Sylvia felt his hot tongue against hers and her lush body yielded to his tight embrace. His hands slid down and cupped her ripe ass cheeks ... pressing his cock against her burning pussy and moving back and forth making sure her clit felt his throbbing manhood and his penis felt her warm pussy juices.
Sylvia knew she was being followed by a detective because her jealous husband didn't trust her and she was in the process of leading this detective right into her bed. From the hardness of his cock and his rising lust she would soon control his gun of desire and he would be under her passionate fire.
Chapter 1
Doctor Percival Stone paused on the balcony of his two-story Hillsburg home and listened to the giggle-filled chatter of his wife and stepdaughter. It was early morning and Sylvia was saying goodbye to Jill who was dressing for school.
"I'll be in San Francisco all day today," Sylvia was saying.
"Will you be home in time for dinner?" Jill asked.
"Yes, dear. I don't have any sales meetings tonight."
Percival's face drew into a scowl and he snorted. Then as he walked along the balcony toward the stairs he realized Jill's bedroom door was ajar. In passing he saw inside. Jill, fifteen years of age, long blonde hair cascading down her back, was wiggling a pair of sheer pink panties up her thighs. The solid ovals of her proud ass trembled like gelatin until they were snuggled tightly into the scanty briefs. One of Percival's gray eyebrows arched and the dark scowl fled his face.
His stepdaughter was like a springtime plant, a limber young seedling with all the trimmings of adulthood freshly popping from her slender young form. The backside was magnificent, her waist so narrow it was a wonder it could support her torso without snapping, her legs long, graceful, lithe. And the quivering breast that managed to sway sideways into Percival's view was proof positive the laws of gravity were wrong.
That brimming breast, so white-fleshed and smooth, stayed in Percival's mind as he slowly went down the stairs. It reminded him of custard, lickable, suckable, tongue-pleasing custard. And the pink nipple brought visions of plum preserves and candy-kisses to his glistening eyes.
"Good morning, Doctor," Harriet the housekeeper cheerily said as he entered the dining room.
"Morning," he glumly responded.
Harriet hushed herself off to the kitchen and left Percival to his dreamy morning thoughts. He was amused at how a simple, fast glance at the vibrant beauty of Jill's body could arouse him to such a degree. His hands, hands which drove him into fits of anger, were now steady as a rock. He sat there, watching his long-fingered surgeon's hands as the excitement of Jill's nudity faded away. Almost at the same time the tightness in his crotch disappeared the hands began to shake. Palsy. A surgeon with shaking hands. An ex-surgeon. Percival frowned.
By the time Harriet was serving his coffee Percival's hands were back to normal ... or abnormal. The cup quivered as he raised it to his lips. Harriet quickly returned to the safety of the kitchen and hoped she wouldn't witness another outbreak of his violent temper. The doctor remained quiet, he was getting used to the life of retirement, the incapacity which ended his long, profitable, prestigious career as a highly regarded heart surgeon.
When Sylvia, his beautiful young wife, came down the stairs and entered the dining room the doctor was pleasantly aroused by her smell of lavender. She was a stunning creature with all the breathtaking features of face and body her daughter was now finding. She wore a trim business suit; her light brown hair hung like silk threads in her short, no-nonsense style of liberation. A smile came to Percival's lips as he gazed into the deep brown of her eyes.
"Good morning, my dear."
She bent down and pressed her lips against his cheek. "Good morning," she gaily responded.
"Another day in the city?"
She sat across from him and nodded. Like a day in the city was such a bother. "Yes. Another sales meeting."
"So many meetings lately. Is the company in trouble?" Percival asked.
"Oh no," she laughingly replied. "Sphinx Cosmetics has never been better. In fact today's meeting concerns speeding up deliveries to keep the store shelves from getting empty."
He nodded. "That's good, my dear. But don't let them overwork you. Just remember you can quit any time you wish. We really don't need the money."
Sylvia patted her older husband's hand and smiled sweetly. "I know that, dear. It's just that I have to do something with my life. Sphinx keeps me occupied and I really find it quite rewarding."
"Of course, of course. Ladies today have a need to feel productive ... I understand," Percival said. "Just keep in mind that we're wealthy enough to buy out the whole damned company if they give you any trouble ... that's all."
She laughed. "We already own twenty percent of the stock, I really don't think they'll give me any trouble!"
"Will you be home in time for dinner?" he asked.
Sylvia gave a quick glance. His gray head with the few sparse hairs, the ever more visible red lines in his nose, the sagging flesh below his blue eyes ... and the hands. The hands that never stopped trembling. She swallowed. "Yes, dear. I'll be back early."
"Be sure to let Harriet know."
"Yes, dear." She wanted to run. To jump up and dash from the house; to get away from the aged relic of a man sitting across from her. Her husband! Sylvia gulped her coffee and tried to regain control. He's old, yes, she told herself. But I knew that when we got married. I thought his money would more than compensate for his lack of youth ... The first two years were good, the next two were tolerable ... then the hands started shaking. In five short years everything had changed so much. He was home now, retired and bitter, angry at the whole world. That's why she took her silly job, to get away to keep from going crazy herself.
Percival silently eyed his wife and wondered what thoughts were in her gorgeous head. The jacket of that suit failed to hide the magnificent rise of her two breasts with each inhalation, the necktie she wore across the swollen lift of her chest like a big wet tongue enticing him. Her attire was masculine by any stretch of the imagination: pinstripe suit and pants, necktie, leather attach� case, short hair. But there was no way on earth Sylvia's full-bodied femininity could be obscured. She could be dressed in cement and any red-blooded male would know that underneath it all was a treasure of deliciousness.
Sylvia finished her coffee with the same thought she usually had every morning. What else could a young widow with a daughter do to protect herself? Doctor Percival Stone was a renowned, famous heart surgeon when they met and he fell madly in love with her. What kind of fool would have refused him? Wealth, prestige, a magnificent home, anything she ever wanted and the first few years of the marriage were like a dream. The dream was now becoming a nightmare of bitterness and. shaking, quivering hands.
Sylvia stood up. Percival's wet eyes scanned her luscious body and tried to peel away the businessperson's costume. Perhaps tonight? he mused. For once she won't be out late, and it has been a while ... Thank God the shakes are only in his hands, ...
"Well, dear, I'm off," she announced.
"Have a good day, Sylvia."
She left him with a peck on the cheek and disappeared. He heard her in the front room calling goodbye to her daughter.
"Bye, mom," Jill cried back. The front door closed, the car started, the engine noise grew faint, Percival sipped his coffee. Slowly, easily, making sure not to spill.
When Jill breezed into the dining room his spirits jumped upward. Unlike her mother, Jill was dressed in the most feminine way possible. She dashed to the kitchen door and called to Harriet, "I just have time for juice and toast!"
His eyes followed the curving slimness of her legs up to the excessively high hem of her short skirt. Jill loved to swim in the pool and Percy loved to watch. Her legs showed the fine tone and slender muscles of a swimmer her whole body did. Sleek, firm, tight. She whipped around, her long hair flying, her soft lips parting into a joyously youthful smile as she approached her dear, old step-dad.
"Good morning, daddy," she hummed while planting a kiss on his cheek dangerously close to his mouth. A kiss much warmer and more affectionate than her mother had graced him with.
His arm circled her tiny waist and hugged. "How's my little kitten this morning?"
She blushed. Innocent, embarrassed. "Oh, daddy, I'm not a kitten anymore."
"No? And what have you become, my sweet? A lioness?"
Girlish giggles. "No, I'm a tigress!" She rolled her hips and moved to the side of the table in the most sultry, sexual way she could manage to display her claimed womanhood. Percy noticed her fingernails, long and painted with a new, bolder red. Yes, the little kitten of yesterday was becoming the tigress of today.
And only fifteen, he reminded himself. My, they get older so much sooner these days. In another year she'd have her mother outdone ... that pleased him down deep inside, the thought of her thirty-two-year-old mother having to admit her teen-aged daughter possessed more womanhood than herself. Their breasts were almost equal in size now, a race Percival had been happily watching for over a year Jill's budding bumps turning to full-fledged mounds of pliant tit. And the race was still on: within a year his stepdaughter would be carrying a set of knockers which would make other women cringe with envy and men steam with uncontrollable passion.
Jill wrinkled her pretty face and frowned when she saw the bowl of cereal Harriet set before her. Then the eggs. Then the juice and toast.
"I just wanted the juice and toast," she said.
Harriet grunted and didn't bother with the growing child routine. She just went back to the kitchen. Percival winked at his stepdaughter and she winked back. They had been working together now for several months. He ate the eggs and cereal, she gulped down the toast and juice.
He was rewarded with another, orange-flavored, kiss of affection before Jill danced out of the house on her way to school, the skirt flapping high, a hint of the pink panties waving goodbye to his thrilled eyes.
An hour later Percival Stone sat in his study waiting for the phone to ring. He was impatiently trying to stuff tobacco into his pipe when it finally jingled. He grabbed it before Harriet could in the kitchen and said, "Stone residence."
"Dr. Stone?"
"Yes."
"This is Burt Collins. She's parking "her car in the company garage."
"Good. Remember what I ordered. Keep your eye on her all day and report everything back to me."
Burt Collins cut in with his deep baritone voice, "I know what to do, "Doctor. Leave it to me."
"I am, Mr. Collins. Don't let me down."
"Relax, doctor, just relax. I've been a private eye for fifteen years and I know my stuff."
"I was a surgeon for thirty years and I learned something new every day, Mr. Collins."
"I gotta hang up, she's coming out now."
Burt Collins remained motionless inside the telephone booth as Sylvia Stone walked briskly past. He gulped. Jesus, what a fine piece of ass she is! he screamed to himself. This is one cunt I won't mind following at all. He waited until she entered the office doors of Sphinx Cosmetics before following. His throat was dry, his hands wet, the anticipation of the hunter on the fresh trail of his game making him slightly nervous. He found a comfortable chair in the office building lobby where he could watch the door she entered. She would have to come out sooner or later.
Burt Collins sat for hours. Nothing happened. A delivery boy arrived from the delicatessen and took lunches into the offices. It was almost five o'clock when Burt went back to the pay phone and dialed Doctor Stone.
"Stay with her," Percival ordered. "She called about an hour ago and said she was going to be tied up until nine o'clock tonight. She was so apologetic, she's up to something. I just know it!"
Burt resumed his seat, by now thinking the old man a little crazy. Maybe his luscious young wife wasn't playing around on him, maybe it was all in the old fart's mind. Then Sylvia came out, happy, smiling, talking with another woman. They parted and she headed for the garage.
As Burt stood he noticed a tall, handsome man with dark hair and steel-gray eyes come from the office. He also headed for the garage. Butt went to the street and slid behind the wheel of his Ford just in time to see Sylvia's shining Mercedes emerge from the garage. Behind it was a Cadillac being driven by the handsome man.
Burt's pulse was throbbing, the chase was on. He followed the two cars less than a mile before both pulled into the parking garage of the Cornwall Motel. Aha! Burt cried to himself. The old bastard was right!
After fifteen years in the business Burt knew exactly what to do. He waited until they checked in and disappeared into the elevator. Then a flash of his ID and a twenty dollar bill convinced the fidgeting desk clerk that Burt Coffins, Private Eye, should have the room next door to the one just taken by, of all names, "Mr. and Mrs. Funjoy."
By the time Burt was in his room he had the miniature tape recorder going and his Minox camera loaded with high speed, low-light film. The motel was old: fire-escapes still graced the brick walls and provided the dream of all private eyes. Easy access to the windows next door.
It was growing dark outside, the chances of being noticed were slim. Burt slid out onto the fire-escape, his heart beating a fast tempo in his chest, his camera poised, his tape recorder ready to pick up any conversation if their window was open. The shade wasn't even down, the window was open about two inches ... just enough for fresh air.
Burt kept himself low and cautiously peeked into the two inches of space. Perfect. He couldn't have asked for better conditions. The bed was next to the window, a dresser with large mirror was at the foot of the bed the reflection covered the whole bed.
Sylvia Stone was hanging her jacket in the closet. The handsome man came out of the bathroom zipping his fly. Burt heard her giggle and say something about not bothering to zip up, then they were in each other's arms, her slender body straining against the full crush of his thighs and crotch, her hips gently swaying against the lump forming in his pants. Burt squeezed the camera and an almost inaudible click meant the picture was taken.
The detective knew he could now leave the one photograph, the motel registration, the testimony of the clerk, his own testimony were all Dr. Stone would need for an open and shut case of adulterous conduct against his stunning wife. But he'd never leave, not now. No, this was the kind of thing Burt Collins worked so hard for. Watching Sylvia Stone and her boyfriend fuck would be more rewarding than the exorbitant fee he was charging the old doctor.
Sylvia's slender hands were traveling across the back of her man, making wide sweeps, ever lower, closer, closer to the curve of his grinding ass. Burt swallowed the heat in his throat as she squeezed hungrily into the man's rump, as she tugged his hips in even tighter to hers. Burt aimed and clicked.
He could still hear the laughter of Louie Branco in his ears. Louie Branco was the private eye of private eyes. And that night they met at a poker game and Louie asked Burt what kind of cases he handled would haunt Burt for years to come. Louie scoffed and made fun of his almost exclusive case-load of divorce and adultery work. "Dirty underwear!" he called it.
Burt didn't try to defend his specialty. He remained quiet and took the ribbing. Louie Branco wasn't the type of man you offend, no, not Louie Branco. He was well-known in the circles that needed to know. A man who handled thefts, murders, embezzlements, only the cream of the crop. It was even rumored that Louie Branco did occasional jobs for the syndicate, tracing down people they wanted out of the way. No, you didn't cross Louie Branco.
But as Burt's eyes watched Sylvia's fingers work at the zipper of the man's pants he remembered exactly why he enjoyed this specialty. It was relatively safe and tremendously arousing. She took the tab of the zipper and slowly lowered it as her boyfriend held motionless. Then the delicate hand slipped inside the crotch of the pants and the man smiled.
"Oh, Tom," Sylvia sighed as she felt the hard excitement of his straining erection.
Click.
Her mouth left his neck and she kissed her way down his shirt until she was kneeling like a. slave before him. Then .the hand worked quickly to untangle the blood-gorged head of his long, stiff prick and pull it out into the light. Her ringers traveled up and down the lengthy rod, driving it into red heat, making the broad head flare out like a threatening cobra.
Burr felt his own pecker screaming with thrills and reached down, to straighten it up and relieve the pain, He looked up in time to see Sylvia run her pink tongue across her full lips, then open up wide and engulf Tom's fantastic prick. Her lips tightened around the head, then traveled very slowly down the base until it was obvious the tip was at the curve of her throat. Click.
She drew back, her tongue making barber-pole swishes against Tom's pulsating flesh, saliva dripping from the sleek wetness of the blue-veined stick. Tom's hands frantically plowed into Sylvia's short-cropped hair as she plunged eagerly back onto the shaft to fill her hotly sucking mouth. He pushed against the back of her head and she strained around to give the tasty cock full access to the burning hug of her throat.
A warm tremble traveled up Burt's spine as he dreamt how it would feel to bury his cock completely in her beautiful, rich-lipped mouth. How it would feel to have this wealthy, stuck-up bitch devour his pecker like some blue-bruised whore. She was class, pure class, the debutante type, the caviar of women. He ground his teeth with envy and wished the stick she was eating was his own big, hot rod.
Tom let her withdraw from his meat and start licking, kissing, giving the long tube of muscle little loving nips with her teeth. At the same time she was undoing his belt, pulling the pants right down his legs, kissing his muscular, hairy thighs, running her tongue up into the loose sack of nuts and kissing the wrinkled skin and hair. Click.
Tom's face was a study in ecstasy as he felt the talented whips of her limber tongue scrubbing his crotch with fire-hot licks. Then she sucked at his scrotum until it drew into the softness of her lips: one testicle followed and he felt the rub of her tongue tip exploring the nugget.
He leaned forward, his hands stretching down to pull at her clothing, to strip away her blouse and necktie, to leave her bare to the waist except for a brilliantly white bra with lacy fringe framing the billowing flesh of each beautiful breast. Tom's fingers fumbled at the bra snap until it came undone and the halter went slack. Sylvia pulled it away and her bare tits wobbled meatily up and down each time she plunged onto the stiff red prick in her wet mouth.
Her nipples were large and glistening like wet plastic caps at the end of each white-fleshed doughy mound. Her lips stayed around his thrusting cock as she squeezed the firm meat of her own tits into distorted globs of stretched, heated passion. Tom stood straight again and looked down at the woman sucking his cock, meading her own breasts, kneeling so subserviently before him. His chest swelled with power. Sylvia Stone, the business dynamo and woman other men feared, was his slave, his sex object. She was battering her mouth and throat with his fine pecker, throwing all restraint to the wind, begging him to dominate her and make her feel like a woman should. Make her feel helpless.
Sylvia loved the way Tom's broad cock head filled the depths of her mouth almost to the point of bursting. She loved the way his glans scraped across her tongue and roof of her mouth when she backed off. He possessed the most beautiful cock she ever sucked, juicy, slick, broad-based and clean. Her full mouth made a pouting squeeze on the fire-hot muscle and as she pulled away she sucked with all her might, hoping it would explode and spray her famished tongue with tart jism.
Tom reached down and took her under the arms. Sylvia released the soaked shaft reluctantly and came to her feet. Their mouths came together with darting tongues and dripping lips.
"Go to the bed. Get undressed," he whispered in a husky, aroused voice.
Sylvia's eyes were gleaming as she obeyed, as she prayed this time she would find the satisfaction and happiness she craved so much. She kicked her shoes away and started unzipping her skirt. Burt Collins realized Tom was coming right toward the window. The private eye ducked low and lay flat on the fire escape, his pounding pulse and excited breath were impossible to control ... Tom was at the window.
Burt didn't move a muscle. Then Tom lowered the shade. He hadn't been noticed and Burt shifted slightly to allow his painful erection some space between his weight and the metal rungs of the fire escape landing. He slowly peeked up and then smiled. The shade was down, it covered all the glass of the window, but the two-inch space left open for air wasn't covered.
The sweating detective quickly moved into position and peered back at the couple, his camera ready. Burt's pulse increased as he saw Sylvia now clad in nothing more than brief black bikini panties. She was putting her slacks on a chair beside the bed, full curves of delicious white flesh mounded out beneath the short cut satin panties, the rounded swell of her ass strained against the sheer material as she bent to sit on the bed.
Tom took his time undressing and all the while watched Sylvia as she stretched her lush body on the bed. He noticed how she always kept her legs just slightly parted, open just enough to entice him but never far enough spread to appear wanton or crude. As he lowered his trousers he saw her eyes staring at the large lump in his white undershorts. He had been meeting Sylvia like this for six months now and knew that underneath her controlled, often biting demeanor was a caged sexual demon. But most of all she craved domination, firmness, a master to treat her like a slave ... Tom prayed that this time he would succeed and feel the total unleashing of her tremendous passion.
Sylvia caught her breath when she saw his splendid prick pop away from the shorts as they traveled down his legs. Then he took off his shirt and stood before her totally nude, his broad, well-muscled shoulders and chest reminding her of savages in photographs and movies. Men, pure men, who fucked the way they ate ... with no manners at all.
Tom eased down on the bed beside her and ran a hand across the soft pliancy of her pink nipples. They began to respond immediately with deepened color and puckered peaks. Gooseflesh formed on the downy skin of each tit. Sylvia's lips parted and she sighed with pleasure. Then his lips pressed into the broiling caps and rolled their rubbery tips back and forth. Sylvia inhaled and arched her back to press the soft meat up against his face. Tom's teeth came together on her nipple and bit. The tingling button cried with heat and pain.
"Uhhhhhhh ... oh, God, yes! Yes! Tom, chew my nipples! Eat my tits until they burst!" she groaned.
His mouth collapsed around the thrusting mound of warm flesh and sucked hard. Her throbbing nipple slid deep inside and he whipped it repeatedly with his tongue. When he pulled back and gave it another fierce bite Sylvia's whole body arched: she ran her hands into his dark brown hair and pulled his face down against the swell of her pounding body.
"Yes! Hard! Bite me! Bite me!" she cried.
Burt Coffins moved his tape recorder up to the window ledge and just left it there. There would be no problem picking up the conversation, none at all.
Tom felt her hand frantically grabbing his prick, pulling on it, driving it back to full hardness. He loved the way she worked his cock, with her hand, with her mouth, with her cunt. Sylvia was the ideal woman for him to have an affair with: she was ultra-passionate, very uninhibited, and his boss all the qualities his pleasant, but not outstanding, wife lacked.
"Yes, Tom. God, yes!" Sylvia moaned as she felt his mouth trailing down across the fiat softness of her belly.
He used his tongue like a broom against her sweet, tender flesh. And his lips were the vacuum. Torn cleansed away the fatigue of the long day and left behind a wet, saliva-soaked trail of pleasure and goose-bumps. When his mouth came to the waistband of her black panties he didn't pause, but he continued down across the soft satin until his face was between her suddenly spread legs.
"Lick me ... Kiss me ... Tongue me ... " she weakly sighed.
Tom prided himself in the way he savored cunt. This time he did it right through her undies. First he soaked the crotch of the panties with saliva by clamping his mouth against her snatch and blowing wetness into her. Then his tongue speared into the limp fabric and pushed, driving it right inside the sweltering lips of her cunt and stretching the rest .of the bikini briefs tight across the jerking roundness of her ass.
Sylvia rolled sideways and stared at the magnificent prick in her hand. Her vision was blurry but it was still a delicious sight, one that she eagerly plunged into her mouth to suck and lick like a giant candy stick. It felt so smooth, so slick, so dangerously hard and explosive.
His tongue licked wide areas of Sylvia's inner thighs as Tom pulled the soaked panties away from her body. The anxious aroma of her juice-dripping gash filled his nostrils as he licked flat the soft fur of her light-brown pubic patch. Then his tongue snaked j down and scooped between the dribbling lips of her twisting, begging hole.
"Inside me ... inside me ... " she sighed. "Way inside me ... "
Tom followed her wishes and ran the full length of his tongue deep into the slithering clamp of the cooking pussy. He tasted her abundant wetness and felt it trickle out against his chin and lips. Her hips rose up and twisted against his face, the ovals of her tight ass strained together with ecstasy.
"It feels so good ... so good!" she cried.
Burt Collins gulped and ran a hand across his sweat-drenched forehead. He had witnessed this same oral rite before, in fact he believed he saw everything two people could ever do in the performance of his undercover job. But he had to admit he'd never seen anything as good as this. She was perfect, not an ounce of fat, not a wrinkle, not one flaw on her whole beautiful body. And when Tom pulled away her panties he saw her pink-lipped cunt and patch of silken hair. It was trimmed, she had her crotch hair styled in the shape of a heart! A valentine box of candy treats!
And her boyfriend sure knew his stuff too. He wasn't rushing, he wasn't nervous or frantic, he just did his part with ease and exact timing. Sylvia was going nuts, tossing her well-manicured, rich-bitch body up at his mouth like some teen-aged schoolgirl who never had it before. And the way she sucked his cock! Shit, if he didn't get that rod inside her pretty soon she might suck it so deep it would break off!
Tom knew what he was doing. He drove his tongue against the firm cord of her clitoris and felt the electric surge in her hips and thighs. Then he whipped down with a broad stoke until tasting the meaty flesh of her ass, finally the tart pucker of her pink asshole. Sylvia's legs kicked in the air and he felt her teeth on his stiff prick. He drove the tongue back up to her cunt and left it there. As far as Sylvia was concerned everything was fair game except that. Her sweet little asshole was out of bounds, no tongues, no fingers, no cocks.
Sylvia felt the perspiration puddling between her breasts and at last the chilling fear she experienced when he tongued her anus started to fade away. It was replaced by a deep glow of burning hunger, a desperate need to have her juice-gushing snatch stuffed by the pounding cock in her mouth.
She pulled away from the wet cock, saliva dripping across her lips, her breath a constant series of gasps. "Now, Tom now! I want it now!" she demanded.
The desperation in her voice angered Tom. Somewhere he had lost the control over her he had earlier. She was begging him before but now she was demanding. He knew then and there that even if this was a pleasure-filled, satisfying session it wouldn't equal the few rare occasions when he managed to make her let go completely. She would be an animal in his arms tonight, but not the raving beast of unquenchable lust he had met so infrequently.
She was twisting below him, pulling at his shoulders and trying to get his hips down between her legs. Thick streams of juice ran between her thighs to drench the folds of her straining ass as she lifted her crotch high and gasped for air. "Fuck me fuck me fuck me!" Tom rolled atop her squirming beauty and wrapped his arms under her back. He felt the blind grinding of her hips against him, the insistent search of her burning snatch for his extinguisher of hard muscle. He teased, just a little, keeping his cock head up too high for the dripping lips of her box to grab and smother it.
"Tom!" she cried. "Tom! I want it now!"
He lowered his hips and drove the long spike into her with one angry thrust. The broad cock head split the lips open, and burrowed deep inside like a powerful rocket. Sylvia's hips strained against him: she let-out a gasp and bit her lip, but she took it all in one full-hipped plunge and loved it. The pain, the scorching friction, the impact of his head against her vaginal depths all added to the wonderful feel of a full cunt.
"Yes! Yes! Fuck me hard!" she screamed. Her ass strained up again, the hips whipped violently, the sweaty nipples of her tits peaked up to pinpoints of ecstasy.
Tom drove himself full force into the sucking hug of the hot hole and felt her muscles clamping against him. Then she pulled away and slammed back before he made his next move. It was usually like that with Sylvia, she took him two strokes for his every one, she loved it fast and furious in the beginning and even faster and more furious at the end.
She clamped onto his lightly haired ass and jerked his heavy weight into the welcome spread of her limber, wide-spread legs. It was a big cock, a deep, hard cock, a steel-shaft that knocked the sense out of her cunt and that's what she needed. To knock her snatch senseless until it had no choice left ... then it would let go and she could feel the orgasm, the hot fluid of her creaming guts drenching the battering ram. She remembered that on a few rare occasions it was different, but that didn't happen very often; she had to go for her pleasure in the only sure way she knew. Frantically, hungrily.
Burt's hand was tightly wrapped around his own prick as he watched the unbelievably talented hips of Sylvia Stone at work. He never dreamed anyone could move so fast, so limberly. She was like a constant wave, each heave of her cunt beginning somewhere in the shoulders and traveling down to culminate in her full-bodied thrust. And before that thrust was complete another was beginning at the shoulders. Her mouth was wide open, gasping, her eyes closed, her whole being focused on plunging her snatch around the stiff tube of iron.
He found himself stroking, beating his meat in time to her nonstop rhythm. And he was dreaming, wishing, fantasizing ... dying to be in the place of Tom. All Burt could think about was how it would feel to have that beautiful, rich, spoiled bitch's snatch doing the rapid-fire tango on his howling prick. He'd meet her thrust for thrust and give her a few she didn't bargain for.
Tom knew he was close. His cock felt as if it was Inside a cyclone of licking tongues. He clamped her body tight to his and drove his ass down hard between her tangling legs. Sylvia bucked up against him, possessively drawing every last bit of his manhood inside her starving crease. His move was timed perfectly. She exploded with sobs, the pussy trembled to a standstill. Then the rumbling contractions of her muscular vaginal walls battered at him like -a nighttime intruder.
"Yes! Oh, yes! I'm I'm YES!" she howled.
Tom had time for a deep breath of air before the head of his strangled cock flared against her tightness. He made another heave inward, his legs flexing, ass tightening. Steaming-hot cream billowed from the ignited end of the imbedded prick to coat and drench her ecstatic tunnel of shivering flesh.
Burt Collins watched their climax in the mirror at the foot of the bed; it was tilted just enough to give him a top view. The two bodies swam together like elated fish, twisting, plowing, grappling for more and more pleasure. Then he felt his own sperm leaking from his thoroughly pounded cock, across his wrist, oozing down onto the black ironwork of the fire escape.
Tom and Sylvia began to descend from their peak with slower, more relaxed lurches of their bodies. Tom's milk drooled from the red ring of her stretched cunt lips to wet the sheet below her perspiration-slick ass. Sylvia's breathing came under control and she whispered breathlessly in his ear, "It felt so good, Tom. Sooooo good."
Tom had nothing to be ashamed of, his performance was beyond reproach. He fucked her well and made her happy. But he wasn't as happy as he wanted to be, no, he had tasted the unforgettable thrill of Sylvia totally under his command on those few occasions when everything just seemed to go right. That ruined anything else. Everything was dimmed by the victory of the fleeting explosive moments that seemed so far away.
"Yes, it did feel good," he sighed Into her hair. "It was wonderful." But he knew deep inside that he had only managed to strip away one layer of this complex woman and feel the storm of her hot passion: below that was another layer and a hurricane of joy.
Chapter 2
Burt Collins was all prepared by the next day. He had spent hours in his dark room that night, developing, staring, drooling. At the kitchen table of his bleakly furnished flat he went over each 8X10 glossy with a magnifying glass. The detail was excellent, each hair, each stretched cunt lip, oozing jism even the sounds of their wet organs plunging together still rang loudly in his ears.
He turned on the tape recorder and listened to the music of Sylvia and Tom's abandoned fuck. With that and the photographs he had himself a self-styled porn flick, or multi-media show. Whatever it was, it was great. He made copies of all the photographs and one of the tape for his files, his extensive, embarrassingly explicit case histories.
He knew exactly how the case would proceed. Turn the evidence over to the old man, a few weeks later be notified of the court date, testify, watch this prime piece of womanhood get dumped out on the street by an old fart who had no business marrying her in the first place. She'd be destitute, penniless. And the old man had mentioned a daughter by Sylvia's first marriage. The daughter would go with the mother, she'd be thrown out too. Burt scratched his poorly shaved chin. Sylvia had a lot to lose.
That night he kept the photographs propped on his nightstand next to the bed. The tape recorder played the symphony of squishing organs. Burt contemplated Sylvia's beauty, the animal huskiness of her groaning breath. He weighed the value of a quickly earned fee from old Doctor Stone against following his instincts, his passions, his furious lust.
Lust won out. Burt found the courage to follow a plan he had dreamed about many times before, a plan that would make even Louie Branco proud, a scheme in which Burt would eventually receive his fee and much, much more. There was big money to be made in the investigation field if he played his cards right and even bigger rewards.
Doctor Stone would pay for the evidence proving his wife was cheating; big, handsome Tom would pay to keep that evidence from reaching his own wife; and Sylvia wouldn't want those photographs to be shown anywhere! And for that she would pay too!
The next day Burt met with Doctor Stone. He watched the old fart through half-closed eyes as he sauntered into the library and sat at his desk. His liver-spotted hands were shaking, his almost bald head shone under the light. But the old man's voice was strong and clear.
"Well, what have you got?"
Burt shifted his weight and shrugged. "Sorry, doctor. Not much yet,"
"What? You mean you haven't learned anything? What went on last night? She wasn't home until well after ten o'clock!"
Burt smiled. "That's right. I followed her every move, doc. But she was all business no playing around like you suspect."
"Suspect?" Percival steamed. "I know! She isn't fooling me with all these late night meetings! I asked you for proof and I expect more than shrugs and grins!"
"Look, doc, you can't expect miracles in one day ... "
"Don't call me doc! You've got one week to bring me undeniable evidence that she's cheating on me or I'll get another man to do the job!" The doctor's shivering hand slammed down on the desk top with a loud whack.
Burt's temper was flaming but he held it inside. He decided then and there that this ancient fool was going to get the full treatment, all costs, a bill that would make his red eyes pop right out of his wrinkled face. In a week Burt knew he could run up expenses pretty high; the old man would pay if he wanted the evidence so damned bad. Rich old bastard. Has no right to be married to such a tender little cunt anyway. Hell, yes, he'd pay ...
"I'll expect you to report to me every day,'" Percival continued. "By telephone. I don't want you around my home. As soon as you have something tangible I'll expect it to be delivered immediately."
"Sure, sure," Burt answered. "But I'm gonna need some advance money. I can't go running around after your wife all day without it costing me money."
"Ah ... " Percival sighed. "Of course you want money, you greedy snoop. How much?"
"For starters how about five hundred?"
Percival's eyebrows arched and a red flush came to his face. "You'll get three hundred advance and not a cent more! Take it or leave it!"
Burt shrugged and grudgingly accepted a check for three hundred dollars, an advance he was secretly thrilled with. Then the doctor ushered him to the front door with brusque haste. But before they arrived the door flew open and Jill came gaily waltzing inside. Her velvet-fleshed legs and heaving breasts captured Burt's full attention as she threw a kiss to Percival and headed for the stairs.
Burt followed her with his enraptured eyes, the bounce of her wavy blonde curls, the sway of her large breasts so tightly hugged by a blue cashmere sweater, the teasing flap of her skirt lifting high above the limber perfection of smooth legs. As she went higher up the stairs the angle of observation became better by the time she was at the top step Burt knew she was wearing yellow panties. Bikini briefs like her mother. The firm, rounded {lawlessness of perfectly symmetrical buns burned their beauty into his blood-pounding mind.
Burt had to shake away the haunting vision of Jill's sweet little ass before he could start the car. He knew he was in for a busy afternoon and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.
The phone in Sylvia Stone's office rang and was answered by her forty-year-old secretary. "Sphinx Cosmetics."
"Let me speak to Sylvia Stone," came a graveled voice.
"Who is calling, please?"
"Quit the bullshit and get her on the phone, dammit!"
The secretary panicked and pressed the intercom. "Mrs. Stone, there's a man on the phone who insists on speaking with you."
Sylvia threw her pencil onto the desk and said, "Put him on, Grace."
"Are you sure, ma'm?"
"Please, Grace." The line clicked.
"Sylvia Stone?"
Her brow furrowed. Who was this? What a voice.
"Yes."
"I'm having a package delivered to your office within the hour. I think you should check the con-: tents. I'll be calling you tomorrow to talk about your purchase of the material." The phone went dead.
Sylvia slammed the receiver down and promptly forgot about the bothersome call. An hour later a parcel arrived, boldly marked "For the Eyes of Sylvia Stone Only!" The memory of the phone call came back as she opened the mysterious package. A simple note came out first.
"Dear Mrs. Stone, Wouldn't your husband get a kick out of seeing these photographs? The negatives are available. We can talk terms when I call you tomorrow."
"What the hell?" she mumbled while pulling the half dozen 8X10's out of the envelope. Then her pink-lipped mouth fell open, her green eyes went wide, her heart sank. "Oh, shit," she fearfully moaned.
"Get Tom in here at once!" Sylvia snapped into the intercom.
She was pacing, tears of fury and dread were in her eyes, when Tom came hurrying into the office. "What's all the rush?" he asked before the door was closed.
"Look on my desk!" Sylvia said. The pictures were sitting right where she had dropped them; she didn't want to touch the vile things or even look at them again. As Tom went to the desk she closed the office door and locked it to make sure they weren't interrupted.
"Oh no," Torn moaned. "Where the hell did you get these?"
"They just arrived by messenger. Tom, I'm scared! If Percival gets a look at those damned things I'll be finished!"
"What about me?" he asked in a shrill voice. "I'm married too! My wife will hang me by my Oh, shit!"
"But whoever took these isn't after you, Tom! I'm the one he's after! He called me ... read the note! Tom, I'm being blackmailed!" Sylvia cried.
"Holy shit," he sighed.
Her hands clenched frantically before her as Sylvia paced back and forth across the office. "I don't know what to do! Should I call the police?"
"No!" Tom quickly said. "The police aren't the answer. They'll screw everything up and Percival will be sure to find out!"
"Then what do I do, Tom? What do I do?" she screamed in total panic.
"God, I don't know. Did he say how much he wanted?"
"No! Tom, what do I do? How do I handle something like this? I've never been blackmailed before!" She ran her hands through her hair and chewed at her lower lip. She couldn't sit down, couldn't hold still; the blood was screaming through her veins like a raging forest fire.
Tom lifted his gaze from the highly detailed, somewhat arousing photographs, and watched Sylvia. At once he recognized her state of frantic helplessness. She was coming apart at the seams, her world was on the brink of total destruction, some bastard had them both backed into a very embarrassing corner. But Sylvia's uncontained panic took Tom's attention from the problem at hand she was like a frightened child.
"He'll throw me out, Tom! Percival will divorce me and I'll be penniless. And Jill. How will I raise Jill the way I want to? He won't show me any mercy, I know it! I know it!"
He ran to her and wrapped his strong arms about tier quivering shoulders. Sylvia became a sobbing baby in his embrace, so helpless, so in need of his strength.
He pressed his mouth against her trembling lips and drove his hot tongue deep into the frenzied shock of her mouth. At first she tried to pull away, then with a great moan she gave in. Tom felt her lush body yield to his embrace and his mouth, his passionate means of helping her gain control.
Tom was excited to the point of shaking. She was emotionally torn apart, off guard, helpless. The last time he'd seen her in this state was months ago, on one of those memorable nights when he was lucky enough to feel that deep, inner passion and abandon she guarded so strongly. Yes, if Sylvia was ever to repeat her wild performance it would be now, now while she was already halfway there.
She was limp, passive in his embrace, letting him have his way without any demands or cries of impatience. Tom's hand slid down to cup at the swollen cheeks of her ripe ass, his hips moved in tight against hers and he knew she had to feel the massive erection that had sprung up in his pants.
Sylvia felt the rock-hard cock against her belly, especially when he started brushing it back and forth against her. It was a strange way for him to react to her blackmail problem but deep inside she trusted him. Perhaps this was the best way to take her mind off the immediate plight, make her forget if only for a few minutes ... afterwards they could attack the problem with clear, unemotional minds.
When her hands came up to the back of his neck Tom knew her deliberations were over. She was aroused by his sudden advance, and she was still off guard. His mouth traveled down to the gentle curve of her soft throat and kissed. She threw her head back to open her neck to his tongue and lips, free, no restraint, totally uninhibited.
His fingers were squeezing the meaty mounds of rump as she twisted her hips and crotch back at the pipe in his pants. Her eager breath quickly began to deepen, her thighs felt warm and cozy, her snatch already juicing with anticipation. Then his hand somehow managed to get inside the back of her slacks; it slid down to caress the silken nudity of her ass-cheeks, to spur her hips into greater action.
"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, Tom, you're right. Here. Right here ... We'll fuck. We'll show the sonofabitcb. what we think of his shitty blackmail."
He shut her up with a deep kiss and felt her nimble hands at his pants. The belt opened, the zipper flew down, the cold touch of fingers against the steaming flesh of his prick made him grimace with pleasure. "Yes, Sylvia ... let it go ... let yourself go ... Just relax and let me help you forget ... "
"God, your cock is so big, Tom. I love the way it feels in my hands and inside my mouth."
She dropped to her knees and started to kiss and lick at the red head of his throbbing shaft of hard muscle. "That's it. Yes, suck on me. Cover my cock with your beautiful lips ... "
As she sucked her hands tore at the clothing on her body. She stripped away the business jacket, her fresh white blouse, kicked off her shoes and even tugged his pants down to his ankles. She ran her squeezing hands up and down his well-muscled thighs, cupping his ass-cheeks, scooping at his testicles, twisting against the lower base of the mouth-covered prick.
Tom ripped away his shirt and tie. She was an animal! She was going at his cock like a starved beast, devouring him, grabbing his ass, forgetting everything except that she was helpless and needed his prick desperately!
He pulled her to her feet and removed the fancy blue bra covering the gelatinous mounds of beautiful tit. Sylvia slid away her panties and hose she wanted to be totally naked, bare-assed and wanton right in her own office!
"Hurry, Tom! Please hurry -I need it sooo bad! God, I want to fuck on my desk! I want to cream my snatch all over this Sphinx Cosmetics bullshit! And those pictures ... I want to piss my hatred out on those filthy pictures!"
Tom grappled with his socks and undershorts, then turned to her. They were both completely nude, their healthy bodies glowing in the lamplight, his rigid cock like a poised lance, her swaying breasts heaving with each hungry breath. His arms went back around her shoulders to take her into his embrace, to hold her tenderly like a crying child with hurt feelings.
"Please help me, Tom. I need your help ... " she moaned in a small, frightened voice.
His chest swelled with masculine pride. She was completely under his control, a baby. His hands moved down the graceful slope of her sleek back, fingers pressing against the bumps of her spinal cord. Then they dipped down and around each splendid cheek of her soft ass and lifted.
Sylvia threw her legs up and apart until he was holding her like a child in a swing formed by his hands. The fire-hot stiffness of his supreme pecker rubbed against the silken hair of her begging snatch, so big, so hard, so brutal and so wonderful inside her trembling body.
Her arms went around his neck and she managed to press her mouth to his as he bent his knees, gave her a slight upward hoist and maneuvered his howling staff between her eagerly waiting legs.
"Yes, Tom! Slam it to me! Fill my aching body with your big beautiful prick!"
He felt the boiling juice of her crack against his -cock head, and the yawning tenderness of her cunt lips. Her rump was like crushed baker's dough in his hands as he kneaded and squeezed and as her slender body twisted without control against his poised spike. He jabbed his tongue deep into her mouth before letting the weight of her body drop. His flare-headed cock pushed the wet lips of her pussy wide apart and burrowed inside her kicking body like a knife cutting a cherry pie.
"Uuuuugh!" she groaned as the excited prick stretched and tore into her tender depths. It was a sudden, overwhelming entry but it did the trick the last thing on her mind was the photographs, the phone call, the threat.
Tom eased her toward the desk and sat the jerking meat of her ass against it. Then his hands were free to wander up to her incredible breasts. His hips moved slowly, easing his long prick hi and out of the hotly kissing gash, making her whine and twist for more and more. That's what he wanted Sylvia begging, crying, sobbing to be satisfied. That's when she went berserk and responded to his pole as if it was made of molten lead and spitting needles into her guts.
He squashed each breast between his fingers, hard. He squeezed until the downy flesh strained into slick bubbles of pinkness and the nipples were purple with outraged passion. The tips tightened up like raisins and she had to put her hands back on the desk to keep balance.
"It hurts ... It hurts, Tom ... My nipples and breasts hurt ... "
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
"No! Bite them! Make them hurt more , ... please!"
Her eyes were half closed with ecstasy, her legs stretched wide apart as she received each of his slow thrusts without trying to set a new pace. She was passive, letting him do it his way for once. Tom reached behind her and pushed her arms out to each side. She fell flat onto the desk, her tits wobbling as if they had been jolted with dynamite.
He stood beside the desk, working his cock in and out of her, squirming over, digging deep enough to make her gasp and moan, pulling back at a slow speed to make her box shudder against his flared glans. Tom was beaming. He had her in the palm of his hand, he was going to make that she-devil come to the surface and do her dance of fertility and lust on his cock.
She felt his hands clamp onto her hips to hold her in place as the big prick kept easing in and out, scraping, teasing her anxious cunt. But Sylvia couldn't find the energy to work her hips the way she usually did. No, if he wanted to keep her from moving and just slide in and out she didn't care. At least she couldn't remember whatever it was she wanted to forget.
Tom could look down and watch as his pink-skinned tool disappeared into the brilliant red ring of her stretched pussy lips. The heart-shaped crotch of light brown pubic hair sat over his sinking spike it was just like the cherub's arrow piercing the valentine. Thick flows of glistening juice coated his stick and made the entry smooth and easy; the taut hug of her insides sucked at each imbedded inch of throbbing cock. This was the way he liked to fuck, with control, timing, purpose.
His arms went down under the beautiful limberness of her legs and hoisted them up and back until her knees were almost crushed into her tits. Sylvia's hot snatch rotated up until he could see everything. The pulpy flesh jammed against his prick as he pushed in, the clinging lips drawing against his skin as he made his casual withdrawal. Her eyes were closed, letting him do it all.
When he came back far enough he could see down past his pubic hair and view the tautly stretched fleshiness of her bared ass. Each cheek was strikingly white against the light bronze of her tanned legs; dripping honey from her cunt leaked down between the buns to moisten her anus. Her pink, tight, kiss-puckered little asshole. Tom gritted his teeth with desire and plowed his prick deep into cooking depths of her cunt.
He pulled out suddenly and left Sylvia with a hollow, vacant feeling. The fear came back to her eyes as she groaned with desperation.
"Roll over," he ordered.
She brought a hand to her mouth and stared at him. But he was boss, he was running the show ... Sylvia obediently rolled onto her stomach. Her ass was bent around the edge of the desk, her feet on the floor.
Tom grabbed her ankles and lifted until she was kneeling on her desk like some kind of life-sized sculpture. Then he pressed down hard on her back until the knees moved apart and her ass and cunt lowered to the elevation of his waiting organ. It was an uncomfortable position for Sylvia; her knees hurt on the hard desk top, her breasts were plastered down against the blotter, but the pain served a. purpose. It made her forget. She closed her eyes and rested the side of her face on the papers still on the solid oak desk.
Tom was thrilled. She was spread open like a freshly cut peach. Her meaty little cunt hung under the back-thrust of her ass like a waiting bird nest. The pink marvel of her minuscule asshole was in full view? beautiful, glowing with the coat of lubricating wetness, teasing him to dare.
He pressed his prick against the soft tissues of her vagina and felt the heat surge down against the glans. With an upward lift the broad head muscled back into the familiar embrace of the simmering snatch. Sylvia pressed her cunt down and back as he pushed up and in. The long prick tunneled inside her, driving the confused skins back into flames of happiness.
Tom now knew what to do. He had her in the most subservient and helpless position he could imagine. He grabbed her hips tightly with each hand and pounded his pillar into her like a jack-hammer. His hips flew back and smashed forward; the meat of her jerking ass slapped his hips with loud cracks of noise. Perspiration puddled in the small of her back as he pumped with blurring speed until his back and legs were aching.
She took his shuddering assault on her unprotected gash with little yelps of pain. The long shaft was bombarding her innermost guts with stabs of stinging torment. Wonderful, glorious torture causing her breasts to swell and whole body to feel as if it was adrift on some cloud. A thunder cloud.
When Tom saw her hands reaching out to grab at the edges of the desk he knew the demon inside her beautiful body was rising. She was now plastering her wet ass and flowing box against his deep-running plunges, her rump clipping down against his meat, taking it eagerly, passionately, insanely. And he was still in charge, there was no way she could turn the tables on him now.
His eyes were glued to the appealing pink dot of her ass. It followed each dip of her hips, seemed to dance and twirl and twist before his hungry gaze. And she was helpless, his. And down deep inside he knew their relationship was near the end. The blackmail would bring a sudden halt to their meetings. The lovely affair with his beautiful boss was as good as over.
So why not? Why not put my burning prick in the one hole she refused me? he asked himself. His fingers dug hard into the tender skin of her hips to make sure she couldn't jerk away. She was hissing now, making noises like a wild creature about to attack for the kill. Shit, he reasoned, she doesn't even know where the hell she is. What the hell is going on ...
He pulled his dripping spike from her pounding gash and in one fast move had the purple-hued head up against the unexpecting hole of her still moving ass. Tom threw himself at her using his full weight to wedge his pulsating rod into the taut resistance of the pink pinhole.
"Auuuuuuugh! Noooo! No!" Sylvia screamed in. a fierce, hysterical voice.
Tom grimaced and ignored her pleas. His cock head had managed to do little more than press the flexed tightness of her asshole inward. But it didn't open, and let him by. Her panicked sphincter muscle clamped him out. He slammed his prick into the fighting orifice with all the power of his hips and legs.
"Please no!" she screeched as she felt her asshole buckle under his assault, as the fighting tightness of her anus was peeled back by brute force.
Tom felt the head of his cock muscling into the wicked ring of tightness. She was opening; another thrust would get his glans into her ass. After that he would be able to sink his whole prick into what had to be her only virgin hole. He was going to pop the cherry of her ass.
Sylvia had other plans. She rolled from side to side trying to break his tight hold on her hips. It was useless. Then the ripping pain of his prick hit her again and she felt her ass heave with repulsion as his cock head forced inside the sanctity of her unwilling ass.
"You bastard!" she howled. Then she found the letter opener and lashed back blindly with it.
The blade glanced across Tom's straining forearm and left a red gash more than an inch long. His mouth fell open, then when the sharp blade came within an inch of his face he jumped back like a scared rabbit, his cock .retreating from Sylvia's stinging anus, her arm blindly lashing back again.
"Hey! Look out!" he cried.
Sylvia came off the desk like an angered tiger and ran at him. Tom's hands came up to ward off another poorly aimed slash. "Sylvia! Stop it! That's dangerous!"
She stepped back, her eyes and face filled with the red of fury. "I ought to cut your lousy cock off, you sonofabitch!" she snarled.
"Sylvia, I couldn't resist. It was there, so appealing, so pink and juicy ... I didn't think you'd ... "
She raised the blade above her head to silence him. "Don't hand me that crap, Tom! You know where. I draw the line! But you still had to try, didn't you?"
"I just ... "
"Shut up!" she demanded. "I was feeling so good! You were making me happy! Then you had to try a rotten stunt like that, you bastard!"
"But Sylvia ... " He eyed the threatening blade. The raging glint was gone from her eyes at least. She wouldn't do anything drastic now.
But Sylvia surprised him by whipping out her hand and clamping tight to his still erect cock. The hand holding the knife came flashing down and Tom tried to scream but he had no voice. She stopped the blade a fraction of an inch from the base of his hard prick. It was snuggled into his abundant patch of pubic hair. A wicked grin came to Sylvia's soft lips.
"Sylvia ... Sylvia ... please don't fool around," Tom stammered in a bare whisper.
Her grin grew wider. "If I slice it off while it's still hard, does it stay that way? Maybe I can get it wired and run it with batteries?"
Sweat was pouring down his face as Tom begged, "Sylvia, please let go of me ... get that blade away ... "
She backed up, pulling at his scared cock like it was a ring in his nose. "Not yet, handsome," she whispered. "Not until you finish what you started. But this time we do it my way."
"What?"
She slid her ass up onto the edge of the desk and opened her juice-splattered legs. Her hand guided his cock head in close to the still gripping lips of her snatch. She grinned again.
"Stick it to me, Tom. Put it in deep and fuck fast and hard. You better do good, make me climax real fast or else!"
He felt the blade press against the tight skin at the base of his pecker. She's crazy, he told himself. Absolutely nuts. But his hips obeyed her command without hesitation. The blade was cold and sharp.
Once he started plowing his stiff meat into her at a fast enough clip Sylvia removed the blade and wrapped her arms warmly around his neck. He felt the point of the letter opener behind his ear and threw more speed into his blurringly fast pace. The prick vibrated inside her hungry cunt as if it had a mind of its own, going deep, doing all the things it knew she loved.
She leaned her head onto his shoulder and sighed, "That's it, Tom. Make me happy. Do it the way mommy tells you and everything will be all right."
Tom wanted nothing more than to make her climax and climax fast. Then he wanted to get dressed and get out of Sphinx Cosmetics and away from this maniac forever. His back and legs were throbbing with pain but he drove himself faster, faster, until her cunt was so hot it felt like boiling water on his numb stem.
She was gasping and biting into his shoulder with greater and greater passion. He wanted her to stop biting but didn't dare say a thing. She was intentionally trying to leave a big red imprint of her teeth on him, something for his wife to wonder about the next time they made love.
His pulse was pounding with each plummet of his prick. Cold shivers of fear traveled down his back as he wondered if she would ever climax. Then her arms ' tightened on his neck, her teeth bit into his flesh and tore. She kicked her legs out and wrapped them around his ass as flutters of molten kisses slammed throughout her hole against his pounding shaft.
Tom let out a sigh of relief. It did the trick, His loins tightened, his ass flexed and he found the strength to jam his cock into her so hard they fell onto the desk. The fright in his cock shattered into a thousand splinters as raging semen erupted like fighting porcupines from him.
Sylvia felt his heavy body on top of her and twisted her lust-spilling hips up to wrench every drop of hot jism from his draining tool. Tom tried to kiss her but she whipped her head away. The cream of his rod was drooling out of her still trembling snatch but she didn't want his mouth against hers. No, not him not after the rotten thing he'd tried.
Tom's heart sank. She was refusing him her other opening now, her mouth. She demanded his cock in her cunt and got it, but that was it. They were through and they both knew it.
When he stood up and withdrew his slime-coated prick from her jism-packed snatch, Sylvia said it all in one sentence: "Get out of here, you spineless boy."
Tom wanted to slap her but she still held the letter opener in her hand. He dressed quickly and silently. Their eyes never dared meet. When he was dressed and at the door he turned and said, "I hope the guy who took those pictures burns your ass good, Sylvia."
She was in control now, the calculating, unflappable businesswoman. She looked at him and smiled. "There's more than one person in those photographs, Tom. Remember that."
He slid out the door without saying a word.
Chapter 3
Sylvia Stone spent a sleepless night. It all began calmly enough with dinner, a few hours of television, then plans to take a sleeping pill to dull her worried mind. She went to her bedroom, separate from Percival's, one she had talked him into letting her inhabit about a year ago. The old man had agreed to the arrangement after she convinced him it was only for her personal privacy, that he would be allowed to come and go as he pleased, whenever he pleased.
She was in her diaphanous blue negligee, freshly showered and about to drop the pill, when Percival's grinning face peeked around the bedroom door. Sylvia gulped; she hadn't planned on this turn of events.
"Hello, my dear," he playfully cooed.
Her hands tightened behind her back. He stepped inside dressed in his terrycloth bathrobe, the one that failed to close properly and left his skinny legs with the knobby knees exposed. Sylvia's first impulse was to feign a headache, then she remembered the unpredictable position she was in. Would it be wise to refuse him when her fate was in such doubt? Could she afford to refuse him now when those obscene photographs were in the hands of some man who might send copies-to Percival? She thought her chances were fair even if she did avoid the gleam in her husband's eye but she decided not to take the risk.
"Hello, Percival," she sweetly said.
He wandered into the bedroom and found a comfortable place to sit on the bed while watching her brush her hair at the dressing table. The old man's watery eyes traveled up and down the graceful curve of her back and explored the rounded press of her haughty little ass against the padded stool. Underneath the white terrycloth robe Percival felt a pleasant stirring of his blue-veined manhood.
"I thought I'd visit with you tonight," he softly said.
Sylvia swallowed. She knew what "visit" meant. The gray-haired old fool wanted his husbandly rights. A tremble of dread and disgust caught her lower belly. She had done it before and could do it again. Sylvia met her hungry husband's eyes in the mirror reflection and smiled.
Percival's loins tingled. She was acting as if the suggestion was a pleasant thought. She's got to be fucking around on me, he told himself. She must be! She's put-A rotten act to make me think she's the true and faithful wife! By damn when I get the goods on her she'll behave differently!
He watched her stand up and cross the room. The full meat of her swaying breasts teased him through the filmy cover of the light blue negligee. She had nothing on underneath, no panties, nothing but raw, bare flesh. Beautiful, smooth skin and youthful vigor. He dropped his angry thoughts of her cheating and decided it didn't matter right now; now she would be his act or not.
Sylvia wanted to arouse the old man as quickly and thoroughly as possible before getting near him. She knew that even the sight of her body turned him on, her breasts, her flat belly. If she could make him good and hot from a distance it would only shorten the length of time she would have to endure the groping of his shaking, palsied hands.
She let the negligee part open in front while bending down to slide her slippers into the closet. Her back was to him and Percival licked his lips. He saw the sweet curve of her jutting ass, the deep crease between them, the way they glowed like two lightbulbs beneath the blue. His cock was still limp between his fleshy thighs but it did tingle, it did stir and roll like a languishing snake.
When Sylvia turned around to face him the nightgown had opened up enough to expose the cleavage and swelling mounds of her soft breasts, the pink nipples like purple splotches under the veil of blue. But as she crossed back to the dressing table the gown separated even more and one breast bubbled free, the nipple like a beacon of excitement to Percival's unfaltering gaze.
He licked his lips again, his trembling hand unconsciously sliding to his lap under the terrycloth robe, down around the warming growth of his slowly hardening pecker. Sylvia saw his move in the mirror and was pleased. He can jack himself off, she thought to herself. Let him do the preliminaries and then I'll move in and get his rocks off real fast.
Percival could care if she came close or not. He got as much of a kick out of watching her beautiful body as touching it. And he was enjoying her coy little game of cat and mouse. His fingers went tight around his prick, it was getting there, growing firm and hard, the flow of youthful vigor pumping inside his stick.
Sylvia again crossed to the closet. This time she decided to really give him something to look at. She removed the negligee completely and hung it up. Her firm glowing flesh gave Percival's rod cause to throb between his shaking fingers. The sweet tenderness of her long, lithe legs and thrusting backside was tremendously arousing to the old man.
When she turned around his eyes moved quickly to the heart-shaped coiffure of her pubic patch. He grinned. This was new. He shook his head with wonder over the things women invent to entertain themselves and their men friends. As she walked the breasts rolled and jostled, her flat stomach quivered slightly. Her velvet thighs were flawless, firm, causing his hand to clamp harder and harder at the responding prick.
Sylvia had one more idea. She propped her foot up on the stool at the dressing table and bent down to inspect a toenail. Her round ass was jutting at his face, her legs spread enough to reveal the husky meat of her hanging cunt. He hungrily stared at the lightly haired handful of pulpy-white flesh with the red-lipped crease and beckoning lips. That was enough. The doctor's shaft lurched up to full mast, straining, pounding with a surge of invigorating blood and passion.
"Come to the bed, my dear," he weakly sighed.
Sylvia turned with a broad smile and pretended joy as she went straight for him, her arms outstretched, the pliant tenderness of her pink nipples pressing against his expectant face. Percival felt the warm collapse of softness and opened his mouth to find a heated nipple slipping between his kissing lips. She was beautiful, putting up with his old age. But he knew she was well-rewarded; he was wealthy, famous, easy to get along with. His lips went tightly around the nipple and he sucked the fresh taste against his slithering tongue.
She closed her eyes in an attempt to drive the sight of his face and body from her mind. It was better when she did that. The eager mouth on her breasts knew exactly what to do, where to lick and nip; after all, he was a doctor and did know which parts of the human anatomy reacted with the greatest pleasure response.
Percival was thrilled. His hands were no longer shaking. They were caressing her thighs and ass, roaming at will across the sleek delicacies and feeling the incredible softness. When she came down to the bed beside him her hands worked at his robe, throwing it open, exposing his white, sagging body. But her eyes were closed and it took a little exploration to find the stiff cock. His sizeable cock that she didn't have to look at to realize how pale and blue-veined and worn it was.
But her fingers moved deftly in an attempt to bring it up to the boiling point as much as possible before he tried to thrust it into her body. It was a good erection, one he had to be proud of, hard and strong, long and lean. Her hand whipped up and down with rapid, highly arousing strokes.
His fingers found the crevice between her legs and parted the slightly moist lips. Then she felt him probing inside, running his thumb against her clitoris, masturbating the tiny organ into heat. Wetness began to flow, warm juice coated his fingers, and Percival decided she was ready. He knew he was.
The eager push at her shoulders let Sylvia know he wanted to mount. Obediently her legs opened and she felt his pale-fleshed body slide atop her tanned, firm anatomy. Then the stiff prick brushed against her thighs, the cock head found her moist opening and slowly pressed at the lips.
Sylvia twisted up until the knob of the cock was enveloped by her skins, then she heaved against him with a hungry sigh. Percival beamed she was loving it! Her hot body started to swim under him, she gasped and moaned, her cunt whacking up around his imbedded shaft like waves of hot, clinging butter. He managed a few deep thrusts on his own but knew from experience that his aged bones were no match for her limberness and speed. Anyway, he figured, she enjoys setting the pace and I enjoy relaxing and just feeling the hungry urgings of her body, Sylvia hardly felt any excitement at all. She faked it. Made her body heave up to him, forced her cunt to twist and grind and suck at the juice-soaked pecker. Then her hands grabbed at his ass in a final display of false happiness, she tugged him down into her and sighed.
"Yesssss," she moaned softly.
Percival caught his breath, his back strained and limbs felt suddenly numb. Then his cock once again felt that terrific surge of activity, churning jism spewed from him, poured inside her hot hole, coated the walls and .filled the cavity as he pumped into it, making foam, sloshing his organ down like a butter churn inside her uplifted pussy.
"Oh, honey," Sylvia sighed. "It feels so hard and big and deep!"
"Does it? Does it feel good?" he asked.
"Yes ... yes ... "
His cream dripping prick was abruptly pulled from her snatch and Sylvia relaxed, it was over.
Chapter 4
Sylvia Stone's squat-bodied secretary instantly saw the tension and strain on her boss's face as she came striding into the office. Sylvia didn't say hello, didn't stop at the coffee machine, but went straight to her desk and sat. The first thing to meet her eyes was Tom's letter of resignation.
She read it, curses mumbling from under her breath. Then she opened her drawer and dumped the letter inside. Her eyes focused on the 8X10's and she slammed the stinking drawer shut with vengeful force. The day was off to a bad start. The phone rang and she answered. It was the gravel-voiced man.
"Mrs. Stone?"
"How much do you want, you son of a bitch?"
There was a pause. "Meet me at twelve noon. Register for a room at the Cornwall and make yourself comfortable. If I see anyone else with you or any cops hanging around the pictures go straight to your old man. Got it?"
"But I can't ... "
"Twelve noon!" he barked. The phone went dead in Sylvia's furiously shaking hand. The day was off to a rotten start.
During the next few hours Sylvia's problem seldom left her worried mind. She knew what hex choices were, go to the police and get them involved, go to her husband and confess, or meet the blackmailer and see what his demands were. After weighing the cost of each alternative Sylvia knew she would go to the Cornwall and do as the man said. She had to know how much money he wanted before she could make a clear decision if it was within reason she just might buy herself out of the predicament. If he demanded too much she could always try the police or confessing to Percival and begging his forgiveness.
After Burt Collins had telephoned Sylvia he stationed himself outside Sphinx Cosmetics. Not to watch-Sylvia's movements as Percival Stone had ordered but to make sure no one curious came calling on her. Someone like a cop or another private eye. Burt wanted to take all precautions and make sure their little meeting wasn't interrupted by the sudden entrance of the law or a man with a gun.
He waited until eleven forty-five and noticed no unusual happenings. She finally emerged from the office and walked to the parking garage. Burt waited in his car until she passed, then watched to make sure no other cars were tailing her. He finally started his engine and drove fast to catch up with her as she turned into the parking garage of the Cornwall.
Everything was clear. His hungry stare was glued to the wide sway of her rolling rump as she quickly walked from the garage to the motel lobby. She was dressed in a business- 'suit again. Burt's hands tingled with anticipation. Sylvia looked like a woman who wouldn't bother even to spit on him. He couldn't wait to give her the chance.
Sylvia felt foolish as she registered at the main desk. The clerk seemed surprised to see her alone but said nothing as she signed, Linda Smith, in the book. Across the lobby Burt Collins watched with eagle eyes as the clerk turned and withdrew the key from the cubbyholes behind him. It was room number 32. Burt raised his newspaper to hide his face as Sylvia strolled to the elevator and disappeared.
The room was empty, as she expected. She closed and locked the door. A shiver of fear traveled up between her legs and she ran to the bathroom. While relieving her nervous bladder Sylvia wondered how the blackmailer would locate her. Did he have something to do with the motel? Was it the desk clerk? That-young man with the naive eyes? Impossible. She wiped herself and went back to the large, well furnished room. She had never been in this one before even though she and Tom had been visiting the Cornwall every week for months. The bed was gigantic, the furniture new. One thing was the same as the other rooms, though. The mirror on the dresser at the foot of the bed was tilted just right to provide a full view to anyone fortunate enough to be on their back on the mattress.
As the room became familiar her edgy nerves started to calm down, and soon she was wondering if the whole thing was a hoax. Was the blackmailer testing her? Sending her on a dry run just to see if she intended to bring in the cops? Her questions were answered when she heard the strong knock on the door.
"Who is it?" she falteringly asked.
"Open up, Mrs. Stone." It was the deep gravel voice.
Sylvia felt tears well in her eyes as she reached for the doorknob. She couldn't do it. A sob caught in her throat. She had no idea what to expect on the other side of the door.
"Open up, dammit!"
Trembling fear caught her, she whimpered, her hand found the handle and twisted, the door moved open. But not far she had forgotten the chain lock.
"Dammit, quit playing games!" Burt hissed through the small crack between the door and frame.
Sylvia saw his snarling face, his poorly shaved chin. and bloodshot eyes. He looked mean, vicious, violent. Suddenly she wished she had gone to the police, she had to go to the bathroom again. As her hands fumbled at the chain lock the man outside kept snarling and telling her to hurry up. At last it came loose.
Burt Collins gave the door an impatient shove and it flew wide open. Sylvia gasped, her hand coming to her mouth, and stepped back in petrified terror. Burt came into the room fast and slammed the door shut, his hands working quickly to relock the chain and drop bolt.
She wanted to scream with horror. He was only medium height but he had the shoulders and neck of a bull. He was wide, hard, heavy and very ungraceful. Then he turned around. His nose wasn't oversized but looked as if it had been broken and poorly repaired; his lips were thick and curled into a nasty frown; his eyes were dark and small ... like bullet holes.
His gravel voice broke the silence. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Stone."
Sylvia composed herself as best she could under the circumstances. She nodded. "Who are you?"
He grinned. "You can call me ... let's see ... How about Robert? Or Paul? No, not those! Call me ... Marion."
Sylvia felt a sudden urge to laugh at his unrefined face. He was a joke! He wore a beige trench coat and wide-rimmed hat with the front pulled down low ... like Humphrey Bogart! Her expression remained serious as she slowly asked, "What do you want, Marlon?"
"We'll get to that, Sylvia," he snapped. "First sit .down and make yourself comfortable. You want a drink?" He pulled a pint bottle of bourbon from his coat pocket.
"A drink?" she asked. "I thought we were going to discuss those photographs."
"I said we'll get to that, dammit! Now answer me, you wanna drink or not?" His face was red, his words like the angry barks of a watchdog.
Her initial impression of clownishness was now altered by the obvious fact he was a man with a terrible temper. A clown, but a dangerous one. Her stomach had a hollow feeling of helplessness and the idea of a drink sounded good. "Yes, please," she slowly answered.
"Okay. Sit down. Take off your" jacket. Get relaxed while I fix us a few in the John."
As Sylvia took a chair and waited she tried to evaluate the man she was dealing with. Clownish appearance. Bad temper. Not very mannerly or eloquent. A high school education at the most. The type of character who might sell out easily. Perhaps she could handle him ... perhaps ...
He handed her a glass half filled with bourbon. Sylvia sipped the biting liquor and felt it burn a path down her throat. It helped, the numb dread began to melt. A calculating alertness replaced it.
Burt kept glancing at her, but when she met his eyes he looked quickly away. He seemed embarrassed, hesitant about something. She decided they might sit there all day if she didn't start the conversation. "Well?" she finally asked. "How much do you want? I expect the negatives, of course."
Burt threw his head back and downed the glass of bourbon. It made his insides constrict with fire. He stood up. "Wait. I gotta get another drink." He hurried back to the bathroom.
As the nervous detective poured another full glass of bourbon he kept asking himself what to do. Shit, she's even more beautiful than I thought, he said to himself. How the hell can I tell her what I want without sounding stupid?
Then he frowned at himself in the mirror. Dammit, you asshole! You just have to go in there and tell her! She's beautiful and luscious and rich and cultured but you got her tits in a wringer! She can't refuse!
He whipped around and stormed back into the room. "You want the negatives?" he snapped.
Sylvia's hand tightened on her glass. "Yes," she whispered.
"There are six of them, know that?"
"Yes, I know."
He was pacing, fretfully stomping back and forth. Sylvia's sharp green eyes followed his every move but he still avoided her penetrating stare. "Okay. Then I want six payments. Each payment is worth a negative. Or else they go to your old man. Understand?"
"I understand." Her voice was calm, even. At last they were getting down to brass tacks.
"And each payment will be made here at this motel," Burt continued.
"I understand, Marion," she said.
He lost his chain of thought when she called him that. Then he grinned sheepishly, his eyes finally met hers. "That's sort of a stupid name, ain't it?"
"I like it," she coyly answered.
His niceness disappeared, the dark somberness came back. "All right then, call me that if you want!"
"How much?"
His brow furrowed. "How much? What do you mean?"
"How much do you want for each negative? How much money is this going to cost me?" Her question caused a pink flush in his heavy cheeks.
"No money. I ain't talking about money," he nervously replied.
It was Sylvia's turn to display some temper. "No money? Just what the fuck do you have in mind, mister?"
He seemed shocked by her language, his thick-fingered hands rubbed perspiration against his trench-- coat. "You saw them pictures. You know what'll happen if your old man sees them ... , ."
"Yes! I know! Now what the hell is it you want for those damned negatives? What?"
She was on her feet, her face filled with insult and fury, she was ready to slash out at him with her fingernails. Burt kept clear and mumbled, "You. I want you."
"Me? Me?" she cried. "What for? What do you have in mind, you filthy creep?"
He drew a deep breath. "You're gonna meet me here six times and we're gonna fuck just like you and your big boyfriend have been doing." He had said it, he felt better, it was over.
Sylvia made a serious mistake when she threw her head back and let out a hilarious peal of laughter. She failed to see Burt's eyes narrow with dangerous fury, his hands pull into tight fists. His blood pounded with insult and anger. When she came to her senses and looked at him she saw the damage she had done and swallowed the large knot in her throat.
"Get your fucking clothes off, you rich-bitch cunt!" he growled. "I want your highbrow naked ass on that bed in two minutes or I'll kick the expensive threads off your big tits!"
He meant it and Sylvia knew it. She backed away. "You can't rape me," she stammered. "You can't do this ... "
"And how the fuck you gonna stop me, you cock-sucking slut? You gonna go for the cops? You gonna force me to mail those pictures and ruin the sweet deal you got going with that dried up old fart you're married to? Huh?"
"Oh, God, please ... can't we reason this out. I can get you money, lots of money, but not this. We can't ... "
"I told you to start stripping!" he hollered. Spit sprayed from his mouth and he unbuckled the trench-coat. It fell to the floor and she saw his thickly muscled arms, his immense broad chest straining at his sportshirt. He was a brute, an animal, built like a gorilla.
Under the fear and terror Sylvia felt was a layer of growing excitement. Each time he cursed at her, called her a filthy, degrading name, snarled and snapped, the tingling arousal grew in intensity. He was a violent, uncontrollable beast and she really didn't know how to deal with him. Should she run? Should she do as he said? Should she refuse to undress and maybe force him to rape her?
Her lack of action gave Burt no choice. His guts were killing him with hunger to touch her body. He told her what he wanted and she was just standing there like some dumbbell. He had to do something. He vented his frustration by swinging out his hand and slapping her hard across the cheek.
Sylvia cried with pain as she found herself falling backward against the chair, "You bastard!" she groaned.
"I told you to strip! Now get moving or I'll bust you up so bad even your stinking cosmetics won't help!"
Tears blurred her vision as she slowly pulled off the suit jacket. She didn't know if she would strip or not but removing the jacket did keep him from hitting her again. She wondered if he would undress if she started ... if she took her time and stalled he might remove his pants while she was still decent enough to make a break for it. Sylvia started unbuttoning her blouse, the throbbing pain in her cheek turning to a dull, spreading heat.
Burt smiled. It was working. The cunt was actually taking off her blouse. He wanted to cry out with victory. His fingers fumbled at his own shirt as he watched the blouse fall away to reveal the luxurious texture of her arms and shoulders. His massive hard-on began to pound in his pants.
He paused, hoping she would remove the bra covering her breasts, a full-cupped white halter without the fringe and daintiness Tom enjoyed. But Sylvia sat on the chair and started removing her shoes. He moved to the bed and kicked off his own shoes. Then she stretched a long, languid leg straight out and up enough for him to see how tight her full ass stretched at the seat of the slacks. She pulled the pants leg down and slowly pulled a mid-calf nylon from her delicate foot.
Butt's right sock had a hole in it. He used his heel to pin the front of the sock down on the floor and jerked his other foot free. As she gracefully removed her other mid-calf nylon Burt repeated his simpler, just as effective movement.
Sylvia was growing worried. He was matching her item for item, and at this rate she could never run for the door. He had nothing on but pants and under-shorts, she had slacks, panties and a bra. The bra was her ace. She reached back, her round breasts straining against the tight halter cups, and unsnapped the bra.
Burt couldn't move. The tits were coming, the big, luscious breasts he wanted so much were about to be exposed. But she paused, her eyes on him, seeming to expect something, seeming to tell him this wasn't fair. He unconsciously undid his belt buckle as she held the bra against the billowing masses of the tits. He unzipped and she let the white halter slip away just enough to encourage him. Burt stood up. He was self-conscious about the giant erection tearing at his stained jockey shorts but decided to ignore it. Shit, she was going to see it sooner or later. He let his pants fall to the floor. Sylvia let the bra drop but kept her hands against her breasts, hiding the nipples, obscuring the delicious, curving lines.
Burt stepped away from his heaped pants. Sylvia grinned and removed her hands. He watched her splendid tits bobble and sway to a standstill. They were tremendous! Big pink nipples like two splotched strawberries, velvety white flesh, firm, no sag, gourds suspended from her chest.
Sylvia saw the impressive lump his straining rod made against the cotton briefs. She had to admit one thing, the man was hung like a gorilla too. It looked as if the head was the size of a tennis ball, shoving, ripping at the tight confinement of the shorts. Her fingers were wrapped around the strap of the bra and the sleeve of the blouse. She knew she'd have to move fast.
She arched her back and jutted the pointed breasts forward, Burt's eyes widened, his tongue slid across his dry lips. Sylvia lurched for the door, the bra and blouse in her hand. She had the chain lock undone and the drop bolt up when his full weight crashed into her like a football lineman.
Sylvia was dazed but not unconscious. She knew what he was doing, but she also knew it would be impossible to fight him. He picked her up like she was a toy and carried her to the bed. His arms pulled away and she fell onto her back.
"You shouldn't a tried that," he mumbled. "I didn't want to have to get rough with you, but you asked for it, baby."
"You thick-headed asshole," she groaned. "You dumb jerk."
Burt's cruel hand clamped down on her throat. Sylvia felt the air cut off and his fingers squeeze. "Don't you call me dumb, you good for nothing whore! I got you trapped! I have you helpless! I'm not the dumb one around here, you cunt!"
He released her throat and ripped viciously at her slacks. To keep him from tearing them to shreds Sylvia fearfully undid them and pushed them down her legs. Burt's lips were working- together in anger; he kept clenching and opening his hands. Sylvia finally realized he was capable of killing her.
"Get those goddamned underpants off!" he ordered. He hated them, they were regular panties, not the kind her boyfriend got to see, the frilly, see-through kind. No, for him they were standard white satin with a high waist and low crotch. The stuck-up bitch wasn't going to waste her fancy-pants on anyone as common as Burt.
Sylvia felt cold and afraid. Gooseflesh dotted her everywhere, and she tried to cover her crotch with one hand, her breasts with her arm.
"Put your hands under your head," Burt said.
"Why?"
"Don't ask why! Just do it or I'll tie them behind your damned back!"
Burt Collins could hardly breathe. She was outstanding! He had seen plenty of naked women before but none as vibrant and gorgeous as this one. Her stomach was taut and flat, and her legs had all the curves without being over-muscled. Even her feet were well cared for, painted toes, clean, fresh ... he knew he could eat them and love it. Her slender neck still had a few red marks from his hand and her face was blotched too. But that would go away, he hadn't done any permanent damage. No, he just made threats, he knew he'd never be able to really hurt this fine, voluptuous body unless it was to inflict the pain of pleasure.
Sylvia was trembling as she watched him stare at every part of her anatomy. He seemed to be studying her, checking her out like a butcher checking out a fresh carcass. What the fuck was he thinking, this crude, brutal animal? Why didn't he jump on her and get the damned screwing over with so she could shower and try to forget the distasteful torture?
The powerful-bodied detective felt a weakness in his knees as he finally realized he had her completely under his control. He could savor and devour her scrumptious body just as her handsome boyfriend did. She was his now. His property, his woman. He gulped at the dryness in his throat and thought, Man. I'm gonna screw this broad like she's never been screwed before.
Sylvia cringed as his hand slowly came down on top of her mounded breasts. He rubbed the velvet softness of one, then the other, then his fingers made tentative pinches at each pink nipple. It was impossible for her to keep them from hardening, puckering up into tight cones and showing the excitement he was causing. In her guts Sylvia knew she wouldn't be able to control her body once he was inside it but she silently vowed to try.
Burt's dry mouth was suddenly filled with saliva. He wanted to chew and suck her knotted nipples until they filled his lips with hot milk. He was perspiring freely, breathing heavily, constantly licking his lips. Sylvia refused to move as his big head lowered down over her chest. He was so thick and broad-shouldered, she feared he might crush her with his weight if she tried to get away. Then his nipping lips pressed against the jangled sensitivity of her red nipples.
She arched her back and pressed the doughy softness of her large breasts against his crude, snorting face. She didn't know why she did it she just did. Her body made the decision without consulting her finer senses. The shivering fear in Sylvia's guts made her feel so helpless, so dominated, so excited.
He sucked at one nipple until it was drawn deep into the hot squeeze of his twisting lips. Sylvia heard herself groaning, then her back arched again, higher, hungrily jamming her tenderness back into the brute's chewing mouth.
"Ohhhhhh ... " she sighed. "I hate you."
"Mmmmmmm," Burt hummed back. He was as surprised by her eager actions as she was but he wasn't going to complain. Her sweet tits were smothering his mouth, nose, eyes ... she was mashing her big jugs against him for more and more.
Sylvia closed her eyes tightly. What was happening? He was disgusting! A low-bred jerk! Why was she getting so aroused? She kept telling herself it was because if she didn't respond he might do something drastic ... Yes, that's it, she thought, I have to do it to keep him from hurting me!
He bit and she gasped. A stab of pinching pain shot from her nipple straight to her spine, and then down to her crotch. God, she prayed, I have to keep him happy, keep him from hurting me! Her hands wrapped around his head and she pulled him tightly against her heaving breasts, offered her tits to him fully and prayed he would be happy with just biting He bit again, and again. Each time Sylvia let out a small cry of pain. But her hands gripped his head tighter; she forcefully smashed herself at his mouth for more and more. Then with a weak groan she threw caution to the wind and let her hand slide down his back. He was hunched over her, standing on the floor beside the bed. Her hand found the abrupt curve of his bare, hairy ass, then continued around his hip.
Burt felt the clinging exploration of her fingers on his intensely pounding shaft. She wrapped around it and squeezed. A bolt of thundering passion slammed through him and his tongue whipped across her swollen, purple nipples.
"It's so huge," she sighed.
He grinned. He knew it. His cock was something to be proud of, damned proud. Sylvia felt the length and breadth of the unbelievably hard pole. It was tight with sleek flesh and just kept going until everything spread outward into the thickest, fattest cock-head she'd ever felt. He was built like a mushroom! A beautiful giant mushroom!
Burt stood straight up and looked down at her, eyes closed, dots of sweat on her upper lip, the soft cheeks of her face, the saliva coated redness of her well-chewed tits. And her arm stretching out toward his thrilled prick, her dainty hand with the red fingernails and diamond wedding ring gently sliding up and down the excited meat.
"That's what I like to see," he mumbled. "Cooperation."
Her eyes opened, she caught him with a cold, uncompromising stare. "I just want to get this over with," she stated.
"Well, you're going at it the right way, baby."
"Don't call me that."
"What? Baby?" he humorously-asked.
"Yes." Her response was crisp and firm.
"How about if I call you Sweet-tits?"
Sylvia didn't answer and Burt's attention drifted down to the heart shaped cut of her pubic hair. "Open your legs, Sweet-tits," he said.
"No." She braced herself, knowing damned well that her refusal would bring about a violent response.
He was fast. His fingers dug into her silken crotch hair and started pulling, ripping.
"Ahhhhh!" she cried as her crotch screamed with tearing pain.
"Open 'em wide!"
Sylvia threw her legs open with a sob. Burt looked down at the delicate red lips of her honey hole. The tasty folds of her ass sat below the exposed gash, everything so white, so soft, so well cared for and appealing. But he kept his fingers tangled in the valentine of hair to make sure the legs stayed open, "I'm gonna eat your cunt," he announced.
"Please," she moaned. "Can't you just rape me and get it over with?"
He laughed. "Sweet-tits, I'm gonna do everything in the book with you! And you're gonna love it!"
"You crude pig!"
He jerked away from her and went to the foot of the bed. Sylvia's hand felt cold and empty without the hot thickness of his big prick in it. Without his noticing the hand came up to her mouth and one by one she licked her fingers. Burt lay on the bottom of the bed and pressed his sweating face into the warm hug of her gentle thighs. He was in heaven. The finest pussy in the world all his to eat, the caviar of cunts.
His tongue led the way between the pink lips, pushing them apart, stabbing inside to meet her clitoris. Sylvia groaned when she felt her hips jerk spontaneously he was doing exactly what she loved. Eating her snatch without manners, driving his mouth and tongue into her with unthinking force, even pressing his teeth against the super-sensitive lips of her soaked snatch.
She couldn't stand it! It was driving her up the wall! It felt so crude, so vicious, so exciting! Her hands lashed out for something to hold, her head rolled from side to side. Finally she couldn't keep silent another second.
"Lie next to me! Lay yourself next to me on the bed! Please! Let me ... let me ... God! Let me suck your cock!" she cried with delirious pleasure.
Burt swung around to the position she wanted. Then he took her twisting body and pulled it on top of his. Her warm, wet cunt slammed down at his mouth, jerked fiercely at his stabbing tongue as her hands pumped with rapid-fire strokes on his thrilled muscle. Then he felt the super-soft pressure of kissing lips traveling the length of his cock, nipping, licking, sucking. Then it went back up to the head, she opened up and sucked his fat cock head right inside her oven like mouth.
"Mmmmmmmm," she moaned as her head moved from side to side to screw the massive pecker into her depths. She could hardly stretch her mouth around the giant shaft, let alone drive it into her hungry throat.
Burt was never happier. It was working perfectly. She put up a fight at first but now her splendid little body was lashing on top of his without pause. She was loving him even better than she did it with Tom. Big, handsome Tom. His hands squeezed the round cheeks of her ass together and he peeked up to see the beautiful crease in the white flesh as his tongue scooped deeply and vigorously, pulling down her seeping juices to his mouth. He swallowed the abundant drippage. She even tasted classy.
His red prick was pounding with excitement. Sylvia felt it in her mouth, she knew he was close and that she might be able to get him off fast and easy. Burt couldn't help but feel it too. It was sudden, he had a moment of panic while he tried to decide if he should toll her off, turn around, and punch his cock inside the delicious lips of her cunt. There wasn't enough time for that. His thick-knuckled hands clamped down on the back of her head and pushed.
Sylvia tried to pull off the cock but it was impossible. He slammed her head down so hard it forced the massive pulpy head of the cock inside her throat. Her air was cut off, she started to choke, but he didn't let up. His hips bucked up and drove the painful ram even deeper.
When she felt the boiling jism splashing into her throat Sylvia tried to scream. She couldn't. She choked violently, driving the foul paste up into her nose, struggling for her life. She had never allowed a man to do this in her mouth! It was vile! Rotten! She hated it!
Burt loved it. He kept her impaled on his pumping, sperm-gushing cock until he only had one last spray left. Then he eased back and she lifted, just in time to get it in the mouth, across her thrashing tongue, between her teeth and cheeks, all over, everywhere sticky jism.
"You bastard!" she howled, spraying the white glue all over his thighs. She tried to spit it out, tried to make the hanging goop in her throat come up and out. "You pig! You disgusting beast! I hate you!"
Sylvia lashed out with her fist and hit him in the chest. Her hand hurt. He was big and stout but he wasn't soft. She knew that now. But Burt wasn't bothered by her show of temper. He had his own plans. He grabbed her shoulders and rolled her onto her back. She kicked, struck out again, spit the uncooperative cream at his face.
Burt's cock was still as stiff as ever. He climbed between her struggling legs, lowered his rump and drove forward. The cream-dripping head of his cock smashed into the wet lips of her small cunt like a fist striking a stomach.
"Auuuuugh!" she cried as his giant cock-head exploded the red lips apart, as the sensitive skin of her gash screamed with the pain of being stretched unmercifully. "Please! No! It's too big! It won't fit!"
His laughter filled her ears and he rammed her again. This time Sylvia threw her legs far apart in hopes of easing the unbearable pain. His crashing prick opened her up and burrowed like a powerful drill into her aching body.
The scorching pain was more than Sylvia thought she could take. She wanted to pass out but couldn't. It burned like a torch as the cock-head rasped with short, hard strokes, deeper and deeper. Then the hurt started to spread and envelope her entirely. Sylvia found herself licking the jism from her mouth and swallowing, hungrily seeking more of the tart juice. She bent her legs at the knee and pulled them back, giving him space, making the driving, unstoppable shaft more bearable ... even pleasurable.
She couldn't remember what happened after that. But Burt could. He'd never forget. The struggling, protesting lady of wealth and class disappeared with a groan. A lust-filled, wild-eyed monster was suddenly tearing at his heaving back, ripping into the flesh of his ass, cramming her wanton hole up at his pile-driving stick of muscle.
"God! Yes! It's ripping me open! Split me into pieces and cream all over me!" she howled. "Let me drink your sperm and suck your nuts! Just don't stop! Don't stop! It's so big and so wonderful! Fuck me!"
Burt felt her fire-hot nipples against his chest, her steaming breath in his ear, her cries for more and more. He delivered with deep-running, fast strokes which just seemed to arouse her greater passions. She threw her head back and forth, her fingers slid into the crack of his ass and tried to get underneath to tickle his swinging nuts.
"Put your balls in me! It feels so full! So hot and full!" her gasping voice sounded in his ear.
She twisted her delicate, gracefully limbed body up against his hard, thick torso. Her legs tried to wrap around his waist but couldn't, her feet clenched high in the air, curled toes kicked without rhythm. Sylvia was lost in waves of uncontrolled, totally abandoned ecstasy. Then her whole body from the lips of her mouth down to the wide-stretched ring of her cunt started to shake like dropped gelatin.
"Yes! I'm going to come! God, am I ever going to come!" she cried in a voice Burt had never heard before.
He swallowed and drove his cock with a speed he didn't even know he had. Her excitement was renewing his ecstasy. He felt his cock throbbing again, then he felt her cunt constricting time and again like a door slamming on his prick. She was battering him from all directions with cunt walls spewing liquid fire.
"Ahhhhhh!" he groaned. It was the first time in his life he had ever made a sound of happiness when climaxing. He was a little embarrassed but soon forgot it. Her body was soaked with sweat, driving at him, trying to merge tits, nipples, navel, cunt with his hard bulk.
Sylvia's snatch gushed with hot fluids and her anus started to quiver with joy; she was in a whirlpool bath of warm, sudsy pleasure and never wanted it to end. Never wanted the uninhibited feeling to go away and leave her the responsible, intelligent woman of the world she was raised to be. The impossible cock attached to the ugly body was something she wanted to keep right where it now was.
Burt's jism didn't have room to leak out of her until he slid his exhausted prick out of her still sucking cunt lips. Then the cream followed in thick gushes. Sylvia's eyes were glazed and she kept gasping for breath as her fingers dipped at her cunt and moved the sticky reward up to her licking tongue.
The detective dressed slowly as Sylvia lounged on the bed with a stunned grin on her face. She watched her crude beast of a lover while finding every trace of his plentiful cream and bringing it to her mouth. The daze left her in gradual degrees, like a cold draft getting more and more bothersome. He was fully dressed and heading for the door when she spoke in the voice he knew, the Sylvia of Sphinx Cosmetics. "Are you leaving?"
He stopped. "Yes."
"But aren't we supposed to meet again?"
"I'll call you and tell you when."
"Wait a minute! Where's my negative? You said I'd get a negative for doing this! Six negatives, six times!"
Burt nodded. "You'll get them after the sixth time, all at once."
"That's not fair!"
He took a blissful look at her pouting face and nude body. He could feel his worn-out pecker trying to build up another hard-on. But he was exhausted, he wanted to get back to his apartment and sleep. Yes, sleep ... sleep and dream ...
"I'm not a very fair guy," he said, proud of his answer.
"Okay, okay," she quickly said. "But sit down a minute. Just while I dress, okay? I have something I want to talk over with you. Something I think you'll like."
Burt didn't move. He reminded himself that he couldn't trust her, he had to keep alert, she was a smart cookie. "What?"
"It will mean a lot of money for you."
"Yeah? And what's in this idea for you?" he asked.
"Revenge."
"I'm not interested." He started back for the door.
"I'll let you keep the money and still pay you in my own, distinctive way. I'll lay you twice for each negative."
"Now you're talking," Burt found himself saying. He went to the chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving the glowing nudity of her fresh, youthful body. "Talk."
Chapter 5
Burt Collins still couldn't believe it, even the next day he was in a giddy fog. He and Sylvia Stone were in cahoots! His blackmail scheme was paying off in ways he never imagined! She wanted revenge, revenge on her old boyfriend Tom. And in return for Burt's help she was more than willing to pay off in warm, unresisting hours of pleasure.
She gave him Tom's home address and full name. Burt agreed to mail a set of photographs to Tom and blackmail him too. Sylvia assured him Tom had enough money to pay at least three thousand dollars for the evidence. Three thousand! Burt was ecstatic this haul would put him up into the big time! He'd be respected and honored just like Louie Branco! But first Sylvia wanted to make Tom squirm and sweat, Burt was to make an appointment for the payoff and not keep it. Then make another. And another. Until Tom was shaking with panic, begging for the photographs. Then he could pay.
Burt also had Percival Stone to take care of. He wanted to keep the old doctor satisfied that Sylvia was being a good, faithful wife. And all the time it would be Burt she was meeting with! The old man wouldn't have a shred of evidence on her if she kept her end of the bargain, and the way it looked to Bart, she would. She definitely would.
He called Dr. Stone. "Anything yet?" the grumpy old man asked as soon as Burt said hello
"No, nothing yet, doctor. And I've been keeping close watch on her, very close."
"You sure? I know she's got to be stepping out on me!"
"I'm sure, doctor. Nothing yet."
There was a pause. "Okay, then. But I want you to keep an eye on her tonight. She told me she has another late meeting and won't be home until nine o'clock. This may be it."
Burt smiled. She was meeting him tonight at the Cornwall. He'd keep very close tabs on Sylvia, much closer than the old fool would ever believe. "Right. I won't let her out of my sight."
"Good. This time I better get some results, understand?"
"I can only do so much, doctor."
"Catch her, dammit! I know I'm right!" Percival slammed the phone down with a vengeance. He sat gnawing his lip and thinking, trying to determine how stupid this Burt Collins had to be to miss the antics of his wife. He mumbled a curse and eased up from the desk chair, unhappy with this incompetent detective, wishing he had used other means to get the evidence on Sylvia.
Burt was giggling as he hung up. The old egghead was frantic and madder than hell. It served him right, Burt figured, he had no business trying to keep up with such a young, beautiful piece of ass anyway. He dialed the phone and waited until the familiar voice of Sylvia's secretary answered. The secretary was now familiar with the voice that sounded like a garbage truck loading and quickly buzzed her boss. Sylvia took the call. "Hello, Burt," she sweetly said.
"Hiya, baby. I did like we planned. Called the old goat and told him you were clean, clean as a whistle."
"Oh?" She laughed. "And did he believe you?"
"Not really. He belched and yelled but I'm still on the job, baby. I gotta keep an eye on you."
Sylvia twisted in her desk chair. Even the awful sound of his crude voice was exciting, bringing pleasant bubbles of memory up to her tingling crotch where they were bursting with warm spray. "Tonight? Will you keep an eye on me tonight?"
"Baby, I'm gonna keep my eye on you and my cock deep inside you!" he snorted like a caged animal trying to break free and attack. His hand was kneading against his crotch, his eyes on the photographs still on his nightstand. His cock was steaming for the luscious feel of her talented, sophisticated snatch.
"I can hardly wait," she whispered.
"You wanna meet earlier?"
"Yes. Let's make it four o'clock. I'll take off an hour earlier."
"Yeah." He hung up, his mighty erection ripping at his pants, his fingers digging it out frantically to tear and pound down on the inflamed length.
Sylvia felt she had everything back under control now. Burt was a disgraceful, unkempt beast of a man but he was coming in very handy. And his rough sex had proved greater than anything else she ever experienced. She had always thought a good lover had to be handsome, charming, smooth, but Burt had proved how wrong she was. Her pulse was still throbbing over the sound of his frightening, unmannered voice. But now she had him on her side, she had turned a blackmailer into an accomplice.
Tom would be receiving the photographs and blackmail letter any time now and she knew exactly what he'd do. He'd call her and ask what she had done. How she got out of it, if she did. Sylvia was ready for the call, actually anticipating it. That spineless bastard is going to squirm, she said to herself.
The phone call came half an hour later. "Oh, hello, Tom," Sylvia cheerily said.
"Sylvia. Listen, can we talk?"
"Go ahead, Tom. I'm listening."
"Uhhh, not on the phone. Can we get together?"
Sylvia smirked the fool was still hoping to have some fun even after the last episode in her office. With total relish she replied, "No, Tom, it's on the phone or nothing. I won't meet you anywhere under any circumstances."
"But Sylvia, this has to do with your problem ... "
"My problem?"
"Yes, you know. Those pictures, the letter, the phone calls ... "
"What about them, Tom?"
He paused. "I, uhhh, just wanted to know if you've done anything about them."
The bastard's too devious to even admit he's now on the blackmail list, Sylvia thought. "I'm going to ignore them, Tom," she coyly said. "Maybe it'll all go away."
"But ... but you can't do that! What if your husband gets a hold of them?" he nervously asked.
"Why are you worried, Tom?" She was loving it, he was squirming, sweating blood.
"Dammit! Sylvia, I just got the same thing! A threatening letter asking for money! Six glossy pictures! What should I do?"
"Remember when I asked you that, you idiot? What was your answer? Pay the demand, wasn't it? Why don't you follow your own advice?"
"I just want to know how much you paid. That way I'll know if he's overcharging me or not. Understand? Please, Sylvia. Fm very sorry about that afternoon, and I'm desperate."
Sylvia leaned back and savored every bit of his anguish. The big stud was begging. "Tom," she finally answered. "Three thousand dollars is what I paid."
"Three thousand? That much?"
"It was worth every cent."
"But the negatives? Did you ever get the negatives?"
"No, Tom. But he promised never to show them to anyone."
"And you believe him? Are you crazy? Now he's trying to get me! Where am I going to get three thousand dollars?"
"Send your wife out on the street and have her suck cocks for it," Sylvia softly replied.
There was a long silence on the end of the line before Tom hung up. Sylvia beamed with joy. It would be one hell of a long time before Tom ever tried to plug his root into a woman where she didn't want it.
Doctor Percival Stone spent the rest of his day in his small office to the side of the living room. He made a few calls and sat reading his journals. One article interested him a great deal; it was on the conditioned reflex response of patients under sedation. It seemed an eastern physician had been experimenting with monkeys after giving them anesthesia. He taught them to raise their right hands whenever they wanted a banana. After they recovered from the sedation it was discovered their lessons were well learned. They raised their right hands for the banana much sooner than the control group which was being taught without the anesthesia. It was a phenomenon physicians and surgeons had observed in human patients and attributed to the sleeping conscious mind. The input went straight to the subconscious, much like hypnosis, if the conditions were right. Percival slipped the article out of his journal and added it to the two-inch stack of related material he had accumulated over the years.
The use of chemical sedatives in conjunction with the techniques of suggestion used in hypnosis had always fascinated him. He had observed the phenomenon many times as a surgeon and was proud of the fact that he knew more about it than the authors of many of his clipped articles. For instance, the milder the sedative the quicker the learning response. Too frequently the patient is over-drugged and even the subconscious mind can't function with clarity.
He removed his rimless spectacles and wiped his eyes. Some day he planned to write his own articles about this process which could be so valuable to the educational system. He imagined whole classrooms of half-drugged students listening to their teacher, absorbing facts, learning at a rate never before imagined. He also imagined the prisons of the future they would be clinics. A criminal would be brought in, sedated, taught what was wrong with his behavior and released. He would never forget, but would walk the straight and narrow path from that day on.
And parenthood. Churches ... Sunday schools where sleepy-eyed children were taught good and bad. It would mean an awesome responsibility for the teachers, who would hold great power in their hands. Especially the sex-education teachers, Percival thought with a sly grin. Yes, they'd have abundant power over the budding young bodies of their students.
He stood and stretched. It was three o'clock and he could smell dinner being cooked by Harriet. He was pleased. She followed his orders to the letter. He wanted dinner early because Sylvia would be out so late.
The doctor wandered up to his bedroom and showered. Then he opened the dresser of his nightstand and withdrew a small envelope of white powder, sleeping powder he used occasionally. He measured out one third of a normal dosage and put it in another envelope which went into his sweater pocket.
Then he fumbled at the back of the drawer and withdrew a small black box. Inside was a hypodermic needle, syringe, several vials of clear liquid. More sedatives, these more powerful than the powder. Everything was in order so he slipped the box back into its safe, hidden place.
"Hello, daddy!" Jill happily called out as she rushed by his open bedroom door. "I'm home from school!"
He listened to her trot down to her bedroom before standing and slowly following. His pulse was strong, warm, as he approached her half-open door. Jill's habit was to come home and instantly change out of her clean school clothes into something more comfortable. She never closed her door completely.
Percival stopped a few feet short and peeked ahead. He saw her skirt fly into a heap on top of her dresser, then her beige sweater. He stepped closer and saw her from behind. She was in her bra and panties. A white lace bra that strained against her curving back, cutting grooves into the well-tanned, gleaming skin. Bikini panties so brief and diaphanous they seemed like a triangular postage stamp of fogged glass against the inviting crease between each white, velvety bun of her ass. The panties were caught between the abundance of ripe flesh which jiggled and swayed as she crossed to her closet.
He quickly caught his breath as she reached back and undid the breast-heaped halter. As it came away her massive breasts of firm, unsagging meat jostled, against the ineffective pull of gravity. Her breasts hung out from her body, stretching, reaching away and even managing to lift upward at each pink-nippled end.
Jill didn't notice her stepfather as she tugged a red sweatshirt over her head and pulled on faded blue jeans. Her long blonde curls cascaded wildly down across her shoulders and when she moved the wobbling breasts made the sweatshirt rumble and shiver as if it was filled with wind.
Percival went back to his room and sat on the bed. His heart was sending hot, powerful beats of blood throughout his system. God, he moaned to himself, she's the most beautiful creation on earth! She's perfect hi every way! Magnificent! His pants bulged with an erection a man many years younger than Percival would have been proud of.
Jill bounded into his bedroom and pressed a wet kiss on his cheek. This time she caught half his lips and a warm press of soft breast hugged his arm. "How are you today, daddy?" she asked in her happy, carefree voice.
"Fine, my dear, fine." His arm wrapped around the incredible slimness of her limber waist and she pressed against him with affection.
"Are we eating early again?"
"Yes, dear."
"That means mother is staying out late again, doesn't it?"
Percival nodded while paying close attention to Jill's reaction. She seemed more pleased with an early dinner than disappointed with her mother's late home-coming. That was a good sign as far as he was concerned; she was learning.
Harriet served dinner and Percival told her to go home, he and Jill would take care of the dishes. The two ate heartily while Jill jabbered on about her day at school, trying out for the swim team, the coming dance. After the kitchen was cleaned Jill asked, "Can we watch television together? And drink hot chocolate with marshmallows?"
Percival smiled. He was very pleased. "Of course, my dear. We'll watch the television in your room in ease you fall asleep on me again."
"Okay! I'll heat the milk for the chocolate!"
In a matter of minutes she had the chocolate prepared and on a tray with cookies. Percival took the tray in his shaking hands and lifted it. Chocolate spilled.
"Do you want me to carry it, daddy?" she asked.
"Maybe you should, Jill," he said with exasperation. "But would you do me a favor first? Go to my office and get my pipe and tobacco pouch?"
"Sure." She was gone instantly. Percival's trembling fingers dug into the pocket of his sweater and pulled out the white envelope of sleeping powder. He dumped it into her mug and stirred. He was all finished when she came back to the kitchen, her face beaming with domestic happiness. "All ready?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes, all ready."
Chapter 6
Her gorilla man was slumped into a chair when Sylvia entered. His thick eyebrows lifted slightly as his black eyes surveyed the body of his dreams. "Hello, Burt," she said with shyness.
"Yeah. Let's get into the sack." He stood, his broad shoulders and thick body causing her to wonder just what it was he had that made him so exciting.
"Without even kissing me first?" she asked.
"Come on, we only got five hours," Burt mumbled. "Let's get undressed and into the sack."
She giggled and ran to him, her arms wrapping around his stumpy neck and squeezing. The twisting press of her slender body against his made Burt's pulse start ripping in his veins. She put her mouth against his and stabbed a flickering tongue between his lips. Burt lashed back with thick slaps of his tongue and felt the eager heat of her large breasts and hot snatch.
She pulled away, beaming with tingling intoxication. "Tom called me."
"Good," he said, hardly paying attention. "Get your clothes off before I start ripping them."
"Can't you wait? Don't you want to talk a little first?"
"Shit no! I want to get on that bed and start humping your skinny body!" he insisted.
A shiver of fear traveled through Sylvia's body. She couldn't believe how easily he got angry. "But I want to tell you what Tom had to say."
His hand shoved into her chest with force and started tearing at the buttons of her sleek suit jacket. It was a rough, impatient move and Sylvia's apprehensions grew.
"Get your fucking clothes off!" he bellowed.
"But, Burt "
The sound of tearing material made Sylvia gasp and jump back. But he was on her, pushing, tearing, digging through the material between him and her bare flesh.
"Please, Burt! You're ripping my clothes! Burt!"
She fell onto the bed and his heavy body landed on top of her struggling torso. His fingers were digging inside her bra, pushing aside the expensive yellow lace of the brief cut cups without any tenderness or concern for her cries. Sylvia groaned and twisted, her hands working at the buttons and zippers of her clothing to save it from the destruction his crude frenzy would have caused.
He finally lifted off her and watched. She was stripping as he wanted. Getting her damned clothes off so he could taste, touch and feel that slick body which was driving him insane with heat. His eyes never left her anatomy as she bared the swollen breasts with the earthy pink nipples and pushed her pants down her long, smooth legs.
Burt grinned when he saw her fancy undies, lacy, like two little triangles held in place by elaborately elegant strips- of elastic. The cheeks of her tender ass hung out, even parts of her heart-shaped cunt hair. When she dropped them to the floor he quickly grabbed them up and stuffed the frilly things into his coat pocket.
"What are you doing?" Sylvia asked.
"You can afford to buy more," he snorted. Then his eyes drank at the lovely crease of red lips and pulpy white flesh between her partially open legs. His tongue washed around inside his mouth, he was going to eat her first. Suck at that cunt until her insides flushed hot milk into his mouth.
"Aren't you going to get undressed?" she asked.
"Huh? Oh." Burt knew how to undress quickly. Kick off the shoes, step on each sock toe and pull, drop the pants and shorts in one sweep, let the shirt and jacket fall away to a heap on the floor. Sylvia's mouth hung open in wonder as she watched the fifteen-second strip which revealed his thickly muscled, barrel-like body and the massive root of tight red bone jutting out between his hairy white legs. Her cunt lips began to swim with warmth just at the sight of the giant-headed root.
"Open your legs up, baby," he wheezed. "I'm gonna start off by eating you out."
She opened wide and Burt stared at the amazing gash, already juicy and he hadn't even touched it yet, He moved close to the red, wrinkled lips and sniffed. She smelled of high-class perfume. Then his lips pressed into the slithering flesh, his tongue speared inside her cooking slickness and felt the collapse of tightness all over.
She tasted good. Like berries inside. He lapped at the wet snatch and swallowed some of the freely dripping juice. Berries. His face burrowed back into her crotch.
Sylvia laid back and stared at the ceiling. She was mad at herself. Her intent was to take command of this ignorant animal and teach him a few manners. Turn him into something a little less coarse and brutish. But she blew it. He took the advantage from her as soon as she entered, she didn't have a chance. Now his deep-plunging tongue was making all her thoughts blur together in a hot wind of desire and helplessness.
She twisted and tugged at his large-rumped torso until he swung around and presented his gorgeous cock to her dripping mouth. Sylvia forgot all about her destroyed plans and plunged down on the hot pole with her groping lips. She could teach him manners later right now she wanted to suck his cock.
Burt loved the velvet feel of her thighs against his ears and the way she clamped his head between. Her hips were jerking hard and fast at his face. He stroked against her throbbing clitoris like a prize-fighter punching the bag, punishing the little cord of hardness, smashing it until her whole snatch was shivering and spitting hot juice.
Sylvia wanted to taste his thick, milk-shake cream once again. She wanted to feel it gob and ooze and drain down her throat like hanging paste. But she also feared what he would do when he got close to erupting; he might jam her head down hard and force his full prick into her mouth, spear it right down her throat like last time, she'd never forget it ... She knew she'd have to receive it again if she wanted any cream. Her lips lightened and she worked her head back and forth, sucking, grinding the fire up into the volatile volcano.
She was astride his face and his hands grabbed her thighs tight. They pushed her open as far as she could stretch and the soft tissues of her pussy slid inside his mouth. He chewed and stabbed at the same time, turning her crotch into a combination of stinging pains and swelling fires. Sylvia's legs tensed, her ass clipped up in the air and then her crotch slammed down to feel his sharp teeth and deep-plunging tongue.
"Ummmmmmm!" she moaned on her mouthful of prick as the liquids ripped in flash floods from her vibrating guts. "Uh huh!"
His hands smashed down on the back of her head and the massive cock pile-drived inside the choking tightness of her throat. She didn't try to fight this time; she couldn't breathe but knew there were better things than air; things worth suffocating for. Jism. Steaming hot gushes of sticky white paste blasted against her esophagus. She hummed with delirious pleasure and he let her raise up in time to catch two great splashes with the eager whips of her hot tongue. "Yesssss," she sighed. "Let me drink your cream."
Jill drifted off to sleep in her chair as they watched television. Percival had little trouble getting her to her feet and guiding her in a daze to the bed. Jill fell across it on her stomach, a soft wheeze of complete relaxation escaping her tender mouth. Percival moved fast.
He went out to his room and was back in less than a minute, the poised hypodermic in his trembling hand. He placed it on her nightstand and reached down under her hips to the softness of her belly. She eased up and let him undo the jeans, and when he started to gently tug them down she voluntarily shifted her weight to help.
She was only half asleep but it was good enough. Percival lowered her bikini panties to expose the white fullness of her meaty rump. The hypo had the smallest amount of sedative yet, hardly any at all'. He knew this would be the last time he'd have to use the needle on her gorgeous little ass. Jill was a fast learner.
He decided on five minutes for the drug to take full effect. After putting all the evidence back in his night-stand he returned to her room and sat in the chair. His hands were shaking again. His lips tightened it was ironic as hell. When he performed surgery, or any other task related to medicine, his hands obeyed like finely tuned pieces of machinery. But who would believe that? A patient about to be operated on? Never. That's why he retired, not because he couldn't perform surgery as well as he ever could but because his patients wouldn't believe it.
He stood up and went to the bed. Jill was out and dreaming, the bared part of her round rump still exposed. Her stepfather took the panties and pulled them down her long, limp legs. Then he pushed up on her sweatshirt until it was under her armpits. "Sit up, Jill," he said in a loud voice.
She sighed, her eyes still closed, her jaw hanging limp. Then she moved, slowly at first, finally with more energy until she was sitting up on the bed. Percival lifted the sweatshirt away and stepped back to see the beautiful present he had just unwrapped. Her head-was slumped forward, her long hair covering the wobbling flesh of the melon like breasts. Her legs were Indian-fashion, leaving the delicacies of her young crotch fully exposed.
Percival pushed her hair back across her soft shoulders. Her ripe tits glowed with healthy vigor and fully-packed firmness. Each .soft pink nipple was wide and relaxed, the pointed tips angled upward like newly sprouted beans. He inhaled she was fresh, brand new, vibrant and beautiful.
The pink and crimson lips of her tight little pussy were hardly visible between her mounds of white flesh. Folds of taut rump stretched underneath her, the open stretch of her thighs reminding Percival of creamy chiffon pie, the sparse hairs above the tiny cunt like wisps of yellow silk. "Lie down, Jill," he ordered.
She stretched her young body out on the mattress, arms above her head, breasts heaving up to the ceiling, stomach flat and slightly caved inward to the appealing depths of her navel, the fuzzed lump of bone and flesh below her belly rising up before plunging down to the tight-lipped opening between her legs.
Percival sat on the bed next to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. A slight smile formed on her full-lipped mouth, one of memory, memories of things pleasant. The hand was steady and unshaking as it glided down to circle and press into the heaped mass of whipped-cream breast. As soon as his fingers touched the expanded pinkness of the nipple it started to contract and swell. The color turned red, the feel became warm, fields of gooseflesh covered her breast as the nipple pinched into a knot of pinpoint tightness.
He pressed the two pliant globes together until a deep cleavage was between them, then he released the gelatinous mounds which sprang apart and wobbled. Jill's breathing was faster and deeper. The old surgeon bent down and placed his lips lightly on each rosebud nipple, his tongue licking back and forth until they glistened with his wetness. Her breath wheezed with passion. He sat back up and let his hands slide across her taut, flat belly. Touching, feeling the creamy texture and youthful firmness, exploring the amazing narrows of her slim waist.
Long before his hands even touched her light pubic hair Jill's legs were spreading apart. She was in a state of deep sleep but her body remembered the lessons Percival had been teaching it for months, ever since he first suspected Sylvia was finding her pleasures elsewhere. He brushed against her pubic patch and heard the hungry groan in her throat. So far he had only dared to use his hands on her pussy, pleasing her, lifting her straining young body up to pinnacles of satisfaction with his fingers. Tonight Percival planned much more.
His fingers glided between her waiting thighs and pressed against the moistening lips and flesh of her hot pussy. Her hips began to twist instantly. He grinned. One pleasant side effect of the sedative was a total lack of inhibitions. Jill responded eagerly, willingly; and was easily pleased.
As his middle finger parted the clinging red lips she lifted her crotch up hungrily. He speared inside the tight slit and felt the extreme slickness of her insides. She started twisting and moaning before he pressed against the already taut clitoris. Liquid fire met his every touch and heaving, jerking hips reached to the delicately inserted flavor. She groaned, her hands came down to her rollicking breasts and squeezed, then a long happy sigh came from her partially open mouth.
Percival could feel her rising temperature and increasing drives for frantic pleasure. He leaned down and pressed his mouth back on the pointed nipple. This time he sucked it into his mouth and licked with his tongue until the little button throbbed with happiness. She was heaving with wild abandon under his sucking lips and digging finger. "Yes! Oh! It feels so wonderful!" she cried.
Percival sat up quickly and stared. But she was still sleeping, having delirious dreams, crying out her pleasure. It was the first time she had ever made such a loud cry of enjoyment. He was surprised but not worried. His mouth attacked the heaving tits and the finger made a full depth plunge into her jerking snatch as a full-bodied orgasm ruptured through her guts.
"Uuuuuuugh!" she moaned as her legs kicked wildly and her blonde curls whipped after her twisting head. Percival felt her hot hand on his wrist, urging his finger deeper, holding it in place so she could screw her juice-dripping snatch up against it.
Sylvia Stone could still taste the tart jism of Burt Collins in her mouth as he mounted her. She was amazed by the stubborn stiffness of his giant prick. She had just sucked it dry with her tight, twisting mouth and he was now getting ready to pack her box with it. It didn't soften one bit!
Burt's broad cock-head, was flared and beet red, pounding like a jack-hammer as he touched against the brimming heat of her pussy. She was still writhing from the full-mouthed eating and he could feel the creaming wetness still streaming from her. As he pushed the knob of his cock into her she twisted and heaved up at him: the long prick muscled away the lips and burrowed deep into the squeezing crevice. "Yesssss ... That's sooooo good!" she groaned.
"Nice and tight," he said. Then he decided he sounded foolish and shut up.
"You're soooo big! So big and thick!" Burt loved to hear her say things like that but didn't say anything in return. "I'll bet you've made a lot of women happy," she added.
He stayed quiet and plowed his meat steadily into the gyrating clamp of her sweat-coated thighs.
"Have you?" she persisted. "Have you had many women?"
Shit, he thought to himself, why the hell does she have to have conversation now? "Enough," he brusquely answered.
Burt drove his ass down hard and his slick prick jammed deep enough to make Sylvia gasp with pain. Her body came buckling up at the punishing spike, ramming back at it, repeating the beautiful hurt of a fully-packed snatch.
"How many women have you had?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"Shut up and fuck!" he bellowed. Thrilling shivers of excitement gripped Sylvia's heaving body. He was getting angry, dangerous, thrilling her with fear. "Tell me how many women you've ... "
His jutting ass strained flat as he pumped into her with his full weight, trying to silence her with jolts of punishing prick. She cried with each smashing plunge of cock, yelping like a beaten puppy, but her body surged up for more and more. Her eyes were closed tight but her mouth kept taunting the beast on. "Why don't you want to tell me?"
"I told you to shut up, dammit!"
His hands clamped on her slim throat and he lifted up with full weight on her neck. Sylvia's eyes bulged open, panic gripped her completely, all she could feel was pile-driving cock and a horrifying closeness' to death. He was going to kill her while packing her cunt with the most wonderful prick she ever felt. And she didn't care ... as long as the cock kept jamming.
He released her throat and dropped his heavy torso down on her as his hips kept grinding. She inhaled with a moan, her senses reeling with unthrottled passion. "Fuck me ... fuck me ... " she croaked through her raw throat.
Burt frowned and reached down to hoist her smooth legs back and up until the knees were at her chest, He strained up on his legs to a push-up position and let his thick hips go insane. The lone red spike blurred with speed into the sucking pit of molten convulsions.
"Yes ... yes ... "
"Dammit, you slut! Shut up!"
"You animal, you big, bad animal!"
"You cock-sucking bitch. You're nothing but a cheap slut who fucks around on her husband!"
She was swimming with happiness each time he called her a name. He was a crude jerk with gutter language and she was letting him have her body. A body sought after by some of the most cultured and well-educated men in the country. But her luscious body was responding to what those high-brows couldn't offer, down-to-earth crudeness and disrespect.
"You're a blackmailing pervert!" she cried, hoping to make him furious and violent again.
It worked. His palm slapped across her face with a fierce blow. She cried out with pain. His cock pummeled her hole with hatred and viciousness. "You're a cum-sucking, rotten-cunt whore who isn't good enough to shit on!" he bellowed.
Sylvia climaxed. Her sharp fingernails lashed out as her eyes flashed with fire. The she-devil leaped from her with scratching, biting abandon. When her nails ripped into the fleshiness of his thumping backside Burt howled, when her teeth chomped like a mad dog at his shoulder he screamed. Each of his reactions was followed by the most violent slams of cock Sylvia had felt yet.
She met the smashing spike with a vibrating cunt that licked and chewed his long meat. Her crotch hair intermingled with his as she plastered her slender body against him, twisting, plowing, heaving against the pleasing prick for more and more wonderful pain and heat. "God! Yes! Oh! It hurts! It hurts! I love it!"
Burt was furious. She was climbing all over him like some spastic fiend, her wet body trying to press him everywhere. But he was also tremendously proud of the full release of passion he was causing in her; no woman had ever responded like this to him before, none of the whores and drunk pickups he had ever been with went for him so wildly.
She was humping his prick and gasping for air as if each was her last breath as Burt pulled away and roughly rolled her over. Sylvia's round ass jutted into the air, still twisting, begging to have his giant log plug back inside. He clamped her hips in his hand and speared the broad cock straight into her dripping snatch with one plunge. "Sooooooo good!" she sighed.
He breathed easier. At least she couldn't bite and scratch him this way. The deep curve of her arched back was puddled with sweat as she athletically worked her talented ass and hips back at the stuffing shaft of muscle. Her face was on the bed, her breasts whipped loosely back and .forth, her fingers ripped violently at a pillow and her toes were crunched together with tension.
"Make me come again," she begged. "Batter my pussy until I go crazy again, please!"
"You skinny-assed piece of shit," he mumbled, finally realizing how much she loved him to swear.
"Yes! Curse me! Call me names! I'm no good!"
"You're not worth, pissing on!"
"Yes! I'm just a cheap slut!" she cried.
His hips were smashing at the creamy softness of her digging rump with each furious thrust. A slapping echo of wet flesh filled their ears, the thick odor of juicing organs filled Burt's nose and mouth, the hugging tightness of her always eager hole was pulling at his non-stop root with increasing tightness. Sylvia's abundant juice was running dry.
He heaved in and out with full-bodied lunges and felt how her cunt walls became tighter with each stroke. The cheeks of her ass were streaked with juice, the inside of her thighs had streams of it trailing down them, but her snatch was running out of gas.
"It's starting to burn," she moaned.
Burt kept pumping. If it was pain she wanted it would be pain she got. He could care if she greased the way or not. His brutal shaft kept pounding into her, grating against super-sensitive tissues, ripping its way into her screaming depths.
"Swear at me!" she begged. "Make me climax again! Make me get wet by swearing at me!"
"Shut your mouth, you cunt! You're not worth sucking the cock of a street bum! Your cunt is all dried up! You're old and worn out like a beaten-up bar slut!"
"Ohhhhh ... " Her eyes closed tightly as she felt the surging fire return to her guts. His prick was already .sliding with deeper strokes and greater speed, her box responding with renewed wetness. It was working.
Burt felt the creamy hug of her hole and spit on her back. He liked the tight, unyielding friction against his boiling cock. He also knew where he could find it. A perfect place. If she loved being sworn at she had to love getting it in the ass.
His fingers were brushing against the cheeks of her ass and dipped down to her thighs where they found even more slick lubricating juice. Once his middle finger was totally soaked he came back up and slid it between the buns jerking at his crotch.
Sylvia felt his fingers but in her delirium of pleasure didn't think. When she felt him touch her soft asshole she caught her breath, then a finger was suddenly jammed inside the surprised ring of her anus. "No!" she bellowed. Her back strained as she pushed up to all fours and howled, "No! Not there, you fool!"
His loud laughter echoed in her ears as his weight slammed heavily onto her back. Sylvia buckled and fell flat. The finger was gone but a much larger object was trying to replace it. "Please! Oh, my God! No!" she whimpered helplessly.
Burt felt the strong resistance of her tiny opening but didn't give it a second thought. He weighed a lot and with little effort put all two hundred and twenty pounds of himself behind a direct thrust.
"Aaaaaaaughhhhh!" Sylvia screamed as she felt her assaulted anus ripping open and peeling back. An unbearable tree trunk was cramming into her ass, stretching, pounding, tearing her open.
"Yeah, baby," Burt hissed. "Now I'll fuck your ass until you cry for more! I'll show you what it means to be a street-whore!"
Doctor Percival Stone's long-fingered hands were absolutely steady. One finger relaxed inside the flowing hole of Jill's right pussy as she rolled from side to side in ecstasy. It was her third climax so far, all from his probing finger. She hadn't stopped moving since he started. Her lip was covered with beads of sweat, her prickled nipples were pimpled into red peaks and she breathed in deep full-bodied gasps.
He removed the finger and brought it to his mouth. The juice of her young snatch tasted like golden honey. He grinned and lowered his head down to the nest of happiness between her wide-spread legs. She slept and dreamed happy thoughts as his wet tongue tasted the delicious freshness and his kissing lips sucked at the firm vibrancy of her tissues.
His tongue snaked inside the clinging crack and met the slippery walls before moving to the taut clitoris. He stroked up and down on the cord until her body was rolling again, new honey spilled on his chin. He opened her pussy wide with his fingers and peered into the pink cavity, so fresh, so pristine and new. Up in there was her hymen, her little wall of childhood.
He gently stroked the clitoris until another wracking climax issued from her Umber body. Her belly quivered with excitement each time it happened, her hands always tore at the meaty breasts, her hair was a wild tangle around her thrashing head. Percival was giving Jill a full workout tonight.
With short strokes of his hand he felt how eager and hot his big prick was. It had been waiting for this moment a long time. But first he wanted to try an experiment, something new. He moved to the head of the bed where her open-mouthed face was resting, gasping for air.
When he touched her soft lips with the head of his cock she closed her mouth. "Kiss," Percival said. She puckered her mouth and he pressed his churning glans against it. It was a soft kiss of kindly affection, one which might be shared between brother and sister. Percival was about to draw himself away when he felt the exploring flick of her tongue tip. His ears grew red as he wondered where she learned about French style kissing. Was it at that darned high school her mother insisted on sending her to?
He soon forgot his outrage when her pink tongue slid out and wrapped a wet hug around his glans. Then the mouth opened and her lips half-encompassed the spearhead with a sucking kiss of surprising passion. He pushed gently inward and felt the soft sucking of hot lips, twisting strokes of her wet tongue. Her mouth yawned wide open as he moved inside until her cheeks bulged and she clamped tightly around it.
He was relieved to see she didn't know what to do then. His hot pecker simply sat inside her mouth as she sucked and stroked at it like a piece of candy. She didn't draw back and plunge down to get more, she was taking it like food. He slowly withdrew and her hungry lips followed: he pushed in, pulled back. Fucked her mouth very gently with his thrilled pecker.
As he lay down next to her she seemed to realize he was there. She snuggled next to his nude body and wheezed softly. Percival opened her legs with his hands and eased himself very cautiously in between. His heart and pulse were pounding in his temples and chest; he couldn't believe how excited he was to at last be ready to have her. He knew it had to be now; next time he was going to skip the injection completely and if her reaction to him wasn't willing he would never have the chance to experience her full-bodied lust of youthful vigor.
He used his hand to brush the tip of his cock against her creamy gash lips. When it was gleaming with wetness he leaned forward over her torso and gave his cock a slow but forceful push. The red lips collapsed inside her pussy with the onslaught of his mushroom head. He eased back and used his fingers to part the red tissues open before setting himself in place. He pushed again and felt less resistance.
"Lift your hips to me," he whispered. Jill obeyed. Her hips rolled up and instinctively found his angle of insertion. He pressed inward until the full glans disappeared into the happiness of squeezing flesh. "Push against me, Jill."
Her body responded and he felt himself gliding deeper into the fantastically tight pussy. Jill expressed no pain and he didn't expect her to. Pain was something women learned to have with sex, it wasn't necessary at all. She was totally relaxed and unafraid. Her internal muscles weren't tense; she could take his full prick without a cry. Her hymen would fall without a grimace. This was one of the positive aspects of learning while sedated, the patient learned to relax. After all, women were having childbirth without pain now, just because they had been taught to relax and breath right. Why not teach them to take the hurdle of virginity the same way, without pain, just pleasure and happy memories?
"Open up wide, Jill," he said.
Her slender thighs stretched wide, she pressed her hot vagina onto his long stick with more eagerness. Percival's glans met the thin tissue of her hymen and he paused. She waited, her hips in the air under his probing shaft. When he applied pressure against the wall of skin it crumbled without ceremony and her face remained expressionless accept for the heavy breathing. Precival was pleased; better than have some frantic punk kid rip her apart in the back seat of a car, he told himself.
Then he felt his cock slide completely into her chasm. He was surprised she took his whole length she had a deep vagina. He held it in there knowing her tissues were sensitive, that too much stroking could cause severe bleeding. It felt wonderful just letting his cock rest in her warm, tight embrace. She was under him, relaxed, aroused to the point of heavy breathing but not jerking her firm little body against him.
He slid out and then back in. Her hips worked against him in a awkward twist; her mouth became tight then fell open. He stroked at the wonderful walls again and she twisted again. Percival closed his eyes with happiness: he'd had plenty of women in his day but never anything as great as Jill. He was close to climaxing, awfully close.
It took him less than a dozen strokes to make his cock rupture with glee and spill the white froth of delirium inside her. Jill's hot hole started clipping and swinging against the assault: she began to shiver and send clamping contractions down his spike as a climax engulfed her too.
The two bodies, one young, one old, merged in rhythm as their orgasms met. Percival's face buried between her shoulder and neck, he inhaled her freshness. Jill's eyes were wide open, totally clear and awake. The sedative had worn off long ago, even before he put his prick inside her wet mouth. She was gasping for air but fully aware of what was going on and who she was doing it with. In fact, the same thing happened last time they watched television together. But she didn't say anything, she loved it too much to do anything like that. And now the sparkle of happiness in her blue eyes showed she loved it more and more.
Sylvia's whole rectum was shuddering against the constant push of Burt's unbearably long and thick root. She had quit screaming in protest long ago, right after he twisted her arm around her back and pressed up. It hurt more than anything she ever knew, her shoulder throbbed as if broken, her backside as if a bee's nest was in it.
Then a climax hit her like a cement truck. She was thrown like a rubber ball against a brick wall of collapsing passion as the ass-digging prick showed her why some women enjoyed anal intercourse. Her cunt spilled with sputters of juice, her breasts swelled like over-inflated balloons, she forgot to breathe and her pulse seemed to find a drum roll rhythm. It went on and on without pause for minutes of absolute pleasure. She had a vague memory of crying out for more, begging him to stay in her ass forever, calling him vile names and whimpering that her asshole was his and his alone.
Burt was soaked with hot sweat. He had filled her choking anus with sperm when she gave up the fight and started fucking back. He expected her to give in but never thought it would be with such wholehearted enthusiasm. She used her pink little asshole better than she did her talented cunt, her ass cheeks were red from the heavy pounding she blasted down on his thighs, she went berserk.
When he pulled his spent cock free of her grasping asshole Sylvia's jutting rump and hips kept circling for more. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes; she was unbelievable. Sylvia's empty-holed hips finally lowered to the bed and she snuggled up next to her vicious beast. He was snoring, his prick now soft and bent over.
She sighed with exhaustion, wonderfully content exhaustion. Then she crawled down and kissed the receding giant that had opened her to a whole new world of happiness. She drew the limp length between her moist lips and sucked at the taste of her anus. It was intermingled with the flavor of jism. She sucked gently and glanced at her watch. It was only seven o'clock. If she let him rest for an hour they'd have another full hour to do it again, in her mouth, her cunt, and yes, her hungry ass.
Chapter 7
Doctor Percival Stone sat in his study, his face grim with concentration. Five days had passed since the night he introduced Jill to the fulfillment of sexual intercourse. She was behaving beautifully since then, affectionately, a joy to be near. It wasn't Jill who bothered him. It was Sylvia. And that fool of a detective he hired. During the past five evenings Sylvia was "tied up until late," three times. And each time Burt Collins telephoned the cranky old doctor with his report.
"She's in her office," he'd say.
"Doesn't she ever leave?" Percival insisted on knowing.
"Nope. In fact, I think you got a hard working wife, Doc."
"That's not possible! I know she's cheating on me!"
"Look, doc! I'm happy to sit and watch her office door all day if you're willing to pay! But don't tell me I'm wrong! I know my business!"
"Is there any way you can see what she's doing inside her office? Maybe that's where she's meeting her man?" Percival asked.
"Impossible. That office is too full of people. How could she get away with something like that?" Burt replied.
"I don't know, dammit!" Percival steamed. "I'm paying you to find out!"
And so it went for the five days. Clean reports from Burt Collins but Sylvia's late-night meetings seemed to increase. Percival finally decided to call her office. Instead of her secretary answering as was the usual case a cleaning woman answered. She insisted she was the only person in the whole office complex, no one else was there, all the lights were out.
When Sylvia came home that night she complained about the long sessions in the board room, the several other employees running about the building. She was letting him know how tired she was, she was making sure he didn't suggest a "visit" to her room. She was lying through her beautiful straight teeth, he knew it.
Now Percival had to figure out why Burt Collins was lying to him also. Was she paying him? Was the detective playing both ends against each other? The old surgeon sat next to the phone waiting for Burt to call and make his report, tell his lies, cover up the real activities of Sylvia.
The phone didn't ring. When Harriet came into the study and told Percival a man named Collins was at the door he jumped up. His face turned red with anger hadn't he told that disgusting slob to stay away from his house?
"What are you doing here?" he brusquely asked Burt while ushering him into the privacy of the study.
"I came to give you my report."
"I told you to use the phone, to stay away from my home!"
"It's payday, doc. I've used up that advance you gave me and I need more or I drop the case. In fact, I think you're all wrong about your wife."
"I don't pay you to think! I know I'm right. What happened last night?"
"The usual. She stayed at work until a little after nine o'clock. Then the meeting broke up and she drove home," Burt lied.
"How do you know? How do you know she was inside that office building?"
Burt frowned and slumped into a chair. "I saw the lights, for Christ's sake! I even saw her and the other employees through the window. She was there!"
Percival leaned back in his chair and sighed. "How much do you need?"
"Another three hundred. It costs money to sit outside and keep my eye on that building. Parking, meals, phone calls ... "
Percival opened his checkbook and muttered, "You can stop all that sales-pitch crap."
Burt shut up and watched the doctor write out a check. He smiled to himself: it was like taking candy from a-baby. Except in this case it was better, like taking the baby's candy while pumping his mother. Percival slid the check across the desk and Burt stuffed it in his pocket, then the detective heard sounds of dainty feet approaching the study. He inhaled as his pulse began to increase: ever since that brief meeting a week ago he hadn't been able to drive the vision from his mind slender legs, big eyes, long blonde hair, heaving chest. And that round little ass with hugging panties. She was coming to his mind more and more each time he was with her mother, making him wonder what Sylvia was like when she was fifteen and brand new. Tight, naive, bushy-tailed and innocent.
Jill swept into the study like rays of springtime sunshine. Her glowing face and bright hair captured Burt's eyes and he was frozen to his chair. She was more beautiful than he remembered! Sylvia suddenly seemed old and haggard by comparison. He was proud of himself too, he had timed his surprise visit on the crabby doctor perfectly. In fact he had been waiting outside in his car for half an hour before coming in.
"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company," Jill quickly said to Percival.
"Yes, dear," the suddenly nervous old man said.
"Well, I'm off to school. I just came in to say goodbye."
"Have a good day, my dear," Percival said.
Burt's senses were reeling as he watched the young nymphet press herself against the sitting body of her stepfather, then lean down and kiss his mouth with her tender lips. It was a slow, drawn out kiss, one which seemed much too familiar for daughter and father, or stepfather. And the way the old man's trembling hand swept around her narrow waist to hug was also puzzling, arousing in a weird way.
Her skirt hiked up while they kissed, the gorgeous legs as smooth as wind-blown sand dunes, strong calves, mellow thighs. Burt shifted his weight uncomfortably. Her haughty breasts were mashed against the old man's shoulder and he thought he saw the slightest rocking of her body. Was she scrubbing her jugs against the old fart?
Then a brilliant white smile flashed at Burt from her sweet face. She called out her goodbye and with a swirl of tousled blonde hair danced from the room. Burt could hardly breathe, he was so enchanted.
"Is that everything?" Percival snorted impatiently.
Burt stood and felt his partially stiffened root struggling in his shorts. "Yeah, doc. I'll keep an eye on her and let you know if anything happens."
"Fine. Now get out."
Burt grinned. That's exactly what he wanted to do, to get out. He moved quickly to his car and started the engine. After pulling down the long driveway of the impressive home he looked both ways. The prancing body of Jill was already half a block away, to the right. He turned and followed slowly, keeping the car a safe distance back but close enough to study the way her backside worked at the skirt, the way her hair bounced with such glowing health, the way her legs stepped, bent, walked.
She stopped at the comer and waited for the light to change. Burt timed it so that he was caught by the red light which gave her the green. She crossed the street hi front of his car, his eyes never leaving the bobbing of her two firm tits. When she was gone he floored the gas pedal and roared off in delirium of heat and desire.
He stopped at a pay phone and dialed Tom. The handsome ex-boyfriend answered, and his first question was, "Where were you? I was there just like you instructed last night."
"Did you have the money?" Burt snarled.
"Yes! Yes, I have it. But where were you?"
"Never mind that! Something else came up. Meet me tonight at midnight, Wally's Drive-in at the end of Main Street. Got that?"
"Yes, yes," Tom frantically answered. "I know where it is. I have the money, all three thousand dollars. Just have the negatives and let's get this done with!"
"No cops, no friends, come alone! Got it?"
"God, yes! I've been doing that! Just meet me, please!"
"Be there!" Burt hung up and laughed. Big Tom was shitting his pants: last night was the third appointment Burt had sent him on.
Burt climbed back in his car and drove to Sphinx Cosmetics. He parked out front and went to another payphone. This time he called Sylvia. "I'm outside watching, baby, so keep on your good behavior."
She giggled happily. "You bet I will, big boy. Did you call Tom? Was he sweating?"
"Like a roasting pig. Same place tonight? Same time?"
"I wouldn't miss it, honey," she purred.
Percival Stone paced back and forth for more than an hour before returning to his study. He didn't like the way that disgusting detective eyed Jill; he didn't like the thought of being taken for a fool by some two-bit jerk who called himself a private eye. There were bigger and better men in the field, ones who could be trusted to do what you paid for.
The anger with Burt Coffins refused to leave him, it kept gnawing like a bothersome rodent. The man was a fool. All Percival wanted was the evidence; he wasn't planning on divorcing Sylvia and risking the loss of Jill. No, all he wanted was proof of Sylvia's indiscretions to guarantee she never tried to divorce him and take half his money, his house, his possessions and his stepdaughter. But Burt Coffins was screwing that all up with his double dealing stupidity. That would have to end.
Percival knew it would only be a matter of days before everything was straightened out, it was ugly business but at times firm measures were required. He learned that a long time ago when he was involved in a malpractice suit, a strong message received from the right man could change many things.
Sylvia wore black lace panties, a strapless black bra and black net stockings that evening when she met Burt. It was the exact outfit he'd ordered the last time they were together. And he was extra pleased when he saw the garter belt he had forgotten to mention that. It added something, something he couldn't explain that did thrilling things to his pulse.
"Do you like my dirty-little-girl's outfit?" she purred.
"It's nice," he mumbled. "Real nice." He wondered how the slightly thinner yet much firmer body of her daughter would fit inside the scandalous underthings.
She turned her back and undid the garter belt snaps. Then her hands slowly guided the black panties down her legs over the net stockings. The white meat of her jutting ass seemed even softer and more delicate framed in all the black, the red lips of hanging pussy peeking at him from between her legs. She stood straight and re-snapped the garter belt.
When she turned Burt was surprised to see the usual shape of her pubic hair was different. It was still like a heart but seemed smaller, lighter in color. His brow furrowed and she swayed enticingly before him.
"Whatcha do to your cunt hair?" he asked.
She giggled. "Nothing."
"Horse shit. It's smaller, the hair ain't as dark. Like you got a haircut and permanent or something." He couldn't remember her leaving the office all day, or the day before for that matter. When did she get it done?
"A lady has to keep up appearances, Burt," she slyly said, "and take care of herself if she wants to keep her man happy."
"When did you get it done? Where did you go?"
She saw the glint of anger in his eyes and thought fast. "I did it myself, you fool. At home last night."
He settled back down. "Oh."
She breathed easier. In fact she had it done at work only that afternoon. She'd called in one of the men who worked in cosmetic research, he had worked for years at one of the better beauty parlors and was a known expert with depilatories. It was two wonderful hours of luxury having a handsome young man work so industriously at grooming her crotch. He did an excellent job and she gave him a very generous tip, the first pleasure derived from her newly bobbed and bleached snatch.
Burt stripped his clothing off and let it fall on the floor. He stared at the outrageous heap of black pubic hair surrounding his lengthy tool. It was disorderly, matted, and grew like wildfire down between his legs. He chuckled, wondering what he'd look like with hairless thighs and trimmed cock hair.
His musing was interrupted by Sylvia coming to her knees before him. Her hand snaked around his warm prick and stroked up and down, then her open lips started to caress the length. She was wet and soaked the tool with saliva, her tongue darting out to taste his flavor and tickle his balls. Burt stared down at her bobbing head and wondered if Jill sucked cocks or how quickly she'd learn to do it as well as her mother.
Sylvia opened wide and inserted the oversized glans between her sucking lips. It was now a familiar but still exciting mass of stretching thickness. She drove down on it until she was full, her tongue flattened like a blanket under the deep digging log of hardness. "Mmmmmm," she moaned.
"Yeah, baby, eat my cock up. Suck me off, you skinny-assed cunt! Eat my piss stick!" She shivered with pleasure. His vile words were now a common thing between them but they never failed to arouse her. She pushed down hard and felt his cock head squeeze into the constriction of her throat. "Put a finger in my asshole," he snapped.
Sylvia obeyed without hesitation. Her small hand squirmed up to the jutting meat of his white buttocks and found the deep crack. She worked a finger into the snug chamber until it located his eager anus. With a slow pressure the finger sank into Suit's asshole. He smiled. "Now twist back and forth. Ream my ass."
She followed his orders while still drawing at his long prick with hard suction and soft lips. His pecker was so hot and pounding so strongly she knew her reward would come soon. But he suddenly stepped back, his wet shaft slopping away from the searching openness of her mouth.
"Huh?" she whimpered.
"Suck your finger." He stood before her, folded arms, threatening glare.
Sylvia swallowed. He always dreamed up some disgusting act for her to perform. She slid the finger in her mouth and sucked off the thin moisture. Burt seemed happy and stepped forward. She took the massive head of the cock back into her eager mouth.
Burt felt great. She was his slave. His rich, beautiful, sex-slave. Whatever he said, she did. If Louie Branco could see him now it would show the pompous big-timer how divorce jobs can really pay off. Not only was he getting super sex, he was getting big money too. Burt was sure Louie Branco would be green with envy and admiration.
His rough hands slid around her head and Sylvia knew he was about to ejaculate. A thudding excitement rose in her body, her mouth grew incredibly wet. The deep-digging pecker sloshed into the warm saliva several times before he clamped her small head hard into the hair of his crotch.
She was smothered with prick once again. His musty flesh and hairy belly were against her face as the giant root tunneled into her open, churning throat. It was the most powerful plunge he had forced her into, the cock speared against part of her esophagus it had never touched before. Her mouth was stretched wide open and curly hairs tickled her lips. Then he started to lurch violently at her.
She tried to relax and feel the sudden jolts of jism spewing into her throat. When she sucked him off well he usually rewarded her with the last few spurts in her mouth, but this time he seemed angry, vengeful. With another quick movement his cock slid from her throat and Sylvia sighed, her tongue reaching out to grab at the spraying bounty.
But his prick left her mouth completely and he jerked back on her head until she was arched back, her breasts thrusting up at his hips. Burt leaned down and sent the streams of gushing juice onto the two breasts half cupped in the strapless bra. White ooze leaked across the downy breasts and deep into the black satin cups of the bra.
"Oh God," Sylvia moaned as she felt his steaming jism seeping ever lower around her breasts. She was a mess, splotches of the pasty cream were on her throat, her breasts, dripping in long lazy streams from the black lace.
"There, suck that up and when you're done I want to see you bent over the back of that chair with your hot little ass shoved out and waiting. Understand?" His voice was cruel, loud.
"Yessir," she whispered, on her knees, scooping at the white goo with her fingers. She removed the bra and sucked each dot of glistening cream from it, then she wiped her breasts clean and licked her hands and fingers. Burt lounged on the bed as if he wasn't interested. That was his new trick, she figured, pretending he didn't care.
Burt watched through the corner of his eye. She leaned across the back of the stuffed chair, her waist bending and legs stretching down to touch the floor. But to really bend over it she had to let her feet lift off the floor and balance on her hips, her spiked ass jutting out like a second head. A head with its own mouth and moustache ... but only one eye.
He let her lie like that for several minutes, pretending not to notice her obscene position. Then he slowly got up off the bed and stood behind her. His hand slapped across the soft whiteness of her ass.
"Ahhhh!" she cried in pain.
"That's for getting your cunt shaved without my permission," he yelled.
"I'm sorry! I didn't know!"
"Well, you know now." His middle finger abruptly speared into her pink asshole. The ring of tight flesh -; no longer resisted him, but peeled back willingly as he ; probed deep into her slippery wetness and trembling warmth.
"Right up your ass, baby," he chuckled. "I got my finger so far up your ass that the knuckle is buried." He bent the finger and twisted.
She strained against the chair, her hands grabbing at the arms for balance. "Auuuugh!" she cried.
"Hurt? Does my little finger hurt?" he happily asked. "Then let's see how much my big prick hurts,"
He stepped behind her. Sylvia had only enough time to gasp for air before the sledge-headed cock rammed into her ass. It plunged without pause until it was full depth, turning her rectum into a whirlpool of screaming passions and pains. She never felt anything so brutal and huge in her whole life.
"Oooooohhhhhh," she moaned, wondering why she put up with this maniac.
He pushed his deep-probing rod into her until her ass was pressed flat against his hips. Then he held. "Like it? Like to feel your hot ass stuffed up with my big pecker? Just like some two-bit slut who sells her cunt on the street ... that's all you are. A bad-breathed slut who sucks men off in the back of a taxi."
Her backside shuddered against him, a slight twisting started in her hips. He grinned. The black garter belt was cutting into her waist, the strap of the bra tight against her flawless back. He reached under her and jerked at the bra until the elastic was about to snap. Then he let go. The halter bounded back and pinned her swinging tits against her chest. The nipples grew red with enticement, thick billows of white meat puffed out around the tight straps.
He slid his taut shaft slowly from her squeezing hole until the glans was only partly inside. Then he jerked out fast and her anus collapsed shut with a sudden gush of escaping air. His cruel laugh filled her ears as she felt his hands working at her again, digging roughly at her cunt, poking into her ass, twisting, jamming, taunting.
When she heard the soft hum of the vibrator she tried to get up. His hand clamped down hard on the small of her back. "You're not going anywhere, cunt!" he snapped.
"What are you doing?" she cried.
Then the cock-shaped vibrator hummed against her anus and he pushed the nine-inch length of pointed pink plastic inside her with one plunge. "Ahhhhhhh!" she squealed as her rectum started to shake violently.
His prick slammed up into her hanging twat and drove inside her with a painful lurch. She could feel the digging vibrator and pumping prick turning her guts into steam it hurt, it shook, it made tears come to her eyes. But Sylvia's hands left the arms of the chair and came up to her tits, squeezing fiercely at the gourds until the pain was complete and she hurt everywhere that it counted. "God! Yes! Fuck me everywhere at once!"
Burt's big stomach was perfect. It trapped the end o� the vibrator and as he pushed his cock inside her squirming cunt, the belly shoved the vibrator inside , her trembling ass. He backed away slowly and the ;. pecker slid out. The vibrator remained imbedded between her proud ass cheeks. "Shit it," he said. "Shit the vibrator out."
Sylvia heard him through the dull whirring in her head. She grimaced and tightened her ass on the buzzing rod. Her guts shook without stop but the thing slowly slid out of her squeezing anus. Burt lunged against her again, the two peckers shoved deep into her swirling guts and she yelped.
"Like it? Like getting it both ways at once?" he yelled at her hanging head.
"Yessssss! Fuck me until I can't move!"
With a howl of pleasure he banged his burning muscle into her with a flurry of speed. The vibrator managed to slip out occasionally and get jammed back in by his hard stomach. Rivers of wet juice streamed down her thighs, filled the crease of her ass, dripped from the hairy sack of swinging testicles under Burt's battering cock.
She felt humiliated, degraded, filthy. But her body had never felt so excited. She was trembling everywhere. Several small orgasms had passed through her crotch but she couldn't move, and just let them melt her snatch. But a big one was sure to come, she was positive it would happen. And she knew it would be explosion of unequalled pleasure.
Her climax hit like an exploding jet-liner. She stiffened, then heaved her packed ass and cunt back at his thrusting body. A loud slap of wet flesh crescendoed in their ears, then her animal howl of satisfied lust. "Yesssss! Punish me! Punish me for being such a bad wife and mother!" she screamed at the top of her voice.
Burt clamped his hand over her mouth and kept spearing his hot cock inside her galloping snatch. She lost all control. Her body went into berserk spasms of writhing torture against him as she tried to engulf more and more of the two jamming rods. He slipped back and she followed, her hungry ass plastered tight against him. His legs met the bed and he fell onto his back.
Sylvia plummeted down on his stabbing root and the singing vibrator. Everything was in place, tearing at her guilt-filled holes like flames from hell. She whipped herself from side to side in an attempt to grind down even harder: her tits slammed back and forth, her hands grabbed at the bed for balance.
"God! It's sooooo much! Soooo much cock inside me! It hurts so damned much I can't stand it!" she cried.
Her hand came down to plow at the vibrator while she still rode his stiff dick. Burt watched in shock as she pumped the pink plastic with amazing speed, digging, probing, trying to suck the whole thing right inside her asshole. She poured molten cream down on him and it sloshed like tidal waves into, his pubic hair. She strained down with one last heave and went into a slow, swaying movement on his lap.
"All done?" he asked. Softly, a little fear in his voice.
"I've never felt anything so fully in all my life," she sighed before falling onto the bed.
Burt kneeled next to her limp, exhausted body, his hand stroking his tremendously aroused cock. She stared at him through half-closed eyes as he masturbated with increasing fervor. When the spray of sloppy cream splashed on her face she didn't even react. It was a hot shower, sticky, running, gooey. It puddled on her lips and she didn't even have 'the strength, to suck it in.
Burt was mad. She had been lying on the bed for almost half an hour, breathing slowly, not even bothering to lick up his jism. It was all over her in cold, dripping blotches but she didn't even care. She used to love it. Now she was acting as if something had snapped inside her pretty head. The silence was too much for him, he stirred in his chair.
"Hey?" he called at her.
"What?" she whispered.
"You all right? Anything wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong," she sighed.
"Then why are you lying there? Why don't you get up?"
"I'm thinking."
"What about?"
"Nothing."
He stood up and searched through his clothes on the floor. His shorts were soiled but he pulled them on without noticing. "You worried about our deal? The blackmailing of Tom?"
"A little."
"Well, I'm collecting the three grand tonight. He's suffered enough and I need the money."
She didn't seem to care. She closed her eyes and looked as if she was sleeping. Burt found his undershirt and pulled it on. "You worried about us? Is that it? You having second thoughts about our part of the deal?"
Her eyes opened. "Maybe," she murmured.
"Well, you can quit worrying about that too. I got a way you can pay off your end right away. No big thing. If you want to get together with me after that it's up to you. No more blackmail or anything."
"Oh?" She finally looked awake, she was interested.
"Yep. I decided to save you a lot of fuckings with me if you think we're getting on each other's nerves."
"I don't think that," she said.
"Maybe not, but anyway I got a better idea for your payoff. The next time you come to meet me bring that daughter of yours. What's her name, Jill? Tomorrow night should be good."
Sylvia's mouth fell open and she tried to scream. Nothing came out. Then she was off the bed and swinging her fists at his foul face. Burt pushed her away with one hand but she jumped back. His big fist crashed into the tenderness of her nude stomach and sent her back onto the bed.
"Listen to me, you fucking cunt! You have no choice! Either you bring your daughter to me or I'll mail the old man the pictures! He'll divorce your ass and claim you're an unfit mother. If I have to testify for him I will! I'll tell the judge how you sucked me off, let me fuck you in the ass, how you trim your snatch like some damned valentine and how you love to suck up sperm! Got it? Understand? Not only will you lose your rich husband, you'll lose your daughter too!"
"You bastard!" she groaned while holding her stomach.
"You bet I am and that's what you love about me! Remember this, you have everything to lose or everything to protect! I just want Jill once, that's all! And I won't be rough with her, not a sweet little kid like her. Have her here tomorrow night at six o'clock."
"Shut up, you son of a bitch!" she howled as tears ran down her face.
"And don't try running away, either. Cause I'm being paid to watch you. I'll find you and your daughter and rape the both of you silly! Got it?"
"Get out! Get out, you cruel beast!"
He finished dressing and left with his laughter ringing in her drumming ears.
Chapter 8
"Mother is out late again tonight?"
He nodded and Jill was touched by the sadness In his eyes. Ever since her mother married him Jill had grown to respect and admire her step dad more and more. Now the effects of her mother's frequent nights away from home were showing on him; he was tired, worried about what his wife was doing.
It reminded Jill of the stories she read in the confession magazines. Wives sneaking out on their husbands, taking advantage of the men who slaved all day to support and house and dress them. It was terrible, and they all seemed to be searching for some missing ingredient in their lives, something they usually found back at home after a tearful reconciliation. This was a similar situation. Of course Percival didn't work, he'd done all that years ago before retiring. But it still counted. He was a wealthy and renowned surgeon but his wife was out searching for more excitement and romance.
Jill filled her mouth with string beans and chewed. Her stepfather's age probably had a lot to do with it. That was a shame, that her mother couldn't bridge the gap of years. Jill felt she could, yet the differences between her and Percival was even greater. But Jill found older men much more exciting than the boys her age, the immature, teasing brats who didn't even know how to carry on a decent conversation.
Percival swallowed his potatoes and looked at Jill. He wondered what she was thinking about so deeply. Had his extreme actions the other might caused her to wonder? Was she aware of what he was doing to her? He shook himself. It was impossible. She was under sedation, impossible. Yet, her clear blue eyes stared with such intensity and concentration.
"What's on your mind, dear?" he suddenly asked.
She swallowed. "Mother. Does she have to stay out late so often?"
Percival sighed with relief. "She's a busy woman, Jill. She has responsibilities to the cosmetic company."
"At night? She should be home here with us."
Jill's statement was direct and strong but Percival wanted to head off any confrontation between her and her mother. It might possibly result in Sylvia's staying home too often, which might interfere with his plans for Jill.
"The cosmetic business is a hard one," he said defensively. "And we shouldn't begrudge your mother's independence. She's quite a woman, one to be proud of."
Jill was silent. She was touched with his honest respect and admiration of her mother. But down deep inside she had the feeling the sentiments weren't being returned. Her mother had to be out with some man, dining by candlelight, listening to violin music, being swept away on a cloud of swirling romance. But just as the stories all said, some day that cloud would split open and Sylvia would come tumbling back down to earth.
"Can we watch television together tonight?" she suddenly asked. "Please."
Percival was pleasantly surprised. He hadn't planned on any training sessions tonight but watching television didn't mean he'd have to do that. "I like the idea, my dear."
After they finished cleaning the kitchen each ran to their rooms and changed into more comfortable attire. Percival put on his pajamas and smoking jacket. When he entered Jill's elaborately decorated .bedroom he was stunned by her choice of television clothes.
It was a negligee. A very brief one. Peach color. He stopped in his tracks and stared at the shortie top which draped down over her firm breasts like a veil of fog. Her large pink nipples were clearly visible, even the suntan lines of her bikini swimsuit were discernible.
The top came down to the middle of her backside and ended with a frilly hem of lace. Her rump was tightly hugged by abbreviated panties with identical lace around the legs. Abundant hunks of her white fanny escaped the almost useless cover of the undies, even the crack of her ass was visible. Due to the large size of her high breasts the front of the gown was almost as high as her naval. The film of peach color stretched down across her ripe, puffy crotch like a layer of flesh. The nylon clung to her so thoroughly that her front crease was outlined clearly where the material slid between taut vaginal lips.
Percival took a deep breath. His astonishment was too great to hide.
"It's mother's," she said casually. "She never wears it so I thought I'd use it. It's cool and much more comfortable than my flannel nightgown."
"It certainly looks cooler," Percival said, trying to compose himself.
She plopped onto one of the two stuffed chairs in front of the small black and white television. Percival took the other seat, his mind still reeling.
The nightie was an outrage. But it looked like a childish phase on her part. Anyway, it did give her juvenile body a ludicrous sort' of appeal, as a costume would. The thing fit her even better than her mother, nothing seemed to want to stay in place. Her legs were fully exposed of course, but so were large portions of her hips and buttocks and the wide armholes failed to keep her full breasts covered and arousing stretches of bountiful flesh kept rolling into view.
It was during a commercial that Jill grew dissatisfied with her chair and ended up sitting on the floor. Legs crossed, hands on her knees, like a yogi. Percival tried to force his attention to the set but couldn't keep from glancing down at her lithe young form.
Then she stretched out on her side, the heaped rounds of her rump with the filmy cover of peach nylon laid at his feet. They were such perfect melons, haughty, curving. He could even see the dimples above each ass-cheek and the way the undies grabbed up into her crack was driving him to distraction.
She stirred again, vainly trying to find a comfortable position for her vibrant body so used to movement and unhappy being still. She bounced on her rump until her back found the arm of Percival's chair, her round shoulder snuggled against his thigh, her blonde-haired head lowered onto his leg to rest. Percival held his breath, she was so close, so warm, so delectable.
He made one last attempt to drive her from his pounding mind. His eyes focused on the television. A wildly violent detective show was splattering blood and bodies across the screen. It reminded Percival of Burt Collins, the inept fool who was trying to play him for a bigger fool. Burt could have easily been apart of the show, Percival mused. One of the corpses.
He had almost succeeded in blotting Jill from his senses when he felt her fingers gently stroking his leg. It was an affectionate petting, innocent enough but distracting. He tried harder to follow the detective show. The tickling fingers grew bolder, openly stroking his leg through the smoking jacket and pajamas. Then he felt her hand slide under the jacket and rest on his pajamas and leg.
Percival didn't dare move. He was curious and astonished at the same time. Her behavior seemed familiar, like a natural and normal thing they did frequently. In fact, it was. But she wasn't supposed to be aware of it.
Jill's mind was racing. She had lost track of the detective show long ago. Her head was reeling with questions and doubts. Why was he just sitting there? Why didn't he touch her, stroke her, make her body feel so warm and good? Had she done something wrong? Was he mad?
She couldn't hold back any longer. Her fingers tenderly stroked his leg as a gesture of desire, a hint. He wasn't responding but, on the other hand, he wasn't telling her to stop. Maybe he was tired of making all the advances? She had read about that too. Maybe it was her turn to be the aggressor and show him how much she appreciated his maturity and strength and kind lessons in love.
Her hand kept working further along his thigh, closer to the amazing organ she'd had such wonderful fun with the other night. It had been such a tremendous thrill to at last feel him inside her body that had been aching so long for him. To taste his manly flavor with her own mouth. God! If the girls at school knew she had done something like that they'd go insane with envy! But, of course, she could never tell.
He was warm and soft but she knew where his hardness was. He seemed to want her to be bold and reach deep between his thighs where the big staff stood waiting. With all her courage and determination Jill forced her fingers further between his legs, and up. She felt the iron-hard spike and pulled away.
Percival swallowed the grapefruit-sized lump in his throat. She was reaching for his cock! Actually asking him to have sex with her! And he hadn't used any sleeping powder or sedative. Her training was more than complete, it was beyond the expectations of her teacher! He didn't move a muscle; he had to see how far this child would go.
She touched his erection again. He felt her dainty fingers press against the throbbing hardness through his pajamas. There was no doubt about it, the last touch hadn't been some mistake. She wanted to feel his cock.
Jill's hand was trembling but she decided her fears were foolish. If she was going to be a woman she had to learn to go after what she wanted. Her fingers once again found the stiffened prick and this time boldly wrapped around it. She squeezed the tense shaft of rock and waited. He didn't respond and nothing was as good as a go-ahead. She squeezed again.
Percival's pulse was pounding fiercely in his temples as her fingers gave his root the loving caresses. Then she started to dig inside his pajamas; she wanted to touch his raw, hot flesh. Feel his throbbing naked prick in her curious little hand. He never once thought of stopping her, he couldn't have done it anyway.
Jill felt the loose skin at the base of his upright cock. She knew what it was. A scrotum. That's what they called it in sex education class. But the best part j was above that, the penis. The erect penis. Big, hard, stiff and filled with hot blood all the way up to that top part, the glans. She curled her hand around his hot muscle and was amazed that she'd had that big thing inside her vagina.
She instinctively knew that he'd enjoy feeling her hand glide up and down. Up to the glans, down to the scrotum, slow, soft, gentle. At last she let her fingers explore the glans, the mushroom-shaped head of tender but rubbery flesh that grew extremely hot as she touched it.
Jill finally looked up at her stepfather and smiled. She seemed shy, a little embarrassed. "Am I doing it right?" she whimpered.
"Perfect, my dear. Absolutely perfect," he answered with short breaths.
"Good," she sighed. Then after several more slow strokes she looked up again. "Can I look at it? I'd like to see it."
He gulped and swallowed, his whole body was burning up and he prayed he could hold on long enough to see how far her appetite for knowledge would lead her. "Yes."
She used her free hand to untie the drawstring of his pajamas and part the flannel. The enormous mast in her hand made Jill's eyes go wide with wonder.
She watched the flared head as her hand moved with faster strokes. A heated excitement was now bubbling between her legs. An anxiousness to do many wonderful things with the strange rod of masculinity. She licked her lips and moved her face close to see the tiny hole at the very tip top of the red and purplish glans.
Percival drew in a deep breath. His dreams were answered. At last he and Jill could be open and honest with each other. The secret drugs and injections were over; she was now out of the closet he had so laboriously broken down. She had been introduced to the world of sex in the most innocent and painless way. Jill was a very fortunate girl.
She didn't know why she wanted to do it but did it anyway. It looked like something that needed a kiss, that little hole. Her puckered lips came down and pressed on his glans as the active hand kept pumping with tighter friction and faster speed. Her own arousal was being expressed in her hand, faster, hungrier, more and more frantic.
Percival felt the soft pressure from her kissing lips, the eager stroking of her hand. His heart was racing, his legs ached with thumping pain. He felt so young, so vibrant and filled with vigor.
Her lips were parting and he felt the exploration of her tongue tip on his hole. Tasting, feeling, digging inside to wipe at the slick interior lining. His whole root was pulsating with explosions of joy, he knew it was impossible to stem the rising expression of great lust in his guts. He grabbed her head and pulled her clean, sweet face away before she got splattered.
Jill's eyes were wide with amazement as she watched his enraged pecker turn into a spewing fountain of happiness. Powerful eruptions of sparkling semen shot from the end and sprayed out like fourth of July fireworks. She felt the impulse to smother the wasted display with her mouth, to gobble up the valuable seed squirting so high in the air.
It came down in great splatters on her still pumping hand. It caught on his cock-head and hung in lazy arcs of gleaming whiteness. Some of the amazing jelly did land on her face and leaked down onto her pink lips. Jill slipped her tongue out to taste the juicy stuff and slip it into her mouth.
Percival's hips were heaving into the air, his legs straining with the throes of his wonderful orgasm. He only regretted it was such a pitiful display of uncontrol. It would have been so much better to impress her with tremendous stamina and wait until his cock was lodged inside her jerking body before creaming out his load. But it was happening and he couldn't stop it even if he wanted to.
When his body began to relax he expected Jill to draw away and let him go to the bathroom. But she didn't. Her body climbed even closer, an arm swung across his legs and she kept stroking the fast recession of his softening prick. She glanced at him and he saw a sparkle of intelligence in the blue eyes, then she turned to his jism-splattered crotch and flicked her tongue.
He swallowed with awe as she stroked her tongue into his matted pubic hair and licked away the juice. Then she kissed up the many puddles on his stomach and pajamas before kissing his limp cock as it lay cradled in her tender hand. She mouthed the soft worm into the suction of her lips and drew off all the tasty delight.
He moaned with pleasure as her sweet lips and tongue moved so delicately across his exhausted tool. She sucked at the pliant prick with hard, long pulls and realized that each time it seemed to grow. It was a slight growth, hardly noticeable. But it was growth.
Before Percival realized what she was doing she had his spent pecker remembering the excitement it held earlier. He opened his eyes and watched with a stunned expression as she' ambitiously worked her mouth on his pecker. She was doing it, he was feeling the deep arousal, his cock was responding already. The old man wanted to cry out with unbounded joy as he felt himself bouncing back like a young boy.
"Yes, my dear. Suck it until it gets hard again. That's the way a real woman does it!" he excitedly said.
The musical hum of her happy mouth was the finest answer he could imagine. Her blonde head bobbed up and down on his lap, taking the half-hard root fully, twirling it inside sucking lips, lashing it with a hot, wet tongue that refused to say quits.
"Let's go to bed, my dear," he suggested. "That way I can please you with my mouth at the same time."
She was on her feet instantly. "Really? Will you?" Her uncontained happiness made him want to cry tears of satisfaction. What better partner could I ask for? he asked himself.
Jill bounced onto her large bed with the pink bedspread. He saw her as a graceful vision of pink, peach, blonde hair and glowing flesh. Her straight white teeth flashed behind her ecstatic smile as the tender fullness of her breasts stopped wobbling and the tense nipples stared through the negligee with expectation and desire.
Percival removed his smoking jacket and came down beside her on the bed. Jill's eager arms wrapped around his neck and drew his face to hers. They shared a long, deep-stroking kiss of passionate thirst. His hands shook no more as they glided along the shapely contours of her velvet legs.
"Oh, daddy, you make me feel so wonderful," she sighed as their lips parted. "You make me feel so much like a woman. A real woman!"
He burrowed his delighted face into the heaving cushions of tender breast and felt the nipples jab and poke at his eyes and mouth. She arched into him, driving the famished gourds hotly against him, writhing her fully developed tits with growing fire and intensity. "Suck them, kiss them," she begged.
Percival plunged his open mouth down on the delicious caps and tasted the sugary moistness of burning nipples slipping against his licking tongue. Gooseflesh sprang up around his every touch to make the inexperienced beauty seem even more virgin, more new, more anxious to learn. The elastic tightness of her hard-peaked tits bounded between his drawing lips as she caught her breath in short, erratic gasps.
Her curious hand once again found his relaxed pecker and gave it a loving squeeze. She purred with womanly satisfaction as he licked her breasts into slick heaps of quivering happiness and she pumped at the warm, loose-skinned tissues of his awakening prick. She was on her back and felt the slow travels of his nonstop tongue and lips moving away from her breasts. He licked across the prominent rise of her heaving rib cage until finding the abrupt plunge to her shivering, collapsing belly. The flat plateau of clean skin was totally unflawed except for her navel and a small mole two inches to the side.
His searching mouth found the mole and concentrated on it. The tip of his excited tongue circled and pressed as his lips sucked at the surrounding flesh. A full-bodied tremble took her thrashing torso with sudden excitement. Unending waves of whipping joy sped through her. She grabbed his gray-haired head and pressed it to her crying body as jolts of extreme happiness ripped inside her.
Percival not only felt her wonderful climax, he tasted it. Her skin started to flood with perspiration and she became a greased wildcat under his washing-tongue. He moved his mouth to her deep navel and drove himself inside to feel the shuddering quakes of her moaning stomach.
When she started to calm he realized her hand had pumped his tired root up to fine proportions. It felt good, strong, almost as hard as he wanted. He kissed the sparse patch of silk between her wide-open thighs while pushing down on the peach-colored panties. They were caught by the spread of her legs and she had to draw them together. He removed them 'from her long, constantly moving legs with his teeth.
He saw the way her pretty little cunt was squashed into a waiting mass of pinkish flesh between the folds of her ass and hot thighs. He kissed the full length of the upturned thigh and down to the juice-smeared tenderness of her waiting rump. "Ahhhhh ... ohhhhh ... " she cried as the torrents of uncontained joy traveled along with his tongue.
She rolled to the side until reaching the resilient hardness of his splendid root with her eager-to-suck mouth. As she came down on his prick with her thrashing tongue he pressed his face between her happy thighs and kissed. She climbed onto him and slammed her mouth down to swallow the huge spike as he thrust his sharp tongue deep inside the squirming lips of her gash.
Percival felt her sugary-lipped slit tighten on his deep-stabbing tongue. Her thighs buckled in and out and through the muffling effect on his ears he heard her cry of release. The tasty snatch slammed on his exciting tongue as waves of contraction spilled down, then flows of deliciousness, a liqueur to be enjoyed only by the most fortunate.
Her ass heaved down on him with each plunge and swirling twist of his languishing tongue. His nose found the snug comfort between the globular cheeks and tapped at the pink dot of her anus. He slid his wet tongue up between the mounds of grinding joy and gave the hole a slow lick.
She climaxed again. Her howling body slammed down on him, the furious gasps for breath whistled around his mouthed cock. She jerked her legs up until she was kneeling over him, then aimed her hot little ass down at his thrilling mouth. When she felt the mushy press of the tongue against her asshole she shivered everywhere, her eyes rolled with the wonder of where it could all end.
He rolled his tongue back and forth as it moved into her yielding anus, as the cheeks of her ass stretched far apart with tender urgings of his hands. She took his whole whip and screamed with sucking delight as her throat gobbled down his complete spear.
Percival could take it no longer. Her ripeness was turning him into a frantic animal. The pulse slammed in his temples as her young heat transferred to his mature body. He rolled her away and quickly crawled between her splayed legs. Her mouth was open and waiting for his, her tight pussy was spilling with hunger, her yielding body twisting with wanton eagerness.
"Do it to me, daddy. Make me feel like a woman! Please!"
Her begging cries were unnecessary. Nothing could have stopped Percival from inserting his shaft inside that elastic hug of her juicing gash. When his massive cock-head touched the wet lips she heaved with youthful abandon up at him. The prick pushed her open and plunged inside like a diver entering the water.
Her hands rested on his grinding rump as he plied his stiffness into her mellowness, as her working thighs clamped at his hips and urged him deeper and deeper. Their tongues washed together, his finger found her tingling anus and slid inside. Everything was so full, so wet, so ecstatic.
As his body made deep grinds down and into hers she learned to meet him with lifting hips and scrubbing tits. Their rhythms found each other, their wet organs glided together smoothly. She purred in his ears and licked his perspiring face as the long root took her happiness to the greatest plateau yet.
"Yes! Oh! Ahhhhhhhh!" she howled as another quake of delighted joy throbbed through her.
Percival jammed himself inside the chewing tightness of her slick heat and felt his cock being squashed by strong muscles. His finger was squeezed by her shivering anus, her mouth clamped down to hold on to his tongue. Then he realized how close he was to repaying her wonderful orgasms.
He stiffened, his legs grew as hard as his erection and he strained down deep inside her. The squashed glans of his cock rambled, the whole length of his tightly held pecker shuddered, a fierce pressure struggled through it before he felt the choking release of his pent-up cream.
"I feel it! I feel it wetting me!" she cried with the joy of discovery. "It feels so hot and full!"
He plastered himself with animal thrusts into her churning, overflowing pit of thrills. She battered up and heaved against the spilling hose to make sure everything found a home, inside her. She beamed with satisfaction and happiness as his exhausted body came to rest on her soft warmth.
He was very still, breathing deeply; her small hands stroked his wet back and fatigued rump as she whispered "You were so good to me, daddy. You made me feel so wonderful. I love you and never want to be with anyone but you ... "
Chapter 9
The streets were dark and mostly deserted until Torn pulled onto Main Street and headed for Wally's Drive-in at the far end of the wide avenue. Cars, primarily carrying the youth of the area from late movies up to the hills where they could plow into each other's pants with nervous hands, clogged the traffic. Tom glanced at his watch it was five minutes before midnight. A knot of nervousness formed in his guts as he chewed his lip. Three times he had made appointments to meet the blackmailer and make the payoff. And each time the creep failed to show. He didn't know if this would be another false try or not, but he had no choice, none at all.
The attach� case at his side had three thousand dollars in small, unmarked bills just like the gravel-voiced man said. Tom wanted nothing more than to pay him off, get the negatives, escape with his reputation and marriage intact. If only the bastard would show up and take the stinking money!
He pulled into the auto-jammed parking lot of Wally's and wondered what he was supposed to do. He got out and locked the car, then carried the attach� case into the restaurant, found a seat near the doors and sat down, nervously glancing at the clock. It was midnight exactly. He ordered coffee from the waitress and waited. At twelve fifteen the waitress came to his table and asked, "Are you Tom Burns?"
"Yes," he said, somewhat startled.
"There's a phone call for you at the register."
It was the gravel-voiced man. "Wait two minutes, then go outside. Go into the phone booth at the edge of the parking lot and pretend to make a call. Leave the money in there when you leave."
"Okay, but what about the ... "
"After I make sure all the money is good I'll leave the negatives inside. You go back into the coffee shop and wait until you see my car drive away from the phone booth, then go out and get your negatives."
He followed instructions. Burt Collins sat in his car where he had been watching Tom for the past quarter hour. Tom went to the phone booth and left the attach� case. He returned to the restaurant. Burt started his car and drove to the phone booth. He slid out on the far side of the car so Tom couldn't see him. The case was there, the money just as Burt wanted it. The detective fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the negatives. He paused. He would be a fool to leave them. He put them back and pulled a set of negatives from his other pocket, ones he had taken at an auto show years ago. Useless, half blurred. He set them on the phone stand and touched a match to the edge. They flamed up and he jumped to his car and drove away.
When Tom reached the phone booth he found the ashes of the negatives, a tiny piece of celluloid still burning. He swallowed, they were destroyed at last. If they were the right negatives. He had no choice but to pray they were.
Burt Collins clattered noisily into his poorly furnished flat and whooped with joy. He had pulled it off without a hitch. He undressed after hiding the attach� case under his paper-littered desk. When he climbed into bed he thought about phase two of his great plan, Sylvia's presentation of Jill to him.
She would do it, he knew it. Sylvia was too wrapped up in her world of wealth and comfort to let It fall down around her slim ankles. She'd do anything to protect her sweet deal, anything, she had already proved that with her hot body. Now she'd come through and prove her greed for Percival's money with the limber young body of her only daughter.
Burt chuckled and gave his prick a firm squeeze. He slept like a log with his own visions of wealth and happiness dancing in his head. He was going to eat Jill up like a fresh piece of cherry pie a la mode.
Percival Stone spent a quiet morning in his study. He felt wonderful except for one thing. Sylvia had asked Jill if she'd take the bus to the city this afternoon and meet her for dinner. That was strange behavior for Sylvia. But when she justified it by saying she knew Jill was unhappy with her frequent absence at night and wanted to have a chance to be alone with her, Percival had no argument. But it bothered him.
Jill was thrilled with the idea. Percival couldn't bring himself to try and discourage the idea through the young girl either. So he had a lonely night ahead of him. But he knew there'd be other nights. When the phone interrupted his thoughts he grabbed for it quickly, it was the call he was waiting for.
He listened in silence as the caller spoke in rapid-fire words. Percival nodded. "I see ... oh ... now I understand. Yes, she's having Jill come up to Sphinx Cosmetics right after school. Yes, yes, it does look that way."
His face was dark with somberness and anger. His bushy gray eyebrows pulled together. Then the caller changed the subject and elicited the following response: "No, no, it's not like the old days anymore, is it? Things are much more complex and disgusting these days. But some of the old tactics still work, don't they?"
Percival laughed, then added, "Good. Tonight. Yes."
When he hung up the phone his anger overflowed. His fist Mt the desk with absolute fury, the hands didn't shake. They clenched as if they were around someone's throat.
The bus terminal was less than a block from Sphinx Cosmetics and Jill had assured her mother that she could walk it. Sylvia wanted to have someone meet her but Jill insisted on doing it all by herself. The terminal was a beehive of activity, slick pimps whistled at her, one even winked and asked if she had a place to stay. She haughtily ignored them and pressed through the crowds toward the door.
A hand, a nasty, squishing hand managed to find the tempting fullness of her ripe ass and dig in for a thorough massage. She was jammed between the bodies shoving for the revolving door, her head whipped around to throw glances of accusation. But there were so many people, an old man, a well-groomed young man, a priest, a chunky cleaning lady and a soldier. She had no idea who was attacking her fanny.
The hand somehow got under her skirt and she felt a spearing finger tear up into the soft crack of her ass. She twisted away and heaved, herself into the people. Somehow she managed to work her way through the bodies and find the street. Tears were welling behind her bright blue eyes and a heated sensation of deep arousal shuddered in her belly.
They had dinner at an expensive, chandelier-lit restaurant. Jill's pulse beat quickly as she and her mother drank wine and ate in such splendor, like two grown women out on the town. They talked about school, clothes, cosmetics and boys. Then Sylvia filled Jill's wineglass again.
Sylvia was ripped into shreds of conflict inside even though it didn't show on her smiling, happy face. Her little girl was now a woman. And her mother was an unconscionable witch about to sacrifice her to the unthinkable acts of Burt Collins. Sylvia had wrestled within herself for hours, fearing Burt's threats, dreading Jill's fate, knowing all along that there was no choice if she wished to keep her comfortable marriage intact.
It's for Jill's good as well as mine, Sylvia kept telling herself over and over. Burt's blackmail must be stopped at all costs, even the cost of my young daughter's virtue, she concluded.
Jill sensed a deeply buried unease about her mother but said nothing. She assumed her mother was nervous about the affair she was definitely having. Jill's thoughts were more of what it was like than who it was with; she desperately hoped that her mother would confide all the juicy, womanly details to her.
When Jill finished her wine she felt lightheaded. Her eyes were slightly glassed and she giggled frequently. She had trouble understanding when her mother asked if she'd like to go with her somewhere. "To meet someone."
"Oh?" Jill asked. "Sure! Let's go!"
With her mother's arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders Jill managed to make it to the car. She felt very unsteady now and sat on the seat with great relief. She realized how high she was, how loose-limbed and warm her body was, how much she would now enjoy being in bed and having the things done to her she'd experienced the night before.
Sylvia drove from the restaurant to the parking garage of the Cornwall. She didn't notice the dark sedan glide out into traffic behind her at the restaurant, nor did she notice the way it passed by so quickly. It was Burt Collins, his thrilled nerves rattled beyond belief.
"She's doing it! She's got the young cunt with her!" he screamed loudly inside his car. He sped into the parking lot of the Cornwall before Sylvia arrived and jumped from his car. He dashed through the lobby and took the elevator up to the room he had reserved that afternoon. He had been resting there most of the day and had called Sylvia to tell her the room number. Even after hearing her agree to bring Jill he didn't believe it. He had been following them since they left Sphinx Cosmetics, lying in wait, making sure it was just the two of them.
Sylvia drove into the parking garage and found a place to park. Jill stared around at the strange surroundings, her eyes curious but still blurred. She hiccupped. Her mother climbed from her side of the car and came around, the door opened. Jill giggled and made an effort to stand.
Her mother's warm smile was reassuring. "I'll take you up to meet Burt and you can lie down to rest," she said.
"That's sounds good."
Sylvia was hoping Jill would pass out. Perhaps if Burt had his sick fun while Jill was unconscious it would be easier. It sounded that way but still didn't seem much comfort. Sylvia steered Jill's swaying body toward the door leading from the garage into the lobby of the Cornwall.
She didn't hear the screeching .tires until the long black car was almost on top of her. It came to a sudden stop between then and the door. Sylvia cried out, and Jill burped. Then Sylvia recognized the impressive vehicle and her heart sank down to the pit of her guts.
The side door swung open. A man stepped out. He was huge, well over six feet tall, his piercing eyes set under a Cro-Magnon skull, his thick lips curled back like those of an attack dog. Sylvia started to whimper. Jill screamed with terror as she saw the menacing monster, his broken nose, his barrel-like fists and tank like chest.
"Get in the car, little girl," he growled. Jill grabbed her mother's arm and shivered with fear.
"Don't be frightened, Jill. Come inside." The voice was familiar, kind, understanding, warm. She peered into the back seat and saw him. "Come to daddy," Percival Stone said to his stepdaughter.
"Oh, daddy!" she cried, climbing into the rear seat and giving him a thrilled hug. The next thing she noticed the car was moving, the chauffeur was steering them out of the garage. "Where are we going? What about mother?" she asked.
Percival hugged her warm body and replied, "Your mother has some business to attend to and we're going home."
"Can we watch television and have hot chocolate?" she eagerly asked, squeezing his thigh.
The old man chuckled. "Of course. Anything you want, Jill, my dear."
Sylvia Stone stood in frozen fear before the ominous, monstrous man. She gulped. Was he going to harm her? Who was he? She took a brave step forward and, surprisingly, he stepped aside. Her courage increased.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Someone your husband hired to help him with a problem."
"What problem?"
"Does it matter?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Sylvia decided escape was the best move and went through the door into the lobby. She was thankful the giant didn't follow her and headed straight for Burt's room. It wasn't until she opened the door and stepped inside that she realized she was arriving without the promised goods. Jill was gone.
"Where is she?" Burt yelled.
"Percival was in the parking lot! He took her away!" she cried in terror.
His hand smashed across her face and she went reeling across the room. "Bullshit! I saw you with her! What did you do? Chicken out? Send her home and think you could bullshit me out of our deal? Huh?"
He lunged at her like a wild bull and Sylvia screamed as his massive weight crashed down on her. She lost her air and felt a heavy curtain of darkness coming down.
Her consciousness returned in stages. At first she felt him ripping her expensive outfit, tearing it to shreds against the stinging flesh of her arms and legs. He was still cursing, calling her the most foul names she ever heard. Even in her half-aware state she drank the ugly insults in with relish.
"You cream-licking piece of whore's shit! You're not good enough to wipe my ass with your garbage cunt!"
"Ohhhhhh!" she moaned as he tore the lace bra away from her pink-nippled, ripe breasts.
He was slapping her tits. Whacking them violently back and forth with his open hands. The nipples screamed with outrage as they puckered into knots, the meaty flesh throbbed with pain and felt swollen, huge, beaten senseless. His hands grabbed down at the smarting breasts and the ringers dug into the pliant flesh. He gave each a hard, jerking twist until she gasped and cried.
"Uuuuhhh! Nooooo! It hurts!"
"That's just starters, you double-crossing gutter-cunt!" he screamed in her ear as his knee pinned her stomach to the bed and he leaned down over her "' crotch.
He ripped her bikini panties away with one powerful tear. Electric streaks of pain shot through her hips and legs. Then his brutal head lowered, she felt his mouth on her cunt, then it moved away. He was sucking her hair. No! His teeth were biting into the heart-shaped coiffure, he was chewing up a large mouthful of her silken hair. Then he tore his head up, his lips compressed around thick hairs that no longer had a home.
"Ahhhhhhhh! No!" Sylvia screamed through tears of pain as her whole crotch caught the fires of his torture. Her cunt hair was a shambles, half gone, shredded, destroyed. Her white flesh where the hair used to be was bright red, stinging, pimpling with biting misery.
Burt spit the curly hairs out and laughed with pleasure. "I like your new haircut, baby! It makes you look human!"
"You disgusting animal! You crude dog!"
His hands slammed her thighs wide apart and he spit on her splayed open cunt. "That's what I think of your perfumed snatch, baby! I think it makes a great toilet!"
Sylvia saw her chance. She whipped her leg through the air and caught him on the side of the head with her knee. Burt dropped to the floor and rolled over as she dashed for the door. But she had to stop, she was naked. She looked for something to grab. It was a mistake. He lunged like a football lineman, his head jamming into her stomach and again forcing the air from her lungs.
"You ain't going anywhere, baby!" he seethed. "I came here to get screwed and I'm not going until it happens. If your tight-assed daughter can't do the job-you'll have to take her place! It won't be as good fucking your old snatch but I'll find ways to enjoy myself."
He dragged her limp and painful body to the bed and threw her down, "Let's start off with you sucking on my asshole for a little while. You ought to dig that. You're full of shit anyway."
Sylvia's stomach turned as she watched him strip, then spread the large cheeks of his hairy ass and lower them down to her face. She smelled his body odor,, stared at the curly-haired crack and anus. It kept lowering until the ass was against her cheeks, the asshole firmly planted on her tightly closed mouth.
He sat on her face but she refused to open her mouth. Then his fingers started to twist and curl into her stinging pubic patch. Her lips parted and she sent her frantic tongue out to tease and caress his anus.
"Yeah, that's the stuff. Ream out my asshole with, your hot tongue, baby," he sneered.
Sylvia gulped and drove her pointed tongue into the wrinkled rim of the constricted hole. It gave way easily and she found herself imbedded in the mushing squeeze of his rectum. He pulled a single hair from her crotch and Sylvia frantically twisted the limber wet tongue in groping circles around his squirming ass.
"Right! That's the stuff! Eat me up, baby! Fuck my asshole with your hot tongue!"
She heard his delirious shouts and tried to ignore them: he was taunting her, trying to get her mad. She now knew her anger would bring out violence in him. He leaned well forward and she felt his warm testicles pressing against her chin; he was masturbating, working furiously at his erect pecker.
Burt's ecstatic grin was wide, his yellowed teeth clenched tightly and eyes half closed. His whole ass felt as if it had a whirlpool bath going crazy inside it. It was the wildest feeling he had in long time. His hand slammed with mighty strokes up and down on the trembling prick, turning it red, making it pulsate with hot anticipation.
His knees were on each side of her gasping ribcage, the wobbling breasts right below his steaming cock. The nipples were soft, smooth, unexcited. He went tense, then ground his thrilled ass down hard against her face as his prick began to cry with coming release. He aimed the flared head down at her right nipple and watched as it plastered a thick stream of jism against the fresh pinkness.
It splattered and spilled down the velvety white mass of warm flesh. He jammed his cock-head down on the left nipple to trap his next powerful eruption. Then he pulled away quickly and mushed the two gourds together and his buried cock spewed the third and final gush into her slick cleavage.
She stared at him with cold, hate-filled eyes but her hand did begin to move toward the glazed coating on her breasts. "Hold it, cunt!" Burt threatened. "You touch that cream and I'll pack a pillow up your ass."
She froze and wondered what his obscene mind was considering. He grinned. "Can I go now?" she meekly asked.
He laughed uproariously. "No! Not yet, baby! Not for quite a while, my dear!"
He ordered her not to move her hands, they were to stay at her sides. Sylvia nodded with fear. Then he pushed her legs wide apart and peered down at her poorly groomed box. "Keep 'em wide open. I think it's time for the vibrator again."
Sylvia groaned and wanted to protest. But she knew he was enjoying her humiliating torture; protests would only urge him on. He twisted the long pink plastic cock until it hummed with energy. His hands squeezed around it playfully as he said, "New batteries, runs better than ever."
Then he shoved it between her cunt lips and pushed. It burrowed deep inside her hole, humming, churning endlessly. Sylvia caught her breath, the tissues of her vagina steaming with heated arousal. The thing was ugly and embarrassing but it did do the job it was built for.
"Close your, legs and hold it in there," Burt instructed.
Sylvia followed orders and felt her creaming pussy clamp tight around the shaking plastic prick. It felt much stronger confined inside her like that, the vibrations made her belly quiver, her anus was shivering with raw excitement. Then a bucking orgasm cracked through her torso, jolting her into heaves of famished pleasure as the electric cock kept humming away.
He waited until her climax passed before speaking again. "I'm gonna rest and get my energy back, baby. But I don't want you cooling off. So, leave that thing in your snatch until I take it out. If you let it fall out I'll use my fist on your well cared for little box!"
He sat in the chair and left her on the bed. Nude, breasts covered with drying sperm, legs tight together with the buzzing bee's nest lodged inside her howling gash. She tried to ignore it but couldn't. Her head started to ache as long minutes passed and she began to shake everywhere. Another ripping climax burst inside her swirling body and she groaned with a frantic mixture of pleasure and unending torture.
Burt opened one eye and glanced at her. "That's it, baby. Let the pink prick do the job while I relax. Don't worry, I'll be with you in a while. Then I'll make you wish the plastic pecker was back in there." He laughed softly and closed his eyes.
She was writhing, trying to find a more comfortable position without letting the irritating buzz-bomb slide from her choking slit. It was impossible to find relief. The thing felt enormous, like a drill boring deeper and deeper, a sharp-toothed file rasping out her guts, a saber-saw enlarging her hole.
Her hips twisted and she grimaced with pain as the contractions of her cunt pressed against the electrifying shaft. Large tears filled her eyes; a new pain started to take over where the physical torture ended. She saw Jill's happy, sweet face smiling at her, making idle conversation over a wine glass. Sylvia sobbed why had she been so foolish as to think she could ever allow this vile animal to touch Jill? Then she asked herself if she was any better than the wheezing ape in the chair. Hadn't she tried to entice Jill here, to get her drunk and sacrifice her?
The artificial prick kept scorching her insides as she saw her old husband's scowling face. He knew all along and she thought he was so stupid. She should have known better than to try and fool the old fox, she had kept Burt silent but that didn't stop him from finding another detective to replace him. Now she was exposed, finished.
Burt had been watching. Her first orgasm was wild, the second was less energetic, the last was nothing more than a weary strain and moan. He stood up, his limp cock wiggling between his hairy legs. "Okay. Open up!" he snapped.
With a great sigh of relief Sylvia's legs opened and the baby pink vibrator moved slowly from her juice soaked cunt. He picked it up and moved it to her mouth. She-turned her weary head and a pitiful cry of anguish escaped her lips.
"Open your mouth and start sucking, cunt!" he bellowed.
She was defeated and knew it. Her mouth opened and he lodged the foul toy inside. She closed her lips around the thing softly and felt her throat and whole mouth churn unmercifully.
"Now roll over," he said.
She obeyed. The enjoyment she used to derive from his sadistic brutality was gone, the fun was drained from her long ago. Now she had to face the nightmare for what it was a nightmare. And one she knew she deserved.
He kneeled behind her, his prick stiffening at the sight of her pink anus and violet-lipped pussy. Hurt's strong fingers stroked his stick into an upright pillar of hardness before he viciously stabbed it into her burning cunt.
His prick plowed with unrelenting speed into her stinging gash until Sylvia's head lowered down to the bed; her backside remained spiked in the air. His huge body lurched heavily against her rump, jamming, battering his cock into her pleading pussy.
Then he was out and she felt him ram into her anus. The big stick took no mercy as it plowed a deep furrow up her ass, stabbing dull pains throughout her torso. But Sylvia no longer cared what he did, she no longer cared about anything. The thick-headed spike didn't arouse her.
Burt saw how his cock was failing to turn her on, how his humiliations were ineffective. He grabbed at her legs and pushed them between his knees. She lowered onto her belly and he came down full weight on her, feeling the lump her soft rump made against his hips, the splendid feel of smooth shoulders, the touch of velvet thighs. She was motionless as he heaved hungrily on top of her whole body.
The vibrator fell from her mouth as he humped on her with his full mass of fatty flesh. She was being smothered by his bulk and only hoped he kept it up until the life left her numb body. Burt felt a victorious surge inside his body. He had the high-class bitch beaten, she was tamed, fucked-out.
He made three last thrusts to full depth and felt her taut anus suck at his pumping meat. He was close. He jerked out of her, the flared head of the prick making her asshole pop with noise, and crawled up high on her limp form. His hands stroked twice before jets of sticky cream plastered her soft head of hair.
Sylvia felt his last disgusting act. The jism slopped into the short hair and stuck. It seeped to her scalp and matted the light brown strands into mucus filled lumps. It streamed down her forehead and temples, across her cheeks, onto her lips beside the still humming vibrator. She didn't care.
After Burt dressed he turned to the motionless form on the bed. "You've been fun, baby. I enjoyed screwing a class broad for a change. Then you turned into a piece of shit from the gutter just like all the rest. You ain't so much. You're just another slut who sucks pricks."
She didn't answer.
He was at the door. "Remember I still got the negatives, baby. And I still want that daughter of yours. You'll be hearing from me about it."
He closed the door and she was alone. Alone with, her thoughts of disgust, defeat, filth and ... and ... her daughter. Sylvia went to the bathroom with the intent of ending it all but couldn't find a razor blade. She shook herself and saw her splotched reflection in the mirror. She couldn't even buy a razor blade looking the way she did so she stepped into the shower and turned it on.
When Burt Collins got to the parking garage of the Cornwall he was whistling. He hadn't let her off the hook, no way. If he ever felt like a piece of ass he would call her up. And when he was in the mood he'd force her to get that tight-assed daughter into the action too.
The man who stepped out from the shadows startled Burt. He spun around and prepared to meet the stranger face on. The face was one he recognized instantly.
"Louie! Louie Branco. Hey, man what you doing here?"
Louie didn't smile like a friend would. He snorted and rubbed a hand across his unshaven chin. "Doing a job for an old friend," he said.
"Oh yeah," Burt nervously said. "Who?"
"I never divulge the name of my client," Louie said in a low growl. "But he's a surgeon. An old guy. A guy who I met years ago when he was doing plastic surgery on some very important faces. Big faces with big things to escape. The surgeon did the face and I did the rest. Know what I mean?"
Burt swallowed. "Guys in the mob? The big guys? Percival Stone's with the syndicate?"
Louie smiled for the first-time. "Let's call him a friend with good connections."
Burt started to back away. "What you doing for him?"
Louie stepped closer. Burt was pinned against his own car. "I promised him I'd take care of some negatives first. Not bum them, just deliver them to him."
"Okay, okay, Louie," Burt said in pure terror. "I'll give them to you! They're at my place! You can have them!"
"Good. That's what I like, cooperation. We'll go to your place and go through all your files while we're there."
"All of them?" Burt stammered.
"Sure. To see what's valuable and what should be dumped."
"But I need them, Louie!" His knees were shaking, Louie's hand was in his pocket, fidgeting.
"No, you won't, Burt. You're going out of business as of tonight."
"But ... "
"And if you aren't very cooperative I'll practice some of the plastic surgery I picked up watching the good doctor on you. Understand?" He withdrew a switchblade from the pocket. He didn't need to open it.
Burt felt the warm urine leaking down his leg and nodded with fierce sincerity. "Okay! Sure thing, Louie! Anything you say!"
"Good boy," Louie replied. "And afterwards we'll come up with some suitable punishment for what you been doing to the good doctor's little lady."
Burt's heart sank. He had heard other stories about Louie Branco, ones he always refused to believe. A man so big and tough couldn't be interested fooling around with other guys. A few men Burt knew suggested Louie went both ways, all ways. Burt always scoffed. Now he wasn't so sure.
Chapter 10
"Oh yesssssss, daddy ... Yessssss ... " Jill sighed between clenched teeth as she felt his twisting tongue cruise between the richness of her trembling pussy lips. "It feels so wonderful, so good ... "
Percival's mouth pressed against the cream-drenched slickness and he sucked. Then he pressed the tip of his tongue tight against her clitoris and scrubbed back and forth until her downy-haired pussy was heaving up at his face and her soft ass -was grinding without stop. His hands held steadily to the mellow texture of her working thighs and he helped lift her glorying cunt up to his mouth like a golden chalice. He thirstily drank the sacramental wine of her girlhood.
Jill's head was whirling, colored lights were exploding behind her closed eyes. The after-effects of the wine were just starting to ease away; her body felt so alive, so famished, so filled with pumping fires of passion.
The soft squeeze of her thighs against his ears made Percival shiver deep inside. He could drink her vaginal juices all day and still thirst for them. And her juicy little ass-cheeks kept rising up to press against his chin and squirm, the meaty flesh kept wiping away the wetness.
His pecker was so stiff he couldn't believe it. It was like a hard log of oak, a powerful mast of steel. He was dying to push it inside her jerking body and pummel the slick walls of her tight pussy until they screamed with release.
Jill cried, a soft whine of helpless joy, as his wet tongue started to glide down from her soaked pussy lips and spear between the full cheeks of her straining backside. She felt it tickle and touch as it made the short journey to her other hole, her tightest, most sensitive hole.
Percival traced the ring of her anus gently before giving the taut muscle a slight press. She gasped a deep breath and tried to relax her ecstatic body. The tense anus went loose; Percival's hot tongue pried away at the edges until it was slipping very slowly inside her. It felt as if she was being filled with something soft but insistent, a never-ending. probe of mushiness that would stay in her ass until she exploded with thrills.
"Ohhhhhh ... it feels so strange ... " she moaned.
Percival shoved his tongue deep until the ring of her ass was tight against his tongue and his face was burrowed inside the heaving cheeks of her velvet ass. She kept twisting her butt up to his mouth, grinding, begging for more.
"Yessss ... daddy, lick me out, tongue me away ..."
Sylvia finished showering and slowly toweled the numbness in her body away. She felt more fatigued than she ever had. Her head pounded with a splitting headache. But at least her hair and body were clean. She had scrubbed hard to wash away the disgusting mess and odor of Butt Collins.
She sat on the edge of the bed and slowly dressed in her torn clothing. Tears welled in her eyes, then started spilling down her freshly washed cheeks. The worst thing of all was that Burt would someday return, she thought. Nothing was solved, the nightmare of blackmail and revenge would continue.
She then remembered her daughter, the innocent young girl she was about to give away to save herself. Disgust, remorse filled her throat and she began to sob. All was lost. Percival knew everything. Burt was going to try and return some horrid day. Sylvia sighed. She knew what her only choice was. She had to ran. Leave Percival before he threw her out. Start a new life of dignity and self-respect somewhere else. And, she sobbed, if possible, take Jill with her.
Sylvia's legs and back pained her as she got to her feet and went to the door of the hotel room. She felt so alone and without hope that she didn't even care about the disheveled appearance of her clothing and the wet strands of her hair. In a state of dull shock she went down the elevator to the garage where her car waited. When she got inside she crumpled forward onto the wheel and started crying again.
"Uuuugggghhhh!" Jill groaned as a climax buckled her anus into starving grips against Percival's whipping tongue. He was reaming her tender tissues into bliss as she hoisted and ground her hot ass against his red face.
His nose was nestled into her cunt and caught the full outpouring of her happy wetness. She was covered with perspiration, her full-breasted young body gleaming under the soft light of the lamp. Percival peered up the languid expanse of her vibrating flesh through her sparse pubic hair.
Her heaving climax slowed down and Percival trailed his tongue through the blonde patch of silken hair up to her still trembling navel. She tasted delicious everywhere, even the thick perspiration was champagne to his mouth. His mouth collapsed on each nipple to draw it deep and massage it with his eager tongue. She was swimming under him, lifting against his body, heaving limberness urging him higher and higher on her torso.
"Please put it in me," she begged. "It feels so wonderful when you do it ... please ... "
He closed away her cries with his mouth and their tongues made a splash of liquid heat together. She caressed his bare ass with one hand and held the other at the back of his neck.
"Inside me ... please ... " she sighed when their mouths came apart.
Percival's turgid cock was nestled patiently between her legs. It pounded with a fierce intensity he hadn't experienced in years. His mind was clear, his hands steady, his whole body like that of a young stallion with only one objective. Pleasing the hungry young filly below him. He touched the flared head of his hot prick against her cunt lips.
"Nooooo," she moaned. "Lower ... "
He was surprised, but pleasantly. She was eager to experience new things and he wasn't about to deny her that. His cock head slid from the clinging vaginal tissues and moved down to her saliva-wet anus. She twisted her asshole against his hardness, a tremendous shudder of joy traveling through her.
Percival pressed with firmness and felt her squirm her eager ass against the thick post. She refused to fail, her asshole collapsed inward against the pressure but she still shoved. He looked down at her beaming blue eyes and happy face. She was experiencing no pain, his training worked beyond all expectations. Jill had lost her hymen and was now taking it in her ass without any pain at all. She was dynamic and hot, the only hurt she felt was the hurt of impatience.
"Uh ... uh! Uh!" she gasped as the ring of her ass separated open and circled the broad pecker head. It was so big, so hard, so filling and wonderful. She heaved her back-stretched ass at him with youthful exuberance. "Yes! It's going in! Deep! Deep!"
Percival threw his weight down on a full bodied thrust and felt the unbelievable hug of her crammed anus. She rotated against his spike and gobbled it completely into her hungry asshole.
"Oh, daddy, I love you so much!" she cried.
The old man's legs shuddered as his long prick surged hot cream through its imbedded length. The cream pumped from him with lurches of his body, and he gasped and buried his wet face in the freshness of her long blonde hair.
Sylvia entered the house quietly with the hopes of not waking Percival. She planned on going straight to Jill's room, waking her, and telling her they were going away. After some quick packing they would be out of Percival's life forever. She tiptoed up the stairs and saw the light under Jill's door.
Good, she's still awake, Sylvia said to herself as she pushed open the door. What she saw made her want to faint or scream, but she stayed conscious and couldn't find her voice. They were on the bed, kissing ... nude. Her fresh-bodied little girl in the arms of her husband. When Sylvia found her voice all she could do was whisper, "Oh, my God."
She expected her husband to jump away from Jill and try some stammering explanation. But he didn't. Percival rolled to his back, his relaxed cock lying across his thigh, and smiled. "I've been expecting you," he said in a calm voice.
Sylvia gulped. Was this his cruel way of punishing her? Was the price she had to pay for cheating on him this high? Jill, her beautiful daughter?
"Hello, mother," Jill said. Sylvia saw no shame, no fear, no embarrassment in the clear blue eyes of the young girl. She seemed to feel everything was normal, natural. That sleeping with her stepfather was all right.
"Jill, Jill ... " Sylvia whispered painfully. "We have to leave here ... we're no longer welcome here ... "
Jill's eyes became confused. She looked at Percival, then her mother. "Why?" she asked. "I like it here. I don't want to go away from daddy!"
Sylvia started crying, she couldn't look at them, her stomach was buckling with emotion. "Jill! He's punishing us! I've been wrong and he doesn't want me as his wife anymore! We have to go away!"
"But I don't want to leave daddy!" Jill cried. Then turning to Percival she asked, "Do I have to go? Does mother have to leave this house?"
Percival's answer made Sylvia sit back in shock. "I don't want to lose you, Jill. I don't want to lose your mother, either. But I do want her to be faithful or, at least, more selective and discreet about her affairs. But if she insists on leaving me you will be forced to make a choice. You must go with her or stay here with me."
"You don't want to divorce me?" Sylvia asked numbly.
"No," he answered with a smile. "I'm an old man with very few years left. If I can enjoy them as I like with Jill and you, I will happy. For my happiness I'll leave everything to my loving family."
"You want us both? Me and my daughter?"
"He has me," Jill interjected. "I want to stay with daddy. I can't leave him all alone."
Sylvia saw her daughter was no longer a young child, someone she could order to do her will. And she also knew the position Percival had her in. She could legally lose Jill to him. All he was asking was for her to continue as his wife and behave.
"I've taken care of Burt Collins, Sylvia," Percival said. "He will never bother you again. I don't want you to make your decision out of fear. If you decide to stay with us it must be of your own free will. Your loving will."
Sylvia sobbed, the pressures of the last weeks broke from her tired eyes. Jill's arms stretched open to her mother, Percival came from the bed and helped Sylvia to her feet.
"We can make you feel better, mother," Jill softly said as Percival removed Sylvia's clothing. "Come to bed with us and we'll kiss away all the pain."
Sylvia joined her husband and daughter on the bed and felt Jill's soothing mouth on her flesh. Percival nodded and smiled with contentment. He kissed her and said, "Now, perhaps we can be a loving family."
"Yes, dear," Sylvia sobbed as she buried her face in his embracing shoulders.
