. She turned on the heat lamp that felt so nice, resolving, like millions before her, to have one in her own bathroom someday.
When she emerged, he was wearing a pair of plain white briefs. He was posed, wearing also a supercilious look. "Don't turn off the light," he said and she didn't. He turned off the lights in the room; the one in the bathroom was perfect. Pressing together, they kissed and rubbed and fondled each other through their underclothes for a long while. He couldn't stand the bra; he wanted the breasts he loved naked. He complimented her constantly on them and about everything else about herself; with this man, Roz was gaining confidence.
When he had the bra off and was starting to play with her warm breasts, she decided to act on something she'd been thinking about doing for a long while, for months in fact, ever since the second time they had made love-which was two nights after the first time. The best way to go about it seemed to be just to do it.
She let her knees bend and slid down to the carpet. His hands clung briefly, stretching her breasts upward, still humid from the bra. They slipped free of his hands. Hers were at his hips and as she went to her knees she drew his shorts down with her.
She laced her fingers around it, a longish fleshy rope emerging from his bush of pubic hair and tipped with a mushrooming head of a deep, lurid pink. It was thick, though not erect; about halfway there.
"Ummmmm... it's just so lovely, so handsome," she enthused in a breathless little voice and she teased him by fanning his cock's smooth-skinned crown with her warm breath.
It trembled, twitched and thrust lustily more outward, higher, straining toward her face. A little shiver went through the kneeling woman when she felt it swell even more in her loving grasp.
She sent her tongue squirming out. She pressed a long, sucking kiss on the very tip of his growing penis. He felt the wet, slithery tip of her wriggly tongue and shuddered as he thrilled to the feeling of it: a french kiss for his prick! Her tongue traced all over the head, then began running warmly down the whole staff and wetly, warmly back up to the head again.
She licked and lapped and kissed his cock until he thought he'd go up the wall. By that time the thrusting, reddened form of his sex-club curved up into a mighty arc above his groin, flaunting its thick semen-carrying tube at her. She tugged it down with one hand in order to lick and press warm wet kisses on the luridly pink knob. Delighting in its throbbing thickness and heaviness, the challenging girth of that hot meat, she slavered happily over it.
Her hand never left his balls while she licked and kissed his cock.
She lifted one arm to brush back her hair, deliberately showing him the lascivious way her moistly sparkling tongue slithered out, quivering, to tickle the knob and sensitive underside of his prick.
He shivered at the feel of the jolting lances of lust that jumped through him and was suddenly fearful of losing his load before he was ready. Impossible, he told himself; we've been here three days now and I've come eight times. No way I'm going to shoot early!
Nevertheless he guarded against it. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his head, refusing to look down at the inflaming sight. Tensing the lithe muscles of his thighs, he concentrated on feeling.
He could feel her serpentine tongue curling around, pressing his big hard rubbery bone at the same time as, kissing, she suddenly applied a heavy vacuuming suction. His cock head slurped into her mouth. He groaned aloud, twitched.
The kneeling girl's sweet soft mouth was like a thirsty cunt, wet and warm and snugly pressed around the crown of his hard meat.
With an obscenely loud sploop noise, she let his cock flip free of her mouth. Again he groaned-for a different reason, this time. But he was not to be abandoned. Now her tongue stabbed out to run up the undersurface of his proud pink prick. Quivery tongue tip traced out the pulsing veins and slurped over the bigger swelling of the sperm tube.
Her fingers slid through the hair of his inner thigh as she kissed and nuzzled and licked.
She ran her tongue up over the smooth mushroom head, sucked it briefly and slithered down the staff again. It wiggled wetly over the curling thicket of his groin and rose to tickle his lower belly. She let him feel a brief lingual pressure at his navel, while she pressed and rolled his nuts with both hands. He knew she liked to make them wobble and roll about in their pouch.
She returned her mouth to his genitals, sliding her lips down his belly with her tongue partway out.
The kneeling woman moved her kissing lips back over the pulsing great shaft until the teasing caress of her breath on the big bulb of its glans made him shudder. He felt her breasts quiver against his legs. He looked down while she, her head bent over his groin and her hands on his hips, let her eyes flutter open to peer up at him. She wasn't being coy, he saw; she was checking his reactions. How beautiful her eyes were, looking up into his face from his groin! How beautiful her jiggly tits, bracketing his thighs!
She showed him the slow parting of her lips. Her mouth open, she moved closer to the big plumlike head of his dilated cock. He held his breath, watching as if in a trance. At the last moment, she paused. When she spoke her voice was low and came straight up from the throat.
"I hope you don't get tired of standing, darling. I want to suck you off."
That brought a jolt of bliss-bringing lust whipping through him! He groaned, dizzied by her words, by the pounding of his heart, by the blood pounding wildly through his brain. She promised something new; he had never come in her mouth.
Sliding her lower lip under his cock's swollen glans, she flicked the sensitive tip with her tongue. Then, lowering her eyes, she sucked his cock into her mouth. She eased hard penis into her face slowly, vigorously rubbing the throbbing underside with her busy little tongue. She pulled it, sucking and licking all the while for all she was worth.
He shuddered as his distended meat vanished into that sexy cavern of warm saliva and warmly wiggling tongue.
It lay on her wet, ever-moving tongue while she sucked rhythmically and wetly at his deliciously entrenched penis. One hand began to knead his balls. She knelt before him and sucked cock. Her fingers circled his scrotum, closed around it and dared him to rob her mouth of the cock she sucked and licked.
Groaning, he felt himself topple into the scarlet abyss of lust.
His cock swiftly proved that it was not the bone they called it-her sweet oral loving made it throb and jump in her face.
Most of the length of the full, pounding, swollen organ was surrounded by warm, moist mouth-flesh like a wet humid glove. The exquisite sensation of it made him go light in the head, and he woke up to the fact that his heart was pounding so hard because he was unwittingly holding his breath. He let it out in a long sigh of rising sensuality.
She began bobbing her head. A woman of twenty-five who'd thought, assumed that she was lesbian until a few months ago. A woman who called herself a girl-a girl determined to suck him off, all the way, for the first time in her life.
Her dedicated head-bobbing drew his eyes to her bared, loosely lolling breasts.
They jostled, they swung, their skin rippled and shone, they wobbled and shivered. They were beautiful. He was crazy about the delicious curves that sprouted all tight-skinned and loose-moored from her chest, lushly rounded balls of pure beauty and sensuousness and ever-provocative voluptuousness. And in addition to that-they were damned good tits.
Her finger tips stroked his balls. Her sweet lips softly traced heated patterns of sensuous delight up and down his dick. It was a straining, pounding staff now, ramming out above the two plump spheres.
She nursed at the hard pink length of his cock, nibbling insatiably, bobbing her head to encompass him in the wet heat of her loving mouth. The thrilling treatment sent waves of scalding pleasure rushing deep into the dangling flesh of his nut-sack.
Crooning, she sucked and mouth-fucked his cock. Her mouth was a slavering, lustful and loving receptacle for the big tool.
Oh God-slobber over my cock, baby, he thought. Eat me up, you marvelous kneeling cocksucking jiggle-titted fantastic woman-I love it, love it-I love you!
Helplessly he surged his cock into her face. It began to ache with the need to blow. She was kneading his balls almost unbearably with gentle warm fingers.
She sucked sweetly and unselfishly and naturally as though she'd been practicing for years, giving his meat a sweet, generous oral massage.
The voracious darling licked and slurped and sucked, greedily and hungrily.
Her swollen tits quivered and hobbled before her, tickling his thighs with their pushy nipples. She crammed them deliberately against his legs, squashing her hot pillowy breast flesh on his body.
"Oh darling, oh baby-you've never pleased me more! It's wonderful!"
His words spurred her happily to greater efforts. She sucked.
She sucked harder. She would not stop until she had sucked every drop of sweet viscous fluid from the warm sanctuary of his balls.
He stared down to watch those precious pink cocksucking lips clutch and pout around his ripe, rosy tool, clinging, expanding, rounding out around the thickly swollen chunk of manly meat.
The hot wet haven formed by her straining jaws and ever-moving head aroused him, fired him until the sensual need to blow his balls was an agonizing torture. She sucked on, methodically, willing him to come, seeking to force his cock to spurt, to shoot its hot milk in torrential splashes down her throat.
Then she did.
The man who stood over her groaned aloud and unconsciously thrust his swollen and long-sucked organ deeply into her face. Like a fleshy cannon, it went off.
She felt the streaming fluid start coming, hard-spurting and she had no notion what one did with it. It gagged her; she swallowed automatically in defense; after that, a born natural, she drank it all down-and loved it.
Twitching and groaning with the violent popping of his rocks, he sent sticky sperm spewing up the length of her tongue and down her gullet. She gulped and gulped. She groaned, swallowed gulping, shuddered and took it with love-and then the shuddering man was excited even more-he saw the hot white liquid that oozed from the corner of her mouth, traced over her lip, run into the little depression and then out over her chin. A long glistening thread of semen stretched down from her quivering chin and he saw it fall onto her breast.
Staggering, loving her more than he ever had, he pulled his woman up and fell with her onto the bed. With his mouth on her breast and his fingers at her cunt, he soon had her crying out in an orgasm that rocked her body.
Then they lay side by side, touching, her hand on his soft penis. Idly she played with it while he told her again and again how good it had been.
"I loved it. I love doing it. I even loved the taste of it." She rubbed her Hat little belly, so soft and narrow. "I love thinking about your semen in my stomach." A shudder took her and she turned to kiss his shoulder while her hand squeezed his genitals. "I love you!"
And long after that, in the darkness, she asked quietly, "Darling? What-what did you think about? What did you want, think about, while I was sucking you?"
"You. And how good it was."
"What would have made it better?"
"I can't think of anything."
She came up on one elbow and her breast fell softly against his ribs as she bent her face over his. "Oh come on. What did you think about? What would you have loved to do?"
"I felt like a king. An emperor. A shiek in a one-woman harem. Me standing and you there on your knees, loving me with your mouth-it was glorious. I was king of the world. Better? I don't know... I had to hold back from moving, fast and hard. Fucking your face. I wanted my hands on your titties. But I'd have squeezed them hard and hurt you. Poor reward for all you were giving me!"
She trembled. "I love the thought of everything you've said! Let's do that-tomorrow. You're the shiek and I a new harem girl, or a slave, something. You do that-you hurt my titties and make me suck you. And you... fuck my face."
She felt him shiver and knew it was with pleasure and anticipation.
"You really think you'd like that?" he asked.
She kissed his chest, tongued and pretended to chew at his nipple. "I know I would," she said softly.
In the morning, after they'd awakened and were considering getting up but enjoying merely lying in bed, messing around, toying with each other, he asked her a guestion, very quietly.
"Rosalind?"
"Hmmm?" She was kissing his nipple. Her hand was on his cock.
"Did you... could you have... sort of enjoyed it, when Char tied you up that way?"
After a long silence, she murmured, "Not all of it."
He stroked her back. "I know. But that isn't what I asked."
"It was exciting. I felt... enslaved, totally giving and taken, used, all at once. Yes... yes, I sort of enjoyed it. Part of it. If it had been you... oh darling I'd have loved it!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
On the evening John and Rosalind Alston had set aside to play the tie-up game in their new apartment, a phone call came that changed their plans for the evening... and though they had no idea then, a call that was to change their lives.
"John?" a sexy female voice purred in his ear. "This is Lori Seaver. How are you?"
Nonplussed, John suffered momentarily from a tongue-tiedness. It was Lori Seaver-the so-sexy wife of the owner of Premier Building and Loan, where both John and Roz worked. She was barely past the "Mrs. Seaver" stage to John, who had become "John" to her husband, rather than the cool, businesslike "Mr. Alston" only three years ago when he had transferred John in from the Westside branch to manage Premier's main office. Pete and Lori Seaver had come to the wedding, naturally. Though it was a small affair, John and Roz had naturally invited the company's owner. They'd been pleased, slightly surprised when Pete and Lori had not only shown up but given them the supersensible gift of an entire set of plastic dinnerware. And now... an evening phone call? And tonight, of all nights, with the Alstons getting ready to play Sheik and harem girl, or captive, or whatever.
"Oh, hi Lori Seaver," he said, unsure whether to use her first or last name and so using both. "I'm good, better than good, thanks."
"Your new bride keeping you happy?"
"Absolutely!"
"Good. You deserve it-and I hope she deserves you!"
"She deserves better," John said, wondering why the hell she'd called and when they would can the bullshit and get to it.
"Well," that purring, butter-in-the-throat voice said, "I might dispute that, John. But let me talk with the pretty lady if she's available, will you?"
"Sure. She's right here. Just a minute."
Rosalind was waiting in the bedroom, where she'd lit a fat candle. She was wearing a bra to which she'd attached scintillant sequins of black and icy blue, the gold cord from her tan dress with two strips of satin pulled through it, one fore and one aft, stockings with fancy rosettes on the garters and strap sandals.
"Has my master completed his other business?" she asked, role playing.
"Damn!" John shook his head. "Of all times- you look terrific, darling! Better than terrific- and that damned phone call is for you."
"Me. Tell 'em I'm sick or gone to sleep or in Katmandu or something!"
"Don't dare. I can't imagine what she wants, but it's Lori Seaver."
"Lori Seaver!" Roz stood up swiftly. "What's she w- sorry." She heaved a great sigh that made the sequins flash a thousand times. "Oh... kay," she said and walked past him to the phone in the hall.
He was still trying to dope out what the devil to put on, if anything, when Roz was back. "Hey! It's an invitation. The Seavers are having a party-sort of, she says, for the Alstons."
"For us?"
"She says sort of an introduction of the new Mrs. John Alston, 'Rosalind darling.'" He grinned. "Not a bad imitation, baby. When? Hell, it doesn't matter-we're delighted and we'll be there, whenever it is, right?"
"Ri-i-i-ight." And Roz went back to the phone, her ankle-length tail of lavender satin switching.
When she returned, they hugged, delighted, pleased more than a little at the call, the invitation, the party. They began babbling, somehow got themselves a drink made and talked about their introduction to "high sassiety" until it was so late they dared not do anything but go to bed to sleep.
* * *
"You have more of a giving nature than anyone I've ever known," John Alston told his wife a couple of days later. "You can't do enough for me, can you? You even try to anticipate what I might need-or even want."
Roz looked at him, wide-eyed, thinking about it. She nodded. "Yes, sure. I hadn't thought about it. It's the way I am. I like to do for. I'd rather do for you than anyone in the world-anyone I've ever known before. Do I... bother you?"
"Nope. I guess it's possible that you could. If it starts to get that way, ever, I hope I can have the good sense and gumption to tell you about it... and not when I'm mad."
"I'll try never to make you mad," she said, softly. "I already do try. I don't want to do anything to make you angry with me, darling. If I do, tell me about it-whether it's right then or later. Just tell me to shut up or bug off, or something."
"I don't think I could do that."
She smiled, rose and came to give him a squeeze and a kiss. His hand fondled her backside.
She straightened. "I've got some things to do in the kitchen... want a Tab?"
"Shut up. Or bug off, or something."
They laughed and he sat thinking about her while she went out to the kitchen. Could he ever really, seriously say something like that to this woman? He couldn't imagine it.
When she came back into the living room, he was still thinking about her. And though he hadn't touched himself, he also had an erection. Roz noticed. Roz also got it, in short order. Together, they melted it down very nicely.
* * *
The Seavers' party for the Alstons was full of new experiences for Rosalind. She and John met a lot of people for the first time and a lot of them had a great deal more money than they. Others had both money and position. Professionals, managers, that sort of people. She coped well, though she was nervous; it was John-and Lori Seaver-who assured her that she had handled herself well.
It was only after they'd gotten home that John told her why Pete Seaver had highsigned him and they'd gone off together. He had offered John a new title; Vice-president and General Manager, Premier Building and Loan.
What did it mean? The title, mostly. A little more say-so in the determination of policy. And a couple of hundred dollars a month more in salary, with an interesting little bonus setup, based on amount and quality of business. And what would that amount to? Another couple of thousand a year or so, "unless I really screw up," John said.
Seaver also asked if there were possible difficulties in the situation of John's and Roz's both working in the same office. Possibly, John admitted and Seaver offered to make her assistant manager at the Huntley Plaza Branch. That was as much a surprise to Roz as John's elevation-naturally he accepted-and considerably more of a shock. She didn't want to do it; John persuaded her to try it for a few months, anyhow.
"You've talked about my giving nature, that I like to do for," Roz said. "What I'd really love to do is spit in the eye of this self-actualization stuff and quit working-for money, I mean. Being your wife is my self-actualization, whatever exactly that means. I'd like to be a full-time wife."
He did not disagree-but they agreed that she'd still try the new job at Huntley Plaza, at least for a few months. It was an opportunity to amass a chunk of money-what the Feds didn't take under duress on April 15th-and buy both a new car and a nicer place to live. A house, maybe.
Meanwhile, the party brought other new experiences.
For one thing, Pete Seaver was most attentive to Roz, in her new dress with the gold-lame bodice and low round neckline. She wasn't certain whether he was flirting or not, or if he were if he meant anything by it. It made her both uncomfortable and happy. Whatever his motives, he was most attentive.
With John, matters were definite: Lori Seaver was not only attentive, but definitely flirtatious and she was one of the most sensuous women in town. Perhaps strangely, Lori and Roz also got along very well and enjoyed a one-to-one conversation that lasted nearly an hour, unusual at a party-particularly when Lori was one of the hosts.
Roz was pleasantly surprised when Lori called to ask her to go shopping with her the following Saturday. Shopping really wasn't Roz's thing and certainly her economic situation was a lot different from Lori's; Pete Seaver, self-made, was supposed to have close onto a million now, at age thirty-four.
Again though, Roz was comfortable; Lori saw to that. There was no embarrassment about who could afford what and who spent what, or into which stores they went. They spent two hours over lunch, talking. And they liked each other, obviously. Roz was fascinated to learn that Lori had been Pete's first secretary; she had come from not-quite-poverty, her father dead and her mother working, had gone from high school into secretarial school, had got a job in an insurance office, had hated it mainly because "this fat old bastard" was obviously after her splendid young body and had been one of several applicants to be clerk-typist in a new loan company a-forming. After a few months she was secretary to its founder and unusually hard-working founder, Pete Seaver and just over a year later they were married. She had worked until only two years ago, by which time Premier B & L had four branches and Pete Seaver had joined the ranks of the new rich.
Lori Seaver knew how to act and how to dress-and yet she'd come from what was usually referred to as the bottom Her attention was nice support for Roz-and so were Lori's compliments on her looks and her attire. It was Lori who suggested a new hair style, saying she thought it was Roz. She pointed out to Roz two examples of that style that afternoon. Roz thought they looked nice, but... on her? She'd talk with John about it.
After a couple more get-togethers with Lori, Roz caught herself turning on. It was then she realized: this was the first time she had been friends, just friends, with a woman she was attracted to, without sharing sex. Lori continued to be complimentary and in the old days Roz would have thought the other woman was attracted to her, physically/sexually. But of course they were both married.
That made it quite a surprise when, on the Friday night that both Pete and John flew to Washington for a meeting with representatives of the Fed, Roz accepted the invitation to stay with Lori... and they wound up making superb and totally mutual lesbian love.
They did again the next morning, too.
Lori thought Roz was so attractive and sexy.
Roz thought Lori was so attractive and sexy!
Roz's guilt came and went. Both women were obviously loved by their husbands and in love with them and both of them were obviously happy with heterosexuality. Roz mentioned that on the occasion of her second girl-to-girl session with Lori.
"Well, I just guess so!" Lori said, idly tracing out the dark patch of shiny, slightly milk-bumpy skin around her nipple. "We aren't lesbians, Roz, after all! Good grief! If you were a lesbian we wouldn't be doing this-believe me! I've known for years that I'm bisexual-haven't you?"
No, Roz hadn't. It had not occurred to her. She thought about it-while the other woman simultaneously sucked her breast and fingered her vulva with gentle, loving woman-hands.
So I'm bisexual! I'll be darned! AC-DC has always sounded so nasty, icky-but it's nice! How nice!
I guess... I think... I hope, she added mentally, thinking about John.
"Lesbians don't divide things into woman-man nearly as much as people think they do," Roz said, idly fondling Lori's tight ass. "How about bisexuals?"
"Hmm?" Lori lifted her flushed face from Roz's breast. "What do you mean? Lord, I'm no expert, Roz-how about bisexuals what?"
"Uh... well... what I mean is... both of us dig men-"
"And how!"
Roz laughed. "Right. And we both love, ah, making love with our husbands-"
"You mean fucking with our husbands. Truth to tell," Lori said, "I really dig being fucked. That man I'm married to is one in about ten million. Don't ever tell him, but I've practically worshipped him for eleven years-ever since I met him. Well, right after, anyhow."
"That sounds like me," Roz sighed dreamily, "though it's been a lot less longer. I'm the kid in the bunch, remember... I'll be twenty-six month after next."
"Ah shut up, little girl. So Pete's thirty-six and John's... what? Thirty-one or two?"
"Five," Roz said, pleased that her friend had underestimated John's age.
"Hmp! Mighty well preserved-he looks younger'n Pete, damn his tight little ass. Oh, pardon me."
Roz laughed. "It's all right. I love that tight little, ah, ass you're damning!"
"So do I! Hang onto it, girl, or I'll be patting him when you're not looking." And she fondled Roz's bottom, which was gloriously bare, on Lori's sheet.
"Just content yourself with mine, darling! You, uh, aren't going to be telling your age, hmmm?"
"I'm twenty-nine," Lori said. "I may be twenty-nine next year, too. I hate it. Thirty's always sounded so old. A real milestone. Twenty-nine sounds about fifty years younger than thirty."
"I hope not. Anyhow, you won't ever look your age. You're so interested in keeping your figure-I think it's wonderful that you have, Lori and with two children, too."
Lori shrugged, prone on the bed. "You know how I fight to keep it. You've seen me eat... "
"Not eat," Roz laughed.
"Anyhow, what about what you were saying. How about bisexuals... what?"
"Oh. What I meant was-us. We like, uh-"
"Come on, Roz, get over that language hangup. If you can't say 'fucking,' try 'screwing' or 'balling.'"
"Screwing, balling and fucking," Roz said, but she still dropped her voice on the last word. "So-do bisexual women fuck?"
"You mean like-men and women?"
"Yeah."
Lori chuckled, purring out the sexy sound from her throat. "You want to fuck me, Roz?"
"Well... actually I was thinking... I'd like... I was thinking about you fucking me."
This time Lori laughed aloud and gave her friend's breast a squeeze. "Ha! And I was thinking about you fucking me! See what helpless little heterosexuals we really are? God, wouldn't we just disgust real lesbians!"
"Yes," Roz said, thinking abruptly and only momentarily about Char.
"Well... there's something girls can do, us girls I mean," Lori said, scrambling. "It's called... I forget. No, it's tribadism. That's it. Tribadism. One gets on top, see, like this. And they rub their cunts together. Their... clits."
They tried. It was rather nice-for awhile. Then it grew frustrating. Their clitorises just wouldn't match up. Besides, with someone atop her this way, moving, rubbing, Roz wanted what went it-what she and John called his bone up inside her.
So Lori got out her battery vibrator and they not only clitorally buzzed each other with the humming hunk of pink plastic, they used it each inside the other, too. Next day Roz went home, keeping her secret, trying to find a way either to stop with Lori or at least to tell John and not being able to think of that way. Meanwhile, she progressed in heterosexual lovemaking.
This time she fondled and licked and sucked her man's penis until it was high and hard and then she rose over him while he lay grinning on his back. She grinned right back.
"You sure you want to ride me, babe?"
"Sure," she told him. "You just relax and let me do the screwing tonight. I really feel that I owe you... no one ever... kissed me the way you did, before."
He smiled. "I didn't kiss you, darling, I licked your ass. And I'll tell you the truth-it's the first time I ever did it. When you did it to me, I just suddenly-"
"Wanted to return the favor?"
He shook his head, back and forth on the pillow. "No. I wanted to do it. I wanted to know what it felt like to do it-it sure feels great to receive!"
"Agreed," she said, squirming a little. Her crack and anus were still saliva-wet from his long tonguing her there. "And now-see how you like receiving this."
Astride him, the squatting woman impaled herself on him, letting her straining cunt come sliding down the fleshy column like a fireman riding down a slick pole. And yes, the fire was there, blazing in their uniting genitals. Long, thick cock slipped up and up into her receptive and thoroughly wet belly. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh...!"
Her eyes went wide as the shaking woman felt herself impaled on cock, all the way in and up to her humid pussy's torrid depths.
She began riding at once, bouncing on his standing dick.
She rode him in a transport of rapturous carnal joy, cramming and jamming herself down that tall, pulsing erection. Wild waves of desire washed and ravished her body, almost visible in the ripple of her sleek skin, the swing and tremulous bouncing of her naked breasts. Restlessly they jumped and swung and jiggled in a primitive tempo. Her breath came hard and feist as she fucked him, fucked herself on him.
Hot cock stuffed her full, gouged deep, for she herself ground her vagina down it as if in berserk efforts to puncture her cunt lining and impale her guts.
The length of hot maleness so deeply in her by her own efforts made her shiver and the blood pounded through her writhing, twitching body in hot rivulets. More hot juices rolled down the shank of his hard-on as her cunt oiled itself more and more copiously. His prick was slick with it, shining and coated and dripping. It nearly flopped from her with each of her high-rising, down-grinding strokes.
The passion-abandoned girl drove herself down the thick stalk in a transcendent, heated fury of passion.
Her vision failed.
The room seemed to turn blue and swim all around her.
Her tits jumped and jiggled, the big cream-puffs swinging in broad parabolas and looking as if they were about to tear loose from her body with her frenetic exertions.
Higher she rose, to gain a longer and more pleasing descent. Each descent was like a brand new entry, this way. Each entry glazed her eyes and sent her pussy sliding slurpily all the way down the long thick pipe of his cock.
Twice that slippery dick popped completely out of her.
She was so wide open now, though, that her gaping oily split found and engulfed his standing organ with absolutely no difficulty.
Then he groaned, wincing and she grunted with pain. Her eyes flared very wide and a great shudder went all through her.
"Ah-my... God!!"
She didn't know how it could have happened. It was awful. True, she had been completely out of her mind, out of contact with immediate reality, completely caught up in fucking. Maybe he had moved. Maybe she had done it all herself- to herself.
However, whatever the cause, she had just lost another maidenhead.
She now sat spitted all the way up the ass on that huge throbbing cunt-wet cock!
"D-dear... God!"
"You said it," the prostrate man groaned. "Christ, but you're so hot and tight in there!"
"I-I'm almost afraid t-to move!"
"Don't then," he said. "Just... be still, or you'll hurt us both. You-you'll loosen up in a moment... "
She was still and both of them felt the lessening of pressure. It was slight. The pain left, but the intense stuffed tight sensation remained.
"Let-let... let me get off it," she said, almost whimpering, reaching for the big male hands that had suddenly grasped her dangling breasts like steel bands.
"Never in this world!"
He hung onto her tits and grinned up at the shuddering, shocked, suddenly very girlish woman sitting straight up on his hips-with her womanly hole gaping emptily and oozing its juices down into his upper pubic hair... and his cock utterly contained in the clenching quivering virginal scabbard of her dilated ass.
"You know how I love your beautiful ass, darling! Oh how I've wanted it," he told her, fingering her nipples. "For a long time, bet on it! And I've been too chickenshit to say so. Now you've accidentally taken me in there, up your sweet tight hot anus, darling and now that I've got it I am not about to let you go!"
"B-but-but... its ob-"
"-scene," he finished. "Of course. So is licking and sucking as we do. Good lord, we love, we belong to each other and own each other-we do what we please and there's no judging uptight peeping in the window to cart us off for the 'crime' of sodomy! Oh no. Think-does it hurt?"
"N... no... so, so full... "
"Of course. So tight to me! So hot-so good! All right, harem girl, here's what the sultan demands this night-assfuck yourself! Screw yourself up the back, darling and in one minute tell me if it hurts and is awful. Bounce, twist, jiggle-ride that cock!!"
The confused woman blinked.
Bereft of pleasantly filling maleness, her pussy was open and awash with rich fluids. It dribbled down onto her thighs, onto him, onto the bed.
"But-but-" He tweaked her nipples, lovingly-but she knew that he was ready to grab tightly if she tried removing her violently, grotesquely, obscenely stretched anus from its surprise impalement.
"But!" he said. "Yes! Yes, that's what I want, sweetheart-butt! Your butt, all pretty and pouty of cheek and all tight and hot and slippery inside, riding and riding up and down on my bone!"
She shivered. Her teeth set into her lower lip. Having forced its way easily through that so-powerful sphincter and through her efforts, not his-his closely grasped cock wallowed in the deep channel to her bowels. And... strange, intimately secret little surges shot all through her at his words and tightened the silky textures of her belly. It quivered.
A hot flush of perverse pleasure darkened her face.
"All right!" she said in a swift heated rush and tore through another barrier, another breakthrough into full sexuality. "All right! Get ready, Mr. Sultan, Mr. Vice President and General Manager! Because you aren't going to last long with me wiggling on you, ass fucking myself, pumping up and down on that prick I feel up me-I'm going to clutch that great big bony penetrator of yours up inside my-my hot tight anus until you beg!"
He jiggled her jiggly tits and grinned more broadly. "Try me, wench."
She began moving, tentatively.
Even though his cock was well oiled from her cunt, it seemed to abrade and strain her surprised asshole as if it were twice its girth, which was considerable to begin with. She moved on it. Up. Down. Up. Down, a little faster.
The great wedge of hardened, hot flesh shuttling up and down in it turned her rectum hotter and made her whole lower body feel inflated, balloonishly bloated. She felt as if she had to go... and she remembered abruptly the frequent pleasure of that natural function, ever since her childhood. She moved, faster and faster.
More and more her punctured asshole flowered open and faster and faster she thrust it up and down the standing post of his prick.
I am ass fucking myself!
I... I like it... I love assfucking myself!
She jiggled herself on that tall-standing stem of his loins in a passionate, lustful frenzy. Lust overwhelmed her. Her tits flew up and leaped down to bounce and swing, while he fingered the wet lips of her open, empty cunt. She felt his finger tip touch her clitoris, roll it once, twice, three-times! A swift orgasm jolted her.
She sagged gasping only for a moment while her ass gripped his cock and her coming cunt tried to snatch his fingers.
Then up she rose and down she came dropping with a force that splatted her buttocks noisily on his outstretched thighs while she happily, frantically fucked her newly opened asshole on his tall erection. And all the while she felt that nagging-that nice-little need to move her bowels.
Of course, the panting girl thought. My bow-els're stuffed full! Fuller than I've ever been back there. But... I couldn't force anything out of that stuffed hole right now if I wanted to-and I don't!
Deliberately she jerked her hips and shoulders, practically ripping open her rearward hole, her anal cunt, her body's second fuckable hole, while those same movements made her naked, sweat-shining tits bounce more excitingly above him.
The panting gasping groaning girl posted up and down in his lap, fucking her dilated anus and rectum in a happy abandon to sensuality and overwhelming voluptuous pleasure. Gushing succulence came flowing out of her yawning pussy and she bucked her hips in a burgeoning wanton need.
Tightly grabbing ass-cunt ate hungrily away at his upright post of a prick.
When she came again, it was not with his fingers on her cunt, but at her thick nipples. She knew astonishment even as she writhed in the throes of that burning climax-she had taken her own anal cherry, she was fucking her own virginal ass-and she had just experienced a completely anal orgasm!
Seconds later he was shooting semen up her asshole with firehose force and groaning and straining the while.
Naturally she couldn't keep this happening from her best friend-her best female friend. It was six days later, at Lori's house while John and Pete were at a little tent-circus thing with the kids, that Roz let it slip and then was soon excitedly babbling to Lori her news. And it was less than an hour later when she was on her stomach, under which they had thrust a pillow, while Lori shoved a greased vibrator in and out of her fellow bisexual's gaping, happy asshole.
CHAPTER NINE
Neither Roz nor Lori was wild about the idea of spending a weekend up in the woods at the Seavers' cabin. Lori was persuaded only after Pete Seaver agreed to leave the children behind. Lori's mother was more than delighted to take them for the weekend and that was that. Resigned, Lori began to do some thinking and she made a few purchases here and there, secret purchases. One of them was embarrassing, but she managed it. She had never been in such a store before, with all those beaver magazines, thousands of paperbacks with sexy titles and all sorts of sex devices not even concealed from sight. While she was there, though, on a sort of impulse she bought several of the pornographic books. When Pete came home that evening, late, he was ready for a drink and bed. So was Lori, but it wasn't sleep she had in mind. She had discarded two of the books as rotten, written by typists. The third was not only extremely interesting, it was a definite turn-on-and gave her a couple of ideas. Her husband soon learned those ideas and got the benefit of them. After that, recognizing pornography as a marital aid, the Seavers bought about half a dozen titles each and every month-and saved a few, for rereading.
Though she never mentioned it, Lori also noticed that Pete didn't seem to have to work late as Often as before...
Her other purchases she hid away for the trip up to the cabin with the Alstons. After all, she did both the packing and unpacking; Pete would never see what she'd bought, unless she intended him to. She began to look forward to the trip with high anticipation.
Not so Roz, but she didn't let John know that she'd rather spend the weekend locked in the hall closet than to go way the hell up in the woods with those two people. The men would want to talk a lot of business. As Assistant Manager of the Huntley Plaza branch of the company, Roz knew she'd be expected to participate. Otherwise, she couldn't imagine that she'd much enjoy the trip. A whole weekend in a little cabin with the Seavers, privacy limited, the constant awareness of others and the necessity of keeping herself covered-and surely she and John would have the first sexless weekend of their marriage. How could they possibly make love with the other couple so nearby in that little place stuck off in the woods?
She did indulge herself in some new clothing. If that damned Pete Seaver thought he was going to have a nice time eyeballing her, he'd damned well be disappointed! She'd just gear up like one of those overdoing feminists who thought feminism meant dressing like a male. Without telling John, she bought two denim workshirts and two pairs of jeans and a big-buckled, wide belt. After making sure everything fit, she gave them a good bleach-washing, so they wouldn't look new but old and faded.
Then the men mentioned fishing and both women smiled inwardly, secretly knowing that at least there'd be opportunities for a little she-and-she sex, while Pete and John were out sticking worms on hooks and playing back to the wild.
That was a positive and there came another. Friday was beautiful and the weather forecast for the long weekend was fair and unseasonably warm. They took jackets just the same. Pete assured them there was an adequate supply of blankets at the cabin and plenty of bottled gas on hand for the range and a couple of little heating stoves. There was also a lot of firewood, he told them and if it grew cold at night, they'd all darned well not suffer. Besides, sitting before an open fire was both lovely and romantic.
They all rode up Friday afternoon in the Seaver's Cadillac, which had to be slowed to ten and less miles an hour for the last mile or so. The road that took them deep into the thickly growing trees was more like a creekbed and the big car dragged twice. The second time, Pete and John and Roz got out, relieving the car of their weight while Lori eased it over the rut and ridge combination on which it had dragged its bottom.
Then they were there and Lori was surprised. Pleasantly surprised. She should not have been, she realized instantly. Pete Seaver had money.
The cabin was pretty.
Inside, it was nice. It was weathertight. The windows were raisable, screened and barred. The hardwood floor of the large main room was strewed with carpets, including a big one of tan fur and the furniture was hardly Salvation Army stuff. The kitchen boasted not only the range and refrigerator and cozy little four-place table, but a sink with running water as well. There was a bathroom; it worked, although the chemical stuff certainly was a weird color. (To go easy on it, Pete mentioned, the men would transact their business outside.) "Hmp! Sexist," Lori said, though not in anger.
Pete shrugged. "Oh no. If you want to step out and piss up against a tree as we'll be doing, come right ahead, honey."
"Clunk," Lori said and John laughed.
There was a nicely paneled bedroom and a half-loft overlooking the living room that served as guest bedroom. Roz was pleasantly surprised again, once she'd climbed up. It was nice up there, plenty of blankets and a lovely mattress on a box springs: cozy. There was even a little table and a radio and one chair, on the partial second floor.
They ate steaks and salad that night and put away a goodly quantity of beer-and a little Scotch, as Lori wouldn't drink much beer at all, even Lite-and sat around talking, disappointed that it was too darned warm for the fire. Roz kept on the long-sleeved blouse and pants she'd worn up from the city, even after she spilled grease down one leg and John cutely trickled beer down the other leg. Lori changed as soon as they'd eaten, into a velvour-topped hostess robe in which she was lovely. Playing woodsman, Pete wore a plaid shirt and old straightleg jeans, while John wore a pair of khakis and a jogging shirt, blue.
They hardly talked about business at all. Beer and Scotch helped send them to bed rather early with Roz hurling her messed pants off the half-loft and John once again commenting with pleasure on her bralessness.
"You like me all loose and hanging and swinging this way?"
"Absolutely!"
"Well, good. Get used to it-I didn't even bring a brassiere up here."
"I ain't complaining," he grinned. "Come to think, I don't even know what you brought to wear. A few skin-tight teeshirts, I hope I hope." He grinned more broadly, leering as best he could; leering wasn't John's thing.
"You'll see," she hummed. "But no, get that out of your head-I did not come up here to get Pete Seaver all turned on."
"Oh. Good. Um, nice mattress. Come on in. God, I think I didn't really need those last two beers!"
She chuckled, snuggling in under the sheet and huge scarlet spread with him. "You did take some aspirin and B-l?"
"Yup," he said, yawning and gave her a squeeze and was asleep in less then a minute. Though she thought she might well have a hard time getting to sleep, with the lack of familiar night sounds and the constant unusual ones-crickets and katydids, mostly, Pete had said- Roz was soon asleep, too.
There was no difficulty in the morning. Pete was already up and Lori he said was working on it. Waving a hand up at the guest couple, he went outside for a stroll, while they dressed. Darned nice of him, Roz thought, struggling into her denims over nothing but panties and half-hose in a space not high enough for her to stand.
"My gawd!" John Alston said, his eyes big.
"Oh, no!" Rosalind Alston said, stricken.
She had miscalculated. Sure, she had bought full-cut denim shirt and jeans. And yes, she had washed them in hot water with bleach, to take the new off and look less attractive. And yes, they were real work clothes-and yes, they did indeed shrink. A lot.
Even with her stomachless waist, she had to suck in to fasten the pants. They molded her as if she'd been stitched into them. If she'd had a pimple on her butt, Pete and Lori would instantly have known it. Thank god she'd brought panties; the thick-seamed fly-front crotch cut right up into her so that they separated her cunt lips and displayed that fine bulge more definitely than had she been naked.
As for the shirt-even with it worn out, it was too short now to cover her crotch and a backside that looked as if it were naked and painted blue-white denim. It also stretched across her braless breasts in a way that resembled an ad- an ad for Frederick's of Hollywood, or an ad for nipples. They looked even bigger, straining against the fabric from inside.
She stripped and put on the other shirt and pants. They were identical. They had shrunk identically. They fit identically-tighter than tight.
"I'll wear those damned messed pants from last night all weekend."
John wrapped a hand around her wrist. "No no! You'll wear what you're wearing. My God, woman, you look absolutely marvelous!"
She turned a pitiful-eyed gaze on him. "Darling-I'll wear them every weekend for you when we get home-every night if you wish. But not here. I'll be embarrassed all the time- and conscious of Pete Seaver's eyes on me!"
"Listen, shy little girl, you've worn clingy dresses and scooped necklines in his presence and we both loved it. He's not going to be grabbing your ass or making lewd remarks-he isn't like that!" John made a try. "Jesus! Besides-even if he were, he couldn't grab your ass!"
Looking ready to cry, she laughed.
"Any kitchen help in this house?" Lori called up.
John patted his wife's ass. "Please."
"Damn!"
"Beautiful."
"Oh... all right."
"Great." John kissed her. "I gotta go join Pete. You know-the great big bathroom outside-and too many cans of beer last night. Back in a minute."
Later, Roz realized that John must have said a few words to Pete. The man said not a word about her display clothing. As a matter of fact she was a little bothered by the fact. He could have complimented her, at least...
Lori was different. She ogled Roz as she walked into the kitchen. "My Gawd! Would you look at you-I've never seen you so sexy! You look good enough to eat." Then she made a face. "Oops!" Again Roz was forced to laugh. While they worked together on breakfast, she told Lori the sad story of the pants, the shirts, the hot water and the bleach.
Lori laughed. "What a sad tale... but speaking of same, boy does your tail look great! Listen, that clown I married wants to go fishin'. Now what we do is go along and get bored pretty soon and come back here, right? I'll have that shirt and pants-or is that denim paint?-off you so fast you won't be able to say bisexual!"
Grinning, Rosalind Alston nodded. "You look pretty terrific yourself, me proud beauty," she said.
Lori did.
Brunette Lori was slim. Not thin or skinny; slim. Svelte, sleek, like a lithe prowling cat. She covered an unusually high forehead with swatchy bangs almost to her eyebrows, only the outer edges of which she plucked. Her eyes were deep-set and veiled by long black lashes, making them more sensuous looking-and making the clear blue color of those eyes almost shocking. Such blue eyes in the faces of the dark-haired descendants of the Gaels have ever been striking, even shocking.
Her shoulders were not really broad, but their bone structure and Lori's overall lack of meatiness, of padding, made them look broad. Her breasts were nice, neither so loosely hung nor so large as Roz's, not so slack or dangling as too many mothers of two, yet even more swollen looking of nipples than the other woman's. Stretched by two children, her belly was neither bloated nor sagging; she was careful about her eating and Lori Seaver exercised. An incredible number of situps kept those muscles in tone, while fifteen minutes daily with Mark Eden exercises accomplished the same for the muscles of her breasts, the pectorals, keeping them both nicely toned and looking larger than they were. Lori was five-feet-five, short of waist and long of leg.
Lori Seaver radiated sensuality, sexiness and she knew it. She also worked at it. She emphasized it.
The tie-front halter top and short shorts- both scarlet-she wore today did nice things for her, as she did for them.
An hour after rising, the two couples were on the banks of the tree-shaded stream; just over an hour later, Lori was complaining of insect bites-she had received one but. pretended there'd been more-and she and Roz announced their intention of returning to the cabin. Their men called them chickenshit, but otherwise shrugged. A short while later the men were fishing and the women were back in the cabin, fondling and kissing. They moved directly to the bedroom.
Sprawled on the bed, Lori speared her tongue into Roz's mouth, going after her throat with it The younger woman responded with a deliriously mounting pleasure, accepting the probing tongue as if trying to suck it loose from its roots. Her hands plucked loose the knot in the brunette's halter and Roz began fondling those dark-nippled, well-toned breasts.
She liked them. They fascinated her. She preferred them to her own larger, jiggly-loose titties, which were always amove, prancing bouncily as though they were suspended on springs. With her hands on the brunette's less mobile breasts, Lori sighed-into Roz's mouth- and then wriggled and heaved a greater sigh that thrust her bosomy morsels out enticingly.
After Roz had fondled them for awhile, never taking her mouth from Lori's, the latter made her stop while she dragged off Roz's big belt and unsnapped her jeans. Forcing the zipper down, she thrust her hand down into the dimly seen and lightly fleeced V within.
Lori fondled the other woman's vulva while Roz fondled her breasts.
To both their nostrils came the definite, rich scent of their arousal, the aroma of female animals in heat and sensuously writhing.
Roz's hands hungrily ravished and manipulated the firm-fleshed softness of the other woman's jostling, heavenly hemispheres, dimpling their resilience and running all over the rich flesh.
Moaning from the throat, Lori scrambled into a better position. Her tongue tangled and toyed with her friend's while her fingers played over the delicate little hair-fringed opening of her cunt The fleshily plump folds of its outer lips parted more and more. And she sighed as gentle fingers touched her own tall-standing nipples.
Those fingers slid about the large rubbery projections so that they were encompassed between the thumb and first two digits of each hand. She began twisting them, not nastily, like small knobs attached to her cunt by invisible wires. Lori hunched and groaned. She speared a finger inward to find humid dampness and that incredible indescribable softness of inner cunt. Other fingers plucked at her nipples.
Seething, ebullient flesh twitched and swelled. Soon each throbbing nipple was thicker, longer, thrusting out of their puckered haloes like bull's-eyes of brownish-red flesh.
Though Rosalind's jeans were so tight as to make dragging them down a difficult task, Lori accomplished it. She quivered the while, for her breasts were being erotically teased by one who knew just what to do and how to do it. Panting, the brunette tickled her friend's pussy lips with gentle, constantly moving fingers.
Sharp waves of erogenous awakening and rising passion jolted through Roz's tense body as two fingers dipped in and out of her steaming, musky slit.
Her thighs sagged apart and she sighed aloud. Her head moved forward and she began to lick a swollen, dark nipple nearly the size of the last joint of her little finger. Meanwhile she felt two fingers wriggling ophidianly about inside her slippery sex tunnel, turning it into a juice-filled, boiling cauldron of desire.
She shivered and jerked in time to the plunging of skilled feminine fingers inside her cuntbox. Her treatment of the other woman's nipple grew a little rougher as she was able to control herself less and less. Lori had made her moist, then wet and now wetter still so that she was fair stuffing her fingers up inside her lesbian lover's hot vaginal canal.
Roz ate titty, sucking hard. She winced and gasped around her lovely mouthful, prey to fits of heavy and frenzied breathing and sharp attacks of convulsionlike tremors.
Her body had become a factory for churning out its sticky juices, as her saliva and her cunt cream and her sweat all flowed in heavy tides. She found the other woman's shorts-clad cunt bulge with her hand, stroked it, pressed with her palm so that her fingers were plastered to the brunette's rounded backside.
Lori was panting. She whipped her hand out, licked her fingers, slid them into Roz's hair and tugged her back from the breast she was sucking. Roz looked at her in confusion from lust-filmed eyes.
"That's enough of this! We've got to get up and get these damned clothes off-I want to fuck you, fuck you, fuck you till you squeal!"
"Lori! Uh-oh, you brought the vibrator?"
"I brought something else-a little something I bought. A wicked thing-you'll shortly see." She tugged Roz into her arms, kissed her. "You know what I want to do, darling, I want to eat and be eaten, I want to lick your darling cute ass-and I want to fuck your pretty little ass! Don't blink at me like that, you fantastic darling slut! You and I both know how much you love it!"
Lori swung off the bed; a pantingly excited Roz followed with alacrity. They stripped hurriedly, not trying to put on a show for each other-that was long since unnecessary, with both their arousals at a high pitch. Roz's eyes went wide when Lori brought her newly bought device from beneath a blanket in a dresser drawer.
"I've never seen anything like that!"
"I knew they existed," Lori said breathlessly. "I thought about it, that time you and I talked about fucking, how we dig making it with each other this way and also want and need to fuck, to be fucked. So I got my nerve up and went to one of those adult stores and bought one. Whew! There was no one else in there but men-and did they look!"
The weird device resembled a pair of bananas stuck together end to end, with a large thick disk precisely in the center, like a barrier. The banana comparison could go only so far; the shining device was a rich, gleaming chocolate brown. Each end, each brown "banana," was about eighteen centimeters or seven inches long. A pretty normal length-for a cock. Each was a pretty normal girth, too-for a cock.
Roz touched it, ran her fingers over it. "Ooooooh! Not even as cold as it looks... it's... this is a real dildo, isn't it! A double dildo!"
"Exactly! A cock apiece, luv. Would you like to suck my cock? Would you like to have your cock sucked?"
That was a perversely exciting thought, but Roz was already excited about the prospect of what Lori had said earlier.
"I'd-I'd rather have it in me!"
"Lie back and let's see how it fits. I've got an idea."
"Oh," Roz said, sitting on the bed and then sprawling back, forking her legs lewdly, "it'll fit all right. I don't think it's as big as John's bone... "
"Oh really! Lucky Roz! Maybe I should have gotten the giant economy size-oh yes, you're still wide open and running wet inside and bright red!" Sitting on the bed beside the other woman, Lori bent to kiss, to thrust in her tongue, to suck briefly at Roz's lightly furred pussy.
Then, gently and with consummate ease, she pushed one end of the double dildo into that open, juicy and indeed violently scarlet slash. The prostrate girl sighed as big brown cock bored into her hungry, naked gap and forced her to spread all around its broad stalk.
The disk in the center of the double dildo was against her puckered, ring-rounded pussy lips in no time. Lori pressed in. Groaning, moaning, gasping, Roz hunched.
"Ah! Ah! Pump it, pump me-e-e... "
"Greedy guts!" Lori snapped accusingly-and grinning, she made her friend's eyes bulge by turning the artificial cock all the way around inside her. Next she drew it far out-and pushed it all the way back in.
Roz made a squeaky noise of bereavement when Lori tugged the slippery, sap-glistening dildo all the way out of her.
"No, don't-ahhhhhh!"
Having turned the device, Lori held it by the disk and pushed the other end into that quaking hollow lined with churning pink tissues. Again she buried it up the juicy warm hole until the disk pressed into Roz's quim. The purpose of that large round divider was obvious; it kept either user of the device from having more crammed into her than she could bear, from being ripped by unyielding bone-hard plastic. Each surface of the disk was corrugated, too, to add extra thrilling sensations when it pressed into splayed pussy lips and exposed clitoris.
Then a wide-eyed Roz, propped up on her hands and with her legs wide and her cunt utterly stuffed with false cock, stared down at the way she seemed to have a cock, spearing out and up from her in that familiar bow-or banana-shape. And then her eyes widened still more and she gasped... for her friend bent far forward and Lori began sucking Roz's cock!
She had thoroughly smeared this end with vaginal oils before reversing it and now the kneeling brunette sucked and lapped up all that glistening juice from the depths of her friend's stuffed pussy.
It was a weird sensation for Roz, watching another woman suck what appeared to be her cock. When Lori bobbed her head, Roz groaned, for though there was no feeling in that hard thing spearing out from her crotch, the brunette's cocksucking head movements brought movement to the device-which made its buried end wiggle about up inside Roz's delighted vagina.
"God! Oh, wow-I see what you meant-you are sucking my cock!"
"Ummm-mmmm!" Lori slid her mouth back off the stiff pole. "Yes," she hissed, licking her lips. "And tasting your sweet pussy juices at the same time, darling!"
"And... and you could sit, put your legs up over mine and face me... we could sort of rock, and-"
"And fuck each other!" Lori said, almost shouting. "Yes!" She jiggled the false prick with her hand, leaning well forward on her knees to kiss Roz's breast and give its nipple a swift suck that left it fat and hard. "But that isn't what I said and that isn't what I want to do, Roz darling. I'm going to take this out of you and push it up me while you turn over on your tummy... and then I'm going to fuck your ass and my cunt all at the same time!"
CHAPTER TEN
"Amazing how a guy can work up such a hunger just fishing," Pete said as he and John walked through the shading trees from the stream.
"Uh-huh-especially when you consider the fact that we did even less than that. One damn fish. Good grief, what a pair of fishermen we are."
"We had nothing to do with it, John. Not our fault the fish aren't biting today. It happens."
John only grunted in reply; a self-made man with self-created wealth like Pete Seaver wasn't one to accept much in the way of criticism, even merely implied criticism. Besides, he was probably right.
"It's the women who were the smart ones," Alston said. "Oops, sorry."
He'd let go a little bush too soon and it had slapped across Beaver's legs.
"No sweat," Pete said. "Yeah. Coming up here to the woods, though, with all the sunshine and birds singing and the good air and all the smells... and then going back to the cabin at ten or eleven in the A.M... huh. Wonder what they're doing, reading? Talking about shopping?"
"Ah-give 'em some credit. Probably whomping up a damned fine meal-I hope!"
"I'll give your Roz credit," Pete said. "As for Lori-she gets credit for looking good and knowing how to act, that's all-oh and being damn good in bed!"
John didn't respond to that. They walked on among the trees and bushy undergrowth. Then he thought he should say something: "Pete, she looks more than good, I'll say that."
"Sexy-lookin' pair today, aren't they? Whew! Both of 'em. Sex on wheels."
"Uh-huh. Oh say, thanks for not commenting on Rosalind's ahh, appearance. She was really disappointed about the way those clothes shrank-and embarrassed at the tightness."
"Hmp! Not to mention the fact that she isn't wearing a bra, you dog! Sure, I was happy to go along with your request, John. Hey-nobody ever call you Jack?"
"Nope. Used to be Johnny when I was a kid. Seems too kiddish for a grown man, though."
"Huh! How about a president named Jimmy! Anyhow-if it'd been Lori, she'd be mad if no one said anything about how she looked in something like Roz's wearing. Anything you say to her about how good she looks or how sexy she is or looks, John, is fine. With both of us."
"They're different, all right."
"Hey, your Roz isn't one of those uptight gals, is she? I mean-excuse me, that's personal."
"It's OK, Pete. Oh, not uptight, though both of us are-kind of reserved, about some things. I'm pretty conservative and so is she."
"Too bad," Pete said, giving his fishing line a twitch to tug the hook out of an overhead leaf.
"Too bad? We're happy. Why too bad?"
"Oh-because there's a certain lady whose last name is the same as mine who thinks you're attractive and might have some... ideas, about our all being up here in the woods together, so isolated."
After a moment, Pete asked, "John? What'd you say?"
"Nothing," John said. and with a tiny chuckle, "How about 'Gulp'?"
Pete laughed. "Oh come on, fella. It isn't as if she's going to rape you or anything. I just stated a fact, that's all. I think Roz is attractive, too- more than attractive. She's a sexy girl. But that doesn't mean I'm going to grab her!"
"Glad to hear it," John Alston said, trying not' to tighten up his lips too much. "We're, uh, not ready for that yet, Pete."
"No sweat. Of course now I depend on you to be discreet; I've pretty well tipped my hand that Lori and I... swing, haven't I?"
"Well, actually, you hadn't," John said. "Now you have. But why should I talk about it?"
"Me and my fat mouth. No reason John- thanks. Sorry I mentioned it. Let's see-better get a subject change going! Oh-there's the cabin. Good, seems to me it was shorter to the stream than coming back!"
"Yeah-oh hell, I've slipped up. Need to take one and should have in the woods."
"No sweat. Let's walk around behind the cabin, lean the poles and spray the ground back there."
They did and of course they heard a sound and then another and of course Pete had to step over to the cabin window and peer in. Suddenly he was motioning to John, behind his back. The larger man didn't take his eyes from the window.
"Sh," he hissed, as John came curiously close.
John peered in. Then both men froze and stared at the incredible and incredibly erotic scene. They were looking into the cabin's bedroom and it was occupied-by two women, their two women. Both were very, very naked-except for the big fat brown dildo that speared out from in front of Lori's crotch just as if she had a weird, shining, brown cock.
Nah, Pete thought, staggered. I guess Roz isn't too uptight at that-not about girl-to-girl stuff, anyhow. Not when she kneels there naked while Lori fucks her from behind. Boy-what a lovely ass! and look at all that tit-flesh hanging down! Shit-I want her more than ever. I want to get cock into that... hm. Maybe this is the opportunity and the time. OK, Mr. Pete Seaver, Big Arranger-start arranging!
Such were Pete Seaver's excited reflections- and he had not yet realized that his wife's big brown cock was not only fucking Roz from behind, but in the behind!
The two men stood and stared, helplessly, while a wild mixture of thoughts whirled like a maelstrom through John Alston's head... and Pete Seaver used his own brain like a calculating machine just as he had most of his life. John, naturally, was both shaken and nervous. He knew about Roz's past life. Yet it was impossible to view such a scene, two squirming, hunching, panting female bodies in the natural state, without being aroused. Naturally he appreciated the sight of Rosalind; they hadn't been intimate long enough for him to have become accustomed to her to the point of detachment. But-his eyes were on Lori Seaver more.
He watched the way her hair bounced, the way her naked, dark-tipped tits danced, the way her rounded buttocks clenched, big hollows leaping into their sides as she hunched forward to sink her cock into the other woman.
Yes, damned right. She was a good-looking woman. A sexy woman. And sure, damned right. He'd love to make it with her. But certainly he and Roz weren't ready for...
Bullshit! She's ready to be making out with another woman, he thought. She's ready to take that damned artificial cock right to the hilt, up the ass, all right! And it sure isn't because she isn't getting enough of the real thing! Just for a little, I'd...
"Oh you sexy piece!" Lori said loudly, gasping. "You love it, don't you! Love it love it love it!" She emphasized each "love it" with a strong hard surge with her false cock into the kneeling woman's body. "God, how I'm enjoying it, too!"
"Good, good," Roz mumbled weakly. "Good for you too, Lori?"
"Ab-so-lutely!" The brunette grinned suddenly. "Oh boy, would Pete love to see this-or better still be doing this! He's been hinting around about wanting to get it up my ass for a long time, now. I think he must have made it that way with someone else sometime in the past couple of years and really got off on it!"
Pete was staggered. Yes, now he saw-that relentlessly hard fake cock was going into Roz Alston's asshole, not her pussy! Oh Jesus Christ-he had to get this damned John to go along with the plan forming in his mind! Yet right now it was so hard to take his eyes off the scene in the bedroom, the thought and sight of that big thick rammer ramming in and out and in and out of the kneeling doll's sweet hot tight upturned little asshole!
That weird spectacle was both sexually arousing and strange to watch.
The kneeling Roz was quivering and quaking, trembling and moaning in sheer pleasure. Her long tits leaped and swung widlly beneath her bowed body, braced on hands and trembling knees. Her cunt was oiling itself copiously, until the inner dew was visible to the watching men, oozing down and out to her wet labial folds and downy pubic hair.
In and out of her gaping asshole drove the flailing pole of the other woman's brown plastic cock.
She grunted and quivered as that big thing raged back and forth in her ass, up her ass, pistoning, a few inches in, a few inches back and out and then back in again, forcefully dilating her.
The naked brunette's muscles rippled with the strain of her lurching, rocking fuck of the other woman. Jackhammer thrusts pounded the unyielding dildo in and out of her yawning anus with a blinding, whipping, buttock-slapping speed.
The sounds trickling up from both women's throats were of animalistic pleasure.
Those sounds came clearly to their watching husbands, as did the sight of tremors that raced through passion-flushed flesh. The dildo-equipped woman poked and prodded with it, way up inside the supple, velvety tunnel in a way that made the kneeling girl squirm in feverish response. She knew that imitation cock was buried in her distended asshole to the cup that pressed back against Lori's cunt.
What the men did not know, of course, was that the dildo was a two-ended one and that Lori was fucking herself very pleasantly up the squishy cunt while she rammed and jammed the other woman in the anus!
Shaking all over, Pete Seaver touched John Alston's arm. He felt it quiver. Good! John was no less excited. Their eyes met, though it was difficult tearing them away from the wild sight on the other side of the window. Pete beckoned. Reluctantly, the two men stepped several paces away. John's eyes kept rolling back toward the window, while Pete spoke urgently.
"I heard you the first time. Sure it's obscene. It's also wicked, against the law, naughty and orgiastic. But I heard you the first time-do we dare! And I tell you of course we dare! There's no one up here but us, in the first place. In the second, we'll have sense enough to pull the shade over that damned window."
"That's... not what I meant... The women... Lori and Roz. I mean, our just busting in-" John shot a confused glance at the window.
"Dare! Lord, man, what are they doing? You think they're going to give us a hard way to go after what we've seen? Shit, man! They'll go along with absolutely anything-and hope we never mention what started it all off... those two girls of ours in there grunting and hunching in the lesbian game!"
John bit his lip. Pete talked some more. He prevailed; John at last nodded, persuaded. He gave his friend a tight grin. It was then that Pete pointed out that both of them had developed unusually tight pants. True; each man had a fat, throbbing hard-on.
Together, they went around the house and let themselves in as silently as thieves through the front door. Pete closed it just as quietly behind them and made sure it was locked. Then he and John stripped.
Both women were on the bed, facing the door, with Roz on her hands and knees, Lori kneeling erect behind her. The two humping wives stared from enormous, stricken eyes when their men came walking into the bedroom with angry faces and businesslike strides-naked, big dark-flushed erections waving in the air like batons to direct this symphony of sex into a new set of movements.
"Puh-Pete!"
"John!"
"Marsha," Pete said, mockingly. He walked past Roz, alongside the bed. "Ah-ah-don't move, don't dare pull out, my dear darling cock-wearing wife! I've just smeared this hard-on with Keri lotion and it's going in you the same way your cock is in Roz, baby-and in the same place!"
"Buh--but Pete... I... I'm... I mean you... Pete darling I'm virgin back there!"
Pete had circled to the window and he dragged the shade all the way down to the sill. "That's what you should have done, you hot-cunted wench! As for your being 'virgin back there'-tomorrow, darling, you won't be able to say that!"
His wife was frozen, trembling, her hands on the exciting split rounds of Roz's upturned ass, her eyes fixed like great glassy marbles on her husband.
"And before you start babbling about it, Lori," he said, "consider how I got this hard-on!"
"Same way I did," John said, clambering onto the bed's other end, on his knees. "From watching the most lewd, salacious sight two husbands ever saw!"
On his knees, he came to pause before the face of his wife, who was on hands and knees. The big, budlike head of his deeply pink prick was directly before her big ash-gray eyes. "All right, slut. You couldn't wait for sex-don't leave me out. Eat that. You'll still get your-fucking... powered by Pete behind Lori!"
"JO-" That was all Lori got out, because as her mouth rounded to form the second letter of her husband's name he gave her neither time nor opportunity to say more. Her irate and barbarically impatient man shoved the fatly swollen red knob of his dick into her mouth and both hands into her hair.
Roz couldn't back away; behind her was Lori with the dildo deep in her asshole... and behind Lori Pete was now on the bed, kneeling up, with one hand gripping her thigh a little painfully while with his other hand he guided his crotch's muscular and rigid extention in between her tremulous ass cheeks.
"You'd better think hard about relaxing, baby," he told her, "because you're going to get your colon cleaned in about two shakes of a slut's tail!"
"I-I'm tuh-trying," she gasped. A great tear sparkled on her cheek and now an identical one overflowed her other eye. "Please... baby... darling... be-be gentle!"
"Would you listen to this darling little girl!" Pete cried, chuckling. "Sounds like a little girl on her first time-I didn't hear any whimper-whining like that out of Roz, Lori!"
"Wer-well... well she's not virgin where John's got his cock-or in the behind either. Why don't you two bullies really turn this into an orgy-and one we'll all enjoy... by letting me use my mouth and you put that monster of yours in her ass, not mine!"
John felt Roz's mouth go dead still all around the big, face-stuffing shank of his dick. He hung onto her hair, keeping her in place-and unable to say a word. His eyes met Pete's, over Lori's shoulder. And suddenly an inhibition snapped loose inside John Alston, like an overstretched rubber band.
"She's right," he nodded. "Bottoms need proper breaking in, Pete. Only one here is-slip your cock up it. Roz-be still and just accept it, babe, because that dildo's coming out of your ass and the real thing's coming in."
Roz, horrified, tried to pull free to voice her objections. Her husband did not let her-and he kept her gagged, too. For several seconds both Lori and Pete knelt, staring at John. Then, slowly, the brunette's mouth curved up into a smile. Taking a hand off the choice flesh of Rosalind's wide, rounded-and wide-split-rump, she reached back to pat her husband's thigh and give it a loving little squeeze.
"You heard the man, darling," she murmured. "After all-you did make him General Manager!"
"And President-in-Charge-of-Vice," Pete grinned and started tugging backward.
With her mouth stuffed full of familiar and beloved cock, Roz could only grunt when the shank of hard plastic stuffing her other end was forcibly dragged out. She felt the bed move-but could not speak, or look around. Her hair was firmly in her husband's grasp; his cock firmly entrenched in her warming face.
He bent as far over as he could without pulling his dick free of her mouth. "Don't look around and you'll never see a thing, darling. Just close your eyes and love it. Pardon me for sounding like a sexist, but I am-and you two silly girls have this coming!"
"Buwub," Roz said, around his penis.
Then she said, "PHU-UWW!" For, filled with blood and rigidly erect, a hot hard-on had just replaced the dildo in her ass.
Horror rocked her. God, her own husband had invited another man to shove his cock into her ass and he was doing it! Listen to the beast- making noises like the happiest animal in the world and... and... cock felt so good, so nice and warm and fleshy, after that hard chill unyielding damned dildo!
Sc-c-chhlu-u-uckkk and a slime-coated dildo came out of Lori's drenched, long-stuffed pussy as she wallowed on the bed, staring at her husband's lovely tightening-up ass cheeks while he powered the dick into the other woman's thoroughly opened and absolutely welcoming asshole.
While the other man fucked her anally, John fucked his wife's face.
Long fat dick slid in and out of her straining face. And ass.
The way it kept her jaws distended made the softly writhing girl unable to control her saliva or to swallow. She drooled helplessly. Just beneath the straining hole Pete happily plugged, her other mouth dripped, too.
Hard thick cock, very wet, very thick, made lewd, slurping noises as it drilled in and out between her ovaled lips and saliva ran down her chin to wind along the cleavage between her heaving, rocking breasts. Steadily, lurching, tightening his ass, listening to the other man's grunts as he fucked her ass, he pumped in and out of her head. His hands in her hair held it steady and in place.
That, Lori Seaver thought, is just about enough. Where's it say Roz gets all the action of both those nice pretty pricks?
Though he was preoccupied with what he was doing, with the hot straining humid tightness all around his dick, her husband became aware of her, abandoned and empty, a mere spectator to Rosalind's double fuck.
"Lori," Pete said. "Get yourself in under her, on your back. Stretch out with your legs under John. Suck her big hanging knockers, baby and you can play around with her cunt and my balls, too, all at the same time."
"But-" Pete gave her a look. Lori obeyed. When she started to position herself, John obligingly widened the distance between his knees. Lori dragged a pillow in under her head. That way she didn't even have to strain her neck; she was able to lie there on her back and lick and suck the big downward dangling plummets of the other woman's breasts. They were doing a lot of jiggling-Roz was, after all, being hunched and pumped from both ends at once.
Putting a hand back and up, Lori found the other woman's cunt. It was very wet. It was open. In this position, Lori could slide a thumb easily into the humid, gaping hollow, while her fingers were free to slip up behind it. They twiddled her husband's jerking, swinging balls while he ran his hot hard-on in and out of Roz's wide-open anus.
And John continued face fucking the girl on her hands and knees. He was pleased to discover that he could look straight down and see the breasts of the supine woman beneath her, with their nipples all thick and dark, brown and red, all at once. More, by bending his neck just a little, he was looking down at Lori's open cunt. Long distended and reamed by the other end of the dildo with which she'd reamed Roz's ass, it was so ready and receptive for Pete's anxiously twitching, reaming cock.
Careful so as not to lose his balance, John slipped a hand down there.
His fingers slid over the velvet mat of night-black hair that covered Lori's furrowed bulgy mound. She sighed and twitched.
"Ohh," she sighed. "Ummm... thank you darling... yes, oh yes, do that!"
She lifted her knees to change the angle of her pussy, profferring it to his hand. Her knees and lower thighs pressed up against his butt and in a moment he discovered that he could lean back on them, propping himself. That was nice. Now he had less need to worry about his balance, while he hunched cock into his wife's face and played with the other woman's pussy.
Pure erogenous arousal flowed through her spasming body as he sank his fingers into her, two of them, peeling open her sex lips and gliding up their channel.
While he face fucked one woman, he began finger fucking the other, who was licking the dangling tits of the first while playing with her cunt-and the hanging, swinging, hot balls of the other man.
The other man... Pete was in heaven.
Turned up to him, for him, were the smooth and tender ovals of a very female ass, the ass of another man's wife. Between them, for the first time in his life, his thick tool vanished and was swallowed up by the tight, rubbery little hole he had turned round and huge. It took his cock easily, nicely and never let up its pressure all around the sensitive girth of the big organ.
His surging hips sent bulgy tool way up her rectum with resounding whacks of his lower belly against the perfect curves of her hind cheeks. It was wonderful, this experience he'd been dreaming of for well over a year, ever since he'd seen it again and again in that movie. He loved it, loved it.
Thick and pounding lustfully with engorging blood, his dark red prick prodded wide the cloacal passage of the kneeling woman.
She was wagging her hips, too, fucking herself on his cock, fucking her ass and her mouth both at once, on hands and knees with a man kneeling at either end of her burning bodv, trying to give it an overload of pleasure. And there were fingers in her pussy, too, slim and female. And a sweet mouth worked away at one of her elongated and thickened nipples, hurting it a little-just right.
God, Roz thought, this is heaven!
Oh shit, Pete was thinking, this is heaven, man!
Lord, John thought, all this at once-I must have died and gone to fucking heaven!
Damn it, Lori thought wretchedly, this is nice-but this slut's got all the cock! It's all I can do to keep from scratching the inside of her pussy and biting her damned nipple off! This is hell!
Her teeth teased the fleshy hard bullets of the other woman's nipples. They had grown huge, nearly as big as Lori's-and Roz had never birthed or nursed a couple of kids!
Setting her teeth, she chewed. Roz shivered all over and made moaning sounds from her cock-stuffed mouth, but her hands made no effort to stop Lori. So-Lori bit harder and began shaking her head like a dog worrying an animal it had caught.
Trying hard to scream with the mouthful of fleshy, gagging prick, Roz overloaded. Her sensitive anus and rectum had been long fucked. Now her pussy was being fingered, her mouth was stuffed with dick and being used as if she were just a slave, a sex slave and finally teeth were sending pain up into her dangling breast from the fat nipple into which they sank. She overloaded.
Her passion-quivering body stiffened. Juices gushed from her cunt's slippery depths to run down Lori's wrist. Her fingers curled like talons and dug into the bedsheet. A blinding rapture rose up and staggered her.
Orgasm buffeted her like a sleek pinnace in a high wind. Her every cell seemed to explode in an almost unbearable ecstasy, then to be assaulted and inundated by pounding tidal waves of final sensate satisfaction.
She couldn't take it. It was too much. The most powerful climax of her life seemed to burn out her every nerve end. It overwhelmed her mind. Her mouth went slack around the enormously thick dick that stuffed it. Her arms began quivering. Then her elbows bent. She sagged forward.
"Owww!" As his wife's face slid limply forward, her teeth scraped down the upper surface of his virile dick. Hastily he caught her face in his hands, held it in place while he backed away.
His cock flipped out of her mouth and lurched high as if on a spring, slapping her face and then his belly with a wet smacking sound.
"Dear God-she's passed out!"
"Ah!" Pete cried out and his eyes were desperate. "No, no, hold her, don't let her fall-I'm... almost there!"
"Well if all you want is a hole to come in, man, get your arms around her hips and hold her there. I've got to get my bone into something!"
"But-"
"And if you prefer a live body, give that hard-on of yours to Lori!"
"Yes! Me!" Lori tugged at her husband's balls, hanging at the rearward seam of Roz's flooded, dripping cunt.
"You get this one," John said.
Holding his limp wife's shoulders up and out of the way with one straining arm, he ducked underneath. Roz slumped on his back as he stretched over Lori. Her eyes were very bright with excitement and anticipation and happiness. Her hand leaped from Roz's cunt to John's cock. It was huge, hot and wet. The writhing woman tucked it swiftly and greedily into herself, seating it well in between the soft wet lips of her cradling cunt.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh... good... good... cock!"
The big hot chunk of meat went in and in. It felt better than just good-even better because it was a strange cock and one she'd wondered about and thought about for months.
The excitement was heightened for him, too, though he had not lusted after this voluptuous brunette the way she had for him. His plunging body roiled and jerked, driving his massive hunk of needy maleness into a seething glowing moltenness. His passion spurred him-her passion spurred him, in the obvious undisguised hunger of her body beneath his. His entire nervous system went mad and he fucked hard into the woman he'd found fucking his wife.
Everything about her was different. The color of her hair, her glossy black pubic patch, the size and shapes of her breasts and their dark, dark nipples, which were even bigger than his Rosalind's. The shape of her, the very feel of her was different, excitingly different. Even the feel of this humid and pulpy vaginal meat around his lunging cock was not the same as Rosalind's gripping womb walls.
He loved every difference and he balled her hard and fast and with a great, soaring pleasure.
Convulsive shudders heaved her and her breath came in panting gasps. She grabbed at him, pulled him down onto her so that she had all his weight-and a good deal of the unconscious Roz's. Her eyes glowed the color of lust. She was thrusting her hips up and down, wildly and almost frantically seeking out and meeting his every pumping stroke.
Both of them forgot about Pete. Neither of them gave a damn about Pete. Lust owned them.
The deep-set blue eyes that stared up at him were eager, hungry. Hard-on cock filled her to the tender head of her deeply hidden cervix and filled the grunting brunette's brain with indescribable bliss. With all her might, she clutched him close and bore down to cunt-squeeze him within her.
Grinning to show her he felt it, the instraining man grasped one exquisite breast and vised it in his hand as if it were ripe fruit.
"Hu-unnnnnnh!" she gasped. "Hard! Harder! Good!!! Squeeze-squeeze hard!"
"I'm a rapist," he said intensely, drawing her into a fantasy, for his head was spinning and light with his lust for her. "I'm going to tear out your cunt and mash and grind every inch of your sweet tits, I'm going to sink my strong fingers into their softness, like this-and grind deep into this hot tittyflesh while I fuck you blind and crying!"
"Oooohhh!!" she gasped and her eyes were very bright. Her hands tugged at him.. "Yeah! Ah god, you evil rapist-if only my strong big husband were here! Uh-ooh!" she grunted, shoving hard against his hard lunges. "Ah, oh, I can feel my poor titty tissues turning into pulp and jelly with you gouging up me and forming new shapes out of my breasts with your nasty mean rapist hands!"
"Sure," he said aloud, humping and squeezing and his voice was a harsh, surly growl. "Get fucked, chick!"
She laughed aloud.
They became a body-slapping, gasping tangle of arms and legs, a complete melding of male and female flesh.
Though it wasn't easy, Pete meanwhile caught hold of himself. "To hell with fucking a dead body like this! When I come I want her to feel it... and if she and John object to my making it with her when she's conscious again, I swear I'll throw his ass into the stream for the fishes!"
With that firm decision he pulled his cock out of Roz's anus, loose in her unconscious repose and let the limp woman slip side wise to lie on the bed like an unusually beautiful doll, one arm and a few strands of hair trailing loosely over the bed's edge.
While he damned well intended to break in his woman's ass, now, this wouldn't be the best time for that!
On his knees, he moved over to the other couple; his wife and the husband of the girl he'd just been buggering. They were going at it like a pair of wild kids who'd never had it before and had been told they wouldn't again for years. That didn't bother Pete Seaver; his Lori was a hot woman and both of them knew it and they each fucked with others. True, he had never actually been present while she made it with another man before, but... it was OK. It was interesting-even fascinating both to see and to think about, his wife wallowing in the arms of another man whose big hard-on dick was shoving around up in her whore's pussy.
Shit, he mused, kneeling there beside the rutting pair and idly fondling his smeared erection. He wouldn't interrupt them to ask John to get behind her so she could get her mouth on her husband's dick while she took the other one up the cunt. Nah, he'd just wait-and watch!
So the husband knelt playing with himself and watched his wife fucking with another man. Not just any man. His own Vice-President and General Manager.
Tremors leaped through that sensuous woman's lithe form. Her firm body strained to her lover's. Its proud strength quivered and pulsed beneath him. Pete watched his naked ass bob. It tightened, knotting up, to slam him forward, then relaxed a bit, the hollows on the outsides of the ass cheeks easing, when he pulled back for another ass-tightening lunge up her musty slash. It was interesting. Arousingly exciting, even. Pete watched.
The rangy, sweat-coated man rammed his narrow hips hard into her crotch and the sexy slut grunted and moaned. She acted as if she were losing her senses. Huh, Pete thought; she can take plenty of fucking! He saw her widen the distance between her sleek, tensing thighs and watch with dilated eyes the rise and fall of that new male face over hers. Her blue eyes were dreamy, passion-filled. She was sweating. Her arms quivered and her husband knew the hot-blooded sensualist he'd married was fighting herself to keep from raking the other man's back with her nails, like a sleek lithe yowling panther in heat.
Pete saw and heard the other man come. He watched the jerks and the vehemently hard straining and tightening of his hairy male ass as he threw his semen into her.
As soon as he was sure his friend was through and had a moment's rest, Pete dropped a hand on his shoulder.
"Pardon me, mister, but I want a shot at that slut. Mine wore out."
John was laughing helplessly as he pulled out of a swampy cunt-clutch and rolled onto his side. His body slapped into that of his wife and he glanced over at her. She was breathing deeply and evenly, though she looked like a corpse. Fucked out! He shook his head. Wow! How long had Lori shagged her ass with the dildo before Pete had plugged into it with his cock-and John had plugged her mouth with his?
When he looked back at the other couple, Pete had taken his place between the legs of a grunting Lori. She acted as if she was groggy, only half aware of what she was doing, of what was being done with her.
Plugged into the familiar socket, her husband rode her soft, yielding body in a blind fury.
It was John's turn to watch bobbing, jerking, quivering, clenching male ass, all hairy and tight between the uplifted feminine legs. Pete's body pummeled her arrogantly curved form as he fucked his beefy cock in the tight grip of her scented, squirming, sperm-sloshy cunt.
John sat watching thoughtfully.
Her superb, very rounded thighs clung desperately to her man while he pummeled her pussy in a passionate frenzy of lust. Both lurching bodies were bathed in a glowing moisture and their pulses raced as she took his spasming, skewering hardness far up inside her squirming body.
"Oh," the twitching brunette groaned out, "O-o-oh-h-hhhhhh!!"
Jolts of mingled pleasure and extreme libidinal need flamed through her panting form. The wantonly jerking woman had to fight to control herself enough to form words, rather than groans and sighs and grunts of animal sexuality. John listened with male pleasure to that throatily purring voice.
"Uh-unnnnnnngghhh! Oh, ohh ye-essssss!! Harder baby, oh God Christ Jesus harder give me cock so that it hurts!"
He tried, smiling tightly. His body lashed hers like a whip.
Smiling tightly, John yielded to the impulse to move over and... help. He did. His hands moved in, found her thick, pulpy nipples and began squeezing. Lori gasped, then howled in pleasure. John squeezed hard. Pete's pummeling body banged her smooth, almost transparently clear skin.
She sighed and groaned aloud, doubly pleasured. Her eyes went out of focus. Her mouth drooped open. She bounced loosely beneath the rapidly accelerating tempo of her pinched nipples and the skewering rhythmically through her rich-furred loins and up her hot, bubbling cleft.
It happened to her. Seismic spasms quaked her entire body. Her eyes rolled loosely and she grunted from the throat as she lurched into a climax that claimed her utterly. That excited Pete Seaver that last little bit and he fired his load into her with hard bursts.
When he was spent and emptied and rose slowly from her to look down into her sweaty face, he was astonished.
Like Lori, Roz had overloaded. The two women had played a long while before the advent of their men and this session had gone on long, at a constantly high peak. Lori, too, was unconscious-with a silly smile on her face.
The two men looked at each other.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A number of changes had been made in the sprawling basement recreation room of Pete and Lori Seaver's big house. All the changes were a result of the weekend they had spent at their cabin with John and Roz Alston. There had been a lot of talking, that weekend, once the two women had recovered from their sexually brought on collapse into unconsciousness-and a lot more sex, for they had decided to continue what they had begun.
The relationship continued afterward, too. Hence the changes in the Seaver rec room.
The huge kingsize bed, a hard mattress on a box spring, without frame and thus low to the floor, was supposedly for the kids. That's what Pete and Lori told other friends, anyhow. The exercise mat was for Lori, they said. As for the very low, well-padded tables covered with leather the Seavers had had custom made- those were for seating at parties, naturally.
The real purpose of one of the low, so luxuriously padded and covered tables was being demonstrated right now by a not-quite naked Roz Alston. She wore a black bra with the tips out, so that her nipples speared through and she wore handsome high boots-and nothing else. Unless one counted the black blindfold. Roz had found that she loved being blind during these meetings of the two couples. That way she could concentrate on feeling, hearing, with no possibility of distractions.
Kneeling on the foot-high table just now, Roz was feeling two cocks.
Behind her, between the booted calves of her kneeling legs, stood Pete Seaver. His erect cock was buried between the booted woman's rounded hind cheeks. According to the rules, he did not move,-though he did shiver now and again, for her asshole around his thickly tumescent dick felt very good indeed, all warm and tight. And every now and again clever Roz gave it a little extra squeeze with muscles she had learned to control nearly as well as those of her fingers.
Standing before her, facing Pete and grinning at him, was Roz's husband.
In one warm hand-she held his balls, lovingly cupped. She was not sucking his cock, or face fucking it. She only licked, over and over, every inch and every micro millimeter of it. She had been doing so for six minutes and the naked man was beginning to moan.
Roz's other arm went through his legs, so that she could fondle Lori's tits.
Lori knelt on another of the specially made benches or low tables. Her face was also pressed close to the quivering man; she was licking his rearward crack and tonguing the tight little coil of his anus. She had just begun, for she had first performed the identical service to her husband's asshole. This was nicer; this way she got her breasts toyed with.
Lori wore black mesh stockings held up by a garter belt of black satin edged with lace. The contrast was beautiful, with her skin additionally set off by her trimmed patch of jet pubic hair.
The Seaver children, of course, were long since abed and the door that opened onto the steps down to the family room was locked from this side. The intercom, which connected with every other room of the house, was open so that any untoward sounds from the children would be heard by their parents and guests. Their noises, on the other hand, would be heard by no one save themselves. The four orgiasts were very careful about this. Their preparations were akin to a pilot's preflight checking drill, though not quite so complicated.
"I-can't tell you how bad I want to move!" Pete said, shakily.
John grinned. "Three minutes more, man. Then we can both do something to alleviate this torture."
Lori's tongue left his anus and her fingers tweaked his balls from behind. "Torture! Well I like that! Here your two sex-slaves are busily arousing both of you as few men are aroused and you call it torture. What about us?"
Grinning, John reached back, found her face and thrust a thumb into her mouth. Instantly she began a salacious suction, meanwhile rearing into an erect kneeling posture.
That proved rewarding; as she'd expected, he soon slid his thumb from her mouth and let his hand ease down to her breasts. She made purring sounds while he caressed and pressed them.
"All right then, woman, two and a half more minutes and we'll do something to alleviate your torture, too!"
"That's better," she purred throatily and rose to rub her cunt on his hand. He had never looked around. He was not supposed to. Tonight's scenario had been written out by Pete and he liked them to follow the "rules" exactly. In this case, it was harder for him than for anyone. His cock wanted very much to fuck the ass in which it was lovingly and claspingly gripped.
"I'm happy," Roz said quietly.
Both men chuckled and John made his dick flex in her mouth. "No wonder," Lori snapped. "You've got everything a girl would want-two cocks inside you!"
"She's only licking mine," John pointed out.
"She'd better be. Sucking is off limits."
"Darling," Pete said quietly, "isn't there something you're supposed to be contributing to our game aside from chatter?"
"Yassuh, boss," she said, with a smile in her voice and she knelt down again to begin riding her tongue up and down and around in the warm, saliva-wet crease between the other man's small, closely set buttocks.
"Ah... Christ, thank God!" Pete next said. "It's time-the ten minutes of this torment are over! God-I've had this hard-on for thirty-five minutes now and I'm about to blow the top of my head off."
With a secret smile, Roz deliberately pushed strongly back, engorging her rectum on his cock-then pulled forward to slide her mouth over her husband's. Both men groaned and John trembled back a little so that Lori inadvertently gave him an assful of tongue. "Mmmmmm," she hummed, squeezing his buttocks.
Then the four of them crossed the carpet-tiled floor to the low, huge bed supposedly there for the two junior Seavers to play on. It was not, of course; it was for their parents. To play on.
The men happily watched as the two women met in the center of the great bed. They exchanged a long soulful kiss, pressing and rubbing their breasts together while running fondling hands each over the other's body. Gently and slowly, they went down into a low kneel-and then stretched out, their heads in opposite directions but facing.
With pure delight that pleased all four of them, the officially named "Cabin Orgiasts Association," the two women began kissing and softly licking each other's nicely clipped but unshaven cunts. Clever movements of their legs gave their breasts nice attention, too, while from where he stood Pete could see Lori's hand, two of her fingers out of sight deep within Roz's anal cleavage and John watched his own wife's hand fondling the other woman's pretty hind cheeks.
The men moved in. Pete stretched out behind Roz.
With the greatest of ease, he slid his cock back into her welcoming anus. While his wife fondled his balls, they all heard Rosalind's long sigh- into the other woman's cunt.
Then Roz's cunt-lapping tongue was pressed by a new arrival, for John was stretched behind Lori and she had lifted her upper leg to facilitate his sliding his fierce hard-on into her juicy vagina. Her sigh and his rose together, quivered together on the air.
Both men reached around, John to grasp a handful of breasts, Pete to begin fondling and tweaking the lavender-dyed nipples thrusting out of Roz's tipless bra.
Slowly at first, they began to move.
Each movement of the man behind her pressed each woman's face into the soft, furry girl-flesh she licked. Lori grunted when Roz's entire nose slid into the upper seam of her vagina, which was now cock-filled. The sudden clamping of her cunt sent a terrific thrill through the man behind her, like co-mingled fire and ice that made John Alston gasp and gouge up hard into that wetly clasping pocket of flesh.
He began moving a bit more urgently, fucking his friend's wife from behind.
Already Pete was hunching faster, sending his sensation-assaulted cock deeply and rapidly in and out of the other woman's humid asshole.
How he loved this! How wonderful ass fucking was for Pete Seaver! How great it was that Roz liked it too, a lot, since Lori wasn't too crazy, even yet, about taking a big thick male organ up her back passage. Knowing his movements were plastering Roz's cunt against his wife's face, he pumped in and out to create a mounting pressure and sensual awareness in the surging, wincing circle of her stretching entry, where the greatest sensitivity was. Pete and Roz were connoisseurs after so much experience, buggery experts. They knew that it was just within her anus that she was the most sensitive and he tried hard to remember-though what he loved best was to drive in as deeply as he could go, so that the entire length of his erection was caressed and squeezed by her rectal passage way.
Nicely and plushly upholstered feminine rear cheeks padded the other man's strokes, too, though his sluicing erection was encased in squirming wet cunt, not rectum.
His lower torso and groin thumped into the cushiony flesh of Lori's opulent ass with every drive he made into her pussy from behind. His hairy chest, glistening with sweat, scrubbed the smooth expanse of her bare back.
Convulsive lunges sent him deep. The hard muscular extension of his groin prodded its big glans far along the woman's flooded cunt tunnel, challenging its walls, rearranging every inner tissue. Each fierce thrust flattened her buttocks, which then seemed to rebound, aiding his out-strokes by seeming to push firmly back against him.
Her tongue dug into the other woman's fleshy pussy and withdrew partially to play sexily over its excitingly splayed lips.
An equally pleasing female tongue slicked about over her cunt, too, swiping over its thickly pouting labes and touching too the darling familiar prick that splayed them open and held them in that large circle.
The thumps of Pete's groin against her ass as he fucked in between its cheeks drove Roz's face into that mushy pussy and its distended plug; the impacts of John's loins against the other woman's buttocks similarly crushed her face into his wife's empty vaginal channel.
Intensely pleasured by gliding cock, each women sighed and moaned and strove to increase the other's pleasure.
John caught the scent of passion-wild cunt. Make that plural, cunts.
Grinning happily, he fucked his friend's wife right through a quivering, jerking orgasm. And he kept on fucking. Jerking and whipping on the fulcrum of his hip, his body whipped the cushiony pads of her buttocks. He ground in strongly, feeling himself spiraling steadily to steeply soaring heights of carnal joy. Lust swept over him like an irresistible tidal wave and he tried to saw the twitching, whining, back-hunching woman in half.
Without slowing his fucking movements he slid a hand around her to her naked tits. When he worked his fingers between them as she lay on her side, he found great heat and the wetness of sweat in their close-pressed contact. His strong fingers twirled over the tightly crinkled pink crests in deliberate teasing strokes. He felt her shiver in response.
He hand-clamped her breasts, both of them.
His loins swung back and forth, shagging her deeply. His hands smoothed over her sweat-wet, well-fleshed tits, caressed the tender curves and slid out again to their rosebud tips.
She sighed and her body quaked. Her cunt parted and leaked its thick, rich discharge over his entrenched cock-and the other woman's mouth. Smiling, fucking well in, he redoubled his attentions to her titties. His fingers worked the jutting nipples teasingly.
Her cunt thoroughly lubricated the lunging organ with its abundant secretions. Cock slopped them in and out and tongue lapped them up. The viscous fluid coated his dick so that he fucked her with incessant sucking and slurping noises.
She liked that. It was just sublimely lewd!
So was this little orgy, this lovely coupling of the four of them. It added so much excitement-extra excitement-to sex!
Her ripely bold tits jiggled wildly against his hand and broke out in a new hot sheen of sweat. Spearing her tongue into another woman's hot wet pussy, she took cock in her own and loved the entire commingled sensation. The pulsingly vibrant brunette's whole body jerked and twitched. She loved the sensation of being so deeply and thoroughly fucked by that throbbing big thick truncheon, while playing the lesbian game at the same time.
The man behind her was making grunting noises, like a hard-fucking animal. Writhing, humping, he was totally caught up in a sustained and awesome rut. It was not desire, not merely want; this was need. The strong, constant movements of his hips kept his cock moving, plowing deeply up the clinging hot tunnel of her passion-wracked body.
The other man was hunching just as madly and furiously. He pummeled Roz's outpoked cheeks, forcing his cock's huge knob deeper into her ass with every frenetic thrust. An edacious pleasure glinted in his eyes as he rocked her perfectly shaped body. He stroked strongly in, reaming ass, gasping with his virile exertions, loving it and yet wanting to come, needing to come, practically praying for climax. His heaving bone plunged in and out of her gloving asshole as though it were a cunt, stretching his friend's wife's little anal hallway more and more so that his massive erection flowed back and forth with increasing ease.
He felt her pop off another orgasm. He knew she had already come twice. He had felt those climaxes, too. His wife, he knew, was licking her empty pussy while he fucked her full asshole and pounded its full-blown cheeks. Wonderful. He loved the doing of it and the thought of it. He wished he could shove his cock right on through her anus and rectum and into her cunt and out and into his wife's wet lesbianizing mouth and down her gullet.
The thought sent a great shudder through him and he grasped her tightly to ass-whip her with a series of swift hard lunges that made him gasp-and that brought him off.
She heard his one last gasp as with a jerk his cock vomited a fiery jet of sperm into the depths of her ass. Lori's juicy pussy swallowed her squeal of happiness as her bowels received his seminal tribute. She felt his cock swollen a bit larger. She felt the first steamy warm jet and the next and the next. Cascades of white-hot cum up her asshole were like roiling, hot lava that bubbled toward her bowels.
She bore down then, to ass-squeeze the last of his sperm up her rectum. And she grasped both Lori's tits in her hands, clamping, feeling John's hairy hand, while she crammed her pussy into the other woman's face so that she smeared it with spurting fluids.
Behind her Pete sagged and lay still but for his panting, his cock limpening a little in her inundated anus but not seeming to shrink a whit in the ever-snug confines of that muscular tunnel. Only the movements of the others moved him, with constant little jolts that John's rutting body transferred to Lori's, which passed them on to Roz and thence to the gasping Pete behind her.
Knowing that his wife would have a slight case of the runs tomorrow and the most minor of discomforts when she relieved herself, a reminder of tonight's activities, John decided to let Lori join her. He'd give her a semen enema, too.
The exciting thought was swiftly transformed to action.
He pulled his rutting hugely swollen dick out of her cunt.
He pushed it into her ass. Wet as his cock was, relaxed as the woman was, the big red head of his bone easily breached her anus and glided on it. She let out a cry of surprise, most of which was lost in the wet interior of Roz's body. He hung tightly to her, hip and breast and gently sank his cock all the way down her rectal throat, then pulled out, went all the way in again, pulled out and began a swift hard jolting buggerfuck.
He shot off into her in less than a minute and it was so good that he let out a yell he stilled only by pressing his open mouth down onto her upper arm. She pushed back against him, jiggling-and with the aid of his orgasm and Roz's tongue, Lori managed another climax herself.
No one moved from that great bed until both men had watched each woman suck and tongue his sperm from the other's ass. Without hesitation then each man kissed those cunt-sucking, ass-licking, semen-drinking mouths and a drowsy hour passed before John and Roz dragged themselves to their feet, dressed, kissed their hosts and fellow orgiasts good night and departed.
"You've come a long, long way, baby," Roz muttered as she entered the bedroom of her own home less than an hour later.
"Hmm?" John was already in bed, playing with what had astonished him by quickly becoming a swollen new erection. "What'd you say, sweetheart?"
"I was talking, believe it or not, to myself."
"Wigging out, 'swhat you are. Can't take all this sex."
She laughed. "That's what I was thinking about. All this sex. I mean-not being able to take it, lover-man. Oh no. What I just mumbled was that dummy phrase from the cigarette peddlers, 'You've come a long way, baby.' I put in an extra 'long' or two."
"You have indeed. For a rip-roaring lesbian, I mean," her husband said, with a chuckle.
She bounced onto the bed on her knees and gouged a thumb into his side. "Another crack like that and this thumb goes in your eye, Mister."
"There's an obvious answer to that," he said, fondling one jiggly titty.
"Hey, look what I found!" She shooed his hand away and wrapped her own around his long thick cock. "OK, I'll bite."
"Not that!!"
She chuckled. "No no, this I'll kiss. There. No, I mean what's the obvious remark you could make about my thumb?"
"Sit on it."
Laughing, she fell on him, kissed him.
The kiss lengthened, grew more passionate.
She slid down his body, her breasts catching on his chest and flattening, stretching along in her wake. Then she nestled down to his cock and began nuzzling and licking it.
"Mind if I amuse myself with this for a while?"
"Not at all. Mind if I drag it away from your face and fuck your pretty jiggly titties with it?"
"No I-fuck my... John! Another new way! How exciting!"
"Oh sweetheart, oh my darling ex-lesbian wife-there are lots of things we haven't done... you've got a long, long way to go, baby."
"Take me there, baby," she said and began sucking his cock.
