Anita Pearl Jones, a sweet young thing, suddenly found herself at fifteen deprived of all family when her mother, in a dumb moment, mixed bourbon with tranquillizers, which flipped her out of this wicked world.
Poor Anita, green-eyed and so deliciously shaped that lechers went pale with lust, had nowhere to go but to Uncle Arnold who lived in Southampton-by-the-sea.
He lived with Mona, his second wife, a well-fleshed hussy, and Bert, his eighteen-year-old son, a splendid stud whose chief aim seemed to be the care and cultivation of a rambunctious cock.
Sweet Anita, tender and innocent of the wicked ways of the world, felt grateful to have landed in the lap of luxury, safe and protected.
Alas, little did the poor darling realize that Fate had instead dumped her into a fierce nest of lechery.
Uncle Arnold was disgustingly rich, working as an overseas rep for a famous plane maker. His was very simple-bribing generals to order planes from his company. It just took personality and a million dollars under the table.
Arnold thought his niece, Anita, child of his only brother, a very spectacular morsel, and wondered if his horny son, Bert, could be trusted with such a delicious tidbit in the house.
Mona, Bert's stepmother, did not at all mind it when Anita came to live in the house. Mona herself was scarcely ever there, since her social life was very frantic. She was prone to parties, so that when Arnold went overseas, jockeying for a big job, with a juicy pussy on the side, Mona would try to keep amused in secret and sexy ways.
As for, Bert, he practically did handsprings when Anita came to the house and stalked her bedroom. Bert was a real jock, built with a hefty chest and biceps, and the sex drive of a lion in heat. He was so bedeviled by his brutal erections that, to get sleep, he was forced into unlimited self abuse.
For one thing, Bert had developed a sinister letch for his stepmother, Mona one of the sexpots of the western world. With Arnold overseas at times, she would get bored, indulge her taste for martinis, and would prance about the house, flaunting the delicious meat of her tits. This would put poor Bert up the pole, and he would go to his room to discipline his super-stiff pecker.
Bert, you see, had the usual Freudian fear of poaching on Poppa's things, so he fought hard to steer clear of Mona and her tempting tits. The entry of sweet Anita, however, brought a different erotic beat into the house.
Anita went into high school as a sophomore where Bert was a hotshot senior. And Bert went into hot fantasies on how to bring out the beast in his beautiful cousin, with her sweetly blossoming tits, how to discover the secret that lurked under those tight jeans caressing her sweet crotch.
But sweet Anita had no idea of the horrendous sex fantasies that paraded through the smutty head of her dearly loved cousin.
Anita, with the purity of a fifteen-year-old, would stare with her sea-green eyes in admiration at Bert, thinking how lucky to have almost found a brother to protect her from the wolfish men who seemed always to stare at her with disgusting lust.
Bert, at times, would discuss the problem of Anita's purity with his pal, Sid, also a jock at the high school, and cursed with the same smutty lusts toward females.
Sid thought deeply. "Why don't you get her drunk one night and then teach her the joys of fucking?"
"Get her drunk? She's fifteen."
Sid nodded wisely. "The right age to start on Jack Daniels."
"I'd rather she started on me." Bert said sadly. Then he added. "Jeez, Sid, if my old man ever found out, he'd tan my ass till it was sky blue."
Sid shook his head "Your old man? Underneath that silky front, I'll bet he's Jack the Ripper."
Bert had to laugh. Oh, it was true that Arnold was a super cocksmith, all right. Once, during one drunken night, he had been awakened by the crash of glass, and padded silently toward the living room to see his father tangle ass with Mona on the rug. It was a sight to sear your eyes, Bert thought, and the image printed itself in his mind.
Although obviously drunk, his father had got his pants down somehow, and with a big, bristling, amazingly thick cock, he was standing in front of a kneeling Mona who had part of the throbbing monster in her mouth, working hard on it, as if determined to make it disappear in her throat.
Bert, amazed, watched the spectacle, aware that his own cock had gone super rigid. He stood there rooted, watching Arnold, who groaned, grabbed Mona's head and began to thrust his tool into her mouth with force and rhythm.
Apparently it was cum time, for Arnold blasted off, and though Mona tried valiantly to swallow every drop of spunk, a few drops escaped to dot her lips, which, however, she promptly licked clean.
Bert fled silently from that scorched scene straight to his own bedroom, there to belabor his cock mercilessly to find ultimate relief.
But the lewd image of the bawdy Mona in her sex throes was printed on his memory, and it was therefore not hard to understand his letch each time he found himself alone with Mona.
Mona is a super cunt, he thought, but I have to control myself around here or Arnold will spatter me on the walls.
Bert, therefore; was greatly pleased when Anita entered their super-heated home. And now, in conference with Sid, he was fumbling for a way to arouse Anita to the evil joys of sex.
Sid thought deeply on how to help his fellow jock make it with the sweet Anita. He had seen her, and though she was fifteen, she was a fabulous turn-on.
"You could leave some dirty magazines around. You'd be surprised how sexy girls can get when they see sexy fuck pictures."
Bert stared. "You're pretty depraved."
Sid laughed. "Almost as much as you."
"But what makes you think that dirty pictures will work?"
"Take my word for it."
Then, for some far-out reason, Bert thought of Sid's mother, Vera, a choice morsel of meat, with heavy breasts, and of the time that he had come into Sid's house in tennis shorts and the intense way that Vera had stared at his phallic bunch up. Vera was a divorcee, and Bert suspected, a wanton woman. Were there dirty mags out at Sid's pad, Bert wondered?
Anyway, Bert did pick up a couple of sex mags, and dropped them in his room. They had marvelously colorful pictures of girls eating guys, guys eating girls, both eating each other.
It was a neat oral scene, especially the good-looking girls sucking big cocks, and it turned Bert on. He fought a good fight, but lost, and beat his meat valiantly, as he studied the pictures.
On Thursday, Anita came looking for Bert to help her with a math problem, but, alas, he was not yet home from school.
On his desk, however, she saw a magazine in brilliant color and she opened it curiously. Her eyes almost popped at the sight of the flesh show.
Anita, you see, had very limited experience in the world of sex, coming out of the cocoon of adolescence. She was a virgin, with the hang-up of virgins, that is to say, fear of the male prick, and of the lust she saw in the eyes of older men who drooled at the sight of virginal pussy.
As for Bert, she thought of him as a darling, a brother, for he always behaved sweetly to her. To discover that Bert looked at such wicked magazines came to her as a shock, even unnerved her. Her first impulse was to shut the magazine, and streak for her room, but curiosity nailed her there, and made her glance at the pictures, then study them. And to her innocent eyes, the scene looked like total debauchery.
Her pulse beat like a bird's heart, as she studied one particular picture-that of a blond Adonis with a well-muscled body, his tongue planted firmly, between the vaginal lips of this girl-she looking ecstatic. Her eyes were shut, her cunt was open, and her pink nipples were stiff with passion.
Anita well knew this feeling could not have been staged, and a surge of jealousy swept over her. A glance at the picture opposite showed this same shapely hussy with her full lips round the cock of the blond Adonis, and again, she looked to be in a state of pure bliss.
It has to be a fun thing for her, Anita thought, and she became aware then of wetness between her thighs. It was all wicked and terribly exciting.
She flipped the pages swiftly, for she had a dread of discovery, and found the other pictures deliriously obscene. Girls fucked in the cunt, in the ass, and iii the mouth, all with a look o� dreamy bliss that couldn't be faked.
And always the big cock, a swollen thing, with veins, and balls.
A furious flow of sensations went through Anita, and she fled the room, her head still loaded with sharp images of delectable orgy, and her body in a tumult of excitement. Never before had she experienced such a strange rush of feelings. She felt flipped out.
She closed the door of her bedroom, stripped her clothing and lay trembling on the bed, letting her mind replay the deliriously evil pictures.
They came to her mind vivid and sharp, and her palm just naturally rotated over her breasts, shapely and firm, the nipples erect. Her other finger stole down to her cunt, and she stroked her wet clit.
She thought of the blond Adonis, picturing him between her white thighs, his tongue on her torrid pussy, and she quivered with the thrill.
Her fingers never stopped the stroking of her clit, and the violent surge of sensations through her body were more thrilling than anything ever remembered.
Her stroking became more vigorous, and now, for some vague reason, the male in her mind became Bert, her cousin I This was terribly disturbing, but at the same time, delicious.
The taboo of cousin love somehow withered under the impact of her passion. She craved his touch, but the idea of sex with a cousin seemed disturbing.
Deep in the throes of her passion, she did not hear Bert enter the house.
He drifted to his room still high from a joint that he had shared with Sid, out in the car.
Now, in his room, he noticed an open magazine, and at a page he had not yet looked at. It hit him then that Anita had finally got to his room and rifled through the pages. The very idea that she had looked at his wicked picture made his pecker jump.
He thought quickly that his father was over in Japan, bribing somebody, and that Mona rarely got back home before midnight.
Strike while the maiden is hot and the time is ripe; he thought.
He moseyed over to her room, and though the door was shut, he sensed her presence. If there was anything to telepathy, he could pick up the erotic vibrations flowing out of that bedroom.
Did he have the guts to break in? He figured that this could be the perfect moment. He was still high; therefore, it was easy to be audacious, and if she had seen that picture, as he suspected, she had to be turned on.
He steeled himself, opened the door, and the sight of Anita, nude on the bed, blew his mind.
She not only was nude, but she was rubbing her breasts with one hand, and finger-fucking herself with the other. Her face was hot with lust.
"Bert," she gasped. "Please. Leave the room." And she fumbled to cover herself, but had trouble because the blanket was tucked in.
Although the sight had his gonads all gone, Bert put on a cool front, pulled out a joint, lit it, then sat down on the side of the bed.
"Cool it, Anita. Don't go off the wall."
She kept fumbling to get the covers over her, and he flipped at the sight of her creamy breasts, tipped with pink nipples, and the glimpse of her golden pussy hair that just covered her well-fleshed cunt.
His cock went to a devastating size in his pants, and he felt doomed to follow through, come what "You shouldn't be here, Bert."
"Don't fret, Anita. I understand. We're only human, right? Our bodies heat up, and we need to cool it down. If you knew how many times a week I have to beat my meat to get down."
Bert could not have said anything more on target to defuse Anita's panic. For one thing, he did not mock her, look shocked, or do anything crazy. He recognized instead that masturbation was only human, and he admitted also to the practice of self abuse.
"Is that what you call it? Beat your meat?" She had to smile.
He, too, smiled reassuringly. His face was gentle, brotherly, almost saintly, for he was presenting himself as a cousin, not a lowlife seducer.
"It's tough to be young and full of desires. You have them, and I have them. That's how nature designed us."
Anita's fright by now had fled, and she found the scene provocative. Also, she couldn't help but notice the immense bulge in his pants, and she wondered if Bert had a cock like the one she had just admired in the mag.
Her own body, she was aware, was not completely covered, and she felt shameless vanity about the beauty of her figure. She was stacked-it was the truth in the mirror.
It was sinister, actually, to be naked, under the cover, and in the room with Bert, for she had secret lusts that she didn't acknowledge, but which now flooded over her.
"Here," He offered her a lighted joint.
She took it and inhaled, feeling grown up suddenly. At school, kids smoked grass, and she had, on occasion joined them.
She liked to be high, and doing it with Bert somehow made her feel close to him.
"Isn't it a shame that we get sexy feelings, and have to get rid of them in such a lonely way?" Bert again passed her the joint.
Lonely way! It jolted her, this comment of his, for it hit a real truth. When you toyed with yourself, you were alone, a reason it was called the solitary vice. Yet you did picture someone in your head. The one you wanted to be with-because sex was a coupling and not a solitary experience.
Anita was very bright, and figured this out. While stroking her pussy, she had played with two images in her mind, one of the blond Adonis in the mag, the other of Bert.
Now she felt both fear and excitement, because this was a tight situation, both of them being real together, frankly admitting they stroked themselves to gratify the desires of the flesh. And now, they were together building a high on grass, and she sensed that the huge bulge in his pants would drive him toward her pussy.
She felt both fascinated and frightened, and the naughtiest impulses were unleashed by the erotic pictures, and the grass.
What would he do, she wondered? She was, after all, a virgin. Would he assault her virginity? Her flesh craved his touch, she had to admit.
He smiled at her, somehow tuned into her erotic feelings, and gently moved even closer on the bed as he passed her the joint. She fluttered a bit at his nearness, but did not edge off.
Her nerves seemed marvelously strung out, and she felt exquisitely sensual, so that even a look at the shape or his cock, swollen in his pants, made thrilling tingles in her cunt.
So that when he let his hand fall on her thigh, while chatting, she didn't travel into a tizzy.
"I'm so glad, Anita, that you have come to live with us."
"Not half as glad as me. When Mother died, I really freaked out. I felt so lost. It's not an easy thing for a girl my age to be alone."
"Oh, Dad thought instantly of bringing you here, It sure made me happy. I didn't know how you had grown. I thought of you as a skinny kid with pigtails." He stared at her enchanting face, with the sea-green eyes, blond hair, the exquisitely molded white shoulders, the pink-nippled breasts, the pink slit of her pussy with its downy golden hair that he had glimpsed before she could cover up.
"You really grew up in a hurry," he said, finding it hard to conceal his lust.
This lust! so visible in his eyes, really ticked Anita off. She wanted to be touched, she wanted to be kissed, she wanted him doing indecent things to her. For somehow, since she had seen the erotic pictures, her innocence had slipped away.
"I think you are trying to have me grow up faster." Her eye went to his hand on her thigh.
He smiled, devilishly charming, and rubbed her thigh gently, feeling the flesh through the thin cover.
The strain of his swollen cock began to get to him. "I think that you grew up when you looked pictures in my room."
"Oh, they were very naughty pictures, Cousin nice." He had, by this time, pushed aside the coverlet to touch her snowy white, velvety skin.
The touch of her was absolutely pure turn-on, like the touch of silk.
He stroked her thigh again and again as a soft blush appeared on the ivory skin of her face. He knew then that amorous feelings were flowing through her, and that the time had come to strike, now, if ever.
He smiled, then caressed her blushing cheek with his fingertips, then touched her golden hair.
She, too, smiled with all the vanity of a female who had been stroked.
Leaning forward, he planted a light kiss on her lips, the velvet, virginal lips that scarcely knew how to kiss, yet tasted like springtime flowers.
She kept her mouth there, and he felt a surge of lust and his impulse was to grab her hand, put it over his swollen cock, a rash move that would have spelled doom.
An instinct made him slow down, for after all she was fifteen and virginal. There was no hurry. Plenty of time, Bert thought, for Mona would not be home till midnight and the old man was tossing a geisha girl in Tokyo.
The problem was control!
He clenched his teeth, kept a firm rein on his rambunctious cock, for if he stampeded this young virgin, she would go scuttling up the wall.
So he kissed her, opened his mouth to start tongue touching, for he knew, devilish fellow, that virgins focused on kissing. Virgins are for kissing, but, if clever, he could then ease her into daring intimacies.
Bert, at least, dared to think that.
Because tongue touching made her breathe fast, he knew sweet passion was building, so he caressed her shoulder, bringing his hand nearer her breast.
She tightened as he came close to her tit, but, like some master seducer, he kept stroking. Females were like cats, and stroking, Bert felt, paralyzed them with passion. Finally, he put his hand on her tit, and felt the nipple hard and erect and knew it would go easier now.
He kept stroking her tit, then bent suddenly, got his mouth on it, knowing the power of the tongue to launch a girl into the passion pit.
He nuzzled the nipple, then started gentle sucking, pulling at the tit more vigorously, aware that this sucking would reach her on the primitive level.
Suck a tit and the cunt goes wet, thought Bert, that cocksmith without peer.
Her body on the bed slumped suddenly, victim to his touch.
While he sucked her tit, his hand went to her pussy under the cover, to the downy hair and the moistened slit. His cock in his pants had swelled monstrously, so that he had to shift his body. Then he dug in her cunt, wet and warm with his finger, stroking the clit, starting a fire that could be quenched only one way.
Poor Anita, in the clutch of a subtle seducer, was like a bird hypnotized by a snake, for the rush of her sensations, so delicious, so sweet, so delectable, could no longer stop.
His mouth on her tit, his finger in her clit had launched her toward heaven.
She waited with virginal fear and frantic delight for his next move, feeling it would bring her irresistibly toward ecstasy. She would experience soon the same bliss felt by the girls in the torrid pictures. Her body, under the touch of Bert, had become a paradise of pleasure.
Now his strategy was to get her to touch his naked cock, so, while stroking her pussy with one hand, he used his other to unzip his pants, bringing out his cock and balls. Gently he took her hand and put it on his cock.
There was the virginal shock at contact, but he kept her hand there, and curiosity and passion won out, for she stayed there.
He could feel the soft silky palm of her hand enfolding his cock as he worked on her clit to sharpen her passions.
She's a gone goose, he thought delightedly, for there could be no turning back now. They were shot down once you got a cock in their hands, he thought.
He slid under the cover where her pussy lurked and went daringly for the slit. He slid his tongue between her cuntlips, and she let out a deep sigh as his tongue darted over the clit, working in the moist velvet warmth.
She felt herself dissolving with bliss. It all seemed to be working out as she; had just seen it in the dirty magazine, guys eating cunt. Soon he would ask her to do it to him.
Her cunt quivered with marvelous tingles. And the size of his hard cock stupefied her. She dared glance at it quickly, with maidenly modesty, and was appalled at the monstrous size, the huge head, so velvety soft, looking like a helmet with its purple ridge.
He threw off the cover to look at the feast of white loveliness. Her breasts were pink tipped with erect nipples, her stomach was flat, her hips charmingly shaped, and golden maidenhair barely covered the virginal pussy.
She had snowy thighs, well-shaped legs, and lecherously he could imagine them clenched about his back as he fucked.
To bring her to a peak, he worked his tongue vigorously in her wet cunt so that she began to groan and twist.
Then he stopped, and brought his cock up to her face, to her lips.
"Kiss it, honey."
Her green eyes stared at its purple fury, its throbbing size, and she felt its fatal fascination. She brought it to her lips, kissed it gently.
"Open your mouth. Take it in, take it in your mouth." His tone was urgent.
She opened her lips, letting the head enter her warm, moist mouth.
His impulse then was to jam it in, to fuck her mouth violently, but he controlled himself.
"Suck it, Anita. Like a lollipop."
She hadn't the vaguest idea of what to do with it, he realized, just thought that you held the cock in your mouth, and that was that.
"Lick it, like a lollipop. Get your mouth around it, get your tongue under it, and suck it. Give it a great time, darling." He could scarcely recognize his voice, for it went hoarse with passion. Poor Bert, he was really blasted out of his head by what was happening.
He could scarcely believe his fabulous luck, having this luscious young cunt, right now, holding his hot cock in her sweet mouth. Somehow, he had not dreamed it would happen, even though he'd fantasized about it, over and over.
But there, right there, in front of his petrified eyeballs, this delicious dish was actually licking his cock, just as in his wildest erotic dreams.
And the sensation was blowing his mind. For she sort of got interested in the feeling of that thick, muscular fat cock in her mouth, and she felt instinctive drives to lick it, to suck it, to flutter her tongue under it, She thought it the most extraordinary toy that was ever invented, and that Bert was extremely clever to suggest they do this trick.
She just had all sorts of oral rapture, holding his hot cock in her mouth, and she soon developed the most dynamite movements that seemed to rock him down to his spine, for he groaned and moaned when she did things.
I've got tremendous power over him, she thought, sucking it vigorously. Guys love to have their cocks sucked, she figured. It was the-big gun in the sex game.
He had grasped her head, and now was thrusting his cock into her mouth, going for her throat. And she felt he was in the clutch of a tremendous passion.
But he did finally get control, for Bert realized if he roughed her up too much, or selfishly blasted his cum, without taking some care for her, it would be a lousy start.
So he pulled out his red, bruised, throbbing cock, which somewhat disappointed her, for she felt an incompletion, and he pulled off his clothes 'so that he, too, finally, was nude.
She adored the powerful shape of his body. He was athletic, with a hard chest, and built in the Apollo mold.
Seen like this, with his thick, big cock thrust out from his body, he turned her on, and her eyes luxuriated in the sight.
He smiled at her. "Let's fuck, darling."
She bit her lip nervously. And she stared at the size of his stupendous tool. "But you can't get that thing into me. I'm very small. And I'm a virgin."
"Do you want to be a virgin forever?" he demanded.
She smiled. "You're wicked, Cousin Bert."
When she said cousin, a streak of guilt went through him, but he squelched it quickly. What the hell did it matter? All these taboos were obsolete hangovers from the past, before they invented ways to circumvent pregnancy. It was stupid, Bert felt, to be guilty about anything like that. He should instead think of how lucky he was that Anita, because she was his cousin, had fallen into his depraved hands. He would teach her the pleasures of sex, just a little before society thought it proper, so that, in actuality, she would have longer to enjoy the sensual life. It was a favor he was doing her, if you thought about it.
No, it was good that she was his cousin, and he would launch her into the life of sensual love, and do it right. What if some dumb shit got hold of her, and really butchered her virginity. How fortunate for her that she had a clever kid like him, to teach her the great game of sex.
"Let's be wicked together, Anita. It's the nicest game of life."
She laughed. Somehow, she had confidence in Bert, and felt he would never do anything to harm her. Perhaps it was best that he be the one to despoil her of her cherry. He would not be a clumsy oaf, he knew what he was about, and he wouldn't mutilate her. For cherry busting, she knew, could be a bloody business.
"Yes, let's be wicked. But try not to hurt me, Cousin Bert." And again she looked with fear at this super-size cock, all red, and fiercely ready for combat.
He put his cock next to her passion slit and edged it in slightly, feeling the tender warmth and moisture. He knew she was tight, as any virgin is, for when he put his finger in, the tightness was quite apparent.
He pushed in a bit and she winced a bit, probed by the thick size of his flesh.
"Don't expect it not to hurt any. But there will be pleasure with the hurt," he told her.
And he bent forward to kiss her sweet, tender mouth, while he pushed again gently into the warm interior of her cunt, fighting his impulse to thrust it all the way. Somehow, the impulse came to males, he thought, as if the only way was to crash through. Maybe that's how nature intended for guys to take girls, he thought.
Anyway, he now snuggled his cock into the luscious cavern of her cunt, and she, too, twisted a bit, trying to ease it into the tight little nook. It hurt her, for she felt as if a huge salami was getting stuffed into her pussy, and yet, with the hurt was a touch of heaven, for all sorts of sweet tingles came off the sides of her cunt.
He then went down to her tits, and pulled on them, to give her sexual feelings so that the pain that would shortly hit her, when he crashed through the barrier, would not be all that focused.
By this time he had got half his cock into her but half the muscular shaft was still greedy to dive.
So he began to force and force, and his cock, iron hard, pushed at the hymen until finally he felt the breakthrough and her wetness, then felt his shaft sink all the way to the hilt!
Somehow he had got his great cock into this delicious, lovely body. Her eyes were moist with tears of pain and pleasure. Tears for her departed virginity, pleasure because this delicious intruder of flesh and muscle sent ecstasies quivering through her cunt.
Bert felt her cunt like a fiercely closed fist around his cock, and the sensation blew his mind. He grabbed her butt, her white firm mounds, pulled his tool out gently, then sank it again to the utmost depth.
He did it again and again gently, and it was then that she got the mingled tingles of pleasure with the pain, finding it delicious beyond anything in her experience.
How nice Bert was, she thought, not to tatter her with beastly thrusts, violent movements that could destroy her!
He arched his ass and drove in, easy and velvety, delighted by the tight cunt on his cock and the gleam of pleasure in her eyes. She was turning on to the fuck. That pleased Bert, for he wanted it to be a big blast for her, the first time.
His finger found the button in her tail, and he jiggled the nerves gently as he slid his tool in and out of the torrid cunt. Its tightness around his cock was just about to rocket him off.
He grabbed her, started to fuck fiercely, thrusting and thrusting, feeling the juice flow thru the pipe of his cock, swelling it enormously as it spurted into her.
She jumped at the impact as the cream slammed into the depths of her pussy, and the muscles of her cunt sucked on his cock, squeezing out all the juice.
Though she did not reach an orgasm, she felt delicious sensations as her cunt swallowed his spunk, and luscious tingles spread through all the nerves of her body.
When finally he pulled out his cock she felt a terrible emptiness. It belongs in there, she thought.
She looked at the cock as it came out, all beat, for she had taken the fire and fury from it. And it looked mostly red with her virgin blood.
She had lost her cherry, but now she was ready for pleasure.
Chapter Two
They were sitting now in the kitchen, eating some creamed chicken found in the fridge. Anita, all bathed and beautiful, was wearing her shirt and tight jeans.
And Bert, staring at her tight jeans, kept thinking of what a joy it would be to get into them again before the night was over. That was the pleasure of having a cousin under your roof; you had sex in the house. You didn't have to go scrambling for it in the singles bars.
He shoveled down a lot of chicken, because sex left him famished. He kept looking at her tender mouth, hardly able to believe that just an hour ago she'd had it around his swollen cock. She still looked virginal, and probably would look like that for years to come. It was not only her tender age, but the white purity of her skin, the oval beauty of her face.
"How do you feel? Now that your cherry is gone?"
She thought about it, "Well, Bert, it had to go sometime. Why not here? Why not you?"
He laughed. She had a helluva lot of good sense, especially for a fifteen-year-old kid. He congratulated himself that she was not all red-eyed and revoltingly guilty about losing her cherry. Nowadays, to be a virgin was to be a Victorian idiot.
"We're just beginning, honey. There's a lot of games we can play."
"What do you mean?" She was very curious about the evils of sex. For some reason, she thought of sex mostly as the male organ penetrating the female organ, mostly for purposes of having kids. Cock-sucking seemed to her at first like a strange game, but it had become juicy and joyous. And when Bert had stuck his tongue into her pussy, she had almost done somersaults.
"Sex is the greatest game in the world," he told her, "And after dinner, well pick up where we left off."
She looked eager. "Will we fuck again?"
He laughed. "Fucking is the most beautiful game in the world."
He got out the wine, some of the costlier stuff, just to celebrate, and they sipped it.
"Where's Mona?" she asked.
"She's over at Vera's." He sipped the wine, thinking of how often Mona went to Vera's, as if they had a thing with each other. Sometimes, he wondered whether Mona did turn both ways. She probably didn't care where the sex came from. He licked his lips, thinking of Mona, that super-cunt. If only he didn't feel all that guilt about Arnold, he would stab her with cock someday, he thought.
"But what if Mona comes back too early?" Anita asked anxiously. She wasn't crazy about an interruption from Mona, if she happened to be sucking Bert's hot cock at the time.
"Oh, forget about Mona. She's always late."
They drank more wine, got a bit tipsy, and went back to her bedroom, where, instantly, he jerked down her jeans and panties, and started to lick her cunt.
He did it so quickly it stunned her, and she watched him with immense pleasure as he stuck his tongue into her, as if it were a cock, stabbing her clit, over and over.
Suddenly, it happened, a heavenly orgasm, her first with him! Her vulva vibrated, then sent out a great wave of pleasure to all the nerves of her body. She went almost limp.
Bert was delighted that he had knocked her off that easily, and shoved his monstrous cock at her mouth. She took it eagerly, for she had learned to love that hot meat in her mouth now. And she gave it a fine working over.
Then he pulled it from her, turned her so that her shapely tail faced his cock.
She glanced back at him. "What is it?"
"I'm going to ram this thing up your ass," he said gleefully.
She stared at him with disbelief. "That huge thing! In my dainty ass! No way!"
"Oh, yes. Just relax, leave it to me.
She shook her head. "No, you'll rip me apart. I have a tiny tail."
He grinned diabolically. "A tiny tail means a terrific ass fuck."
He got some grease, and slipped it on the head of his red, rambunctious cock, then put some on his finger, and slipped it into her tail.
"Oh, you've got a sweet asshole, Anita!"
Although it tickled her to hear her tail lauded, she loathed the idea of his stuffing that huge salami into her. It put the fear of destruction in her soul. "No, no. You can't stick that horrible monster in my tiny ass, Bert. It will destroy me."
"Oh shut up, and bend over!"
He was demonic now, for the desire had seized him to stuff his cock up her ass. It was a piece of Jack the Ripper in him, he thought.
He grabbed her white curved butt, spread the cheeks, and pointed his prick at the target-the notched little hole, the sweet little rosebud. He tried to slide in. He had to wriggle a bit before he opened it. And he felt that tightness about his head, and knew that he had to drive in, no matter what.
Of course, he could try to ram it, but she'd go through the ceiling, so he fought to control his brutal impulses. I'm going to crack this crack if it takes all night, he swore to himself. He seemed obsessed suddenly about getting into her tail, up to the hilt.
But she was moaning a little, trying to keep him off, yet, at the same time craving his doing it. Why? Curiosity perhaps, a desire to know what it felt like to be fucked in the ass? Or maybe it was a desire just to submit, for after all, she was only fifteen!
He wiggled his cock, pushing it, aware of the tightness of her tail. There was a ring of flesh now around his cock, and he kept pushing, and she kept groaning and protesting, but he pushed relentlessly.
He aimed to fuck her ass, that was the twist, and somehow, he felt that once he had done that, he would have her a love slave forever! He kept thrusting in, slowly, but firmly, and once he got past the tight ring, it seemed to be going great.
He glanced down, and could see at least half of his cock had got in her. The tightness of her ass was unbelievably exciting. The warmth and the moisture, and the feeling of a clenched fist around his thick, hard cock gave him ecstasy tingles.
"Don't do it anymore, please, Bert. It hurts."
"Shut up, you little bitch. You'll love it, the moment I get all the way in."
She was shocked when he called her bitch, and realized that he had zoomed to such a pitch of passion that he couldn't think of stopping. She felt all mixed up about it. She liked it for him to go crazy over her body, but she still didn't want him to put her down, calling her a bitch. She hated that, yet some part of her found it interesting. She liked him bossing her, dominating her. It gave her a good feeling. It seemed right that the male should be the master and the woman his slave.
Still, she liked it when he went down on her and licked her cunt. Then, he was her love slave. It was all mixed up.
His cock now had got further in the target and was building a tumult there, for the hard, hot meat was rubbing on the nerves in her ass, and it rippled off a lot of pleasure.
She began to find him interesting back there, to her astonishment, and waited for him to sink his shaft still deeper into her tail.
As for Bert, his cock was sending him a flood of great sensations, and he could tell from her trembling body that she craved the violation, that she wanted him now to drive all the way in.
And so, he thrust it deep in, so that his shaft was buried to the hilt, and his balls hit up against the cheeks of her ass.
He had made it! And she hadn't done a thing, just sighed. She was feeling a huge slab of salami stuck up her ass, and it paralyzed her with happiness. She loved the huge stack of flesh in her asshole, she just adored the feeling it gave her. She wanted him to slide that monster now, in and out of her, to puncture her with it.
She turned, looking at him over her shoulder, her green eyes loaded with lust. "Fuck me, Bert, fuck my ass off!"
He almost went out of his head hearing those words. "Yeah, honey, I'm going to fuck your ass right off."
And he began to, drive, and drive, like a possessed demon, shoving his cock into her depths, pulling it all the way out, then ramming it in, so that his balls bounced off the cheeks of her ass. It was a phenomenal, fabulous job of fucking, and he found the pleasure almost intolerable, grabbing at her breasts, holding them for leverage, while he arched his ass and jammed his cock in. Into the tightest hole he could imagine, his cock squeezed tightly against the velvety soft, moist anus.
Anita, now aware of his rhythm, tightened the muscles of her ass, so that his cock was squeezed into a joyous ride that suddenly went rioting off in a great spasm of cum, and the juices gushed into her tail, one spurt after another, while she whimpered with delight.
He held hard to her tits, with his cock jammed up all the way, so that they looked merged together, his hard male body against her white shapely female body.
Then, exhausted by his drives, he pushed forward, and slumped over her.
A little while later, he said, "That was a great fuck, Anita. You got a lot of talent."
She shrugged. "I didn't do anything."
He stared. "It was your asshole, honey. The sweetest ass this side of heaven."
Chapter Three
And so Bert Jones initiated his beautiful cousin Anita into the shameless joys of fornication, and some delectable variations on the theme of sex.
She turned out to be a talented pupil, with a zest for all the tricks of the bedroom, so that Bert found a suitable target for his prodigious pecker. If he woke with a hard, he figured it would be just a question of time for him to sink his shaft, and therefore find relief.
As for Anita, she found fucking one of the seven wonders of the world, and the more she got the more she craved it. Her body was sensitized to sex! and she would shiver with ecstasy when Bert stole into her bedroom, late at night, so that nobody would be wiser. The only thing that discouraged Anita about sex, was Bert's lack of durability, for it seemed when he lost his hard, his passion zoomed down. Whereas, hers zoomed up, and her cunt was always in a lather to get lapped. The more that she did it, the more she delighted to do it.
It was quite a shock for Bert to discover that this fifteen-year-old kid had more lust for sex than he did, and he confided one day to his jock friend, Sid, at school after baseball practice.
"She's crazy about cock," Bert said to Sid, over at the Pub where they had gone for beers.
"Show me a woman who isn't," Sid said, toying with his drink, secretly envying his friend. He had of course met Anita several times, and that face and shape put the lust into him. He pictured in his mind what great bedroom bawdy fun Bert was having with his cousin, and jealousy seared his "Women have it easy," said Bert. "They don't have to erect."
"Yeah. They got the cunt, and it's always there. They don't have to prove a thing."
"Is she wearing you out, Bert?" Sid grinned.
"No, but I'm just impressed with her appetite for sex."
"If you weren't so selfish, perhaps we could gratify that appetite together," Sid said slyly.
Bert stared at him, and his mind streaked out to Sid's mother, Vera, who he felt sure had been looking at him lately with a speculative eye. He figured there might come a day when he might surrender to that sexy strumpet, and then he could cancel it out, if he brought Sid into Anita's world of sex.
"You lowlife sodomist," he said smilingly. "Do I understand you are proposing that we have a sex trio, an orgy with my cousin, Anita?"
Sid contemplated the idea with delight, but he played it cool. "Orgy with Anita. It would make a great dirty movie title." He ordered another couple of beers. "Look at it this way. You're increasing her sex know-how. It's good for a growing kid to check out another beautiful male body."
Bert smiled. Why not? He had no private ownership of Cousin Anita, and she might find it a new game. Sometimes two is company, and three is a party. It could be a few extra kicks. Might be a bit kinky, too, the two of them with the kid. Teach her the sinister pleasures of multiple sex.
He thought that there could be no time like the present, because his father, Arnold, was now over in the Mid-East, bribing some Arab to buy airplanes from his company.
And Mona, as usual, would be out pussycatting around till midnight. They would have about three hours for a bit of debauchery in Anita's room.
"Get in the car," he told Sid.
Sid stared at him, and grinned. "You're a real buddy."
"Just think of that when the right time comes," he said.
He was thinking of Vera, but Sid just frowned, unable to make sense of it.
They found Anita in her robe, for she had just taken a bath and was now studying her math, enjoyed math, especially her math teacher, Wilkens, a lanky, forty-year-old lecher, who had a strange hang-up for young girls. Mr. Wilkens told her that she had a fine mathematical mind, and told himself that she had a great body for bondage. He liked a little light bondage, a secret he carried in his lewd mind, and he had vague dreamy yearnings for Anita's creamy breasts.
Anita was thinking of Mr. Wilkens, and the strange lust in his eyes when he talked to her, just at the time that Bert appeared with Sid.
They looked a bit freaky, and smelled of beer.
"She looks cold sober," Bert said to Sid.
"Yes, and we ought to change all that."
Bert brought over the Jack Daniels, and poured three heavy drinks.
"Here, you young hussy. This is for being a beautiful girl."
She smiled at him. "I think you boys are drunk."
"That's why we'd like you to join us."
She glanced over at Sid, "With what object in mind?"
Bert grinned. "Sin. Is there any other object?"
"Sin. You have a hang-up on sin, Bert. You're a bawdy fella."
She sipped the drink, and looked at her math book, then at Sid. He was eighteen, and one of the school jocks, just like Bert, his close friend. A bit taller than Bert, but still very athletic, a handball player and pitcher on the baseball team, with rugged features, like Bert. They could almost be brothers, except for the fact that they got along, and brothers seldom did. Of course, Sid tried, in the fun bag, to shoot Bert down, just to get an edge on him. He had, she suspected, a touch of the sadist in him. She had once toyed in her mind with the idea of a quick sex shot with him, and the picture was torrid.
She sipped more of the? bourbon, feeling its slow glow through her body. She thought, too of her math teacher and wondered if she should continue working on her algebra, for she liked Mr. Wilkens, felt a strange urge to fit into his fantasy life, whatever made him look at her so weirdly.
Anita had become very sophisticated about sex, and the more experience she got, the more she wanted to push the fringes of it a bit further, thinking that sex was a world whose edges could be pushed out, if you were daring.
Oh, she found Bert absolutely delightful, and loved it when he got horny, and crept into her bed with his thick, trusty cock, looking for a hot mouth or hot cunt to lose it in. She could always come up with that, for she had discovered that her awakening to sex had roused a sleeping monster.
She felt almost insatiable about it, and it really disappointed her when Bert, after his violent thrusting with his heavy dick, would swiftly shoot his juices, then, with shrunken cock, steal silently off to his own bed for snoring.
Anita, on the other hand, was just beginning to zoom up, craving more and more orgasms. She felt regret that she couldn't nail Bert down for longer sex sessions, and when she had tried, found that his pecker had just petered out, and that nothing but time could restore it.
She wondered if she was sexually juiced up more than he, or if he was lust limited. She suspected that she had an avaricious taste for sex, and that it was going to take more than one mere male to bring her satisfaction. Her mind, therefore, dared to play with pictures of herself with more than one male, as she had seen in the dirty magazine.
Once, she had talked on the edge of the subject with Bert.
"Do you think that women are sexier than guys, Bert?"
He knew that she liked to fuck forever, and so he shrugged.
"Girls can go on forever, but guys just run out juice."
"That's unfair, then," she said. "Why can't guys go on forever, like girls? Nature gave girls a raw deal."
"Are you complaining about my service, Miss?" He was heavily sarcastic.
"No. I love your cock, Bert. And that's it. I want more of it." She looked away. "But sometimes, it just runs down."
He bit his lip, vexed. No matter what you did, you couldn't truly satisfy a woman even if she was fifteen! He was pissed off. At that moment, the thought started to grow that he might just bring Sid into the picture, to see if together they could satisfy this flesh eater, this Gorgon of desire, this man-eating adolescent.
So, there they were all together now, drinking, and aware that within a short time a three-way sex game could well be in the works.
Chapter Four
They had been drinking for about half an hour, and the booze was beginning to saturate their bodies and their moral senses. And because they were young, lustful brutes, the juices were jumping in their genitals.
Sid had a fierce hard the moment he sighted this tender piece of pussy in her robe, for the silky thing showed the contours of her sexy shape, letting the nips print out against the silk. Her mouth was sensuous and full, and she had those green eyes that seemed to him to smolder with all the mystery of sex.
"Super cunt," he thought to himself, again with envy that Bert had a piece like her locked under his roof, to indulge his desire whenever it hit him. Also, he got the impact of an intense sensuality flowing from her, something new added to her since Bert had awakened the sleeping lust in her Then Sid thought of Mona, and he said. "Hey, won't Mona be coming home?"
Bert scowled at him. "Mona is out. Maybe for the night."
"On a mystery trip?" grinned Sid. And he thought of Mona's delicious figure, and the most depraved feelings hit him, for he had a terrific letch for Bert's stepmother.
And Bert sensed this in Sid, and it pissed him off, for his own feelings about her also were indecent.
"You oversexed bastard. Always leeching." he said.
Anita turned to look more closely at Sid. He looked rugged and potent, of course, just like Bert, and she wondered why he was called "oversexed." She thought of herself as oversexed, and the idea of someone on her peak, who could perform like her, was quite intriguing. Was it true or just an epithet, the way guys talked to each other? And also, Anita was pissed at the mention of Mona, as if she were the big sex target. Little boys like older women, she thought disdainfully. Already, she felt more mature than either of these two studs, in spite of their age.
Sexually, a girl is ageless, but a boy is a boy until he becomes a man, she thought.
She stared at Sid's jeans, for her radar on cock always worked, and she could see him In a state of enlargement. He had a huge hard, and since he was bigger than Bert, would therefore have a bigger cock. She lusted now to see it.
She stood up, letting her robe open a bit so that part of her tit showed, then walked to the bookshelf to put away her math text.
The guys watched her with glittering eyes, and when she turned around, Bert met her halfway, put his arms around her, kissed her.
It triggered her passions, which had been simmering, and she put her arms around him, kissing him back. Their tongues touched like scorched snakes. He pressed her to him. She leaned her body into his, while one hand pulled at the robe, pulling it off her, so that it dropped off the top of her body, unveiling her lovely pink-nippled breasts.
His hand went to her tit, and he held the nipple, still kissing her, turning her into high, his hand caressing her breast.
Sid stared in amazement at the lovely white figure, deliciously shaped, and his cock turned into iron. His impulse was instantly to jump up and join them, but he controlled it, aware that it would be wrong timing. You couldn't overwhelm the kid, just when she was starting to turn on. A bit later, when the juices were flowing strong, nothing would stop them!
He watched Bert go down to her tit, get his mouth on it, and start sucking, and sucking hungrily, trying to get the whole tit in his mouth.
She sighed, threw her head back, in the clutch of the heavy flow of sensations. It was unbelievable how fast her body now turned on when Bert just touched it, especially when he got to her tits. She felt herself going into jelly, and her body joyously waited now for every touch, for violation. She craved the male, whatever he wanted to do with her body. It had become ready for sexual assault.
She was obscurely delighted that Sid was there, for she felt so turned on, that poor Bert could never quench the lusts that raged through her body, and part of her wanted Sid to touch her.
Bert, aware that her body was sizzling, pulled down the rest of the robe, so that she was entirely nude, her shapely ass driving poor Sid goggle-eyed.
"Let's all strip," Bert said, nonchalantly.
Within moments, they were naked as jays, and Anita could do nothing but stare at the two great pricks pointed at her, the delectable target.
She was impressed by Sid's splendid shaft, all muscular and red with lust. It seemed bigger than that beautiful monster of Bert's, but not much bigger.
Her throat ached for it, and when they positioned themselves in bed, she took hold of his cock, and brought it to her lips to kiss it.
Meanwhile, Bert went down to her blond pussy, and began to poke his tongue at her passion slit, unleashing a gust of excitement.
Without a moment of hesitation, she grabbed Sid's massive cock, and started to lick it, along the length, down to the balls, then took the head of it into her mouth, her tongue starting to around it!
Sid gaped at her, stunned at her boldness, at the way she began to work his cock like a professional hooker, and it launched him into hots he had never known before.
Down at her cunt, Bert was lashing it with his tongue, parting the velvety lips, so that he could plunge his tongue deeper, working at the clit.
Whatever be was doing seemed to electrify Anita, for she began to suck on his cock ferociously, even giving it little bites, her tongue going into the frantics, then going down to his balls, licking each at a time, getting each into her mouth. Then back to the head, sucking fiercely while she held his balls.
And Bert working fiercely at her cunt, all combined to force poor Sid to lose all control, and he found himself shoving his cock into her mouth, hard, because he could feel his gism flowing through his stem, the swelling of his cock, going gigantic in her mouth, and then the juices pouring into her mouth.
She kept her lips firm about his cock; squeezing his balls, as if wanting all the gism that he had and swallowing each drop of it. He could see the movements of her throat as she gulped the juices out of his cock.
He shivered with the pleasure of it, the dynamite sensation and the visual sight of it. She's a super cocksucker, he thought, amazed that she had learned all this from Bert.
Now that she had dispatched Sid her focus went on Bert, for she pulled him up over the white, shapely body, so that his cock was between her thighs, and she pointed his cock at her throbbing cunt.
The hunger in her cunt was a rage, a fire that had to be satisfied. Bert slipped his thick dick into the depths of her cunt, and started to drive. He was himself violently turned on by the fire in her cunt, and the whole scene, for he had seen her mouth working on Sid's cock, and it was a terrific visual.
He twisted and turned and drove his cock into her, trying to hit bottom, riding the clit, arching his ass, trying to knock her cunt into seventh heaven.
And she whimpered, she groaned, she moaned, and she grabbed his butt, pushing him deep as he could go into her, then feeling the orgasm start, the quivering in her vulva, the vibrating, and then the agonizing high, the rising to the peak, and then the nerves through her whole body turned on, like some electric flow!
It was the best orgasm that she'd ever had, and it seemed to have been reached by two guys going crazy on her! She lay back on the bed, lost in the flow of her feelings, amazed that sex could be such a tremendous turn-on. It was true that two is company, and three is a party, she thought.
It's a beautiful game, this sex thing, Anita thought, and she felt joy that she had a long jaunt of sex ahead for her, since her age was only fifteen, going on sixteen.
They all lay together now on the bed, the guys on either side of Anita, and they still felt bawdy, for the sight of her was so super.
"She's got the greatest mouth for love in the East," said Sid reverently.
"A great cunt, too," said Bert.
She just lay there, gratified that two studs had given her an intense orgasm, wondering how long it would take for them to revive, so they could start the game again. Her body really lusted for violation, and while she felt in the low wave, for the moment, she knew it wouldn't take much to swing her up, back to the craving again to be violated by cock.
She sensed that if only one guy had been there, she might be well unsatisfied, for after Sid blasted, he'd be no good. She needed him to bring her into a high which Bert was able to knock off, with his fuck.
I guess I must be a nymph, she thought, slightly appalled, but ready to face the fact of her life. Maybe I need an older male, she considered, and the thought of Mr. Wilkens again slipped into her mind. She suspected that he knew some tricks far beyond the limits of these young studs.
It was curious that she felt so superior to them, in spite of their age. The cunt is timeless and the cock is young, she put if to herself, smiling.
It made her think more intensely of Mr. Wilkens, and she wondered what wizardry he might have in his bedroom, for that was the aura he had about him.
Bert was annoyed that his Cousin had nothing positive to say to them, pissed off that they ha dumped some applause on. her, and all she did was eat it up.
"Did you like it, little pussy?" She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He was like a little puppy who had to be patted for good work. She began to think more and more that she had to find herself the more mature male, a guy with real cool. She just had a natural sophistication that seemed to grow each day. Amusingly, she thought that soon she'd be ready for a guy like x Uncle Arnold himself, around age forty. And the thought sent a shaft of lust to her cunt.
I'm a shameless slut, she thought, amused, but without guilt. In her mind, she had decided that the game of sex was a pleasure jaunt, and that the partner should never be a hang-up.
"I didn't hear you," Bert persisted, angry about the far-off gleam in her eye. He felt that in spite of her age, she was swinging far past him, and it didn't make him crazy about it. He had started with a tender girl with baby fat, almost, and she had turned into a bawdy strumpet, a carnivorous cunt.
She was moving out of his orbit, and he wondered if she'd lose interest in his cock. He felt madly jealous, but helpless about it. She was swinging on a trip of her own.
He had released a monster inside the sweet tender girl at the moment he had busted her cherry. You rubbed a little lamp, and a giant ogre came out. In a way, that was what had happened to this sweet young thing.
He turned to look at her, at her sweet oval face, her pink nipples, surprisingly still erect, a clue to the fact that she had a permanent fire seething inside her cunt.
"Anita can fuck till the cows come home!" he said to Sid.
Sid grinned. "Well, I've got another shot in me. So any time Anita gets an appetite up, I'll be up, too."
Anita gave him a warm smile, pleased that his recovery powers were good.
"The trouble is, guys go off too quick," she said. "If you could hang on longer, perhaps it would go better."
"See, the bitch is criticizing us," Bet complained.
"Girls are natural bitches," said Sid.
"Just as guys are natural bastards."
"That's why they fuck each other," Bert grinned.
She gazed at him. "Do you think fucking is a way to let off violence?"
Bert nodded. "There's violence in the act of fucking. No question in my mind. Like nature meant for guys to assault the female, and make sure of propagation. Suppose a girl didn't care for fucking, then the race would die out. Nature took care of that. She planted the urge to rape in the male, to make sure the race goes on, no matter what the female feel."
"You really got a point, there," said Sid.
"I always sense violence in fucking," Anita said. "Bert can be gentle, at the beginning, but underneath there is his frantic urge to bury his cock in me. The very sight of the cock is violence, if you think of it. Nothing gentle about the way it looks. All swelled up, in a rage, throbbing, hell bent to dig into a warm, moist place."
"The cunt honey, you mean the cunt."
"Yes, the cunt, if you must be vulgar."
Bert bent down to kiss it. "Vulgar cunt, born to be violated."
She bent down to kiss his cock. "Vulgar cock, born for rape."
Bert felt his cock start to swell. "You could suck my vulgar cock a bit, Anita."
She glanced down at the meat beginning to thicken under her very gaze, and leaning forward, put the lustful brute into her mouth, fluttering her tongue under it in the clever style that she had learned made the male a ferocious thing.
And a glimpse at Sid's cock told her he was tumescing, so she reached out to grasp it in her palm and pull on it.
Then! clever girl, aware that Bert had just enough for oral fun, but that Sid had enough hard to do the real damage, she got on her knees between Bert's thighs, and pulled Sid so that he would be behind her arched ass.
It was clear that Anita wanted to be humped in her ass while she gave Bert a thumping with her mouth.
And Sid, looking at the two creamy mounds and the notched hole between them, was frantically eager to comply. He had never before put his passion stick in a girl's tail, and his cock was fiercely ready for the experience. He looked down at its huge ferocious redness, and at the tiny hole that he was supposed to pierce, and shook his head.
He looked at Anita's mouth working on Bert's swollen cock, and lust grabbed him. He parted her cheeks, put his cock to her back slit and pushed. It was tight, but he could, amazingly enough, pierce it, get it. He snuggled forward a bit, and felt the ring of muscle there and waited. He felt that if he forced too fast, he would paralyze her with prick.
Then he pushed more of his cock in, holding hard to her ass mounds, beautifully shaped creamy cheeks, and then he pushed again, getting even more in. The tightness of her asshole grabbing his cock was pure ecstasy. He had to pause, or surely he would have blown his load. And so, he waited again, meanwhile watching her do her great blowjob on Bert's thick, red cock.
That turned him on so much, that now he yelled Geronimo! in his head, and plunged in all the way!
To the hilt, so that his cock was entirely in her!
Wow!
There was something so super about the feeling of having his cock totally buried in that warm, moist hole with his balls against the cheeks of her ass, that it really blew his mind. He just stayed like that for a while, his eyes feasting on the sight of the beautiful blowjob.
Then he began to move his cock, pulling it out as far as he could, then sliding it back in to the depths again. It seemed to do something tremendous to Anita, for she worked her mouth more dynamically on Bert's thick cock.
What a turn-on it was, as he started now to drive in her, coming out and driving in, holding her ass firmly in his great hands. He even slid his hands down, to cup her breasts, when he drove all the way in. He felt really a part of her body at the times he was up to the hilt.
It was a dynamite turn-on for him, and as the juice began to flow through his cock, so that it started its swelling, he drove fiercely in and out, with immense force, for he was blasting his cum now into her tail.
It spurted out of his cock and into her asshole, the hot cream hitting her hot tail, starting her orgasm, and she in turn now sucked so hard, jerking Bert's cock with her hand, that he too blasted his cock, pouring the juice into her mouth. She kept her mouth firm about his tool as the cream poured into her, swallowing every drop.
Her own orgasm went off like a giant electric impulse turned on, and the nerves of pleasure through her whole body vibrated and vibrated, a devastating dynamite sensation.
For several minutes they held the tableau of Sid, still with his cock up Anita's ass, and Bert, with his subsiding tool in her mouth.
Then they fell away from each other, slumping onto the bed in varied positions, each exquisitely exhausted, for they had come down from the mountain.
It was an unbelievable blowjob, thought Bert.
She must have the greatest ass in the West, thought Sid.
If two guys can give me such pleasure, imagine what three guys can do, thought Anita.
Then she thought, if there is any game more fun than sex, I'll never know what it is!
And she was still fifteen.
Chapter Five
About a week after this, Bert was driving in his MG past Sid's house on the outer edge of town, a big, elegant house left to Vera Duneray, Sid's mother, by her rich husband. On impulse Bert decided to drop in for a visit with Sid and take him to the Pub for a couple of beers.
Vera met Bert at the door and told him that Sid had gone with his cousin out to Montauk for some fishing and wouldn't be back till midnight, perhaps even till morning.
Vera had a martini in her hand and looked very gay. In fact, she looked looped to Bert. She wore a tight striped blue body shirt that tightly caressed her big tits, showing the nipples very clearly, and a pair of slacks that fit the hips like her skin. In the background, he could hear a record of her singing. She had been a famous vocalist years back and had a rack of hit records from those days.
"I'm playing some of my old records," she "Come in, have a drink with me."
Bert studied Vera's tits and turned on. Frankly, he thought it a bit dangerous for a depraved stud like him to be close to Sid's mother, for he just might slip, and then things could be untidy with his good friend.
Vera scowled at him because he hesitated. "I think you are afraid of me, aren't you, Bert?"
That ticked him off, for it wasn't fear of her but of himself that made him pause; but now he shrugged and walked in.
"Why be afraid of anything?" he said.
She smiled at him brilliantly, showing her capped teeth, and led him into the big living room.
"I like to hear you say that, Bert. Actually, you don't impress me as one of the timid kids of this generation. I'm glad you're a friend of Sid's. I think you could teach him some important things. What are you drinking?"
"Martini on the rocks. Gin."
She grinned. "I'm drinking that, too, Bert." She walked a bit unsteadily to the bar with its huge line up of bottles and fixed two drinks, another for herself. He studied her figure as she stood there, a fabulous ass, curved just right, with a slender waist.
What an ass to fuck, he thought, feeling a tingle in his cock.
He guessed Vera to be about thirty-eight, a woman in her prime who'd made quite a rep in her day, belting out the sweet kind of music that people like his old man and Mona liked to hear.
When her style of singing went out of fashion, she married Sid's father, a wealthy manufacturer, just to make sure of security in her declining years. She was a bit on the sluttish side and gave her husband a violent time in the bedroom. That, combined with the pressures of business, gave him a massive coronary and launched him out of this world, leaving her a widow and poor Sid fatherless.
They'd sold the business for a huge sum of money and had lived comfortably on investments since.
Vera found herself fearfully bored, and with her intense sex drive, heavily frustrated. She made secret jaunts to the city and liked the taste of gin.
She also had a secret letch for Bert, who she felt could be a stud with great promise.
They sat there together on the sofa, while the records kept playing the tunes that she'd made famous.
Her eyes misted nostalgically as she listened. "Oh, Bert, you don't know how it was in those days! When I used to sing with some of the great bands. I was a princess, then, Bert. They loved me wherever I went."
Bert thought she was pretty high, and sentimental about the past. "Well, it must have been easy to love you Mrs. Duneray."
"For God's sake, call me Vera." And she turned to give him a quick peck on his cheek. "I wish you wouldn't think of me as Sid's dignified mother."
"Well, you are, after all. Anyway, how would you want me to think of you, Vera?"
His eyes kept slipping down to her big tits, their nipples peeping out, and he guzzled his drink fast.
"You keep thinking of me as a mother. I'm a woman, Bert. You can see that."
"I sure can, Vera," he said, his eyes staring again at her tits.
She was amused at his vulnerability to tit, and realized that another heavy martini could have this stud sucking at her nipples. She thought it would be good clean fun to nail Bert, for she felt real horny. She glanced at his jeans, and could see the outline of a fine cock. She felt wet in her groin and got up then, to fix another pair of martinis.
"Listen to this record," she said, as a new one dropped on the player. "The country went crazy about it. I am so sorry I stopped singing, Bert You have no idea of what a sacrifice I made when I stopped my career to have Sid. I wanted a child. After all, I'm a woman. I had to realize myself as a woman, too."
Bert shook his head. She sounded drunk as an owl, and made little sense to him. Except that she kept talking about being a woman, and he had to agree.
The drinking had loosened him, and he had to take a leak, but hated to get up, because his cock had got hard!
Staring at her tits pushing out at him, he wondered what it would be like get a tit like that in his mouth, a real woman's tit, not a young thing like Anita's. What would it be like to fuck a woman built so voluptuously, with big hips and a slender waist, and a sweet ass like hers.
It seemed to him that if he leaned out and put his hand on her breast, she would pull off her shirt and shove her tit in his mouth. She looked plenty horny, and he always felt that she craved getting into his pants.
She kept babbling about the music of the past, in which he hadn't the smallest interest. He thought anything outside of rock was dead and hated to hear that sweet, sickly sentimental music.
Then she stared right in his eyes. "You know what I like about you, Bert. You aren't afraid like the boys of your generation. You do what you want. You've got guts. You're bold and gutsy. I sometimes wish that Sid were more like that. He puts on a big front, but I hate to say this. Deep down, he's a scared little kid."
Bert had to laugh. He suspected it to be true. For Sid was always into the big man thing as if he had to prove himself a big jock, a big cocksman. If you have it, you don't have to flaunt it, Bert thought.
"Now, for example, Bert. Right now. I know you want to touch me. I can sense that. And I know that you're bold enough to do it."
Jesus, that did it for Bert. He had to make up his mind whether to make a dash for it or reach out for that heavenly hunk of meat, shaped like a grapefruit, with a juicy nipple on top.
He drunk off the rest of his second heavy martini and she took his hand gently and put it on her breast, looking deep into his eyes.
She had brown eyes and they were glittering with excitement. The bulge in his cock had just beat down all her controls, and she pictured that prodigious hunk of meat doing some delicious things to her.
The feel of her big tits undid poor Bert, for his hand instantly slipped under the striped shirt to the flesh beneath, and he felt the erect nipple.
He lifted the shirt, hypnotized by the feeling of the velvety flesh, saw the thick, plump nipple, and with a sigh, dropped his head down and started to suck on it.
From the very beginning, she had known he lusted to suck her tits.
Now that, he finally had his mouth fastened on her tit, it was the start of something big.
She pulled off her shirt, presenting two mighty mounds, and he started wildly to suck on each nipple, going from one to the other, his hands working over the flesh.
Meanwhile, Vera, who couldn't take her eyes off the bulge of his swollen cock, reached down to his zipper.
She pulled his meat out, a thick, red monster, and kissed it quickly. She put her tongue over it, licked the shaft of it, put it into her mouth and worked her tongue on it.
She seemed so hungry for his cock that she almost bit on it, slid it deep into her throat, got hold of his balls with her hand, gently squeezing them while she sucked on his cock.
"Oh, you delicious little boy," she muttered. "Get your clothes off."
And within moments, they were both nude and staring at each other.
Her voluptuous body really blew his mind. The splendid tits, the slightly rounded belly, the shaved cunt with its pouting, hungry pussy lips.
"You got a gorgeous cunt, Vera," he said.
She grinned. "And you've got the most eatable cock." She went down again to sucking it, for that's what she just loved to do, suck young cock.
He watched her for a while, as she gave him a fierce tongue lashing, going down to his balls, vigorously licking them.
She seemed so terrifically oral, that he lifted his tail and she went down to his ass, and started licking that tool She loved doing it, he could tell, the way her tongue worked on his tail, kissing the lips of his ass, getting her tongue into the depths of it. She was a connoisseur with her tongue. He felt regret that he did not have any more holes for her tongue to work over, she had such an oral gift.
"Put your cock between my tits," she said.
He brought his red monster up, while she pressed her tits together, and for a while he rubbed in and out of her tits, and whenever he got close she would lick his cock with her tongue.
"Now, stick it in my cunt," she whispered, lips hot against his ear.
He climbed over her velvet body, massaging her tits, then pointed his cock at her shaved cunt, and slid it in like a dagger into a sheath.
He went in, to the hilt, feeling the smooth moisture and hot flesh.
"Oh, Vera, you got a mother-fucking gorgeous cunt," he whimpered.
"Fuck me, baby, fuck me with everything you got."
And with that hot message laid on him, he started one of the great fucks of his life, arching his ass as he drove his massive cock into her hungry cunt. And she rode his cock with the talent of a super cunt, her muscles sucking at the sides of his cock. Each time that he drove down into her, she rode up with flawless rhythm. His chest against her giant tits, his cock in her hot cunt, his hands round her beautiful butt put him into the frenzies, and it didn't take much more driving-to shoot his creamy load, which blew her mind, for she went on a frenzied trip when her own orgasm started.
Later, when he climbed into his MG to drive home, he looked at the moon, a huge silver ball riding a dark blue sky. He thought it a terrific piece of luck that he had stopped on a whim at Sid's place.
If he had not stopped he would not have found the perfect moment for a perfect fuck day.
"Vera and her vulva," he thought, as he drove onto the road and headed home.
Chapter Six
Mona, for some time, had been fascinated by the intrigue in her home.
When Anita came to the house at first, Mona had been enchanted by the girl, her exquisite body and style. The girl had a lovely oval face, golden hair, a delicacy of figure, with the promise of sensuality in her breasts and hips. She also had an excellent mind and was amusing.
Mona felt herself strangely attracted and somewhat protective, especially with a jock like Bert restlessly prowling the house.
Mona was a celebrity who dashed about in an orbit of social affairs and sometimes other affairs, discreetly concealed of course from Arnold, her husband.
Poor Mona, left alone quite often because Arnold's job kept him overseas, had to search out her own amusements, and often they could be erotic.
Mona was descended from one of the prestigious social families in Washington, and her connections were impressive.
Her first marriage to a famous French industrialist made headlines. He was enormously wealthy, but older, in fact, had children close to Mona's age, who, incidentally, were jealous of their young stepmother.
Her Frenchman was not only famous for wealth, but for appetite. One day he wolfed down an indelicate amount of Cornish hen, which, unfortunately, stuck in his throat. Before help could reach him he expired.
Poor Mona, who had married him for two reasons-his money and his charm, in that order-found herself bereft of both, for he had neglected to make a second will entitling his wife to part of his huge estate.
In court the jealous children clobbered poor Mona, so that she came off with a pittance. For rescue from economic wreckage, Mona grabbed Arnold Pierpont Jones, who, at the time, was in Athens, trying to bribe a general, as usual, to buy planes.
Arnold was rugged, rich, something of a wizard, and actually with a taste for a sexpot like Mona, who operated as a celebrity on the world stage.
She was built, Arnold thought, like a marble outhouse with super social credentials. So he married her, carried her to Southampton-on-the-sea, where she took up wifely duties in the overheated bed of Arnold, and mothering duties to her stepson, Bert and finally, also, to the delicious young baby doll, Anita.
Mona was liberated in the world of sex, and when the passion bite was on her, she could go both ways.
She loved the sporting life, played tennis, and did a torrid turn on the mattress when things were absolutely discreet.
She had begun to suspect intrigue one night when a late coffee kept her tossing in bed. She heard a suspicious sound, then the opening of Anita's bedroom door and the whisper of voices.
As a sophisticated woman of the world, Mona was not startled by hanky-panky between the cousins.
Her problem was that her own goatish lusts were left often unsatisfied with Arnold away. She knew that Bert had a letch for her, something hard for a young stud to hide. It just seemed natural for a kid his age, with a rage in his cock to crave a nubile stepmother, especially one designed like her. Mona did not underestimate her impact on boys of Bert's age.
When she discovered that Bert was pussy-whipping the sweet Anita, her feelings were quite mixed. An amused tolerance, yes, but also the pang of jealousy, as if their fleshy games of cock and cunt had put her on the sidelines. In short, she felt left out of an amusing game.
Being left out was a beastly hang-up since childhood, for her older sister and brother had often left her out, declaring her too young for their games.
As the intrigue of the cousins went on, she made a point of attending to them, the opening of bedroom doors, the whispers, and the laughing. Once she got up, and silently padded on the rug to Anita's bedroom to hear the thump of flesh on flesh, a sound to send her up the wall.
It's a private affair, she thought on her way back. But Mona neglected to judge her own erotic reactions, and shortly found herself with a finger in her cunt, massaging her clit and fantasizing the two kids locked with her in orgy.
The fantasy took on a fiery intensity in her head and one night she came home from a social, high on martinis, and very frustrated.
She lay in bed with a rage in her cunt, when the usual whispers started, and the door opened and shut.
That did it for Mona. She put on a filmy gown that clearly showed her flawless, pear-shaped tits, her shapely hips, even the puss hair that delicately covered her lovely cunt.
She waited, weaving a bit drunkenly, until she figured they would be deep in sex combat, then went softly to Anita's door, softly turned the knob, and opened it.
The room had a strong smell of pot, and on the bed, Bert was straddled over Anita's tits with his cock planted firmly in her mouth.
Mona could see his thick, powerful cock half buried in Anita's throat, the rest of her lovely body stretched on the bed, thighs open, golden puss hairs barely covering her sweet-looking cunt.
Because they were both high from pot, Mona's presence did not discombobulate them. They just stared.
The sight of Mona's gorgeous body clearly seen through the thin gown hypnotized Bert. He could see her cunt and breasts, and the sight made his cock go harder in Anita's mouth.
"Don't let me interrupt. I heard you both playing, and I confess it made me feel lonely, and left out. You both having fun, and me all alone."
Although at first Bert felt a touch of embarrassment at her entrance, these words turned it around, in fact gave him comfort. She seemed not to blame them, but sounded sad at not being part of the fun.
Bert felt a shot of lust and longed for her to join their game.
Anita, feeling also unblamed, her mouth loaded with cock, had no further impulse than to go on eating, which seemed to diminish her nervousness and increase her pleasure.
"Join us if you want. Right. Anita?"
Anita's mouth was too gorged with a gorgeous cock for her to talk, so she just waved and secretly wondered how Mona could join, since she, Anita, had the only cock in the house.
Mona then slipped out of her gown, and her body looked like that of the goddess Circe, long-waisted, flowless tits, super ass.
Bert had to feast his eyes on the sweet cunt that he had always craved to see under her tight slacks.
As for Mona, she stood transfixed, envious that Anita had hold of the one male meat in the party. Bert's cock, she had to confess, jolted her, for though she had often seen the bulge in his pants, she'd had no idea of its devastating size, especially as it moved with majesty in and out of Anita's clinging mouth.
The juices began to simmer in Mona's cunt, but alas, for the moment there was no way for her to get hold of that horrendous hunk of meat, so she did the next best thing.
She climbed into the bed, got between Anita's shapely thighs, looking at the charming cunt with the glistening pussy lips, and put her mouth on Anita's seething pussy, kissing it, spreading it, then inserting her darting tongue.
The young, tender flesh had a sweet musky scent, and Mona found it fascinating to lick. She let her breasts rub against Anita's thighs at the same time.
Anita, her mouth full of a magnificent hard, found it delightful to feel at the same time, a passionate tongue titillating her pussy. Until this moment, Anita had never been sexually touched by a woman, and she found it strange, delicious, divinely exciting to have her pussy tongue-whipped.
Now Bert, really turned on by the presence of Mona, felt a ferocious desire to eat her pussy, and so he slipped sideways to Anita, so that she could go on with her oral caresses while he got hold of Mona's thighs, spread them and put his mouth to her pussy. As befit a beautifully formed woman, her pussy, too, was quite perfect, and his eye and his mouth delighted in caressing it. He felt dynamite excitement, too, from the taboo factor-his stepmother. Wow, what a turn-on! It made him go real violent in her vagina with his tongue; which made her do a great job on Anita, which in turn made her suck his cock like it was the ultimate lollipop!
He felt himself starting to go off, his cock swelling in Anita's mouth, and he fought it because he wanted to see his cock in Mona's mouth, to go off in her, He stopped dead on the sucking, pulled his cock away from Anita, who, all prepared for the blast, let it go with a grieving look.
He grinned, turning toward Mona, who stared at him with greedy eyes.
"Take my cock in your mouth, Mona," he said.
"Nasty little boy," she smiled, and took his cock in her mouth, putting her lips about it, running her tongue over it, under it, and holding onto his balls, as she did it.
He watched her with popping eyes, amazed to see the beautiful Mona with her lips firmly wreathed about his cock, sucking it, jiggling his balls. He adored her face, and looked at the clear, exquisitely boned face, still unlined, against his burly, purple cock. It was obscene and exciting, and a great surge of lust swept over him, so that he grabbed her face, and started to fuck her mouth, thrusting his cock hard into her throat. She receiving him, overwhelmed by his passion.
Below, she could feel Anita, who finally in turn went down to Mona's pussy, and wanting to be part of a three-way sex thing, she started licking Mona's cunt.
That did it for Mona, for she felt Bert's great cock expand and burst, shooting a hot load of cum down her throat, which she proceeded to swallow with professional skill.
And Anita, hearing the groans of cum from Bert, really took off on Mona, so that Mona, too, felt the love juices really pour, felt her cunt go off.
She licked Bert clean, feeling his cock go soft in her mouth, then looked down at Anita, who was rubbing her clit, trying for an orgasm, too.
"You beautiful little cunt," she said, smiling at Anita, "Oh, Mona, you are the beauty here."
"No, darling. I'm thirty-eight. It's all behind me."
Bert grinned. "There's plenty behind you Mona. A really great ass."
"You must fuck it someday, Bert."
"Nothing I'd like better."
So for a time they lay on the bed, their bodies touching each other, enjoying the sight of each other-Anita's young white body with the fast developing bosom, and pink nips, Mona with the sensual curves, almost like a Greek sculpture of Aphrodite. And Bert with his ribbed stomach muscles, his strong thighs and legs, built symmetrically, like an athlete.
The problem of course was that Bert had been fucking so much of late that his sex weapon now lay weary, lay like a limp, curled flower, ready to doze a day before returning to the world of riotous sex.
Mona, on the other hand, felt at the moment a lot of frantic impulses in her pussy. And the sight of Anita's exquisite young figure, looking stainlessly pure, threw her into the hot quivers.
Mona glanced at Bert in the throes of weariness. "I can see honey, that your pushups have put you out of the game."
"Well, Mona, I've been a bit active lately."
"I understand." Mona's hand went smoothly and softly over the shapely thigh of the young girl. "Still, I have to confess that I feel a lot of lowdown lust. And here is this baby doll lying here. I just wonder, Anita, if you too are tired?"
Anita smiled. "I don't think I ever tire of sex. My body feels like a violin that needs a player."
Bert was a bit pissed off, for it always seemed to him unfair that females never had to erect, did not have to discharge juice, which, after all, was nothing but the stored energy of the body, carefully distilled into the balls-and ready to spawn the human race.
Women could actually go on and on with their blasted orgasms, and they seemed never to tire.
He looked at his limp dick, and knew that he could lash it to rise again, but that would deaden him, put him on the shelf for a day. No, he was not going to beat a dead horse to death for these two frantic cunts.
He grinned, then. What could be more amusing than to see their curving, luscious bodies entangled with each other. Like eating each other's cunts! What could be better than that?
At least he could get visual kicks from seeing Mona eating the little sex kitten! So he said to Anita, "I know you'd rather have a stud feed you both a feast of cock. But you'll have to settle for second best. Why not eat each other?"
Mona gave him her sophisticated smile. "I thought you'd never say it, boy." All this time, her hand had been softly stroking Anita, her breasts, her thighs, her mound of Venus.
And she smiled. "I'm so glad you've given us a green light to enjoy each other."
And with that she bent her head and put her tongue on Anita's tit, and licked it and sucked it, over and over.
She was very deliberate about it, Bert thought, aware that a licked tit releases a whole string of sensations that plunge right down to the pussy.
It was marvelous to see the dreamy look steal over Anita's face as the slow sexual excitement began to build.
Mona, with the art of a master seductress, then went to the other breast and did the delicate job of tit titillation. Her hand, all this time, kept up a smooth stroking on Anita's velvety body.
She then stooped down to the cunt, while Anita, as if given some deep instinctive signal, went down to Mona's cunt, and they began to eat each other.
The flow of sensations never quite stopped for them, and Bert, watching, thought their curved, white, exquisite bodies looked spectacular.
He really got a fabulous turn-on watching them, and if you can get an erection in the eyeballs, then it really happened to him.
He watched their tongues moving with superb skill, fluttering in their cunts, to unleash what was apparently a great surge of thrills.
For Anita's body began to shake like a slender tree in a tornado, victim to a tremendous gust of excitement.
She twisted and turned, but couldn't escape the fiery ecstasy of Mona's tongue. It was unquestionably one of the great orgasms when she went off.
Mona, too, joined her with the moans and groans and body twisting.
They lapped each other's cunt juices lovingly, and Bert felt a mix of sex excitement and jealousy.
He stood up, his cock half hard. "That was a beautiful scene. I'm afraid you cunts will reach the time when you can do without cocks."
Mona laughed merrily. "Don't you ever believe it, baby. Cocks are kings."
Nevertheless, she did lean over and kiss Anita, their breasts pressed against each other.
Bert trotted off to his bathroom, thinking. "I wonder if there's a bit of lesbian in every woman?"
Chapter Seven
Sid Duneray lay on the beach at Southampton-on-the-sea, letting the sun do a delicate broil on his skin.
He had naturally dark skin, and when the sun and ocean hit it, his skin went a golden-mahogany that did great things for him.
Sid was vain about his build and liked to parade in front of the beach pussycats on every occasion.
He wasn't a bad-looking guy, but in his mind he pictured himself the son of Hercules.
He got this fantasy of glory mostly from Vera, his mother, who thought the sun rose and set on her only son.
One of the nicest things that had happened to Sid was his friendship with Bert.
Sid admired Bert, whom he thought of as heavy in the brain department, and with lots of debonair charm.
Sid did much as he could to imitate many of Bert's beguiling qualities.
Stilly his jealousy was such that he had to snipe at Bert, trying often to shoot him down, especially if Bert was flying with the wenches.
The plan fact was that Sid had a heavy dose of malice, and just couldn't stand it if someone other than he had any dazzle.
Still, there were nice things about Sid, and Bert liked him in spite of his malicious streak. Bert liked his sense of humor, his athletic prowess, and his loyalty. Not the least, he did have a sexy mother, Vera!
Bert, recognizing that in this world few are perfect, took the good with the bad about Sid.
At this time of the day, the sun was just losing its power, so Sid, somewhat bored, decided to strut along to the beach and check out the pussy cats.
He thrust his head forward and walked chesty, like a big gun, for, after all, he was tackle on the school team. Then he spotted Mona Jones sitting up, looking at a small mirror to put on lipstick, and his heart skipped a beat.
Mona, he thought, was one of the fabulous sights of the whole county. He knew of her luxurious background and her ill-fated marriage to that money potentate.
More than that, it was the fact that, in his visits to Bert, it seemed to him that she vibrated sex at him.
And that baffled Sid, for he couldn't decipher if this sex impact just flowed from her presence, or whether she was percolating to something in him. He would give a lot to know.
As he looked at Mona, she looked at him, and he could swear that her eyes took a long, fierce look at his phallic bunch-up.
She then smiled, and motioned him over.
As a visitor at Bert's house, each time that he had seen Mona she was streaking off to do her thing-a party, a charity, a social, a play, an opera. But she knew him, of course, and he came up, thrusting out his chest to cover his nervousness. Under his cool, he was a mess of nerves.
"Nice to see you here, Sid," Mona said, and somehow, he thought, for the first time in his life, how ridiculous his name sounded, especially on the lips of Mona, who might be saying Your Grace or Prince or Baron. Sid! She just seemed too fucking blue-blooded to use such a plain name. I'll change it tomorrow to Lord Algernon, he thought desperately.
"Sit down, Sid. I have been literally bored out of my head reading this dull magazine."
It so happened that he could tell, from the cover, that the magazine had an article on her, tipping off her taste in fashion designers. Mona did have a big fashion clout in the country, and women were always fascinated by her taste.
She looked at Sid as he sprawled out and smiled.
Actually she would not ever have noticed a young man of eighteen like Sid, except that Bert, her stepson, had brought him repeatedly to the house and seemed to like him.
But Mona, for some quaint reason, thought Sid sexy. He was about six three, with a good chest, and a strong body that came from football.
She responded to his physique, not his personality, which struck her as provincial. But Mona, after all, was a woman of the world, and would have found practically any eighteen-year-old kid in Southampton! provincial.
"How do you happen to be here without Bert?"
"Well, we're not married, Mona."
She smiled. "You've been together so often, one might think you were."
"He's not my type," Sid said, and his eyes caressed her lovely tits. She had pear-shaped beauties, the kind to make a young man's mouth water. She was, in Sid's mind, flawlessly shaped, with superbly shaped buttocks, lovely white thighs and legs.
"What is your type?" she asked idly.
"I like a woman a bit older than me. I prefer a mature woman who has reached her potential, if you know what I mean. She's no longer scrawny, like a kid my age might be. And she's seasoned by, life, you know, worldly wise, one could say."
He then stared directly into her blue eyes. "Well, let me be really nervy. Someone like you, Mona. You're my ideal woman."
She smiled. It was a very flattering speech, and it astonished her. In fact, it even astonished Sid, but he felt inspired by her presence.
Instinctively, he sensed this could be a psychologically delicate moment. As if anything could happen, if the right words were spoken.
And he did perhaps speak them, because at this moment Mona was feeling quite horny. Arnold was over in Saudi Arabia, trying to bribe some sheik to buy FXP military planes. And while he, Mona theorized, was enjoying the favors of some local harem, she was trapped at home, somewhat fearful of doing a thing with the kids just now.
The heat of the sun for the last two hours had been baking her pussy and she, felt all sorts of powerful yearnings. She found herself looking at the passing males, at the cocks in bikinis, and getting tingles from them. She felt really hard up, and was wondering what steps to take to diminish her cravings when Sid appeared.
He was not quite her ideal of the perfect sex partner, but as a body he was not bad. He was built like a powerful stud, and at his size, he could have a healthy young cock. So, just on impulse, she decided to try him.
Her beautiful eyes looked straight at him, and her soft vibrant voice said, "I came out to the beach without my car, Sid: A friend dropped me off. I just don't want to hang on until she comes back. If you're planning to leave now, perhaps we could make it together."
And her eyes were steady on him.
That phrase and look just about blew his mind. When finally he got together, he stuttered. "Why, sure, I mean, yes, Mona. I'm ready to go off, anytime that you are."
Then he bit his lip, feeling very uncool. If he lost his cool, he thought desperately, he would flub the whole sex scene. He palpitated, he drooled, he felt definitely, then, that all his telepathic intakes had been right.
They would get into the car, and one way or another he would get to Mona's magnificent, world-famous cunt.
He wiped his lips, sure that the saliva was drooling, then stood. "Let's go, Mona. I'm ready."
He could not have made a better move, for Mona had actually been turned off a bit by his uncool behavior, but when he stood up, she found her face on the level of his cock, which had inflamed at the very idea of nailing Mona.
It was easy for her to see that Sid's cock had a devastating load of meat in his pants. She felt a stab of wet higher groin. That pushed her over.
She would take this yummy yokel and give his cock a great workout, give him the exquisite pleasure of mouthing Mona's cunt.
She gathered her things, while he gallantly helped, and they made tracks to his car.
While on the parkway, she turned to him. "I'll ask you quite directly, Sid. Do you like me?"
"You're the sexiest woman in the western world," he said reverently.
"I take it from that you would like to make love?"
He gulped. His cock strained so hard, it almost crawled out from behind the zipper.
She glanced down at the jumping thing smiled. "I seem to find evidence of the fact you are feeling somewhat erotic. In that case, I suggest a motel, since we can't chance either your home or mine."
Sid was jolted for two reasons. He hadn't dreamed that she would be that direct, and he loved that. But he hated the idea of a motel. Because Sid, in spite of the fact that his mother was well off, worth easily a million from the money left by her husband, Sid, for some inexplicable reason, loathed any expenditure of money. He was obsessionally stingy, hated to put up one thin dime if he could avoid it. It was some crazy psychological quirk that he had to fight to control.
And he fought courageously now, aware that he could, for a few measly bucks, lose one of the great sex prizes of the world.
I've gotta be mad, he groaned to himself, thinking about the pain of shelling out about twenty or thirty bucks for a motel room.
Mona of course could not even conceive what conflict had started in his soul, except that one obviously had.
"Perhaps you'd rather forget the whole thing?" she suggested sharply.
The fear of this practically blew his mind. "No, no. We're on our way. Right now."
So, he paused once to pick up two bottles of champagne, nothing less for Mona, and stopped at the Easy Sleep In, a motel discreetly off the main roads.
In spite of this, the motel seemed to be filled with illicit lovers, guys and girls of the county, deceiving their spouses with an afternoon carouse.
Sid opened the champagne and poured it. They drank one, then another, then a third glass.
By this time everything between them loosened, and the social gap disappeared, dissolved by alcohol, and there they were, Sid Duneray, a provincial lad of eighteen, with Mona Sutton Jones, one of the world-famous women, at least thirty-five, ready to begin a riotous bit of fun.
Mona, giddy with the champagne, gave him a kiss on the mouth, and he went absolutely ape with lust for her. He grabbed her bikini, pulled it down, and gaped with joy at the beauties of her tit, her flat tummy, her sweet-lipped pussy with its sparse brown maidenhairs.
"Oh, Mona," he croaked, "I could eat you alive."
"You can start eating, if you want to, honey. Just be sure you don't try to digest it."
He burst out laughing, and grabbed her tit in his mouth and began to suck at it fiercely, frenziedly. His hands were all over her, never stopping a moment.
He lay on the bed, and he instantly put his head between her thighs, stuck his tongue into her hot pussy, thinking finally he had found the promised land. She was pure honey, and he could taste the salt of the ocean mixed with the elixir of her pussy. His head was racked with joy as his tongue rioted in her cunt. He spread her pussy, to get into it deeper. And kept digging in, and when finally she lifted her ass, he spread her cheeks and tipped his tongue into her tail.
Every part of her seemed pure ecstasy for him. He had never been so turned on by a female. He didn't know whether it was the fame of Mona or the fact of her great body, but the reason didn't matter. It was just a fabulous and great fun thing for him. He just couldn't stop eating her.
His excitement seemed so intense, and the Action of his tongue so driving, that Mona's cunt went up to the big O, a great orgasm, and she grabbed his head, held it still while she exulted in the vibrations, the wave after wave of pleasure.
Then, without a moment's pause, she went down to his tights which he stupidly still kept on, and pulled them down to look for a moment at his mammoth cock. Then she put its head in her mouth, and let her tongue travel under and around it, paralyzing him with pleasure. She licked his balls, mouthed them tenderly, while he watched, hypnotized.
That great face, that celebrated face that peered from world magazines, with that sweet beautiful mouth, was now working over his cock and balls. What a mother-fucking world of pleasure it was after all, Sid told himself.
She sucked him, holding his balls, and he just went off, like that, his cream pouring out madly into her mouth, and she drank it all, in the supercool style that made her so famous.
When finally they came out of the daze of pleasure, she went to the champagne again.
"You've got a lively cock, honey."
He was limp with spent lust. "Well, Mona, if it's not lively at my age, when will it be?"
She grinned. "Nothing like a young stud to make a woman feel good."
He studied her. "What about Arnold? Is he big in the sack?"
She half shut her eyes, thinking it ridiculous to talk about Arnold to this boy. "Well, Arnold is a game lover. He's imaginative. He thinks up games."
Sid felt envious, and shut out from the private bedroom tricks of Mona and Arnold. He just wondered what on earth they did. He of course was mystified by Arnold, a big man, shrouded in intrigue, with a dazzling past.
"Maybe we ought to play games, too, Mona."
She shook her head. "Just do your thing. It's better that way. He does his thing because he has to."
"He's one amazing guy, Arnold is."
She smiled, thinking of her multi-talented husband, and some of his amazing achievements. She sipped more champagne, and looked then at Sid's young cock still full of fury.
She reached over, poured a little champagne on his prick, which made him jump a bit, then put it into her mouth.
"One way to enjoy a drink," she said.
His cock went up like a flag.
Then she spread her legs and told him to stick his gun in her, and fuck her till wrack and ruin.
"Give me everything your cock has. It's a real beauty," she said, staring at its heavy length. "Stuff me with it, fuck me till I yell bloody murder. Rip me apart."
He went into her cunt, stuffing his great cock all the way, sliding it in to the hilt. "Geronimo!" he yelled, and started to fuck.
He pounded her, grabbing the white cheeks of her ass, got her thighs up, and rammed his cock in. He bounced his balls against her. He pussy-whipped her, for he was in great physical shape.
Then suddenly she said, "Pull it out, and stick it up my ass."
"Wow," he said.
She faced around and sat on his cock. She wriggled on it, this way and that, and his hard, like a steel pipe, stayed up to pierce her ass. It went in like a dagger into its sheath.
As she went up and down on him, he grabbed her peerless tits and squeezed.
The muscles of her ass sucked at his cock, and before he knew it, his head flipped and his cock went off, gushing scads of cream into her shapely ass.
She loved the juices flowing into her, closed her ass muscles, and rubbed the front part of her pussy to bring on another big orgasm.
"It was beautiful," she said, slumping against his big body.
"There's no word for it, Mona," Sid said reverently.
Chapter Eight
Arnold Montfrey Jones, the father of Bert, the husband of Mona, and uncle of Anita, was one of the truly clever men of the 20th century.
It would be hard to define his cleverness except to say that he seemed to have started life at the bottom of the human pile, and that he shot to the top with all the ease of the man on the flying trapeze. He acquired not only a hefty personal fortune, but also a social position that made him warmly welcomed everywhere by royalty and potentates of wealth.
Rumor had it that his father had come out of a mid-European ghetto to the teeming sidewalks of New York, where he did more philosophizing than working. His son from the beginning showed a wizardry that sometimes erupts in out-of-the-way places.
His mother had gotten swept away by the flu, and the father was stupefied to discover that he had nurtured a noble prodigy of ten. From the start the boy exhibited astonishing talent, and by the time he was ready to graduate from public school, he appeared to be on his way to becoming a math wiz, a gifted musician, a literary scribe, and a super athlete. His teachers, aware of these formidable qualities, called on the principal to be sure the young boy did not waste his intellect on the desert air. The principal wrote to a friend on the faculty of a great Eastern prep, and they invited the boy for an interview. The school authorities then were so dazzled by the boy's mental gifts, they instantly offered him a four-year scholarship. Arnold, without half trying, for his memory was encyclopedic, made a four-year average of A plus, and finished at the head of each class, from freshman to senior.
He played quarterback for the football team, catcher for the baseball team, edited the school literary magazine, and wrote articles for the nationally prestigious Science Monthly.
He was easily a mental and physical phenomenon.
He entered Harvard with his name legally changed to Arnold Montfrey Jones, and swiftly repeated the dazzling achievements he had garnered at Groton.
The one conspicuous feature about Arnold was his amiable personality. He had an intuitive feeling about people and handled the most varied types with consummate skill.
After all, he had been circulating for some time among the sons of the country's aristocrats of wealth and social position, and found himself a focal center of the most intellectual societies. His subjects were physics, literature, math, and most especially philosophy, for which he had acquired a sharp thirst.
One might think that a young man, gifted with such qualities, might neglect the world of girls. Instead, his appetite for them proved quite formidable, and there were many who tried to flip him into matrimony.
At Harvard, one of his cronies was Thomas Pierpoint Woodbridge, Jr., son of the multi-million-dollar president of the Hawks Holding company, maker of the super-plane FX2, a phenomenal new fighter.
Thomas Jr. was an astute observer of men, who felt it would be clever to snare Arnold for the company. His old man was impressed, and authorized a lifetime deal that would eventually bring Arnold into the key executive group.
With the passing years, Arnold got assigned to the prize markets where super tact was called for, as well as total grasp of the company business, the ability to evaluate a client, and above all, the talent to offer a bribe that would, without offense, always bag the deal, usually on a multi-million-dollar level.
In the interim, Arnold married Roberta Anderson, daughter of the famed Southern governor, and they produced Bert, who, compared to his gifted father, was appallingly average; at eighteen, he seemed to be a jock, a sex athlete, and incurably lazy.
It didn't matter to Arnold, who felt that each of us designs his own destiny.
He met Mona in Athens, to which he had come to sell planes, and even more important, to stare at the Acropolis, which epitomized to him Greek beauty and thought.
Mona, at the time, had been on the crest of her fame and beauty, and when her marriage collapsed because of the death of the French magnate, she felt peculiarly vulnerable.
Arnold knew that beyond her impeccable social connections, Mona didn't have a pot to pee in. So, when she put her hot hand on his pocket and his pecker, in that order, he smiled and thought it might be a fun thing, even if it did not go a long way. She was a sizzling sexpot, and he liked such women. He figured that she might make a couple of discreet sex trips on the side, but that she would be guided by good sense.
He loved her great body and her talent at cock-sucking, and he liked her taste for gentle bondage.
Actually, they enjoyed playing far-out passion games in the bedroom, and his imagination liked to run the spectrum of light bondage. Each took a turn at playing master and slave, finding it kinky.
So, on this night he flew in from Israel, where he had discussed the hardware needs there, since he didn't like to see the tiny country smothered by an all-out attack from its enemies. He discussed the value of the atomic weapon as a deterrent, just in case there was a gang-up of enemies in a position to annihilate the small country.
Arnold flew back to his place at Southampton to be alone with Mona. She had given the kids tickets for a hot new porno picture in New York to be sure that she and Arnold could be alone that particular night.
She really craved his big cock.
Even though, on occasion, she did condescend to eat Bert, there could be no comparison between the boy's cock and that of the father. Arnold was marvelously hung, with a splendid tool, the balls and cock of a stallion in heat.
They had a great dinner first, with lots of champagne, and he told her some of his adventures overseas.
Arnold believed in pacing his pleasures, and he didn't go in for copious copulation with Mona. He didn't want his bedroom experiences with her to become boring.
They undressed and bathed and soaped up everywhere, then went into the bedroom, where he bound her hands together and her feet, too.
She sat on the chair, her tits flowing out, looking perfect. He got out a whip, a feather whip that would not leave a welt, and waved it.
"You're a promiscuous slut," he said. "It will be easier for you if you confess your crimes rather than have me extract them from you. I rather like beating a slave, so it would be nice if you didn't confess."
This was the game.
She stared right in his eyes, "No, I don't think I'll tell you anything."
"Nothing?" A grim, sadistic smile twisted his lips. And his hand went up and slashed down, bringing the whip across her breasts.
It was actually a symbolic slash, for the whip, being mostly feathers, obviously had anything but a ferocious impact.
But she acted as if she had been really slashed.
"Oh," she groaned. Then, as he watched her, she again looked straight into his eyes. "Well, I admit that I have sucked a couple of cocks. Even a cunt. But you've been away too long. And I'm not a plaster saint."
He strutted round her, his cock upstanding, red and angry, slapping the whip in his palm.
"You pretty little monster. You seem unable to control your debased appetites. I find it urgent to discipline you. I'm going to whip your pretty ass.
And he brought the whip down sharply v and severely down over her marvelously shaped white ass.
She let out a few shrieks.
Then he said, "And now, just to teach you your place, kindly put your tongue up my ass, and give me a good licking."
He stepped in front of her, turned his tail to her. With an eagerness that had no threat of force behind it, she inserted her tongue in his anus and proceeded with a passionate licking.
He could, by bending over, get his finger into her hot pussy and stroke it, which so excited her, that her tongue did some devastating turns up his ass.
After a bit of this backward fun, he pulled away and started again to strut back and forth, again pounding the whip threateningly in his palm.
"You have been unfaithful, and for that I should pound your ass till it's bloody red. But you've done dirtier deeds than that! You've been evil, done the ultimate evil."
She stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He slashed at her wickedly with the whip. "I like this pretense of innocence. You know exactly what I mean. You've fucked your own son, and your own daughter!"
She cowered in fake terror. "But Bert is only my stepson, and Anita is not my daughter!"
He sneered at her, "Just quibbling, quibbles."
He raised the whip threateningly, and shoved his big, angry cock at her mouth. "Kiss and lick my balls immediately!"
She bent down slavishly and began a fiercely erotic tonguing of his cock and balls, as if out of both fear and desire.
He watched her lustfully for a while, then withdrew his cock from her mouth.
She grieved at her loss of the huge, living lollipop.
"How did you know about them?" she asked curiously, for she was mystified that he picked that up so fast. He had, after all, not even seen the kids since his return.
He smiled maliciously, "My poor darling. You mustn't imagine that you can deceive me."
He brought a tape machine into the room, a small electronic marvel that began to project images on the wall with a flick of a button. The images were in vivid color and showed a playback of her passionate encounters with Bert and Anita.
Her eyes popped at the sight of herself on the wall, the sensual beauty of her body exaggerated in size.
Arnold, she realized, had concealed some electronic eye device, that, sensitized to movement, picked up their sex encounter?
Together and silently Arnold and Mona studied the fiercely erotic scenes as they were played back, the jostlings of the beautiful bodies, the movements of mouth and tongue as they sought to maximize their pleasures.
Arnold smiled. "Someday, Mona, she may be as beautiful as you."
For the moment he had dropped his sadistic mask.
"I suppose," she said, "that means you will be after a bit of incest." Her voice was sarcastic.
He stared at her thoughtfully. "I don't know. But let's admit that these taboos are obsolete and stupid."
Then, as if aware he had slipped out of the master role, his face hardened.
He swirled his whip. "Meanwhile, you little slut, I'll thank you to give me a ferocious blowjob or I may exchange this feather whip for hard, black leather."
"You wouldn't date." Her eyes blazed at him.
He laughed, amused at her response. He actually had small interest in physical punishment, the flesh-beating which seemed to be at the core of sadism, but he did find something delicately comic in the game of master-slave.
This, it seemed to him, touched some deep psychic cores in the human creature, as if there were some yearning to be either dominant or dominated.
Arnold had always been amused at the pecking order that he found in the barnyard and in corporate structures. There were lines of force set up in the world of hens and of people.
He thought that the push of power found its fiercest expression in bed, when two human creatures, very complex, jostled each other's psyche to find out who would play master to the slave.
The master, of course, always pictured himself as using the slave for his personal pleasure, but Arnold understood that the slave, in a perverse way, got kicks from the enslavement.
Males, Arnold thought, like the domination game mostly, for it pandered to their egos, their little conceits. They liked pussy-whipping!
Still, Arnold considered Nature had a joke in the game, for her goal was to impregnate the female, even the cockroach, so the species could survive.
These ideas went through Arnold's head even as he picked up the whip and slashed it threateningly through the air.
Man, he was thinking, has triumphed over nature because he has turned sex into a game of fun, instead of blindly submitting to the boring cosmic force of begetting and begetting.
Arnold enjoying thinking, for he was aware that thinking was the most human of human activities, unique to man on the planet earth, and he thought often to increase his amusements in life, which led him now to the use of the electronic visual.
So now both he and Mona watched the playback of the bedroom pleasures that the trio had enjoyed during Arnold's absence.
Arnold noted with sharp enjoyment the sophisticated style of Anita's cocksucking. It really turned him on, and he made a decision to sample her talents, as well as that enchanting cunt that showed mostly in the pictures as a gleaming slit.
But just now, his focus was fastened on Mona, who looked luscious tied up, and obviously at his mercy. He felt a ferocious triumph in that he could order her to do anything, and that she would have to submit.
She was celebrity, and that face of hers would be recognized anywhere, yet he had her in his power, and right now could pee on that famous face, if he wanted!
It was a nice idea, and it stiffened his cock even more.
He stood in front of her with his, tumescent tool pointing at her, as if she was the target for his arrow.
"Okay, bitch, start sucking, and don't stop until you really get every drop of cum out of my balls!"
And Mona, aware that he had her in his power, and that she rather liked being commanded to do things, abased even, by her lord and master, stooped down, took his giant cock in her mouth, and used her tongue in a most violent way, working under the meat of the head, down along the long monstrous shaft, all pumped with blood to his balls, which she got into her mouth and licked frantically, too.
I love it when he commands me, she thought, frantic with desire. She loved to feel his meat in her mouth, to take so much of it that her felt stuffed.
She tried, in her braver moments, to that famed actress of porn who made a spectacular feat of totally swallowing her partner's giant tool.
It was a delicious sight for Arnold, seeing his huge cock seemingly disappear down the length of her throat. She must have, he thought, the throat of a goose.
He loved the sensuality of it, of course, but there was another dimension to his pleasure that went back to his earliest sex memories.
For he had an obsessional thing about famous women giving his cock oral pleasure.
There had been a time, when he was about seven, when he got pushed about badly by older boys and girls who collected in the backyards to trot out their sex parts for study.
He was, at the time, two years younger than the other boys, so when they urged him to show his pecker, the petite size of it sent them into cruel gales of laughter. The presence of the girls did a bit of enlarging for the boys, so they felt superior and mocked Arnold mercilessly.
Little Arnold assumed that he was a sexual dwarf, that he had a stunted pecker, and could only be an object of fun to women.
When, during the games, the boys and girls tried to imitate their parents and put little peckers onto little cunts, nothing would happen but hysterical laughter.
The girls, noticing Arnold's puny pecker, treated him disdainfully, aware that this insignificant weenie could never be enough for them.
It all had had a horrendous impact on little Arnold, who did not know that two years earlier these boys, had also had tiny weenies. The little monsters, eager to feel big, would not reassure Arnold that very shortly he would be just as big as they!
It was at that moment, in a mood of childish fury, that Arnold swore to become rich and powerful in spite of his tiny pecker, and afterward, to have the world's most beautiful women lick his puny little pecker. To show them later how he despised them, he would pee over them, too!
In that way he would revenge himself.
When Arnold's body and brain developed a bit later, he swiftly outdistanced the idiots who had mocked him. But they say the earliest psychological scars are the most lasting. And so he developed his lust to have very beautiful women give blowjobs wherever he found them.
The sight of a beautiful face, a famous face, an actress or a socialite doing the indelicate job of licking his cock, somehow wiped out remnants of the humiliation of his childhood.
So, whenever he traveled in the great world, by dint of magnetic charm, great contacts, or the power of money, he would find some beautiful woman to give oral worship to his cock.
It did much indeed to soothe the old wound.
He was just now soothing the wound as he I looked at beautiful Mona, that famous face that peered over and over from magazines, who was just now giving his cock a great blowjob.
Now he had this famous bitch in bondage, her arms tied to her legs, and she in a crouch so her cunt was spread apart for him to look at or penetrate, whatever his whim.
He loved looking at her full lips firmly creased around his cock, the blood pumping strongly through the veins. He liked to see her pink tongue passionately fluttering under the head of his dick, to see her licking his balls.
Then he felt the gism in him build up for a gigantic spurt, so he grabbed her head, held it steady to fuck her mouth. His cock swelled mightily, then, as he spurted, he pulled it from her mouth to shoot his cream over her face, her lips, her cheeks, her breasts.
He then unloosened her bonds, and she smeared the spunk over her skin, for she had heard it held proteins to keep the skin and flesh young.
Then Mona fell to her knees, kissing his balls, licking his cock clean, in a state of anguished joy because the psychological kicks of bondage had triggered for her a tremendously intense orgasm.
This was often their private game, a play in which abasement brought her ecstasy.
Once she had read the famous Story of O and felt a curious kinship with the woman who could find some pleasure in pain. Though naturally Mona would never go to the degraded depths of pain that the woman "O" choose for herself, she did think that light bondage had its fascination. And she took from it a delicate and delicious pleasure.
Now Arnold picked her up, dumped her on the bed, spread her thighs, and began to eat her. She had sweet-tasting meat to her cunt, he thought, and he believed it to be beautifully shaped.
In Arnold's vast experience, he did find a difference in the shape of cunts, that some were homely and some exquisite.
He dug his tongue into her delicious pussy, probing to her clit, hitting it over and over. He caressed her enchanting buttocks while licking her. It gave him delight to touch Mona, for she kept her body in super shape with tennis and swimming. She had been gifted with a great body, and sports kept it firm and flawless. He got his finger in her crotch, jiggled it cleverly then slipped to her charming tail, easing his finger in to work the nerves.
He toyed with her body, titillating it until he could feel the swell again in his cock, and then he had her give it a swift licking just before he it into her hot cunt.
He always felt great when finally he slid all way into her cunt and had his arms around her body, which seemed to be a perfect fit to his own.
It made him think with a smile of the old Greek legend. The human creature, according to that legend, was once four-legged, with two heads each facing out, and a round body. To punish this creature for arrogance, the God cut him down the middle, making two separate creatures. Since then, the two halves searched frantically for each other, male and female, to get the feel of wholeness when finally they coupled in sex!
That, in a way, was the feeling that swept over Arnold at special times when he fucked Mona. She gave him this delicious sense of being complete.
And now, riding her cunt, holding her ass fiercely close, to pump his pecker into her as deep as he could, he got this delightful feeling, and it made him feel he had done quite nicely to nail down Mona, and bring her home to Southampton.
As for Mona, she rode his cock with squeezed muscles, aware of the delicious pleasure of being fucked by a man whose body and brain she could admire. Although Mona was a sensuous woman she also hated to be bored by men, and Arnold always had the capacity to keep her entertained. His fucking was never boring, and even now he had turned on the tape machine, which sent visual images up against the wall, so that they could see the sucking and fucking of Anita and Bert with Mona. It gave them an extra dimension of delight in their fucking. It was, in some sense, a fantasy orgy, as if the others were present during their own dynamite fucking.
Mona felt her sensations crest, and grabbed Arnold fiercely around his ass, forcing him to drive in harder, and aware that she was going off, he put on an explosive performance, so that the cream spurted from his cock into her vibrating cunt.
She groaned with the bliss of it, feeling the pleasures go through her body in a flow of waves. She couldn't help thinking that, somehow, Arnold could give her orgasms that were intolerably exciting.
They lay together for a time, enjoying the contact of body, feeling the slow ebb of sensation. Then after that they bathed, and dined regally. The cook and butler, though given the night off, had prepared beef stroganoff.
And while they dined, they talked.
"I do wish you wouldn't spend so much time away from home. I realize how much I miss you when you are back."
He sighed. "Perhaps you appreciate me more just because I'm here so infrequently."
"No. I just can't get enough of a good thing, Arnold."
He smiled. "In my experience, we can get of a good thing, if we eat it too often."
She studied him. "I suppose you are rarely bored over there. Where did I hear that one of the Arab sheiks asked you to enjoy his harem?"
"Yes, where did you hear it?" He raised an eyebrow. It was curious how she seemed to have a pipeline to some of his more colorful jaunts over? seas.
He thought with amusement of the harem. To be surrounded by ten naked women oiled and plump, and exquisitely oriental, whose entire lives were concentrated on increasing the pleasure of the sex coupling!.
Their tongues were snakes, and they developed muscles that were inconceivable, if you thought about it. He thought of the exquisite liquid eyes, the abundant bosoms, the delicate way they could use their tongues to accentuate and intensify the orgasms.
"The harem is a marvelous idea," he said. "It's a world of sex carried to its ultimate development. I think the East is enormously more developed than we are in the appreciation of the impulse to pleasure. The harem is the ultimate sex concept."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, darling, as long as women had their personal collection of studs, I would agree."
He grinned. "Personally, I think it would be quite fair. On the physiological side, men wear out faster, and therefore, it would seem that women need one stud to replace the stud who has shot his load. However, since men have mastered the world, wherever you go on earth you will find that it is the stud who collects the females. Biology is destiny, darling. The phrase seems to be quite accurate."
"Biology is destiny," she repeated. "Well, it is in some cases. Some of us make our own destiny, though."
He grinned. "Mona, you're a special case. You have been able to shape your own fate. But only extremely beautiful or very talented women can do that. Most women are victims of fate, and of their sex, in my opinion."
She poured some brandy for them. "I suspect that in many cases, women are victims of fate, and men are victims of women."
He laughed. "It would seem that way. If you think of it. Men come to women full of fight and fury, and leave them with their tails practically between their legs. That's the victory that women win. Always."
He stared now at Mona opposite him, a super specimen of the western woman.
"Woman, he said, "is the total sexual creature. When she violates her destiny, when she tries to imitate the man, when she tries to get power, like men in the big world, something happens to spoil her nature. She then becomes neurotic. She goes to doctors, she can't get orgasms. She twists her head trying to be everything but what she can be. The result? Women lose the divine content and become the neurotic sex."
Mona took a cigarette, stared at him, then smiled. "That Arnold, is a very old chestnut. A stale idea since Adam. Let me explain. The most precious thing for the male is his ego. If you threaten his ego, you literally ruin him. Now, when woman get into the business world and compete very often successfully against man, she hits at his ego. He can no longer believe that he's better, that he's superior to women. He's no longer the boss. Suddenly, his power disappears. His ego is cracked. He can't tolerate that; if he has nobody to boss around, he's in a state of total misery.
"Therefore, he uses every weapon to get women back-in the kitchen, in the bedroom. He mocks her efforts at liberation. He writes dissertations on the historical and natural inferiority of women. He fights every advance they want to make to broaden their enjoyment of life. That's why you, Arnold, are selling me now the divine content of the harem female whose entire life mission, according to you, is to suck the male cock with exquisite artistry, then crawl into the wall, until the male cock is again ready.
"My poor Arnold. The day is past when you can victimize women. You can't put back the clock."
He lifted his glass of champagne in a toast. "Well I tried, darling."
"I expected you to, darling."
"Of course; Mona, I give you total freedom. But because I happen to be a civilized man. But I can't help notice that you have the instincts of the harem favorite. Admit that."
She laughed. "Not entirely, my sweet Arnold. My instinct to give you pleasure, obviously, has as its final purpose my own pleasure. In this way, we both get what we want. We are both happy. It's the best of possible worlds."
Arnold, of course, understood all, but was amusing himself at an evening meal.
Finally, he said, "I must confess that if you were only a sexual creature you would be a deadly bore. It's what happens between the fucks that really makes a relationship work." He grinned. "And darling, there is nothing dull about you."
"Or you, my darling.
She came to him, and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.
Chapter Nine
For the early part of the next week, Arnold, at his office in national headquarters, dictated on tape the status of his negotiations in the Mid-East. Five million paid to the Swiss bank accounts of key corruptible men would mean the return eventually of half a billion to the company.
It had been, on the whole, a marvelous jaunt for Arnold, and had done much for the health of his personal finances.
Tom Woodbridge, his old buddy at Harvard, now in command of the huge Hawkes Holding Company, was pleased, but he had expected such a performance.
"I'm having a party, Arnold, and hope you and Mona can make it."
Arnold smiled. Woodbridge entertained in the style of an Oriental potentate. And you found at these affairs not only generals and politicians, but some of the most beautiful women out of Hollywood, Broadway, and London.
Arnold would prefer that at these parties Mona be elsewhere, but that could scarcely happen. She carried a big clout socially, and Woodbridge wanted her there.
However, both Arnold and Mona understood that they could always pursue their private pleasures, if they were in the mood, for even before the term was invented they had had an open marriage. They could go to the same party, find some delightful diversion, a new partner for the night, then meet next morning, smile, and inquire if the evening had been amusing.
In short, they were a pleasure-loving couple who gave freedom to each other and had managed to liquidate the ogre of jealousy.
At the party, which was dazzling, with beautiful women in elegant or even outlandish costumes-as long as they were designed by famous designers-and with generals wearing their decorations, and men in the newest hot fashions out of London and Paris, Arnold drifted around, sipping his martinis, and looking for adventure.
He found it in the tall English girl, one of the famous English acting family who had stopped off to read some scripts for Broadway, the exquisite Rowena.
She had done some marvelous acting things on the screen, and Arnold found her personal life very off beat, for she did what she wanted, when she wanted. She had at least two kids, by-blows of some handsome actors that she had no intention of marrying. She hated the very idea of marriage, for it meant to her some sort of submission to male. Arnold was very amused at her attitude, and felt she could get away with it because she was a famous actress, and she was beautiful, and she was financially independent.
Because she was such a dazzler, naturally the men circled around her like vultures, and when finally she did break away, she went over to Mona whom she had known in London.
That put an edge on Arnold, for he had a sharp appetite for a woman like Rowena, who seemed so off beat, very much her own woman. The kind, actually, that fascinated him. He liked an ornery bitch who did what she liked in the world, who didn't give a sweet shit for anyone's opinion. Such brave souls made him very envious, mostly because he had not really done such a thing in his own life. Arnold had got into a corporation, which, you might say, was father and mother to its workers. He met their conditions, mostly because he felt the rewards would be so terrific. And though it had made him a very rich man, he still felt that he had not really lived the free life. Once you belong to a business, you found it hard to be free.
He watched Rowena talk to Mona for a while, and was struck by the sense of closeness. They seemed to be on the same wave-length, he thought, and the thought struck him, suddenly, that perhaps they had once, in some distant place, actually shared the same bedroom pleasures!
The idea enchanted him, and he toyed with the thought that he might joggle Mona, and see if something amusing could be worked out between them all, later.
When Mona left Rowena, he took a few fast strides, and got to Rowena before a rather handsome guy who looked like a movie star reached her.
Rowena seemed to perk up when he came over. "How are you? Although we haven't met, I know that you're Mona's husband."
"Yes, Rowena. It's a pity that we haven't met. I have been admiring you for years. Ever since I saw you in The Promiscuous Mrs. Tanguay.
"Oh! that miserable movie."
He grinned. "Didn't you like it?"
"Not really. I thought I might when I started it, but it turned out to be rather boring." She studied him. "I actually made love to four men on the set. I mean, it was the real thing. Just because I like reality, and hate to do anything phony when I am acting."
He smiled at her. "That is the great thing you have on the screen. Your reality. When you do a thing, one just knows that it's based on the real thing, not something out of the imagination."
She looked him straight in the eyes. She had cornflower-blue eyes, a straight nose, and a lovely face, that came mostly from the honest feelings that always flowed over her features. She had luscious plump boobs and was put together in a very sexy way, with long waist and flowing-out hips.
He enjoyed looking at her, but her charm for him came more from the personality that you picked up watching her on screen. You felt that she had depths on depths, that there was nothing ordinary, that she looked at life as if it were her own original experience, and felt with her own feelings, and not the way that others thought she should feel.
They chatted for a while, and both picked up another big martini, which made them glow.
"It always interested me," he said, "The way you have lived your personal life."
"In what way?"
"Well, you know what I mean. You don't seem to marry the father of your kids. That's pretty brave. All the bluenoses scowling at you."
"I've always done what I thought right, not what the bluenoses thought."
"Well, wouldn't you want the natural father to bring up his son?"
"Not if I cared nothing for the man. Not if I thought that he would do little good as a father. Not if I didn't care for nightly fraternizing with him in bed. Why should I? The boy wouldn't enjoy it, either. I can always send him over to the father for visits, if he's interested."
Arnold grinned. He liked women like her, he really did. All this lust for freedom, for the desire to do what you wanted, and not to kowtow all the time. Most women were in the kowtow business, he thought, and they went through life kowtowing to their kids, to their kinky husbands, and so on.
Rowena, he thought, did what she wanted.
Did she love as she wanted, too, he wondered.
He was over forty, and she was only twenty-three, although she had obviously lived a couple of lives already. Some women go through life in double time, Arnold thought, and get a lot of living in. Certainly Rowena gave him that impression. He wondered if he could connect with her, for after all, she was young, she had everything she needed, and could have that blond handsome stud who was even now lurking on the sidelines.
A stud that wanted to trip her on her heels and get his cock in.
Well, Arnold wanted to do just that, but he might miss out.
She knew very little of him, except that he was Mona's husband, a big plus if you saw it from a woman's angle. Women were always curious, Arnold thought, about what other women had. Sibling rivalry all over the world among the girls.
Just then, Tom Woodbridge came up and put his arm around Arnold. "Ah, Rowena. You have found our favorite boy. Lucky girl."
She was struck by that. "What makes him your favorite, Tom?"
After all, Woodbridge was to her another name for the Rockefellers, with money from here to Alaska, and she respected his ideas of excellence.
"Who, Arnold?" Tom's eyebrows went up. "Arnold is the hotshot guy, the wizard of the western world. He has just come back, from the Mid-East, where he has been stampeding through the oil treasuries and the sheik's harems.
"He's an irresistible force. He has brought the golden fleece. He always brings back the golden fleece, wherever I send him in this great big world. He's the Jason of our times. Didn't you know that, Rowena darling?"
And he put his arm around her, kissed her, patted Arnold on his head lightly, and moved on to some of his other guests.
Rowena found that very interesting. At first, when she looked at Arnold, she felt he was a rather handsome guy, and that he had to be special to be married to Mona, but she had her eye that evening on the blond stud, who was trying to get close to her. The guy, actually, was to be cast in her next picture, and she could forecast that fornication was ahead. He was Ashton, an English tennis champ, and special to her.
She did feel attracted to Arnold, but didn't really know him, except that she thought it might be fascinating to connect with the guy who was fucking Mona. She had once before in London been at a party where both she and Mona had shared Ronald Maines, that Welsh dynamo of stage and screen, and Mona's fabulous body always intrigued her afterward.
"You do your thing," Arnold said. "I like a woman who does her own thing."
"I cannot like a man who doesn't," she said.
He shrugged. "Men are victims of the system. They can't be free until they milk the system for the money."
"I don't think you need money to be free."
He shook his head. "You haven't tried it, darling. Women think everyone should take risks never take! Poverty is another word for enslavement."
She looked at him, straight on, with her lovely blue eyes. "I don't believe that; you scale down your wants. Then you're not poor. You are poor only if you're greedy for big cars and big houses."
"Philosophers always say that shit," he said. "But I think it's the philosophy of the have-nots. If you don't have it, you might as well make not-having respectable. I find that money makes power. And power makes happy men. And contented women."
She shrugged. "Perhaps you mean a potent man."
He took another drink, and looked at her luscious tits. "What makes a man potent? Money in the bank. That he's made with his own hands and brain. The system rewards him with applause, and that applause goes straight to his balls. It makes juice." He leaned toward her. "It's how the male becomes powerful in bed. Why he has the stamina to give you all the pleasure you want."
Her cornflower-blue eyes glistened with amusement. "You're really saying money men fuck better."
"If they make the money, it's a sign of potency. As a general rule."
She glanced over at Tom Woodbridge in another group, a man who had to have close to a billion dollars.
"Is Tom a potent guy?"
He smiled. "My theory is that liquid money is love juice."
She laughed. "You're a very degenerate type, Arnold."
Yes, he was thinking, and nothing would please me more than to get my tongue in your luscious cunt.
"I can see, too, that you have dirty fantasies," she laughed.
He grinned. Women have a radar about men, especially when they think dirty.
"Would you like to know my fantasy?"
She felt all sorts of tingles, looking at him through half-closed eyes. In the last few minutes, mostly because of their conversation, she found him fascinating. She couldn't help responding to him, and all sorts of subtle pleasures were happening in her vagina. If she invited him to put his fantasy into words, she felt it would instantly lock them in a coupling.
"Tell me it. But softly." And she leaned forward.
He whispered. "I saw myself between your thighs, and my tongue in your pussy. A dynamite tongue."
She leaned back, her face, like an actress, in perfect control. But her cunt was pulsating wildly. Rowena had no way of expecting so intense a response from her body.
She lifted the drink to her lips. "It's nice to hear your promise of pleasure. Most men, I imagine would have fantasized me down on them. Men are sexually selfish."
"You generalize too easily, Rowena. But you don't have to be right. Nor do I."
There was a pause, the one that precedes the invitation to sin.
"Have you been on the third floor of the west wing?" he said.
Her eyes were glued to him. "What's there?"
He smiled mysteriously. "The Fantasy Room. A place where everyone works out his dreamwork."
"Her dreamwork."
He grinned. "Dreamwork of the human creature, shall we say."
She finished her drink. "I would like-to see the Fantasy Room."
They walked through the crowded room, bypassing the generals who looked lustfully at the delicious Rowena, and enviously at Arnold. From off to the side of the gigantic room, he could see Mona in a tight talk with the blond stud, Ashton.
He bit his lip, vexed that he had seen them together. How much more interesting not to know where Mona would be putting her mouth on this night!
You paid a bitter price if you had a sensitive imagination, Arnold thought wistfully, as they went into the elevator. You always pictured the degenerate activities of your wife in her love embraces. It sometimes could be upsetting, if you caught a glimpse of the lover, as in this case.
There were on the third floor of the west wing of the Woodbridge estate a series of rooms exquisitely decorated in the styles of past periods in history. Each had paintings and tapestries of the colorful past of England or France.
The bed had a scarlet cover, very suitable apparently for the sort of excitement that the room generated. They were by this time very high and both in a terribly sexy mood. They could scarcely wait, in fact, to get to each other. They were not hypocrites about sex, and about what they wanted from each other, although Arnold was to be surprised shortly by Rowena's curious demands.
Arnold shut the door behind him with the inside lock which protected them from any passing stray, and he turned to her and instantly put his hands to her face, pulled her to him and kissed her.
She opened her mouth, and let her tongue touch his, so that soon their tongues were blissfully touching and thrilling each other.
Arnold felt a devouring passion for the strange English girl, and he just didn't know quite what to expect from her sexually. He would be bold and beastly, as he behaved in other sex scenes, and hope for the best. However, he was enough of a veteran in the world of vice to know that every woman had her own hang-up in sex, and you couldn't generalize about what turned her on.
So, he kissed her to feel the speed up of her breathing, then put his hands on her thin, exquisitely colored body shirt, and opened the buttons to slip in and touch her delicious tit, shaped marvelously like a perfect pear. He could feel the nipple, deliciously erect, too, and he bent down to nibble on it, then to suck on it.
She had the-most delectable flesh for her breast, and his breath came hard and fast as he sucked on each one.
"Oh, you sweet honey," he said, feeling ridiculous as the clich� came to his lips, for there were no fresh words you could use. A flawless, fabulous tit in his mouth, yet only a tired word came to his lips! He swore at himself, for he really hated to lose his cool just because this was Rowena whose gorgeous body on the screen had heated the loins of lusting men all over the civilized world.
Now, that he had her breathing hard, he got hold of her hand, put it over his cock, hard as a pipe in his pants. It had the desired effect, for she tensed at the touch, and then her fingers began to stroke him, and try to get to the real flesh lurking under the cloth.
He swiftly, with one motion, unzipped his pants and got his thick, splendid shaft out, the pulsating flesh that always knocked the wenches on their asses.
She stayed cool about it, stroked his cock, finding it interesting, but she didn't throw a fierce fit.
"Let's get comfortable," he said finally, for the clothing was all in the way. Yet, he sensed that something in her was not playing the game all the passion that he expected, and a sneaking idea came to him that she might wipe him out, just on a whim. It could happen with a sweet bitch like Rowena, whose whole life style fitted into nothing you could predict.
She was a piece of velvet, a delectable cunt that any man would give his eyeteeth to possess or pulverize with prick.
Now, he had that opportunity, yet there seemed something missing in the intensity of her passion. He couldn't be mistaken about such things; his instinct was infallible in matters of sex.
Her body, nude, was something that men dreamed of. She had the long-waisted look that he loved in women, and a sweep of hip, nobly proportioned, and beautifully shaped limbs. Her green eyes had a way of staring at you, straight on, without the smallest shift, as if she wanted to see what you were like deep down in your soul.
He loved women with this straight, fearless look, and nothing turned Arnold off more than that Oriental stuff he found among the women out there, where they bowed their heads in submission, hot daring to look straight at their men, as if it were an insult to look into the eyes of the master!
He loathed that in the female, and never could respect women from the East for that very reason. But Rowena was at the other end of the spectrum when it came to the bold, hard, searching look into a man's eyes!
And they were green eyes, and just now, they had a curious look in them, not entirely sexual, even though he stood entirely nude in front of her, with his cock superbly erect, looking like the finest specimen of a bullcock.
She had an exquisite light fuzz of blond hair over her pussy, and the lips of her pussy gleamed with a touch of wet.
He moved into her body, touching the velvet of her flesh, feeling tremendously turned on by it.
He tried to edge her to the sofa, to get her prone. "Let me taste the love juice of your body," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Arnold had really lost his cool, obviously, completely dazzled by the thought that he would soon be driving his cock into the famous cunt of two continents.
"I think you're moving a bit too fast for me," she said.
Her voice was cool, and the look in her eyes was icy, too, green ice. He then knew his intuition was right. Something was missing for her. She couldn't be turned on just by his licking her tits, or her pussy, or any such straight sex. She needed a trick or two. He sensed it.
"If you want me to slow down," he mumbled, disappointed. Part of him was ready to rape her if she dared resist him at this point, with their bodies naked as jays, and the lust on him absolutely violent.
She smiled. "I think you are ready to do all sorts of violent things to me if I resist you?"
He grinned. "Yes. You must do a mind thing to know that."
She glanced down at his bullcock, quivering with insatiable desire. "I'm not reading your mind!"
He had to laugh, even though he felt insanely clumsy, standing that distance from her, unable suddenly to touch her because she had laid the freeze down on him.
"It's this." She turned her delicious ass to him, and walked to the bed, and he watched the rhapsody of her ass move, wanting to ravish it instantly. "I have to make a confession to you. Actually, I don't feel very sexy. But it has nothing to do with you. It has to do with a certain game that I have to play in order to feel sexy."
"What game?" It did not startle Arnold to hear this, for he was knowledgeable in the ways of sex, and knew of the weird hang-ups of some women. He wondered suddenly if she had some sado-masochistic thing. Ah, the sporting life! Her green eyes were on him, and now they seemed to glint with the fire of sex as she thought of what would turn her on.
"I would like you to tie me to the bed. My hands and my feet. Use your belt, your laces, anything. Make me your victim. Then command me to do anything to you. For you. Anything! And if I resist you, you have to spank me. To beat my ass! Have I made myself clear? Are you willing to play this game? You may not care for it. Then we can get dressed and forget we ever happened together!"
Arnold understood what she had in mind from the very first word. She was into bondage, and wanted to be gently roughed up. In his investigations into the game of vice, tie had discovered some of the ungentle games that sex led its players.
He found the idea delectable, because he theorized that it catered to the male need to be dominant, to get the female to go slavey! A more enchanting idea could not have occurred to him. But the last girl that he expected such an offer from was this enchantress from England, known everywhere for her fiery independence, for her unique free-wheeling life style. That was what staggered him, but his was not to question why, but to enjoy.
He got hold of his belt, and used his shoelaces, actually, and his tie, and had her arms pinned apart, and her thighs spread apart, with her cunt showing for rapine and pillage!
After he had her bound like this, helpless, horrendously at his mercy, he swaggered in front of her, as he imagined some Nazi swine might in front of a female victim, and he swore at her. "Okay, bitch. I'm going to use every inch of your body. I want instant obedience, or I'll whip your ass till it turns blue. Do you understand?"
Oh, she understood, for her face went pale with fear, as if he would pluck off her tits, one at a time, if she dared disobey. But deep in the green eyes, a new sex fire had lit up that was not there before. She really dug being helpless, being at his mercy.
He brought his swollen cock to within an inch of her beautiful mouth. "Now, bitch, suck my cock. And do it now!"
Instantly, she opened her mouth, took his cock into it, and started to suck on it. She did it, as if deliberately slowly, and without any passion.
He pulled his cock out in a phony rage, untied her legs swiftly, raised her legs, so that her ass was out, her plump, beautiful cheeks of her ass, pink beauties, and he whacked them with his open palm. He whacked her sharply, and hard, four times, leaving the mark of his hand on her tail!
She whimpered with the pain of it, but it did something remarkable to her. For when he got close to her, she gobbled at his cock as if she couldn't wait to get it into her mouth, and began to suck on it violently. Her tongue worked on it, and she brought it deep into her throat. She seemed fiercely turned on by the punishment.
That released a whole rash of inhibited feelings, which surged up and became alive in her. She sucked at his cock as if it were the world's most delicious pop, long, lingering mouth strokes, trying as if to swallow the beast alive, bringing it deep into her throat.
He felt the most sensational flow of pleasurable feelings. And curiously, he found the punishing of her plump ass the most delicious turn-on. Somehow, the feel of that butt under his palm, the tender, shaped white flesh against his hand did something weird to him. It sharpened his sensations, made him aware of a vague need to strike flesh, and find pleasure in it.
That, he felt, was the extraordinary charm of sex. It opened you up to self-discovery, it taught you that the frontiers of your self-knowledge were not quite as obvious as you thought them.
Until this moment, he hadn't known that he could respond to the administering of punishment, yet he did feel a sting of pleasure in pummeling her butt!
And now, he was getting a great cocksucking from her. He felt that if he stayed with it, she would soon lambaste the life out of his cock, and he craved a few other activities.
So, he pulled out his cock, and told her roughly to spread her thighs, for he was going to eat her cunt. And did she have any objection.
"Yes, I have objections, you rotten bastard," she hissed at him. "I don't want you to touch me with your mouth or any part of you!"
Her arms were tied firmly back, but he had kept her legs untied. He leaned down again, lifted her legs, to reveal her buttocks, those beautiful, fabulous buttocks, so shapely, so plump and sexy. And again, he pummeled them with his palm, hitting them at least eight times, thumping the flesh solidly.
Again she whimpered, and moaned with the pain, the delicious, poignant, passionate pain of it. it made her fiery, and excited, so that she spread her thighs, and waited for him to violate her cunt with his mouth and tongue.
And when his mouth went over her enchanting pussy lips he could tell they had got wet with the passion from his beating of her ass. She adored getting her ass whipped. It was that simple. It was her secret of sex.
If he beat her ass, she would have an orgasm. That was how she was built. It was some residue of an early sex experience, he supposed, and she had become fixed on it. He could almost predict, with certainty, that when she had been a child, some male had thrashed her to get sex, and she had fixed both ideas in her head since then, and couldn't have an orgasm until her ass got beat!
Now, he was digging his tongue into her delectable cunt, for she really had an exquisitely shaped cunt, and sweet tasting, too. He licked it, and went to the clit with his tongue, like a homing pigeon to its roost. He jiggled it and tickled it, and made mad love to it, and she groaned and moaned, begged him to stop, for it was killing her.
Then he lifted her rump, turned her over, and retied her arms again, pushed her knee under her, so that that ravishing rump was facing him, as well as the gleaming wet cunt. And he drove his dick right into her wet cunt, shoving the shaft all the way to the hilt!
She fought to keep from screaming at the impact of his cock hitting the depth of her cunt. The suddenness of it took her breath away, and the delicious pain of it thrilled her beyond words. She turned to look at him with a submissive face, her eyes glowing with ecstasy! It was quite an enchanting expression, he thought, the way she had totally dropped all that arrogant English upper-class hauteur, and was down, on her knees, sniveling because of her joy in getting her cunt roughed up.
He had an instinct now about giving her the jolts, aware that each time he did it, gave her the joyous jollies. She wanted it rough, always, wherever he could do it.
So he pumped his cock into her with savage drive, without finesse, fucking like a lion that needed a great fuck.
And then, in line with his awareness of her hunger for pain, he pulled out his cock, shifted it to the notched hole, wiggled his shaft until he got into the first inch, then started to push as hard as he could into her ass.
She turned to him, and snarled, "You bloody rotten bastard. You are the lowest bastard that ever lived!"
That did it for him, for instead of slowly pushing, he dynamited his cock into her all the way to the hilt, a sudden, tearing in, pumping his shaft to the hilt!
It almost blew her mind!
She gritted her teeth, and took it, a long long groan escaping from her lips.
It was the tightest ass he could think of, like a hard, closed fist around his cock.
So, he began to drive, furiously, in and out of her, coming all the way out with his cock, driving it in to the hilt.
She groaned like a calf getting butchered, still she pushed her ass up against his thrust, so that in spite of the seeming pain, she gloried in it. Her ass sucked on his cock, rode on it, squeezed the muscles of his cock, rode it, in fact.
And he held onto her rump, her ravishing rump, and pounded and pounded his cock in and out of her, until he felt it swell up, and go off!
It was a ripping, roaring orgasm, so intense that he had to grit his own teeth to suppress the yell that came to him.
And the cream poured into her ass, like liquid fire, so that she, too, went into whimpers, for her own cunt vibrated and quivered with its orgasm.
For her, too, it was a wild, scathing orgasm, starting in the pit of her cunt and spreading through every nerve in her organism. She felt the pleasure glow through her whole body, as if a powerful searchlight had gone on.
And she slumped down, his cock still in her as they lay together in a blissful exhaustion, feeling close because of the ultimate shared ecstasy at End of the punishing interchange.
It was as if all the phony games had finally paid off in the agony and the ecstasy of the last few moments.
They bathed and dressed, and sat down with their unfinished drinks and sipped on them, until they felt like confronting the world of the party outside.
He stared at her English correctness now, so perfectly groomed and cool looking. Again the famous Rowena, whose life style made all the gossip magazines. The Liberated Woman in the flesh, who, in her sex frenzies, insisted on being the most unliberated woman of them all, the slave who craved punishment to experience the orgasm.
So, Arnold thought, how could you explain the riddle of sex?
They went down and mixed with the others.
"I hope you didn't take offense at some of my rather brutal swearing," she said.
"I hope you didn't take offense at some of my rather brutal behavior."
She leaned forward and whispered smilingly, "It was delicious."
Chapter Ten
While Arnold and Rowena were up in the Fantasy Room, one of several on the west wing, and playing their quaint game of bondage, Mona and the blond stud, Ashton, were into a game exclusively their own.
Mona had seen Arnold pass by with Rowena, a woman she'd known in London, that time with the Welsh actor, who had a taste for light spanking. Arnold, she thought, would really enjoy himself this night, and a stab of envy went through her.
When Arnold had passed, she had been talking to Ashton, the superstar in tennis over in England, who she knew fitted into Rowena's life style.
Mona therefore felt curious, for the very reason that Ashton seemed to fascinate Rowena. He could not be an ordinary lover to nail down a woman like Rowena.
Her own intake of him was mostly that of a super-stud, a blond athlete, a hotshot tennis player who made all the big money tournaments, and who had, in fact, collected a quarter of a million in prize money last year.
As for Ashton, he was delighted to be talking with the delicious Mona Jones, one of the world celebrities. Over in England, Mona was thought of as American royalty, and Ashton, who liked to be seen with prominent people, was absolutely tickled to be talking to Mona. It put "him on a nice social level, he thought privately. He couldn't help looking closely at her delicious boobs with their nipples pushing against the purple silky shirt.
Ashton was twenty-two, at the height of his athletic power, and Mona, of course, was an easy thirty-three, he guessed. But he liked mature women, busty, well-hipped women, Mona, as everyone knew from pictures flashed nude of her, once grabbed in Australia, had one of the most exquisite bodies in the history of females. Ashton was an ardent student of the female anatomy although, when he competed he avoided all sex.
He had at least two. weeks before his next tournament, over in Wimbledon, and it gave him leeway for a few sex games.
If you were just to glance at Ashton, it would never occur to you that he was anything but a clean-Cut, clean-living athlete, and that his tastes had to be very conventional.
But actually his sex tastes were slightly off beat, as Mona suspected just from the fact that he fraternized with Rowena.
Like Rowena, he had quite an appetite for the more vigorous, even the punitive aspects of sex.
Just now, they were chatting.
"How was your tennis year, Ashton?"
"I had rather a good year, Miss Jones," he said confidently. "I took the singles in Brisbane, took second place in Dallas. But it was so blisteringly hot down there, I'm not much when it comes to play in degree heat. It's inhuman. You Americans really should control your weather better."
And he smiled his boyishly charming smile that he found always knocked out American women.
Mona was a bit impressed, but mostly because he looked like superstud. He had this hefty chest with blond hairs, and a rather powerful set of shoulders. He seemed to fit more, by his appearance, into the rugged American mold.
She couldn't help picture him nude and with a probably stalwart cock.
"You're into Wimbledon this season, aren't you."
"Wouldn't miss it."
"What do you think of our number one boy in tennis? He thinks he's going to take Wimbledon."
"He's a loud-mouthed egotist, in my opinion. We'll have to see what happens. Tennis is a funny game. Unless you are absolutely right in all things, you can really flip out. You can be off, just a bit off, and your whole game goes to pot."
He seemed very earnest in his discussion of the game and she found it charming.
They picked up martinis off a tray offered them, and chatted a bit more.
Finally, she asked, "Is tennis your only sport?" Her eyes hit him straight, so they could be no vagueness.
"In season, it is Mona." He sipped his drink looking directly into her eyes. "Otherwise, I rather like the indoor sport. Quite a lot, in fact."
"I would suspect that, the way you look."
"How do I look, Mona?"
"Like a hungry tiger."
He grinned. "Well, perhaps you bring out the tiger in me, Mona."
"I should like to see that," She said, smiling, and looking deliberately at his bunch-up.
The message was unmistakable, and Ashton's super-shaft went into its super hardening, making his pants bulky.
"Have you seen the west wing?" she asked. "I think you might find it very interesting."
"I'd love to see the west wing."
She took him to one of the Fantasy Rooms modeled in a Roman style at the period of its most colorful decadence.
The door shut behind them, and the bolt sprang automatically.
"I have you now, my proud beauty," he said, feeling his cock straining for its target.
"I don't know who has who," she smiled.
He went into a fast hard clinch, pulling her tight, and grinding his cock against her crotch as he kissed her.
"Mmm," she said, more from contact with that noble beast whose pulsations she could feel through his fine cotton slacks.
His hands were all over her breasts, through the open shirt, and he pulled on her erect nipples with his fingers. And then his hand went down to her zipper, which he opened, and he got his finger into her pussy, finding it wet and juicy.
"You do have a lovely cunt," he said. "Shall we undress?"
Mona was amused at his cool as they undressed, amused at his English charm, then-in almost wide-eyed admiration at the size of his cock, a bristling, bulky slab of meat with a fiery head that seemed urgent about its target.
"You do have a lovely cock," she said politely.
He stared at her, and his eyes narrowed, almost with hostility.
"I would like you to eat the monster." His voice was surprisingly hard.
"Not quite, my lad," she said, naturally expecting a more delicate approach to the charms of sexual dalliance.
She was not at that moment aware of Ashton's real personality in the bedroom, which emerged with brutal force.
His eyes became steely, his mouth became a hard, thin line, and he grabbed her, pulled her over to the bed unceremoniously, pulled her over his lap, so that her luscious butt was up, and smartly slapped her ass with his palm five times, sharp, vicious slaps. And during it, he ground his ponderous prick into her pussy.
To say this shocked Mona was putting it mildly, because Mona could not conceive of such a vulgar punishing violation of her person. After all, her social antecedents were impeccable, her name was a household word for glamour, and she had been married to one of the world's richest men.
Still, and in spite of all that, this English lout, so blond and clean-cut, had the nerve to lambaste her ass!
Her first impulse was to cry out, then lash out, then to rip at his face with her fingernails.
"When I tell you to eat my cock, you do it, my fine lady, or you'll get your ass really whipped." His accents were so precisely British, yet the words seemed to come out of a 'degenerate' sadomasochistic creep!
Mona then thought of Rowena, and the whispers that she got her kicks from light kinky sadism. Well, this blond stud had been her bedmate before, and he apparently had developed the taste for brutal sex.
Up to now, Mona had not seen any particular pleasure in going through pain to find an orgasm, but she was not a woman who closed her mind to variations in the bedroom.
Apparently, she thought, he wanted a submissive female, one he could punish if she did not play the bondage game. Well, she would try it, and if it did not please her, she would tell him to stop or she just might literally eat his cock, leaving him just the stump!
Thinking like this, she said. "All right, Ashton, I am ready now."
"You bet your sweet ass, you bitch. And don't give me any sauciness. Do what you're told, or I'll turn your ass purple."
With her tail still smarting from his spanking, she slipped down on her knees, in front of him, and put her world-famous face over his burly monster of a cock.
And she began to suck.
Mona, it has been reported here, had some artistry to her mouthwork, for she had in her time sucked some of the distinguished cocks, but she hadn't quite got started with Ashton, when this little tennis turd began to complain.
"C'mon, you bitch, get on the stick. Really suck. Get it down your throat or I'll ram it down."
And then, grabbing her head with his two hands, he began to pump his cock into her mouth, pulling her head back and forth for more pleasure.
She felt herself totally violated by this brat, but at the same time an electric current of passion streaked through her cunt.
It was such a violent unexpected turn-on, that it could only come from his brutal treatment of her! He drove his bristling, beastly cock deep into her throat so that she thought he was halfway down her esophagus.
"Get your tongue working, bitch," he snarled.
Then, before she even realized her own activities, she had grabbed his cock and was eating it more ferociously than any other in her vast experience. It was a savage onslaught of thrills ripping through her cunt that motivated her. Where the thrills came from mystified her. She suspected it had to be his stupid sadistic slashing at her. Somehow it had released a hidden side of her personality that really gloried in humiliation!
She was stupefied, even as she frantically let him fuck her throat with his cock. She had always before this thought of herself as the arrogant partner in sex coupling, and nothing in her bedroom experience had contradicted it.
But here she was behaving like a slave to this tennis twerp, eating his cock like he was King Kong.
It was strange, it was bizarre, in fact, but she loved it, because of the excruciating sex tingles that she got from it in her cunt!
As for Ashton, he grabbed her head and started to hump her mouth with hard, hammering thrusts. He would teach this snotty American bitch what kind of a game she was in. He had his theory about certain woman. The more snotty they acted, the more sinister you treated them, because all that snootiness was a disguise for the very opposite feeling they were trying to smother. They had powerful slavish urges, and they needed to give expression to them. Only the brutal treatment would bring it out, especially if you gave to them suddenly, caught them off guard, before they had time to mobilize their defenses.
Women like Mona, he suspected from the beginning, had a deep streak of masochism, needed a burly slob like him, to put them in contact with it. Ultimately, they went crazy with joy, though at first, they acted outraged.
He had learned this years ago, by luck, with a snotty daughter of a duke, whose blood was pure blue, and whose ass was all white, who had to be spanked before she could even begin to enjoy sex.
He did not do this sort of thing with all women, just special ones, who didn't even know, at the time, that they craved humiliation, wanted to be slaves, wanted to be abused, even though they showed that superior front to the world.
He had tasted that feeling the moment that he met Rowena, knew that in spite of her fiery liberated front, a part of her yearned to be spanked.
It was hilarious to Ashton, and he found that he got some fine kicks from it himself, since his natural instinct was dominating. The same push that he experienced in tennis, fighting for every point, frantic to win, struggling for mastery over a competitor-that same push fed his pleasure for acting brutally in the bed.
He looked down at, her now, the magnificent Mona, with her mouth doing everything she could to please him. She had got down on his balls and was working on them lovingly, then back to the shaft, licking it, then stuffing his cock deep deep into her throat, as if she had to swallow the whole thing, holding his balls.
He felt his cock tense up, a purple swollen brute in her mouth, as it suddenly enlarged and exploded, the cream pouring into her mouth, against her throat, and she holding it deep, firmly, so that he could see the swallowing muscles of her throat as she gulped all his cream, never losing a drop!
She had performed right, holding onto his cock as it poured more juice into her, holding it until it softened, keeping it there, licking it submissively, for she was admitting the power flowed from his phallus, and her pleasure came from pleasing it.
She would not make a move until he finally put his hand on her head, indicating that she had done okay. Then she looked up at him, like a dog might for a kind word from its master.
"You did okay," he said, and gave her his sporting, gracious smile, the one he put out on the courts after he had slaughtered his opponent.
Mona felt exquisitely light-hearted and totally fulfilled, for she had had an incredible orgasm when he came.
And she was thinking that she would have to try the spanking routine with Arnold sometime soon.
After that, they took a shower, soaping each other with a thick lather. They pierced all the passionate apertures for total cleansing.
Then they went back to the bed and gave her cunt a marvelous tongue lashing, for he was a super-athlete, so that even his tongue had muscles. She felt a zinging rush of sensations, and when she went off, her cunt vibrated like a violin.
Then Ashton calmly sat on her face and told her to lick his ass and do a good job or else!
Ashton thought it a real trick when he felt her tongue go into his tail, for there was something pleasingly sexy sitting on Mona and hex famous face, and to have her titillate the nerves of his ass with her tongue. Something she did brilliantly.
Snotty cunts should have their tongues up a guy's tail, Ashton thought, for he was a real male chauvinist.
She got her tongue in deep, spreading his cheeks, for she yearned to do a good job, wanting to please him. He might beat her ass again, she thought, if she spited him. Her tongue snaked into his ass, and she kissed the soft velvety flesh with passion.
She found herself astonished at the intensity with which she responded to his brutal directions, and the way that she teamed up with his games, totally eager to participate.
He made her feel young, with his twenty-two-year-old body, hard as iron, beautifully trained down from his years of tennis.
He made her feel like a teenager, and when he finally turned around, and put his big, burly cock in her cunt, she heaved a sigh of pure ecstasy.
His giant slab of meat stuffed her cunt marvelously and the nerves of pleasure quivered with joy as his cock slid in and out of her, especially when he felt the tingles begin to start.
He grabbed her ass, held it firmly as he drove his cock deep into her cunt, while she gyrated her ass, her cunt sucking at his cock, with squeezed muscles.
When he went off in her, she felt the scads of juice flow hotly in the depths of her cunt, which again sent her into an orgasm.
She grabbed his hard, sinewy body about the waist and pressed him to her breasts.
"You're a marvelous lover, Ashton," she murmured.
And Ashton smiled, thinking that the snotty bitches all loved him, because they loved his abuse.
Women are weird birds, he thought.
Chapter Eleven
When Mona came downstairs, alone, of course, so that there would not be tedious talk, she saw Arnold over with his old Harvard buddy, Tom Woodbridge.
She sauntered toward them, with her usual grace, lighting a cigarette on the way, while Arnold, studied her, pretending to listen to Tom.
He could see in an instant that she had gone through a hectic but heavenly ordeal, and he felt annoyed. In spite of his desire to give her total freedom in the gentle game of sex variety, he found sometimes a spot of ugliness rise in his mind. For one thing, he didn't care for her companion, Ash ton, a tennis egotist who played vicious competitive style in tournaments. And further, he didn't like the fact that Ashton was damned young and hefty of muscle. He was, Arnold thought a muscle freak as a kid, who lifted weights and loved to caress his muscles in the mirror.
He shook his head, trying to free his mind from the stupid malicious trend of thought. Arnold tried to-be honest with himself, and he had to recognize that he was going through, a streak of jealousy mostly because of the fact that Mona looked so bombed out by her experience. She probably will tell me that she had the most heavenly experience with a young stud whose iron cock never tired.
Arnold had few doubts about his own powerful sex drive, and knew that he could turn on women with the best of them. There were many women who had told him in the past that his sex was the best in their lives. And he knew, too, that Mona adored his cock and his lustful taste for sex with her.
But the glimpse of something different in her eyes told him that Ashton had got into a private corner, somehow, hit a magic button that sent Mona zooming out of sight.
It pissed him off that a pubescent little creep like Ashton would do it to her, and he wondered what the magic was. Arnold would never suspect Mona of getting turned on by spanking. He didn't dream that she would respond to it, because of her dignity, her great sense of hauteur. She craved equality in the bedroom, he figured, so even though he put Ashton together with Rowena, and suspected that they did a gentle dance of violence in their fuckings, he could not think that Mona would fit into the bondage picture.
Then how could you explain that glow? For Mona walked along as if she had a halo coming out of her flesh and surrounding her head!
He turned to Tom, and tried to concentrate on what his boss was saying. But Tom was still bullshitting about a leak in Washington about the bribe money, and that some stool pigeon had spilled the beans about how the Hawks Holding Corporation was getting its business.
"They don't understand that business is done like that overseas. They think we're immoral. I tell you, Arnold, there are a lot of pointy heads in Washington who have no idea of the real world. We got to defend ourselves against the pointy heads!"
Arnold was bored with Tom's fears, and thought he was fighting shadows. "I suspect it's a political red herring, Tom. It won't come to anything."
By that time, Mona had reached them, and Tom grinned at her, ear to ear. "Ah, Mona, the most beautiful woman in this room!" He kissed her on her cheek, and took her hands. Woodbridge always had a private lust for Mona, but knew it would never happen, not only because Arnold was a key man in his company, but because Mona did not respond to him. He sensed it, and he was never wrong in his intuitions. But she looked particularly radiant at this moment, and he enjoyed looking at her.
He liked the fact that Arnold had snared Mona, for she had been in the world headlines for ten years. It looked good on his business roster that one of his men had captured a celebrity like her.
It added a glamorous dimension to his business, which was pure money. "What's got you shining like this, Mona?" Mona looked at Arnold, and his �yes told her he was displeased.
"It's seeing two splendid men," she said, kissing Tom on his cheek. "It's compliments like that that make a woman glow."
It's dirty sex that makes some women glow, Arnold thought. And he looked even mote annoyed.
Some of the guests were waving at Tom so he hurried to join them.
"I see that you've been playing tennis in the west wing," he said maliciously.
She shrugged. "Is it all that visible? I'm sorry."
"What's he got? A twelve-inch cock? Or a smashing forehand."
"He's a smashing sort of fellow, if you must know. But I think you're making jealous noises. I really didn't think you did that sort of thing?"
Arnold bit his lip, vexedly. Actually, he was displeased with himself for being jealous. It was a childish emotion. And he had no cause for it, since he had just come himself from the hot cunt, of Rowena.
"What's sauce for the goose," she was saying. "It isn't as if you didn't play some rowdy games with Rowena! You're behaving like a male chauvinist."
"It's a stupid hangover from my childhood, darling. Let it pass."
"Let's drink one more for the road, then go home, darling," she said, smiling at him.
They got hold of two martinis. "You have to realize darling, that one game doesn't make a set. I was just playing around. It was a bit of different fun. And I think you might like the game."
"The bondage game?"
She was surprised. "Ah, then you know."
"It's not hard to put together, since Ashton and Rowena are playmates."
"It's odd how much you can discover about yourself In the throes of sex," she said, thinking of Ashton.
"Yes," And he thought of Rowena, and decided that Mona, after all, did respond to spanking, and that he would introduce it to their erotic games very soon.
Chapter Twelve
It was at least a week after the Woodbridge party and Arnold had been settling in at Southampton, getting in the groove of home life.
What astonished him mostly was the magnificent flowering of Anita. Something had obviously happened to the heavenly little chick, with, her green eyes and enchanting rump.
She seemed to have lost the halo of innocence that was her chief quality before. She had, of course, the purity of the young, but a touch of sophistication had altered her in some subtle way.
And Arnold, always the shrewd observer of the human scene, couldn't help notice the glances that went on between his son Bert and Anita. The glance had nothing behind it but a bawdy time in the bedroom.
Arnold's first feelings were a cold anger at Bert for exploiting a captive bird in the house, but later, he considered that a roistering cocksmith like Bert could scarcely handle the temptation of sweet Anita's butt in a daily parade around the house. The boy was only human, even though he was eighteen.
Well, Arnold thought-with the philosophic calm that was his distinctive trait in a world where he had cynically come to expect that people ultimately behaved wickedly-if Anita had to lose her virtue, where better than under his roof?
There was no point in expecting Bert to behave like a monk when a juicy little cunt like Anita romped around him most of the day and night. The kid was horny and had a horrendous sex drive, as Arnold knew, for he was a chip off the old block. Arnold remembered with clarity his own adolescence, and the time he had chastened his relentless hards that kept happening to him, day and night, especially in the neighborhood of nubile maidens.
What struck him particularly about the new Anita was the way that she looked at him, Arnold, as if seeing him differently from before. Before, her look was that of a childish adoration for the protective uncle.
Now, her look was of a maiden at a man who she found provocative. She had become a sexy little minx, even though she radiated a lot of innocence. She had the curious blend of looking like an innocent sixteen-year-old with the ageless sophistication of a female who has discovered the delicate pleasures of sex.
She had become keenly interested in photography, and he told her he would get her a Nikon soon. When he indicated that he would be driving into New York on Saturday she asked if it might be a good time to get the camera, and that she'd love to come in with him.
So she hopped into the Continental alongside him, and they drove into town, to Peerless, where he picked up a Nikon and a roll of film for her.
She was tickled to death with her new toy, and wanted instantly to get around for some shooting.
They went into the park and the zoo, where she aimed her camera at the great tiger with his black and orange stripes, and his great balls, and that ferocious face.
He looked the epitome of the carnivorous male, and somehow that fascinated Anita. She found such males very interesting, and to her mind, of course, Arnold fitted into such a picture. He was, to her, like that tiger, mature, fully grown, tough, scarred from the wars, and a super-ball carrier.
Naturally, she didn't say anything of this to him, for she couldn't help feeling a touch shy in his presence. He was her mysterious uncle, the whiz kid whose exploits made family history. But she had a lot of private thoughts about him, and often wondered what kind of sex he and Mona had. She had been looking more closely at his body, at the way his meat bunched up in his pants, and it made goose pimples on her skin. In her bolder moments, she even visualized him in an erotic scene with her, bending over breasts, kissing them. She could see herself, in fact, caressing his cock, and felt wild tingles in her pussy.
It was strange that she could feel such a wild surge of sex for an older man, but this was the fact. She never dreamed however that he would show any interest in a kid like her, so she stayed low-key in her fantasies.
They were out near the Plaza, and it was a very gay scene with the flags flying, the Victorian coaches and their picturesque coachmen, and Fifth Avenue, with its fashionable shops. It was a lovely summer day, and people were in a sunny mood as they paraded up and down the Avenue.
Everyone looked delightful to her, and it didn't take long for her to shoot her film.
Then Arnold took her to the Auto Pub, where they had lunch, during which they drank some liquor. The low, intimate lights, and the amusing automotive decor, and the gin and tonics all did a lot to unloosen Anita.
"I never thanked you enough, Arnold, for taking me into your home. For taking care of me," she said fervently.
"It was the right thing to do, honey," he said, thinking that the family, in the person of Bert was more than just taking care of her. He had probably launched her into the world of love, the little selfish bastard. Arnold wondered if he had copped her cherry, thinking that he undoubtedly had. He visualized the scene, for he had a very active erotic imagination, and the picture of Bert piercing Anita's tight virginal pussy, and the pleasure of splitting the hymen gave him a real spasm of jealousy and lust.
She was no longer virginal, and therefore, there was no further point in playing the role of the protector. Obviously, there was nothing to protect. And since she had already tasted the delights of copulation, Arnold decided, she should expand her frontiers with a man of the world, such as himself.
Looking now at the glowing green eyes, the shape of her tits, the luminous youth of her white skin, and that totally delicious young mouth, Arnold went into a sensual tizzy. The fumes of alcohol in his brain let loose the tiger in him, and he decided to take the plunge.
His office on Park Avenue, just a couple of blocks away, was practically deserted on Saturday, and a great scene for seduction.
"I have to get a few things together at my office, so well go there, Anita," he said, calling for the check.
As anticipated, the office was deserted, and his own superbly decorated private office was indeed a charming background for bawdy goings-on. It had a Picasso on the wall, a thick blue rug, handsome furniture, and a marvelous wide lounge which he could convert to a bed if he wanted to relax or stay over in the city.
He fixed a couple of gins and they sat together, sipping the booze, after he went through the motions of collecting some papers.
"You must lead a fascinating life, Arnold, with your trips to the great cities of the world."
"It can get boring. Traveling has its hassles," he said. "But at times it can be amusing." The picture of the harem experience slid into his mind, and he smiled.
She picked up the expression, and like any canny female, understood it as sexual. "I suppose you meet all sorts of exciting women. And they throw themselves at you,"
"Why would they do that?" He smiled at her.
"Because they would see you as a very fascinating man."
"Do you see me as that?"
"Of course. Any woman would."
He grinned. "Well, you're not quite a woman."
Her expression went a touch wicked. "Well, I'm not quite a girl, either."
He sipped his drink, looking at the way her tight slacks followed the sensual contours of her hips. She had a fabulous body, on its way to maturity, and if he were clever he could have it nude in this office very shortly. The idea started a hardening in his cock, and it spelled doom for the delicious Anita.
"No, I suspect that you aren't a girl anymore. You have probably gone-past that tender time of innocence."
"Just between us, Arnold, innocence is boring. Innocence, in my opinion, is just inexperience, and that can be so terribly dull. I believe that a girl should open herself to life and to experience. As the poet says, 'time is flying.' "
He had to laugh, for in her subtle way, it seemed she was making a pitch for a passionate move.
"Would you like to open yourself to my experience?"
Her green eyes glittered with a sudden sex fire at the thought of Arnold in an erotic tangle with her, him nude. His cock and balls, nude, right here with her. Her cunt went moist with the juices of love at the image.
She stood up and walked to the window to look down on Park Avenue at the flow of cars, but she knew that the slacks were tight around her buttocks, and she moved them provocatively so that he would get his answer.
His eyes lustfully followed the movement of sexy butt, and that tipped him over.
He followed her, his cock hard in his pants, and moved close behind her as she looked down, pressing his hard cock against the crevice of her ass.
She never flinched one bit; in fact, she moved back as if to be closer to that super-load of flesh, thrilling to its tremendous hardness. It was the subtle signal that he needed, and Anita was no longer his little niece, but a woman, a young girl, a sex prey, someone to undress, to caress, to pierce, to have carnal fun with.
He put his arms around her waist and brought his hands up to her breasts, holding them firmly in his palms. The shock of her delicious tits in hands really turned him on. Everything about this experience seemed to have double intensity.
She put her hands on his hands, and pressed them firmly, so that he could feel through her thin shirt the nipples erect and hard. It pained him almost to leave the warmth of her butt to turn her to him, to bring up the exquisite young face, the lips like young spring leaves, to his mouth for kissing.
There was springtime to her breath, to the freshness of her lips, and when her mouth opened so that its tongue came forth, there was the touch of fire when he brought his own tongue out.
They kissed again and long, their bodies pressing fiercely together while the passions built high, then he opened her shirt to grab the bare pear-shaped breast in his mouth.
Over and over, each time that he made contact with her flesh, the impact of her youth hit him with overpowering excitement. The silken smoothness of her breast, the honeyed taste of her nipple, the flawless shape of it as his mouth in its greed tried to engulf it all.
He got off her shirt, and went for both breasts, moving from one to the other, as if he could never get enough for his mouth and tongue, and then he unzipped her slacks and pulled them down with the panties.
She stepped out of them, and there she stood nude, a nymph of exquisite design, round white arms, shapely legs, a sensual curve of hip, and then golden hair sheltering the pink pussy.
She's the epitome of the springtime of sex, he thought, and I aim autumn. For she was sixteen and he was in his forties.
We men of forty deserve such feasts on occasion, he thought, to fire up the dulling flesh. He carried her to the big lounge, and stopped for a few moments to strip.
The size and power of his cock hypnotized Anita. It was something a bit with the contours of cock that she remembered with Bert, but a more prodigious thing. The cock in its maturity-fierce, thick-muscled, with pumping veins and the helmet-like head.
Anita's throat ached for it, but as a young girl she understood that she could not be aggressive. She had to wait for him, and follow his lead, even though her urge was to stuff his great cock into her mouth, to suck on it.
Arnold took her palm and put it under his cock, watching the hand close automatically around the meat and press it firmly. The heat of his cock and the hard muscle seemed heavenly to her touch, and she went almost shaky in the knees. He pressed his hard chest against her bare breasts, enjoying their plump flesh.
He laid her down on the lounge, spread her thighs, and brought his head to her golden pussy, the pink scarlet lips moist with the elixir of love. He spread the lips apart, and put his mouth against the flesh, snaking his tongue into the moist warmth. He found the taste of her flesh delicious, and his tongue started a staccato of motion, darting in and out of her cunt, hitting the clit over and over.
He glanced up over her flat tummy and her swelling breasts to her face, in a transport of ecstasy, as the tempo of his tongue thrusts increased, and she went off, her cunt quivering frantically with a poignant and painful ecstasy.
She held his head fiercely against her cunt, as if she wanted him never to leave that spot of pleasure.
She groaned and twisted her body as spasms of joy racked her. And Arnold, aware that now she was ready for anything, brought his bristling, big cock up to her mouth.
She grasped it greedily, and brought it into her mouth, down into his throat, her tongue caressing it like dynamite. She was in the throes of a sizzling passion, and she craved his cock deep inside her. She would, if she could, swallow the monster, so precious was its taste, its smell, its me hardness, its oral delight.
She came out for a breath of air, then along its muscled shaft, went down to the balls, licked them, took each into her mouth, tenderly loving them with her tongue, then went back up to the head of his cock, pulling on it, sucking it and licking it and fluttering her tongue under it.
Arnold looked down at her in amazement, at her sweet innocent sixteen-year-old face, all fresh beauty and innocence, yet working on his cock with all the finesse of a seasoned hooker.
Where had she acquired such cocksucking skill? Her innocence, then, was just a visual illusion, for since she had come to his house, apparently, she had discovered the delights of cocksucking, and developed master skills.
She aroused such a flood of pleasurable sensations that there was nothing left for him to do but stay in that oral pit of pleasure until the finale of cum.
So he took gentle hold of her head and started a slow and steady thrust in and out of her mouth, which she met with flawless rhythm.
He was sitting on her breasts now, holding his head, pushing deep into her throat with his prodigious tool. He felt it swelling, as the juice started its agony-ecstasy trip through his shaft, exploding in her mouth, spurting one load of cream after another. And she struggled to keep up with it, trying to swallow it.
He pulled his cock out of her mouth, for she f' needed a moment or she would gag, and the cream still covered his tool. She took one deep breath, then took his cock back to her lips and licked it off clean, her face in an absolute agony of delight.
She's either a born cocksucker or Bert has taught her brilliantly, Arnold thought. And he slumped down alongside her to rest, exhausted by the intensity of the experience.
They lay there close together, their bodies pressed tightly, their eyes closed.
Then Arnold, feeling that it would not be discreet to spend more time at the office, decided to pursue her pussy at home, where the pressures were less. And more than that, he could use the rest.
On the way back, driving in the evening dusk, he was silent, letting the music from the stereo fill the car.
Then she spoke, and her voice was small. "Are you disappointed in me, Uncle Arnold."
Because she had some fear, she used the word uncle, formalizing the relationship.
He took her hand and squeezed it. "Why would you think such a strange thing?"
"I don't know. You're very quiet. And perhaps you think I have too much experience for a young girl?"
"I see that you can be quite silly."
"What do you mean?"
"I find you totally adorable. And I think it's marvelous that you have such sexy skills. It can only increase the pleasure. Nothing is so tiresome as a clumsy, inexperienced bed companion."
She brightened. "Then you enjoyed it?"
"Pure joy," he said, gripping her hand, then putting it over his cock in his pants.
"That, too, is pure joy, Arnold," she said passionately.
"Listen, when we get home, naturally, our behavior will be very correct. But tonight, around two, I'll pay you a visit. After all, Anita sweet, we haven't yet fucked. There are other charming games to be played."
"I look forward to that," she said fervently.
The traffic was thin, and he could spend a long moment staring at her marvelous young beauty, and congratulating himself for his luck.
While he could appreciate a beautiful and mature woman, still, Arnold thought, there could be nothing to duplicate the delight of fucking young dolls. They were a marvelous turn-on. They made a man feel twenty years younger, as if contact with the youthful flesh was a blissful contagion.
Who was that old man in the Bible who needed a young virgin to heat up the fires in him, to unchill his old flesh? It had much truth to it. And how stupid, Arnold thought, were the taboos against love between the old and the young. They should pass laws that insisted a young doll or stud should spend some time with the older generation in sexual coupling, just for its vitalizing powers.
All sorts of taboos spoiled the pleasures of life, Arnold thought, even such as uncle and niece. What possible harm could come from such coupling? The concept of incest had collapsed with the invention of contraception. Pregnancy no longer had any viable connection with copulation. Copulation, Arnold thought was a game. Pregnancy was a serious family decision.
At any rate, Arnold felt no guilt about his fuck with his niece, and contemplated future sex with lustful pleasure.
Just before they readied the house, she reached over and kissed his cheek. "We had such fun this afternoon," she whispered.
She was really a marvelous sex kitten, Arnold thought, and considered himself lucky.
Chapter Thirteen
That night at the Jones's house was surely a curious one. For Bert had got onto a very sexy novel that put his cock into a hellish stew. A friend had lent him one of the great Victorian underground sex novels, and somehow it reached him in the raunchiest way, with its tales of serving wenches and whippings and despoiling of innocent maidens, of wicked, delicately depraved lords, and their ruthless pursuit of luscious young girls.
Somehow Bert had read Anita into the stories, so that he had built up quite a lust for her body by nightfall, and kept caressing his cock in anticipation of a fun-filled evening.
He was somewhat annoyed that she had gone into the city with his dad, and delighted when they came home for dinner. He managed to tell her, clandestinely of course, that he had a hefty cock and a new trick that he wanted to try that night.
Anita however knew that Arnold was planning a visit that night, and she told Bert that unfortunately it was her time of the month.
She rather hated to do that to Bert, for she adored the vigor of his cock, but the new excitement of Arnold and the promise of a fuck with the master of the house was more persuasive.
"I might be all right tomorrow night, Bert, darling," she said.
"Dammit. Why can't you control that sort of thing?" he growled, for he was very disgruntled. He had been visualizing a night heavy with cunt and cock, and it threw him into a lousy temper.
It annoyed Anita, and she murmured. "So sorry to inconvenience you." Although she was invariably sweet, her tone had a touch of malice.
So Bert felt bad and apologized. "It's just that I was all juiced up about you. Oh, well, I suppose I can sweat out another night."
As for Mona, she scarcely noticed any of this, her mind mostly on the fabulous new pants suit that Mister Zero, the sensational new designer, had created just for her. She planned to wear it at the Charity Ball next week, and thought about the commotion it would make. Mister Zero would have the fashion editors and photographers around to make sure they got shots of her wearing his new design. These photos would appear in the national press, and Mona could think of several women who would go green with envy, for they fancied themselves foremost in fashion.
Mona loved fashion, and knew that her taste had often started fads. She enjoyed that, and if Arnold had not been a rich man, he would have been quite annoyed at the way she spent money on fashion.
So she spent much time that evening on the one, talking to some friends, to Mister Zero, and finally reading a gossip magazine that featured a few zingy capers she had performed lately in the social world.
Arnold watched the Yankees play a night baseball game for a while, then turned to a horror movie. He liked light escape from the dull cares of the business world. His library was loaded with a wealth of intellectual books, but there came a time when he craved visual escape by watching the most mindless TV.
His mind kept turning back to the afternoon, to his bawdy time at the office with Anita. It seemed so unreal now, yet he knew that late that night he would be in her bedroom for a follow-up fuck. He felt a subtle tension about it, not only for the excitement of splitting her luscious cunt, but the tingle of danger, doing it under his own roof!
Danger always added spice to a sexual combat, he realized, which was why he had suggested her bedroom. It could have been easier and safer at a motel, but there was something delightful about the threat of discovery.
He smiled to himself, visualizing Anita in her bed, and himself sneaking in, like a thief in the night, to get to her young cunt. He thought of her luscious body, and the lust made his cock harden. That was the charming bit about sex with a young doll-it made you hornier, and therefore it increased your pleasure.
He had not known of this trick of love with young girls before limiting himself to women of Mona's age. He thought, in fact, it was unmanly to pick up a little chippie instead of a grown woman. But he had now changed his mind about all that.
Especially now, having got into his forties, the feeling came strongly over him that girls of that age would become even more exciting as time crept on for him.
It seemed to him true that youth was an infection, and that it passed from the springtime of a girl to the autumn of a man. In other words, a young cunt made an old hard grow young!
So, when at last, he went into his room, he could scarcely wait until Mona got thoroughly to sleep, and it annoyed him that she should stay up and read. Well, he wouldn't go over to her bedroom until two anyway, to be sure that Mona got into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile, Bert had picked up his Victorian dirty novel, and was having some blistering times reading the bawdy scenes. It got his cock up so hard again that he decided that he would invade Anita's bed and maybe he could induce a fuck in the derriere.
He hated to press in matters of sex, but his cock was absolutely livid with lust, and he just had to get it off.
He read a bit more of how the serving wench with a bouncy white ass submitted to the master's obsession to whip it. The old pervert, it seemed, liked to put the birch to the girl's round bottom as a preface to getting off.
For some reason, Bert got all excited about this, but instead of wanting to beat Anita's bottom, he wanted to fuck it.
So finally he laid the book down and examined his watch. It was one A.M., a good time to make a quiet entrance to her bedroom.
He listened carefully at the door, heard nothing, and slipped down silently to Anita's door, turned the knob, and went in.
Although she had been dozing, she did awake at his entrance, especially when he slipped into the bed alongside her. She imagined it to be Arnold, and she almost used his name.
The sight of Bert, however, gave her quite a jolt, and she glanced swiftly at the clock to see it was one, an hour before she expected Arnold.
"What is it, Bert? I've told you that I'm just not in the mood tonight."
He put his hands over her plump tits lovingly, and snaked his hard cock up against her bottom.
"I know, I know, Anita. But I just can't sleep with this monster hard between my legs. I felt it belongs between yours. And I know that you've got the curse. But please, please, Anita, let me stuff it up your ass! I'll go crazy with this hunk of meat bothering me all night." And he put her hand over his swollen big cock.
Anita at first was determined to drive him of her bed, but she was a sweet, gentle with a tender heart for the sex-crazed male, especially if he put such a monstrous piece of meat in her hand.
Her hard resolution melted completely, and she squeezed his great cock, to signify that she would be willing to play a game.
She did, after all, have some time before the master of the house would come to her bed. Unless, of course, he appeared off schedule.
By this time Bert was caressing her plump breasts and found the nipples erect, so he knew she was responding to him.
They love the big meat, Bert thought, and he whipped under her, to lick at her nipples, to get her grooving still more.
"I'm very sleepy, Bert, so I hope you won't mind if I ask you to hurry."
"Sure, darling." He was delighted that she hadn't tossed him out, and went into a private fantasy, that he was the master in a Victorian house, and that Anita was his wench, and he had come to her bed to perform a few passionate tricks on her tender young body. In his mind he acted the master and said aloud. "All right, you shameless young tart, put your pretty lips where they belong and do give me a bawdy suck off."
Anita scowled. "Have you gone bananas?"
"Goddammit," he growled. "It's a line right out of Victorian Vagina."
His dirty novel, she was thinking. Bert had a trick of working you into his fantasy life without telling you about it.
She smiled because it seemed a big male thing, putting the female into some hot dream. Oddly, she didn't mind fitting in. Anita liked to fit into the male dream, since she had to keep his cock hard. It took a hard cock for a girl to get her heavenly lumps.
Thinking this, she said in tones she thought suitable for a serving wench. "Yes, your young lordship, whatever you desire." She bent low and took his torrid tool between her lips, gave it a few frantic lickings, did a clever dance; with her tongue under the head, then stopped.
She well knew the nasty little stud would get carried away and want her to mouth his cock to the creamy explosion.
Therefore, she turned her plump, curving tail now turgid cock, as a gentle, reminder of how he managed to get in her bed.
It took just the touch of her silky mounds to put the flame on Bert, for he thought then of her asshole, that tight pit of love that could squeeze his cock to the frenzies.
So now he dug between her cheeks, his cock in a sweat to get to its tight target. He snuggled into the pit, pushed it in, felt the circling warmth and a streak of pleasure.
He pushed her, turning her so she was on her stomach, got his cock in deeper and deeper, then, holding hard to her creamy mounds, he started ins and outs.
Her tight ass was a canal of joy, especially when he buried his cock to the hilt, feeling his balls jangling against her buttocks.
It's obscene, it's dirty, it's delicious, he thought as he got into the rhythm of fucking.
And Anita, feeling his hard shaft inside her ass, quivered with pleasure. She liked to be fucked in the ass for it gave another delicious dimension to sex. She could feel the hard meat of him penetrate her hot canal, turning on a lot of nerves.
She wanted him to drive into her with still more violence, and so she turned to him, her face tight with desire, and said, "Fuck me, Bert, fuck my ass off. Give me everything you've got! Don't just pat my ass. Beat it to death with your cock!"
That did it for Bert. The edge of contempt in her voice, the lust for violation, the need to get her ass raped-all of this sent him into a tailspin.
For he then began to ram and ram, pound and pound with every ounce of energy that he feeling his cock sliding in and out of the hot meat of her asshole. His cock felt like a sword that sliced into her meat, and the repeated motions kept piling one intense sensation onto another until his cock went into a giant swelling, pushing out the sides of her asshole, then exploding its hot cum. The swelling and the spurts of hot juice and his frenzied fucking all did their thing for Anita, so that she felt her cunt cream in a fluttering orgasm.
She turned her head to him, kissed his lips while he slumped in exhaustion from his ferocious effort to fuck her ass off.
Anita now aware of the pressure of time, wanted Bert on his way, so she pulled her tail away from him, and climbed out of the bed, for the bathtub.
"See you tomorrow, Bert, honey," she whispered, pulling him up, and getting him to the door. She heaved a sigh o� relief when finally he slipped noiselessly out of the room, his cock thoroughly whipped, and one would suspect, his body, too.
Sex destroys a man, she thought, amused, as she went into the tub and ran some water to soap and cleanse herself. It wouldn't do to smell of sin for Arnold, master of the house.
She felt light-hearted and gay, as she often did a nice orgasm. But not destroyed, as the male appeared to be sometimes. Of course, she had goaded poor Bert to explode his energy in her, which left him whipped and woebegone. Well, at least he would sleep well, and there would be no complaint that his hard cock had locked him in insomnia. She was a specialist in treating hard cocks, she thought, as she scrubbed her asshole and her cunt with lather. Soon Arnold would creep like a thief in the night into her boudoir, tortured by a pipe-hard cock, bringing it to her for the cure. Her cunt, her mouth, and her ass were the caverns of cure. She knew how to tame a ferocious monster. And she had learned this at a rather tender age, she congratulated herself.
Only sixteen, she thought, and already she discovered the important secret of life, and was to locate the hard cock and lambaste the hell out of it. To suck it with your mouth, your cunt, or your asshole. That's how you tamed cocks. And when you did that you gave yourself the supreme pleasures, you found that life was a more thrilling and marvelous thing.
Anita felt that behind all the hoopla and hulla-balloo of life, there was one key secret-sex. Sex was the one real thing-everything else was like painted scenery.
So, she got back into bed, and fluffed up the soft pillow and bedclothes to hide the fact that the frenzies of sex had just happened. Then she slipped into a sleep that deepened into a dream in which she was walking in Central Park, walking past Cleopatra's Needle, which turned out to be, on closer inspection, a giant living phallus.
It was at that point that she awoke, for a cock was actually pressing up against her face. Her eyes opened, and she had to smile, for the cock was familiar enough, belonging to Arnold.
He was standing at the side of her bed, looking down at the delicious blond kid sleeping there, with a look on her face like that of the young Madonna's you saw in the 14th century paintings.
It was just such a look of purity that provoked the most indecent feelings in Arnold, who at forty had become fascinated by young girls.
He had been seduced into this by his experience with Anita, whose skin was satin soft, who cunt was honey pie, whose tits were lovely hills of sweet flesh.
She was, in his mind, the essence of young cunt.
Earlier in the day, she had given him a horrendous blowjob that he couldn't put out of his mind. For hours he had lain in, his bed, thinking of the scene in his office, when she did her fierce lickings of his cock and balls, and the way she had gobbled the cream of his cock at the finale.
It was a scene to stiffen his cock even as he lay there, replaying it. Well, now he wanted to get his cock in her cunt, her young tight cunt. He wanted to hold her young fresh body, he wanted to get down on her golden-haired pussy and work his tongue into the ecstasy pit. Maybe, if he had the energy, he might wiggle his cock into her tail too, which was always a turn-on deluxe.
So he slunk under his pillow and found a bit of sleep, making sure that his subconscious was-geared to wake him at two, a habit that he had learned over the years. He had super-control of his sleeping habits, and could wake when he wanted.
He heard Mona turning restlessly from side to side in her bed, for she was a lousy sleeper, always playing back in her mind the events of the day.
It was the chief reason why he delayed his invasion of Anita's bed until two, since he figured that time Mona could be well-gone.
He slipped into a deep sleep, and before long, found himself in a curious dream. He saw himself in the pit of a dungeon, the sort they had in the Middle Ages, with iron bars, and iron spikes on the bars, and instruments of torture.
In the next cage there were four girls, all about sixteen, with white skin and lovely breasts exposed, for the only articles they wore were g-strings.
They all had keys strung about their wrists to show they were the jailers. And they were watching him secretly, although they seemed to be playing cards together.
Arnold in his jail felt a fierce desire to escape, but apparently there seemed to be no way out, except past these girls, and they had the prison cage locked.
He grabbed the bars and shook it hard, and yelled at the girls, "Let me out of here, you little sluts or I'll fry you all in Mazola."
The girls laughed and winked at each other, "Does he have a hard yet?" asked one girl.
"No. He's all spaghetti."
"Well, he doesn't get out until he gets a big hard cock that we can use."
"Let's put him in the iron maiden," said one girl, a redhead. "That should frighten him. It might stiffen his cock."
"No," said a blonde. "If he's frightened, he won't be able to get it up."
"I think we ought to torture him so his cock gets hard. Otherwise, we'll play cards forever."
So they agreed, and came into his cage, where an iron maiden was located in the corner. The girls had whips in their hands, and poor Arnold, in his dream, was stark naked. And every time he reached out for one of the girls, the others would slash his ass with the whip, leaving a stinging red bruise.
They forced him, with their whips, into the iron maiden, which did not have spikes inside, but it had apertures so that he could see out, and a place for his cock to emerge, especially if it were hard.
"Put your cock through the cock-hole," commanded the redhead.
"No," he said, even though he was enclosed in the iron maiden, and surrounded by the dark cold iron, not too pleasant a situation.
The redhead smiled, and she pulled on a lever, which made the spikes that were concealed in the body of the maiden begin to emerge. They had sharpened points, and penetrated his flesh slightly.
It made him almost jump and he realized then that he was entirely in their power.
"Okay," he said, and reaching down, he put his limp cock into the cockhole, so that it emerged from outside the iron maiden.
The girls all laughed.
"Look at it, It's like a dead snake," said one.
"He's too scared. We'll never get a fuck out of him, not with that dead thing!" said the blonde.
"I'll show you how to get a hard out of him," said the redhead. And bending down, she took his soft cock in her mouth, and started to give it a great tongue job, sucking it vigorously.
Within a minute the soft cock became a giant monster of flesh and bone, red-looking and in a rage.
"He's come alive," said one of the girls. "I guess he's ready."
"Open the maiden and let him out," said the other girls anxiously.
"Yeah, we want that hard cock," said the blonde.
They opened the iron maiden and let him out. He swaggered among them and sneered, "Okay, you sluts, which of you wants to get her cunt reamed?"
The girls began to yammer among themselves, each determined to be the first, until the redhead said in a tough voice. "Listen, I made him hard, so I get it first. But you can all have a piece of him."
And she worked out a strategy so that, while he stuck his cock in her cunt one would lick his ass, and he would suck the cunt of another, and another would lick his balls, so that everyone would get a piece of the action.
And so, in the shadow of the terrible iron maiden and the gruesome instruments of medieval torture, they made a sort of daisy chain of sweet-sixteen female flesh and one naked male, aged forty.
And everybody got a piece of the flesh action, each of them going off at a different time, that is, all except Arnold. For it seemed to him that his cock had turned into iron, and could never get soft again; And in revenge for the humiliation that the redhead had heaped on his head, he kept screwing her with iron cock till she almost croaked from all the orgasms.
"Get him off me," she begged the others. "The Iron Maiden has given him an iron cock, and he will kill us all with it, unless we get him out of here!"
So the others dragged him off the prostrate redhead, and pushed him out of the prison cell, out to the countryside.
He looked down at his cock, and it was true that his cock, which had once been flesh, had now turned to a sort of flexible steel, burnished and silver, something that would never again become soft.
At that point Arnold woke from his dream, his head bathed in sweat. It took moments for him to orient himself to his bed, to the snores of Mona in the other bed, and to the fact that his cock felt, in actual fact, incredibly hard.
He put his hand on it, under the sheets, and almost expected to find it a thing of pure steel, for the rigidity of it. He experienced almost a sigh of relief to discover that it was still a thing of flesh, muscle and bone.
What a nightmare, he thought, if I had really been cursed with a cock of iron. For it never to go down! You can have too much of a good thing, he considered.
Then he glanced at the clock, and noted with satisfaction that it was exactly two o'clock. He had an unerring instinct for timing, he thought, highly pleased that his cock was in splendid shape for the festivities of the night. He glanced over at Mona where she snored gently, deep in some dream, Arnold thought, in which she was voted best-dressed woman of the year.
She was always into her, creepy fashion game, he figured. Now he got softly out of bed, and opened the door gently, closed it behind him, and walked over the padded rugs to Anita's room where the little blond enchantress lay with her delicious cunt between her legs, seething with desire for his meat.
The idea of fucking her the first time gave him a lot of tingles, and when he got into her room, shut the door behind him, and crept slowly to her bed, his cock was nothing short of an overlarge, overhard sausage.
He then stuck it against her silky cheeks, and let its heat bring her out of sleep.
Her eyes opened, and they glowed for a moment at the sight of the bristling monster close to her face. Her recognition of his cock was instant, having already made its acquaintance with the caresses of her mouth.
"Mmmmmm. Such a wonderful way to wake up," she said sleepily, as she reached up to his cock, planted a wet warm kiss on its head, then opened her mouth to accommodate more of muscular meat.
He watched her with greedy eyes, the way her mouth slipped marvelously over the flesh, feeling her tongue move with wizardry to set off a lot of sharp tingles.
A great cocksucker, he thought contentedly, and he slipped out of his pajamas, and then pulled back the blankets.
She was totally naked, and her figure was fabulous, the hips moving out gracefully from her waist, the tits pushing up beautifully, topped with the pink nipples, and her joyous little cunt topped with blond maidenhairs.
He went down to her cunt, for he had not even tasted it as he remembered, and got his tongue into the delicious slit, spreading the meat to get to the clit. His tongue did a dance job there, delighting in the velvet flesh, the taste and the feel of it.
It was such a turn-on, that he felt he could keep going on it for hours, but there were other enjoyments to pursue. He spread her thighs, raised her legs, pointed his prick at her gleaming slit, and eased his cock in.
Just as he imagined, her hole was tight, and clutched his cock like a hard fist, giving him pleasing sensations. He kept pushing his cock into the depths of her cunt, until finally, he got it all the way, and the tightness was pure delight.
He bent down and kissed her young sweet lips, feeling totally connected to this young cunt. He had to congratulate himself on the luck that brought such a sweet delicious cunt into his home, even if she was his niece.
There was some extra pleasure in fucking your niece, actually, if she was sixteen.
And really turned on by the situation, for he was fucking her, also, under his own roof, with Mona not all that far away, laying on him another dimension of excitement.
And the vision of Mona was really strong in his head, even while he plunged away in Anita's sweet cunt. His pleasures couldn't be counted, for each plunge brought a great mix of sensations of physical delight and the spicy edge of danger. His feeling of Mona as a presence became so strong that he turned sideways, as if to reassure himself.
And there, in the flesh, in her thin transparent gown that showed her nipples through the silk, and her pussyhair, too, stood Mona.
She had been there, watching from behind them, for at least five minutes.
Because, actually, Mona had been subconsciously disturbed in her sleep, by a lot of sex excitement. Instead of dreaming of becoming the fashion queen of the world, she had instead been dreaming of some good lusty sex, for her cunt was vibrating for some vice.
So somehow, she woke up soon after Arnold had left the room, and the craving of her cunt made her creep over to his bed, where she expected to find a solid male with a solid hunk of male cock for her pleasure.
She found instead an empty bed.
And her mind instantly alerted to the machinations of Arnold's mind. He would be, she surmised, exactly in the Anita bed, of course.
The idea of nailing him there somehow became an overwhelming obsession, and so she went out as softly as she could to Anita's room, silently opened the door, closed it behind her.
The two lovers were so intensely into their ecstasies, they would not have heard a bomb, so it was quite easy for her to move close to the bed, and survey the action.
She could see his hard cock ravage the tender passion slit of the sweet blond Anita, and the sight was enough to give her cunt a lot of tingles. She felt fiercely oral, and wanted to get her mouth on something, to get into the act, not to be left out.
So she moved closer, and that was when Arnold saw her. It didn't stop his stroking, or break his rhythm, for he just kept on plunging, and waited for her to say something.
"Child molester," she sneered at him, then bent down and took her gown off, flung it back, and leaned into Anita's lovely tit, and took it into her mouth, beginning to suck.
He had to grin, for she did have a sense of humor, and while he fucked, he watched her mouth move with professional style over the nipples, sucking them hard.
He glanced at Anita, and her face seemed to be in ecstasy, for she was getting it tops and bottoms.
The tit, however, was not enough for Mona, who craved more meat, and she slid finally behind Arnold, to see what her mouth could then devour. His balls were visible, so she licked them, as he moved, to give him an extra edge of pleasure.
Then after doing that for a time, she found it too clumsy, so she paused, spread his cheeks to find his asshole, and probed it, wiggling her tongue into the slit, to the tender flesh and nerves inside, titillating them with the tip of her tongue.
She enjoyed it, for she could hear his quiet groans of pleasure as he shoved his cock into Anita's tight cunt, as he felt his asshole get a good reaming from Mona's clever tongue.
I'm getting the best of two worlds, he thought blissfully fucking away at a steady rhythm.
As for Anita, she had gone past the stage of anything other than ecstasy, for her cunt had been quivering wildly with one orgasm after another. She was flabbergasted at the powerful hard of Arnold's cock, and so turned on by the presence of Mona, too, that her cunt went into the wildest excitements.
She whimpered and whispered, groaned and moaned, twisting her body every which way, because the pleasure had become intolerable, almost agonizing.
And Mona, even though she was buried in Arnold's tail, couldn't help realize that Anita had got it all.
So, anxious for a bit of something for herself now, she came up and tapped Arnold on the shoulder.
"She's had it, honey. So, now, give me the rest, come into my mouth. Give me your cock juice. In my mouth!"
And Arnold, recognizing the truth of it, that Anita was all gone, and that the idea of blasting his cream in Mona's mouth could only be the peak of the climax, gladly withdrew his wet, red, ponderous prick and turned in to Mona's open, greedy mouth.
It clamped around his cock, and hungrily began to suck at it, she grabbing his balls, at the same time, as if to milk them of all juice.
To see her famous face around his cock did the devastating thing to his psyche it had done in the past, and it released a whole crowd of crazy, piercing sensations that wiped out the pains of his childhood.
To fuck a famous face was to him the ultimate release, the ultimate joy, so he grabbed her cheeks, and began to pump his prodigious meat into her throat.
And she had adjusted the angle of her head so tat his cock seemed to go into deep throat, for she knew the art of sword swallowing.
The sensations were too much to bear, and it just took minutes, with her fondling his balls as he plunged into her, for him to explode in her.
His cream cascaded into her throat, and she clamped her lips firmly around his cock as his love juice poured into her, swallowing every drop of it, the muscles of her throat rippling as she guzzled.
Mona, the gorgeous cocksucker, he thought.
And he glanced over at Anita, who was staring goggle-eyed at the action, even though she was thoroughly whipped out by the orgy of orgasms that she had gone through.
And so they later went into the bathtub, where they bathed and laughed and joked with each other. It was a happy, charming family scene of closeness.
And all this time, Bert slept the sleep of the blessed, for his cock, too, had found peace in Anita's ass.
So they all lived together, Arnold and Bert, Mona and Anita, in a gentle, loving life style, giving each other pleasure, inventing amusing bedroom games to while away the dull evenings.
They were indeed a happy foursome, who learned the secret of an amusing life of give and take.
They made a game of love, and love was their game.
