Chapter 3
By mutual agreement Doug and Val took separate planes back to California. It had been a wild three days. He had almost lost control of the negotiations because of Val. She wore him to a nub at night. He would awaken with her mouth glued to the head of his prick, her hands roaming over his excited body.
No man could resist her, he was sure of that. She moved like a siren. She was a witch. Her vagina had more tricks than a used car dealer.
During the day, his mind always drifted back to the previous evening. It had taken all his willpower to keep his mind on the business at hand. He succeeded, but only through a stroke of luck. He owed his success to Val, strangely enough.
Unlike Gwen, she had a ravenous interest in his work, and pumped him full of questions about the negotiations. When he told her the major problem, she asked him who the labor representative was. He told her. She smiled and said that tomorrow afternoon, after the lunch break, he was to suggest to Mister Walter Bruno, the labor negotiator, that he would meet fifty percent of the demands over a five year period. And no more. That inflation and a spiraling economic disaster awaited not only labor, but management if he continued with his extortion.
Doug remembered laughing. He had tried the flag waving many times before. It never worked. He told her he had covered that ground already and that his people were ready to let the unions strike if necessary.
But Val had insisted. She had made him promise. And the next day, just for the pure hell of it, he had made the offer which Bruno-a bear of a man with thick hirsute arms and a face that looked like a conglomeration of Golden Gloves losers-had agreed to! Doug still couldn't get over the beauty of it. Val, with her beginner's luck, had helped him solve a problem that would be a feather in his cap. He owed her something. He didn't see her that day, but he would thank her in his own way when he got home.
There was one residual problem. Gwen. He wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Val had told him it was a one-night stand. But it turned into a three-day stand. Neither talked about the arrangement. They both supposed, he thought, that once back in California it would all be water under the bridge. At least, that's what he told himself. He really wasn't sure. His life was constructed around a base of certainties. Val was the first uncertainty he had encountered. She was generous with her body and her interest in his work. She made him feel like a young man again. She was coarse and rough at times, sweet and tender at others. He couldn't anticipate her next word or move. One minute she was lying in the crook of his arm purring like a cat, the next she was on top of him, her cunt poised over his face, asking him to kiss the sweetest lips in town.
She wasn't obscene. Not in a pornographic sense. She was exciting, vivacious, effervescent. Their time in bed was a time not to be wasted, and she had wasted not a second of it. She had taught him things about sex that he had once imagined could only be enjoyed by the sexually perverse. But she had made them so incredibly natural and fluid that he accepted them with the same ease and eagerness as he accepted a Supreme Court reversal, when, of course, that reversal was to his and his clients' favor.
Yes, Val had given him another dimension. And a hard-won victory at the negotiating table. He would have to be cautious when he saw Gwen. He didn't want her to know. He knew she was discontent with Golden Hills. She wanted to be in the Jet Set, not in an executive community. If she suspected anything between them, she might blow her top. He couldn't afford that now. Even though he wished he could. And there was Harry. He liked Harry, but now that like took another layer. Jealousy perhaps? He couldn't be sure. Maybe it was admiration or envy. He would have to be careful around Harry, too. He didn't want a messy scandal on his hands. Not that it would mean much these days, but a split-up would require a lot of time in court, and one thing he needed to cement his position in life was time. Time to win more and more cases so he could reach his goal-his own law firm-before he was thirty-three.
As the plane winged its way over the Black Hills, Doug Stillman pressed his face against the porthole and stared down at the rolling mountains. He still couldn't get over the way Carl Bruno had agreed to the simplest of arguments. He turned back to the Sports Illustrated and flipped the pages restlessly. Gwen would be waiting at the airport. He was anxious to see her-to see if he would feel guilty.
Carl Bruno was shirtless. His hairy back was turned toward Val, who sat on the couch with her long, tapered legs crossed so that the insides of her thighs flashed into view.
"You know, I didn't think you'd come back," Bruno grunted, filling his glass with beer and turning. He rubbed the thick hand across his barrel chest to his armpit.
"A deal is a deal, Mister Bruno," Val said, a smile resting lightly on her face.
Bruno shook his head. He wasn't an ugly man. He wasn't handsome, either. He was huge and primitive, with a broad, low forehead, bushy black brows, and a flattened nose that sat off-center.
His beard was a thick black shadow popping out along the square jaw and drawing tightly around his long flared sideburns. His eyes were nimble. They were measuring Val's expression with a deadly sense of calculation.
"I didn't think you would be back after the other afternoon."
"I'm a professional," Val said, accepting the glass of beer that Bruno had just taken a healthy drink from. She saw the sly grin growing against his veal-colored lips. "No, not that kind of a professional, Mister Bruno. A professional woman."
"You said you didn't work for that California faggot. I don't believe you."
"Does it matter?"
Bruno sagged down next to her. He pushed her black hair away from her neck, letting his fingers squeeze roughly against her cool flesh.
"I guess not. But I was surprised that he would use a cunt. That's all."
"Business is business, Mister Bruno."
"Call me Carl."
"Business is business, Mister Bruno."
He laughed. The sound came from the deep circular well somewhere below his belt. "You're all right, baby. Got a mind and body of your own. Now," he said, letting his hand slide down her arm, "you tell me why you did it if you aren't working for him."
Bruno's eyes were excited, as though they anticipated a lie through which he could see the truth. Val had her answer ready.
"He's a close friend. That's all."
"You mean you fuck him, right?"
"If you want to put it that way."
"The two of you got one of those California things going. Everybody gets everybody else's wife. like a sexual Mafia?" Bruno laughed at his own suggestion.
"I owed him a favor, Mister Bruno. Some people like to keep their debts paid. I happen to be one of them. That's why I'm here a second time. Your lunch the other day was only a down payment. I'm here to pay in full now."
Bruno licked his lips. He wasn't listening. He was looking. His eyes flowed over Val's thick, strong breasts. He saw her flat stomach pulsing as she breathed lightly. She was a cool one, he thought. No fear, no hesitation.
The other day when she came to his room and made the proposition, he couldn't believe it. He had orders to go for a sixty percent increase over a three-year period. Her proposition would put him in trouble, but she had her ways of convincing him. Such subtle ways. And when she was through, he figured it was worth sticking his neck out. Times were bad anyway. And the concession wasn't really that big.
"So now you're here again," Bruno said, taking the nearly empty beer glass from her. There were a few foamy bubbles stuck to her thick, sensual lips.
"I'm here. And I'm willing."
She slid away from him, turning so that her body was facing his greedy eyes. He watched as she slowly caressed one button after another.
"My body is a tool, Mister Bruno. Your mind and drive are your tools. We work toward the same goal-mutual pleasure." She paused, pulling the top of her dress open. She wore a lacy black bra that lifted the huge swollen breasts to an unbearable peak. Bruno felt the warm air pulse against his temples. Sweat balls dropped from his thick, hairy armpit, rolling down his ribs and soaking into his trouser waistband.
Val continued, cupping the mounds as she spoke. "You see, I love sex. I love it with a passion, Mister Bruno. The other day you thought you would take advantage of me. But you didn't. You thought that nice, long, thick cock of yours up my ass would hurt. It didn't. You see, some women love sex as much as men, Mister Bruno."
She was spinning the web. Her voice rose and fell like wind playing through a grove of aspen. The man stared, his eyes narrowing as she reached around to unlatch her bra.
"Yesterday, you took me. Now, I'm going to take you. You like that idea, don't you, Mister Bruno?"
Bruno's mouth was parched. He had had his share of women. But they were always the same. They were things and cunts without any brains, without any spunk. And if they had the two, they usually didn't know how to put them together in the proper proportions. But this one did. He knew it yesterday when she came. He knew it by the way she held her head, by the way she tantalized him with her wet lips, by the way she egged him on and on until he thought she would suck every ounce of fluid from his body and he would dry up like a leaf in autumn.
This was a real woman. She would be worth every minute of explanation that his peers would demand for letting the negotiations go for a pittance.
Val shrugged the dress from her shoulders. She lifted the bra over her coiffured hair. The dimples on her breasts popped into view. The stiff rubbery tips reached out like erasers from the tips of her sharp mounds.
"My body is my virtue, Mister Bruno," she said, standing and staring at the sweating man. He wasn't so bad, she thought. He was primitive. When he touched her she thought back eons ago when human beings roamed the wilderness like apes, taking what they wanted, leaving what they disliked. His body was rough and crude against her smooth, velveteen flesh. His hands were rugged, frantic, unrefined probes seeking touch and smell. The thought of his nearness made her groin shiver with excitement.
Val stepped out of her dress. She left the garters and stockings on. Her panties were custom-made, with a small hole in the crotch the size of an egg. Around the hole were short, sharp bristles that would stroke the sides of his fat slug-like cock and make him feel things that he had only imagined.
She stepped close, her black high-heeled shoes placed between his feet. He was frozen on the couch, eyes fastened on the two cheery eyes that stared out at him. The panties were translucent. Her black, shiny pubic hair was clearly visible.
"I'm going to climb up on your shoulders, Mister Bruno. I'm going to stick my cunt in your face and let you eat me. Then I'm going to climb on your cock and fuck the shit from your ass."
Bruno wheezed. His rubbery lips were elastic. His hands reached out to touch her flaring hips. She lashed out, slapping the backs of the hairy paws.
"Don't touch me. I'll touch you. A bargain, Mister Bruno. Yesterday you fucked me. Today, I agreed, I'd fuck you."
Carl Bruno glared at her for a moment. Then his eyes softened to a humorous glint. "like I said, lady, a real shrewd businesswoman you are."
Val tossed her head back. She grabbed his hammy shoulders and mounted the couch, positioning her cunt over the wide face. She could feel his hot breath beating on her panties. Electric sparks showered through her. He was a beast, she thought. A sexual throwback from centuries past.
Bruno knew he could take her if he wanted. He could wrap his burly arms around that slim waist, throw her down on the floor and fuck her until her cunt was a warm, mushy pool of softened pudding. But that wasn't the game. The game was something new and exciting. It was dominance. It was agreement. So he didn't touch her. He let her move into him. He let her knees climb up on his shoulders; let her hands tilt his head back; let her fingers reach into his mouth for his tongue.
He let her pull the tongue out and rub it against the bristle-lined opening of her cunt. The sharp brush-like fur startled him for a moment before he recognized its purpose. He tried to smile, but it was difficult with his mouth open.
She had his tongue pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She rubbed the tip over her clit, making wet mewing sounds in her throat as the organ jabbed and stroked her sensitive clit.
She tasted like no other woman. There was a sweet raspberry flavor to her hole.
"Now," she said in a husky voice, her fingers slipping off the tongue, "work it in, Bruno. Work it way in."
Bruno reached up and pressed the flats of his palms against her ass. Without asking, he knew it would be all right. The rules were opaque, but he knew them instinctively. She would only protest if he took the upper hand. Anything else was Hoyle.
Her ass was firm. He liked the satin feeling of her panties as he dug his fingers into the swells and pulled down. Her parted thighs resting on his shoulders weren't painful. They pressed into the yoke of his neck, making his muscles quiver. His tongue slithered snake-like into her twat. The lips munched at the tip, grinding it around like a noodle. He lanced it farther until it curled upward into the hollow of her vagina. There, resting with the tip hooked like a barb, he began sawing it in and out. She picked up the tempo, driving down with his upward thrusts.
The room was full of squishy noises and ragged breathing. Unconsciously, Bruno worked the blunt tips of his shovel-shaped fingers toward her anus. He was shoving them into the crack, trying to push the satin covering up her ass when he heard her sharp recrimination.
"Don't touch!"
He jerked his fingers away, almost ashamed of losing control. His tongue was stiff and moving with lightning speed. He could feel her bristles exciting the nerves on the underside of his tongue.
Above him, he could see her tits swaying and flopping as she danced on his shoulders, her hips shimmying this way and that; her cunt knotting and unknotting around his tongue.
Suddenly she stiffened. He felt the pinchers close around his slick organ and the cries cascade from her lips. Her fingernails, sharp filed arrows, pierced his scalp as she shuddered to fulfillment above him.
Slowly, the racking ceased, melting into an occasional tremor. Bruno released his grip on her buttocks. He withdrew his tongue, bringing out of her cunt the slimy juices and matted pubic hairs that had adhered to the organ.
"Now," she said, slightly out of breath, "stand up."
Bruno stood. His body was shaking. His face was a deep red. He fought to control his emotions. He wanted to grab her and throw her down right there on the floor, to take her like she had never been taken before. Yesterday he had fucked her ass just to test her. He wanted to see if her promise was worth the risk.
Val shook her head and reached for his belt. Her fingers trembled as she worked the wide bronzed belt buckle free. She pulled the trousers down, then the boxer shorts.
Bruno was hung like a horse. His rigid cock jerked upright. It was the thickest she had ever seen, with deep wrinkles around the head even when it was hard. The tip looked like a small clenched fist ready to knock someone cold. She reached for it, grabbing and twisting it roughly.
"Easy, bitch," Bruno shouted, starting to reach for her.
"Testing it," Val grinned, her eyes filled with delight. "Sometimes they're built like baseball bats and feel like cream puffs."
Bruno smiled and let her push him back onto the couch. He lay sunnyside up, her fist still curled around the staff.
"You're an ape," she said, slipping her cool palms up through his matted hair. Bruno smiled, barring the thick irregular white teeth.
She massaged him, not to excite him, for she knew he was ready any time, but to let her own body rebuild its desire. She stroked his oak-like thighs, running her fingers up the downy insides to the grapefruit nuts which she lifted and dropped with maddening deliberateness. She knelt beside him, kissing his wide tub-shaped stomach, burying her tongue in the deep recess of his belly button.
"You're a good businessman," she said, noticing that his hands were lifeless at his sides; that his face was masked with the twinges of a smile.
"I have to be. Or I don't get my cake and ice cream too."
"You'll get it, and more, Mister Bruno."
She slid her lips over his pubic triangle. Lifting her chest, she positioned her tumid nipple over his cock-slit. Her fingers pried the large sliver of flesh apart, until she could burrow the nipples down into it. Bruno groaned.
"Goddamn it, fuck me, bitch!" he hissed, his fists growing into rock-hard balls at his sides.
"Then it will be all over, Mister Bruno. Relax. You'll get your money's worth."
She changed nipples. Both picked up the leaking seminal fluid. She removed the tits and kissed the tip. Bruno grunted, thrusting his hips upward. She caught the head of his cock between her lips and sucked hard. Bruno's hands came to life. They grabbed the back of her head and shoved down. She felt the thick hardness ram against the back of her throat with such force that she almost gagged. Forcing her head away, she broke the grip and mounted him.
She knew better than to stop his roaming hands now. He was too far gone to be cut off with some sharp words. His fingers groped for her breasts. They closed tightly around the nipples, squeezing hard until pain registered in her brain.
She squatted over him, her quim splayed. Her right hand guided the prick to its target. She felt the massive head touch her lips, forcing them to widen. She eased down slowly, knowing that the pressure would be tremendous. She remembered the other day when he took her dog-style in the ass. It had been one of the most painful and exciting experiences of her life, but she had shown no signs of the agony. Once it was fully in, it was good. But the first six inches were the toughest. They were the ones she would remember when her mind and groin drifted into a long, sensual daydream.
"AAARRRGGHHH!! ! " she cried as she let her body sink down onto the staff. Bruno's face came up. His mouth locked on her tits. His fingers probed her ass.
He undulated his hips, smashing them upward into her. He could feel the sharp bristles biting at the tender sides of his dork. Each new thrust became a tingling, raw probe. Between the sharp bristles and masticating action of her vagina, Bruno was cast into a euphoric world of dripping desire. The woman's body was worming all over him. She shoved her tongue into his mouth. She sucked on his teeth, on his lip. Her fingers stabbed into his ear, nose, armpit, ass.
She moved every muscle. Everything was synchronized like a fine jeweled watch. Every movement was calculated to bring its utmost effect.
He could feel the come rocking upward. She had her hand around the two globes, squeezing and massaging them. She worked faster and faster. He rammed hard, sinking the head of his thick dick against her cervix. She whined. Her sweat dripped off her tits and mated with his.
His hands held the round halves of her ass like they were handles. He yanked her up, feeling every ounce of his pecker sliding into her.
Then it happened. The come started out in a furious eruption. It splashed into her womb, one blast after another like a long healthy piss.
His fingers squeezed until they bruised her flesh. His legs stiffened until cramps drove him to kick wildly in the air.
She was screaming. Her body shook convulsively. Her head was thrown back. Her eyes were glazed. Her mouth hung open.
He floated down through the rapids into the quiet lake. She lay on his chest, breathing with him, her breasts flattened against his hairy chest.
He could feel his cock softening inside her. It telescoped back, wrinkle by wrinkle, until just the head and an inch were inserted. She coughed and the slug popped out.
"Are you done?" he asked.
"Not quite," she said, licking down his stomach to the snotty pole. "A pussy never leaves a mess, you know."
Carl Bruno laughed as the vixen lapped his cock clean. He wasn't through with this chick, not for a long shot. If he had to follow her halfway around the world, he would. She wasn't going to be a one-night stand.