Chapter 1
Fear, raw and sprawling, filled her eyes ... But naked now ... Completely naked....
As naked as the day she had entered the world....
Twenty-year-old Donna K. Williamson sucked in a deep, deep breath of air to steel herself for the ordeal which she felt awaited her. She hesitated for a moment, shrugged, and then stepped from the bathroom into the plush, frankly sensuous-if somewhat, to her thinking, affected-bedroom of Suite 21, the Good Knight's Inn.
Although it hadn't been her conscious intention to do so, that reaction to her fear, that simple, natural act-the filling of her lungs with air-had done some rather fantastic sort of things to her full, ripely firm, pear-shaped breasts and the hard, tight, twin little, hot-hot-pink mountains which capped them.
The trick's eyes grew big and round as she appeared at the entrance of the bedroom, and he let out a long, low, lingering whistle in obvious appreciation of the merchandise he had just purchased ... or at least in obvious appreciation of the bright, sparkling, zestful sort of packaging that merchandise came in.
Donna tried to smile but failed miserably.
Help me, help me....
There was something about her, about the total impact of her femininity which conjured up visions of the American Midwest ... of Kansas in late summer ... and of a raw and ready, full-blown, biting, earthy, and radiant sort of healthfulness which comes with farm living.
Actually, Donna had been born in Youngstown, Ohio, and raised in Cleveland ... cities devoted to the manufacture of steel and removed from the ripe cornfields and clear, blue skies of Kansas as one can possibly get ... and still be in the United States.
She was a tall woman-nearly five-eight in her bare feet-and she carried herself in a fiercely proud, almost regal sort of manner. As frightened as she was at the moment, her every movement still managed to convey something of the ballet-yes, and something of the jungle cat on the prowl, too She walked with her shoulders held back and her chin tilted ever-so-slightly upward.
Regal and fiercely proud....
There was a magical quality about her hair.
It was the color of raw honey in a water glass being held up to the midday sun in summer, natural and savage, excitingly alive, and it fell full and rich and loose to a point about two-thirds of the way down her long, slender, smoothly tapered back.
Under any sort of light but especially under a bright, summer sun, the least sort of movement of her head gave birth to thousands and thousands of catch lights in her hair, catch lights that were colored in vibrant reds and yellows and golds and seemed to dance and play and frolic in the most reckless sort of manner there in the soft, gentle folds and waves which held them captive.
Her eyes were cornflower blue, huge, wide and seemingly innocent. Her nose was pert if a bit pugged, and her lips were full and moist and ripe. She had a crazy little habit of running the tip of her tongue over the rim of her lips-a nervous habit, nothing more, a thing she had developed as a child and carried over into her adult life, and yet the effect of her action was undeniably sexual, savagely so ... that many a male had felt his blood begin to boil, his manhood suddenly spring to life with need and desire while viewing the motion of her hot-pink tongue as it traveled ever-so-slowly around the outline of her lips.
Her body was like a poem composed of softly curving lines, graceful, slender without being thin ... and totally female, pale and smooth, golden. Her shoulders were a bit wide, but then they had to be to support her breasts, for they were huge, impeccably shaped and perfectly matched, unmarred by so much as a single stretch-mark, and the nipples there were firm and ripe, seemingly stretching upward toward the heavens. Her waist was thin, her tummy flat and smooth, and a wild, triangular-shaped patch of curly, golden fuzz seemed to stand sentinel above her vagina.
Help me, help me....
The trick's eyes seemed to be drinking her in, hotly, savagely, inch by painful inch, savoring each and every golden drop, as if her body were a rare and vintage wine.
Please, help me....
"Is something wrong, Donna?"
For the first time, Donna allowed herself to look at his manhood. It stood hard, erect ... and huge.
It's so big, so ... beautifully monstrous....
As if in response to her thoughts, like a kid showing off, his penis began to pulse and jerk, to whip about wildly ... and the honey-blonde began to tremble in fear and anticipation.
It fascinated her, that beautiful monster.
She felt herself being drawn to it, felt herself wanting to ... touch it. Her own thoughts seemed to add to her sense of fear. They were so crazy, so ... shamefully insane, and yet she couldn't deny the fact that she found herself wondering what it might feel like to have that much man stuffed up inside of her ... to feel that proud, bold, and heavy monster as it made its way hotly in and out, in and out of her cave of love.
Donna very nearly screamed. "What is it?" the trick asked. "Huh? What?"
"I asked if anything were wrong?"
"Oh, no ... no," Donna said, unable to hide or control the tremor in her voice. "It's ... it's nothing. Really, I ... that is, I ... I...."
She felt as helpless as a newborn infant.
It was as if her fear of the situation she found herself in had produced a short circuit somewhere in her brain. She could think of nothing ... absolutely nothing even remotely intelligent to say to this man who had ... had ... purchased the use of her body to satisfy his sexual needs.
Help me ... somebody, anybody ... help me!
The trick looked deeply into Donna's eyes for what she felt was the longest time. His deep brown eyes, as they probed her, seemed so gentle, so filled with with ... with what? Well, there was no denying the fantastic sense of fiery and urgent sexual need she found there, but there seemed to be something more there, too; something she found inappropriate in the situation-real concern for her as a flesh and blood human being.
But how can that be? she asked herself. Why should he care anything at all about me as a person? After all, I'm just a ... a thing, something for him to use and then discard as casually as he would a newspaper or something.
"It's rather obvious that something is, indeed, wrong, Donna," the trick said, his voice soft and gentle, strangely sad. "Very, very wrong...."
"No, I...."
"Please, let me help...." His concern confused her.
He isn't acting like a trick-not at all. He's acting like ... well, almost like a lover! "Really, Donna, I'd like to help...."
"Well, I ... I...."
"Look, Donna," he said "Valarie and I are old and good friends, and-well, she told me that this was your first time out ... your first time to ever turn a trick. I think that I can understand what it is that you're feeling at the moment. You're apprehensive about ... well, about everything, really. So ... relax, won't you? We've got the whole afternoon ahead of us."
Suddenly there was fire in Donna's eyes.
His words had sounded so damn patronizing to her--almost as if she were a scared and lost little kid and he a big and friendly policeman. If there was anything she hated, really hated, it was to be patronized by anyone-especially if that anyone happened to be a male.
Screw you and your understanding, too, Buster.
She didn't want his concern, his interest in her as a person. After all, theirs was strictly a business arrangement-the use of her body in exchange for his money. Her need to deny the fiercely gnawing itch that had developed there in between her legs didn't do much to help the situation for her, either.
Her anger continued to mount, fed by her sense of confusion-a great, sprawling bitch of an anger which seemed to be swelling up to epic proportions inside her, threatening to burst. It was typical of Donna, over-reacting-especially when she was in a state of confusion. Momentarily, anyway the anger seemed to drive away all trace of her fear of the situation.
She glared at the trick, her hands on her hips-a bold and defiant sort of pose. The tip of her tongue traveled slowly over the rim of her lips as her body seemed to hurl a wordless challenge at him and the trick began to moan softly deep within his throat.
"Donna I ... oh damn, woman ... back off a step or two or you're going to have me spilling my load all over the place before I even touch you."
"Do you have to look at me like that?" Donna snapped.
A wide easy sort of grin came to the trick's face.
"Damnit, do you?" she demanded. "Do you, do you?"
"Do what?" the trick said, a slight edge to his usually calm and casual tone-an edge that seemed somehow to make his voice even more heavily vibrant, more resonantly deep and rich ... fantastically sensual.
"You ... you're still doing it," Donna sputtered. The grin seemed to widen on the trick's face. "STOP IT...."
He was obviously-although to Donna, inexplicably-pleased by her behavior. The simple truth was that he liked a woman with a touch of erratic fire to her nature, one with spunk and backbone. Experience had taught him that a woman with those qualities almost always made sex the free and wild thing he needed and wanted-indeed, demanded. His manhood stood out stiffly, pulsing like a jungle animal in anticipation of a hard and sprawling confrontation with the love cave of the honey-blonde.
"Stop it, stop it...."
"You still haven't told me what it is I'm supposed to be doing, Donna," he said.
"I ... I don't know how to put it into words," Donna said. "But ... well, the way you look at me ... it makes me feel as if ... as if I were nothing more than a hunk of hanging meat...."
The grin slipped from the trick's face.
"Oh, Donna ... that certainly wasn't my intention," he said. "Really, I ... oh, wow ... look, Donna, you're a very beautiful woman, wildly and excitingly so, and ... well, I just happen to be a man who loves and appreciates all truly beautiful things. Is there really anything so terribly wrong with that? Really? Is there?"
His words were so simple, so direct and honest ... and they totally disarmed the honey-blonde. She could actually feel them at work, making their way through blood and muscle and bone, draining every last drop of anger from her smooth, golden body.
"I ... I don't know what to say. You've got me so darn confused. You're not at all what I expected a trick to be like-not even a little bit."
The grin was back on the trick's face.
The burst of anger Donna had felt was gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of guilt. After all, she reasoned, he really hadn't done anything wrong! And what right did she, a call girl, have to be angry, anyway? With the guilt came a rebirth of her fear of the situation.
The trick lay sprawled out on his back on the bed, waiting, naked, too, and ... and ready. Oh, was he ever ready.
A shudder rippled through Donna's body, the itch there in between her legs began to scream for attention. She began to tremble and she had to keep reminding herself to breathe. The fires of her own sense of anticipation turned large areas of her usually smooth, golden skin to gooseflesh.
The trick held his arms out to the honey-blonde.
"Come," he said, "join me...."
Donna found herself looking for something in the trick's warm, dark eyes. There was so much tenderness there, so much human compassion, so much ... well, so much understanding of her fear of the situation.
He certainly doesn't look like the type of guy who would have to pay a girl to go to bed with him, she decided. Even if he is on the wrong side of forty.
There was a touch of gray at the temples of his otherwise coal-black hair. His nose appeared to have been broken and dipped a bit to one side, and there were traces of smile lines at the corners of his eyes and lips ... but his body was lean and young, tall and powerful and agile, like an athlete in his primefinely toned and muscled, without a single trace of flab or sag.
"There's nothing to fear," he said. "Come ... let me love you...."
Donna managed to take a hesitant step or two toward the bed, then suddenly pulled up short-frozen in her tracks, her whole body shaking. Her lips moved, sucking air, like a fish out of water, but the words which took form in her mind refused to leave her mouth.
You're acting like a silly goose, she tried to tell herself. After all, it's not as if you were still a silly little virgin ... as if that dark and beautiful thing on the bed was the first man you had ever gone to bed with.
Her head seemed to be spinning like a top and it felt as if her legs were about to give out from under her. She wanted to scream, to turn and run, to hide ... to beat it the hell out of that expensive motel, that city, that ... that universe. She wanted to find Valarie and tell her that she couldn't, she simply couldn't go through with it ... not at that moment anyway, probably not ever, not even if it meant that she would be forced to drop out of Cutter College with only a semester to go to graduation.
Sweet mother of mercy....
Sex simply wasn't a commodity, something to be bought or sold on the open market, like so many pounds of soybeans-or even like a fine painting, a work of art. It had to be meaningful ... and its primary meaning was an expression of love, of great and abiding love. Oh, sure, it was a means of continuing the race, too, but anything other than those two things cheapened it in Donna's eyes, changed it into something foul and dirty ... evil!
Oh, Valarie, how could I have ever allowed you to talk me into this ... this insanity?
"Look, Mister...."
"Call me Bob, Donna."
"Listen ... Bob ... I'm sorry but I really can't go through with this."
"It'll be all right, Donna. Really, you'll see."
"And please stop saying that," Donna screamed. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her face in great, hot, gushing rivers. "It's not all right ... it's not all right at all...."
Suddenly, the trick was up from the bed with his strong, muscular arms wrapped tightly around the trembling body of the honey-blonde. She felt herself begin to melt as he flooded her face with kisses and then-unexpectedly, her lips found his mouth.
"Oh, Bob...."
"Donna ... Donna...."
There was something more than a vague sense of urgency there in her lips, something she was unable, unwilling to suppress any longer ... something wild with need, hot and intense, alive and throbbing with fiery desire, something inviting, demanding and very, very wet.
"Oh, Bob...."
"Yes, Donna...."
"You must help me...."
"Yes, yes...."
"The bed," Donna moaned, her voice a harsh, gnawing whisper. "Please ... oh please Bob, help me ... my legs are so weak."
He swept her up in his arms and then deposited her ever-so-gently on the black, silk-sheet covered mattress, holding her in a viselike grip against him-a grip so tight that she could actually feel the points of her nipples against his chest as they grew hard and began to pulsate, wordlessly screaming their great and terrible need.
"It's crazy," Donna said in a tiny little voice, "but ... oh, Bob ... I want you. I ... I need you. Oh, I need you so very much...."
"Oh, Donna...."
"It's all so crazy, so insane...."
"And wonderful, too?"
"Yes ... and wonderful," Donna cried.
The trick cupped the fingers of his right hand gently over one of Donna's huge, pear-shaped breasts, and began to knead the hard, quivering little mountain of pink flesh he found there between his thumb and forefinger. His lips left her hot, liquid mouth and began to travel slowly down across her chin to her neck, leaving little silver trails of moisture in their wake.
"Oh, yes ... yes, Bob," Donna cried. "Yes ... yes ... yes. Oh Bob ... lover ... lover...."
His tongue flicked snakelike from his mouth, and then he drove it fiercely into Donna's ear ... and the frightened girl began to moan, throbbingly, deep within her throat, as her hips began to roll gently, almost imperceptibly from side to side in undulation.
Their bodies were moist now glistening in expectation. The very air surrounding them seemed to be heavy, charged with electricity ... and everywhere there seemed to be the strange aroma Donna always associated with sex ... brown sugar and pencil-shavings.
It was a new experience for the golden one, having sex with a man she didn't really know, a terrible and frightening sort of thing ... and yet heady and delicious as well. His tongue continued to bore in on its target, fluttering away wetly ... and then, suddenly, Donna began to shudder as hot little animal noises gurgled away in her throat. Quickly, she pulled her head away from the bold and reckless lapping of Bob's tongue-as if she could no longer bear the fierce and fiery pleasure it had produced.
"It ... oh, Bob ... so very nice."
She buried her wet ear against the pillow in selfdefense ... and the trick elected to move the attention of his lips and teeth and tongue to her thin, golden throat, sucking and nibbling and licking as he went.
"Bob ... lover...."
Moving gently now, gently, but with a real, nononsense sort of determination, too, she cupped her hands around the back of his head and directed his mouth toward her ripe pulsing breasts ... and the trick offered no resistance to her silent command, none at all. He kissed one of the hard, tortured nipples his mouth found there-a quick and playful, agonizing, moist little kiss of exploration, and the fingers of her hands, as if they had a will of their own, immediately tightened their grip on his head--afraid that he might have decided to call it quits after that one, tiny, all-too-brief buzz.
"So ... so good, lover," she cried. "It's ... oh, Bob ... it's so very, very good."
The trick began to trace hot, moist, circular little trails all around and around the outer edge of her quivering nipple with the tip of his tongue. He watched in fascination as that tiny mountain changed color from a soft, pale pink to a brooding, angry red ... but still he steadfastly refused to make direct contact with that screaming bit of flesh.
Closer, his tongue moved. Closer and closer and ... the animal noises gurgling away in Donna's throat grew louder and more intense. She tried to force her nipple against his tongue, but every time she came close the trick would suck his tongue back into his mouth ... and her sense of frustration began to manifest itself in the form of a long, low, wailing cry of anguish.
"Oh, please ... please, lover," she cried. "Kiss my nipples ... please ... please, please...."
Her body began to writhe violently, like a snake that had run amuck, rippling across the silken-sheet, and she cried and pleaded and begged ... but it wasn't until her wail of anguish began to truly sing and pulse, not until her shoulders were really trembling with the strain of their effort to raise her nipples to his mouth, not until he was certain that her sense of need was exploding like a series of thunderbolts throughout her entire body, not until then did he take that convulsing little mountain of angry red flesh up into his mouth and begin to suck on it. He held it captive with the pressure of his lips while his tongue began to make a symphony of the purest sort of sensation, a sensation that was at once both an exhilarating sort of pain and an agonizing sort of pleasure as it made its way over and around and across that bit of tormented, cone-shaped meat touching and sliding, twirling and twisting and rolling, fluttering, gliding, wet and fiercely hot, now reckless in its abandon, now gentle in its sweetness, but always loving ... and moving, moving, moving. It seemed to carry Donna to the razor edge of her sanity ... and with each new pass of his fiery tongue the soft and graceful hips of the would-be school teacher-turned-novice-call girl seemed to quicken the tempo of their undulation.
"Oh, Bob ... lover, I ... ohoooohhhh...."
While his lips and teeth and tongue were busy at her nipple, the trick allowed his free hand to travel slowly, oh, ever-so-slowly down across Donna's tight, trim, trembling belly, and down, down, down, deliberately down, down through the tuft of curly, golden fuzz which stood over her screaming sheath; down, down, down, moving as if in a dream, a nightmare where all motion has been slowed to a snail-pace, and it seemed to Donna that a century had passed before she finally felt the tips of his fingers come to rest on the lips of her bubbling little witch's cauldron-a cauldron already so hot that its magical brew of thick, syrupy juice had churned its way up to the surface of that mound of soft, viscid, velvety-red, spongy flesh there in between her legs and was now in the process of slowly seeping down onto her trembling inner thighs.
Donna moaned, and there seemed to be a hint of something primal in the sound she made-something as old as the first man and woman, something as new as the first golden drop of tomorrow's dawn. The muscles of her inner thighs began to twitch, the cords there snapping and straining, protesting their torment, and then, without really being aware of the fact that she was doing it, she moved her long, smoothly tapered legs, spreading them ever-so-slightly ... and exposing all of her tortured, liquid-colored vulva to the touch of his hotly probing fingertips.
"Oh, Bob...."
The tips of his fingers moved in what seemed like an endless series of long, feathery, figure-eight sort of patterns along the wet, shimmering lips of her wildly pulsing vagina, producing sparks of super-charged passion-sparks which very quickly began to flood their way out of her bubbling cauldron and then surged and crackled and sang their way to every part of her glistening body.
"Oh, feel how wet, lover," Donna cried. "So wet and ... and ... oh, Bob ... feel ... feel, lover ... stick your finger down inside me and feel how very, very wet you've made me."
"Oh, Donna...."
"Please, lover ... now ... don't make me wait!" The trick gently separated the dripping lips of her hot, quivering vagina ... and Donna cried out in the wildest sort of joy as suddenly he plunged his hard, stiff middle finger down, down, deeply into that wet, rippling, fiery mouth of her cave of love.
"Yes, lover ... yes, yes, yes...."
"Oh, sweet woman," the trick cried as he felt the inner walls of her vagina suddenly contract around his finger. "I ... I've never felt anything quite like that before. It's so ... different...."
"For me, too, lover. It feels so good, Bob ... so good and right. Oh, lover ... lover...."
His manhood lay hard and pulsing against the side of her leg, its throbbing like the rhythm of a jungle drum, wild and primitive. She wanted more than anything to reach out and touch it, to take it gently in her hand, to curl her slender fingers sweetly, lovingly around its beautiful girth, and then to rub and stroke and caress it ... but the weight of the trick's body had her pinned solidly to the surface of the bed, preventing her from moving into a position where she might reach it.
"Oh, Bob ... Bob ... please, please...."
He seemed not to hear her.
"Please, Bob, I ... I...."
She had been about to ask him to move his body--not much-just enough so that she might be able to reach his penis with her hand, to bring him even a small measure of the fantastic sense of pleasure she was experiencing at that moment, but then the tip of his finger brushed ever-so-lightly against her hard, screaming clitoris and sky-rockets began to explode within her head as pinwheels of bright, swirling light raced to every nook and cranny of her body ... and she quickly lost all thought of everything except the awesome drive of her great and sprawling need.
Her hips continued to move from side to side in that ancient rhythm of undulation, a natural sort of action-free and graceful, but it no longer seemed enough to satisfy her howling need, and so she began to thrust her vagina upward at about the midway point in the roll of her hips, up, up, and up, sweeping it back and forth, grinding, the muscles in her buttocks rippling with their new activity, the tuft of curly, golden pubic hair suddenly heavy and wet with a feverish sense of expectation. Her movements grew wilder and wilder, searing with a zestful scream of complete and total abandonment to her sexuality ... and each new thrust of her hips and buttocks sent her raw, dripping witch's cauldron higher and ever-higher as she strained frantically to meet the downward strokes of the trick's bold and wildly probing finger.
"Faster, lover," she cried. "Oh, it feels so ... so wonderful, Bob, but please ... faster, faster...."
"Would you like me to eat you?"
"Oh, yes ... yes, yes...."
He gave her rock-hard nipple one last, tender little flick of farewell with his tongue and then began to nibble and kiss and lick his way down slowly from her breast; down, down, down across the quivering, goose bump-covered flesh of her belly, and down, down, his lips and teeth and tongue developing a crazy little rhythm as they made their way slowly toward their ultimate destination.
"Oh, Bob," Donna cried. "Oh, sweet man ... oh, sweet, sweet lover man...."
Down, down, down....
Slowly, painfully down....
The trick seemed to be aware in only the vaguest sort of way of the knotting of the muscles in her belly as they began to respond to the bold and liquid magic of his thick, heavy tongue and hot, nibbling lips ... and her agony of that moment was joyously rich and sweet.
Down, down....
To that triangular-shaped patch of curly, golden fuzz in the soft, spongy mound of flesh above her vagina. The trick paused for a moment and then began to suck away wildly at the dew which held her pubic hair matted to her skin, and he really seemed to savor each and every drop of the rich and heady nectarous secretion he found there, and then lower-lower and lower, and still lower, playfully teasing as he resisted the ever-increasing pressures of Donna's hands as they tried in the most desperate sort of way to hurry his lips and tongue to her waiting, quivering, and very, very wet cave of love. Her body began to jerk, rippling away wildly with convulsive spasms.
"Oh, Bob, I ... it's torture, lover ... hurry ... please, please ... hurry...."
At last, at long last, his mouth found her vagina and he placed a warm, feathery-light sort of kiss on the gooey rim of her vulva ... and Donna began to moan and cry, her breath coming in short, loud bursts as she struggled to keep her lungs filled with air, and then her whole body began to move, erupting in violent and awesome anticipation of the trick's next ploy.
"Oh, Bob ... lover...."
The aroma of Donna's musk was strong and dark, strangely sweet ... and the trick paused to enjoy it for a moment or two before he went on to the meat of his task. He began simply enough with a long and surging sort of licking action which had his tongue traveling around and around the entire length of the raw and trembling lips there at the opening to that piece of volcanic passion ... and then he sent his fearless invader corkscrewing down into the wild and wondrous darkness of her wet and meaty, velvety-red Vesuvius.
"The clit," Donna screamed. "Please, oh, please ... get the clit, lover...."
The trick began to work the tip of his tongue feverishly through the folds of spongy flesh there at the top of her vulva-the heavy folds which kept hid den her hard, screaming clitoris. It twisted and lapped and swirled, that tongue did, digging away frantically in its search for that tragic little button of hot, pink, bursting flesh.
Finally, it found its target....
Donna let out a squeal of pure delight ... and then she jumped, high up into the air, her legs bowing like a frog as her buttocks shot up off the silken sheet ... and when it touched down again she immediately began to scoot it all over the surface of the bed, rolling about in a sort of zigzag pattern from side to side, twisting and writhing, howling out her fantastic sense of joy for all the world to hear.
Somehow, as her body continued to gyrate in the most impossible sort of manner, the trick managed to hang on to his tasty treasure, sucking and licking away at it like crazy ... and then, as the honey blonde fell quiet for a moment, he drew it up deeply into his mouth where his lips held it captive with their suction while his thick and heavy tongue whipped away like a vibrator across the tippy-most part of that fiercely angry cone of quivering, pink flesh.
"Oh, Bob," Donna cried. "I ... I don't know how much more of this ... this wonderful sort of insanity I can stand. Oh, lover ... easy ... Bob ... easy ... oh, lover ... lover...."
Donna began to whimper, sounding for all the world like a helpless puppy crying for mercy, but the trick never let up for a moment ... he continued with his piece of magic, his lips and tongue growing bolder, more reckless with each new stroke of his raw, explosive passion.
"Lover ... oh, lover ... oh, oh, ohhhhh...."
The trick got up on his knees, dug his fingers deeply into the soft, pliable flesh of Donna's backside and then lifted that part of her body up from the bed.
"Bob, oh ... what ... what are you doing?"
She began to wiggle, squealing in frantic protest, but the trick merely held her wildly gyrating vagina a bit tighter against his mouth ... and soon the only parts of her body that remained in direct contact with the surface of the bed were the heels of her feet and a spot about the size of a silver dollar at the back of her golden head.
Somehow, she managed to fill each of her hands with a sizable patch of the trick's hair ... and then she used those patches as if they were reins to guide and direct his lips and tongue here and there against the rip-tidal sort of action of her foaming pelvis.
"Don't stop, lover," she cried. "Oh, lover, lover ... please ... don't stop. Sweet lover ... oh, sweet, sweet man ... it's so wonderful...."
Her words sounded like the shrill wail of a siren, and they seemed to come from deep within her body, rising and falling in a pitch that was very nearly frightening with its terrible sense of urgency.
Suddenly, she grew quiet-unmoving.
All motion, all sound-indeed, life itself seemed to stop for the longest time, and then the tips of her toes began to quiver as a fresh and vibrant cry of joy made its way up from deep within her body and settled as a rolling sort of moan somewhere in her throat ... and as that quivering little motion there in her toes began to grow and made its way up her legs, the moan became a cry ... the cry became a scream, and ... the scream became the bellowing of an enraged jungle animal, and then she began to call out the trick's name at the top of her voice and that single word seemed to reverberate from the walls and ceiling of the room, growing louder and louder and louder, until at last it sounded like the roar of thunder during a tropical storm.
"I ... I'm so close, lover," she cried as her body began to twist and thrash, like a fish out of water, flopping about wildly. "Oh, Bob ... Bob ... I'm there, lover ... I'm cumming ... Bob ... I'm cumming ... oh, God, Bob ... I'm cumming-g-g-g-g...."
The battle which took place there within the listening inner walls of her vagina as muscles strained and shuddered and snapped seemed to rage for an eternity, but finally she was able to relax a bit and then she just seemed to go limp, collapsing back down onto the surface of the bed. She lay there, those patches of the trick's hair still within her hands, and waited while a seemingly endless series of rippling little after climaxes worked their way from her body.
"I ... oh, Bob ... I've never ... never, never had an orgasm like that before in my entire life. It was so hard and intense ... so wonderful ... oh, Bob, so beautiful and perfect...."
"I ... I'm glad you liked it," the trick said with a little shrug of his broad shoulders. He tried to grin but didn't quite make it. "And now, sweet woman ... oh, Donna, I've got some unmet needs of my own, and ... baby, the pain ... I'm afraid I'm going to dump this load of love I've built up all over your belly if we don't begin to pay some attention to those needs in one hell of a big hurry."
"Oh, I ... I'm sorry. Really, Bob, I...."
"Don't be sorry," the trick moaned.
"I guess I forgot that this was a business arrangement," Donna said, her sense of guilt giving birth to a tremor in her voice. "I ... I'm really sorry...."
"Later, baby. We can talk about it all you want ... only please, please ... later. Right now I ... oh, baby, I ... I ... I....
His manhood lay hard and red and angry at the entrance of her shimmering vagina, bobbing and jerking, quivering with the fiercest sort of need. Donna wrapped one of her arms around the trick's waist, slid the other one down between their sweat-drenched bodies, and then gently, lovingly curled her long, slen der fingers around the shank of his beautiful, agonized monster.
"Oh, Donna ... that's so nice ... so very, very nice," the trick said, and then settled his hot, hungry lips against her waiting mouth.
Donna spread her legs ... and then guided the head of his stiff, pulsing tool down into her hot, goo-filled witch's cauldron. It was so huge, the trick's beautiful monster, half again as big as anything she had ever known before ... and yet it seemed to slide so easily into her sheath, as if their organs had been made for one another.
"Donna, Donna ... oh, Donna...."
Suddenly, she pushed her legs out to the side and kicked them up into the air (drawing every last millimeter of his screaming tool down into the foaming madness that was her cave of love), and then she wrapped those legs tightly around the trick's waist.
"Sweet woman," the trick cried, his eyes big and round, gleaming with pleasure. "That's so nice ... so wonderful, and so ... so wet, my darling...."
It was Donna's turn to grin ... and grin she did, as insanely as a Cheshire cat.
For the longest time they merely lay there, motionless, enjoying a strange and wonderful sort of magic, as belly button kissed belly button and organ got acquainted with organ ... and then Donna began to move.
She did something with her hips, began to ease them oh, ever-so-gently from side to side, and that simple little action seemed to delight the trick. Gurgling little sounds of appreciation began to form in his throat and soon he began to respond to the gentle roll of Donna's hips with a motion of his own: he withdrew about an inch of his manhood from its hot and gooey prison and then forced that inch back down into it again ... and then, as Donna gradually increased the rhythm of her rolling hips, so, too, did the trick quicken the tempo of his action, driving harder and harder into that raw, bubbling cauldron with each new downward thrust of his bold and mighty penis. The syrupy mass of hot, hot flesh and hard, grinding muscle that was the inner wall of her vagina was like something he had never known before, like something alive and faintly magical-fiery and wet and throbbing with a joyous sort of promise.
"Oh, Donna...."
"Bob ... Bob...."
She cupped the fingers of one hand around the hard, hot, screaming agony that was his scrotal sac, and began to squeeze it gently, playfully ... and the trick responded to her touch with a long, lingering groan and then drove his thick, heavy tongue far down into the hot and fiery world of her mouth.
The flames of their passion soon grew so torrid that the trick began to ram his angry tool recklessly down into the hot and gooey mass of tortured flesh that was her quivering sheath, riding for all he was worth ... and Donna quickly altered the rhythm of her undulating hips to match the new tempo of his frantic lovemaking. She began to grind her dripping vagina up against him, slamming it up against each new downward stroke of his roll of sweet, sweet hanging meat, and then ripping it back as he began to withdraw ... and all the while the muscles within the inner wall of her vagina continued to wrap themselves around the trick's long and thundering invader, twisting and rubbing and jerking at it with a feverish sort of abandon.
"Ride, lover," Donna cried. "Ride, ride...."
"Oh, baby ... baby," the trick snorted. "I ... I'm almost there, baby ... right on the edge ... right on the ... oh, baby ... sweet, sweet woman...."
The sound of jungle drums began to pulse with his head, faintly at first, but growing louder and stronger with each passing micro-second. He closed his eyes ... and the rippling beat of the drums seemed to give birth to an explosion of brightly colored lights which whirled and danced their way madly across the seemingly endless expanse of black, black sky that was his mind. It was like the Fourth of July and Chinese New Year rolled into one, firecrackers popping, shooting off in every imaginable direction ... and the rhythm of the drums became frantic, wild and crazy, reflecting the intensity of his passion.
The trick got up on his knees, lifting Donna (her legs still wrapped tightly around his waist) up into his arms, and he held her there like that, her body completely off the surface of the bed, as he began to pile-drive his hard and screaming invader deeper and ever-deeper into her raw and dripping cave of love.
As if in a dream, he seemed to hear someone screaming ... howling and crying and groaning, and it was the longest time before he fully realized that all those strange, animal sorts of noises were actually coming from his mouth.
"Oh, Donna...."
He was there, at the raw and burning edgelights began to flash ... eagles began to scream ... trumpets began to sound, and then ... the explosion came, an ejaculation which seemed to take life in the deepest part of his soul ... a great and sprawling, great-grandfather of a climax, a climax that ripped its way up the back of his legs and into the hard, trembling agony that was his testicles-where it whipped around and around, crossing back and forth from one globe to the other-and then thundered its way up into the long and quivering shank of his screaming manhood before it finally spurted, thick and hot and creamy, like a great river flowing from the tiny, sightless eye there in the face of his penis.
"Oh, sweet woman," he cried. "Oh, baby ... so good, so good ... oh, Donna ... oh ... baby ... oh . ... oh ... oh ... "
Donna let out a little squeal of disappointment as the trick eased her dripping body back down onto the surface of the bed ... and then he just sort of collapsed, lifeless, right on top of her. He waited, unable to move, his eyes riveted shut and his body wracked with convulsions, as the bright, sprawling, swirling expanse of colors which had captured his mind finally faded and dissolved away in nothingness, like the echo of some half-forgotten scream.
"Oh, baby ... sweet baby...."
"I'm right here, lover," Donna cooed into his ear.
"I feel so ... so drained!"
"You just rest, lover...."
He nestled his face against Donna's shoulder, sighed a time or two, and then tried to roll out of the saddle ... but he didn't get very far before the honey-blonde stopped him, clamping her arms in a death grip around the still-quivering muscles of his shoulders.
"You're not going to leave me like this," she cried in a little whisper of a voice-a voice that seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Are you, lover....?"
"Like ... like what, Donna?"
"Oh, Bob ... lover," she cried. "That big, beautiful monster of yours has me all worked up again. I ... oh, I'm hurting, lover ... really, it's like all the fires of hell were exploding down there inside me."
"But ... but ... but, but...."
"Bob, I'm so close ... another thirty seconds and I would have gone off right with you."
"It's soft, Donna," the trick said, miserably. "Really, you ... you drained every last ounce of strength from it, baby...."
"Please, lover...."
"I can't; it's soft...."
"I WANT THAT BEAUTIFUL MONSTER...."
"Let ... let me eat you again, Donna!"
"NO ... NO ... NO," Donna screamed. "I NEED YOUR COCK. Oh ... oh, lover, please ... please let me have that sweet, sweet roll just one more time ... just for the littlest while, really...."
"But, I ... I...."
"Here, just let me get my hand down there again and-there, I've got it," Donna said, as once again she curled her soft, slender fingers around the shank of his manhood. She let out a squeal of pure delight and began to grind the head of his sad, lifeless tool against the hot and screaming mound of angry, pink flesh that was her clitoris.
"Oh, yeah ... oh, lover ... see ... see ... it doesn't have to be hard to get the job done," she cooed. "And besides, I think I feel it beginning to stir a little. Yes ... yes baby ... it is!"
"Oh, Donna...."
"Oh, lover ... yes...."
The trick's penis began to swell ... and suddenly it was hard and erect again, screaming with its sense of magical rebirth. He hesitated for a moment, as if he were afraid that his mind had played a horrible sort of trick on him ... but before very long he found himself easing that great and pulsing sword back down into the wonderfully wet goo of the golden one's cave of love, and in less time than it takes to tell he was once again ripping it in and out, in and out of that hotly churning witch's cauldron.
"Oh, yes," Donna cried, "Yes, lover...."
She wrapped her long, smoothly tapered legs around his waist once again and began to rock her hips from side to side, screaming at the top of her voice that she needed more ... more ... oh, dear God, please ... more....
The trick got up on his knees, slid his hands down under the ripe and rippling flesh of Donna's buttocks, filling each hand with a healthy chunk of the vibrant meat he found there, and then lifted that part of her body up from the bed, forcing much of the combined weight of their bodies back onto her shoulders ... and Donna began to squeal in a joyous sort of pleasure as his rock-hard invader seemed to fill every little nook and cranny of her hot and quivering, spunk-saturated vagina. Once again her muscles down there began to twitch and roll and caress the pulsing meat of his driving manhood.
"Oh, Bob ... lover ... what a wonderful lover you are," she cried. "Oh, Bob ... Bob...."
"Donna ... Donna...."
It was as if somehow she had wandered into the dream of some stranger, for everything was all so new to her ... so deliciously different than anything she had ever known before in her life. This was the kind of thing she had always hoped and prayed sex might be ... and if it were a dream, she decided, even some stranger's dream, she was nowhere near being ready to awaken.
The trick began to move like a man who had been possessed by demons. He rammed his manhood down into her fiery witch's cauldron, moving the fine edge of that mighty sword with a sense of complete abandon, as if the rippling walls within her cave of love had intoxicated him ... and he continued to wail away in anticipation of the explosive climax he knew lay just ahead of him.
Donna continued to moan, to cry out her sense of joy and fulfillment for all the world to hear ... and then the trick, too, began to moan, and for a long, long moment it seemed as if they had entered into some strange sort of contest, each one trying to outdo the other, crying and howling, screaming and groaning, shuddering with an awesome sense of expectation.
Suddenly, they hit ... raw and naked and beautiful ... twin climaxes which seemed to reach out to the stars and beyond and ripped away at their bodies like some hunger-crazed animal, exploding like jagged bolts of lightning across a dark and stormy sky.
"Oh, Bob ... lover...."
"Yes, baby ... yes, yes ... yes...."
It carried each of them further than either of them had ever gone before, and still it continued, rising up out of the ashes like a great and towering phoenix, sprawling and whirling like a fire-ball, like a bomb which had exploded in the palms of their hands ... higher and ever-higher, a wild and fierce ride on the tail of a comet across the furthest reaches of deep space. It left both of them trembling with exhaustion, sucking air into their lungs, as if the very last vestiges of strength had been pulled and drained from their sweat-bathed bodies.
"Oh, God, Donna ... what a beautiful thing."
"I know," Donna cried. "It was so ... so complete, so total, so ... so...."
"I don't have the words to describe it, either, baby, but ... oh, wow ... wow...!"
"You're such a wonderful lover," Donna said.
The trick tried to laugh, didn't quite make it. "That's weird," he said, a hint of something raw and sad and festering in his voice. "The only other person who ever said that that way was my wife ... and it's been so long ago that I very nearly forgot she said it."
"I didn't know you were married!"
"Most men my age are, Donna...."
"I know, but ... but...."
"Don't let it get to you, kid," the trick said. "My wife and I ... well, we have an understanding. So don't go worrying about her. Okay?"
"It's just that it was so beautiful, Bob-the thing that happened between us," Donna said, a note of some strange sort of panic creeping into her voice. "I mean, how can that be, Bob? How? Why?"
"It was beautiful, Donna ... so why question it? Why not just accept it ... and maybe say a little prayer of thanksgiving to whatever gods were responsible for allowing it to happen to us?"
"But, Bob...."
"No 'buts', Donna...."
"You don't understand," Donna cried out, the note of panic suddenly very obvious in her voice. "It's never been this good ... this fulfilling for me before. Look, Bob, I became a call girl because ... well, you know, it was the only way that I could complete my education. The idea of allowing a man to use my body in exchange for his money is so damn repugnant to me that it really messes with my head, but the knowledge that I could have had something so rich, so ... frighteningly wonderful as what happened to us come out of that situation just about destroys everything I've come to believe about sex."
"Well, if you think I'm going to apologize for making our thing something more than a bit of pleasant friction, well, Donna, you've got another think coming.
"I don't want you to apologize," Donna cried. "All I'm asking is that you help me gain some insight into what took place between us."
"I'm lousy at analysis, Donna...."
"But, Bob...."
"Donna, my brain isn't functioning at the moment," the trick said. "I'm so tired, baby ... really...."
"Can we talk some other time?"
"If you really want to...."
Donna allowed her legs to slip from around the trick's waist ... and then she allowed her whole body to settle back down onto the surface of the bed.
"You know," she said. "I'm pretty darn tired myself."
The trick smiled and kissed the tip of her nose before he crawled over to a vacant place beside her on the bed and collapsed. Within moments, they were both fast asleep.