The overwhelming problems some people face during the course of their lives can frequently lead them to commit acts they would never consider under normal circumstances. There is the employee who, laid off from his job, stoops to theft in order to feed his family; the witness who perjures himself in order to save a friend; the football player who, under immense pressure to perform extremely difficult plays, takes drugs to improve his performance.
Karen White is one of these people, for her problem-a husband who fails to satisfy her sexually-leads her to accept shame and degradation at the hands of men who only wish to use and abuse her.
Her story is that of a woman shattered by life's realities, namely, an unsatisfactory marriage.
The Minister's Wife is a novel about a society which too often ignores a person's cry for help.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
The Reverend Thomas White, a lean, handsome, silver-haired man of forty-eight, looked out over his congregation as he wound to the end of his sermon. Most of the faces were familiar. They had been his parishioners for ten or fifteen years, ever since he'd come to do the Lord's work in the small Midwestern city of Oakville. But two faces in particular stood out, those of his wife and daughter. Meg, at fifteen, was red-haired and freckle-faced, as sweet and innocent-looking as ever but Tom knew she was not innocent, not any longer. Her angelic features masked a rebellious nature, a maturing sensuality he could no longer deny. The whole town knew that the Reverend White, a man of God, was having "problems" with his teenage daughter.
And Karen, his wife how beautiful she looked this morning, her classically lovely features, her creamy complexion, her dazzling blue eyes and light blonde hair bathed in the soft light of the stained-glass windows. Tom almost winced to look at her, knowing that her serene expression was the product of several "downers" taken to soothe her hangover. The town didn't know about Karen's problems yet, but they soon would. Nothing stayed secret for long in Oakville.
Most secret of all were the Reverend's own problems. He'd long ago learned to mask his private thoughts behind a bland expression, but inside he seethed. He seethed with rage at his daughter's loss of innocence; with sorrow that his wife had turned away from him to alcohol, drugs, and new lovers; and with a confused yearning, because he himself suffered from a nagging desire to "break out", to experience real, raw life before he was too old. It was out of the question, of course, for a minister to behave that way, yet he yearned. And all the while he stood before his trusting flock, droning on about Christian purity and virtue.
It made him want to puke. My God, he thought, what was wrong with him? What was wrong with THEM? What had happened to his warm little typically American family?
His troubled thoughts threatened to interfere with his concentration, and Tom forced himself to think of nothing but the words he uttered. At last the sermon ended, the organ struck up the closing hymn, and he went to bid goodbye to his parishioners at the door of the church. He did it mechanically, with an automatic kindly smile, all the while watching his wife and daughter as they moved down the aisle toward him. He couldn't take his eyes off Karen's tits, typical of his distracted state. She had big firm tits, remarkably firm for a woman of forty, and they swayed gently, enticingly under her modest white cotton blouse. He imagined her naked, lounging languidly beside him in bed, while he stroked her velvety-soft tits ... But, no, that wasn't likely to happen any more. She'd told him plainly that he didn't turn her on any more.
She passed him with a vacant stare, not even noticing him, and Meg followed her with equal indifference. He knew Karen was aching to get home to her pills, perhaps to a stiff drink even though it wasn't even noon. Meg, too, wanted to be gone from the stuffy, inhibiting atmosphere of the church. Perhaps she had a rendezvous with some boy. She was grounded, of course, forbidden to date, but that wouldn't stop her. Tom looked after them briefly, poignantly, and at last fled to the privacy of his office. Really, there was nothing he could do. His women had chosen to go their own ways, and he seemed helpless to stop them.
He took off his heavy black robe and hung it away in the closet with a sigh of relief. It seemed too heavy lately, a reminder of his hypocrisy and secret lusts. He loosened his tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and felt more like himself. He was tempted to have a cigarette, but he never smoked in public, and if someone should walk in....
There was a knock at the door. Tom cursed softly and stuffed the pack of Marlboros back into his shirt pocket. "Come in," he said, sitting down behind his desk. "Thank God you're here," said Helen Davidson.
She swept into the little office wafting perfume and hair spray and the mingled sweet scents of her numerous cosmetics. At twenty-nine she didn't need all that goop on her face, but apparently she thought it was required of the wife of the biggest car dealer in town. Helen was "new" in Oakville, by local standards, having come from Chicago only five years ago upon her marriage to Bill Davidson. She still stuck out like a bird of paradise among a flock of chickens. Tom couldn't help admiring her graceful long-legged walk, her slim but feminine figure, the subtly sexy way she carried herself. She had been a fashion model, and it showed. She plunked herself down in a chair, sighed deeply, and took out a pack of cigarettes. Tom wanted one so badly, he almost reached out and grabbed the pack from her. Instead he folded his hands and gave her his professional smile.
"Well, Helen," he said, "what can I do for you?"
She gawked at him, then broke into shrill laughter. It was only partly amusement, he could tell. The woman was on the verge of hysteria. "Oh, my God," she cried, "what can you do for me? That's a great question, Tom. You don't know how funny that is!"
Tom moved around the desk to her, handkerchief at the ready, waiting for a barrage of tears. Women were always coming to his office to cry, as if only here could they express the full frustration of their lives. As he bent solicitously over her, however, Helen surprised him. She looked up, not with tears, but with a glowing hunger in her eyes and before he knew what was happening, her arms were around his neck.
"I'll tell you what you can do for me," she said in a soft, husky voice. "You can give me a decent fuck."
Tom went rigid with shock. He'd heard a lot of things in this office, but he wasn't prepared for this. He stood there, his mouth hanging open, and Helen rose to press her trembling body against his. She was tall in her city shoes, almost as tall as him, and their bodies meshed perfectly, her small firm tits rubbing aggressively against his chest, her soft cuntal mound sliding suggestively against his crotch. She clung to him tightly, urgently, her mouth wet and warm as she began to kiss his face.
"Oh, Jesus, Tom," she whispered, "you don't know what it's like, being married to that damned jock. That's all he's ever been, a jock. He never forgot he was a football hero in high school, and he still plays the role. No gentleness, no humor, no weakness. He's a god damned ape, that's all. His idea of making love is to jump on me, grunt a few times, and come. Then he starts snoring. It's driving me crazy, Tom. I'm a normal woman, I need orgasms. There's nothing wrong with that but he won't even listen to me when I try to tell him. I can't stand living like this. I just can't stand it. I need a MAN, not a gorilla...."
She babbled on, while Tom wondered what he was going to do. Ordinarily he would have gone into his spiel about marriage counseling, but somehow he couldn't get the words out. It was all so phony anyhow. Helen didn't love Bill, so what difference Would it make if, after a year or so of professional help, the poor dumb bastard actually learned to keep it up for a few more seconds? It all seemed fruitless, not worth mentioning. And there was something else that kept him from speaking, moving Helen's deliriously firm little body rubbing insistently against his, her obvious horniness for him. He hadn't experienced that for a long time, not since the early days of his marriage. He hadn't realized, till this moment, how desperately he needed a responsive woman ... It would be easy. Helen was a smart, discreet young woman, and she wanted it as badly as he did. They could arrange to meet out of town....
He censored those thoughts. He was a minister, it would be the death of his career if he ever once committed adultery. But, my God, he was also human! He couldn't help it if Helen's urgent need communicated itself to him, if her writhing hot body struck up an answering chord in him. He felt himself growing too warm, his body shaking a little, the tingling in his balls as her soft little cunt ground against his cock.
"Helen," he said. His voice came out in a stupid croak, and he tried again. "Helen, believe me, I understand. A lot of women have insensitive husbands. But what you're doing now that's not the answer. I'm your minister, Helen, and that's all I can ever be to you"
"Oh, Christ, what bullshit," Helen interrupted. "I know you're not getting anything from that frigid bitch. You're a man, Tom, and I'm here and ready. Treat yourself. We both need it, both want it so why not?"
Tom reddened. Was the failure of his marriage so obvious? Karen could hardly be called frigid, but perhaps her revulsion for him was too easily seen. "Please, Helen," he said, "you know this isn't right."
She laughed. "Who cares what's right or wrong? What does it matter? We're all going to die, anyhow, so why not have some fun while we can?"
He shuddered. She had voiced his very own secret thoughts, the inadmissible things he'd been thinking ever since his troubles began. Why not, indeed? Why go to the grave unfulfilled, aching with dissatisfaction, regretting an empty life? Did God really demand that of him? The temptation was powerful to fuck Helen, to succumb to his deepest yearnings at last.
She seemed to sense his indecision, and suddenly she planted her mouth on his and began kissing him in an unashamed display of lust. He didn't move away. Her hot wet little tongue snaked into his mouth, tickling and playing and aggressive, and Tom felt a hot burst of lust that almost made him moan. He found himself slipping his arms around her, squeezing her lithe little body against him, and Helen responded with even more vigorous action of her sly tongue. She ground her eager cunt hard against his cock, a frankly lusty motion, and Tom tightened his hold on her.
His blood seemed to boil now, he couldn't hold back. He slid his tongue into her mouth and found it deliriously silky and hot. Their tongues twined together in a lewd snake-like motion. He felt hot tingling in his balls, the first tentative twitching and stiffening of his cock. He hadn't been so urgently horny in a long, long time. Indeed, after twenty years of marriage, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be lusty.
"Oh, God." Helen's voice was raw and yearning as she broke the kiss and gasped for breath. "Oh, Tom, yes, yes ... Where can we go? I have to have you!"
It was decision time. He'd already stepped out of line by kissing her, but it still wasn't too late. His reputation, his life's work, his self-respect were all at stake. He thought he could trust Helen, but one could never be sure about these things. Could he really risk it? Did he want to be one of those ministers that people snickered about, made dirty jokes about a clergyman who fucked his own women parishioners? He'd always had deep contempt for those men. Now he began to understand how they felt. The burden of perfection was too heavy, the yearning for life too strong ...
Helen backed away from him a little, her brown eyes glowing hotly, her full mouth trembling. Her heavy chestnut hair was slightly tousled, and at the low-cut neck of her blouse he could see the pretty twin mounds of her small, firm tits where they began to rise. She looked delicious to him.
"Do it, Tom," she whispered. "Live."
He shuddered, but not with distaste. It was as if a great jolt of energy passed through him, a kind of rebirth. He shook off his old life like a snake's skin and felt immediate relief. Confidently he stepped forward and lifted Helen into his arms. She was light, warm, trembling. She seemed surprised for a moment, and then she broke into a lusty grin and threw her arms around his neck.
"Where are you taking me?" she laughed.
"You'll see," said Tom, grinning at her.
Just off the office, he had a small room with a cot where he sometimes slept when he had to work late. He kicked the door open and carried Helen inside and laid her gently down on the narrow bed. He locked the door behind them. There were no windows, complete privacy. There was also no turning back now. It was just a little too late to talk about marriage counseling or to protest that, as a man of God, he couldn't do such things. He'd crossed the bridge and he felt nothing but elation and excitement. He stood there looking down at Helen and began unknotting his tie.
Helen watched him for a moment, as if to be sure that this was really happening, and then her eyes glowed hotter than ever. She began to unbutton her blouse. As Tom watched her, he thought how unreal it all was. When he'd started in the ministry, he'd vowed to be absolutely pure, faithful to his trust. When he married Karen, he'd never even dreamed that he might be tempted by another woman. When he was young and idealistic, it had all seemed so clear and easy. But now it seemed just as clear, just as easy, to want Helen. He was a different man now, he'd seen too much. For the first time in twenty years he watched another woman, not his wife, taking off her clothes and it all seemed right and good.
Helen's body was even lovelier without her high-fashion garments. She was taut, trim, firm, yet sweetly and delicately feminine. Her legs were long and slender, her waist tiny, but her hips blossomed out enticingly, and her small tits rode high and round and firm. She had light-brown nipples, small and pointed, and her cute little tits jiggled slightly as she drew off her lacy black bra. Tom watched with increasing lust as she deftly slipped off her matching black lace panties. Her cunt seemed tiny and delicate to him, a mere puff of soft dark fur. He was so absorbed in watching her that he forgot to go on undressing himself, and Helen looked up and laughed.
"This isn't a strip show," she said. "Get with it, man. I NEED you!"
Tom laughed, too easily and doffed the rest of his clothes in a hurry. He was very glad now that he'd taken care to keep his body in shape over the years, watching his diet, turning out for amateur sports. He knew he looked damned good for a man who was nearly fifty. Just over six feet tall, taut and muscular and tan, he looked like a man should look and Helen's glowing eyes showed it.
"My God," she said frankly, "you're beautiful. You're not flabby anywhere. Christ, you turn me on!"
Tom positively glowed with her admiration. He saw the way her eyes darted hungrily from his strong shoulders to the silver mat of hair on his chest, over his taut belly and heavily muscled legs, finally to focus on his now-stiffened cock. He was okay in that department, too, although he'd long forgotten the fact. Karen made him feel like he had nothing at all, ever since she confessed that his lovemaking turned her off. Now he remembered bull sessions in the showers at college, somebody wistfully eyeing his prick and saying, "Man, you shouldn't waste THAT on the ministry." Well, he wasn't going to waste it now.
He moved toward Helen, and his cock seemed to be getting even harder. He felt it snap up to hug his belly, felt his warm drooling juices. His balls were swollen up so big that he moved awkwardly. He knew he was long overdue for a decent fuck, though he hadn't been able to admit it to himself till this moment. He was a minister, he should be above such things ... He chuckled cynically to himself. No one, he didn't care who, was "above" sex....
Helen had begun to tremble with excitement as he approached. She scooted over on the little cot to make room for him, and as he stretched out beside her, she trembled even harder and giggled self-consciously.
"My God," she said, "I'm acting like a teeny-bopper. You'd think this was my first time. In a way, it is. I mean, it's been a long, long time since I got decently laid." Tom said teasingly, "How do you know I'll be any good?"
She laughed and reached out to pet his rigidly hard, long cock. "Are you kidding?" she said. "If I can't get off on this, I might as well quit!"
She went on petting his swollen, hot cock, sending delicious little sensations through his pelvis. Karen had paid him no such attention in a long time. He reached down to slip his hand between Helen's soft slim thighs, felt the feathery delicacy of her cuntal bush, and then, to his great surprise, the incredible wetness of her cunt lips. The woman was soaked, flooded. As he slid his hand between her legs, his fingers were instantly bathed in a dense scalding rush of cunt juice. He glanced up at her in surprise, and Helen blushed slightly.
"I know," she said. "I wanted you terribly, from the minute I stepped into your office. Oh, long before that. There are plenty of men in this town I could have had, but they're all apes, just like my husband. I knew you were different. I wanted you. Jesus Christ, I used to sit in church week after week, watching you, imagining how it would be with you, creaming myself. I have to confess, I don't remember a word of your sermons."
Tom laughed. "I don't remember them, either." He worked his fingers gently in her soaked, steamy cuntal slit till he located the tiny, hot, throbbing bud of her clitoris. He began to caress it rhythmically, and Helen groaned hoarsely and opened her legs to him.
"That feels so good," she sighed. "He never does that...."
He went on massaging her fiercely hot little clit, and successive floods of cunt juice soaked his hand. He felt deep pity for Helen, because he knew exactly how she felt, how it was to literally ache for years, to lack the most basic fulfillment of marriage. His cock felt ready to burst with pent-up need, the equivalent of her helpless creaming. As he played gently but insistently with her tender clit, she began to whimper and move her hips in lewd fucking motions, beyond shame or pride. He did not despise her for it. He understood only too well.
Her hand went still on his rigid cock, then slipped away. "Oh, God, Tom," she moaned. "I'm awful, but I can't wait any longer. Make love to me! Put it in me NOW!"
She looked urgently at him, her dark eyes wide with need, and blushing a little, she opened her long legs very wide for him. He needed no more invitation. He was as ready as she was. Shaking with excitement, he knelt between her out-stretched legs, seized his hard, throbbing cock, and placed the drooling purple head at the soaked, hair-fringed mouth of her cunt. For the first time in twenty years he was about to fuck someone besides Karen. It seemed very strange, and for a second he experienced a violent twinge of conscience. It was against all his principles to be unfaithful to his wife, to betray his ministry like this. But the attack of guilt was gone instantly as his raw cock head felt the scalding invitation of Helen's wet, nipping cunt lips. He only knew that he needed her, that he cared about nothing else.
He began to push into her cunt. Helen gasped and began to tremble. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her lovely face twisted into a grimace of lust as she concentrated her whole being on the joy of his slow, thick entrance. As he slid deeper and deeper into her cunt, she began to whine steadily, a horny, shrill little noise, and her cunt cream boiled thickly around his cock.
Tom shuddered with excitement as he felt himself enveloped in the scalding, slick tunnel of her cunt. She was nice and tight obviously Bill hadn't made too much use of her cunt and her pussy muscles were young and strong, fastening possessively around his invading cock, tugging and pulling to get him in even farther. The heat of her inner cunt was incredible, almost burning.
Tom moaned and let himself down on her, his wiry chest hairs meeting her silky little tits, and as he did so, his prick slid all the way home, nosing securely against the slick hot pulp of her womb. A burst of burning cunt juice greeted his arrival, and Helen gasped and suddenly wrapped her legs around his back, driving him firmly into place. Her hands fumbled for his shoulders, and then he felt the sharpness of her nails as she lustily clawed him.
He liked that, he liked her unfeigned passion and obvious delight. It had been so long since his wife had responded that way....
"Ohhhh, YES!" shrieked Helen. "My God, yessss ... it feels so good! Fuck me, Tom ... ball me ... don't hold back! Hard, darling, HARD!"
It could hardly have been any other way, he wanted her so badly. He was grateful that she didn't ask for finesse, gentleness, or time, because all he could do was fuck her like a wild animal. His hips seemed out of control as he began to fuck her, jabbing with blinding speed and brute force. His balls slapped heavily against her small tight ass, and their bellies met with a loud smacking noise. He heard a lewd slurping and squishing sound, his thick cock reaming the juice from her narrow cunt, and with every lunge he butted her cunt walls cruelly.
He thought for a moment that he must be hurting her, but Helen clung to him all the harder, keeping him well inside her, shrieking her intense pleasure. Her slim hips moved in perfect time to his, unashamed horny thrusts that met his hard-driving cock and took it in to the hilt. She wanted this hard brutal fuck as desperately as he did.
He abandoned all restraint and joyfully fucked her as hard and fast as he could. He even resorted to an adolescent pleasure, raising himself slightly off her body so he could watch his glistening cock zipping in and out of her small, hair-fringed cunt. It delighted him to watch his thick meat reaming and stretching her little hole, to hear her moans and screams of pleasure. For the first time in years, he felt like a whole man.
He was enjoying himself tremendously, but he was not beyond guile. He knew that Bill Davidson had failed her by not lasting long enough, and so he forced himself to hold back his climax, fucking her raw, giving her more than enough. It pleased him wickedly to succeed where Bill had failed. He'd never liked Bill much, anyhow a flashy, plump, arrogant man who barely contained his amusement and contempt for a "sissy" occupation like the ministry. It delighted Tom to be fucking Bill's wife and doing it much better than Bill ever could. He just wished Bill would walk in on them....
His thoughts were interrupted as Helen suddenly arched and stiffened her body. She thrust herself up at him so hard that her cunt hairs rubbed abrasively against his flesh. She went absolutely silent, breathless, for a moment, and he felt her young cunt muscles contracting almost painfully tight around his jerking cock. Then there was a scalding flood of cream, and she began to whine and groan as the harsh convulsions of climax gripped her body. Her nails dug hard into his shoulders, her legs wrapped tighter around his back and almost squeezed the breath from him. She was coming with female intensity, a body-shaking climax which few men could ever experience.
"AAAHHHH!" she shouted. "AAAHHH, GOD!"
Once started, she was hard to stop. She seemed to have one climax after another, with hardly a breathing space between them. Tom dutifully fucked away, keeping her going, a little envious of her female capability but nonetheless glad for her. At last, weeping with pleasure, she fell back limp and spent, managing to gasp, "Come in me, Tom! Quickly!"
He slid his hands under her sweaty little ass and ground his cock deep into her blazing cunt. It took only a few harsh thrusts, and then he was coming, jetting out an incredible load of jism, as if he'd stored it up for years. His body spasmed deliciously, and he didn't restrain his groans and yelps. It felt too damned good, it had been so long....
He wanted to drowse on her soft body for a while, but there was always the danger of interruption. Most reluctantly he crawled off her, his cock limp and dripping as it slipped from her nipping little cunt. Helen looked up at him and grinned. "Fuck and run. You men are all alike."
His passion spent, he felt a little more cautious. "It's dangerous to linger, Helen," he said. "This isn't a very private place. I wish we could stay together longer, but."
She silenced him by putting a finger to her lips. "Listen, you don't have to tell me any of that. I'm not dumb, and I won't cling. I know you risked your career for this, and I'm grateful. You saved my life, Tom. You helped me remember how sex should be. I'm going to divorce that bastard, and I'm going back to Chicago and have myself a ball. Don't worry, I'll never tell anyone about this. All I have to say is, thank you."
He should have counseled her against divorce. He should have lectured her about the evil of what they'd just done. Instead he hugged her fiercely and said, "Helen good luck."
She endured his hug for a moment, then laughed and pushed him away and began gathering up her scattered clothing. "Quit making me sentimental," she said. "You can't afford to be sentimental in this crummy rat race of a world. I'm going to walk out of here now, Tom, and I won't be back but I just want to say one thing. Live. Have fun. You're a beautiful man, and I hate to see you waste it."
She did just as she said dressed and walked out without a word or a backward glance. Tom thought how much he admired her guts, her vibrant will to live. Could he be that courageous? He dressed, locked up the office, and drove home, waiting for the pangs of guilt to hit him. He'd done the lowest thing a minister could do. He'd cheated on his wife. Why didn't he feel bad? Why was he humming to himself and grinning like a maniac?
He parked in the driveway of his neat white home and made an attempt to compose his face in its customary blandness. Then he got out and walked slowly to the front door. He noticed that the drapes were pulled in the living room, but he really didn't think much about it maybe someone was watching TV. He didn't realize anything was amiss until he'd stepped quietly into the living room and was taking off his coat. Then he felt his body going rigid with shock as he slowly perceived what was happening.
In the living room, in the dark musty closeness, two bodies writhed on the sofa, and there was faint, husky murmuring and moaning. Tom saw the top figure, a quick impression of jeans and t-shirt, but his eyes darted quickly to the bottom figure to the flushed, sweet face of his daughter Meg as she moaned in passion.
CHAPTER TWO
As she left church that morning, Karen White glanced briefly at her husband and thought, poor bastard. Tom stood there at the door of the church, greeting people in his black robe, looking his usual bland and naive self, and it seemed to Karen that he would never change, never understand that the world was filled with dark, powerful, and evil forces which he could not tame with his dull little sermons and commonplace advice. She thought he would never learn, too, that life offered wild and sensual thrills which could never be found in a stupid little town like Oakville. For a moment she felt very sorry for Tom but then she passed by him without a glance, thinking only of what waited for her at home.
She needed a drink badly, and she needed a pill to steady her shaking limbs. Most of all she needed Brent, and he had promised to come this morning while Tom was still in church. Her body warmed and throbbed at the thought of Brent. He could excite her in a way that Tom never had. Of course she would have to do something about her daughter, Meg, get her out of the house somehow. In a gossipy little town like Oakville, not even your own flesh and blood could be trusted with the knowledge that you had a lover.
Karen had been very young, only nineteen, when she married Thomas White, who was then twenty-eight and just starting his career as a minister. Karen never went to college, didn't know anything about the world, and found it thrilling to be married to an "older" man who was doing such fine work. For a few years they'd traveled around to exotic places Africa, South America, the Far East while Tom did his stint as a missionary, and Karen had enjoyed those times very much. Then, when she became pregnant with Meg, they'd decided to settle down, and Tom had gotten the position in Oakville. Perhaps that had been the change that ruined them, or perhaps it was the arrival of the baby Karen didn't know. She knew only that fifteen years in Oakville had rotted away her soul, bored and repressed her almost to death, until finally she had to break out. For Meg's sake, she would not leave Tom, but there were other ways of breaking out. First there was alcohol, then the uppers and downers, and finally there were the men.
Karen was ashamed at first to admit that she needed sex so badly. Shouldn't a decent woman be content with one man, her husband? But when the need became too great, she rationalized by telling herself that people are polygamous and easily bored. They need variety, thrills, higher and higher levels of excitement. Tom was a very adequate fuck, she couldn't deny that. It was just that he bored her, he never did anything new, and she found herself dying to find out what other men were like in bed. With liquor and drugs to give her courage, she finally did. She'd felt terribly guilty about it at first, of course, but she got rid of the guilt by drinking more and taking heavier doses of drugs. Now she lived only for the various sensual thrills she'd discovered over the past few years.
They were the only things that made life in Oakville bearable.
She drove Meg home to their neat white house on the tree-lined street. They didn't talk much, each deep in her own thoughts. Karen knew that Meg, too, was breaking out from the rigid bonds of conformity imposed by their small town, but she didn't much concern herself with it. Far better that Meg suffer a few hard knocks rejection by lovers, a little delinquency than to suffocate in boredom as her mother had done. Tom was terribly concerned about Meg's behavior, of course, but then he was a minister and had to protect his image. Karen simply couldn't be bothered to patrol or discipline her daughter. She had enough problems of her own.
"Are you going somewhere today?" she asked as she and Meg entered the house.
Meg sighed exaggeratedly, hoping to elicit sympathy. "I'd like to," she said, "but Daddy grounded me. He says I'm not to go out for a week. And Chris asked me for a date this afternoon!"
"Go ahead," Karen said. "Daddy won't be home for hours. I'll say you're with girlfriends."
Meg grinned at her. She didn't know why her mother was so lenient, and she certainly wasn't going to push it. "Thanks, Mom," she said, hurrying toward her room. "I'm going to go get ready."
"Have fun," said Karen, moving slowly up the stairs toward her own room. She wished she'd had as much fun as Meg when she was young, but her strict religious parents had kept her locked up and guarded like a nun. Tom was the only man she'd ever been allowed to date, and only then because he was a minister. Consequently Tom was the man she'd married and the only man she'd ever fucked up to this year, at least. This year she'd had her fortieth birthday, and it made her realize that the booze and the pills weren't enough to get her through the endless dullness and conformity of small-town life. She needed more. She needed a man.
Brent was pure accident. It amused Karen that they'd met at a Sunday school picnic. Karen had been standing with the other wives and matrons, doling out food, when Brent, a stunningly handsome seventeen-year-old, had asked if he might bring a plate of food to a friend with a broken leg. Just to get away from the housewifely chatter, Karen had offered to come along with him. They met the friend, a bored boy in a full cast, and then they'd begun to talk. Karen was a good talker and easily held Brent's interest, despite the great difference in their ages. By the end of that short talk, it was clear that Brent was powerfully attracted to her, and she couldn't deny that she was attracted to him. Tall, deeply tanned, muscular, with blue-black hair and vivid blue eyes, the boy was a delight to look at and, she had no doubt, would be a joy to touch. She was forty, she had little time left. Why not? Karen asked Brent if he'd like to do a little yard work for her, and she named a time when neither Tom nor Meg would be home. Brent understood. They became lovers the next week.
Now Karen entered the shower thinking of Brent, her cunt already heating and swelling with the memory of his uninhibited boyish lovemaking. She washed herself squeaky clean to please him, and when she stepped from the shower, she checked herself in the full-length mirror of the bedroom. It didn't seem possible that a teenage boy could get excited about a woman of forty, but when Karen studied herself in the mirror, she could understand why. She'd been beautiful as a girl, and she was still beautiful. None of the ravages of middle age the sagging, the wrinkles, the ruined skinhead touched her yet. She looked like a girl in her twenties, tall and voluptuous, superbly curved and firm, her long light-blonde hair falling straight and clean to her waist. Her creamy skin was flawless, her big jutting tits magnificent firm, pointed, capped with pretty pink nipples. Thank God she had been blessed with such a body. She intended to exploit it to the full in the time she had left, and she only regretted the years it had been wasted.
Karen decided not to get dressed. She liked to give Brent naughty surprises, and with Meg out of the house and Tom busy at his office, she need not fear interruption. No doubt the rest of the town would leave her alone, thinking she was recovering from a hangover. It had been impossible for her to conceal two years of progressively heavier drinking. She felt sorry for Tom, who must be disgraced at having such a wife, but there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't live without the drinking. Right now she needed something, and she quickly fixed herself a strong glass of whiskey and water, swallowing it down in one gulp. Then she brushed her teeth, so Brent wouldn't smell the booze; and finally she took a pill, a tranquilizer she'd wangled from her doctor for "nerves". She sprawled on the bed, waiting for the liquor and pill to take effect. It wasn't long. Her body began to glow with warmth, and the pain and tension floated away. She felt happy, sensual, relaxed. And very horny. Idly she stroked the blonde fluff of her cunt, gently rubbing the plump bud of her clit. She felt her cunt beginning to cream and grow hot in anticipation of Brent's visit. It wouldn't be long now.
The back yard was secreted behind a high fence, and Brent always came in that way, climbing the trellis at the back of the house and entering Karen's room through the window. He was quiet and graceful, impossible to detect, and yet she always knew when he was coming. Some slight variation in the normal noises of the house told her. She sensed it now. She rolled over on her back and parted her legs slightly, shamelessly revealing her plump melon-shaped tits and the moist scarlet line of her cuntal slit. That would excite him. A naughty smile played on her full lips.
The window curtains parted, and Brent slipped silently into the room. He met Karen's eyes and smiled. Then his eyes darted helplessly over the rest of her lush, mature body, and she saw, with delight, his boyish wonder and lust. His eyes burned on her big creamy-white tits, wandered down over her taut, pale belly, on to the bright fluffy cunt mound and the delicate red tissues between her wantonly parted legs. Karen noticed the crotch of his jeans beginning to tent sharply, and her smile grew broader.
"Well, don't just stand there gawking, silly," she said softly.
Brent could hardly take his eyes off her, but he did manage to start fumbling out of his clothes. Then it was Karen's turn to stare and admire. His seventeen-year-old body was perfect. He was shaped exactly the way a man ought to be, with broad, strong shoulders and narrow hips and well-defined muscles in his arms and legs. He was tan all over except for the narrow strip covered by his swimming trunks, and his skin was firm and sleek. His eyes fell hungrily on his half-erect cock and his dangling nut sac. He was beautiful, that was all that mattered. He had a crisp field of pubic hair, blue-black like the modishly long hair of his head, but not enough to obscure the thick root of his young cock, not enough to conceal the sleek plumpness of his swelling balls. He kept getting harder and harder as he looked at her, till his young cock lifted with aching heaviness to hug his belly, the tiny hole of his glans oozing a bright droplet of juice. Karen saw the little bubble of cream, and she felt her mouth fill with saliva. "Come here," she said huskily.
Brent walked to the bedside, already trembling with horniness and no doubt ready to fuck her silly he was only a boy, he had no finesse, no time for foreplay. But Karen was teaching him that there was more to sex than mere fucking. When he reached the side of the bed, she put out her hand and stopped him. He stood there, shivering with impatience but respecting her superior knowledge. She grinned at him and crawled over to the edge of the bed, till her glowing face was only inches from his stiff cock. Gently she reached out for it, thrilling to feel the silky, hard, pulsing man meat in her hands. She lowered it gingerly till the creamy, dark-red tip of his cock was touching her hot lips. Her small pink tongue darted out, wet and glistening, to tickle the dark glans hole and lap up the little drop of man juice.
"Oh, Christ!" whimpered Brent.
Her naughty little tongue dug into his sensitive cock hole, reaming and cleaning, then emerged to circle swiftly and wetly all around the bloated head of his cock. He almost came then and there, but he forced himself to hold back. He knew how demanding she was, how scornful she could be if he shot his load too soon. And he wanted to please her. He'd do anything to please her.
Karen was his first woman. God knows he'd tried before, feverish and frustrating sessions in parked cars with girls his own age, but he'd never gotten into anybody. He was handsome and bright, a star of the basketball team, and so had plenty of dates, but the girls in Oakville seemed united in a stubborn and unreasonable conspiracy to remain virgins. He'd fondled countless tits, removed dozens of panties, dry-humped till he came, unhappily, in his jeans, and he'd fingered more than one squealing girl into orgasm but nobody wanted to fuck, and that was what Brent sought most of all. Meeting Karen had been a fantastic piece of luck. He still couldn't believe that this breath takingly beautiful woman wanted him. Just thinking about her made him unbearably horny, and when he was with her, he felt like a trained dog, ready to jump to her bidding. He was hooked, all right, and enjoying every moment of it. It was like all his horny fantasies come true. Karen was a super fuck, incredibly beautiful what else could he want?
Sometimes, of course, he thought about her husband. Poor old Reverend White must be about fifty, which Brent considered over the hill. Probably couldn't even get it up any more, which naturally made his lovely wife restless. Reverend White was a good guy, Brent liked him a lot, but he felt no guilt about fucking the minister's wife. It was just too much fun to feel guilty about. He refused to worry about discovery, about consequences. Those hang-ups belonged to another generation. All he could think about was the fact that he was getting fucked regularly, the dream of every adolescent boy. It was even better than that, for Karen wasn't content with plain old fucking. Every time he came to see her, she invented some kinky variation.
Like today. Her little pink tongue traveled swiftly, wetly, up and down the swollen shaft of his cock, sending violent shivers of pleasure through his body, sometimes darting up to circle the ultra-sensitive head of his prick, digging into his burning glans hole, or snaking down to tickle and lick his bursting balls. It was a fantastic pleasure, and Brent had never expected anyone to do it to him, except perhaps someday a whore. He'd thought only whores did things like that, and it came as a delicious if naughty surprise to have his cock and balls licked by the minister's wife. He forced himself to stand still, not to keel over with dizzy pleasure, and he watched happily as Karen's pretty pink tongue bathed every inch of his rigid, throbbing cock with her warm spit.
"I suppose you'd rather be over at the gym shooting baskets," she remarked dryly. Brent chuckled. "Are you kidding?"
"Oh, no," said Karen with a straight face. "I thought I might be boring you."
"Oh, Jesus," said Brent. "Oh, wow!" Karen grinned wickedly at him, then suddenly dipped her head and sucked in one of his balls. It came as a complete surprise to Brent, who gasped loudly and almost toppled over on her. There was a brief moment of panic at finding one of his family jewels in a woman's mouth, but then the intense pleasure of it blotted out every other thought. His sensitive nut was bathed in wetness, heat, and a gentle but insistent pressure as she began to suck it. He felt the silky lining of her cheek, the mischievous play of her tongue, and he thought again that he was going to shoot his load. But, no, he must hold back. Karen, as he knew by now, could go on like this for hours, then expect him to fuck her, and he had to be ready. He clenched his teeth, digging the naughty, wet sucking of his ball but steeling himself not to come yet.
Karen herself felt she might have come if she'd even sneezed. The wicked things she did to this boy she'd been too modest and shy ever to do them to Tom excited her almost beyond endurance. The first time they were together, they only fucked, and that was enough: he had been a virgin, and she hadn't been fucked in weeks. The second time, she began to explore his body, concentrating on his sleek young cock and nuts, exciting the boy to a frenzy and she found this foreplay to be just as exciting as fucking itself. The third time, she allowed Brent to be explore her with his hand she knew nothing about oral sex giving him plenty of time to learn female anatomy; and by the time they fucked, she had already creamed a huge puddle on the sheets. Today was their fourth time together, and Karen was trying something new.
She'd touched Tom's cock a few times, and once, a little drunk on champagne after a New Year's Eve party, she'd timidly kissed it. But she'd never used her tongue on him, even though she knew this was a common sexual practice. Only after she began drinking heavily and drowning her inhibitions with drugs did she gain the courage to experiment with sex. And Brent was the beneficiary of her new courage. Today for the first time she licked a man's cock, and she found it so exciting that she went even farther, sucking in his balls one after the other, sucking them loudly and juicily, while her aroused cunt creamed hot floods, she could tell how keenly Brent was enjoying her naughty play. The boy shivered, whined, and moaned, barely able to keep from coming, and she felt his steadily flowing salty juices on her taste buds.
She spat his second ball from her mouth, and it flopped rosy and wet into place, swollen almost to bursting with his barely restrained cum. She eyed his cock. It was an average cock in length and thickness, pale white on the shaft and dark red on the head, but to Karen it looked almost god-like in its purity and rigidity. She salivated heavily at the sight of it. She knew already, from touching it, how smooth and silky the flesh was, how hot, how it trembled and throbbed almost imperceptibly beneath the taut skin. Touching wasn't enough now, however. With a hungry moan, she seized the rigid, burning cock and popped it into her mouth.
"Ohhhhh, Jesus!" whined Brent. It was a first for him, too. He'd heard that some girls bad girls sucked cock, but he'd never expected to be so lucky as to have it happen to him. Again he struggled with his conflicting urges, the sheer joy of having his prick sucked, the violent need to come.
Karen discovered almost instantly that cock-sucking was something she loved to do. She liked the slick, thick weight in her mouth, liked the light salty taste of his juices, liked the infantile sucking action. She drew his quivering cock in as far as she could, over half his length, till the dribbling head of his prick butted the back of her throat. She felt she couldn't take in any more without gagging, and she regretted this. She wanted it all. Greedily she began to suck fast, harshly, with a lewd slurping noise. Brent squealed in his excitement and began instinctively pumping his hips, feeding his swollen cock to her in short horny jabs. His lubricating juices bubbled out furiously, and Karen found that she didn't mind tasting and swallowing it. She glanced up at Brent's face twisted, flushed, almost crazed with pleasure and found that his horniness increased her own lust. Only at forty was she learning her power over men but better late than never.
Brent's eyes fluttered open for a look at the action. He could still hardly believe that this beautiful older woman the respected wife of the town's leading minister was eating his cock. He looked down and saw his pale shaft zipping in and out of her wet lips, shining with her saliva, grotesquely thick and ready blue veins standing out rigidly against the white flesh. It was happening, all right. Karen was sucking his prick like it was candy, hungrily and noisily. It felt great but it was almost beyond his endurance to hold back his cum now.
"K-Karen" he stammered. "Hey, you better ease off! I don't think I can keep from coming!"
Karen thought of letting him come in her mouth, yet another new experience for her, but she decided to let it wait for another time. Her pussy was flooded and aching, wild for his penetration, and she felt that her needs came first. Brent had years ahead of him, hundreds of sexual experiences in his future, but she had very little time. Her beauty wouldn't last many more years, so she must get her satisfaction now. Reluctantly she spat out his glistening prick and moved over on the bed to give him room.
Brent scrambled quickly onto the bed, already dizzy with anticipation. He well remembered the first time they'd fucked, the day he lost his virginity. There had been the pride of fucking her, making her wild with pleasure, shooting his jism into a woman for the first time. But what he chiefly remembered was the blazing heat, the delicious wetness, and the snug, nipping muscles of her cunt. He could never get enough of that. Now he grinned eagerly at her and started to roll her over onto her back but Karen pushed him away.
There was one more experiment she wanted to make today. Tom had never fucked her in any way but the missionary position (how appropriate, she thought), both of them being too inhibited to try anything else, even though they were well-read people and knew there were many other ways to fuck. Karen now proposed to do it every way possible before her time was up. When Brent started to roll her onto her back, she felt immediate boredom.
"No, darling," she said impatiently, "not that way. Let's try something else."
The boy looked puzzled. He didn't know there was any other way. He waited for Karen to take command, as she always did in their sessions, and he watched with growing interest and excitement as she crawled onto her hands and knees and raised her sweet round ass cheeks into the air. Hell, yes, it would work that way. Dogs did it that way, so why not people? Karen saw the enlightenment in his eyes, and she just grinned at him and said nothing. Brent scrambled over to kneel behind her.
This was a different view of her cunt, and he was new enough at sex to be fascinated just with looking. He saw the tiny light-brown mouth of her ass-hole, clenched and tight, and then the gasping wet hole of her cunt. Farther down, partially obscured in shadow and the protective ring of blonde fuzz, he saw the gleaming red cunt lips and the tiny bump of her clit. He wouldn't have minded looking a little longer, but Karen was impatient now. She thrust her cunt up at him and writhed homily.
"Hurry, Brent," she panted. "Do it to me!"
Brent fitted the bubbling head of his cock to the dark mouth of her horny little cunt. They both gasped with pleasure, Brent delighting in her burning heat and wetness, Karen joyful to feel the first hard thrust of his thick cock. Brent seized her hips to steady himself and slowly pushed his rigid prick into her. He liked doing it this way, because he could watch as his pale cock slid into her hair-fringed cuntal opening, right up to his balls. It gave him a great feeling of power and virility to watch this, a feeling strengthened when Karen began to wail and whine her pleasure. She seemed to dominate him in everything but this. He was helpless as a puppy, obedient to her every whim, until he finally began to fuck he rand then he was in charge. When his hard cock was fully lodged in the steamy envelope of her cunt, he sighed and began to probe her, gently sawing and thrusting, grinning to himself. He knew her well enough now, knew she hated to do it in this slow and lazy way. He wanted to hear her beg for more speed, more force.
It wasn't long in coming. Karen moaned loudly, more in frustration than pleasure, and said urgently, "Brent, damn you, MOVE! Fuck me, do it HARD, goddammit! Are you asleep?"
Brent chuckled and then suddenly thrust his pelvis forward with all his strength, butting her cunt walls, driving the breath from her. She gasped, and then he was fucking her for all he was worth, the way they both liked it best. When she caught her breath, Karen shrieked with pleasure and creamed hotly all around his hammering dick. This was the moment she liked best, after all, the hot, heavy near-rape. Tom, goddamn him, was always so gentle and considerate, so slow and calm. She hated that. She wanted to be ravished, forced, even hurt. Sometimes in the midst of their fucking she had almost wept with frustration, silently cursing Tom for not being more of a man but she'd never had the courage to ask for it. Now with this boy, Brent, it was different. The pills and alcohol made her bold and shameless, and Brent belonged to a generation that was neither modest nor easily shocked. As his thick, stiff cock pounded into her, she didn't hesitate to tell him exactly how she felt.
"Oh, my God, that's good!" she wailed. "So good, darling! Fuck me hard! Jesus, yessss, YES!"
Brent liked this part best of all. Karen was so much older, smarter, and wiser, that she was almost like his mother, dominating and intimidating him. He was afraid to contradict her, afraid to anger her. Only in the basic act of sex could he become the dominant one, making her absolutely dependent on him. He liked to see her writhing with the pleasure of his sharp, swift fucking, liked to hear her helplessly crying out how much she loved it. Best of all, he liked to see her come. Karen came powerfully, shrieking and convulsing, and it was he who made it happen. She might push him around the rest of the time, but he had the ultimate power.
She was coming now, almost weeping with joy, clawing the bed sheets, her thick cream bubbling out around the pale shaft of his pounding cock. Her body shook so violently that he had to grip her around the waist to keep from being thrown off. "Oh, love," she wailed, "you fuck me so well! Ahhhh, AAAHHH!"
Brent waited till her spasms were nearly done, and then he began to fuck her with renewed ferocity. In the frenzy of his pleasure, he equated her to his mother, to his female teachers, to all older women who told him what to do and treated him like a child. He grinned wickedly as he relentlessly fucked her burning cunt. He'd like to do that to all of them ... His fantasy exploded as he came, and he fell yelping and panting onto Karen's sweaty back as his cum jetted out in delicious hot streams to fill and overflow her quaking cunt.
His passion spent, her needs satisfied, Brent suddenly found himself the underdog again. He would like to have lazed around naked on her bed, playing and goofing off till his cock was hard again, but Karen was urging him up, handing him his clothes. She was still friendly, but her expression was a little distracted.
"You'll have to go now, darling," she said. "I just heard a car in the driveway. It's a little early for my husband to be home, but I don't know who else it could be."
Reluctantly Brent dressed and went out the window. He wouldn't see her again till Wednesday night, when the Reverend White had a regular meeting at the church. When Brent was gone, Karen hastily straightened the bed, put on her nightgown, and crawled under the sheets. Tom would think she was still recovering from her hangover. She wasn't worried. She only felt pity and contempt for her husband, who would never experience the wild pleasure she'd just had. Tom was too good, too noble, too much aware of his "duty", to let himself go that way.
Karen snuggled down against the pillows and reached for the bottle of uppers on the bedside table. She'd have to get up sometime and make like a wife and mother. "Poor Tom," she sighed, "poor bastard."
CHAPTER THREE
Tom stood stock still in the hallway, staring at the sight on the sofa his fifteen-year-old daughter Meg panting and moaning in the writhing embrace of some teenage boy. The Reverend White had, indeed, come home early, but he hadn't expected to be surprised. Almost always he would come home to find his wife lying in bed, either recovering from a hangover or starting one, and his daughter sulking in a chair because she wasn't permitted to go out.
Now he had no idea where Karen was, and he'd never dreamed that Meg would have the nerve to bring a boy into the house, let alone make love to him on the living room sofa. Tom supposed he shouldn't feel too shocked after all, he'd just fucked one of his parishioners but he nevertheless went scarlet with outrage. She was his daughter, after all, his only child.
In his first startled reaction to the scene, he wondered where he'd gone wrong with Meg. She'd seemed a normal baby, a happy little girl, but in her adolescence she'd burst into defiant rebellion, opposing every value her father stood for. By the time she was fourteen, Meg was smoking, drinking, staying out half the night with boys, and falling behind in her school work. Tom had tried reasoning with her, tried to get her to tell him the source of her defiance, but to no avail. The girl wouldn't talk. She only looked at him with a strange expression of pity and contempt. She kept running wild, till finally Tom had to forbid her to go out at all. He couldn't understand any of this, why she wanted to behave this way. How had he and Karen gone wrong as parents?
He stared at the unsuspecting young couple. Meg seemed too young for this kind of thing, far too young. The boy, whoever he was, had pushed up her sweatshirt and was fondling her bare tits to Tom's relief they still had the rest of their clothes on and Meg was sighing and writhing like a mature woman in the heat of passion. Helplessly Tom glanced at his daughter's naked little tits, round and firm and sweet, the size of apples, topped with dark-pink nipples. The tender little globes trembled and wobbled delicately as the eager boy caressed them. Meg's eyes fluttered dizzily, and her innocent-looking freckled face was twisted in a grimace of obvious horniness. She liked what the boy was doing, she clearly wanted more but why? Why wasn't she like other girls her age, carefully preserving her virginity for marriage? In anguish Tom asked himself these questions.
Had he only thought about it, had he been less preoccupied with his own problems, he would have understood. Meg was in rebellion against her parents' hypocrisy, the obvious falsity of their lives. All her young life she'd been told to be pure, honest, God-fearing, clean-living and she came home from school every day to find her mother drunk or drugged, her father holed up in his study, too "busy" to deal with anyone else's problems. She'd been told that marriage was sacred, a blissful solution to everything, and every night she overheard her parents' bitter quarrels. To a girl Meg's age, the situation was clear. It stank; it was a pack of lies. She could not believe what her parents told her, and so she rejected every adult value and believed no one. She lived for the moment, enjoying herself in every way she could. What else was there to life, anyhow? The adult explanation was a crock of shit.
These, more or less, were Meg's thoughts, but she could never tell them to her father, because he'd just give her more crap, urge her to go to church, trust in God, and all that. There was no point in talking. She felt abandoned by her parents, bitterly alone, and so she sought solace in having fun, in the arms of any boy who'd have her. Right now it wasn't Chris' feverish fondling of her tits that excited her so much as his closeness, his warmth, the fact that for a brief moment she had someone she could really relate to. She was willing to let Chris go all the way, as she'd done with several other boys, just to keep him near her that much longer. She was wild for love. But Tom, watching her, didn't see any of this. He only saw that his daughter was a slut. He stood there for a long moment, as in a nightmare, unable to speak or move. He watched the strange boy fumbling with the zipper of Meg's jeans, pulling the garment down to her knees, reaching for her flimsy bikini panties while Meg only smiled and sighed. How many other boys had had her? Tom watched, horror-stricken, as the boy eased down her panties, exposing the bright-red puff of her cunt hair. Timidly, clumsily, the boy touched it, gently petting the soft warm fur.
"Oh, Chris," sighed Meg, "you're getting me so hot...."
Tom wanted to die. Those whorish words from his daughter, who still seemed a mere child to him!
Meg White, daughter of a minister ... Still he seemed paralyzed. He watched, utterly still, while the boy, Chris, buried his face in Meg's fluffy little cunt, and Meg's delicate hands sought his head, caressing, encouraging.
"Yes," she moaned, "yes, kiss me there ... Oh, that's good...."
Tom shivered. Her voice sounded so much like her mother's, like Karen's husky tones of lust when they were first married, when they were still in love. He could well remember how much Karen had enjoyed sex, even the first time, and how surprised he'd been that his virgin bride of nineteen could turn into a wild woman in bed. Had Meg inherited her mother's deep, insistent needs? He watched miserably as Chris began tugging down his jeans. The boy was wearing no shorts, and his thin but rigidly erect cock popped out stiffly to hug his belly. Meg stared at it, not with virginal horror, but with a naughty, lustful smile. "Oooo," she said admiringly, "it's so hard! Can I touch it?"
Chris, no doubt struck dumb with horniness by now, only croaked some unintelligible sound of assent. He knelt beside Meg, watching her intently, as the freckle-faced girl reached out and began to pet his rigid cock. He shivered as she ran her hands swiftly up and down the silky shaft, ran her finger around and around the dark-red gleaming cock-head, teasing him into even greater arousal.
Christ, what a crazy little chick she was, Chris thought. They hadn't even gotten out of the house when he came to pick her up for their date. He'd anticipated a long, laborious seduction, taking her to the beach, buying her dinner, struggling with her in his car for hours before she gave in. Instead, they'd begun necking in her living room, and now, with no effort at all, he was about to get in.
Everything they said about her was true. He hadn't believed it. She was so innocent-looking, she was a preacher's daughter it just couldn't be true. But it was. Meg White had hot pants, all right. She was dying for it. Chris dropped all pretense of courtship or politeness.
"Hey," he said breathlessly, "do like you did with Billy Tate."
Meg blinked at him, hardly able to remember for the moment what she'd done with Billy. There'd been so many boys. "What?" she said. "What do you mean?"
Chris grinned at her. "He said you sucked his dick. Will you do that for me, Meg? Please?"
She didn't have a chance to reply. That exchange was just too much for her father, who had so far been struck dumb. "He said you sucked his dick." Dear God, no did everyone in town know about Meg? Did the boys talk about her, snickering and nudging each other, as if she were some tramp? It was too much. Tom lurched forward into the living room, and the young couple leaped apart.
"Meg!" Tom cried. "Meg, stop!"
Meg stared at him with a mixture of horror and annoyance. "Oh, Daddy," she said, "I didn't hear you come in. You're early." What else could she say?
"That's beside the point, young lady!" Tom shouted. "You get your clothes on and get up to your room! You're staying there, in your room, till you come to your senses! Now, get!"
Meg languidly obeyed. She did not respect her father in the least, cared nothing for his outraged morality, and only obeyed him because she depended on him for food and money. She would continue to sneak out but she'd be more careful next time. Meanwhile, Chris had leaped to his feet and pulled up his jeans, automatic reactions to the intruder, but couldn't move or speak. Oh, Jesus, he was thinking, the preacher! The preacher had caught them! Oh, shit....
"I don't know who you are, young man," Tom said sternly, "and I don't care to know. I just don't want to see your face again, ever. Understand me? If I see you near my daughter again, so help me, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"
Chris swallowed hard and croaked, "Yes, sir."
"Then, get out," said Tom.
He was obeyed instantly. He watched out the living room window as Chris hurried away, and then he began walking slowly upstairs. He knew he'd have to speak to Meg, as his fatherly duty, but what could he really say to her? Half an hour ago he'd been fucking Helen Davidson. How could he possibly criticize his daughter? She'd only been engaging in normal adolescent behavior, while he'd been committing adultery, being unfaithful to his wife ... Karen. Where the hell had she been all this time? Why hadn't she been keeping an eye on Meg? Tom grew red with rage. Passing by his daughter's bedroom door, he marched on to his own room and silently, angrily, stepped inside. Karen lay in bed, regarding him with lazy eyes.
"My God," she said dryly, "you must have had a rotten morning. You look furious."
"You bet I'm furious," Tom hissed. "All the while you've been lying here, drunk or whatever you're on your daughter has been making out with some kid in the living room. I got home just in time."
"Oh, dear," sighed Karen, "I thought she had more sense than that. It was pretty dumb to do it right in the house."
Tom couldn't believe his ears. Rage boiled inside him, and he lurched to the bed and slapped at her with all his strength, but Karen jerked out of the way just in time. "Now, Reverend," she said coldly, "don't lose your cool. Ministers don't beat their wives."
Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he said. "My God, I'm sorry. What's the matter with us, Karen? What's wrong with all of us? I just don't understand."
Karen showed no sympathy for his anguish, only impatience. "Speak for yourself, Tom. There's nothing wrong with Meg and me. We're just enjoying ourselves, and I don't see why you have to make a goddamn issue of it. Why don't you just leave us alone?"
Tom raised his head and looked at her. Dammit, she was beautiful, even at forty, even in her drugged state. Her silky blonde hair lay in shining cascades around her shoulders, and her flawless skin glowed soft and creamy. Her big tits met in an enticing crease at the deep-cut neck of her nightgown, and her large pink nipples showed plainly through the thin material. He wanted her as urgently as ever. That had never changed. It was only that Karen didn't want him any more.
"Perhaps if you and I could get back together," he said gently, "that would set a better example for Meg. I'd like to make it up, Karen. Whatever I've done, whatever's put you off please, tell me. Let's do something about it."
She looked at him stonily. "There's nothing you can do, Tom. I've told you again and again. You just don't excite me any more. It's gone. Resign yourself to it."
But he couldn't. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out beside her, reaching out to touch her magnificent, jutting tits. They were feverishly hot, pulsing with life. He squeezed them possessively and bent to kiss them, and Karen flinched but did not move away.
"Please, Tom," she said wearily, "not now. I don't feel like it."
"I'll make you feel like it," he said desperately.
He'd tried before. Many times in the past two years, since Karen had turned cold to him, he'd tried to arouse her, always without success. He could make love to her for hours, and she'd just lie there, enduring it. Still he hoped. Today would be different. He drew back the covers, exposing the whole length of her tall, lush body, and he slowly drew up her nightgown, over her long shapely legs, over the bright-blonde bush of her cunt, over her huge, quivering, pink-nippled tits.
She lay quite still and unresponding, but she did not resist as he slipped the gown off over her head, leaving her naked. Tom stood up and began to take off his own clothes, his eyes never leaving her lovely body. Just looking at her was enough to make him violently horny, even though he'd just fucked another woman. He thought of pressing his naked flesh full-length against her hot silky skin, thought of wedging apart her soft thighs and thrusting his hungry cock into her slick, wet passage and immediately his cock responded, growing rock hard and ready in his pants. He knew she never got wet for him any more, never clung to him, never moaned in passion, but it didn't have to be like that. Today he would succeed.
Karen watched him without expression. His body was superbly male, very attractive, and she knew she was lucky to have such a husband. But he did nothing for her. She was bored with him, bored to death. When she'd finally decided to have other men, after almost twenty years of marriage, she'd also decided never to turn Tom down when he wanted her. She was still living off his money, still married to him, and so she owed him that much. But she couldn't feign passion, couldn't pretend to be excited. That was beyond her powers. She could only lie there and let him use her cunt, while she longed for some other man, any man who could excite her.
"Karen. Oh, Karen." Tom's voice was husky, his big body shivering with lust as he crawled naked onto the bed beside her and pulled her into a fierce embrace. She was as hot and silky as he remembered, delicious to hold. He planted his mouth on one of her big rosy nipples and sucked it inside, bathing it with his saliva, tonguing it hungrily. The nipple quivered briefly, then began to rise into taut and bumpy erection under the greedy swishing of his tongue. That was an automatic response, however, not an indication of arousal. Karen lay limp in his arms, allowing him to suck her tits noisily, wetly, and all the while he stared at the ceiling, thinking of Brent. If only it were Brent in bed with her, not Tom ... Gradually, through no will of her own, her big soft tits went swollen and pointed, and Tom moved on, his wet lips trailing kisses down her belly and into the fragrant blonde puff of her cunt hair. She felt his eager fingers parting her cunt lips, seeking out her clit and still she was unmoved. For years her body had seethed and yearned for sex, but with her own husband she was absolutely frigid. She knew it was fruitless to wonder why. Knowing why wouldn't help. It was simply there.
Tom was not much of a man for foreplay. His rigid religious upbringing had taught him that it was "wicked", and even though he no longer believed this, the old prejudices inhibited him. He had never eaten Karen's cunt, never put his lips to her there. Sometimes, when he'd had a little to drink, he would ringer her clit, but that was all he could bring himself to do. Perhaps that was where he'd gone wrong. After twenty years, she must be a little tired of the same old thing. He remembered that the few times he'd touched her between the legs, she'd enjoyed it enormously. Today he'd surprise her. He scooted down the bed, gently separated her long legs, and crawled between them. Karen complied passively. For the very first time in their marriage, Tom had a close look at his wife's cunt.
Spreading her legs, gently opening her blonde-furred cunt lips, he gazed at the confusing maze of scarlet tissues. It seemed beautiful to him. He readily identified the tiny bright-red bump of her clit, where she liked so much to be touched, and the shadowed, recessed mouth of her cunt, fringed with light-blonde hairs, but the rest was a puzzle to him, its function unknown. The fleshy, thick, pink folds of her cunt lips, the dark, damp places inside, were unexplored territory.
Gently he reached out and ran his finger through the slick flesh. Karen quivered slightly, and he thought he heard her sigh. Encouraged, he kept on caressing her there, and presently the pink flesh grew moist and hot. He saw tiny beads of juice seeping from her dark cunt mouth, felt her moving gently at his touch. Perhaps at last he'd found the key to her arousal. He cursed himself for not being more bold in the past. If all she wanted was a little variety, he could give it to her. God knew he was ready for it himself. Their sedate, routine lovemaking had long left him yearning for something more, an added kick, a dark and wicked element of excitement....
Lying there between her legs, Tom felt his cock growing unbearably hard against his belly, digging into the sheets, dribbling warm juices. Just the act of touching and exploring her was making him terribly excited. He felt bolder with every passing second. Impulsively he parted her blonde cunt hair again and exposed the tiny red bud of her clit, which was quite dry and flaccid. He leaned close, his hot breath fanning her scarlet cunt, and he put out his tongue, using the very tip to tickle the tiny nub of red flesh.
Karen lurched violently beneath him and gasped. He knew he hadn't hurt her, so it must have meant that she liked it. He applied his tongue again to the little red shaft, gently but swiftly circling it, and this time he got a definite sign of arousal, the steamy gush of juice from her cunt.
His cock responded to her excitement, digging impatiently against the sheet, dribbling its own juices but he ignored it. It was far, far too early to fuck her. He wanted her hotly aroused, crying for it. He planted his mouth on her little moist clit and began to suck it noisily, wetly. Karen gasped again and started to moan very softly. He felt her cunt seeping more warm juices, wetting his chin.
Karen still gazed at the ceiling and, unknown to Tom, her expression grew cynical and bitter. Twenty years he had waited to eat her cunt. Twenty years she'd yearned for something like this, too modest and shy to tell him. Now it was too late. It felt great, of course. She couldn't fake that kind of arousal the moaning, the writhing, the hot seeping of her cunt and she really was aroused. But not by Tom. It was far too late for the man himself to arouse her. He left her cold. His tongue, his lips, his fingers, even his hot, moist breath, made her whimper with pleasure, but all the while she pretended he was someone else. Her imagination leaped around, pretending he was Brent, some actor who turned her on, even the garbage man but Tom White did nothing for her. She almost laughed aloud, thinking how ironic it was. The damned fool if only he'd done this years ago, she wouldn't have needed other men.
Tom was blissfully ignorant of her thoughts. He only knew that her lovely lush body was responding to him, that at last he'd gotten her wet and hot and horny. It encouraged him to go farther, to do things he'd never done before. He sucked her tiny clit vigorously, almost roughly, until it stood in rigid erection like a miniature cock, stiff and glowing and wet with her fragrant cream. Then he moved on, trailing his slick hot tongue wickedly through the plump pink folds of her cunt, licking and sucking into every dark recess.
Karen's soft cries changed, becoming loud and husky, and her cunt cream rushed out in steamy floods to wet his face. He hadn't aroused her so hotly in years, nor had he himself been so urgently horny for her. His cock ached with stiffness, his balls seemed ready to explode with cum, but he ignored his own needs. It was very important to arouse her fully, to make her really want him. It had been so long since she'd responded eagerly to his thrusts, since she'd welcomed his penetration....
She was hot now, but not hot enough. He wanted to make her frantic for it, as she had been in the early days of their marriage. He moved on, finding the dark, wet mouth of her cunt, slowly but wickedly circling it with his tongue, lapping up her steadily flowing cream. Karen, too, was thinking of their early years together and of how naive she'd been. A virgin when she married, absolutely inexperienced with sex, she'd thought there was only one way to do it the way Tom always did it. A few kisses, some timid fondling of her tits, and then she'd lie on her back and Tom would crawl on top of her and they'd fuck never more than a few minutes, never with any variations. That had satisfied her for years, till she became better informed. She read, she listened to other women gossiping, she explored her own body and found many areas that were pleasant to touch, places Tom never touched her.
At last she understood that there was a whole universe of sex she'd never known and she wanted desperately to know it. She wanted to experience every kinky thing there was, and she wanted to fuck as many men as possible. Only in Oakville, as a minister's wife, there was no way in the world she could admit these things, even to her husband. She could only continue to yearn, grabbing the few chances that came her way like Brent. But even Brent wasn't enough. She thirsted for more.
She felt Tom's slick hot tongue sliding slowly into her soaked cunt, and again she almost laughed in her bitterness. It felt wonderful, but it was too late. She didn't want it from him, she wanted it from someone else. She didn't mind lying there and enjoying it, but she wished desperately that he was some exciting stranger.
He stuffed his thick wet tongue deep into her hot little cunt, and she gasped with pleasure and creamed a flood of fragrant pussy juice, but all the while she was thinking: If only it were another man.
Tom, encouraged by her sharp response, dug his thick tongue in as far as he could, right to the roots, and the pleasure of his wet stabbing was so intense that she almost screamed. He began to tongue-fuck her, working his tongue swiftly and forcefully in and out of her wet hot cunt, just like a cock, and Karen gurgled wetly with pleasure, her cream spurting out to drench his face.
My God, if only he'd keep doing that, if only she didn't have to look at him, recognize him as her dull husband, she might even be able to come.
But her wish was not to be granted. Tom assumed that he'd worked her to a fever pitch of lust, that she would welcome his stiff prick now. How much more aroused could a woman get, after all? She was moaning steadily, creaming hot floods, working her hips in helpless fucking motions. He could hardly do better than that and his own need was too urgent to postpone. He'd almost come against the sheet already.
Trembling with horniness, he jerked his dripping face from her red-hot cunt, not even taking time to wipe her juices away, and crawled into position, seizing his heavy, aching cock and screwing the bloated purple head into the drenched mouth of her quaking cunt. By God, this time she was going to like it....
Karen stared up at him, thinking: He couldn't wait. Goddamn him, he couldn't wait. If only he'd brought her off with his tongue, she'd have fucked him gladly, but he just couldn't take the time. She almost screamed with frustration but she knew there was no point in it. He'd never understand. Later, when he left her alone, she could masturbate and relieve the aching need in her cunt. Now she could only endure.
Tom didn't notice the weary expression on her face. He thrust into her eagerly, slamming his swollen cock all the way to her quivering womb in one greedy shove. He began fucking her swiftly, roughly, the way he thought she'd like it. His balls slapped busily against her soft ass-cheeks, and he panted and moaned blissfully as he worked his hungry dick in the red-hot, slick passage of her cunt. Then it happened. All around him her cunt went slack and dry and unresponding just as it always did lately. She ceased to want him. She lay there limp and cold as a corpse. Tom couldn't believe it. He raised himself up to look at her and found that she was staring wearily into space.
"Karen?" he said bewilderedly. "Karen, why? I thought you wanted it."
She glanced at him, distant and preoccupied. "I told you, Tom, no. You don't do it for me any more. I'm sorry, but that's how it is."
"But, Karen my God! You were hot for me! You were ready! What went wrong?" he cried.
She sighed deeply. "Oh, for God's sake, let's not go through that again. Just come and get off me. Leave me alone."
Tom withdrew. Horny as he was, he'd rather jerk off than come in a woman who didn't want him. Bitterly, he marched off to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, hoping to calm himself with a cold bath. Bitter resolve formed in his mind. His ministry had come to nothing. All his preaching, all his patience and good works, had not changed the world in the slightest. He couldn't stop wars, he couldn't stop hunger, he couldn't stop people from being cruel to each other. Really, there was no point to it. He might as well live for himself, get his fun while he could, because there was nothing he could do for others. He couldn't even save his own wife and daughter, let alone the rest of the world. So why not just save himself?
It was a heady, exciting thought the idea of living just for himself, for his own pleasure. He'd never done that before. But what was his pleasure? What did he really want? It didn't take him long to decide. Still trembling with frustrated horniness, remembering all too vividly the wild things he'd just done with Karen's body, he knew. He wanted the supreme pleasure, sex, and he wanted to explore every aspect of it. His strict upbringing, his stem conscience, his carefully controlled behavior as a minister all had served to bottle up his natural instincts, until now he felt that he must unleash them or die.
It was only a question of finding a woman. That was something he could hardly do in Oakville, a hotbed of gossip which afforded no privacy, no secrets. He would have to go to Chicago ... Immediately he grew excited at the prospect. In Chicago, an enormous, wide-open city, no one would notice him or care what he did; and most important, there were women who could be bought, women who'd do anything for a price. Stepping from the shower, he almost chuckled at his own wickedness. The minister was going to a whorehouse. It was trite, it sounded like a dirty joke, and yet it was exactly what he wanted. Simple, efficient, certain pay the woman and have whatever he wanted of her. Yes, this minister was definitely going to get fucked, in every possible way he could think of.
He was free from his duties till Wednesday night. He could leave at once. He hesitated only a second before returning to the bedroom and hauling out his suitcase, telling Karen that he had "business" in the city. That, too, was trite, but he didn't care. He was going to take Helen Davidson's advice: Live.
CHAPTER FOUR
The girl was tall, full-titted, creamy-skinned, with long red dish-brown hair, and she was young enough to be his daughter. Greeting her at the door of his hotel room, Tom felt silly. It was a ridiculous thing to be doing, a respectable small-town minister, a man of almost fifty, laying out his hard-earned money on a call girl in the big city. Only an idiot would do a thing like this. So, then, thought Tom, he must be an idiot. He couldn't turn the girl away, so he invited her in.
"You're Tom?" she said in a slightly husky voice. "I'm Linda."
"How do you do, Linda?" he said, waving her to a seat. "Would you like a drink?" He knew he must sound stupid, but if he did, the girl gave no sign of noticing. She earned her living by not noticing men's faults. She smiled at Tom as if he were the most charming, sexy bastard she'd ever seen.
"I'd love a drink," she said, sitting down and crossing her gorgeous long legs. "What brings you to Chicago, Tom? Business?"
"Uh, yes," he said quickly, "I'm attending a convention. I'm an insurance salesman." He thought there was some irony in that.
Linda continued the small talk, getting him to loosen up, expand, talk about himself. She was very good at it, although he guessed her to be not more than twenty. Her mod clothes and heavy makeup were designed to make her look older and more sophisticated, but Tom took in her wide, almost dewy eyes, her perfectly fresh skin, and her flawless teeth, and he knew she was very young. He wondered what made such a beautiful girl go into such an ugly profession. He started to ask her, then chuckled at the triteness of his question.
Linda smiled at him. "What's so funny?" she said.
"You must have been asked this a million times," said Tom.
She chuckled. "For the money. It beats typing or waiting tables."
"Okay," said Tom, handing her a drink, "that answers my question."
"Then let me ask you one," said Linda. "You're not a poor man, I can tell from your clothes and luggage. And you're a very good-looking guy. What're you doing with me?"
"I'm not going to tell you my wife doesn't understand me," said Tom. "The truth is, I seem to turn her off. We've been married a very long time, and I suppose she's bored with me."
"But you're not bored with her?" said Linda.
"Surprisingly, no," said Tom, "but since she doesn't want me here I am."
"Yes," said Linda, eyeing him with undisguised appreciation, "here you are. Did you have anything particular in mind, Tom? Something special you wanted to do?"
To his horror, he blushed. He hadn't expected the girl to be so frank but of course it made sense. She was a professional, and she needed to know her job. He found it difficult to speak. "Well, I, ah" he stammered. "The fact is, I guess I must want almost everything."
Linda laughed and got to her feet. "So do we all, darling," she said. "But I'll do my best to please. Why don't you start by undressing me?"
Tom couldn't believe this was happening. It was too blatant, too harshly real. It was forcing him to voice and act out all his dark desires, aching longings that embarrassed and even shocked him. He wished the girl would be more subtle.
He approached her, after gulping down his drink, and with shaking hands reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. Linda smiled at him over her shoulder, and she gathered up her thick auburn hair and held it out of the way so he could do the zipper. It was a very mod dress, reaching clear to her ankles, but with long slits in the sides so that he could see her smooth, tan thighs. The zipper seemed endless. It began at the nape of her neck and ran down to her ass, and as Tom unzipped it he seemed to see mile after mile of creamy young skin. The girl was very clean and smelled of baby powder. That amused Tom, who had always thought that whores smelled heavily of cheap perfume. But, then, how was he to know? He'd never patronized one before.
At last the zipper was undone, and Linda gracefully rid herself of the dress in a few smooth motions, a shrug of her delicate shoulders, a wiggle of her slim hips, a step forward. She lightly kicked the garment away and stood there wearing only a skimpy pair of blue bikini panties and her red four-inch heels. She turned slowly toward Tom, and he found himself gawking like a horny adolescent at her rather long, slender tits and the dark-brown nipples that swayed softly as she moved. She was perfectly trim, not a bit of sag or fat, her little belly taut and tan, her legs very long and coltish. For the first time since she'd entered the room, he forgot his self-consciousness and began to feel a little spark of desire. She was luscious, young, fresh and that's what he'd come here for, dammit, a beautiful body to enjoy in any way he wanted. "Would you like to take off my panties, too, Tom?" she said.
He doubted his voice would come out right, so he merely knelt before her and slipped off the tiny garment. Her little reddish-brown cunt bush popped into view, springy and smelling of baby powder. She stepped nimbly out of her panties and walked away from him, over to the bed, where she sat down on the edge. "Maybe you'd like to take off my shoes, too," she said. "Some people get off on that."
Tom didn't care one way or the other, but he still didn't trust his voice, so he walked over, knelt, and removed her ridiculously high-heeled shoes, wondering how the hell women could walk in the damned things. Out popped a pair of remarkably small well-shaped feet, clean and pretty and suddenly he understood why some people might "get off" on feet. He wanted to caress them, kiss them, nibble her cute pink toes with their red nail polish so he did. What the hell, you only live once. Linda endured it for a moment, then giggled and snatched her feet away.
"That's not really your bag, I can tell," she laughingly chided. "You were just putting me on."
"Nice feet, though," said Tom, grinning. "I might be persuaded to change my fetish." He was beginning to feel at ease now, beginning to enjoy himself. It had only taken time, because he wasn't used to having fun, to doing something just for himself.
"Oh? What is your fetish?" Linda laughed.
"Bodies," said Tom, making a grab for her.
She nimbly rolled out of the way. "My turn to undress you," she said.
Tom obligingly stood before her and let her take off his clothes. He was pleased with the girl. He'd specified on the phone that he wanted a girl for a whole afternoon, not a rush job, and Linda was making it seem as if they had all the time in the world to play. She was good at her work, making him calm down, making him forget everything but the moment. As she loosened his tie and opened his collar, her hands were very gentle and deft. She seemed to caress and massage even as she undressed him. Tom closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feel of her small warm hands as they moved down his body. Effortlessly she removed and discarded his shirt, t-shirt, pants, shoes and socks. Her little hands were everywhere, massaging and soothing his body. At last she was tugging down his shorts, and he felt the cool air of the room on his ass, balls, and semi-hard cock. He shivered violently as he felt her warm little palms suddenly cradling and gently squeezing his sagging nuts.
"Do you like that, Tom?" she said.
"Yes, very much," he managed to reply.
He kept his eyes closed, but he rapidly began to feel dizzy as the girl massaged and pumped his fat, rosy balls. It felt great, and he realized wonderingly that no woman had ever touched him there before, not even his wife. He recalled some long-ago groping sessions in automobiles, when he was a horny teenage boy, and the few times when breathless girls had gingerly touched his cock, then snatched their hands away as if burned. That was all. His experience had been so limited. He was almost fifty, and he'd never had his balls stroked, his cock sucked ... It was a stupid, ridiculous waste of time. Why had he denied himself all these years? He swayed forward and rested his hands on the girl's silky shoulders to steady himself.
"Linda," he said hesitantly, "use your tongue on me, please. Lick me there. No one's ever done that before."
The girl seemed to hesitate, out of sheer surprise, but she quickly recovered herself. He opened his eyes and watched as her glossy auburn head dipped forward and her little pink tongue shot out, wet and shining. He saw her stiff little tongue tip contacting his silver-haired nut sac, tickling, nudging, and his eyes fluttered for a moment as dizzy pleasure rippled through him. He'd guessed it would be fun, but he hadn't anticipated anything like this. Her tongue felt delicious, hot and slick, on the sensitive surface of his dangling balls, and she used it very skillfully, tickling and licking and exploring every crease and hidden fold of his rosy testicles.
Soon his balls seemed totally bathed in wet heat, and he felt them plumping up, swelling with tight arousal.
When that happened, she licked more vigorously, pressing her tongue tip against the soft outer skin till she felt the hard ball inside. Just when he thought his nuts would burst, she suddenly snaked her tongue away, into the silver thicket of his pubic bush, seeking out the thick base of his cock. He hadn't had to tell her that he wanted his cock licked, too. She had guessed.
He watched as her small pink tongue emerged from the tight silver curls and began a very slow climb up the pale, semi-rigid shaft of his cock. She held the long cock in her hand, and she traced a burning wet line its whole length, till she reached the highly sensitive, dark-red glans. When the hot tip of her tongue touched him there, Tom experienced another violent shiver of pleasure. His eyes fluttered as he tried to watch her technique the tiny pink tongue tip easing sensuously into the dark slit of his glans, tickling and digging there, then emerging to race slickly around the smooth head of his cock.
His loins melted as fiery streaks of pleasure shot the length of his prick. His cock responded to her expert tonguing, and he watched the progress of his own erection the sudden twitching of the big, pale cock, the rippling and swelling of the milky-white flesh with its delicate tracery of blue veins. His cock swelled out thickly, lengthened, lifted, bringing itself heavily up out of her palm. In the dark-slitted mouth a small droplet of cock cream glistened.
Linda stayed right with his rising prick, her busy little tongue skipping hotly up the swelling shaft, nosing into the glans hole, lapping up the little bubble of juice. He found that his cock was especially sensitive there, right in that shadowed creaming hole, and the mischievous digging of her tongue excited him sharply. He was rapidly losing his inhibitions, his qualms, and he could think of nothing but the exquisite pleasure this girl might bring him.
"Oh, God, yes," he gasped. "Yes, do that ... don't stop ... " He kneaded her shoulders forcefully, then stopped as he realized that he must be hurting her. Resting his hands lightly on her smooth shoulders, he closed his eyes and delivered himself up to the quivering joy of having his stiff cock licked by that fantastic little tongue.
It seemed to be everywhere at once, lapping and poking wetly all around his swollen cockshaft, swishing around the bloated purple head of his dick, reaming his glans hole for more cream.
Already his balls felt ready to burst with their load, and he felt a crazy desire to come then and there, right in her lovely face ... But, no, he wanted to prolong his pleasure, to make the most of this day. It would be a long time before he could afford to repeat it. He forced himself not to come yet.
"Do you want me to suck your cock, Tom?" Linda said huskily.
The question seemed natural now, not shocking or embarrassing. After all, he had hired her for precisely this function, to give him every wild pleasure he'd ever wanted. "Yes," he said excitedly, "yes, please, do it."
Forty-eight years old and never had his cock sucked, Tom thought dizzily. He felt almost like a virgin trembling at the instant of penetration. He shivered violently as her warm lips touched the fat purple head of his stiff cock, then helplessly moaned as he felt himself slipping slowly into the incredible heat and wetness of her little mouth.
He looked down wonderingly and saw his pale cock gliding slowly between her lips, stretching them grotesquely, saw her cheeks drawing in to create a slick hot nest for his cock. She kept taking him in till his swollen balls grazed her chin. He wondered how she did it until he saw her neck muscles swelling and felt the tip of his prick tightly encased in the slick passage of her throat. Then she began to suck him, and the pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming, that he had to close his eyes again.
He didn't know how he would keep from coming. His entire aching cock was churning in her red-hot little mouth, bathed in fiery saliva, squeezed and milked and pumped by her powerful sucking. He heard himself whinny, gasp, whine ... His body broke out in a hot sweat as he struggled not to let go, not to end the afternoon prematurely. Her mouth sucked in tightly, then released, again and again, till he was reduced to a whimpering, trembling frenzy.
Her throat muscles tightened around his writhing cock till he was sure he couldn't hold out a second longer, that she would suck the juice right out of him. His balls rubbed bristly and hard against her tender chin, his cock stuffed her narrow throat completely, and yet she showed no signs of discomfort, never slackened the busy pace of her sucking.
Again he found himself digging his nails harshly into her shoulders, and he thought of her dry remark, "It beats typing or waiting tables." He wondered. Was it really just all in a day's work to have her throat stuffed with cock, to swallow a mouthful of some guy's cum? Was it really worth the money to surrender her body to half a dozen total strangers in an evening?
Whatever the case, she was good at her work. She kept up her vigorous, steady sucking of his swollen cock, and she began to make little gurgling noises in her throat, as if she, too, were highly aroused. Tom knew that she was far from aroused, that she was probably thinking of something entirely different from sex, but he found that he appreciated her show anyway. It increased his excitement to pretend that this beautiful young girl got off on sucking his cock, taking it into her throat ... In fact it got him so excited that he knew he was going to come any second. He gasped and gently pushed her away.
"Please," he said breathlessly, "I don't want to come yet."
His long, pale cock popped loudly from her wet mouth, gleaming brightly with her saliva. It waved heavily before him, pearly juice oozing from the slitted mouth of his glans. Linda grinned up at him and reached out to pet his hard, throbbing meat.
"Why don't you come now," she said teasingly, "and come again later? No law against it."
Tom laughed wistfully. "I'm an old man. I don't think I could get it up twice."
"Nonsense," said Linda, "you can't keep a good prick down."
She seized his heavy, wet cock and aimed it at her open mouth, as if to shove it in again, but at the same time she reached out and tickled his taut, aching balls, a mischievous action with the sharp tips of her nails. As if by magic, Tom gasped and helplessly shot his load.
"Oh, Christ!" he yelped. "AHHH!"
Pleasure racked his body, and he dizzily saw his creamy cum spurting out the head of his cock, jet after powerful jet. Linda held her mouth wide open and aimed his squirting cock into it. His jism sprayed thickly onto her tongue, and she lapped it up and swallowed it as he continued to gasp and shoot. At last he felt his cock going limp in her hand, slipping from her grasp, and he fell heavily onto the bed, panting and laughing.
"Well, sweetheart," he sighed, "I'm afraid you've wiped me out for the day. I hadn't planned it like this, but I admit it was fun."
Linda hopped onto the bed beside him, smiling mischievously. "You talk as if it were all over," she said. "But that was just for openers."
She seized his hairy, muscular legs and began to ease them apart. Tom felt too languid to resist, and he allowed her to open his thighs wide. He flinched a little as he felt the silky tickle of her hair on his inner thighs, and then he sighed with contentment as he felt her hot little tongue beginning its delicious work again, teasing and tickling his limp cock and balls. He probably wouldn't get it up again, but it sure as hell felt good.
He folded his arms behind his head, closed his eyes, and gave himself up to the exquisite pleasure of having his cock and balls licked. He wished Karen would do this to him, that she had done it during the long years of their marriage. Perhaps if he'd been bolder, if he'd led the way, they might have been more adventurous lovers. But there was no point in thinking about that now. It was over. Karen didn't want him any more. He hardened his heart and pushed her image away. By God, if he couldn't have these things with his wife, he'd find them elsewhere.
Linda was doing something different this time. She lapped his cock and balls clean of sticky cum, but she didn't linger. Her silky head was wedged tight between his thighs, and he felt the burning wet line of her tongue as she moved slowly downward, over his drained balls, and finally to the brown mouth of his ass-hole.
He was surprised and pleased to find how good it felt when she tongued him there. Just the gentle but insistent touch of her wet little tongue tip, circling the tight mouth of his ass-hole, was enough to send sharp waves of pleasure through his loins. No woman had ever done that to him, either, of course it would be unheard of with the class of women he'd always dated. Wasn't it dirty, wicked, evil? Perhaps. It was also a helluva lot of fun. He grunted happily and opened his thighs wider, giving the girl plenty of room to work.
Her hot little tongue was slick and rough on his puckered ass-hole, swishing around and around, and he felt himself relaxing, going limp and receptive to her aggressive tonguing. The muscles of his ass-hole relaxed, and the brown mouth opened very slightly. Her tiny pink tongue tip found the pinpoint opening and wriggled into it, warm and wet and sharply pleasurable.
Tom grunted louder at the teasing penetration, and he felt his anal sphincter developing a life of its own, relaxing completely and opening wider to receive her tongue. She didn't hesitate a second, but thrust her slick little tongue right up his ass-hole.
"AHHHH, GOD!" Tom wailed. "My God, that's good!"
He couldn't help telling her so, because it was true. It was the most delicious thing he'd felt in his life, her velvety, hot little tongue snaking far up into his shit chute, stuffing his narrow ass-hole. He didn't know why such a crazy thing should feel so good, but he wasn't going to stop and analyze it.
His heart pounded with excitement, he hardly breathed, as Linda expertly began to ream his pungent ass-hole with swift forceful motions of her slick warm tongue. It was lewdly noisy, squishing and slurping, and the very sound excited him. He groaned and gurgled with complete abandon as her busy little tongue cleaned out his ass-hole, so deeply buried in him that her button nose nudged his balls.
Why, in God's name, had he denied himself all these years? What had he been trying to prove? Obviously there was only one thing worth existing for, the exquisite pleasures of the body. Everything else was empty, worthless....
Her delicious reaming and probing were exciting him beyond rational thought. His darkest fantasies bubbled to the surface of his mind, freed at last, uncontrolled. "Wait," he panted, "Let me do it to you, too...."
She altered her position instantly, her tongue hardly leaving his aroused ass-hole. Before he knew it, she was straddling him, her cute little round ass-cheeks right in his face, and her hot tongue was snaking into his ass again.
Tom's movements were equally swift, for he let his instincts guide him completely. He grabbed her sweet little ass and tugged her downward, till he could separate the plump white ass-cheeks and see the light-brown wrinkled mouth of her ass-hole. It seemed too tiny for his big tongue, but as he thrust the tip of his tongue against it, he saw the little mouth twitch and open, wide enough to accommodate the very end of his tongue.
He pushed hard, and her anal muscles parted. His thick tongue slid swiftly and easily up her slick little shit chute. He felt her slim body quiver over him for a second and knew that he'd given her at least a little pleasure. Then she returned to reaming him as he began to probe her tight little ass-hole with his long wet tongue. Her taste was sharp and distinct, but he found that it excited him. He salivated heavily as he cleaned her ass-hole out, reaming and probing as deeply as he could. She was hot in the depths of her bowels, hotter than any cunt and twice as tight.
Someday, he thought, someday he would fuck a woman in the ass ... But not this one. He knew she was paid to do anything, but he liked her, and he saw that her tiny ass-hole was much too narrow to take in his oversized cock with comfort. He would tongue-fuck her instead. The horny wriggling of her cute little ass told him that she liked it.
The noise of their anal reaming was loud and wet now, obscenely juicy, and Tom found himself just as excited as he'd been ten minutes ago, before coming. It seemed miraculous, but his balls were swelling and tightening again, his cock starting to twitch into life.
Her tongue drove deep and hot and slick up his pulsing ass-hole, and suddenly his cock sprang into full life, pushing up thick and stiff and heavy against her dangling tits. She felt it and mischievously trapped it between her silky hot tits, pumping him there, frigging him with her cushiony boobs. He felt his cock juice bubbling out helplessly, smearing her tits, making his horny fucking motions slick and swift. In seconds he was ready to come again, though he could hardly believe it.
He popped his tongue from her little brown ass-hole and looked at her fully exposed cunt, only inches from his flushed face. There was no life in her flaccid little clit, only a faint shine of cream around the slitted mouth of her cunt. He felt a little disappointed, though he knew he shouldn't be. She might fuck dozens of men every day, and she couldn't get aroused with all of them. Anyhow, it was not his job to arouse her. It was her job to service him for the money he'd paid. Her body was his to use he resolved not to think beyond that.
He seized her and gently lifted her off him, rolling her onto her back. She came submissively, smiling at him, her lovely face rosy and flushed. She licked her lips of the last traces of the pungent juices of his ass-hole.
Tom moved forward on his knees, getting between her lovely long legs. He seized her legs and lifted them high, up onto his shoulders, and let them rest there. Linda's heavily lashed eyes fluttered, and she gave a husky little whimper and locked her legs around his neck, pulling him toward her.
Tom knew it was all an act, but it still turned him on the breathless murmurs, the rolling eyes, the pull of her leg muscles urging him to fuck her. He was perfectly willing to pretend that this exquisite young girl wanted him to fuck her.
He returned her naughty grin, seized her wriggling hips, and pulled her toward him, till the drooling, dark-red head of his cock grazed her hair-fringed cunt. Linda whimpered and trembled at his touch, a superb little actress. He almost imagined that her scarlet slit was creaming, though he knew it was only his own juices.
"Hurry," she whimpered, "fuck me, Tom...."
She pumped her hips to emphasize her urgency, and it was then that he noticed how incredibly slim and delicate she was. Her hips had a good round feminine curve, yet they were childishly narrow, her belly taut and tiny, her little auburn muff of cunt hair a mere adolescent patch. My God, she was even younger than he'd thought, probably no more than eighteen. Her pelvis seemed too narrow for fucking, her small cunt mouth far too small to take in his thick nine inches of swollen cock. He felt brutish, savage and hesitant.
He pressed the enormously fat head of his prick to her tiny cunt mouth and pushed very gently. It was a tight squeeze, but he went in, watching in awe as her cunt mouth stretched grotesquely to accommodate his big cock. He saw himself sliding into her, his white shaft slowly disappearing into her little belly, and he almost imagined a perceptible rippling of her stomach muscles as his gigantic cock stuffed and filled her. Her cunt was adequately lubricated, but he doubted it was her own cream. He glanced at her face and saw that he'd caught her daydreaming. She started, blinked, then flashed him a dazzling smile. What had she been thinking of?
"Ooooo," she crooned, "it's so big! I like that, Tom ... I like them big and long! Please, fuck me, move ... I want it!"
He wondered how many times she'd said that. It was a strangely empty moment for him as he lowered himself onto her delicious little body and began to fuck her.
He remembered Helen Davidson, her boiling, wet cunt, the way she'd clung to him and wailed in obvious passion. In contrast, Linda went through her professional acrobatics, tightening her legs around his neck, working her pelvis and cunt in a steady lewd motion, moaning and whimpering in her practiced way. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to excite a woman beyond reason, as he'd done with Helen, as he longed to do with Karen ... He didn't want a mechanical doll. He could buy Linda's body, of course, he could pay her to do anything he wanted, but he couldn't purchase her emotions, her passion and so the act was incomplete. He'd come, yes, he'd get his money's worth, but he knew that if he were to live for pleasure, it would not be with hired bodies.
But what the hell, he'd paid his money, and he was damned well going to enjoy himself. He suddenly slipped his hands under her wriggling little ass-cheeks, gripped them cruelly hard, and pulled her brutally down on his deeply lodged prick, butting her cunt walls cruelly, making her cry out.
The girl stared at him in sudden fear. He hadn't looked like a rough man, a man who wanted to hurt. Linda gritted her teeth and whimpered as Tom began to fuck her violently, slamming his thick long cock into her, raking and bruising her narrow, unprepared cunt.
It was her job, so she said nothing, only endured it. Tom vaguely saw the lines of pain on her pretty young face, saw that he was shaking her whole body with the force of his fucking, but he didn't care. From now on he was going to think of only one person, himself. He'd devoted his life to trying to help the world, but it hadn't listened, and he no longer cared about saving others. In the time he had left, he would save himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
He came after a while, but it was no more than a mechanical release, involving no passion or gut satisfaction. He needed more than this girl had to offer. He rolled off Linda and began to gather up his scattered clothes. The girl watched him for a moment and then began to dress, too. Her eyes were moist, her face pale, from the pain he had given her, but she said nothing about it. She had been well paid to take it. She couldn't resist flashing him a contemptuous look as she left, however.
Let's face it, baby, thought Tom, I'm just not a very nice guy.
That amused him, for who else besides ministers were expected to be super-nice guys? He was sick of the role. He wanted to be selfish, inconsiderate, and totally devoted to Number One. He'd laid himself out for other people all his life, and he'd gotten kicked in the teeth for it. No more Mr. Nice Guy, he thought, half amused and half bitter.
As he drove back to Oakville he wondered what his wife was doing. If she followed her regular habits, she'd just be dragging herself upstairs after getting drunk in front of the TV. She'd pop a pill to make her sleep, and nothing would rouse her till morning. Meg, whatever she was up to, would go unattended.
Meg. In his new life of selfishness, of living only for pleasure, he still had one duty, and that was to his daughter. She needed at least one parent who cared, who cared enough to keep her in line. Tom drove faster in the gathering dusk, hurrying home to the one human being he still cared for.
As Tom sped along the freeway out of Chicago, his wife Karen was just stepping into a sleazy bar on the outskirts of Oakville, a place frequented by truckers and day laborers and more solid citizens who didn't want to be seen in the more popular watering places of that gossipy little town. Karen didn't know how long Tom would be gone, but she sure as hell wasn't going to sit around the house waiting for him. If he could go away to the city on short notice, then she was entitled to a little fun, too. It seemed as if she'd never had any fun, having to be a minister's wife, having to be impossibly good and sweet and proper all the time. Tonight she was going to step out. She was forty this year and, by God, if she was going to enjoy herself at all, it'd better be quick.
Heads swiveled as Karen entered the bar and walked to a table at the back of the room. There were a few whistles, and a few men poked each other and winked. She didn't look forty, especially in the dim bar light. She looked perhaps in her mid-twenties, and stacked. Gorgeously stacked. Her big firm tits poked out defiantly under her tight sweater, and the saucy miniskirt showed off her tiny waist, beautifully curved hips, and long legs. Her shining blonde hair swung and glinted youthfully as it fell to her shoulders. She looked delicious, absolutely out of place in that crummy tavern.
Most of the men had the decency to turn away after their first look, but not Tony Maleski. He stayed turned around on his bar stool, sipping his beer, and eyeing the blonde with undisguised interest. Tony didn't believe in chivalry and courtship and all the other fine nuances of middle-class behavior, because, he'd discovered, nice guys always lose. Tony believed in finding what he wanted and going after it. And he badly wanted this girl.
He worked hard, breaking his ass on construction jobs, and at the end of the day he liked to enjoy himself with a few drinks and a little cunt. The trouble was, he never met any classy chicks, just dogs. He was tired of dogs. This beautiful blonde was much more his class much more the style he wished to become accustomed to. He eyed her big ripe tits, fully outlined under the clinging pink sweater, her long legs as she crossed them, the pink pout of her mouth. Yes, he wanted some of that. He grinned at her, but she pretended not to see him.
His buddy, Shorty, gripped his shoulder and tried to swing him around to face the bar. "Jesus, man," said Shorty, "you're about as subtle as a Sherman tank. I don't think the lady-likes that."
"We'll see what she-likes," said Tony. "I'm gonna go over there and sit with her."
Shorty sputtered. "Like hell you are. Even you don't have that much nerve."
"Wanta bet?" said Tony.
"Sure. Five bucks says she turns you down." Shorty was smirking now. "Okay, pal," said Tony, slipping off the stool. "See ya tomorrow."
Karen had noticed the man right away as she walked to the table a great, broad-shouldered brute of a guy, maybe six feet five and well over two hundred pounds. All of that bulk was muscle, not a bit of flab. He could be in his mid-thirties, though it was hard to tell because of his weather-beaten look and the thinning hair at his temples. He was very good-looking in a rough, menacing way, but what attracted her was not so much his facial features as his whole aura of animal strength and daring. With a lover like him, there would be no game-playing, no time wasted, no boring talk. Such a man would be all action, rough and tough and ready. He would be the opposite of her husband, a welcome change from her timid young lover.
Not that she actually contemplated picking him up. She'd come to drink, maybe to flirt a little, but she hardly expected to take home some stranger. A little middle-class caution remained in her, in spite of the booze and pills. So she felt uneasy when the big man stared at her, and she felt a tinge of fear when he got up and made for her table. She didn't show it, however. That would be the wrong move. She assumed a bored expression as he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her.
"Now, just tell me," he said in a gravelly voice, "what's a winner like you doing in a dump like this?"
Karen couldn't help grinning at his blatant come-on. "What I'm doing is having a drink," she said dryly. "Can't you tell?"
He laughed. "Oh, yeah, I see. What're you drinking? I'd like to buy you another one."
She certainly wanted another one, so she let him buy it. Her capacity for alcohol seemed endless, and this guy had a hollow leg, too. They sat there and downed six whiskies apiece, chatting, bantering, getting pretty turned on to each other. Karen began to feel rather urgently horny which always happened when she'd had a lot to drink. Could she risk making it with this man? Would he be discreet? She knew only that his name was Tony, he was a laborer, and his estranged wife lived in another town. He sounded like an irresponsible man, but he was hellishly attractive. She wanted him badly. And the more she drank, the less risky it seemed.
The bar was closing, and she hadn't realized it was so late. When she stood up, her knees were rubbery, and she giggled and stumbled. Tony caught her deftly around the waist, and his touch was electric, filling her with boiling need. She felt her cunt creaming hotly, the crotch of her panties going wet. She leaned against him, and he guided her out into the cool, fresh night.
"I'd like to take you home," he said, "but I ain't got a car."
"That's all right," said Karen, "well take mine."
She let him drive, giving him instructions, and when he saw that they were headed for the respectable residential part of town, he looked at her curiously. "Hey, you live here? You married or something?"
Karen nodded. "Don't worry about it. My husband's out of town." She saw their neat white house. "Pull up here."
Tony stopped the car. "Well, I dunno. There's your neighbors and all...."
Karen shrugged, trying to look indifferent, even though her furiously creaming cunt ached for this man. "Well, it's up to you, Tony. Do you want to come in with me or not?"
He eyed her lush body, and a look of defiance came over his rough face. "Hell," he said, "I'm not afraid of anything. Let's go, beautiful."
Karen almost sighed aloud with relief, and as she guided him through the dark house, her body throbbed with horny excitement. He would be the third lover of her life, only the third, but he was a superb physical specimen, an exciting animal. She could hardly wait to lie naked in his arms. They tiptoed past Meg's room, and Karen was relieved to find the light out and the girl breathing softly in sleep. She didn't want to be bothered with any maternal responsibilities right now. She led Tony on to the master bedroom and closed the door behind them before switching on the small bedside lamp.
He towered over her as his dark eyes swept the room. "Classy," he said, "real nice. Your husband must make a pretty good living."
"Let's not talk about him," said Karen. "Let's just think about us." She kicked off her shoes and began to unbutton her skirt, but she was so excited that her hands trembled.
"Hey," said Tony in the raspy voice she found so exciting, "Let me do that."
He strode over to her, picked her up, and deposited her on the bed. His hands seemed enormous as he laboriously removed her skirt and sweater and bra and panties, taking care not to damage the delicate garments. Karen lay there, completely submissive, enjoying the wonder and adoration in his eyes. When she was naked, she wickedly spread her long legs, just enough to give him a peek at her scarlet cunt. The big man licked his lips, and his eyes widened.
"Oh, Jesus," he said softly. "Jesus, you're beautiful."
In fact she was the most beautiful thing Tony Maleski had ever seen. She was like a great big doll, creamy-skinned and flawless, perfectly designed. He started to fumble out of his clothes, but he was hardly conscious of doing so. He couldn't take his wondering eyes off her huge pale tits, tits so large that, by rights, they should have sagged or drooped. These were stiff and swollen and perfectly round, the bright-pink nipples standing up like strawberries on ice cream, great inviting globes of pure milky flesh.
The rest of her was damned nice, too the long legs, the. nipped-in waist, that cute little golden puff of cunt fur but what really knocked him out were her fantastic tits. He wondered if they were real. She was (at least by his standards) a wealthy woman, so maybe she'd had some kind of operation to make her tits look so great. He'd heard that rich women were always having themselves restyled. He kicked away his pile of discarded clothing and climbed onto the bed beside her, reaching out eagerly to paw her tits. They were real warm, silky, throbbing with life. Shit, they were real....
Karen had hardly kept from moaning and writhing with impatience as she watched him undress. She didn't want any strip act, any fore play. She just wanted his heavily muscled giant body enveloping her, pressing into her, getting right to the action. She shamelessly ogled his broad, hair-matted chest, narrow hips and ass, and the long dangling sausage of his prick. She was delighted to find that his cock and balls were big like the rest of him. From a dense dark forest of tightly curled pubic hair, his long thick cock waved heavily, as long as her husband's even in its flaccid state. His balls, bushy with black hairs, seemed as large as oranges as they dangled menacingly in their loose bag.
She had no fear at all about taking that enormous cock into her body she craved it. It was the giant prick of her fantasies, big enough to satisfy her endless horny urge to be stuffed fully, fucked deeply and brutally. As he approached her and the bed sagged heavily under his weight, she sighed helplessly, and her hot cunt creamed, overflowed, making a steamy puddle on the sheet.
She was a little disappointed when he reached for her tits, though not surprised. Every man she'd ever met had been fascinated with her boobs, and she supposed it was a male fixation. Why, just this Sunday when she was leaving church, she'd noticed Tom gawking at her tits. Poor Tom, standing there in his black robe, making like a preacher but looking more like a choir boy, helplessly ogling her tits. He wanted her, all right, but he could never give her what she craved a complete animalistic abandon, sex without caution or tenderness, a brute fucking that shook and bruised her famished body. No, she needed a man like Tony. At least she hoped Tony was the kind of lover she sought. He was taking far too long toying with her tits, fooling around, and that was a bad sign.
He squeezed the big warm mounds in his huge paws, then chuckled. "Hell," he rasped, "I thought they were fake. I just had to find out."
"Well, now you know," Karen said dryly. She hoped that would end the subject, that he'd fuck her now but he only licked his lips and went on squeezing her tits, as happy as a kid with a new toy. She glanced down and saw that his huge pale prick was still limp. Something had to be done. Clearly the man was awed and intimidated by her, afraid to let go with her. She decided to prove that she was no porcelain doll. She reached out and curled her fingers around his thick, limp cock.
"Hey," said Tony, gawking at her. "Hey, what's this?"
Karen only grinned at him. He went on gawking, and she started pumping his flaccid cock, feeling the silky loose outer skin slipping and sliding in her hand. With her other hand, she seized the wrinkled foreskin at the head of his prick and began to tweak it back in mischievous tugging motions, slowly unveiling the purple glans with its dark slit-mouth. Tony's huge hands slowly drifted from her quivering tits, and he stared at her as if he couldn't believe what was happening.
In fact he couldn't. Tony had a very simple and definite opinion of women, common to men of his class, and Karen just didn't fit into any category. There were bad girls, the girls you fucked, and there were good girls, the ones you married, and that was all. He'd classified Karen as a good girl right away, a classy, respectable woman. Good girls don't play with cocks. At best, they just lie there and let you fuck them, but they don't get excited and they don't start playing with you. That's what bad girls are for. You fuck your wife as a duty, but you have fun with someone else. This had always been true in Tony's life. So he couldn't figure out this delicate, sweet-smelling blonde with the angel face, playing with his cock like some experienced hooker. It blew his mind.
Karen pumped his cock more vigorously, her hot little hand racing up and down the plump shaft. She suddenly slipped her other hand under his big dangling balls and began to squeeze them. Tony moaned automatically, because it felt great, but he was still bewildered. She was a lady, for chris sake, and he didn't know how to treat her. He felt he couldn't be rough, couldn't just jump on her and fuck her yet everything she did invited him to behave in precisely that way. He broke out into a hot sweat of excitement and confusion.
Karen's small hand deftly cradled and pumped his hot, shaggy balls, and with the other hand she drew his semi-hard cock toward her lips. Tony saw her little pink tongue dart out to lap and tickle the sensitive purple flesh of his glans, and it was just too much for him. He shivered, groaned, at the delicious, wet warm licking, and his huge cock came to life, his balls swelling up enormously with a heavy load of cum, tightening till they ached and rubbed fiercely against her palm. His cock twitched convulsively a few times, almost tearing itself from her grasp, and then slowly filled, growing enormously long and fat and rigid.
She maintained her hot grip on it, shivering excitedly as she felt the silky skin growing taut, the inner core going hard and heavy. She saw his cock growing enormous in her hand, and a gush of hot cunt juice spurted from her aroused pussy. His rigid cock seemed beautiful to her, and she could hardly wait to feel it sliding into her famished, flooded cunt.
But still the big man stared down at her. What did she have to do to get him started? She grinned wickedly at him, blatantly displaying her lust, and she used her expert little pink tongue to tickle the fat purple head of his cock. She was answered by a sudden spurt of thick salty cream from the slit of his cockhead, but Tony remained immobile and astonished. Karen sighed with impatience and popped the enormously thick head of his prick into her mouth. She began sucking on it voraciously, and she saw Tony's rugged face turn beet red.
"Hey," he said wonderingly. It seemed to be all he could say.
Karen couldn't take much of his thick cock into her mouth it stretched her lips painfully but she sucked in as much as she could and continued her loud, wet, greedy sucking. His cock cream dribbled steadily onto her tongue, and with her free hand she felt his grotesquely enlarged balls throbbing with their painful load. The man was obviously aroused, almost ready to come. So why didn't he DO something? She went on sucking his thick hot cock, went on squeezing his taut swollen balls, and she spread her long legs and drew them up, revealing her whole scarlet cunt, obscenely inviting him to fuck her.
Tony felt fiery little bursts of pleasure melting his loins as the blonde sucked loudly on his cock. He watched in utter fascination as she sucked his cockhead, her little pink mouth stretched wide, and he gawked in wonder as she spread her legs and drew them up obscenely, like a whore. He saw the fiery red of her tiny swollen clit, the flushed glistening pink of her cunt lips, the quaking little mouth of her cunt as it spewed eager cream. He could not believe the lewdness of this woman. It just didn't fit in with her social class, her polished manners, her style.
He puzzled over it and then at last he had it. She was crazy. The bitch was obviously dingy, right out of her tree, otherwise she wouldn't be acting this way. He'd gotten hooked up with some rich horny nut, and the only question was, what to do? Probably her husband was wealthy and influential and could get Tony in a lot of trouble. Should he take the risk?
He looked down at her voluptuous body, the most beautiful tits and cunt he'd ever seen, her inviting silky skin, the look of horny invitation in her blue eyes and he decided the hell with it, he was going to fuck her. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't. If her husband showed up, that was the breaks. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. His decision made, Tony came out of his trance, grinning lustily at Karen, feeling hot excitement in his balls. He was going to fuck this crazy chick's brains out.
He drew away from her, sliding off the bed and standing up. He knew how he looked, because women had pointed it out to him before, and he gloried in the effect a huge man, towering over everything, his gigantic stiff cock hugging his belly, the creamy tip almost touching his navel. That was what always got them, the way his dick stretched almost to his belly button.
Karen was no different. She spotted it right away, and her eyes glazed over with dizzy longing. She licked her lips hungrily.
He felt sorry for little guys. He knew damned well that women liked big cocks, the bigger the better. This blonde was creaming herself and turning red all over as she eyed his fat stiff meat. She wanted it oh, Jesus, did she want it!
Tony leered at her, and she moaned softly and threw her legs open as wide as she could. He saw the delicate fringe of blonde hair glistening in the lamp light, the moist, scarlet cunt inside, the tiny slit of her cunt mouth with its steady trickle of cream.
"Yeah, baby," he said huskily, "yeah. I'm gonna give it to you. We're gonna have a good ride, you an' me."
His very coarseness excited her beyond reason, beyond shame. She pumped her hips lewdly, moaned, panted, as she waited for him to fuck her. He gloated over her, watching her helpless horniness, and then suddenly he reached out and seized her ankles, pulling her legs out straight. He stood there, knees resting against the edge of the bed, and he pulled her legs up under his arms and held them snugly, spreading and immobilizing her.
Karen felt completely dominated, pinned. He pulled her body slowly toward him, lifting her pelvis right off the bed, till the delicate blonde hair of her cunt grazed the, coarse curls of his dark pubic bush. He quickly seized his rigid, swollen cock and jammed the head brutally into the tiny wet mouth of her cunt. Then, taking a firm grip on her legs again, he jerked her forward and penetrated her roughly, deeply.
Karen screamed in ecstasy. As his gigantic thick cock plunged deep into her cunt, her cream shot out helplessly, splattering his loins, and she began a steady hoarse moaning and shrieking, unable to hold back the sounds of her pleasure. She felt the thick, hard cock stuffing her cunt almost to bursting, pushing with unrelenting force right to her womb. It was the cock of her dreams, all right, so big that it forced the breath out of her, so long that she imagined it would keep going right through her body. She wanted to cling to him, hump wildly against him, but he kept her pinned in that helpless position so that their bodies didn't meet at all except for the joining of cock and cunt.
He was not a tender man, not interested in the cozy rubbing of body against body. He wanted her cunt, and that was all. His very rejection excited her, and when he began to slam his thick cock swiftly back and forth in her steamy little cunt, she wailed her pleasure without shame.
Tony felt dizzy with the unexpected delights of her cunt, which was the hottest and tightest he'd ever fucked. All his women had been well-used, spacious and slack, wet and willing but loose. This one was different. She was practically new merchandise. As he went into her, her powerful cunt muscles gripped and squeezed his dick, sucking and tugging fiercely at him, and her cream boiled abundant and red hot around his probing shaft. He always tried to stay cool and in command when he was fucking a chick, but for a moment he lost it.
"Shit," he whined, "so tight ... Jesus, baby, you're hot! It's good, real good...."
He caught himself. He didn't like to hear his voice, didn't like to give the woman the upper hand. He gritted his teeth to stifle his moans of pleasure, and he fucked her hard, deep and brutal and quick. Her reaction delighted him. At the bar she'd been cool and poised, very much in control of things, but now the tables were turned. Her lovely face told everything in the wildly rolling eyes, the flared nostrils, the licking pink tongue, the horny little grimaces. Her whole gorgeous body was flushed with arousal, her hips jerked helplessly to his strokes, and her sweet little hole gushed steamy floods of cunt cream all around his slamming cock. She wailed and shrieked and gasped in helpless excitement as he fucked her faster and faster. This was the moment he liked best, the woman going out of control, crazy for his cock, losing her cool completely.
"Good for you, baby?" he taunted.
"Oh, my God, YES!" she sobbed. "Yes, yes, the best ever! Oh, Tony, I love it, it's so good! Fuck me, fuck me!"
In a moment she began to come. Tony had never seen anything like it. None of his women had had so intense a climax, and he watched in awe as her whole body convulsed violently. She screamed without restraint, and her powerful cunt muscles gripped his buried cock like a vise. Her cream poured out endlessly, pooling on the sheet in thick puddles. She rested only a second when the convulsions stopped, and then she was working her horny little pussy again, jerking it to his strokes, wanting more. He began to feel like he was fucking Superwoman but as long as he could hold out, he'd give it to her. That tight, blazing little cunt was just too good to waste.
Somehow he managed to hold out for a few minutes, and she must have come a dozen times. Her cunt seemed to grow tighter and hotter with every climax, till it threatened to squeeze his cock flat. He was dizzy with lust, hardly able to hold her legs, hardly able to stand. The fierce heat around his jerking cock, the delicious bath of her cunt cream, were too much at last, and he yelped loudly as he felt his nuts loosing their load, felt the delicious sizzling of his cum as it left his cock and flooded into her belly. He stumbled forward and fell heavily onto her, and he felt her arms tightening around his ass, pulling him into her cunt even more deeply as he writhed in a seemingly endless orgasm.
Downstairs Tom unlocked the front door and tiptoed into the house. It was almost four in the morning, and he was exhausted from his hard nonstop drive. He was feeling his way across the dark living room when he heard the noises a woman's hoarse screams, a man yelping savagely. Fear raced through him, terrible visions of Meg and Karen in the hands of some maniac prowler, and he raced up the stairs. He saw a light under the door of the master bedroom and was sure the sounds were coming from in there. Let Meg be all right, he prayed, let Meg be safe....
He threw open the door and skidded to a halt. On the bed Karen writhed and moaned in the arms of an enormous man who was fucking her fiercely but it was no rape. Her legs were twisted lustily around his jerking body, and her hoarse cries told the rest.
"Come in me!" she sobbed. "Fuck me, ohhhh, yesss!"
But already Tony was pulling away from her, his cock dribbling out the last of his cum as it slipped from her gleaming, flooded cunt. Karen hadn't heard the door fly open, but he had. He leaped to his feet and assumed a fighting stance, glaring at the distinguished, silver-haired man who stood in the doorway. Then Karen saw him too, and she went dead still.
A lot of things flew through Tom's mind in that silent moment of confrontation the natural jealousy of the cuckolded husband, the sharp anger at having been fooled, a wave of disgust for his wife but he stifled it all. He had just come from the arms of a whore. He had determined to live solely for his own pleasure shouldn't Karen have that option, too? It stung him, hurt him deeply, that this man could excite her while he couldn't, but he wouldn't solve anything by creating a scene. He took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could.
"This, I take it, is a voluntary thing? He didn't attack you?"
Karen's expression changed from fear to hostility. "No, he didn't. Get out and leave us alone."
"Of course," said Tom, "but just one thing. Didn't it occur to you that your daughter is in the next room? Couldn't you have done this somewhere else?"
"It's my home, too!" Karen spat. "As for Meg, there's not a helluva lot she doesn't know. She's no child"
"SHUT UP!" Tom shouted. "You leave her out of this! You do what you want, but leave my daughter OUT!" He stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Tony gawked at Karen. "Lady, you sure got a weird marriage."
"Don't we?" Karen sighed. "Now, come here...."
CHAPTER SIX
To his great relief, Tom found Meg sleeping soundly, though he wondered how she could have slept through the raucous fucking of Karen and the stranger. He went downstairs, swallowed a stiff drink, and lay down on the sofa to rest until morning, when he could escape to his office. He didn't want to see or talk to Karen. It was over between them. He couldn't blame her for having another man, of course, since he'd decided to allow himself other women. Nor would he ask her for a divorce, since that would reflect badly on his status as a minister. They would continue to live in the same house, pretend to be husband and wife, but both would know that the marriage was finished.
He went to his office early and busied himself with accumulated paperwork. He had lunch with the heads of various volunteer groups, and when he returned to the office he'd hardly had time to sit down when the phone rang. It was Mabel Henry, a young woman who was noted for her constant attendance at church and her unfortunate lack of intelligence.
"Yes, Mabel," Tom said cordially, "what can I do for you today?"
"Oh, Reverend White," Mabel said in a distraught voice, "I just have to see you. I'm in so much trouble. I been crying all night, I don't know what I'll do" She began to sob on the phone.
"Now, Mabel," Tom soothed, "calm down. You just sit tight, and I'll be right over. Whatever the problem is, I'll help, so don't worry."
Mabel muttered a tearful goodbye, and Tom hung up, sighed, and headed for his car. It looked like a tedious afternoon. Next to preparing his sermons, it seemed that his heaviest workload consisted of comforting and calming hysterical women. It happened at least once a week, sometimes oftener weeping women seeking his attention and advice. Why weren't there any hysterical men? Hysterical children? Anything for a change. And almost always, the women's problems proved petty and predictable the nagging suspicion that she had "sinned," a temporary fit of depression, a fleeting weariness of husband or children or marriage. Tom could do little but listen and reassure, but it took up a lot of his time.
Mabel Henry, one of numerous children born to a poor couple in the less desirable part of Oakville, had been trying to "better" herself since she was sixteen. She wanted desperately to become respectable and middle class. She'd dropped out of school to take a typing course, and now she worked as an underpaid secretary in an insurance office. She had an apartment of her own and even a second-hand car. In material terms, Mabel had done pretty well for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. But in emotional terms, she was a mess.
She had failed to attain the crowning ambition of every Oakville girl, rich and poor she hadn't married. This worried Mabel terribly, but there was little she could do about it, because there weren't many eligible men in the little town, and she was not pretty, not charming, and not very bright. She went to church every Sunday in an effort to quell her need for a man. After all, the Bible said that virginity was a special virtue. But church wasn't enough. Mabel was subject to hysterical fits of depression and loneliness. Tom felt sorry for the girl, but he really didn't see what he could do for her. She'd been dealt a lousy hand at the beginning, and she just had to play it.
Even the sight of Mabel's apartment put him off. She lived in an old brick building populated mostly by pensioners and elderly drunks. The halls smelled of medicine, and behind doors he heard old people coughing. Mabel lived on the top floor, in a tiny studio apartment, which was all she could afford. She answered his knock instantly, her face puffy and tear-stained.
"Oh, Reverend, I'm so glad to see you," she said. "Come in."
Tom sat down on the sprung studio couch which also served as Mabel's lonely bed, and he almost shuddered as he surveyed the dim little room. Cheap color prints of Biblical scenes crowded the walls, along with yellowing Christmas cards, snapshots of Mabel and her countless brothers and sisters, and pictures of movie stars clipped from magazines (Elvis Presley appeared a dozen times). The furniture was cheap and overly cute, crowded with monogrammed cushions and giant stuffed animals. The room perfectly reflected Mabel's mentality confused, yearning, perpetually adolescent.
"Now, Mabel," he said, "tell me all about it. What's troubling you?"
Mabel flopped down next to him, making the couch bounce. She was a big girl, tall and rawboned and long-legged, designed for the farm work her grandparents had done, not for hunching over a typewriter in an office. She wrung her large well-shaped hands and said miserably, "Oh, Reverend, I've sinned so bad! I'm ashamed to tell you. I just wanta die!"
Tom sighed. It sounded like a line from a soap opera, which it probably was. "Well, now," he said, patting her hand, "you'll have to tell me, won't you? Otherwise I can't help you. Don't be afraid, Mabel. If it's a secret, it's safe with me."
She looked at him and blushed deep red. "Oh, my gawd," she said, "if anybody knew about this, I'd die. I really would. But I guess you're right, Reverend, I gotta tell you. II went all the way with a boy!" She burst into tears and hid her face in her hands.
Tom had to turn away for a moment to hide a stupid grin that came over his face. He knew the thing was very serious and tragic to Mabel, but to him it was amusing. At long last poor Mabel had given way to her natural instincts, and it was high time. If the poor girl got regularly laid, she wouldn't be subject to boredom and hysteria and all the other symptoms of the lonely single woman. But as a minister, he could hardly tell her this.
"Well, Mabel," he said soothingly, "worse things have happened. Did this, uh, boy force you?"
Mabel looked at him wide-eyed and guilt-stricken. "Oh, no," she said, "I done it on purpose. I just couldn't help myself. Reverend, will I go to Hell?"
Tom found himself seeing Mabel for the first time. Close to her like this, he couldn't help studying her. Her horsy features weren't really ugly, just a little unusual, and she had fine, big brown eyes, good teeth, healthy skin. Her figure was on the large, rangy side, but attractive, with good long legs, firm torso, and intriguing little tits that pointed stiffly out under her cotton dress. Her hair was her best feature, rich brown, healthy and thick, cascading nearly to her waist.
My God, he thought, Mabel Henry was actually a very sexy girl. He knew why so few people realized it, however her manner spoiled it all. She acted dumb, ignorant, foolish, and she put everybody off. If she could just learn to shut up ... Mabel leaned closer to him in her anxiety to hear his answer, and in the low-cut neck of her dress he saw her tits come together to form an enticing cleavage. Without warning, he found himself violently horny.
He wondered what Mabel would be like in bed, and he bet she'd be pretty hot stuff. She didn't have the intelligence to play games, she'd probably let go completely. That big warm body, those intriguing little pointed tits, that wild mane of rich hair all of it would be delicious to fondle and play with. He found himself urgently interested in how she would respond to lovemaking. He broke into a light sweat, and in the confining crotch of his pants he felt his cock stiffening.
"Mabel," he said, reaching out to clasp her hands, "you will not go to Hell. I assure you of that."
"Oh, thank gawd!" cried Mabel, falling into his arms. She slumped heavily against him in her relief, and her long arms went around his neck, hugging him gratefully. He felt her firm tits nudging his chest, felt the heat of her big body, her trembling. His lust doubled in that moment, and he slipped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He nuzzled her sweet-smelling hair, patted her, and the girl sighed.
"How old are you, Mabel?" he said softly.
"Twenty-three," she said. "I'll be twenty-four next month."
"And you never had a man before now?"
He could feel her hot blush, even though he didn't see it with his face buried in her hair.
"Oh, Reverend," she said haltingly, "I'm so ashamed. I gotta tell you the truth. I've had quite a few boys, ever since I was fourteen. It's a terrible thing, I know but II don't know what's wrong with me. When a boy touches me, I just can't help myself. I can't stop. What can I DO?"
Tom knew he should be counseling her, but her little recital of sins was making him wild with lust. She was just the kind of woman he was looking for, wild and natural and unrestrained. He wanted a woman who "couldn't help herself", a woman who melted at his touch. His voice became husky with desire. "Mabel, there's nothing wrong with you. You're a normal woman, that's all. There's nothing to be ashamed of about that."
"But I ain't married!" Mabel wailed. "Ain't it a sin to do it if you ain't married?"
Tom hesitated. As a minister it was his duty to encourage marriage, but how could that help this poor girl? She'd probably never marry so what was she supposed to do, bottle up all her needs, forget about sex? That was stupid and cruel. She shouldn't be denied the supreme pleasure of life just because she lacked brains and beauty.
"Mabel," he said, "times have changed. In these modern days, it's all right for a girl to have sex before marriage. Please don't worry about it."
She relaxed a little. "Well, if you say so. But what if I have a baby?"
"You don't have to," said Tom. "Go to Dr. Brown and tell him you don't want any babies. He'll show you how to prevent it."
"Oh, you mean c-contra" She couldn't pronounce the word. "Well, you know. But ain't that a sin, too?"
Tom sighed impatiently. The girl's ideas were positively medieval. "You think too much about sin," he said. "Why don't you just think about enjoying yourself instead?"
He could hardly control his horny trembling, nor did he feel any desire to quell his lust for her. He gently untwined her arms from around his neck and eased her back against the wall. While Mabel gawked at him, typically slow in her reactions, he unbuttoned the front of her dress and slipped the garment down to her waist.
Mabel gawked at herself, at the cheap white cotton bra that held her swollen little tits in tight restraint. Tom reached around her and unhooked the bra and drew it off. Mabel continued to stare as her olive-skinned tits sloped into their natural shape, elongated, silky and pointed. They really were damned nice boobs, Tom thought. The nipples were large and brown, and as he reached out to cup the soft melons of her tits, the nipples quivered and rubbed his palms. He squeezed her tits gently, and Mabel sighed.
"You have very pretty breasts," he said. "Do you like it when I touch them?" He fondled them with gentle pressure. "Does that feel good to you?"
Mabel's naturally thick eyelashes fluttered, and she quickly licked her lips. "Yeah," she said. "It feels nice." She swallowed hard, as if trying to form just the right words. "But, Reverend, why are you uh"
Tom spoke quickly, wanting to forestall her doubts and questions. "I'm trying to prove something to you, Mabel," he said authoritatively. "You say this feels good? Yes. Is it hurting you? No. Is it hurting me or anyone else?"
"No," said Mabel in total confusion.
"Then, if it feels good, and if it's not hurting anybody, how can it be a sin?" said Tom.
Mabel's mouth hung open, and she just stared at him. Tom saw that the little lecture was too complicated for her, that he'd only confused her. Perhaps it was best to dispense with words. He eased her long legs onto his lap, slipped his arm around her bare silky back, drawing her close to him, and then he bent and sucked one of her big brown nipples into his mouth. He began to suck it and also to tickle and circle the quivering nipple with his tongue. Mabel went rigid with surprise for a moment, and then he felt her hands tightly clutching his shoulders. Her body heat rose, she quivered helplessly, and her breathing became erratic.
"Oh, sweet Jesus," she moaned. "Oh, my gawd, that feels good...."
She sat there in his lap, kneading his shoulders with her strong fingers, and moaned steadily and softly as he sucked her sweet little tit. He felt supremely happy. Mabel was just the girl for him no debate, no arguments, no prolonged seduction. She simply didn't have the wit to deny the powerful urges of her body, and all her moral scruples, all the crap she'd been taught in Sunday school, vanished when a man caressed her body. He was going to have no trouble here, no trouble at all.
For a moment he visualized the scene as an outsider might see it: The town's most respected minister seducing a poor half-wit girl, purposely taking advantage of her ignorance, using his position as a man of God to indulge his sexual appetite. Pretty disgusting, Tom agreed, and grounds for firing him. He didn't care, he simply didn't give a shit. He saw no point to life but pleasure, the pleasure of the moment. All his dedicated years in the ministry hadn't done anyone a particle of good; the world was unchanged; so why not start to live just for himself? He wanted Mabel Henry, and, by God, he was going to have her.
He had sucked her big brown nipple into stiff erection, and he transferred his wet mouth to the other nipple, sucking it in strongly, teasing it with his tongue. Mabel groaned hoarsely and dug her nails even harder into his shoulders.
"Aw, awww ... " she moaned.
She began to rock in his lap, and suddenly he felt hot liquid soaking through his pants. The girl was creaming heavily, and this delighted him. He knew she was lost, that he could do anything with her. Her nipple went rigid and hot in his mouth, and he spat it out and gently untangled Mabel from their embrace. Her brown eyes were wide and glassy, her mouth hanging open, her healthy skin flushed with arousal. She didn't seem to have a thought in her head but sex, which was exactly how he wanted it.
He smiled at her. "I'm going to take the rest of your clothes off now, Mabel," he said firmly. "I want to show you something else."
Mabel nodded dumbly. He was the voice of authority, and she had always obeyed authority without question. He laid her down on the studio couch and proceeded to remove her dress, shoes, stockings and panties. As he lowered her cheap cotton panties down over her gently rounded belly, he encountered thick dark pubic curls right below her navel. He pulled her panties down the rest of the way and saw that she had a very large cunt bush, the biggest he'd ever seen, a veritable jungle of soft, springy black hairs. It excited him to run his hand over it, but Mabel flushed and closed her eyes.
"I got so much there," she said timidly. "My sisters used to tease me about it."
"It's beautiful," said Tom.
He buried his face in the warm fragrant cunt bush, but Mabel cringed and put her hands over her face. She wasn't used to being admired; it embarrassed her. Tom knew he had to conquer her self-consciousness, and he thought he knew a good way to do that. He separated her long legs and plunged his flushed face down into her steamy cunt. She was a big girl, even there. Her clit was long and red and thick, almost like a miniature cock, and her pink cunt lips were plump and pendulous. Her cunt mouth seemed wide and gaping to him.
But her very size and coarseness excited him, especially when he discovered how wet she was. His face was soaked at once with her steamy juices, and her swollen cuntal flesh seemed to burn him. He pried apart the plump, furry lips of her pussy and isolated the stiff shaft of her bright-red clit. It twitched before his eyes, hungry for stimulation. He stuck out his tongue and began to swish it rapidly all around the burning clitoral shaft, and Mabel gave a hoarse screech of pleasure.
"Oh, Lordy," she wailed, "that feels so good! I never felt nothin' so good before!"
So no one had ever tongued her clit. It didn't surprise him. The kind of boys she went with never gave head. It was beneath their masculine dignity, against their code of machismo, to try to please a woman with foreplay. It was just fuck and roll off. This gave Tom an immense advantage, because if Mabel liked plain old fucking, then a little cunt-eating ought to drive her wild.
He lashed and tickled and rimmed her red-hot clit till she was moaning so loud that he feared the neighbors would hear. He knew Mabel wasn't thinking about that, though. Her limited mind could concentrate on only one thing at a time, and all she knew right now was the incredible pleasure he was giving her. That was good, that was just what he wanted.
He slid his tongue down into the steamy wet folds of her cunt lips, and instantly he was greeted with a burst of juice that soaked his face. Her cunt cream was strong and salty, powerfully fragrant, exciting him to more vigorous licking and sucking. In the dark thatch of her cunt fur he couldn't see very well, but he explored around with his tongue Mabel howling and squealing the whole time till at last he located the wide gushing hole of her cunt mouth. He jammed his tongue up into it, and Mabel gasped, breathless from pleasure.
She'd had quite a few boys, all right: Her cunt was wide and receptive, hot as a furnace, flooded with her helpless creaming. He penetrated her easily, his thick tongue sliding in all the way to the root. He began to tickle her slick cuntal lining, and he heard her gasp again, felt her arch and stiffen her big body. Her silky cunt began the powerful convulsions of orgasm.
Tom quickly jerked his head out of her trembling cunt, cutting off her climax He didn't want to satisfy her so soon, wanted to keep her hot and eager for him. Mabel moaned and twisted in frustration, but, being Mabel, she didn't know how to express her needs. She only looked up at him with wide, dazed eyes, mutely pleading. Tom smiled at her and began to remove his clothes.
Mabel was not bright, but that didn't mean her mind was blank. As she watched the Reverend Thomas White stripping in front of her, she recalled one of her more frequent fantasies, one of her favorites. Mabel went to church faithfully every Sunday, partly because her parents had taught her to do so, partly because she wanted to be "good", but mostly to look at Reverend White. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen, and often she didn't hear a word of his sermon, sang the hymns without hearing her own voice, because she was totally wrapped up in looking at him.
It was like at the movies when she watched Elvis, or like watching some really sexy guy on TV she forgot the plot and began to daydream about the man. She would dream that she was beautiful, that the man couldn't leave her alone, that he pursued her until suddenly they were making love. At that part of her fantasy, Mabel would begin to tremble with horniness and her face would flush. She just loved those daydreams; they were so exciting and Reverend White excited her more than anyone else.
The weird thing was, it was actually happening. I Mabel could hardly believe it, but it looked as if Reverend White was going to make love to her. It I was beyond her to figure out why or to wonder if it was right or wrong. She just gawked at him as he undressed. Another weird thing was that he didn't seem like a minister any more. When he removed his black suit and his special turned-around collar, he was just an ordinary man. That made it easier, because she was in awe of Reverend White. When she saw his broad naked shoulders and the mat of silver hair on his big chest, he was just a man, and she felt comfortable with him. But when he tugged down his shorts and she started to glimpse the thick pole of his cock, she blushed furiously and closed her eyes. She knew it wasn't nice to look.
Tom was amused. He tossed away the last of his clothes and crawled over Mabel's big rangy body, straddling her chest. He knelt there, his semirigid cock hanging heavily just inches from her face, and he said commandingly, "Mabel, open your eyes."
She did so instantly, an obedient girl, but when she caught sight of his big dangling prick, she blushed deeper than ever.
"Don't close your eyes again," said Tom. "It's all right to look. I want you to touch it, Mabel. Pet it."
The girl gawked at him, and he smiled encouragingly, seized her big hand, and placed it on his warm cock.
Mabel continued to gawk, and so Tom moved her hand gently up and down his silky prick. Mabel had never touched a cock before it wasn't a nice thing to do and so she was surprised and pleased to discover how silky and warm the skin was.
Tom let go of her hand, and she continued to pet the huge pale sausage. It rose gently and slowly to her touch, the shaft swelling and stiffening, the head going a dark purple and getting very fat. She thought it was ugly, but at the same time it excited her. From the moment he'd started playing with her tits, she'd been able to think of only one thing, having his cock inside her, being fucked till she found blissful release in orgasm. That was all she could think of now. She had to have it, she just had to....
Tom nodded approvingly as Mabel timidly petted his stiffening cock, and he reached behind him, fumbling through the thick fur of her belly till his fingers slipped into the slick hot flesh of her cunt. He inserted a finger in her drooling cunt mouth and began to pump stiffly. Mabel blushed hotly not with embarrassment this time, but with urgent lust. She moaned, her eyes fluttered, and she began to move her broad hips in time to the fucking motions of his probing finger. Her cunt cream gushed hot and abundant around his finger, and her hand moved faster on his stiff warm dick. She hoped so much that he'd do it to her. She'd die if he didn't
Tom felt her cream boiling hotly, helplessly, around his jerking finger, and he knew she was ready. He smiled and drew away from her, lying down beside her on the narrow couch, his big swollen cock standing straight up, waving heavily and lewdly. Mabel eyed it hungrily but seemed uncertain what to do.
"Come here, Mabel," said Tom. "Get on top of me."
Mabel didn't understand. In her world, there was only one accepted way of making love, with the man on top. She didn't like this new development, regarding it as somehow wicked. Nevertheless she did not dare defy a minister, so she clumsily crawled on top of him, pressing her long, melon-shaped tits against the tickly hairs of his chest. "No, Mabel," he said, "sit up."
She obeyed, completely puzzled, straddling his hips and resting on her knees. His huge white cock waved lazily, stiffly, in front of her, grazing her belly fur, and as she eyed it longingly, he said, "Now, Mabel, you know what to do with it."
Suddenly her mind connected, she understood. It seemed like a weird way to do it, but her lust was so great by now that she was willing to try. Raising herself a little, she seized his thick hot cock and clumsily stuffed it between her legs. She was so moist and slick that the fat purple cockhead glided right to her gaping cunt mouth and slipped smoothly into her.
Mabel felt it pushing thickly up her eager cunt, stuffing her deliriously, till his coarse-haired balls were resting snugly between her thighs. It felt so good that she almost fainted with pleasure, and she couldn't restrain a high, shrill, prolonged cry of ecstasy as her cunt was filled with his thick hot cock.
"Now, Mabel," he said, "fuck me. You do the work."
Mabel thought that was really strange, but she understood. She began to work her cunt up and down on the rigid pole of his cock, and after just a few seconds she didn't care if it was weird. It felt great, it was just what she needed, and she was quickly lost in the intense pleasure of it. She needed that hot friction, that tight stuffing, and her natural instincts made her slam her hot, dripping cunt ever faster around his hard, impaling cock. She let herself go completely, closing her eyes, working her hot little cunt like crazy.
Tom lay back with his arms folded behind his head, not moving a muscle, letting the horny girl fuck him. It was a delicious moment for him, right out of his horny fantasies. In this position he could watch, he could glory in all her reactions. He watched her hairy cunt zipping up and down his shining prick, leaving it wet and glistening with her steady cream. He watched her pretty, melon-shaped tits bouncing up and down with her hard movements, jiggling and swaying deliriously. He watched every abandoned expression of her face the crazily rolling eyes, the flared nostrils, the lolling, licking tongue.
The noises of their fucking excited him, too. Her flooding cream and the exceptional thickness of his cock made their movements squishy and wet, a loud sucking sound, and there was the gentle but steady slap-slap of her bouncing tits against her chest. Above all there were her cries, sometimes shrill and sometimes gurgling and husky, abandoned cries beyond intelligible speech. In the frenzy of her fucking, this woman knew no restraints, no shame. She was like him, just wanting to get off, blind to everything else.
He enjoyed this observation of Mabel, but at the same time he was drifting into dizzy pleasure as her wide, wet cunt grew ever hotter around him. He would have enjoyed a tighter fit, but she made up for it with her intense heat, her heavy juice, her violent fucking. It wasn't long before she began to come, and in her excitement she lost control of her bladder, a thin yellow stream trickling onto his belly. He found that this excited him more than anything else, though it embarrassed Mabel.
When her howling climax was over, she stared at him and blushed. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry" she began.
Tom grinned at her. "Don't be. I dig it. Let's just have fun, Mabel."
He seized her and pulled her down on top of him, grasping her wide, wiggling ass and holding her tight against him as he began to fuck her with all his strength, hard and merciless.
Mabel went wild in his arms, biting and clawing and shrieking her pleasure as he fucked her into a violent string of orgasms. His loins were drenched with her cunt cream before he finally allowed himself to shoot his load of cum into her squirming cunt.
There was nothing to say after that. They had nothing in common but their lust, and that was satisfied. He knew she'd never tell what had happened, because she'd be too ashamed to admit her seduction. Mabel Henry would just go on sitting in church every week, staring hungrily at him, hoping that someday he might favor her again. And perhaps he would. He saw no reason to deny himself. Every other goal of his life had proved false and empty, and only one thing remained real and true the pleasures of the flesh. He resolved never to deny himself those pleasures again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Karen wished that her big brutish lover Tony would come back, but he didn't, probably afraid of another encounter with her husband. That left her only seventeen-year-old Brent, and he seemed dull and inexpert compared to Tony. Still she didn't break off with him. Brent was certainly better than no lover at all.
On Wednesday evening, when Tom had a regular meeting at his office, Brent arrived as usual, but this time Karen had assumed no provocative pose for him. She sat in bed, sipping a drink, and eyed him rather listlessly as he came through the window.
Brent didn't notice her lack of enthusiasm. His eyes were immediately drawn to the enticing cleavage of her big tits in her low-cut nightgown. He felt instant excitement at the thought of playing with those fantastic tits of hers and, as always, he pitied his less fortunate friends who had to date the hard-to-get Oakville schoolgirls. He'd really lucked out in finding Karen.
Brent grinned at her and began to remove his clothes. Idly Karen studied his perfect young body, the sleek, well-defined muscles, the healthy tan, the pale flash of his growing cock as he stepped toward the bed. He was a lovely specimen, all right, but he just didn't arouse her much any more. The same thing had happened with her husband. She knew Tom was a very attractive man, but familiarity had cooled her passion for him. Vaguely she realized that there might be something wrong with her, that it wasn't normal to tire of men so quickly or to have this constant need for variety. It didn't bother her much, though. The liquor and the pills dulled her mind and clouded over her worries.
As Brent approached the bed, she absently turned back the covers and made room for him. Really, she told herself, it didn't matter who he was, as long as he had a cock and knew how to use it.
Brent, still unaware of her diminishing interest in him, bounced happily onto the bed beside her and clumsily embraced her. The very touch of her voluptuously curved body aroused him sharply. He felt her warmth, smelled her delicate, expensive perfume, and he wanted to fuck her instantly. He knew Karen didn't like that, that she wanted to be entertained with foreplay first, but tonight he simply couldn't wait. He seized the hem of her nightgown and roughly pulled it up, over her shapely legs, the little golden puff of her cunt, her soft, pale belly, and finally, with some difficulty, over the creamy, heaving mounds of her tits.
He threw himself on her body and wriggled happily against her, his rampant young cock jerking against her loins as he sought to maneuver it into the hot slick tissues of her cunt. In his puppy like joy, he nuzzled and kissed her smooth face and began to pant uninhibitedly as he thought of sinking his ready cock into the blazing, wet sheath of her cunt.
"I want you," he sighed. "Oh, wow, do I want you!"
To his complete surprise, Karen pushed him away. He went sprawling onto his back and gawked at her. She calmly reached for her drink and took a long swallow before speaking to him.
"If that's all you want, Brent," she said wearily, "you might as well stay home and jerk off. For my part, I want a lot more than that. After all, I've been doing it with my husband for twenty years, and if just doing it was enough, you wouldn't be here."
Brent hung his head, partly because he felt stupid and partly to conceal his impatience. Yes, he knew she liked to play all those kinky games before they actually fucked, but he could have dispensed with all that. He had the urgent and impetuous need of the adolescent boy, just wanting to get his rocks off as fast as he could. Sometimes Karen drove him wild, the way she delayed things. Still he didn't want to lose her. He didn't know any other female in town who'd go to bed with him. So he said meekly, "I'm sorry, I forgot. I just wanted you so much...."
Karen sighed and reached out to tousle his thick hair. "Okay, kiddo," she laughed, "you'll have me, but let's have a little fun first, okay?"
Fun? What could possibly be more fun, Brent wondered, than fucking? But if he wanted this gorgeous older woman, he'd have to play it her way.
"Okay," he said, forcing a smile. "What do you want to do, Karen?"
She sat up and pulled the nightgown off over her head. When Brent saw her huge pointed tits wobbling, the pink nipples bouncing back and forth like saucy eyes, he again experienced the wild urge to throw himself on her and just fuck her, whether she liked it or not. It was all he could do to hold himself back. Karen smiled at him and said, "I played with you last time. Now I'll show you how to play with me."
Brent was not enthused. It was just a waste of time, as far as he was concerned. But he wanted to please her, so he listened and watched attentively. Karen lay down comfortably on her back and spread her legs quite wide, drawing them up till her knees almost touched her big sloping tits. The posture was obscene, but somehow Karen made it seem graceful and natural. Brent goggled at her moist, scarlet cunt with its fringe of golden hairs.
"Just play with me," she said, a husky note of lust creeping into her voice. "Explore me."
Brent forgot his impatience for the moment, since he'd never had such an opportunity before. He'd made love to Karen quite a few times, but she'd never allowed him this privilege, an unhurried examination of her mysterious female parts.
Brent crawled between her legs and lay down on his belly, getting comfortable for his exploration. Women sure as hell looked funny, he decided. The absence of cock and balls was weird enough, but he couldn't figure out the function of all those intricate folds of blushing red flesh. The only familiar sight was her ass-hole, tight and brown and wrinkled just like his. The rest was a mystery to him.
Growing more and more interested, he reached out and parted the fluffy blonde lips of her cunt, just to see what they concealed, and he discovered a tiny red finger of flesh that undulated and moistened before his eyes. He reached for it and touched it gently with the tip of his finger, and Karen sighed.
"What's this?" he said. "Is that where girls pee?"
She laughed. "No, that's farther down. What you're touching now is called the clitoris or clit. It's just for pleasure. A woman loves to be touched there. If you ever want to turn a girl on, Brent, touch her clit but gently. Always gently."
In this way she showed the ignorant boy how to arouse a woman. She showed him how to circle and tickle the highly sensitive bud of her clit with the tip of his finger, till it grew wet with her juices, till it went into a stiff little erection just like a cock.
Brent was fascinated. He'd never heard of such an organ before, and he felt he'd captured some powerful and useful knowledge tonight. Certainly he could see that it worked with Karen. As she went on instructing him, her voice got more and more raspy, and her whole gleaming red cunt swelled up before his eyes and got very wet. When he touched her just right, with delicate flicks of his finger, she moaned and jerked her hips in horny response. This one tiny button was capable of bringing her to sharp arousal.
But his touch alone wasn't enough for Karen. When her bright-red clit was stiff and throbbing under his finger, she whispered huskily, "There's something a woman-likes even better than that, Brent. Use your tongue on it. Lick me there."
Brent thought that was pretty far out, and he wasn't wild about the idea but he remembered their last encounter and how Karen had willingly taken his prick in her mouth and sucked on it, how incredibly good it had felt. He supposed his mouth would feel just as good to her, and it was only fair that he return the favor. He wriggled up farther between her silky legs, held apart the plump, furry lips of her cunt, and stuck out his tongue. He applied the rough wet tip to her creamy little clit and began to lick it gently.
Karen gasped, then moaned, a prolonged, hoarse sound that he had come to identify with her deepest pleasure. Her hands reached out, her fingers curled passionately in his hair, and she stroked him there while he licked her.
"Yes, darling," she panted, "yes ... that's wonderful! I love that!"
Brent was delighted to discover how she melted with lust when he tongued her clit. He could use this knowledge with other girls. He grew bolder and licked her faster, and the steamy cream poured from her cunt to wet his chin and cheeks. He began to enjoy the fragrance of her hot cunt, the light, salty taste of her juices. He watched with fascination as her little red bud grew plumper and stiffer under the circling and lapping motions of his tongue. He thought surely she couldn't become more aroused than she already was, she couldn't want more than this, but suddenly she gasped, "Suck it, Brent ... suck my clit!"
Well, she had sucked his cock. It was only fair. He planted his mouth on the hot, throbbing little bud and began to suck it, and Karen moaned deeply. A hot gush of cream poured from her quaking cunt to soak his chin. She seemed very close to coming whining, twisting her fingers roughly in his hair, jerking her steamy pussy up to meet his face.
"Oh, God," she whimpered, "so good...."
She was very close to coming, but she held herself back, determined to get maximum pleasure out of this boy. She knew she was using him, even torturing him he'd been ready to fuck fifteen minutes ago and was probably very impatient with the delay. She didn't care. Basically, she thought, men were all alike, handsome bodies to be used for her pleasure. After all, if she didn't use them, they'd use her. Brent was damned lucky to be getting fucked regularly and well, a privilege denied to most teenage boys, and she was going to make him pay for the privilege.
She sighed and panted to his busy clit-sucking, but after a while she said, "That's lovely, darling, but now I want to teach you something else. There are other ways to arouse women, other things they like. I want to teach you all of them."
Brent was annoyed. It was almost like being in school, the lesson going on and on when he was eager to do something else. But he knew Karen all too well. She was stubborn, she insisted on having her way; and if he did it her way, she would reward him. He listened patiently while she showed him how to caress and lick her plump pink cunt lips, getting his stiff tongue tip into every intricate, wet fold. She told him how to use his tongue on her furiously creaming cunt rimming it, mischievously tickling and probing the gasping cunt mouth, and finally forcing his tongue deep inside, sawing and jerking it like a miniature cock.
He'd heard other boys talk about cunt-eating, and the idea hadn't attracted him too much, but in practice it was pretty exciting. He liked exploring her slick, tight cunt that way, but most of all he liked the power it gave him. He was capable of sending any woman into squealing spasms of joy, just by using his tongue in the right places. It excited him to think of how he might use that knowledge in the future.
His face was soaked and sticky with her cream by the time she breathlessly requested him to withdraw from her flooded cunt, and he thought surely that now they would fuck, that she wouldn't be able to wait any longer. But he reckoned without Karen's insatiable need for kinky foreplay. She tugged wildly at his hair, jerked her red-hot cunt eagerly toward his wet face, and said hoarsely, "Now my ass-hole, Brent. Do it to me there!"
He just about walked out when she said that. Really, it was going too far. His young cock ached to be inside her, and playing with her little brown ass-hole was out of his league. He hesitated, and Karen sensed that her idea turned him off. She let go of his hair and quickly wriggled away from him, crawling around to face his tight, muscled ass-cheeks.
"Just feel this," she said breathlessly. "Feel how good it is."
Brent didn't know what she was up to, but suddenly he felt a stinging pleasure, sharper than he'd ever experienced before, as Karen dug the stiff tip of her hot little tongue into the clenched mouth of his ass-hole. It took him by surprise, this sudden dizzy pleasure, and with a loud moan he spread his legs to allow her in. He felt her expert little tongue snaking up his ass, and the pleasure was so intense that he almost shot his load, his stiff young cock twitching excitedly against the sheet.
He whimpered and jerked his hips as her hot, slick tongue penetrated his bowels. She was thrusting it in as deep as she could, licking, reaming ... He shuddered blissfully, but she withdrew as quickly as she'd entered. Dizzily he opened his eyes and found her lying beside him, her round white ass in the air. She grinned at him and said, "See? Not so bad, was it?"
There was only one thing he could do, and that was to return the favor. Gingerly he crawled behind her, spread her soft white ass-cheeks, and eyed the little wrinkled mouth of her ass-hole. He still wasn't too wild about licking her there, but he felt he had to. She must know the sharp pleasure she'd given him, and it was only fair to return it.
He placed the rough tip of his tongue on the brown, clenched mouth, and as he did so, Karen shivered happily and he saw the tight anal mouth opening, the muscles relaxing, to admit his tongue. He closed his eyes and thrust into her.
The hole was tight, incredibly tight, and very hot. It was not repugnant to taste her. It was kind of exciting, getting into such a tight, slick passage. Most exciting of all, however, was Karen's reaction. She wailed with pleasure as his tongue snaked into her hot ass-hole, and he felt her sticky cunt juice flooding out to soak his chin. He began to use his tongue like a cock, jerking and reaming in her tight ass-hole, determined to give her as much pleasure as she'd given him.
Karen whined and clawed the sheets in her frenzy. There was no pleasure to surpass having your ass tongued and reamed, she decided. She tried to imagine her prim, respectable husband doing something like this, and she almost laughed aloud. No, she could never expect Tom to give her the kind of wild, wicked pleasure she craved. She only regretted that she hadn't been unfaithful to him sooner. She'd denied herself years of fun ... but she was going to make up for it now.
"Yes, Brent," she whimpered, "suck my ass! Oh, darling, I love that! Don't stop...."
Brent got a kick out of the scene, and he wished he could tell his friends about it, but of course they'd never believe him. They'd never believe that the cool, blonde wife of the town's leading minister had allowed him to stick his tongue up her ass, that she'd actually begged for it. Too bad. It would have made a great anecdote. It was so fantastic that he hardly believed it himself.
Karen was again very close to coming, but she wanted to milk the occasion for all it was worth, to get maximum kicks out of it. Plain old fucking just wouldn't do, not when she had the boy so aroused. She permitted his hot, swift tongue-fucking a moment longer, writhing with joy as he reamed her tight little ass-hole, and then she mischievously pulled away from him and leaped off the bed, her big white tits bouncing heavily.
The boy stared at her, and Karen grinned wickedly at him. She knew she must look like a complete slut she even felt her hot cunt juices trickling down her thighs but she didn't care. Tonight she was going to have the wildest fun possible, and to hell with tomorrow.
She seized a chair and dragged it over in front of the full-length mirror. She sat down in the chair and brazenly threw her long legs up over the arms, exposing her red, wet cunt lewdly. She saw the boy eyeing it hungrily, and she tortured him a few moments longer before she finally said in a husky, horny voice, "Fuck me, Brent. Come here and fuck me.
Brent almost stumbled in his eagerness to get to her. Normally a graceful, athletic boy, he was now trembling and tripping with lust. He couldn't take his eyes off Karen, sprawled lewdly in the chair, her legs widely parted, her gleaming wet cunt boldly displayed. It was like all his horny fantasies come true a gorgeous older woman with tremendous boobs wickedly inviting him to fuck her. He saw how her eyes focused on his erect cock, and he felt it hugging his belly, achingly stiff, as he approached her. He got onto his knees, in the semicircle of her outstretched legs, and seized his painfully swollen young cock, forcing the dripping head into her hot, flooded cunt.
He was about to push into her when Karen said wickedly, "Look, Brent. Look in the mirror."
He looked, and he saw himself, a gangling adolescent boy, inserting his rigid dick into the hair-fringed cunt of a beautiful older woman. It blew his mind. He grinned at Karen's reflected face, and she grinned back, then licked her lips in lewd invitation.
He felt dizzily horny as he slowly pushed his cock into her, and he watched in the mirror as his thick, white cock slowly disappeared up her steamy cunt. He noticed that Karen was watching, too, and that she seemed even more wickedly excited than he was, her eyes feverish and glowing. She went on watching, but Brent just couldn't. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the ecstasy of having his hungry cock enveloped in her blazing cunt. He began to fuck her, and he couldn't hold back, yelping with joy as he balled her furiously.
Karen watched the whole thing in the mirror. She saw his cock slamming swiftly in and out of her cunt, saw her own eager juices squirting out onto his taut young belly, saw his flushed straining face. She studied herself, the lewd grin, the glowing eyes, the helpless pumping of her hips in time to his quick strokes. She managed to keep her eyes open even when she came, and she saw the powerful rippling contractions of her pelvis as the orgasm swept over her.
Brent came shortly afterward, and she watched his furiously jerking hips as he jetted his cum into her. It was very exciting for her to watch, and yet afterward she felt curiously unfulfilled. She realized, almost with panic, that even this lewd scene wasn't sufficient to quell her lust. Already she was thinking of greater, more wicked things to do.
Brent sighed and fell back, sitting on the rug, his limp cock slipping from her flooded cunt, gleaming and dripping with her juices. He shook his head and laughed. "Oh, man, that was out of sight...."
But his breathless speech was interrupted by a sudden howl. It came from just outside the window, a mournful, steady wailing. "My God," said Karen, jumping up, "what's that?" Brent blushed. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. It's my dog." She gawked at him. "Your DOG? You brought your dog with you?"
"Well, he followed me," Brent said, hanging his head. "I just didn't have the heart to send him home."
"Oh, Christ," Karen said contemptuously, "why didn't you bring your Teddy bear, too?" She stamped to the window and looked out. "He's right in our back yard, and he's going to wake the whole neighborhood. Do something, Brent, and do it NOW!"
Brent was already stumbling into his jeans. He didn't want to make Karen angry. He slipped quickly out the window and down the trellis, gathered the howling dog into his arms, and managed to carry him up to Karen's room. The dog settled down at once, since he'd only wanted to be with his master.
Karen eyed the dog disgustedly. He was a German shepherd, a sleek, healthy animal, and all right; she supposed, if you liked dogs. She happened to dislike them intensely. They were smelly, messy, noisy. She didn't want this one in her room, but it was better than calling the attention of the whole neighborhood to her window.
She lit a cigarette and said ruefully, "What's his name?"
"Prince," said Brent, blushing again.
"It figures," said Karen, flopping onto the bed.
Prince wagged his luxuriant tail and leaped up onto the bed beside her. Karen frowned and started to push him away, but the big dog, attracted by her strong sexual odors, sniffed the air sharply and found his way to her crotch. While Brent stared in horror, the dog began to lick between her legs.
"Prince, no!" he shouted, hurrying toward the bed.
To his astonishment, Karen held out her hand, motioning him to stay away. "Wait," she said.
She had a strange look on her face. She was watching the German shepherd as he licked busily between her legs, and her lovely face grew flushed and hot. Her eyes glazed, then glowed, and a lewd little smile twisted her full lips. As Brent watched wonderingly, she sighed and lay back limp on the bed, letting her legs fall open. She made a horny gurgling noise in her throat.
"Jesus," she gasped, "it feels great!"
Brent saw the big dog's long, red, wet tongue lapping briskly over Karen's scarlet cunt, saw Karen grinning and enjoying it. She had to be crazy, the boy decided suddenly, she just had to be. The other kinky things they'd done were at least done between human beings but to enjoy it with a dog....
Brent felt a kind of horror stealing over him, a deep disgust for this insatiable woman, and yet he couldn't look away. Quietly he walked around the bed and lay down on the other side where he could watch.
Prince seemed to be having a fine old time. His tail wagged briskly, he panted and sniffed eagerly, and his lolling red tongue lapped hungrily over Karen's fragrant cunt, over all the places Brent had just touched and licked her twitching little clit, her pink cunt lips, the creaming mouth of her pussy.
The dog obviously liked her taste, and this didn't surprise Brent. What surprised him was to see the dignified, cool, minister's wife grinning obscenely as the dog licked her cunt. She glanced at Brent and grinned even wider.
"This is fantastic," she said. "It's better than having a man do it."
Brent said nothing. He was frankly shocked, a rare experience for him. He belonged to a liberated generation, an age willing to experiment, willing to allow others to think and behave as they liked. He thought nothing of people living together without marriage, even living in communal groups but this scene boggled his mind. He realized with horror that there was nothing Karen wouldn't do for thrills, and it confirmed his thought that she was really a sick chick, not right in the head. Still he couldn't speak, couldn't tear his eyes away from the crazy scene on the bed beside him. He wondered just how far she'd go with the dog.
Karen hadn't even had time to be annoyed when the big dog started licking her cunt. The very first touch of his rough tongue had been keenly pleasurable, for his canine tongue was bigger, hotter, better than any human tongue. She didn't give a damn what Brent thought she was going to enjoy this unexpected event. She lay back limp and willing, opened her legs for the dog, and let him lick wherever he wanted. It felt fantastically good, his rough, hot tongue on her sensitive clit, her swollen pussy lips, the creaming mouth of her cunt. She wanted it to go on and on.
The eager dog whimpered with excitement as he tongued her, and she supposed it was the smell of sex that drove him on. He lapped up all her sticky cunt juices with his long red tongue, snaking the rough tip into every moist cranny and fold, making her shiver and sigh with pleasure. When he could find no more of her fragrant juice, he thrust his tongue around hungrily, seeking more, until at last he located the dripping, hair-fringed mouth of her cunt. He sniffed sharply at it, then wormed his big thick tongue into the hot creamy passage, and Karen squealed with joy and threw her legs open as wide as she could. His tongue was much thicker and longer than Brent's, and as it snaked deeply into her cunt, she couldn't help her shrill cries.
"Oh, Christ," she wailed, "that feels terrific! Oh, ohhhhhh...."
Brent's eyes widened in shock as he watched his pet thrusting his long red tongue up Karen's furiously creaming cunt. It just wasn't right. It seemed like a filthy thing. He wanted to drag the dog away, to get out of this woman's house, but he knew Karen would be furious if he interrupted her pleasure. And besides, it was fascinating to watch. He couldn't imagine what kind of crazy kicks she got out of it, but it was obvious that she was enjoying it wildly.
She threw her long legs as far apart as they'd go, and she slammed her moist cunt up to meet the dog's tongue thrusts, her cries shrill and abandoned. Her cream poured out to wet Prince's gleaming nose, and the excited dog responded by thrusting his tongue as deeply as he could into her wet, tight hole, making her gurgle blissfully. Brent heard the lewd slurping noise as Prince hungrily reamed her cunt of all its juices. Then to Karen's disappointment, the dog withdrew his long tongue and stood waiting, wagging his tail expectantly, as if he wanted something else from her.
She sighed deeply. "Christ, I wish I could get him to do that again!" She sat up and began to pet the dog, running her hands over his big, muscular body. Suddenly she stopped and looked amazed. "Good Lord, Brent," she said, "this dog has a hard-on!"
Brent looked, and sure enough, from Prince's furry belly his long canine cock waved heavily in full erection, gleaming and swollen. Brent was acutely embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should never have brought him inside. When he gets ... well, horny ... he just doesn't know how to behave himself. I'd better take him home." He looked shame-facedly at Karen. "I guess I've wrecked your evening. I'm really sorry."
Karen smiled mysteriously at him. "You haven't wrecked my evening," she said. "In fact, I think you've made it. Just sit back, Brent, and don't interfere unless I tell you to. I want to find out something."
Brent obeyed, and he found that his disgust was slowly changing into lurid interest. Karen had a lot of crazy ideas, for sure, but they never failed to be amusing. He settled back to watch. Karen stroked the big dog gently, being careful not to alarm him, and slowly she worked her hands around to his furry underbelly, till she was touching his erect canine cock. She held it wonderingly, and Brent saw her lick her lips.
"My God," she said softly, "it's huge."
Brent hadn't really noticed it before, but she was right. Prince's heavy cock was much longer and thicker than a man's. It surged and twitched in Karen's warm grasp, a monstrous wet thing that seemed almost menacing in its power. Karen's breathing quickened, and Brent knew that she was getting one of her kinky ideas again. He felt his own excitement mounting as he wondered what it was.
Karen held the dog's great cock in her hands, and she wondered if all those stories were true, about women fucking with dogs. She'd heard a few men tell of brothels in Paris where it was done, but she hadn't believed it. Now she thought, Why not? It was physically possible, if you could get the animal to cooperate.
Hot excitement boiled in her loins, and she felt her cunt growing wet and hungry. She was a little surprised at herself. Did she really want to try it with an animal? In the unashamed honesty of her drunkenness, she knew that she did.
A few years ago she would have been shocked speechless to imagine herself doing such a thing, but, then, a few years ago she didn't drink and she wasn't on drugs. Now she was daring, wild to experiment, and she didn't give a damn what anyone thought about it. It was her life, and she was going to live it to the full.
She made a sudden decision, then let go of Prince's fat, moist prick and rolled over onto her hands and knees, raising her white ass high in the air. She tried to adopt the posture of a bitch in heat, but the dog was confused and didn't respond. He whined plaintively, wagging his tail and shivering, obviously aroused but he didn't know what to do with this human female of the exciting smells.
"Brent," said Karen urgently, "help him mount me. Show him what to do."
Brent gawked at her. This was too much, he just couldn't believe it. "You mean," he stammered, "you want him to ball you?"
"Yes," Karen said impatiently. "Hurry. Show him."
Brent hesitated. He didn't really want to be a part of this, but he also feared to lose Karen. Finally he moved, praying the dog wouldn't hurt her. That gigantic gleaming cock seemed much too large for a woman. He would have told her so, but he knew she had her mind made up and that she wouldn't rest till she'd tried this bizarre experiment.
He lifted the big furry dog and guided him onto Karen's trembling back. Prince was resistant and awkward at first, but suddenly he understood. Wriggling impatiently from Brent's arms, he wrapped his furry forelegs around Karen's body and, resting on his hind legs, began to jab his enormous dog-cock into the tender red tissues of her cunt. Brent drew back and watched, bug-eyed, as the big dog eagerly tried to fuck her.
Karen felt a little shudder of fear as Prince mounted. The dog was bigger than she'd expected, heavier, and she thought she might smother under his shaggy weight. She managed to maintain her kneeling position, however, and she trembled as she felt the sharp head of his huge cock butting blindly in her tender cunt. He had the idea now but did she really want to go through with it? His great canine cock felt bigger, harder than before.
She had no time to change her mind. Prince gave a piercing howl of excitement as his thick, swollen cock suddenly slipped into her slick little cunt mouth, and the powerful dog summoned all his strength to push deep into her, to keep her pinned and penetrated.
Karen gasped loudly as she felt her cunt stretched and gigantically stuffed. For a moment she was terrified, but as she felt the thick dog-cock plunging without harm deep into her belly, butting her cunt walls, she realized that it was going to be good, incredibly good. Never would she find a human cock so thick and long and powerful. She had long craved this kind of brutal stuffing, this thick and heavy occupation of her ever-hungry cunt.
Prince whined blissfully and began to fuck her in strokes deeper, faster, harder than any man could match. She creamed furiously, making his passage slick and noisy, and she closed her eyes in complete bliss, giving herself up to the German shepherd's powerful fucking.
Brent had watched horror-stricken as Prince's gigantically thick cock stretched Karen's little cunt mouth almost to bursting. He thought for sure it would hurt her, and he was preparing to drag the dog off her, when he noticed the lewd grin on her face and the way her lush body grew pink with arousal. She began to gurgle wetly in her throat, a sound he was familiar with it always happened when she was most hotly excited. It seemed incredible that she should enjoy that monstrous prick, but she did. She began to slam her wet cunt back in time to the dog's deep strokes, wailing her pleasure.
"Christ!" Brent exclaimed. "You LIKE it?"
She didn't open her eyes, but she gasped, "Like it? I love it! It's the most fantastic fuck I ever had!"
Beaten out by a dog, Brent thought ruefully. He understood now that his affair with Karen wasn't going to last long, because he just couldn't keep up with her needs, couldn't provide the novelty and increasingly kinky thrills she craved. He felt bitter and hostile toward her, and as he settled back to watch, he found himself hoping the dog's gigantic cock would hurt her after all. No such luck. As Prince fucked away with demonic force and energy, Karen White, the minister's wife, screamed in ecstasy and came again and again.
Meg lay in the back seat of a parked car, holding the sweaty boy tight to her slim body as he moaned and sawed his rigid cock deep into her tight little cunt. The boy was in complete bliss, starting to come, but Meg wasn't feeling anything in particular. She seldom did. She supposed that she was the most promiscuous girl in school, and it seemed ironic that she got so little out of it. There was the brief comfort of holding another human being close to her, but that was all. She didn't get sexually aroused, didn't share the boys' hot excitement. All she wanted was to be popular, to have friends, but it wasn't working out that way. Boys were only interested in fucking her, not in talking to her or understanding her. As her sweaty, moaning date shot his hot load of cum into her, Meg felt acutely lonely. Their lovemaking was over, his interest gone.
He crawled awkwardly off her and said, "Well, you wanta drive around some more?"
She knew he didn't mean it. "No, thank you," she said. "You can take me home now."
And he did, as fast as he could. She supposed he could hardly wait to get on the phone to his buddies, and she could almost hear his snickering account of how he'd made it with Meg White, the minister's kid. It hurt her to know he would do this, but it was a little late to start guarding her reputation. And really, what did it matter? What did anything matter?
She went into the house and started upstairs for her bedroom, when she heard the strange noises from her parents' room. She'd heard similar sounds before panting, moaning, the creak of bedspring sand she'd been tempted to investigate, but she knew her mother would be furious at the intrusion. The thing was, these noises always came when Daddy wasn't home, and that made Meg intensely curious. If Karen was alone, why and how was she making such sounds? And if she wasn't alone, who was with her? Meg suddenly resolved to find out. She didn't care if her mother got mad, she just had to know.
Meg tiptoed to the door of her parents' bedroom, seized the knob, and suddenly pulled the door open. She gawked at what she saw, not really comprehending for a moment. Her mother was there on the bed her distant, dignified, socially prominent mother but it wasn't the Karen she knew. This was a wild woman, her face contorted with lust, her voice loud and shrill, her blonde hair disheveled and swinging with the powerful movements of her body. A dog was doing something to her, and there was a boy watching. Meg recognized him as a senior boy, older than she was, but far too young to be doing this kind of thing with her mother. The scene was all wrong. Whatever the dog was doing and Meg could hardly doubt what it was Karen was enjoying it intensely, and the boy seemed delighted to watch, her. It was really too much for Meg to comprehend. She'd never even suspected that her mother was unfaithful, let alone that she did incredible things like this.
The engrossed trio didn't notice her, and after a moment Meg quietly closed the door and went away. She wandered downstairs, bumping into things, hardly noticing where she was going, and when she reached the dark living room she sat down on the floor and began to cry. She didn't want to believe what she'd seen. She wanted someone to hold her and comfort her and tell her it wasn't true.
"Daddy," she sobbed, "oh, Daddy, please come home."
From upstairs she could still hear the wild noises, and they continued as Tom White drove up in front of the house.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Tom turned on the hall light and found Meg sitting on the floor, he knew instantly that something was very wrong. The girl's eyes were glazed with shock, and she was crying quietly. When she saw him standing in the doorway, she tried to speak, but no words came out. Instead she simply pointed upstairs. It was then that Tom heard the noises.
He bounded quickly but quietly up the stairs, and he shivered as he heard the sounds coming from the master bedroom. If it was Karen with another of her lovers, if she'd exposed the girl to something like that ... He fought down his anger. It would do no good to have another confrontation with Karen. Their loud quarreling would only upset Meg more. He quietly opened the door a few inches and looked into the room.
He stayed there nearly a full minute, wanting to make sure he was really seeing it Karen fucking wildly with the dog, watched by a boy young enough to be her son. Then he turned and went quietly downstairs again, where Meg was still huddled on the floor.
"You saw that?" he said.
She nodded. Then a convulsive shiver passed through her body, and Tom hurried to her and scooped her up in his arms. The girl clung to him as he carried her upstairs to her room. In silent agreement, they made no noise that would alert the others to their presence in the house. Neither of them wanted to deal with Karen just then. Tom carried his daughter into her room, closed the door, and laid her gently down on her bed. As he started to release her, however, she gave a little sob and held out her arms to him. He understood that she needed the comfort of his physical closeness, so he kicked off his shoes and lay down beside her, cradling her in his arms.
"Oh, Meg," he said, "I'm so sorry you had to see that. If I'd had any idea she'd do something like that."
"Daddy, no," Meg said, finding her voice at last. "Let's not talk about that. I don't even want to think about it."
"I'm afraid it won't be easy to forget," said Tom.
"I know," Meg said. "But it scares me. It scares me so much, Daddy, because I'm afraid I'll be like her."
Tom felt icy fear in his throat, because he half suspected this himself. The strange passions of the mother were already showing up in her child. But he tried to keep his voice calm.
"Why, Meg? Why do you have to be like her? You're an individual. You're different."
"But aren't some things inherited?" Meg said fearfully. "I mean" She sobbed loudly, then went on, "I mean, why can't I say no to boys?"
Tom reddened. He'd hoped he'd never have to discuss this with her, but he saw no way out. The town gossip was full of his daughter's promiscuous behavior, and it was high time he did something about it.
"Well, what do you get out of it, Meg?" he said, hardly able to control his voice. "Is it the sex? The fun? Or something else?"
Meg absently began to play with the buttons of his shirt as she tried to explain.
"It's not fun for me. I don't get hot for boys. I just wanta friend. Somebody to be close to. But it never works out that way. I try to make them like me, but they don't, even when I go all the way with them." She sobbed with shame. "I just don't know what to do."
Tom mourned his daughter's ugly loss of innocence, the way she'd fallen into the age-old trap of trying to win love by giving away her body. He knew he'd failed miserably as a parent.
"I understand, baby," he said, "and it's my fault. Mine and your mother's. We should have given you the love you needed, we should have paid more attention. I love you very much, Meg, but I never showed it. I was very, very wrong. But what you must do is start to respect yourself. Don't sleep with these boys any more. Save it for a man you really love."
She sighed and snuggled tighter against him. "You're right, Daddy. I'll try, I really will. But it won't be easy. My reputation is already ruined. They'll go on talking about me"
"Hush," said Tom. "That's enough for now. You need to rest. You've had enough punishment for one day."
She lay there listlessly, making no move, and so he began to undress her, something he hadn't done since she was a little girl. Her costume was the standard one of the day, sneakers and jeans and a shirt, though she could never make her curly red hair grow long and straight like the fashionable girls, and her impish freckled face wasn't stylish, either. Still she was beautiful, Tom thought, delicate and slim and fresh.
He rubbed her little feet, which were still cold with shock, and Meg murmured gratefully but made no move to help him undress her. He pulled off her jeans, revealing a tiny pair of pink bikini panties, and for a moment he forgot she was his daughter and gawked at the girlish slimness of her pelvis, the tiny pout of her cunt bush under the tight panties. Her belly was flat and taut, her legs well shaped but very slender. He shuddered to think of that delicate body being defiled by one boy after another....
But he forced his thoughts away from that ugly fact. The girl could still be saved if he took proper care of her from now on. He pulled up her shirt to get it off over her head, and he blushed deeply to find that she was wearing no bra. He should have expected it. None of the girls wore them any more. But it still came as a surprise to be gawking at his fifteen-year-old daughter's naked tits. He hadn't seen them since they'd budded out from her childish chest several years ago, and he was surprised to find them much larger, ripe and round, the light-brown nipples perfectly centered on firm white flesh. They were beautiful young tits, and again he forgot that this was his own child. He wanted very much to touch those adorable little boobs, to play with them....
Then he remembered himself and blushed deeply. Fortunately Meg didn't see any of this, for her eyes were closed. Tom quickly slipped the shirt off over her head, tousling her gleaming red curls. She looked sweet wearing only her pink panties, deliriously rounded yet girlishly slim....
He wondered if he ought to remove her panties, if it was right. She'd be more comfortable without them, yet his palms sweated at the thought, and he felt uncomfortable about it. Meg made the decision for him. Without opening her eyes, she raised her slim hips off the bed, signaling that she wanted the final garment removed, too. Tom swallowed hard, and his hands shook as he seized the flimsy garment and began inching it down over her hips.
He knew now that it was wrong, because it was getting him excited. He found himself gawking like a horny boy as her first springy red pubic hairs bounced into view. He tugged her panties down further, uncovering the whole expanse of her cute little auburn cunt, and quite suddenly he felt his balls swelling up with arousal, his cock twitching into life in the confinement of his pants.
He was deeply ashamed of himself, yet he had to finish taking off her panties, or she'd wonder what was wrong. He quickly and clumsily tugged the garment off over her ankles and dropped it on the floor. Meg stretched in animal comfort, and he had a brief glimpse of her little red cunt slit, a lingering view of her gently quivering tits. His cock grew harder, and his balls swelled more impatiently. He saw before him on the bed not Meg, his daughter, but a deliriously ripe teenage girl, infinitely soft yet firm, a girl made to be held and caressed....
"Fuck me in, please, Daddy," she murmured.
Her words broke the spell, and Tom, blushing in shame, rolled back the covers for her. She seemed too tired to move, so he was forced to pick her up and get her to the turned-down side of the bed. Contact with her naked body seemed electrifying to him, and he almost dropped her. Her skin was deliriously soft and silky and warm, and he wanted desperately to run his hands all over her. He shook as he gently maneuvered her to the other side of the bed.
He'd had four different women this week his beautiful blonde wife, the stylish Helen Davidson, the sexy whore in Chicago, and rawboned Mabel Henry but they had all been mature women, nothing like this slim, inviting girl who was hardly more than a child. The very fragility of her body, her half-grown tits and cunt muff, made him perversely horny for her. Good God, he thought, make me stop! Make me stop thinking like this!
Meg had been completely empty of any sexual feeling, any excitement, when her father undressed her. She only knew she was glad of his help and his company, that she wanted someone to baby her. The change came when he touched her. When he lifted her naked body in his big strong hands to move her under the covers, Meg realized that his touch was different from all the boys she'd made love with. He was stronger, more confident, and much more pleasing. She wondered how it would be to make love with a real, adult man instead of some sweaty, nervous boy. The idea excited her sharply. In fact until that moment Meg had never felt sharp lust for any male. It surprised her, but it didn't frighten her. It only made her want more. As Tom moved her onto the soft fresh sheets, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him onto the bed with her.
Tom's heart hammered. He couldn't help thinking of how it would be to accept this sleepy embrace and to return it, running his eager hands over her delicious little body but, my God, she was his own daughter, and it was going too far.
"Sweetheart," he said gently, trying to untangle her arms from around his neck, "you'd better sleep now. I'll sit here beside the bed if you like, but you really ought to get some rest."
Meg thought quickly. She didn't want him to go away. Not only did she crave his big comforting presence, but she was experiencing a strange excitement that she wanted to pursue. Her body felt hot and helplessly wriggly; her newly maturing cunt was getting moist and swollen. She had no clear idea of what she wanted from him, except to have his big strong body pressed against her, but that was enough. She was determined not to let him go. She held tightly to him and said plaintively, "Daddy, stay with me. I'm cold. I'm scared. Please stay right here."
Tom sighed and slipped into bed beside her. He felt very uncomfortable about it, but he believed her when she said she needed him. It must have been a terrible shock for her, seeing Karen fucking that dog. God knows it had shocked him. He slipped his arm under her shoulders, and the girl cuddled up to him, hugging him tightly. She slipped her legs over him, till her cute, firm little ass was resting right on his crotch, and even through his pants he could feel the glowing heat of her young cunt. All he could do was pray he didn't get a hard-on. Meg was young, but she knew what that was and what it meant.
"Go to sleep now," he said.
But it was Tom, not Meg, who drifted off. He hadn't meant to, but he was exhausted, and in a few minutes he was snoring softly.
Meg was tired, too, but she couldn't sleep while this strange, hot excitement gripped her. She was figuring it out more clearly now. She realized that she was powerfully turned on by her father's heavily muscled body, so different from the awkward, skinny boys she'd been fucking. Those boys bored her, did nothing for her. She knew she was ready for a real man. Her desire and her curiosity were impossible to contain, and when she was sure Tom was asleep, she began to explore him.
She felt the powerful breadth of his chest and shoulders, the firm, tapering waist and slim hips, the heavy muscles of his legs and arms. But she knew there was something else she wanted to touch more than anything. She wanted to feel her father's cock, to know how big it was, how long ... She felt no guilt about this, only a reasonable curiosity. She couldn't recall ever seeing him naked before, because he was so modest about such things. She had a feeling he wouldn't approve, but he was asleep and didn't have to know....
Excitedly Meg slipped her hand down to his crotch and felt the semi-hard line of his long, thick cock. Even in its flaccid state it was much bigger than the others she'd known. Its very size excited her, and she felt her little cunt growing hot and wet with need. For the first time in her young life she was horny and because her parents had never disciplined her, never taught her to curb her desires, she could think of nothing but satisfying that strange urge in her moistening little cunt.
Hardly knowing what she was doing, Meg unzipped her father's pants and reached inside to touch his big cock. When she felt its silky texture and throbbing heat, she grew more excited than ever. If only he'd stay asleep, giving her time to play with him....
Tom had been soundly asleep, but he woke suddenly with a sharp feeling of alarm. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was, knew nothing except that there was trouble. He opened his eyes and saw the top of Meg's head, the tight red curls, resting on his chest. He looked farther down, at the naked girl lying half on top of him, at her little hand toying with his naked, half-hard prick.
He closed his eyes. Overcome with shock and horror, he still knew he had to handle this situation just right. He mustn't punish, mustn't be harsh, and yet he must make her understand that she was doing a serious evil. While he debated just how to speak to her, he felt her warm little hand growing bolder on his long, soft prick, squeezing and pumping it, urging it into life. No doubt about it, the girl was deliberately trying to get him up but was she delirious, did she realize he was her father? He opened his eyes again, ready to force himself to speak to her, when to his horror her head dipped down into his crotch and he felt her hot wet tongue tip teasing his sensitive cockhead.
Meg hadn't forgotten that Tom was her father, but to her it didn't matter. She knew nothing of incest or the shame society attaches to it. She only knew that she wanted this body, this cock, and if they belonged to her father, that just made it all the nicer. Daddy would be gentle and considerate and loving with her, the way those other boys never were; and he excited her, as they could not. She wanted to get his cock hard, to make him want her, and she was good at that. She'd done it with many boys.
She remembered how one boy had asked her to suck his cock, and how excited it had made him. She knew that would work for sure. Even if Daddy woke up, she reasoned, he'd be too horny to protest.
Meg eagerly dipped her head down toward his massive prick and began to lick the swollen purple head. The effect was like magic. Daddy's long limp cock twitched violently under her wet tongue and began to swell into life. She saw it lurch into a stiff, standing position, growing amazingly fat and distended. It was easily the largest prick she'd ever seen, and its size thrilled her. She salivated heavily, then opened her mouth and slid the engorged purple head of his cock inside. It was so thick that it stretched her lips almost painfully, but she felt intense excitement as the great weight lay on her tongue and his salty juices began to dribble onto her taste buds. She forced more of the massive prick into her mouth and began to suck hungrily on it.
Tom felt his shock rapidly dissipating, replaced by almost insane pleasure. This girl's mouth was tight, blazing hot, and juicy. She sucked eagerly, swiftly, on his aroused cock, and every movement of her greedy little mouth and tongue sent sharp blasts of pleasure through his loins. He wanted to forget everything and just let her blow him, to come blissfully in her throat. He could pretend to be asleep. He could just let her continue ... But then the horror of it hit him again. She was his daughter, for God's sake, and she was sucking on his cock, and she had to be stopped.
"Meg," he stammered, "Meg, you mustn't do that."
Meg jumped at his voice, and his thick, stiff cock popped from her hot little mouth, gleaming with her spit, creaming heavily, embarrassing evidence of his hot arousal. She turned slowly to meet his eye, but by the time she did, she'd collected herself. She wanted him, and she was going to have him that was all she knew. Her eyes were soft, pleading, just a hint of mischief in their glowing brown depths.
"Oh, please, Daddy," she said, "don't make me stop. It's fun. It's fun for you, too, isn't it?"
Tom reddened, and he wanted to die of shame. Obviously it was "fun" for him his cock stood straight up, grossly swollen and dripping steady bubbles of cream. He couldn't deny that Meg had aroused him.
"It's wrong, Meg," he said weakly. "A girl shouldn't do that kind of thing with her father."
Meg looked at him blankly, and he realized with a shock that he'd never spoken to her about the morality of sex. He'd seen that she learned the facts of life, but he'd never taught her the rules of the game. Always he'd encouraged her to enjoy herself, do and say as she wanted, to be free but as a result she was too free. He had only himself to blame for the horrible thing that was happening now.
Finally Meg laughed and said, "Oh, Daddy, that's silly. Who cares if you're my father or not? Nobody's watching."
And before he could reply, her hot little mouth was enveloping the fat purple head of his cock again, sucking it into the juicy nest formed by her palate, tongue, and cheeks. The sweet sucking began once more, causing sharp jolts of pleasure in his loins.
Tom moaned and fell back limp against the pillow. He knew there was no arguing with her, because she didn't understand. He'd just have to stop her but for the moment he couldn't bear to. It felt too damned good, her busy little mouth working swiftly and forcefully on his hard cock. He wanted to feel it just a while longer.
The noise of Meg's eager sucking grew loud and wet, and she managed to take a little more of his huge prick inside. Tom was dangerously excited now, almost too excited to turn back, but he thought, perhaps she was right. What could it hurt if nobody knew about it? He began to convince himself that it was no big deal, that it fitted in nicely with his resolve to live only for pleasure. He could imagine no greater pleasure than making love to this exquisite young girl.
At the same time, another part of his mind told him he was wrong, horribly wrong. His conscience warred against his body, all his years as a minister battling against the pent-up urges of his loins. Meanwhile Meg had reached into his pants and tugged out his grossly swollen balls, tickling and squeezing them even as she went on loudly sucking his cock. She'd gotten into a better position now, making it easier for her to suck him, her cute little ass pointed right at his face as she knelt beside him. Tom dizzily eyed her girlishly narrow slit, the pure pink of her cunt with its barely visible fringe of reddish hair.
He didn't plan it, he just did it. He seized the girl's slim hips and drew her closer to him, till her soft but firm little ass-cheeks brushed his face. He caught the fresh fragrance of her tiny snatch, saw the gleaming moisture of her cunt lips, the sure sign of her arousal, and without forethought he stuck out his tongue and applied it stiffly to the tiny red button of her clit. He circled the twitching little shaft with his wet tongue tip, and Meg, her mouth stuffed with his cock, gurgled her excitement. He planted his mouth on the quivering little bud and began to suck it, and the girl shivered blissfully. He sucked her ripe little clit as hungrily and noisily as she sucked his huge prick.
Meg had never had anyone eat her cunt before, though several curious boys had touched it. No boy had ever used his tongue, his mouth. It was an unexpected and breathtaking pleasure for her. She'd had no idea that anything connected with sex could feel so good. At first she didn't even understand what Daddy was doing, just that it felt nice, but when she heard the wet slurping sounds she understood that he was sucking her clit, and this excited her even more.
She creamed helplessly, her fragrant young juices spilling out to wet his chin, and her little hips began moving rhythmically in the motions of fucking. Her body seemed beyond her control as it responded to Tom's delicious sucking, and she would have squealed and whined with pleasure if her mouth hadn't been occupied with his thick cock.
Her saliva came in torrents as she went on sucking him, and the more aroused she got, the faster and harder she sucked. There was one thing she remembered, though. When she'd sucked that other boy's cock, he'd lost control of himself and come in her mouth. She didn't like that, and she didn't want it to happen again, not even with Daddy, whom she loved so much. She wanted some fulfillment for herself, too.
Just when it seemed as if his gigantic prick was going to explode, Meg let it pop from her mouth, and she gawked at it a moment in awe as it swayed heavily before her, enormously long and fat and distended, the blue veins bulging in the pale skin. Then she reversed her position, drawing her hot little cunt away from Tom's greedily sucking lips, and she began to tug off his pants.
"Baby ... " Tom said weakly. It was the meekest of protests. He just didn't have it in him to stop her. Limply he allowed the girl to remove his pants and shirt, till he lay naked before her, his cock weaving heavily in the air like some gross symbol. He knew the awful thing he was doing, but he just couldn't stop.
Meg flopped down beside him, her brown eyes wide with lust, and began to run her hand wonderingly up and down his rigid cock. She licked her lips hungrily, and Tom couldn't help reaching out to cup and squeeze her beautiful, little round tits. They were wonderfully soft and warm, the light-brown nipples poking mischievously into his palms. Meg sighed happily as he caressed her young tits, but she couldn't stay still for long. Her cunt felt achingly hot and swollen; her juices wouldn't stop. Every instinct drove her to find some relief for this nagging lust, and at last she looked at Tom with hot hungry eyes and said, "Daddy, please, do it to me. I want it so much."
Again Tom was fully conscious of what he was doing, but he rationalized that it was too late to turn back. He'd already played undeniable sex games with his daughter, already shown his incestuous feelings, so what did it matter if he went one step farther. He could see that the girl was desperately horny, and God knew he was also. He eyed her sweet little pubic puff, the gleaming-pink of her hungry cunt, her delicate but enticing little body and he was lost. Without a word he gently rolled her over on her back and slipped on top of her.
Meg quivered with breathless excitement as she felt her father's big muscular body pressing her down, the silver hair mat of his chest rubbing her swollen tits. She eagerly threw her arms around him and opened her legs wide in total surrender. She kept thinking of that huge cock of his and how it was going to feel, and when she felt its hard head butting blindly in her soaked slit, she quivered with excitement.
The swollen, wet glans nosed around in her sensitive cunt lips for a moment, then slid into place, stuffing and stretching the tiny mouth of her girlish cunt. Meg wailed and slammed her pussy up to meet it, urgently seeking to impale herself on his thick cock. Then she felt him gliding into her, stuffing her fully, creating delicious hot friction in her narrow passage.
"Yes!" she squealed. "Oh, yes, yes! Go in all the way, Daddy ... oh, YES!"
The girl quivered and whined as he thrust his bloated cock all the way into her, till his dripping glans skidded against her slick womb and his coarse-haired balls rubbed her tight little ass-cheeks. Tom was whining, too, because he'd never been in a cunt so tight and gripping, so deliciously snug. His prick was bathed in fiery hot juices as the excited girl went on creaming helplessly. He felt her sharp little nails digging into his shoulders, her eager little cunt slamming furiously back and forth to create more hot friction even before he started to move.
He had meant to fuck her tenderly, slowly, but her greedy rutting spurred him on to a more forceful balling, long, deep strokes that butted her womb and thoroughly reamed her tight cunt Walls. He feared he might hurt her, but Meg responded joyfully, squealing her sharp pleasure and matching his strokes with the furious jerking of her tiny pelvis.
"Oooooo," she wailed, "ooooo, it's so good! I never liked it before, but I love it now! I love you, Daddy! You make it so nice for me!"
If Tom hadn't been so deliriously horny, those words would have shaken him, but he paid little attention. He only knew that he had a delicious young girl in his arms who wriggled lustily and was obviously delighted to be stuffed with his thick cock, a tiny girl whose cunt was gripping his meat like a velvet vise, practically milking the cum out of him.
He managed to hold out, fucking her deeply, powerfully, till she began to climax. He felt her lovely little body going into blissful convulsions, heard her shrill, incoherent cries of joy, and her girlish cunt gripped and squeezed his cock again and again in the spasms of coming, bathing him with scalding juices.
That pushed him over the edge. He would have liked to prolong this delicious fuck, but he felt his balls tightening as they poured out their load, and then he yelped with sharp pleasure as he began squirting jet after sizzling jet of cum into his daughter's clutching cunt.
Some time passed during which they lay dizzily in each other's arms, and then Tom rolled off the girl's flushed body and tenderly covered her up. Just before he pulled the blankets over her, he saw the wide puddle of cum forming between her legs his cum, oozing from Meg's cunt. He glanced at her in shame, but she was already falling asleep, exhausted by the day's experiences. He was grateful for that. He gently pulled the covers into place and stood there watching the sleeping girl.
He forced himself to admit the facts: He was a minister of God, and he had just fucked his own daughter. He had done it to her willingly, joyfully, without regard for the consequences. It wasn't his job or his reputation he was worried about, it was Meg. How could she possibly grow up a normal and healthy-minded young woman after a thing like this? How could she ever forget that her own father had given her her first orgasm, her first sexual pleasure?
He wanted to weep with self-loathing, but he knew that an emotional scene would do no good. Things couldn't go on like this, and he had to do something about it. It was time to see Karen, time to talk about their future if, indeed, their tainted life had any future at all.
CHAPTER NINE
Karen lay in bed sipping a drink, wondering if she would ever sleep again. She'd already taken some pills for that purpose, but they'd had no effect. She tossed restlessly, experiencing a strange longing, a surprising lack of fulfillment. Brent and the dog had gone after that incredible orgy, a frenzy of hard fucking which ought to have more than satisfied a normal woman. Karen was not satisfied. Some ultimate thrill had not been reached, some final pleasure eluded her. Though not ordinarily given to self-pity, she now choked back a sob and said aloud, "My God, what's wrong with me? Why can't I be satisfied?"
The door opened, and Tom walked into the room. He was naked, hollow-eyed, and pale. He closed the door and stood there looking at her.
"My God," said Karen, "what've you been doing? Not wandering around like that, I hope."
He crossed the room slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed. His voice was weary but determined. "I've just done a terrible tiling," he said. "You ought to know about it. Maybe you can help. Someone has to help, because I can't seem to help myself."
"Get to the point, Tom," Karen said impatiently. She took a long swallow of her drink. "Don't just sit there blubbering."
He looked her in the eye. "That's how you think of me, isn't it? Weak, blubbering, ineffective. I don't suppose I blame you. But I am capable of terrible evil, too. Karen, I've just made love to our daughter."
She gawked at him. "WHAT? Oh, Tom, you're putting me on! You mean you felt a little horny, maybe gave her a little feel. Is that it?"
"No," he said miserably. "I meant what I said. I made love to her."
"You mean you balled Meg?" Karen cried.
He nodded.
Karen gawked at him a moment, then broke into raucous laughter. Tom watched her, deeply shocked, as she shook and laughed till the tears came.
"Oh, my God!" she shrieked. "This is too much! Thomas White, the minister, fucks his own daughter! That's superb, Tom, really a beautiful touch! I never would have believed you were capable of it!"
"But what about Meg?" he said desperately. "Think what I've done to her."
Karen shrugged. "She liked it, didn't she?"
Tom reddened and said weakly, "How did you know?"
Again the harsh laughter. "Oh, Tom, will you quit worrying about the kid? There's nothing we can do for her now. It's all been done, it's beyond curing. She's a slut, and shell always be a slut. It doesn't matter who she fucks, even you, because she's fucked so many guys already. She"
Tom slapped his wife's face as hard as he could, his eyes blazing with fury. Karen's head snapped, and she fell back half-faint, her lip bleeding.
"You're the slut!" he screamed. "Don't you dare talk about my daughter like that, you whore! It's because of you that she's like this! It's your filthy influence! Do you know what she saw tonight? You with that dog! God knows what else she's seen! You damned whore, it's all your fault!"
Karen heard him, but it was a moment before she could clear her head and reply. When she did, her voice was calm and cold. "Meg started sleeping around long before I did. It wasn't my example alone that made her this way. It was us, Tom, our damned sanctimonious manner, our hypocrisy. We kept preaching at her to be 'good', and she could see it was a pile of crap, that in our hearts we were aching to break out and be evil. She couldn't believe us. So she despised us"
"No!" Tom cried. He couldn't accept what Karen was saying, because it destroyed him. He raised his arm to hit her again, to obliterate her if he could, but she saw it coming and dodged just in time. In a blinding rage he hurtled onto the bed after her, and Karen leaped out from under the covers and tried to crawl away. Tom caught her ankle, and she went sprawling onto the bed, her silk nightgown pushed up to her creamy thighs. He felt her smooth, warm skin, gazed at her perfect legs, at the lush quivering body which no longer responded to him. A perverse desire came over him, and he tugged viciously at her ankle, trying to draw her to him.
"Let go of me, you bastard!" Karen hissed. "I despise you. You can't accept your own faults like a man you have to throw all the blame on me. You're a worm, a coward. I hate you, and I don't want you to touch me. Let go!"
Her resistance, her spitting hatred, only inflamed his sudden desire to fuck her. He despised her, too, and yet he knew he could never rest if he didn't conquer her. Perhaps it was all over for them, but he wanted to come out the winner, to prove to her that he was a man after all. He kept a tight hold on her ankle and crawled closer to her, panting and sweating with the exertion of their struggle. Karen looked at him icily as he slid his hand up her silky leg and under the flimsy nightgown where it covered her warm thigh. Then she spit in his face.
Tom flinched and wiped the spit away, but he did not let go of her ankle. Again he plunged his hand under her nightgown, sliding it swiftly upward till he was touching the moist, springy hairs of her cunt. He curled his fingers into the soft curls and gripped them hard, so that Karen went pale with pain, but she didn't make a sound, only continued to glare at him with chilling hatred.
"Bitch," he whispered, "filthy bitch ... " He jerked mercilessly at the tender pubic curls, and Karen couldn't help crying out sharply.
He suddenly leaped onto her, straddling her quivering body, his hard ass-cheeks poised over her heaving tits. He seized her arms and pinned her down. His limp cock, still moist with Meg's juices, trailed across Karen's face, and she flinched and turned her head away in disgust. Tom squeezed her wrists cruelly hard, and she whimpered with pain.
"Please," she said, "don't hurt me."
"Then do what I want," said Tom. "Suck my cock."
Karen gawked at him. In all their twenty years of marriage he'd never even asked her to touch him there, never practiced any foreplay at all. She'd yearned for it, but she knew Tom was too modest and inhibited to do it. His request came as a complete surprise to her, and she couldn't help laughing bitterly.
"What, after all these years you've finally discovered THAT?" she said tauntingly.
"I've discovered a lot of things these past few days," said Tom. "For one thing, we've been wasting time. We've wasted years, when we could have been getting our kicks. We can start now."
Karen wrinkled her face in disgust. "I've told you again and again, I don't want you. You bastard you don't want me, either."
"That's not quite true," said Tom. "I hate you, yes, but that doesn't mean I don't want you. And I'm going to make you want me."
Through her drug-induced haze Karen began to feel fear. This was not the gentle, bumbling, ineffective husband she knew. Tom was acting like a sadistic madman. Making it with Meg, she reasoned, must have driven him out of his mind, at least temporarily. She told herself to be cautious, to play it cool. She didn't want to be hurt. Her beauty was all she had left, her ticket to pleasure, and if she wasn't careful, he could ruin it.
"All right," she said as calmly as she could, "so you want me, even if I don't want you. We've done it that way before, and I can do it again. Get off me, and we'll make love."
"No," said Tom. "I told you what I want."
To reinforce his point, he again trailed his wet, limp prick over her soft cheek. Karen shuddered.
"Tom, you can't be serious," she said. "You never asked me to do that before."
"But you've done it," he hissed. "I know you have. With that man you brought home, with that kid"
"Because I wanted to!" Karen shouted, losing her temper. "I don't want to do it with you. I'm not your slave!"
"You are tonight," said Tom. "No more talk. Open your mouth and start sucking me, or, so help me, I'll kill you."
Karen didn't argue any more. She'd rather do this distasteful thing than risk a brutal beating. She opened her mouth, and Tom grinned savagely as he seized his long cock and stuffed it into her reluctant mouth. It was pungent with his cum and with her daughter's cunt juices, and at first she gagged and could hardly keep from spitting it out. Tom glared at her, however, and she forced herself to go limp and passive as he continued to feed his prick into her mouth. He stuffed it all in, till his balls rubbed roughly against her chin, and Karen's eyes rolled as she fought back nausea. "Now suck it," he hissed, "and do a good job as good as you did for the others."
Karen blinked back her tears and began to suck. His cock was too large for her mouth, and she was forced to take some of it into her throat, almost gagging as she did so. Her lips were painfully stretched by his thickness, and she shuddered to think that it would be worse as he got hard. But she had no choice. The merciless animal staring down at her was too powerful to fight. She tried to blank her mind, to suck automatically on his limp, warm cock. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him.
Throughout all of this, Tom had been appalled at his own cruelty, but there was welling up in him a blinding rage he couldn't control. Karen was only partly the cause, he knew. Mainly he was angry at himself, at his own failures and weaknesses. Perhaps he was even jealous of her for deciding what she wanted and ruthlessly going after it. But most of all he knew he had failed as a minister and failed as a pleasure-seeker, too. Nothing brought him peace or contentment, nothing made him happy with himself, and he was frightened and angry. He sought to drown these feelings by abusing his wife, the one who was most conscious of his failures, the one who never failed to taunt him.
He looked down at her pale, strained face, at her obvious repulsion, and it pleased him. Her mouth was dry but snug and hot, and her throat was tight and silky around the sensitive head of his cock. He grunted with pleasure and began to move his hips, feeding his thick, limp cock in and out of her reluctant mouth, a heartless rape that excited him powerfully. If he could accomplish nothing else, he would humiliate the woman who had rejected him.
"Eat it, you cunt!" he said savagely. "Suck it faster!"
She whimpered but obeyed. She was afraid to anger him, fearing that he might dream up some punishment even worse than this. He pumped his flaccid dick steadily over her dry tongue, into her gagging, constricted throat, and she could hear his horny panting. Then to her horror she felt him getting hard. She well knew how big his cock could get, knew there was no way she could hold it all in her mouth. She felt the tightening of his shaft, the monstrous swelling, the gradual lengthening, and in a panic she tried to spit his cock out before he choked her.
"No!" he cried. "Take all of it! All of it, damn you!"
He thrust his hips forward brutally, and his thick, erect cock rammed mercilessly down her throat. She gagged, but there was no stopping him, and in her blind fear she imagined that he was penetrating all the way to her stomach. As half his swollen cock slid into her tight throat, she heard him whine with pleasure.
"Yes," he whispered hoarsely, "that's good ... keep it there ... suck me, goddamn you, hard!"
Her throat stuffed with his engorged, hot cock, Karen felt a sudden sharp excitement. She couldn't understand it at first, knowing only that her loins melted with lust, her cunt creamed hotly, and she was violently aroused. She began to suck his huge prick, and her excitement grew, even though her throat was cruelly reamed by his deeply probing cock. Then she understood. This was the ultimate thrill she'd been waiting for, the final temptation a brutal rape of her whole body and mind. She liked his cruelty, his force, his sadism. She wanted to be dominated and used in precisely this way. She knew this was sick, perverse, but at the same time she accepted it. She had found herself, and that was enough. She began to suck his huge prick with real hunger.
Tom felt the sudden scalding bath of her saliva and realized that her mood had changed. He looked down at her. Her eyes weren't closed any more, meeting his, glowing with undisguised lust. She made a horny gurgling noise as his thick cock reamed her throat. He felt a sickening shock in his gut as he realized what it all meant, that his wife liked to be hurt, humiliated, punished. At the same time, it was exciting knowledge, because it meant he could do anything to her, anything at all ... The animal in him had aroused the beast in her.
Instantly his mind was inflamed with all the filthy, unspeakable things he'd ever wanted to do with a woman, things he hadn't even dared try with a paid whore. He laughed harshly and drew his fully erect cock out of her throat and mouth. It gleamed with her steamy spit and snapped upward to point at the ceiling. He saw Karen glancing hungrily at it, but he rolled off her to lie on his back.
"Lick my balls," he said harshly.
Her first response was indignation. He had no right to order her around like this. "You go to hell!" she snapped.
"Lick my balls, and fast," said Tom, "or I'll knock your head off!"
Karen quivered as she felt that masochistic thrill again, the excitement of being bullied into perverse acts. No doubt about it, she was enjoying this game tremendously. She knew Tom wasn't kidding, that he'd really hurt her, and this fear aroused her even more.
Meekly she crawled over to him and stretched out between his powerful, hairy legs. She slavishly kissed his painfully swollen nuts, running her lips meekly over the coarse, silver hairs, the throbbing, hot flesh. Then she stuck out her tongue and began to lick his ballooning balls, slowly, thoroughly, bathing every inch of hot flesh with her slick tongue, nosing into the dark recesses of his crotch, places she'd never touched him before. She felt hungry for him, wanted to lick and taste every part of his rugged body. She whimpered with excitement, and her saliva poured out to bathe his tightly constricted nut sac. She licked him faster, with more pleasure from her slick, hungry tongue.
Tom lay back melting with pleasure as the delicious tongue bath went on and on. He received some perverse thrill from watching her, this beautiful blonde woman who had so haughtily rejected him in the past. She bent meekly between his legs, her big tits swaying and almost grazing the bed, her soft, round ass-cheeks raised high. He watched her pink tongue, wet and shining, as it worked tirelessly in mischievous little strokes all over the hairy surfaces of his balls. He realized that for years he'd wanted to make her do this, to make her crawl and worship his body with her hands and mouth and tongue. Always he'd been too reserved, too polite, to ask her. Now it didn't matter. All the barriers were down, and they knew each other too well. They no longer respected each other, and this permitted them to grovel like animals in heat.
He didn't hesitate to give his next command. "Suck my balls! Do a good job, whore!"
Karen whimpered with excitement and bent lower over his huge, swollen balls. He groaned with intense pleasure as he felt his right nut being sucked into the blazing wetness of her mouth. She managed to take it all in, and then the delicious, strong sucking began, the wicked play of her rough tongue. Tom whinnied and yelped without restraint, and when she finished with his right nut and sucked in the left, he was already half-faint with pleasure. He was far from coming, however. He wanted to save it, to use her lush body completely before the night was over. He let her suck loudly and hungrily on his swollen balls till he could take no more without shooting his load right in her face. Then he roughly shoved her away and rolled over onto his belly.
"Lick my ass," he said.
Karen felt no indignation this time. She was too far drawn into the sadistic game which thrilled her so powerfully. Her cunt was aching now, creaming helplessly, the thick juice trickling down her thighs. Never had she been so aroused, so totally caught up in violent lust. She whimpered meekly and crawled over to lie between Tom's outstretched legs. She seized his hard ass and parted the muscular cheeks, and in their shadowed crease she saw his brown, wrinkled ass-hole. With no hesitation at all she began to lick it.
Tom moaned and dug his fingers into the sheet. Every perverse task he assigned her was proving more fun than the last. He ground his rigid cock against the sheet, unable to still the horny movements of his pelvis as her hot, wet little tongue lashed and bathed his ass-hole. He recognized that Karen was equally excited, her fingers digging sharply into his ass-cheeks, her hungry mouth drooling hotly onto his sensitive ass-hole. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do to him tonight, and this knowledge spurred him on to even more wicked things.
"Stick your tongue in my ass," he growled. "Eat me!"
Karen made the tip of her tongue wet and stiff, and then she wriggled it against the tightly clenched mouth of his ass-hole. Tom could have relaxed and made it easier for her, but he wanted her to work at it. Very gradually, panting hotly against his ass, she managed to work the slick tip of her little tongue inside the tight, wrinkled opening, and he felt fiery pleasure at the velvety penetration. Only then did he relax his anal muscles and allow her to slide her tongue deep into his shit chute. He groaned as he felt the velvety wet muscle snaking into his ass, and again he almost came, his swollen prick rubbing and jerking against the sheet. Karen gurgled lustily and forced her tongue into his ass-hole, all the way to the root. His sadistic pleasure reached its height, and he growled, "Ream me, cunt! Eat my shit!"
It was the worst thing he'd ever said to her and, perversely, the most thrilling. He'd never excited her with his courtesy or gentleness, his timid lovemaking; but this new, savage Tom was her master.
Gasping, she forced her tongue still deeper into his strong-tasting ass-hole and began to lick and clean him as thoroughly as she could. He shivered and groaned as her hot little tongue probed steadily in his tight ass, and when he heard her swallowing greedily, it was all he could do not to shoot his load onto the sheets. He didn't want to come yet.
"That's enough!" he growled.
Karen withdrew her little pink tongue from his pungent ass-hole and sat meekly waiting for his next command. She hoped it would be as wickedly exciting as the last one. Tom sighed and rolled onto his back again, his cock more painfully erect than ever. It stood up from the silver nest of pubic curls, too stiff to move, its purple head oozing thick, clear cream. Karen gazed at it and licked her lips hungrily, not bothering to disguise her lust. She started to go down on him again, but he roughly pushed her away.
"Please, Tom," she whined, "I want you."
He sneered at her. Inside he felt enormous triumph, for he'd thought she'd never want him again. But he didn't show it. He wanted to humiliate her completely before he was finished with her. "You want me?" he said cruelly. "You want me to ball you."
"Yes!" she said hotly. "Please, Tom, please...."
"All right," he said, "but not like we used to. No more meek little wife. You're a slut, you always have been. So do it like the whore you are. Turn me on, baby, because I'm not turned on yet."
Karen flashed on the idea instantly, remembering what she'd done with Brent. There could have been no more lewd, whorish performance than that. She grinned at Tom and leaped off the bed, her lovely big tits bouncing heavily. She strode to the chair which she'd placed before the full-length mirror and, just as she'd done with the startled and shocked teenage boy, she flopped into the chair and threw her long legs up over the arms, displaying her soaked, red cunt shamelessly. There was nothing left to Tom's imagination, no part of her slit hidden. He saw the erect, gleaming shaft of her clit, the intricate pink folds of her cunt lips, and heavily creaming mouth of her hungry cunt, and the delicate shading of blonde hair that surrounded it all. Karen leered at him and mischievously began to stroke herself, her finger playing naughtily over her aroused, juicy clit.
"Fuck me, Tom," she said huskily. "Come here and do it to me."
It was a moment he'd waited for a long time twenty years, to be exact. He'd had horny daydreams of his wife losing her inhibitions, shamelessly displaying herself and begging him to fuck her, but he'd never dreamed it would come true. He was so powerfully aroused by her lewd invitation that he almost lost his command over her, leaping off the bed and striding to her, his aching, erect cock bouncing heavily before him. When he stood before her, however, and saw the wicked leer on her face, he thought: No, if he did it her way, she'd win. He wasn't finished with her yet. Before he left this woman, he had to triumph over her. He sneered at her and pretended boredom.
"No, bitch," he said coldly, "that doesn't get to me at all. Any whore can do that. But you're the biggest whore of all, Karen, and you have to do better."
She was staring at him in dismay, when he suddenly pulled her from the chair and spun her around, forcing her to lean over the chair and grasp the arms for support. Be seized her hot round ass-cheeks and pulled her to him.
"This is how well do it," he snarled, "the way you deserve it."
Karen was anticipating a delicious, brutal fuck, and it was with shock and surprise that she felt the hard, drooling head of his big cock slamming into the tiny clenched mouth of her ass-hole. The first powerful thrust lodged him perhaps an inch into her steamy, tight shit chute, and the pain was terrible.
"Oh, my God, NO!" she screamed. "Please, Tom, no! You'll kill me!"
"Good," he grunted. He slammed forward again, and his massive cock tore into her virgin ass, deep into her bowels, stretching and raking the narrow, tender passage.
Karen screamed in agony and tried to wrench away from him, but he held her tightly, forcing his huge prick the last few inches till his swollen balls rested snugly between her thighs. He drew back slightly for another plunge, and he saw bright blood staining the pale shaft of his cock. He had torn her, and he was glad. He plunged brutally upward again, and she wailed hoarsely as his hard cock invaded her ass. He began to fuck her ass with sweating violence, seeking to hurt her, oblivious of her screams. Her untried ass-hole was deliriously tight, tighter even than his little daughter's sweet cunt, and fiercely hot. His every impulse was to slam hotly, mercilessly, into her and to plunge as deep as he could into her blazing rectal sheath. He began to whimper with the keen pleasure of it, and sweat dripped from his body as he labored to fill her tiny ass-hole.
Karen sank back against him, shivering with fright and pain, knowing she could not escape this final punishment. Dazedly she looked in the mirror and saw her husband, red-faced and grunting, as he fucked her ass-hole with his thick, hard cock. She saw the bright bloodstains on his shaft, evidence of her raped flesh, and suddenly the pain was gone. This brutal fucking, the blood, his sweaty, powerful body raping her tender ass, all filled her with intense excitement, the perverse joy of being used and punished. She began to appreciate the gigantic stuffing and deep probing of her tight ass-hole, and violent waves of pleasure rippled though her belly. She quivered against him and began to work her round white ass up and down on his thick cock, whining shamelessly.
"Yes," she moaned, "fuck my ass, Tom, it's good ... so good ... hurt me, I don't care ... harder, I like it that way ... ah, God, yesss!"
Tom was horrified at her perverse enjoyment of this brutal rape, but it was too late to stop. He didn't want her to enjoy it, he shuddered to think what she might demand of men in the future, but his body was carried away by the intense pleasure of fucking her tight, hot ass, and he couldn't bear to stop.
He fucked her even faster, harder, and felt her blazing ass-hole tightening around his straining cock. Then she was coming like never before, a howling, writhing wild woman screaming obscenities as her lush body convulsed and shook. Her tight ass milked and squeezed his huge cock, and he couldn't hold out. Hot cum raced from the slitted mouth of his prick, bathing her rectal depths, and he howled helplessly as the blinding orgasm struck him.
It seemed to go on a long time, and then they slumped to the floor together, his squirting prick still trapped in her gripping little ass-hole. It slowly slipped from her, stained with her blood, and Tom gazed at it, aghast at what they had done. What horrified him was not that he'd fucked his wife in the ass, but that he'd gloried in her pain and that she had wanted him to hurt her. That was the ugly part, the part they couldn't forget. There was no need to discuss it, for Karen understood, too. She lay very still beside him.
At last Tom said, "I think it would be best if Meg went to live with my mother. She's a good woman. If anyone can save Meg, it'll be her."
"Yes," said Karen, "that would be best."
She got to her feet and began dressing, choosing the stylish suit she usually traveled in. "Where will you go?" Tom asked.
She shrugged. "It's not so much where I go it's what I'll do. I can't escape the kind of person I am. I'm going to admit it, and I'm going to live that way. I don't care where."
Tom nodded. He envied Karen for at least knowing what direction she would take. It might lead her into unknown depths of degradation, but at least she knew what she wanted. He didn't. He could no longer be a minister, but he didn't know what he'd be now. He didn't even know what he wanted.
As if reading his thoughts, Karen said, "Don't worry, Tom. You'll find it someday."
"Will I?" he said. And in spite of her final kindness, he didn't believe her.
