Chapter 4
Amy felt unusually bright and confident when she reported for work the next morning, so much so that she found herself singing in the elevator on the way up. The night before she had bought all seven of the Primordial Ooze's hit albums, had listened to them all in order while Rick angrily moved the television set into the bathroom. She had hardly noticed. Although she wasn't necessarily a rock and roll fan her taste previously had run to the sugary sentimentality of Ray Coniff and Michel Legrand she had heard something in the Primordial Ooze's music, something that was at the same time both primitive and sophisticated, and she thought that it had given her some insight into Harry Bledsoe's deepest character.
She broke off her disjointed humming of "Boardwalk Blues" as she parted the oak doors and walked into Robinson and Klein's reception room. To her surprise, Mr. Robinson was there in the lobby, talking rapidly to Ginny as he signed a sprawl of contracts that was laid out on the receptionist's desk. He turned to look around, breaking off his conversation with Ginny as Amy walked in the door.
"Ah, Mrs. Barker," he said. "I've been waiting for you. Would you step into my office for a moment, please? I have something to discuss with you."
Ginny gave her a knowing wink as she passed by. "Talk to you later," she promised. Amy responded with a brief, business-like nod.
Mr. Robinson didn't even take time to sit down when they reached his office. "Mrs. Barker," he said, "I've been thinking over what you told me yesterday. While I admire your courage and confidence, I'm afraid I'm not going to want to be left in the dark about these transactions of yours. I really must insist that you tell me what's going on.
"Mr. Robinson," said Amy, "I understand how you feel, and I'm very grateful for your trust in me so far. But I'm not ready to reveal anything yet. Believe me, I have my reasons."
"Which are?"
"All right," she said, sitting down as Mr. Robinson did-likewise. "If I told you where the negotiations stand right now, I'm afraid you would give up on the project. Frankly, it doesn't look particularly good, or I should say, the only actual figure I've gotten so far is absolutely out of the question. But ... I've made one valuable contact already in Danny Richman, and today I'll be talking with Harry Bledsoe, the leader of the group. Just to have gotten that far is something of an accomplishment, because this Bledsoe is apparently a very eccentric character who almost never talks to anyone."
"Let me set you straight on something, Mrs. Barker. There are only two people in this organization who have the right to decide whether or not an offer is out of the question myself, and Mr. Klein. At no time did I grant you the authority to make such a decision, and if you were under the mistaken impression that I did, then I rescind it as of this moment. Now: what was Richman's offer?"
Amy shook her head. "If I tell you, Mr. Robinson, I'm afraid you would intercede in the deal, or call it off altogether. In either case a proposition that I consider entirely possible would be destroyed. I just don't want to give you a report until I have something concrete; we're really just beginning the negotiations. All I ask is that you give me another week. If I don't have results by that time you can send me back to the Dictaphone."
"You're a stubborn woman, Mrs. Barker," said Robinson, his face grim. "And stubbornness can be either a virtue or a defect, depending on the circumstances." He paused for a moment, turning his chair toward the window. Suddenly, he swung back to face her. "You have three days," he said. "If you don't have results in that time, then I'm afraid you will have gambled more than you thought. I won't send you back to a secretarial position, Mrs. Barker. I'll send you straight to an employment agency, and with a reference that will effectively blacklist you from any similar job in the future. Do you understand, Mrs. Barker?"
"Yes sir," Amy said. "And I appreciate it."
"Hm," said Robinson. "Just remember: three days."
Boy, thought Amy as she drove toward Bolinas, I really stuck my neck out this time. Maybe I should have just played it safe and told Robbie what he wanted to know even if it queered the deal I'd still have a job, and maybe another chance later on. But her instincts told her that it was now or never, that she could with this one project vault over several years of dull apprenticeship, and that all in all her ploy could turn out to be well worth the gamble. After all, she told herself, smiling as she thought of Danny Richman, I have some tools available to me that Robinson just doesn't have, no matter how good a businessman he is, or thinks he is. She felt her confidence returning as she passed through the redwoods that lined the highway at Forest Knolls.
Following Danny Richman's directions, she soon reached Bolinas and turned off on the dirt trail that led to Harry Bledsoe's secluded ranch. She stopped at the steel gate that barricaded the trail, and leaned her head out the window in the direction of the metal intercom.
"Who is it?" a voice squawked.
"Amy Barker from Robinson and Klein."
She heard a torrent of static, then the voice returned. "This ain't Jack-in-the-Box, lady," the voice said. "You'll have to speak up."
" Amy ... Barker ... from. ... Robinson ... Klein," she shouted.
"Got it that time," the voice said. "Okay, just hold it right there."
She waited for what seemed to be a full ten minutes, then the static returned, to be followed by the voice. "Turn right at the first fork," it said.
The huge steel gate swung reluctantly open, and Amy drove through. She turned right at the fork and followed the gravel trail up the slope of a hill, passing first through a small stand of redwoods and firs, then through an oak and madrone forest, and finally out into the sunlight at the top of the hill. Turning to look behind her, she saw the town of Bolinas spread out at the foot of the hill, seeming to inspect the passage of the lagoon as it met with the Pacific. Far below, a group of egrets took off, punctuating the deep blue of the Pacific with the flash of their snow-white wings.
"Quite a place," Amy thought to herself. "Not bad for a few weeks' work every year."
Continuing on the trail as it ran along the crest of the hill, Amy soon came upon the house itself, a huge redwood and glass structure that occupied the very highest knoll. A fourteen foot cyclone fence ran around the circumference of the yard, but the gate was already open. Whistling softly, she parked her car, got out, and walked to the front door.
The door was opened by a tall, brutal looking man with a shaved head who was wearing nothing but a bikini bathing suit, through which the bulge of his cock was readily evident. God, Amy thought, I hope that's not him.
"Mrs. Barker?" the man said, in a deep bass voice.
"Yes."
"Yeah, come on in. Harry'll be with you in a few minutes; right now he's down with the plants."
He showed her to a living room that could have passed as the nave of a cathedral: forty foot ceilings, and a huge expanse of glass overlooking the Pacific. She spent a few minutes admiring the view, then walked around the room looking at Bledsoe's collection of trinkets: a solid gold prayer mantra from Cambodia, death masks from Oaxaca, and ruby-studded dinner plates from Persia, all in all a small fortune in room decorations. The place could easily have been a museum, she thought.
Someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned to see a tall, athletic-looking man wearing a beautifully tailored Italian three-piece suit and a silk tie. He looked like an aristocratic businessman from Milan on his way to see his banker, except for one detail: he was barefoot. His hair was jet-black and neatly trimmed, and he sported a small mustache. Christ, Amy thought, another go-between. When do I get to see the real thing?
"Mrs. Barker?" the man said in a smooth voice. "I'm Harry Bledsoe."
"But ... " Amy blurted.
"I don't look like a rock star?" Bledsoe smiled. "Tell me, then, what is a rock star supposed to look like, so I'll be more appropriate the next time."
"Well ... "
"Like a scrofulitic, lice-infested, sequin-studded maniac, right?" He smiled again, charmingly.
"Actually, yes," Amy said.
Bledsoe chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said. "Would you like some tea?"
"No thanks," said Amy. "I just ... "
Bledsoe held up his hand. "No apologies, it's perfectly all right. We may as well get down to business. Danny tells me that Robinson and Klein is interested in doing a promotion with us."
"Exactly," Amy said.
"You know how we work? You know that we're impossibly expensive?"
"That's what I came to discuss," Amy said. "We would like to make a counter-offer."
"Mrs. Barker," Harry said. "We don't listen to counter-offers. In fact, no one has even thought to make us a counter-offer for several years now. Our price is our price."
"Well," said Amy, "I'm here with a counteroffer now, and you'd either have to plug your ears the real thing?
"Mrs. Barker?" the man said in a smooth voice. "I'm Harry Bledsoe."
"But ... " Amy blurted.
"I don't look like a rock star?" Bledsoe smiled. "Tell me, then, what is a rock star supposed to look like, so I'll be more appropriate the next time."
"Well ... "
"Like a scrofulitic, lice-infested, sequin-studded maniac, right?" He smiled again, charmingly.
"Actually, yes," Amy said.
Bledsoe chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said. "Would you like some tea?"
"No thanks," said Amy. "I just ... "
Bledsoe held up his hand. "No apologies, it's perfectly all right. We may as well get down to business. Danny tells me that Robinson and Klein is interested in doing a promotion with us."
"Exactly," Amy said.
"You know how we work? You know that we're impossibly expensive?"
"That's what I came to discuss," Amy said. "We would like to make a counter-offer."
"Mrs. Barker," Harry said. "We don't listen to counter-offers. In fact, no one has even thought to make us a counter-offer for several years now. Our price is our price."
"Well," said Amy, "I'm here with a counteroffer now, and you'd either have to plug your ears or leave in order not to hear it." Before Bledsoe could interrupt, she went on. "We will guarantee you 100 thousand dollars plus five percent of the gross for two shows at Candlestick Park." There, she thought, now it's his move.
"First of all," Bledsoe responded, "I'm sure you're aware that you're offering us exactly half of what every other promoter in the county has been happy to pay. Second, your firm, although I know their reputation in the business world in general, has absolutely no experience in promoting concerts, which all by itself makes it a bad deal for us. Concerts are incredibly difficult, you know."
"I know," said Amy.
"Third," Bledsoe continued, "at the price you're offering, which we'd never accept anyway, you would have to sell out both shows at something like $20 a seat just to break even, which would make it the most expensive evening of music ever offered the general public. We're very popular, but I doubt that even we could sell 100 thousand seats at twenty dollars. So you can see why I have to refuse your offer."
Amy immediately stepped over to where Bledsoe was standing and put her arms around his neck. "Are you sure?" she whispered in his ear.
Harry laughed. "Mrs. Barker," he said, "you must know that sex is a very mundane offer to a rock star."
"Is that so," Amy panted, beginning to do a slow grind with her hips, realizing at the same time that this was not a charade, that she really wanted Bledsoe.
He did not respond, but she noticed that his breathing was beginning to get a little ragged as she continued her slow teasing of his already-hardening cock. She leaned back a bit, being careful to maintain her lewd contact with his groin, and began to unbutton his suit jacket. Spreading it open, she brushed his firm, strong torso with her gentle fingers. It was, she reflected, much easier the second time.
"What do you think?" she asked softly. "Is it worth it?" She tipped her head back and looked into his frank brown eyes.
"It's still a little soon to say for sure," he countered.
"True," Amy agreed. She carefully eased his jacket back off his shoulders and down his arms. She hung it carefully over the back of a nearby chair. "But I'm confident you'll agree with me in the end," she said.
She released his emerald tie clasp, then attacked the neat knot at his throat. As she did, his strong hands gripped her shoulders, then slid down to her ribs. His fingers squeezed her, as if he were testing the durability of her diminutive body.
"I'm not a china doll," she informed him with a calmness that belied her inner turmoil. She stripped off his tie and hung it with the jacket.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she unbuttoned his vest and shirt to expose his chest, which was strong and smooth, with a sparse of black curly hairs.
He stroked his thumbs up over the gentle mounds of her breasts, pressing them through the smooth, cool fabric of her blouse. Her nipples were palpable hard lumps under the cloth. As he tormented those delicate buds, he marveled at the slight woman who was undressing him. Her petite, fine-boned form in his strong hands excited him immensely.
Amy spread his shirt open, running her fingers through the almost kinky hair, brushing them over his nipple. Then she leaned forward and nibbled at his chest, her working lips finding and nuzzling at one of his nipples. She ran her tongue around it, tasting his sweat. Suddenly she became conscious of his masculine cologne.
Pulling away, Amy pulled the shirt back off Harry Bledsoe's broad shoulders. As she did, he began unbuttoning her blouse. He paused a moment while she carefully hung his shirt up. Somehow, Amy knew she had to be meticulously careful with his clothes.
"Beautiful," Harry commented, stripping Amy's blouse off her. As he dropped it, his eyes swept over Amy's graceful, slender torso, pausing on the tips of her breasts, the line of her collarbone, the flatness of her stomach.
Amy couldn't meet his eyes. She hung her head slightly as he studied her. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but suddenly she was ashamed of what she was doing with it. She suppressed a shiver.
She tried to ignore this unwanted attack of regret, and reached for his belt. The silver buckle clinked musically as she unfastened it. She unzipped his tailored slacks and the fly spread open. The thrust of his already-throbbing cock pushed his underpants out. His hands were on her again, stroking and petting her silken skin, making her whole body burn with lust.
She wondered if whores felt like this with their customers. She had heard that to them, a fuck was nothing more than just business. Didn't they get hot, burn with passion? Why should she be any better than a common prostitute, any different from a call girl? Because she was enjoying what she was doing.
She knelt and tugged his pants down over his bare feet. After he had stepped out of them, she carefully shook them out as she stood up, then turned to drape them over a chair.
He took the opportunity to unfasten her skirt. It fell around her ankles and she was left in just her filmy panties.
By unspoken agreement, they faced each other as they reached for each other's last garment. Hands slipped inside underpants and panties, and pushed lower and lower into the mutual throbbing heat they encountered. Amy's light brown pubic bush eased into view, as did Harry Bledsoe's black one. His huge, pulsating cock leaped free of his underpants, stabbing straight at Amy's flat, delectable belly.
Then they were both nude, standing there a few inches apart, aflame with their salacious lust. Bledsoe swept Amy up against him, feeling the soft, yielding warmth of her pliant body against his, feeling his voracious cock slide upward along her smooth, tantalizing belly. He lowered his mouth to hers for a demanding kiss.
Amy spread her graceful, slender thighs and clasped on of Bledsoe's muscular ones between them. She scrubbed her wiry bush along his leg, grinding her warm crotch against him. Her tongue met and dueled with his. Then she was off her feet, being carried while the hungry embrace and exciting kiss went on, their legs tangling at every step. Reaching a secluded bedroom, they sank down together on the cool covers of an expansive bed.
Then big hands were fondling and probing and touching her as she sprawled on her back on the bed, and her burning lust made her forget everything else. There was no pretending to her voracious desire. Bledsoe was quickly discovering all the erogenous zones on her passionate, responsive body her aroused breasts and rippling belly, the sensitive insides of her thighs. And he wasn't gentle. He bruised her with his strength and size. He played with her the way a cat might play with a mouse, thumbing and punishing her on the big bed. And she loved it.
She was being driven mad by his passionate attentions. He twisted her already-erect nipples one after the other, and her breasts burst into flame. A hand pressed hard into her tender belly, and her aroused body writhed in desperate, eager response, her fingers clawing blindly at the oversized bed.
Suddenly, he stopped touching her. Amy's eyes snapped open with surprise and she rolled her head to look at him. He was lying languidly on his side, peacefully studying her with his steady brown eyes. His hair wasn't even mussed. The only sign of his interest in her was his monstrous, throbbing erection. His cock was larger in diameter than Danny's, and longer than Rick's. The pale skin of the huge tower gleamed like ivory against the lush black of his pubic bush.
"Wh ... what's the matter?" Amy croaked out. She was screaming with passion, and frightened at the sudden inactivity.
"I'm curious," the man answered. "I'm wondering what makes you tick."
"Huh?"
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, a sweep of his arm encompassing her gracefully nude body. "You're a salaried employee, there's no commission in it for you, so why are you taking all this trouble?"
Amy was shaken by the man's total control.
Why wasn't he pounding that big cock into her? Was she going to lose him now, after all this? "I don't see why that should concern you," she answered softly. Her chest was still heaving with excitement.
"No real reason," he admitted. "I just wondered."
Bledsoe's big hand closed on one tender breast. His hand was so large it completely covered the voluptuous white mound. He squeezed and massaged her breast gently. The softness and tenderness were even more exciting than his earlier roughness had been. He could see her taut nipple poking between two of his fingers, seeking to escape. "I'm going to have you begging me to screw you," he informed her softly. "I'm going to have you so horny you'd sell your own mother out to get my cock in your pussy."
Amy felt a perverse flash of sexual excitement at this announcement. The thought of being a sexual toy, totally at a man's mercy, was incredibly exciting.
Bledsoe smiled confidently. He knew she was looking forward to it as much as he was. He closed his fingers on the aroused peak of her luscious tit and tugged, pulling her heaving breast upward into a perfect cone. When the tender nipple slipped from between his fingers, her voluptuous breast rebounded to its usual firm round shape. The nipple, however, was even harder and sharper than it had been. Her flat stomach was sucked in with excitement, her chest was heaving with her erratic breathing. He held her other arm down, immobilizing it, as he repeated the exquisite torture on her other breast.
Amy's eyes closed. She suddenly realized just how wonderful this torment was going to be. Because the more she tried to fight down her own sexual need, to control it, the more she was lasciviously aroused by his salacious stimulation. It was like trying not to think of food when you're hungry, every attempt only reminding you of what you're trying not to think of. She was aware of the smooth feel of the bedcovers under her naked body, the feel of the cool hilltop air on her bare skin.
Her nipples were pulling from the tugging Harry Bledsoe had given them. Both breasts felt swollen and full, both were aching with a wild need. Amy clenched her hands on the bedspread and licked her suddenly dry lips. She could not recall ever having been so aroused.
Bledsoe smiled confidently at the evidence of her growing lust. And he had barely started on her, too. Her mouth was a slack invitation as she rolled her head gently. Yes, she was an exquisite woman, perfectly proportioned and delightfully youthful.
Leaning forward, he sought one of her fiery breasts with his hungry mouth. First he just brushed her stimulated nipple with partially opened lips. He felt her whole body shudder in eager, aching response. Teasingly, he blew on her excited tit. Then his tongue lurched out and licked the turgid little nubbin, batting it with the tip of his expert tongue, feeling it bounce and rebound excitedly, as if it were made of rubber. She tasted young and fresh and sweet.
The black-haired man closed his warm, wet lips around her aching nipple and sucked it into his greedy mouth. Lifting his head slightly, he drew her lust-aroused breast upward, much as he had before with his hand. He hungrily tongued her tit and sucked on it. He let his teeth close on the nerve loaded button and salaciously nibbled it back and forth. He heard Amy suck in a ragged gasp. Shifting his jaw back and forth, he rolled her aroused nipple between his tantalizing teeth, and felt Amy begin to writhe, felt the bed shifting as her legs thrashed.
He released her breast and lifted his head so he could look at her. Her chest was heaving in mad, abandoned passion. She was rolling her head from side to side, and he knew it wasn't in denial of him. Her cheeks were flushed with passion, her face twisted almost as if she were in pain. But it wasn't pain, it was naked, animal lust.
He lowered his voracious mouth to her other quivering breast and drew as much of that delicate mound into his mouth as he could. At the same time he slid his free hand down her flat torso, down toward the already moistened mouth of her vaginal cavity. But he didn't go all the way there he paused to probe one finger deeply into her sensitive navel.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned.
Amy felt blood rushing to her breast as Bledsoe sucked on it with his rapacious mouth. His tongue rasping over her nipple like sandpaper was building the fires in her helpless body still higher.
"Noooooo," she moaned raggedly. It was a futile denial, one she doubted he had even heard.
She felt his hand, strong and hard and rough, stroking down her tense, lust-maddened belly, and her hips heaved and shifted restlessly. She thought he was going for her pussy, and wasn't sure if she wanted him to yet or not. Then, when he stopped at her navel, she whimpered softly. His probing finger poked into her belly-button, and Amy's body convulsed involuntarily. He drilled his searching finger deep into her sensitive stomach, and an incredible sexual itch erupted deep in her panting body. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before in her life. That single drilling thrust into her navel, a thrust she would have expected to hurt, set off an unbelievable itching deep in the heart of her sexual organs, an itching she knew there was only one way to scratch.
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, God!" she yelled in shock.
Harry Bledsoe felt a surge of triumph at her cry. This little woman hadn't seen anything yet.
He twisted his probing finger in her belly, wiggled it in her guts, and felt her body heave wildly. He continued sucking and devouring her small firm breast, sinking his teeth into the tender mound while mangling its tip with his tongue.
Instinctively, Amy's free arm swept up and around. She found the back of Harry's head and tangled her fingers in his straight black hair. She forced his face down hard on her breast. Her hips were twisting and rolling lewdly.
Harry Bledsoe lifted his head, leaving her panting breast shining with his saliva, and the pink imprint of his teeth on her passion-aroused mound. Her nipple was swollen with blood.
"Ohhhhhhh," Amy hooted as Bledsoe withdrew his finger from her navel. The fiery itch in her pussy didn't depart with it, but stayed to torment her.
Harry had a great deal more in store for her. He slid his hand southward, watching it as it drew near Amy's thick brown bush. Her pubic hairs were curly and frizzy, a dense kinky mass that was cut off cleanly across the top. Probably she had to shave her belly to wear a bikini. He combed his fingers through the curls, tugging them out straight, then watching them spring back. He tugged at one strand, watching it pull at her skin as he did. He watched the uneven panting of her chest as he toyed with her bush.
Amy's lust built higher and higher. Why didn't he lower his fingers just a little more? Why didn't he probe her hot pussy, pry into her dripping slit? Maybe the touch of his hand would end the desperate fiery itching in her guts? Amy heaved her hips upward, trying to encourage him to hurry, but it was a wasted effort. He kept his hands tantalizingly distant from her sexual organs.
The big rock and roll star grinned at the way she was blindly seeking relief. He loved the way the muscles in her lovely belly and thighs tightened to lift her hips upward, grinding her pelvis against his hand. The blind mouth of her lust-crazed pussy was hungrily seeking his searching fingers. By lifting his head a little higher, he could see her pouting, bulging labia through her curling hair. There was even a flash of pink where the inner labia were distended with blood and protruding slightly from her hairy, aching slit.
Amy suddenly realized that both her hands were free. She reached out the one Harry had been holding, and the back of her fingers bumped against his hard, strong stomach. He lay on his side next to her. Her fingers brushed through his curly, wiry pubic hair, then touched his erectly pulsating shaft. There, she thought, that was what she wanted, that was what she needed. She curled her fingers around the rigid, blood-engorged rod, and felt the velvety skin slide over the lust-hardened, rippling core, felt the throbbing veins shifting under the skin. She explored the pulsing tower with her fingers. Suddenly, as she slid her grasping fingers over the rubbery glands, her hand was slippery and sticky.
"Want it?" Bledsoe asked softly.
"Yes. Oh please, Yessssssssss!"
"In a bit," he said mildly.
Delicately, the singer teased one finger between her labia and found her already-rigid little clit-button. He touched it very, very gently, anticipating and avoiding the convulsive heave of her hips.
"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh," moaned Amy at the feathery, blistering touch of her clitoris.
"Sure you want it?" Bledsoe asked, grinning.
Amy didn't trust her voice any longer. She rolled her head from side to side in desperate need. There was a second searing touch on her clitoris, and her body heaved as if it had received an electric shock.
"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaassssse," she mumbled.
Her entire body was bathed in fiery, lascivious need. She squeezed the cock in her hand and pulled on it, trying to drag the throbbing shaft to the entrance of her ravenous vagina.
"Sure ... you ... want ... it?" Bledsoe repeated, emphasizing each word by flicking his expert finger against her aroused clit.
"Aaaaah ... ah ... ah ... ahhhhhhhhh," Amy wailed. "Ohhhhhh, don't torture me! I'm yours, anything you want, just fuck me. Fuck me, please!"
"Why?" Bledsoe demanded, still pulverizing her aching clitoris.
Amy rolled her head from side to side. Her jaw was working mindlessly.
"Please, please, please," she begged. "Don't do this to me. Just fuck me! Fuck me now!"
Triumphant, the big man pressed his whole hand down on Amy's dripping, starving pussy. He probed his longest finger into her dripping vaginal cavern and was amazed at the flood of juices that soaked it immediately. He cupped and pressed her ravenous pussy and wiggled his finger in her soaking, clinging wet hole.
Amy rolled toward the victor and pushed him over on his back. She squirmed her petite, lithe body over his huge muscular frame, clinging to him with arms and legs, nibbling at his mouth and chin. Then, straddling him, she pushed herself upright. With frantic hunger, she gripped his throbbing phallus and held it perpendicular to his body. She positioned her warm, wet, aching pussy over it, lowered herself until the blood-engorged tip was nestled at the entrance to her steaming vagina. Her face became a blank mask of pure engulfing passion as she lowered herself on the monster tower of purple and white flesh, driving it up into her darkly bushed sex. She spitted herself on it with total abandon. She felt it drive deep, deep into her grasping, dripping vagina, felt it spread the velvety walls, felt it stuff her full.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh," she sighed happily as she settled her hips down on the rock and roll star, his raging prick now totally consumed by her vagina. All thought of Rick fled from her as she reveled in the hot sensations of his slippery prick.
When she finally adjusted to having the fullness she had so desperately needed, she opened her eyes and looked down at the man under her. He had his hands behind his head, and was grinning at her.
"You love it, you bastard, don't you?" Amy hissed passionately.
"Now, now," he chided. "No name-calling, please."
"What if I left you right now?" she teased. "You'd be walking bowlegged for the next month."
"Maybe I would," he said, "and then again, maybe I wouldn't.
"You think I'm just another groupie, don't you? A little older, but basically after the same thing."
"The thought crossed my mind," he admitted, grinning up at her. "It gets hard to tell one from another after awhile, you know."
"Mm-hmm," said Amy. "Well, let's see if any groupie ever did it like this." She lifted off him, feeling his prick slide from her, then dropped back down the full length of his aroused cock, making a soggy, squishing sound as it penetrated the deepest recesses of her hungry vagina. "Well?" she said.
"Not exactly like that," he admitted.
"And now I'm going to give you a fucking like you never had before in your life," she growled. She lifted and dropped herself again, allowing the tip of his raging cock to leave her wet pussy, then sliding all the way down it again, landing on his abdomen with an emphatic splatting sound. His beautiful cock felt like a telephone pole in her guts. Leaning forward, she lifted and dropped again, and again, and again. Her excited pelvis rocked smoothly back and forth, making his hardened rod of flesh drive into her at various titillating angles, making it push and tug at the warm, wet walls of her starving vagina.
Harry Bledsoe's face was now shining with sweat. He was more ready for action. It had taken incredible self-control to keep from leaping on this delicious woman long ago and pounding his rapacious cock into her slender, delectable body. She was some woman, all right Old Robinson had certainly known what he was doing when he assigned her this job, and Danny's recommendation had been reliable, as usual. What else was a manager for, after all. But all thoughts of Richman were washed away in a surge of pleasure as his pile driving cock slid past the clinging walls of her warm moist pussy. His hips lifted to meet her, and he drove himself up as hard as he could as she came down on him. Their bodies collided in mid-air and rebounded. Bouncing his hips off the mattress, using the thrust of the springs to increase his own thrust, he slammed up even harder against her passion-crazed, driving vagina.
Amy felt the shock go straight up her spine to her head. Her jaw snapped shut as a blast of lust geysered through her from the impact of his thrusting cock. She reached down between them with the fingers of her right hand and diddled with her clitoris, raising her passion to a new peak of wanton desire. Then the man she was screwing caught on to what she was doing and brushed her hand aside. His thumbs took over the task, spreading the upper end of her labia. Cold air struck the stimulated inner folds. When he pinched and rolled her clitoris against her pubic arch, Amy thought she would go mad with forbidden lust. She writhed in a wild frenzy, making her taut breasts jiggle insanely. Her hips jerked and twisted, forward and back and side to side as she stirred the monster cock around in the depths of her blazing insides. The flame rose higher and higher, until like a tidal wave, an orgasm engulfed her.
"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggggg-gghhhhhhhhh!" she screamed. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh my goddddddddddddd!"
She collapsed forward on Harry, exhausted. She was dimly aware of the fact that he was still moving under her, but at that moment, she could have cared less.
Then he pulled his hands from where they had been trapped between them and gripped the melon-like cheeks of her luscious ass. The feeling of the crack of her bottom being stretched and drawn apart sent Amy's mad lust soaring once again. Chill air struck her excited anus, which was still sticky and wet with her excess lubricant. She felt his enormous cock sliding in and out of her moist pussy, and clung to the big body beneath her thighs.
Harry used his grip on Amy's ass to move her in opposition to his thighs. He was close to the fiery blasting of an ejaculation. The feel of her little body sliding and quivering against his was exquisite, exciting him even more in his made drive toward orgasm and release. Her vagina was hot and tight around his aching phallus. He could feel her copious juices on his thighs and fingers.
Faster and faster he humped under her, slamming his raging cock into her willing body. His pubic arch was crunching and rolling against hers at every thrust. Fire was pooling in his loins. He worked closer and closer and closer, and then he was there, the muscles deep inside him spasming and jerking. His body was bathed in fire as he poured his flood of come into Amy's tight little vagina. His entire body ached, and he rammed his prick into her as if he wanted to send itout her mouth. His fingers bruised her buttocks as he held her welded tight against his, until the pulsing and pumping had died away to become nothing more than a salaciously delicious memory. Then he relaxed.
Amy's entire body went limp as her second orgasm faded along with Harry Bledsoe's. She felt totally exhausted. She felt his once-proud prick shrinking inside her, leaving feeling vaguely empty in spite of the copious come he was leaving behind.
"Oh God," she sighed at last. "Jesus!" She climbed off him, the sunken remnant of his prick slipping from her satiated hole. Aching with exhaustion, she sat slumped on the edge of the bed. She felt the bed shift as Harry Bledsoe got up. Finally she stirred herself and began to dress.
"Mrs. Barker?" Harry said.
"What? Amy replied sharply, feeling momentarily disgusted with herself.
"I think you've got yourself a deal."