Chapter 11
There was a sudden flurry of laughter and squeals from the big screen and Alison and Bill, who had been intent on their question-and-answer analysis of Brad, looked up.
Ellen was on her knees, her thighs spread wide so that they could span the thick body of Twilley, who lay on his back. They could see his hard cock, hair growing up it thickly a matter of two inches from its broad base. His balls were drawn up tight, so that the extremely hairy notch of his ass cheeks and thighs was plainly visible. Three or four inches of his tool were buried in the almost hairless pussy above him and Ellen was wriggling, apparently trying to get all of his bulky meat into her narrow sheath.
Donna was on her knees near where the two bodies were joined and she was leaning over, across both sets of legs, to where Pebble also crouched. She had his prick in her hand and had apparently just released a load of saliva onto its head, which she was smearing around. As they watched, she turned away and they saw her face in profile as she ran her drooling tongue in the hairless valley between the tender globes of Ellen's ass. She looked up, face expectant.
"Get in there, Pebble," she said huskily. "It's all slicked and primed!" She reached around Ellen, apparently stroking her belly. "You'll love this, baby," she cooed. "This will send you right up the wall!"
She reached behind her to where Cagney, his tool stiff and ready, was sitting on his heels and gave his prick a pat.
"When I start sucking Pebble's balls," she said, the girlish voice coming loud and clear over the speakers, "I want you to slam it into me. Real hard. You dig?"
"I dig," Cagney said, smiling, his teeth white between his hairy lips. "Which hole?"
"Take your choice, baby!" Donna laughed. "It's a matter of free choice around here, I understand!" She looked directly into the camera, the location of which she had easily discovered, as she helped Pebble locate the rosebud anus of the young girl impaled on Twilley's prick. "Free choice, chief," she said, as though she were facing Bill in person. "That's right, isn't it?"
Bill rose and turned to Alison. He was composed. "As soon as this trick is over," he said in his normal voice, "pay these kids and see that they haul their asses out of here and back to the beach! Give them twenty apiece-no, make it fifty. Give them something to talk about to their pals, who won't believe a word of it."
He turned to the others. "Let's go out and have a drink, or some coffee. A bite to eat, if you feel like it. And Alison," he said, "make sure that these kids realize that this was a one-time shot. Tell them that if they ever come up my stairs again, they'll get a couple of broken legs. Okay?"
The tall girl stood near as Maida and Alice left. "Do you want Ellen out on the terrace, too, chief?" she asked. "She seems to have joined the party."
Bill grunted. "Up to her," he replied. "I think everything is fixed up with Donna and Brad-that's the main point."
"The reason for the party, really," Alison responded. "To get Donna and Brad shaped up."
"I was pretty sure of Brad, Alison," Bill said. "Donna was the one who needed help. Brad means a lot to her-he's her life, really. I want her to be a good wife for him."
Alison took in a deep breath. "I never really knew just how big a man you are, Bill," she said earnestly. "Or how much you deserve everything you've made for yourself. You're a great man!"
Bill swung a playful punch at her, striking her just under her naked breast. "Shut up!" he growled. "Maybe I am, in some ways. But you know I hate sentimentality!"
The evening had cooled rather abruptly, as it usually does along the coast of Southern California. Someone had activated a mechanism to raise a solid wall of clear plastic around the terrace, so that the ocean breeze was turned aside. Still, Donna was glad that she'd been able to locate her pareu. The air conditioning in the house had been just right, but it was much cooler out under the skies.
She stood in the big doorway, unnoticed for the moment.
Brad was sitting cross-legged on a wide divan with the redhead-what was her name? The initial introductions seemed so long ago-in another life almost.
She had met Alice, of course. And Maida and Alison. God, had she met Alison! She giggled, looking at the sleek blonde beauty of the tall, unruffled girl, who was serving something, ice cream, it looked like, into coconut shells.
Strange to think of that composed and lovely woman, on her hands and knees, with those perfect thighs and that beautiful pussy spread to take on a dog! Donna clenched her teeth to stop a shudder before it began. That dog, she thought. How savage, how uncaring about her or her feelings! No bullshit, no hypocrisy, no kisses, no sweet talk. But what a wild, crazy, out-of-the-world fuck!
She almost retched as she thought inevitably of the little dog, then squared her shoulders. Not only would she live with it, she'd be glad to live with the new understanding of her nature. What had Bill said? "By God, Princess, I knew you were a hot woman!" And so she was, hot right now, just thinking of the rank smell and taste of the small dog's prick, his jism. She could feel the hairy lips of her pussy drawing back, exposing those inner lips that were still crazy-tender.
She realized that she had made it this far like a sleepwalker, but now she was coming awake. Alison had helped her clean up and pulled the coverlet off the big bed. It was foul with come-juice and streaks of shit. Jesus! How that kid- Ellen, she called herself-had screeched when Pebble's prick had first jammed into her ass. It was a wonderful thing to see. She had seen, although not in any close-up detail, how Twilley's prick had jammed into her own ass. What a laugh! She had always that it would kill her-tear some tender muscles, leave her bleeding. What a crock of shit!
It was nothing. No, that wasn't true. It was really something, devastatingly pleasurable, once it got into you. It was the idea that was terrible.
Donna pulled her bare feet closer together. She had been walking with her legs spread wide, pampering a soreness more fancied than real. It wasn't soreness at all, she suddenly knew, just a tremendous awareness of her pussy, of how its lips felt when they rubbed together, of the deep feeling of stretch in it. And in her asshole. Actually, it felt lovely.
As she oriented herself mentally and physically, she realized that Bill was speaking. and of all things, he was talking calmly about the ice cream.
"It's made with coconut milk," he was explaining, in an ordinary conversational voice. "Wonderful stuff for a luau. A place in Tampa-or Ybor City, really, the Cuban community in Tampa. The Columbia Restaurant. I had them ship me ten gallons awhile back."
She looked at Bill, leaning against the wide stone balustrade, relaxed and quiet, the perfect host. But not quite like the conventional picture. He hadn't bothered to clothe his loins, apparently being unaffected by the cooler atmosphere of the terrace. He was completely nude, completely unself-conscious.
His hands were lightly braced against the low stone wall as he rested his buttocks against it and his legs were comfortably spread. From where she stood, Donna could only imagine the light, ginger-brown hairs on his legs, but she knew they were there, almost the same shade as his tanned skin.
Between his legs, neither hard nor soft, there hung that great bolt of meat. It seemed large and heavy, even in its quiescent state. And she knew how big, how frighteningly big, it was when it got hard.
Once more her mind reversed itself. Big, of course, but not frightening. She drew a deep breath and found herself drawing another, then another. Her heart speeded up its beat and the intensity of feeling between her legs became almost too much for her. She could actually feel a movement deep inside, a sucking quiver of muscle, a seepage of warm fluid out of her cuntlips. Her eyes moved up from his cock to his face and he was smiling directly at her. He'd been aware of her presence all along, she knew with certainty.
The movement of the others went out of her peripheral vision as she dropped her eyes to his cock again. Unless she was dreaming, it had grown larger.
No longer like a somnambulist, no longer walking with her legs wide apart, she started toward him, reaching down to pick up a cushion as she passed a wide bench.
When she got within a couple of feet of him, she carefully placed the cushion just at his feet, bent her knees, and balancing herself with the fingers of both hands, knelt on the cushion. She didn't look around at the others-indeed, it was as if they had ceased to exist. She looked up at Bill, as though asking permission and he smiled and nodded.
Without haste, she picked up the great organ, rolling the foreskin back from the purplish-red head. She fancied she could feel his heartbeats in the big vein which stood up on the upper surface, faintly blue under the soft white skin.
Crossing her palms, she lifted the tip of the big head to her lips. There was a clear drop of fluid in the slit that was so much like a little eye and she sent her pink tongue out to lick up this droplet. It was slick and very faintly saline and she closed her eyes the better to enjoy it and to enjoy the tremor of anticipation which flooded her body.
She rolled the skin back as far as it would go, squeezing the hardening column so that the head seemed full and slick and shiny. Her tongue went underneath, licking on each side of the taut cord that ran to the slit. There was a soft, rich residue of something-congealed semen probably, or that soft curd-like substance which gathers as the result of heat or friction or the natural rubbing away of delicate skin. She carefully licked these tiny and delightful morsels away from their hiding place, pressing them against her gums with her tongue.
As the rod became harder, Donnas' heart beat faster; her breathing grew shallow, panting, directed around and against the head, which by now was dark red.
Her tongue came out and rolled slowly around her lips, wetting them thoroughly and she inched forward to take the head in her mouth, pushing its softness against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, now hard with her desire. With slowly increased suction, she drew more and more of the throbbing hardness into her mouth, her saliva flowing so freely that a trickle of it ran out each corner of her mouth and she pursed her cheeks to hold it back.
As the big cock grew harder, choking her with its size, Donna purposely breathed deeper, being forced to take in breath through her nose and timing her inhalations to her forcing of Bill's organ into her throat.
All other action had halted as soon as Donna had begun her purposeful walk toward her husband's boss and only Brad had even so much as stirred since. Alison, an odd look on her face, continued to eat her ice cream, holding the shell up near her mouth, spooning the frozen confection into her mouth in small bites. There seemed to be a rhythm to her eating, as though it were connected by some wireless timing system to Donnas' measured back-and-forth movements on Bill's prick.
Even this movement stopped as Brad, slowly at first, then in a slightly picked-up tempo, walked across the long terrace toward his wife and his boss.
Donna was deaf and blind to all movement except her slow plunges down on the cock she was devouring and to the pounding of her heartbeats, which seemed most evident in her crotch. In her loins there was a tremendous heat and this fire touched every part of her. Her bare rump was settled on her heels and not even the chill which arose from the flagstones around her could diminish the waves of warmth that moved in her opened twat, almost raw from the friction it had received.
As Bill watched Brad draw closer, he motioned to Alison, his hand making a gesture toward his buttocks, so that she understood it was a chair he wanted. Her eyes lighted up and she brushed past Brad, bringing a low, cushioned seat, which Bill pushed behind him, with Donna blindly kneeing her way back far enough so that he could sit down. Her mouth followed his cock, and as the upper part of her body lowered, so that she rested her forearms on the chair, her ass came up so that she was, in effect, on her knees. The pareu had been caught somehow at her waist and her buttocks, bare and unadorned save for the dark-haired lips that protruded from between them, was directly in Brad's line of view.
He, too, had brought a cushion, and as Donna had a few moments before, he looked at Bill before he placed the small pad between Donnas' spread knees. Bill smiled and nodded.
The first that Donna knew of another presence was the soft tip of Brad's prick working into her pussy. It was a pleasant shock, but she did not cease her regular movement with her lips and tongue and head, rising and falling as she went down on the swollen tool, now starting an angry throb that seemed to come as the big head crowded her throat. It took all her concentration to maintain this steady movement as the hot head of her husband's prick pushed into her, stretching muscles weary and sore from too much fucking. Besides, it wasn't what she wanted. But she let Brad continue to push in and pull out, until she knew his cock was completely lubricated.
Then, by a quick waggle of her hips on his out stroke, she pushed his prick out and quickly, almost impatiently, pointed a scant inch higher in the crack of her ass.
Without a change of expression, Brad aimed his broad glands at the puckered brown sphincter, now slightly turned out to show a rim of pink membrane and moved his loins just enough to sink a couple of inches into the tight little hole, amazed that his entry should be so easy. It was actually looser than her vaginal opening. But, as he entered farther into her rectum, its ridged walls closed on him and the anal sphincter, fluttering with a sensation beyond Donnas' control, gave him an odd sense of having mounted some animal with an interior slicker and hotter than any human creature.
Fascinated by the feeling and by the consummation of an idea long held, he kept his eyes down, watching his cock move strongly in and out of his wife's asshole. There was a change in the coloring of the white column of his penis, a brownish-yellow film that shone in the light of the tiki torches. He watched the film become darker and the grip of Donnas' ass, seeming to grow tighter, increased the feeling of unbearable life and fullness all along his reproductive system.
He closed his eyes tightly, trying to fight down the rising tide of lust, desperately anxious not to do anything that would deflect Donnas' attention from her fellatio on Derwin. But suddenly he heard Bill's breath rise in sharp crescendo, heard Bill emit one deep, groaning sigh of satisfaction and he pumped furiously in and out, gripping Donnas' sagging haunches to hold her against him as his flood of sperm ebbed and flowed in her quivering bowels.
Without looking at either Bill or Donna or any of the rest, Brad got unsteadily to his feet, holding his prick carefully, with the other hand under it to catch the drip and made for the nearest bathroom.
After everyone else had said their good-byes and left, Donna and Brad stayed on. Both of them had dressed and Bill had slipped on a lightweight cashmere robe. One of the housemen had brought in a pot of fresh coffee and the trio sat comfortably on the terrace.
"I wanted you two to stay because, after all, you were the guests of honor," Bill said pleasantly. "And, while I am sure you heard about your promotion unofficially, Brad, I wanted to confirm it before you left. I hope you will make me happy that I chose you for the job. And I think you will. Does either of you have any questions?"
Brad felt he knew the answers to what he considered the really important questions: when he took over Max's office, how soon did the big salary begin, when did the Buick turn into a Cadillac? Knowing Bill fairly well, he assumed that the answer to all of these would be the same-immediately. So he decided that a touch of modesty might be wise and also might give him an important clue to what Bill expected of him.
"I don't know exactly how to put this, Bill," he said. "I don't want to appear to have less... well, less confidence than I should. I honestly believe I can handle the job... with some guidance. But... why me? I'm younger than either Larry or Tom and I have less time with the company. There are some facets of public relations I know very well-at least in my own opinion. Possibly biased." He laughed somewhat nervously.
"But I don't kid myself-I'm pretty young for a job this size. It might help if you told me why you picked me."
Bill grinned. "It's quite simple, really, Brad," he replied. "You have more of the drive to succeed than Larry or Tom or any of the hundred or so older men in the PR field in Santa Vaca who'd give their left arms to get this job. That means that you'll do everything that you know how to do in order to succeed and what you don't know, you'll try to learn. It means that, if you make errors, you'll survive and keep trying. That's worth more to me than experience, administrative knowledge, or a couple of college degrees. And don't worry-I'll give you guidance. Most of it, of course, will be telling you where you've gone wrong."
"I have a weird sort of idea-and forgive me if this is out of line-that this party, some of the things that happened, may have been some sort of final test," Brad observed. "Am I right on that, or wrong?"
Bill considered his reply. After a moment, he said, "Brad, every man in a position like mine wants to know that his key people can keep their heads under any kind of pressure-business, personal, social, financial. This was a little exaggerated, perhaps, both for you and Donna." He turned to smile at Donna, who sat quietly watching them both. "Both of you did all right."
"Was it some sort of test for me, too, Bill?" Donna asked. "Does a wife and her willingness to, uh, go through... well... different sorts of things... does that have a bearing on her husband's success? With Bonturat, I mean," she added.
Bill laid his hand on hers. "Donna, where you're concerned, this was a personal thing with me, where my interest was in you as a person, rather than as the wife of one of my executives." He looked away as though placing his thoughts in correct order and turned back to her. "I liked you from the start," he said, smiling, "but I thought you were, just possibly, not making the most of your God-given attributes. This is part of my belief that sex, enjoyed to the fullest, is what makes a life not only worth living, but a sort of victory over mediocrity. Donna, I had no doubts that you would be a good 'company wife,' because of your obvious qualities. But I felt that you deserved to reach for something more, to be a real woman. For your own sake."
Donna smiled. "I appreciate your interest, Bill," she said in a cheerful voice. "I'll let you know how it works out."
Derwin went with them to the door, an arm around each.
"I hate to see you driving a crummy old car like that Buick," Bill said. "Must be over a month old! Let's go trade it in tomorrow for a Cadillac!"
He slipped his hand under Donnas' arm and gave her breast an affectionate squeeze. "You're a great pair," he said seriously. "Donna, take good care of my new director of public relations. He's got a tough job-he's going to need a lot of loving care!"
Donna squeezed her arm down on his hand, pressing it more firmly onto her tit. "If I need any guidance, Bill," she laughed, "I'll come to you!"