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From: "Martina Lee" <susanasue@hotmail.com>
Subject: Porno Queen (Part 2 of 6/17 from Oh, Susana) FM, video, FM, mast.
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This is the sixth chapter of my book of short stories, collectively 
entitled "Oh, Susana". I am posting all 17 chapters, including reposts 
of the four chapters submitted previously. Please feel free to comment. 

WARNING: This is adult entertainment only, dealing with sex and sexual 
subjects in explicit language and detail. If you are under age for that 
kind of thing, leave now. This story, and others in the Oh, Susana 
series, may be reposted on ASSM, and redirected to ASS, but may not be 
put to commercial use by anyone but myself. I am willing to discuss them 
on ASSD or you can email me at <susanasue@hotmail.com>

Oh, Susana!
The erotic adventures of a South Seas sexpot
by Martina Lee



6. Porno Queen (Part 2) (NOTE: This won't make much sense unless you've 
already read Part 1. Susana, her husband and her lover are watching the 
videotape they have just made in the bedroom. -- Martina) 

The Kiss. The Bed. Peter's shirt falling to the floor. Susana on the 
bed, impatient, inviting. "Love me." Peter bending to work his feet out 
of his trousers, then scrambling between her legs and bending to kiss 
her again. The gap between their bodies, in closeup, Susana's fingers 
drawing down the front of his pants and fondling his cock. Tugging, 
stroking. His cock — a dark, drooping, rubbery hose, morphing under her 
ministrations into a stiff and shining mahogany shaft, a fat 
blunt-tipped arrow neatly bisecting the obtuse angle formed by belly and 
thigh. 
Neil slipped his left hand under Susana's arm and cupped her breast. 
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she tiptoed her own left hand 
across his thigh and explored the mound in his laplap. It gained in 
stature, straining against the bright cotton fabric. 
On the screen, Susana, naked now, and Peter on his back, his cock 
twitching as she works his pants down his legs. Then half-kneeling on 
the bed, leaning over him to milk his prick, glancing briefly at the 
camera, then bending lower and covering him with her mouth. A low shot, 
in close-up, her lips sliding smoothly down the glistening shaft, down, 
down, then up, up until they clear its swollen tip. Then down, down 
again to her fingers girdling its base. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. She 
stares brazenly at the audience, laves the tip with her tongue, and her 
eyes sparkle as she plunges again, moving her hand away and diving, 
diving until her lips are nested firmly in wiry pubic hair.
Peter choked on his beer and Susana swung her attention from the TV to 
look at him. His face was flushed, his eyes were riveted on the screen, 
and his state of mind was clearly evident from the bulge in his 
bathtowel. Susana turned her head and licked Neil's throat. He shifted 
carefully in his seat, unhitching the laplap from around his waist as he 
settled into a semi-reclining position, and she folded back the 
overlapping layers of cloth to get at his cock. It sprang into her hand, 
hot and hard. He squeezed her breast, rolled the erect nipple in the gap 
between thumb and forefinger, and she wriggled contentedly, sliding her 
head down his chest to rest on the warm, softly curving swell of his 
upper abdomen. She blew gently on the veined upper surface of his cock, 
pressed it backwards and trapped the knob lightly between her lips.
Her voice from the TV, urgent, demanding: "Fuck me now. Fuck me nicely." 
The business with the bolster, cutting to a gynaecologically clinical 
closeup of her cunt, her fingers parting the purplish petals of her 
labia to reveal the glistening blood-red bud of her clitoris, the 
swollen urethra, the yawning yearning void of her vagina. Peter between 
her upraised legs, sliding his slug slowly into her slit and then, 
spurred on by her entreaties ("Fuck me. I need to be fucked"), settling 
into a spring-loaded rhythm of rapid thrust and recoil. Another closeup 
— her head, raised off the pillow, lips parted and panting, eyes bright 
and focused intently on the action, revealed as the scene switches to 
the shadowy notch between her parted thighs. Peter's prick, pounding her 
pussy.
Neil's cock stirred in Susana's mouth and he squeezed her nipple. She 
rolled her head against his belly, her lips sliding further down the 
shaft, then rolled back to her original position and nibbled gently at 
the knob. Her voice from the TV, breathless, teasing: "Love . . . to . . 
. be . . . FUCKED . . . Love . . . your . . . great . . . big . . . 
stiff . . . cock . . . in . . . my . . . pussy!"  She flicked another 
glance at Peter, and caught him coaxing his erection into a more 
comfortable attitude beneath his towel. She chuckled softly, treated 
Neil to another tour of her mouth, and returned her attention to the 
screen.
Susana on her hands and knees, Peter on his knees behind her, his big 
hands grasping her hips, his cock cycling steadily in and out of her 
cunt. "Film her face. She laughs at me when I come. I want her to see 
what SHE looks like." Susana's face, front on, from bed level. Filling 
the screen. She grins mischievously at the audience. Eyes crossed, 
tongue protruding. Then her head is jerked back and her eyes widen in 
shock. Her mouth gapes, and her breathing breaks up into explosive 
bursts. "Yes," she sobs. "Fuck me harder. HARDER." A longer shot, Peter 
looming over her like a mad charioteer, his fingers tangled in her hair, 
his face contorted with exertion. Susana moaning, one hand on the bed, 
the other tucked beneath her belly. "Fuck. Cock. Yes. Cunt. Shit. Yes, 
shit. Yes. Yess. Fuck me. Harder. HARDER. Shit. Fuck. 
ShitshitshitcuntFUUUUCK!" Zoom. Her face, again in closeup, is barely 
recognisable in the throes of orgasm.
Susana couldn't watch. She closed her eyes, blotting out the ugliness, 
recalling the ecstasy, trying to shut out the animal sounds that surely 
couldn't have sprung from HER throat. Bastards, she thought. I hate them 
both. Then she giggled, tongued the tip of Neil's cock, and took it on a 
round trip to her tonsils and back. It proved such a popular excursion 
that she mentally sold him another ticket and went round again. And 
again. Then, ignoring his muttered pleading, she levered herself 
upright, swung her legs to the floor, and reached for her wine. She 
drained the glass, offered it to Neil and told him: "More." He heaved 
himself to his feet, pulling his laplap around him, took the glass and 
disappeared into the kitchen. Peter's voice from the TV: "Suck it, 
trollop. Suck it off."  Susana hitched her bottom forward to the edge of 
the cushion, lay back and spread her legs, toyed with her pussy as she 
watched herself worshiping at Peter's feet and then taking his cock in 
her mouth. In his chair, Peter was still engrossed in the screen.
Neil's voice: " . . . hands. They get in the way of the shot. Just use 
your mouth." Her mouth, lips pulled back to reveal her teeth, diving 
dangerously on to Peter's dick then dutifully following orders (Neil's 
voice: "Out, all the way out, so I can see the tip. That's right. Lick 
your lips. Now in again. More. More. Out. In") and settling into a 
steady cadence of long, slow strokes. Peter's face in closeup, staring, 
panting: "Oh shit, yess. Fantastic. Suck me off."
Neil returned from the kitchen bearing drinks, handed a can of beer to 
Peter, placed another by the end of the couch, and offered Susana her 
glass. She lifted her hand from her crotch, took the wine, drank half of 
it, then handed it back. As Neil bent to place the glass on the coffee 
table she reached for his laplap and pulled it off, noting with 
disapproval that his erection had subsided. She motioned him back on to 
the couch beside her, and he sat on the edge and lay back. Susana took 
his left hand and laid it between her legs, then slipped her right arm 
under his left arm and closed her fingers around his sleeping dick. It 
squirmed happily at her touch and began to wake up. Neil slipped an 
affectionate finger into her slit and tickled the rim of her vagina. 
Onscreen, Peter is coming. He clutches his face, his body trembles. 
Susana stops in midstroke, pulls back from his cock, gripped tightly in 
her left hand. A suspicion of semen bubbles out of the corner of her 
mouth. She pumps his prick, flinches as it spits in her face, opens her 
mouth and leans closer, pumping again. Extreme closeup: Susana's pale 
pink tongue beckoning from between her gaping lips, the gleaming brown 
bulbous tip of Peter's cock, the momentary flash of steaming semen 
leaping the gap like a liquid spark.
Disgusting, thought Susana, and licked her lips, as on the screen 
Peter's cock coughed up more sperm into her eager mouth. Neil's dick 
staggered erect in her hand and she gave it a friendly squeeze. He 
responded by plunging two fingers into her cunt. She frigged him gently 
and he matched her rhythm, his fingers shuttling in and out making soft 
slurping-plerping noises. Truly disgusting. She smirked to herself and 
frigged a little faster. Peter tore his attention from the screen and 
looked fishily in their direction. Susana fluttered her tongue at him 
and spread her legs wider to improve his view of Neil's hand in her 
pussy. He took a pull at his beer, fingered his crotch, and watched 
impassively for a minute or so before turning back to the TV.
Round Two. Susana's head a veritable blur of motion, her lips pulling 
and tearing at Peter's magically resurrected prick. Peter's face, a 
sweat-streaked study in agonised concentration, nameless emotions 
chasing each other across his features like clouds in a hurricane. 
(Susana, on the couch, sniggered and eased her grip on Neil's straining 
dick, tried a new tactic of sliding her circling fingers slackly up and 
down its entire length. He showed his appreciation by sliding a third 
finger into her cunt, then the fourth, and driving them in as far as 
they would go. Plerp. Plop. Plop. Plerp-slurp-plop. Disgusting. She 
placed her left hand on top of his, prodded his thumb into the pack, and 
screwed the whole lot deeper into her pussy. PLERP-plop-plerrrp.) Long 
shot: Peter, arched backwards like a bow, all aquiver, his chin pointing 
at the ceiling, his hands on his buttocks, his pelvis pushed forward 
while Susana, on her knees, works on his cock like a frenzied 
woodpecker. In out in out in out. Faster. Faster. Deeper. Deeper. 
Deeper. Close-up: Susana's head, suddenly still, lips clawing at the 
base of Peter's prick. Peter screams — "FUUUUUCK!" — and her head jerks 
back about five centimetres, then drives forward again. Back. Forward. 
Forward. She snorts, gags, and semen spurts past her lips into Peter's 
pubic hair. Back. Forward. Back. Back. Forward. Back. She lifts her head 
from his cock, turns her face to his. Her lips, chin and cheeks are wet, 
speckled with sperm.
Susana tugged at Neil's tool, called slyly to Peter, echoing the 
sound-track: "Like that, my lord?" Mouth agape, he turned to look at 
her, and grinned. His gaze flicked across Neil's lap, briefly noting the 
activity there, then focused on her crotch and Neil's bunched fingers 
and thumb driving slowly in and out of her cunt. His eyes widened. "You 
like THAT, my lady?" he mimicked. Susana jounced her hips, drawled: "You 
betcha, bub." She spread her legs even wider, grabbed Neil's hand and 
forced it in deeper than ever.
Peter in near-collapse on the edge of the bed, shivering, drenched in 
sweat, blinking and wincing as Susana, smiling beatifically, prods his 
worn-out wick as if testing for signs of life. Finding none, she turns 
to the camera, wide-eyed and innocent. "Did I do good?" Neil's voice: 
"You've got goo on your face." Closeup as she gathers the larger gobs 
with her fingers and pops them into her mouth. She licks her lips, 
smirks smugly at the audience, and asks again: "Did I do good?" The 
screen goes blank.
After a few moments, Peter got to his feet and switched off the TV, then 
pressed the stop button on the camcorder. He glanced at the Porno Queen, 
at her fingers resting lightly on the back of Neil's hand as it rummaged 
rudely in her frothing pot, at the languid pumping of her right hand 
wrapped loosely round Neil's reddening prick. "I need to pee," he said, 
and walked into the bedroom.
Susana poked her tongue at his vanishing back, then plucked Neil's hand 
from her cunt, let go of his cock and stood up. She cleared the things 
off the coffee table, turned and sat on the edge, facing Neil, lay back 
and spread her legs. Then she raised a hand, pointed peremptorily at her 
pussy, and gave the order: "Eat me." Neil sat up and slid to his knees, 
wedging himself between couch and crotch, and bent to the task. Susana 
sighed as he soothed and softly sucked her swollen labia, his cunning 
tongue flicking out at intervals to massage her clitoris or slither 
around the stretched and stinging verge of her vagina. Peter appeared in 
the doorway and she beckoned to him. "Kiss me," she said. As he bent to 
oblige, she tugged the towel free of his waist and let it fall. He was 
naked beneath it. "Now," she said. "Sit down. Watch." 
Peter settled back into his chair and sipped his beer, his eyes on 
Neil's head bobbing gently in her crotch. More out of devilry than 
desire, although there was that too, Susana began to moan and roll her 
hips. She turned her head to watch Peter surreptitiously from beneath 
lowered lashes, noted that his cock was once again showing signs of 
interest, and moaned louder, more urgently. Neil intensified his 
efforts, licking and sucking. Susana's hands roamed her breasts and 
belly, stroking, pinching, caressing. Peter's dick rose cobra-like from 
between his legs as if to get a better view. His hand scuttled across 
the top of his thigh, nudged at the shaft and withdrew in guilty 
confusion. Susana raised her concealing lashes and lowered the boom. "Do 
it," she said. "Pull your prick."
Peter circled his cock with thumb and forefinger, and pumped. It drew 
itself up to its full height and puffed out its hood. Neil's tongue 
found an especially sensitive spot and Susana shuddered. Her chest 
heaved, her legs shook and she plucked passionately at her nipples, 
gasping and grunting. She grabbed Neil's head, mashed his nose into her 
damp and trembling pubic mound, then pushed him away. "Fuck me," she 
panted. "Fuck me now."
Neil got to his feet and stood looking down at her, his cock sniffing 
the air. Susana raised her legs and rested the backs of her ankles on 
his shoulders. He moved over her, folding her double, her legs 
supporting his chest and his dick slipping unerringly into her cunt. He 
dug deep, shifted his weight slightly and dug deeper, drew back and 
rammed into her again, finally settling into waltz time, his hips 
slapping into her upturned buttocks twice between every withdrawal.  
IN-in-out, IN-in-out — Susana gasped again, turned her head to check on 
Peter. He had slid lower in his chair, his eyes were narrowed, watchful, 
and the hand tugging at his tool slipped into exact synchronisation with 
Neil's three-step thrusting — PULL-pull-slide, PULL-pull-slide. 
Susana reached up a hand and touched Neil's cheek. He huffed with 
exertion and stepped up the tempo, whirling her away on a mad Gay 
Gordons — ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three — hair flying, 
eyes flashing, ROUND-and-and ROUND-and-and ROUND-and-and . . . she 
scrabbled at the table-top, soared into the timeless void of orgasm, 
abandoning the shameless shuddering shouting shell of her body, to run 
giggling through the galaxy gathering stars and discovering the Meaning 
of Life Itself. Hours, days, years later she returned, fitted herself 
back into her flesh and forced herself to concentrate. Neil, dear sweet 
Neil, was still looming over her, sweat dripping off his face on to her 
breast, his dear sweet dick still pounding relentlessly at her 
palpitating pussy. Susana smiled fondly at him and found her tongue. 
There was so much to tell him!
"Fuck me," she moaned. "Oh, shit, yes, fuck me more."
Neil transferred more of his weight to her legs and shifted his dick 
into overdrive. Susana rolled her head from side to side, caught sight 
of Peter, his eyes glassy, staring, his hand beating rapidly, 
mechanically, at his king cobra cock. "Come," said Susana. "Come now." 
She opened her mouth and licked her lips at him, teasing, cajoling. 
"Come now. Come." Clear fluid spilled from the tip of his cock and he 
smeared it around the shaft, beat faster. Neil nickered, lost his 
rhythm, shoved, groaned, and slumped heavily against Susana's legs, his 
cock twitching deep inside her cunt. Peter pumped furiously, closed his 
eyes, shook his head, arched his back and came, spattering himself with 
sperm from chest to knees. Susana chuckled quietly and waggled her tail. 
Sperm trickled around the cock in her cunt, leaked over the lip of her 
vagina, tickled its way south — and she climaxed again.



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