Chapter 10
The plan worked beautifully up to a point. There was still the orgy to come and Mike knew that anything could happen at an orgy. It could turn ugly in a minute ... police could crash through locked doors at any time ... a girl could go berserk ... drugs were bound to be in use ... there were so many things that made an orgy dangerous ... and exciting.
The cannery was rented for the night and Mike sent a crew in to decorate it and place hidden cameras. Once things got going, there would be no need for concealment, but, until then, it was best to be discreet. Word was put out to the proper people and Scott lied to his wife with admirable ease. Reluctantly, he had to drive up to San Jose and attend a dinner for a client.
Only men were invited. "It's probably going to be a late thing so I might check in a hotel some place and drive home the next day."
"Whatever you think is right, honey."
Scott kissed his wife goodnight and goodbye and walked to the car whistling, barely able to conceal his glee at going to his first orgy.
At Marsha's house, after a stiff cocktail, he changed into his costume: Pierrot with a cape and mask. Marsha was dressed in a revealing harem costume that was cut daringly low on the hips, revealing her navel and barely covering her bulging breasts, showing her deep cleavage. Her face was covered with a veil, revealing only her eyes which were wickedly made up.
They had two strong drinks to get them in the mood, then they drove to Monterey over the Carmel cutoff, coming down to Cannery Row through Tortilla Flats. They drove to the far northern end of Cannery Row, away from all the shops and restaurants and down to where the big canneries sat dark and deserted.
"Say, maybe it's been called off," Scott said weakly.
"Chicken." Marsha grinned behind her veil. "What do you think we're going to do? Put a spotlight out here and have big signs ... This Way To The Orgy?"
Scott had to laugh. "Which cannery is it?"
"That one, the big white one."
"It's all dark."
"Mike and his friends draped the windows, stupid."
They parked the car and walked to the cannery with Scott feeling self-conscious in his costume. He noticed that a lot of cars-expensive ones-were parked near the cannery. They let themselves in through a side door and were immediately met by a big Negro who solemnly asked them for their invitations with a business-like attitude. Marsha produced the invitation and they passed on, the Negro instructing them to go to the back of the cannery. They walked alongside a huge boiler with bolts studding its sides.
They came to the back of the cannery and could hear the rush of waves under the building. The back of the cannery was one big room dramatically lighted by spots that had been cleverly placed above. Cool, insinuating jazz was being played over speakers placed along the walls. Stuffed chairs and long low couches were grouped around a platform. The platform had been especially built for the occasion and was painted black with a mattress covered in black lying on top of it. The platform was built more to delineate rather than elevate and it was easy to see the mattress when sitting in the chairs or couches.
Incense wafted through the air and a portable bar had been set up. Early arrivers congregated with drinks in their hands, talking and looking at one another from behind concealing masks.
Scott felt an ambivalent thrill as he looked around the huge old cannery that was so dramatically lighted by spots. He was nervous and tentative, afraid someone would see through his disguise and find him out ... it would be bad for his career if he should be found out. At the same time, accounting for the ambivalence, he was also secretly thrilled by the situation. There was something so evil, something so suggestively lewd in hiding behind a mask and costume with the intention of doing wild and wicked things.
He stood by Marsha and looked around the room, a wildly exciting throbbing and swelling growing in his penis. It could be a night he would never forget. There were all sorts of interesting-looking women standing around in all sorts of revealing and tantalizing costumes.
One in particular caught his eye.
He moved across the floor, almost forgetting Marsha, toward the bar, getting himself a drink as he eyed the girl in the angel costume. He tried to drift around the room, nodding and making polite small talk to masked guests, and get closer to the girl in the revealing and far-from-saintly angel costume.
It was almost as if she was playing cat and mouse with him. She was elusive, seeming to move away whenever he got near her, always keeping people between them. The room was filling rapidly with latecomers and Scott's head was always turning to catch the flash of a naked thigh or look with glittering lust in his eyes at the full, ample cleavage of some new arrival.
Despite himself, he never got a clear look at the angel. She was always on the other side of the crowd, always retreating whenever he moved toward her. Yet ... he could swear that she saw him, that she glanced his way and smiled at him with a curiously knowing little smile. He frowned behind his mask, suspecting he might know her, for there was something familiar about the way she glanced at him.
The girl dressed as an angel was all in white. She wore a fancy face-mask that glittered with white sequins. She wore a towering white wig, a powdered wig that reminded him of the corrupt and depraved court of Louis XIV. Yet it was her snow-white robe, her gossamer gown that caught his eye and excited his lust.
The gown revealed more than it concealed. It was simply two panels or lengths of shimmering white cloth hanging in front and back. It was more than slit up the sides: except for a couple of flimsy drawstrings, the angel girl stood naked.
Scott took in her naked form and felt his cock hardening under his own costume. He could see the girl's naked and shapely leg and thigh and hip and waist. He could see her naked torso on up to and including her opulent and swelling breasts. Whenever the girl moved, he caught the flash and supple power of her thighs, the silky molding of her stomach, the bounce and quiver of her large thrusting breasts. He could see her nipples barely covered by the white material as they jutted out and almost seemed to thrust through the flimsy cloth. Once, as she turned from him, he saw a breathtaking glimpse of her fully rounded buttocks. They quivered firmly and rocked up and down in an enticing way as she walked. They were like two huge balls pressed together ... almost too big but not quite. Scott decided he had never seen such a high, proud, thrusting ass and he longed to cup its fullness in his hands as he fucked the angel girl.
She had a drink in her hand and looked across the room, directly at him. A strangely familiar and disturbing smile, a smile of pure depravity and sensual pleasure, spread her ruby lips. Slowly, teasingly, in a casual way, she put all her weight on one leg and stood with one big curving hip thrust wantonly and provocatively out. Scott swallowed hard as he looked at her enticing nakedness. It was brazen the way she was so undressed in front of strangers. He caught a quick glimpse of her black pubic hair as she moved and his cock jumped once again.
He had to grin at the girl as she moved around. Two little innocent white angel wings had been taped to her back. He shook his head in admiration as she walked away from him, wiggling that voluptuously firm ass as she walked.
He felt Marsha at his side. She too was smiling and watching the angel girl. "I could die of thirst around you."
"Huh?"
Marsha smiled from behind her mask, swinging her hips in imitation of the angel girl. "I asked you for a drink way back and you went off to get it and then spotted that unidentified flying object."
"Who is she?"
Marsha smiled and began to sing in his ear in her throaty voice, "I'm just an angel in disguise...."
"Come on, who is she?"
"Where's my drink?"
"I'll get it in a minute. Who is she?"
"That," said Marsha with a nod of her head, "is first prize."
"Prize? Huh?" Scott asked the question more to cover his excitement than his ignorance. He knew, with a quick, low chuckle, just what Marsha meant. She was going to be raffled off ... that little angel was going to belong to somebody ... and that somebody could probably do anything he wanted with that little smiling angel. He licked his lips in anticipation as his excited mind ran over the possibilities. He nodded to himself, thinking: this is going to be some night.
"You know, if I was a camel, I wouldn't mind waiting while you drooled to your heart's content. Besides, baby, you did come with me."
"Huh? Yeah, sure." Stung by the gibe, he went obediently to the bar. He had been giving the angel the hard-stare treatment. He got back to Marsha with two drinks just in time to see her talking to the angel. Both of them were smiling. The angel said something as he was threading his way through the crowd toward them. The angel fled away, slipping past people, smiling teasingly back over her naked shoulder.
Scott handed Marsha her drink. "You know her! Who is she and what was she saying?"
Marsha laughed and toasted him with her drink. "Bottoms up ... in more ways than one!"
Scott gulped his drink and peered into the crowd for any glimpse of the angel girl. An excitement was pumping through the veins of his swelling cock. More than that, an electric, pulsating excitement was sweeping the room. Mass excitement possessed everyone as the dangerous and pure raw lust of the event gripped everyone.
Couples were beginning to become uninhibited and men and women exchanged intimate caresses. Drinks were being consumed at a rapid hysterical rate and people were becoming visibly drunken and careless with their hands. Couples were sitting on the couches and stuffed chairs and playfully, openly, caressing one another. From somewhere in the room came the pungent odor of burning hemp: marijuana and hashish. Scott smelled the sickly sweet odor and tensed ... then, quickly, he shrugged and drained his glass.
Each to his own, he thought. He would have none of it. His eyes narrowed as he made his way to the bar. He would have some of that angel cake all to himself.
He stood at the bar with Marsha, looking around, watching the surrealistic scene going on before him. Something out of a black mass or witches' sabbath. Masked men and women were all around the room and all around him and Marsha, some near enough to touch. He couldn't believe his eyes. Near him was a blonde, half lying on a couch in a can-can dancer's costume. A man dressed as a masked priest had stripped her large breasts free and was rudely and roughly fondling them.
The girl half slumped on the couch, her head thrown back. Her hands pulled up her can-can dress and Scott saw her full thighs encased in sheer black silk. He saw her red garter belt holding the black stockings up and he saw her white flesh and then the dark, hairy wetness of her pouting vaginal lips. He was looking down and seeing a strange girl's cunt wantonly exposed as she invitingly spread her legs and smiled languidly up at him.
Someone was controlling the spotlights and they were beginning to dim and narrow their cones of light. A lusty, heated excitement swept the big room as the lights dimmed down just enough to make everything fuzzy. The vastness of the cannery vanished in the dark.
At the same time, light was increasing on the platform and the mattress. A cone of bright light was cutting down dramatically in the dark, calling attention to the center of the circle. Couples gravitated to chairs and couches. Thick rugs with pillows strewn around on the floor served as harem-chairs as everyone was drawn around the platform and the mattress much the way moths flutter hysterically around a light, drawn to their doom with a passion.
It was easy to see why they gathered around. Standing on the platform under the bright light was Mike. He was dressed in a scarlet devil's costume complete with a forked tail. His grin was sardonic behind his devil's mask as his eyes swept the upper reaches of the cannery. The walls and ceiling were lost in darkness and that was just the way he wanted things to be. None of the guests would see or be bothered by the camera crews that were swinging silently into position, focussing in with various lenses. Mike knew it was going to work just fine with telephoto lenses in place. The room, the platform, the people were covered from every possible angle.
Mike raised his hands for quiet and to stall, to make sure his crews were in place and the cameras grinding.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. All invited guests are now here and I've been told that the cannery doors are locked and guarded." He pointed one finger up. "Remember, in case of trouble, the guards will give you all the time they can." His grin was malevolent as he looked at the revelers around him. They looked like they were attending a lewd Mardi gras. "And remember that your identity is your own business. One final warning. There is only one rule: no rough stuff unless somebody asks for it."
Dramatically, Mike stepped aside and beckoned into the crowd. A gasp and murmur went up as Sheila, dressed as a lascivious angel, stepped into the cone of light and stood provocatively by the mattress which was covered in black. She contrasted wildly with her surroundings, in her skimpy white gown. Even as everyone watched, taking in her semi-nakedness, one breast quivered free from the flimsy material and her nipple was freed and was pointed and ripe as a plum. Most of her globular breast trembled free and greedy eyes took in its round loveliness. Sheila seemed not to notice or know.
It was obvious from the way she walked, weaving loosely, that she had been drinking. To the initiated, to other users, it was obvious she was drugged on dope, for her mouth was slack and smiling absently.
Everyone watched as she raised her hands above her head and slowly turned around for all to see.
"A prize for the night!" Mike called out. "An angel for the person or person holding the winning invitation."
Another gasp and a low excited murmur went up as people leaned forward or moved closer. Scott felt his pulse hammering in his wrist as Marsha pressed her body against his and her hand lewdly and holding caressed his cock and fumbled for the zipper. Both of them had their eyes glued to the stage as Scott fondled her breasts.
"Your invitations are numbered." Mike walked around the edge of the platform, holding an invitation aloft. Couples broke their exhibitionistic embraces to find their invitations. "To the winner goes this angel. The winners ... or winner ... male or female ... or both ... may have this lovely young thing. And ... you may do whatever you like." The room was abuzz with heated excitement as people talked to one another urgently, never taking their eyes from the stage. Bets were made and deals worked out.
The room was lust-drenched and excitement crackled in the air as Scott looked at the tempting angel on the platform. His hand was sweaty as he clutched his invitation. Marsha's breath was coming fast as she pulled his rock-hard prick free from his pants and slowly began stroking it as her depraved eyes took in Sheila standing on the stage.
"Anything you like," Mike repeated, "with only one little catch."
The cannery was suddenly so still that surf could be heard washing in under the concrete floor. The room was quiet as eyes hidden behind masks glinted and became wary. The angel was tempting, but what was the catch?
"Anything you like. Anything at all," Mike intoned, "so long as the rest of us can watch!"
The room exploded in a hot hissing rush. Women were cat-like and men felt brutal savage surges in their loins. Scott felt more crude and primitive than ever before in his life. Nervously, a few vestiges of respectability remaining, he glanced around to see if anyone noticed Marsha stroking his cock.
No one was looking. In fact, he saw one young girl bent over the back of a chair, her dress pulled up and her black panties pulled down around her ankles. Her naked buttocks were completely exposed with her cunt blossoming nakedly between them.
As Scott and Marsha watched, a man, stark naked and powerfully built, his thick turgid cock held in one fist, stepped behind the girl and spread the cheeks of her ass with the fingers of one hand and guided his blunt swollen prick into her throbbing cunt. He sawed in and out slowly and Scott saw the bent-over girl lift her head and gaze at the angel up on the platform with a depraved look in her eyes and a sensual slack smile on her lips.
Scott darted his eyes back to the angel as Marsha squeezed his thick prick and increased her tight stroking rhythm. Scott felt drunk enough and horny enough to admit that if he won, he would fuck that little bitch silly right in front of everyone. He would satisfy himself completely with the wild woman, then toss her off. The thought of dominating the angel and debasing her and humiliating her in front of all those strangers sent a dark pounding excitement coursing through his loins.
What the hell, he thought, it's only once. One time and never even know her name. Why not?
A low rumbling, a fervent muttering went on in the room as a young girl carried a wastebasket up on the platform. The angel, looking away, put one hand in and came out with a slip of paper.
The room was absolutely quiet, and again the gentle rush of the waves could be heard under the cannery. Scott heard the rustle of Marsha's clothing as she sank to her knees. He swayed drunkenly, knowing he would soon feel her hotly wet tongue on his fevered cock. He tore his eyes from the stage and saw that no one was watching him. The girl was still bent over the back of the chair and the man was still brutally and slowly sawing in and out of her cunt, his cock glistening now. The girl's back was still arched as she raised her head and watched Sheila.
The angel, Sheila, coyly handed the devil the winning invitation that would determine her fate.
Mike took the paper and read it. He seemed to read it forever as everyone in the cannery held their breath. His smile was satanic as he looked out and slowly said, "The winner is number twenty-three."
A roar went up and a man, dressed as a king, jumped up. "Me! That's me, me and my friend!"
Another man, dressed as a judge in a black robe and mask, jumped up, grinning evilly. "He's right. We made a deal increasing our chances."
Mike stepped aside with a wave of the arm toward Sheila, indicating to the two men that she was all theirs. "Any number or combination can play. She's all yours provided we can watch."
Hearts seemed to triphammer as one and the temperature in the great cannery seemed to shoot up. Men and women were throwing off their clothing and inhibitions.
Marsha's pulpy tender lips closed around Scott's extended cock and he fell back against the bar in order to keep his balance. His hand hit a bottle and he grabbed it and drank straight from the bottle, gasping at the hot whiskey splashing in his stomach. He was getting a blow job par excellence from Marsha while watching a girl wantonly offering her body up on the platform.
The two men quickly mounted the platform, leaving their dates behind. The old cannery was charged now with a wild orgiastic quality. Clothes and even masks were coming off. Scott Baines leaned back against the makeshift bar as Marsha kneeled in front of him. He looked down and saw his erect cock, wet with her saliva, slipping smoothly in and out of her soft hot mouth.
He looked up at the platform again. The two men were giving the angel rough treatment. Exactly what she deserves, he thought. He watched as they literally tore her flimsy costume from her, revealing her charcoal-black pubic hair. The angel still retained her mask and white wig ... but something jarred at Scott. Those huge, firm, jiggling breasts ... those strong thighs ... those magnificently shaped buttocks ... that slender stomach above ample hips ... it was all familiar.
He had drunk too much and was too excited as Marsha sucked his cock and all around him he saw naked men and women caressing and fucking and sucking. On some couches three and four people writhed together, unmindful of who they caressed or fondled. Up on the stage the two men were naked and they pressed the angel between them ... one behind, pushing his cock up against her rubbery buttocks ... the other in front, roughly fondling her breasts.
The angel's hips writhed and churned as if they were on oiled ball bearings and Scott watched in a sexual delirium as he felt his own violent cum mounting.
He watched as the angel voluntarily sank to her knees between the two men, her hands reaching for their stiffly erect cocks. She was the center of attention now as everyone watched. Even Marsha turned her head slightly and rolled her eyes to see what was going on.
Scott watched as the masked angel licked first one cock, then the next, as the two men stood closer together, pushing their rigid members into her face. The angel began sucking sweetly on the cocks, taking her time, her red bee-stung lips wetly open. The men were beginning to seize her by the wig and roughly fuck in and out of her mouth and the angel greedily sucked away, her hands reaching behind and cupping the cheeks of their tense asses and urging them on.
Scott and Marsha watched with Scott's eyes half closed and his breathing growing deep and rhythmic. He was going to have an orgasm in Marsha's mouth, right there, in public, while watching the most uninhibited thing he had ever seen.
He longed to get a crack at the angel. She was more than a whore or slut, she was possessed ... she was the kind of woman who would do anything and he had a few ideas of what he'd like to do to her ... things he had never done to a woman before. He felt his legs trembling with a wild desire as he watched the two men and the angel growing wilder and more abandoned.
They were really treating her roughly, manhandling her in a gleeful way, and the angel seemed to like it and grow more excited and brazen with the rough treatment. One man knelt on the mattress and then spread his legs and leaned back on his haunches, his big prick glistening with the angel's saliva. Reaching up, he roughly pulled her down, seizing her hard and twisting her around. He forced her down on her knees in front of him and then made her bend over, hurting her, gripping her by the back of the neck with one hand and forcing her head down where her eager mouth greedily sucked at his cock, taking it deeply in her mouth.
He held her firmly by the head. The angel, Sheila, was sprawled on the black mattress, her body standing out in clear definition against the black backdrop. She was sprawled kneeling, her head brutally forced down to suck a penis while her hips and buttocks were thrust up higher than her head, her whole body, her cunt, her fulsome hips and twinned buttocks lewdly displayed to all.
The second man dropped to his knees behind her, his rampant cock held in one hand. He moved up to her buttocks and seized her hips in either hand.
Scott watched, moaning out loud, as his cock swelled near to an orgasm in Marsha's mouth. Marsha, as if by instinct, increased the rhythm of her sucking, driving toward an orgasm. Scott moaned and began pumping his hips in and out of Marsha's tenderly warm mouth as he watched the angel with the two men.
The moment Sheila felt his hard hands gripping her she began undulating, pumping, writhing her hips back and forth and around, spreading her knees, offering up her plump buttocks to the man behind her.
Scott watched, sweating behind his mask, as the thickly bloated cock sank home in the slippery glistening pussy of the angel. He saw how tightly it fit yet how lubricated it was. And he saw how the angel reacted. She went wild, sucking her cheeks hollow as her hips pumped lasciviously, fucking the man behind, who held on for dear life.
Scott watched, seeing a beautiful girl possessed ... he watched, nearly ecstatic, and saw the angel's breasts dancing tightly beneath her body as she sucked and fucked at the men with a hungry insanity. He groaned aloud, his gaze growing frizzy, as he saw other men ... and women ... mounting the black platform. The orgy had reached fever pitch ... anything could happen. Scott was wild with lust as he thought he would cold-bloodedly shoot his cum in Marsha's mouth while watching the wild activity around him and then he would mount the platform.
The scene in front of him was incredible as he saw the angel being wildly fucked from both ends. People were crowding around, caressing her body from all sides wherever they could. People were crowding around and caressing each other and the angel's wig was slipping off....
Panting, Scott caught glimpses of her bobbing head as the white powdered wig slipped off the fell to the mattress and the girl's long black hair tumbled loose.
Scott felt numb, as if he had been hit with a bolt of lightning as he thought he knew who the angel was. His body stiffened and his head shot up as he caught another glimpse of the angel with her mask slipping askew....
SHEILA!
He had to make sure as, with a roar, he pulled himself free from Marsha's lascivious laugh. He heard her hoarse mocking laughter behind him as he charged like a water buffalo toward the platform. He bellowed when naked sweating bodies parted for a minute and he saw the angel's face greedily, eagerly, sucking on a cock.
He went through naked bodies like a bowling ball through tenpins. He crashed with a roar on his wife and the two masked men. He had only one thought in mind-kill!
He grabbed the man who was so wildly fucking his wife in the cunt from behind and tore him loose. Before the man could yell or say a word, before anyone could move, Scott threw a right cross that caught the man on the side of the jaw and knocked him over and out.
Scott wheeled like a demon and was on his wife, Sheila. He grabbed her and whirled her, tearing off her mask. "You rotten bitch!" he bellowed and slapped her hard, her head spinning and her eyes opened wide. They both went down under an avalanche of men rushing to stop Scott. Sheila wiggled free and crawled to one side to watch as Scott bellowed and fought with insane might. It took six men to stop him, to get him wrestled to the ground and held there, panting and sobbing. "I'll get you, you bitch!" he bellowed.
Sheila was up on her feet and it was the real Sheila! She was like a cat, crouched, her features feline. "Bitch, am I?" she snarled, crouching defiantly in front of her husband. "And what are you?" she shrieked in his face.
The cannery was silent, caught in a tension as Scott's sweating chest heaved as the two of them looked at one another.
"What were you and Marsha doing over at the bar?" Sheila was savagely mocking as she went on. "Oh, that was all right. How about all that you've done with Marsha? Is that all right, too?"
Sheila raked her hand through her mane of hair. "I may be a bitch ... I may be a whore ... I may not have any morals at all ... what about yourself?"
The cannery was quiet as Sheila whispered. "If I'm bad ... what are you?"
Marsha's laugh broke the silence. "What are we all?"
It was a signal and laughter broke out. Sheila laughed and looked wantonly at Scott as she accepted the sweeping embrace of a strange man. Scott saw his wife spreading her legs to take his hand cupping her cunt. He saw Sheila's hips wildly pump while her feral, feline gaze was on him.
She was brazen, daring, seeming to say ... are you man enough for me?
Men relaxed their grips as the danger of the moment was caught up in the continuing flood of excitement. The orgy went on, made all the more enticing by the danger. There was the scent of gunpowder and cunt in the air. Scott lay on the mattress, watching his wife above him. Some stranger was sawing his two fingers in and out of her cunt while her hands fondled another man's cock. She looked down at her husband, her mouth open, her tongue licking wetly out.
Scott got to his feet and took off his mask, his face like stone as he looked at his wife. His anger was now cold, furious, restrained ... and ... sexual.
Everyone sensed it. Men stepped away from Sheila and looked at Scott. Everyone was now looking at Scott, including Sheila who stood naked and brazen.
They fought in a silent white heat with Scott easily, almost contemptuously overcoming her. Sheila had to grimace with pain under his bone-breaking grip. He forced her down and she snarled her defiance, eager to prove she was his match ... and more ... in any sexual match.
He forced her down, almost throwing her prone on the mattress and spinning her over on her stomach and pinning her with a powerful grip.
It seemed to dawn on Sheila at the same time it did all the others present just what Scott was going to do. There was no denying his implacable fury or his brutal intention.
He split the cheeks of his wife's full ass wide apart with his hands while his thumb crudely pressed on her puckered anus.
Sheila's face was distorted by the pain and she cried out. But something else was contorting her face: the knowledge of what Scott was going to do!
He was on top of her, his thick arms pinning her down on her stomach, his big cock pressed the full length of her fleshy crevice. She could feel the bottom of his iron-hard cock pressed against her taut and tensed anus. She looked about her with a pleading look, almost defeated, for she knew no one would help her. It was her battle alone to fight and ... as she looked at the faces crowded around ... she knew no one would help her. She thrashed about, knowing her position was hopeless and helpless. Those faces around her ... they were enjoying her predicament!!
Sheila's head was jammed down hard into the mattress as her husband's hand held her by the nape of the neck. She felt the thickly brutal head of his cock pressed against the elastic nether ring of her anus. He had wedged his cock down between her buttocks and was holding it there while he shifted his weight.
She squirmed, trying to close her legs, but Scott had his knees between them and he was slowly, inexorably, forcing her legs wider and wider apart. Sheila fought once more with all her strength but it was to no avail ... Scott was forcing himself into place where he would ram it up her ass.
She gritted her teeth. She had asked for it ... she had defied and taunted him ... she had never really been dominated in the way that she wanted to be dominated. She fought with her hands, trying to reach behind her and scratch and claw with her nails.
-In response, Scott brutally seized her wrists and held them together behind her, causing her to wince from the pain. Wordlessly, someone tossed him a belt and he tied her wrists together hard, causing her circulation to stop in her hands.
People crowded close, naked bodies pressing against one another, touching, caressing, fondling as they watched. Scott was over his wife with a savage look of cold feral fury on his face. Slowly he leaned his weight and pushed down on his wife.
"AAaaaggghhhhhhhhhaaaaaa!!!"
Sheila's scream was muffled in the mattress as the head of his cock pushed and painfully spread her anal canal, stretching it taut and causing her to scream.
"N ... N ... nnnooooOOOO!!!"
She screamed again and begged as the mushroom head plopped lewdly home, caught in her rectum as her elastic ring snapped tight on the shaft.
Even Scott winced at the pain. It was a tight fit. Nevertheless, he was determined to fuck his wife until she knew who was boss. Snarling, he began sawing in and out, thrusting deeper into her rectum with each thrust. Sheila was jerking and screaming with pain. Her face was sweaty and distorted, her eyes desperate. She thought she was going to be ripped apart by her husband, that she was going to pass out from the pain.
An insane sadistic pleasure swept through Scott. He had never felt this way before. A sense of power, of total pleasure pulsed through him. He was going to humiliate his wife and enjoy it ... he was going to take an unholy glee in so debasing her in public. Nothing, nothing, could be more exciting!....
He began fucking her rectum with a wild brutal abandon, pumping in and out, driving deep and feeling her wince and hearing her scream.
Then ... a thing happened ... a thing that was to set the orgy off again ... a thing that allowed wild and wanton behavior to explode everywhere.
Sheila's crying and sobbing was muffled and turning to moans ... moans of delicious delight!! Even as people watched, they saw her giving in, relaxing, her face changing ... changing from a look of torment to one of depraved delight! Her eyes held a look of masochistic pleasure as her buttocks began thrusting up. "F ... F ... FUCK MEEEE!!"
Scott fucked into his wife's asshole with a malicious glee, feeling her tension subside and her agitated hip-pumping begin. He fucked her wildly, his teeth gritted, grunting, "Who's boss??"
Sheila's face twitched, then grinned with pain and pleasure. "Y ... y ... you, gooooooodd! YOU!!"
Scott smiled savagely. He wasn't through with Sheila yet ... he still had something to teach her. He laid his heavy weight full on her and seized her shoulders with his hands, his cock tightly buried in her rectum. With all his might, he pulled her over, over on top of him.
Sheila felt herself being turned and allowed him his way, rolling over so that she lay on top of him, her legs completely spread open, her hungry cunt jutting and exposed. She let out a moan and let her head fall back limply, her eyes half shut in near masochistic ecstasy. The men were upon her ... she was going to be sandwiched and fucked in every possible way. A hot rigid prick forced its way into her mouth ... she was being savagely fucked in the cunt by someone ... hard, hot, heavy cocks were in her hands ... and over all she heard Marsha's hoarse laugh.