Chapter 12
A shadowy movement in the alleyway outside of the Peep Show Palace made John bolt. "There's somebody standing at the window!" He gulped. "You can find yourself another grip . . . I ain' sticking around!" A retraining hand caught him by the arm.
Red-faced and shaking, George stuffed the stiffened tube of his penis into his pants. The tender flesh dragged across the saw-toothed open zipper. He swore and winced. Crap, I was just about to cum, too.. . He sensed eyes watching him. Probably the police ready to nail me for window peeping . . . oh, shit. The cameraman almost wished that were the case when he swung around to face Channel 2's mini-cam operator and his punk grip.
"George.. . . ? " Ralph's expression fell somewhere between relief and anger. "What the fuck you doing? Potters is going crazy!"
George sucked in his breath; his testicles felt like two twenty pound lead weights were choking off the blood supply. Walking was no easy task. Stealthily he followed the camouflaging shadow of the building wall until he faced Ralph. Jaws parted as he stuttered out a reply, when Ralph's beeper bleeped.
Keeping his eyes suspiciously glued to George's guilty face, he plucked the beeper from his belt and flicked the button. "What the fuck's going on?" bellowed Bill Potters. "You got two hours to get live footage or you're all fired!"
"Yes, Mr. Potters . . . we've found George."
Silence fell on the other end until: "What about Sherrie Williams? Any sign of her?"
"No, sir . . . we just got here."
Thoughtful silence, again. "Get footage of the place so we can start breaking the story. We'll continue it on the noon news tomorrow and six o'clock, if she's still missing."
Abruptly a fiendish grin broke out over Potters' face. Fortunately his cameramen couldn't read the reason for the tight smugness or they would have dumped the cameras in the trash cans. "News
Reporter Missing from On The Spot Report!" What a hell of a story! Christ, it could hit local headlines!
"I want news, you lazy bastards . . . and I want footage . . . anything that moves, shoot. Shots of the building, shots of those diseased bastards jacking off at the magazine rack . . . I want to see all on tonight's eleven o'clock newscast-or I'll blackball all of you! Get my drift?"
The threesome stared at each other.
"Can he do that?" gulped John.
Ralph nodded. "His father-in-law owns the network."
"He can do that," repeated John, downtrodden.
"We got to rind Sherrie-quick!" Ralph's shoulders heaved; he rubbed his temples and thought: Why me? "You see her, George?"
George paled and spoke low and evenly. "All of her . . . every inch."
Reacting to instinct and the burning need of the screaming demon within her, Sherrie's blue eyes popped open wide and her delicate, white hands shot out to touch the black sacs of Carter's bloated balls to knead them reverently between her nimble fingers.
"Ohhh, babeeee," he cooed, running his black fingers through her angel hair.
As she had seen Daisy do, she opened the cracked and cum-encrusted line of her bruised lips and slipped them easily over the spongy, mushroom head of
Carter's penis, bathing the salty flesh with her wet, warm tongue. Babyishly, she flattened the tip of her pink tongue against the eye of his cock as she sighed at the feel of his hands closing over her ears. He groaned in lustful appreciation of her gentle manipulations.
"Suck it, angel baby, suck itttttt!! ! "
Humming deep within her throat, she bobbed her head up and down as she worked her soft mouth over the peaty pole of blackness. Her sensitive tongue experienced the squeamish wiggle of his blood pulsing veins. The taste of him was briny, piquant, masculine, dominate.. . .
Four bodies or one body? Who could tell? Their cocks, stuffing her every open hole, became extensions of herself. The more frenetic and vicious the attack upon her body, the more grinding and twisting and violent became her responses.
Snarling, she grabbed the black tube of Carter's penis and squeezed her fist as hard as she could, all tenderness vaporizing like steam from a witch's cauldron. She felt the veins flood with blood, bloating it another half inch in girth. With slow, precise movements, she slipped her lips from off the mushroomed head. Sherrie's tongue went wild now from the musky smell of Carter's balls cushioned against her dimpled chin. Her tongue went wild, bathing the spongy head, dipping into the seeping slit, licking away the pre-cum with ravenous hunger, while mewls of delight and ecstasy gurgled from her throat.
She had tasted male cum once tonight-but once tasted, twice craved!
For Sherrie Williams there was no Channel 2 newsroom, no Bill Potters hounding her for news copy . . . only cocks . . . black, swollen cocks . . . the cocks raping her mouth, her anus, her cunt!
They humped and bumped and knocked into each other, all four seething with desire to dominate one another. Now Carter, the most gentle of the three men, shed his mantel of tenderness and snorted with sadistic lust. Cruelly, he grabbed Sherrie's ears and brutally thrust his saliva-slickened penis back into the womb-like hole of her throat!
Sherrie went wild with the need to swallow his cock, to suck it down her throat as she had Shaker's. The taste was an aphrodisiac dominating her senses. With a desperate grunt, she reached behind his black buttocks and clasped her white hands to the muscular flesh to pull him towards her, screwing her throat deliberately as she struggled to suck the seed from his groin with belly heaving swallows.
Ensconced in hedonistic pleasures, the hydra of arms and legs, heads and cocks were oblivious to the activities outside the rain-smudged window. Another blessing, perhaps, for Sherrie Williams' tortured soul?
Ralph cleared his throat in disbelief. "I don't believe what I'm seeing. That can't be Sherrie Williams!"
Beside him, John pressed his freckled nose to the cool glass. "Jesus, I never dreamed she had such big tits . . . I bet Davis that was a padded bra made her look all pointy and hard, stickin' halfway up to her chin. . . . "
Ralph shut him up with a sharp elbow in the grip's ribs. "You idiot! We're supposed to be professionals, not dum jerk-offs!" Here George shuddered and pinched harder at his balls. "One of our reporters is in there being raped by three black men, and you're talking about padded bras!" continued Ralph.
"Raped?" John's voice was low and meaningful. "Don't look like rape to me!"
George, elevating himself on his mini-cam, surreptitiously slunk a hungry hand to cup the blood engorged bulge of his genitals, weighing them like a cantaloupe. He cocked his head in a casual attempt. "That's what I've been trying to figure out. I gotta agree with John . . . " Jesus, I wish these bastards would leave so I could jerk-off. . . my balls weigh a ton!
The threesome watched bug-eyed as Sherrie Williams, the blonde haired angel of the newsroom, hungrily swabbed her pink tongue over the glistening black pole of Carter's slithering cock. Sandwiched in between Shaker's black hulk from atop and Jarvis' pudgy girth from behind, they hammered their ebony stone-hard penises into her pussy and anus with synchronized jabs that made Ralph's hemorrhoids hurt.
"I never knew a woman could handle three men at once," snickered John. "I never saw nothing like that in Playboy!"
Ralph scratched his head and heaved a meaningful sigh. "We're in one hell of a predicament. Potters is going to dump our careers if we don't get footage. Plug in the cords, John! Let's get rolling."
George's voice went tight. "We can't film this! Maybe we oughta call back Potters."
"Be realistic . . . I said plug in the cords, you idiot!" growled Ralph at the grip who stood with his nose pressed intently to the glass pane, his blue eyes two pools of amazement, his jaw slack.
"Just a second, I wanna see if she takes all of his cock . . . " he whistled into the night. "God, Niggers are hung, aren't they?"
"I said plug in the cords! I'm not telling you again!"
With a sigh, the blonde haired grip went to work uncoiling the cords, leaving the two senior cameramen to discuss the situation.
"You think we oughta call the cops?" Ralph struggled toward realism, but his mind was between his legs in sympathy with the bloated girth of his entrapped cock. His breath came in slow, hissing spurts, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest. Indecision was seldom his game, but tonight he was stuck.
Beside him, George feigned professionalism. "If we call the cops," he whispered jerkily, "we'll be giving them the credit for the bust." The itch between his legs felt like army ants were nibbling at his cum-infested balls. Two inching fingers went to work, pressing, jabbing, trying to release pressure. "You . . . know . . . how Potters . . . hates cops!"
Silence fell, sluiced by the scuffing of feet in the alley and John whistling to himself in the night as he went about his work.
"You . . . you think she likes it?" Ralph squinted through the window just as Sherrie's tiny palm delicately cradled the sac of Carter's testicles. "God, three . . . ? " he choked.
"Don't look like she's protesting, does it?" interjected George, buying time.
Ralph pooched out his lips and studied the alabaster nudity in all its luscious, richly swelling, nibblable spendor-sandwiched in between a black stud fucking her asshole, a second black man ramming his cock up her cunt, and a third force-feeding her cock down her willing, elegant throat!
"Wonder how she ended up in there," queried Ralph. "You don't suppose . . . ? " He turned to George.
"She deliberately slept with them niggers to get a story?" George finished for him.
"Hmmmmm . . . never thought of that." It was a lie.
"I always thought she was so pure and innocent.. . kinda cold. . . almost untouchable," continued George, bending his knees to ease the pressure in his groin. Nearly losing his balance, he grabbed at the window sill to steady himself.
"Fooled us, huh?" snickered Ralph, curling his lip in bitterness.
"Always had the feeling she thought everybody was stupid-except for her.. . . " added George, pinching his balls between thumb and forefinger. "Kinda aloof, you know?"
"Yup, I know." Ralph sucked in his breath sharply. "Funny you should say that. I got a confession to make.. . . "
"Yeah . . . " George turned to Ralph. God, I'm gonna cu m in my pants if I keep watching her eat that nigger. Wonder if Ralph's horny too? Jesus, does he know I'm jerking-off? He gulped, his stomach knotting.
"I asked her out one time." He shook his head and snorted sardonically.
"Yeah . . . ? She fuck you like she's fuckin' those black guys? A nervous laugh escaped George's dry lips.
Ralph's face turned to glower. "She turned me down . . . guess she didn't think I was hot stuff."
"Goes to show you about women. . . . "
Ralph shrugged. "Guess you're right. Blondes and black meat go together like salt and pepper.. . . "
"Hey, snickered George nervously. 'That's clever--. . . " Jesus, just a little more and my cock's gonna squirt! Wonder how long it'll take my pants to dry?
"Maybe if I'd been black she woulda fucked me like she's eating that crow," quipped Ralph bitterly. "Who would think Sherrie Williams was into butt fucking?" he snorted, shaking his head.
"Yeah, she sure is eating him . . . look at her tits jiggle . . . makes me wanna . . . . " He stopped his confession just in time and gulped dryly.
Ralph turned to him. "Makes you wanna what?" Ralph's face went tight, his voice husky.
"Jump in there and nibble her pussy a little.. . just a little, " shrugged George stupidly, lost in a private world of vice.
Beside him he sensed Ralph growing tense. His lips moved in mutterings of damnation.
"If I had my way, I'd grab that black bastard off her ass and hump the bitch from behind . . . I'd ram my cock so far up her asshole she'd never shit again!" spat Ralph.
Fortunately for George his fellow cameraman was ensconced in his own bitterness, because just then he felt it burn in his gut. It spurted a geyser of steaming hot cum that soaked his Levis through to the waist. His knees started to buckle and to keep himself from humping the wall, he clung white-knuckled to the window sill. From a hazy point of consciousness, he heard Ralph mumble:, "Hoity toity bitch, too good for anybody . . . damned cunt, bitch, whore, cocksucker!"
John's silvery enthusiasm came as if from heaven or some point beyond earth, as George tried to slow his heartbeat.
"Hey, Ralph, I got everything set up. I was thinking maybe we could cross the street and take some footage of the storefront. . . Ralph, hey, man, what's the matter?" His forehead furrowed with concern. "They got guns . . . ? Ralph?"
Ralph snarled at his grip: "Get the camera rolling!"
John scratched his head. "I'm not sure we got enough cord. . . . "
"We're filming right through that window!"