Chapter 4
Doughy hands massaging me. I was back in my room, in the huge, canopy bed, and the five-fingered cushions were kneading and rubbing my body. Who was it? I wondered. But I was too comfortable to open my eyes. I had passed out, I knew. Yet it was not like before: not like the time in the cellar, not unpleasant. Now there was a lovely warmth like maple syrup clinging to my insides.
A damp cloth touched my skin. I squirmed. I was being washed. Gently. Soothingly. I sighed and lay still once more, allowing the hand, the cloth, to proceed unhampered.
I thought about Lonny, crazy Lonny. Now, alone with whoever was moving the wet rag over my belly, then rinsing, then soaping, I couldn't believe I had actually urged the brute on. Yet I had. I could tell by the soreness, the stretched emptiness where the warm cloth was scrubbing. Where the fingers were searching.
Fingers? My God! What in the world were the doughy fingers doing down there?
"Wha-?"
"Lie still," Rhonda ordered.
I blinked. I watched her move to the night table, dip the rag in a washbasin, wring it, brush hair from her brow, return to the bed and apply the lukewarm, sudsy water to my soft inner thighs. I jumped. The blowsy old bitch! I cried mentally. How dare she!
"Mr. Brent says you're to be ready to receive him at five," said the maid. Without batting an eye, she shoved an end of the washcloth up my swollen cunthole.
"Hey!" I sat up, slapped her hand away. Remembering what Lonny had said, about the maid and the cot, and the sucking, I was suddenly hypersensitive about being nude in her presence. I folded my arms over my breasts. Defiantly I stared.
Rhonda sniffled. "I was merely obeying orders. Mr. Brent doesn't like to be kept waiting, and-well, you're filthy with spunk down there." She pointed a straight, stubby, accusing finger at my wedge.
Hot blood rushed to my face. She was right. I could feel the goo inside, and the crusted cum in my cute little blonde curls. I could have washed it myself. But I was mortified, close to tears, and too embarrassed to protest further when she touched my shoulder, pressed me gently back into the pillows, and began to rub the wet rag between my legs. I looked away. My gaze swept the room; settled on the drapes at either side of the high, cut glass windows. I studied the intricate design. How had I gotten back to the bedroom? I wondered. Brent had left the house that morning, I knew. Rhonda? Had she carried me back? She was strong enough. I could tell by the fingers digging the slop from my sex. It seemed to take a long time-too long! Yet the touch was soothing. And the maid, I reminded myself, is a woman: a woman who, according to Lonny, likes cocks.
"You're built very close," Rhonda observed, bending with her sweaty face very close to my pussy. "Unbelievable! How in the world did you manage that giant's roscoe?"
Again the blood rushed to my cheeks. The old pig! I thought: forty, if she's a day, and worse than Lonny because she had taken advantage of the overgrown nitwit, and now-I was certain-getting too chummy with me. "That's none of your business!" I snapped.
Rhonda shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you'll want someone to talk to before they finish with you. The others did."
I blanched. "O-others?"
She nodded. She returned too eagerly to cleaning my cunthole. Her fingers pressed deeper than before. I yipped. "Mr. Phelps sends one over every now and then," she hurriedly said. "But you're the first they've let the big fella get next to. Usually Mr. Brent, Mr. Phelps and the chauffeur keep the girls for themselves. Until they're fucked out."
Oh, my God! I thought. What have I gotten myself into? "Wha-what h-h-happens to...?"
"The girls? Oh, they go home or leave town. They never tell because then they'd have to say what was done. You know-like Mr. Brent's hang-up on sweet young assholes." Her fingers slipped into mine. "Like this one, she whispered. "Ummm!"
I was so horrified I hardly knew what she was doing. The chauffeur! I thought. I had seen him the day I arrived ... short, built like a tank, blue-black and with eyes like hot coals. I moaned-partially from the thought of a stiff, black cock poking my belly, but primarily because Rhonda, now half-lying, half-sitting beside me on the bed, had dropped the washcloth, and was fucking her fingers into both my sore hairy holes. "Oh! Oh stop!" I told her. "Not you. N-n-not a woman. I-I'm not-ow-ow-ow-owwwww! I-I-I-I'M NOT QUEER!"
The maid paid no attention to me. Her mouth came down on the tip of one breast. She sucked and drove her fingers deep in my sex, in my asshole, while I struggled and tried to push her away. Her thumb and stubby forefinger captured my clit. She jerked.
"OHAH! OWWWWWWWW!" I couldn't keep my hips still. I felt dirty-perverted! But my little pink soldier stood tall ... leaping ... seeking her knowing touch. My nipples hardened. The breath caught in my throat.
"You're the hottest one yet," choked Rhonda. "The last one, Midge, was good. But your little blonde pussy! I love it! I love every hair, the tightness. The heat!" She flattened her hand on my wedge, rubbed and rubbed. With her free hand, she lifted her dress. She was naked beneath.
"Nooo!" I tried to yank my hand away. But she was too strong. Holding my wrist in her vise-like grip, she guided my fingers to the forest of brillo-like black shrubbery atop and between her heavy, mature thighs.
"Oh dear. Oh, that's good." Rhonda set her big hips in motion. "Um! I, ahhh! Oh! I love that!"
I recoiled at the size of her slimy clitoris. Like a thin, raw hard-on, it protruded from her fat cuntlips. She held my fingers to the hideous thing. Her own hand worked incessantly at the tinier, sensitive mushroom inside my vulva. I couldn't resist. I pressed my bush into the palm of her hand. I felt the hot tongue washing my nipples, closed my eyes, and tried to think only of the pleasure building at the core of my being. I thought about Brent: about what he would do to me later that night. About his long, veiny cock! I envisioned it entering the tight niche below my white-blonde springy muff. I could imagine the bloated glans, almost as huge, as incredible, as the one that had rammed me from behind while Lonny-crazy, wonderful Lonny-yelped and called me "best pussy."
"Wait!" Rhonda leaped from the bed.
"Oh-!" Chewing my lips, half crazy with desire, I watched her strip the dress from her squat body. Her tits were enormous: two footballs, with pointed, red-brown puckered peaks. My gaze traveled down, over the paunch of her belly, to the mass of kinky hair that began at her navel and widened into a V-shaped rug. I could see her clit. It stood away from the depression at the top of her cuntlips ... vibrating, it seemed. My throat filled with saliva.
Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Rhonda moved loving hands over my body. Her touch was featherlight. She toyed with my breasts until the nipples quivered and ached. She cooed as I lifted my hips into her searching fingers. I watched her head lower ... slowly ... inching closer and closer and closer to my nipping wet cunthole. Then she was there: mouth open, tongue licking my slit.
I reached for her. It seemed the most natural thing. "Let ... let me d-do you," I breathed.
"Darling!" Quickly Rhonda rearranged her doughy body. She straddled my face, knees at either side of my head. "Eat me!" she cried. "Suck Rhondie's cunt. Suck it!"
I stared into the dripping wet folds of her twat. It was the ugliest thing! And the smell! I recalled what Lonny had said: dead fish! It was worse than that ... a musty, foul odor that reminded me of the swampland outside town where Steve and I had played as children.
"Oheeee-!" My hips shot high off the bed to meet her darting tongue. I watched her big cunt come slowly down. I looked into her stinking asshole. She seemed to be one continuous gash-beginning at the top of her wide, blubbery ass, slicing down, around and under and up, to the part in the fur camouflaging her lower belly. It was a horrible sight: nothing at all like the fresh, delectable pinkness, the hot hairy pocket between my own creamy thighs. Yet there was something about the repulsive smell, the slimy folds, the bramble-like hair, that drew me. I hugged her broad hips. Mouth wide, tongue lashing, I covered the skinny hard-on jerking like an electric wire at the sloppy gateway to her vagina.
Rhonda gurgled into my bush. As if it were a prick, she fucked her long fiery clit into my face. My own tender bud leaped in unison with her tongue. Her cuntjuice poured into my mouth. I gagged. But I gulped the icky stuff down, drank the stink ... sucking ... sucking. I was beyond caring about anything except the thrill gathering at the pit of my belly.
"What the fuck-?"
The deep familiar masculine voice fell like a hammerblow on my ears. It was Brent. He had come silently into the room, and now stood, a dark frown marring his handsome face, beside the bed. I was devastated. My body went limp-atremble and burning with shame.
"I warned you about this last time, with Midge." Brent's voice was cold. Brutally, by the hair, he dragged the maid from my body, to the foot of the bed. But his gaze never left my gaped open thighs, my pussy. With one knee, he pinned Rhonda to the mattress, and brought his hand down hard on her fat, jiggling buttocks. The maid squalled. The slaps grew harder-echoing through the room-making me wince, as if it were me, my ass, receiving the biting blows.
"No mooooooore!" pleaded Rhonda. "Oh, Mr. Brent! Oh no, pleaseeee!!"
Brent merely laughed. Gaze still riveted to my pulsing pink slit, he held the thrashing maid down and whipped the belt from his waist. "You've been naughty," he told the terrified woman. "Poaching! I told you what would happen if I ever again caught you nibbling my livestock. Now-" Doubling the belt, he brought it down across the tense mounds of flesh trapped beneath his leg.
Rhonda screamed. Bug-eyed, I watched the leather strike again and again-each bite raising a bright red welt on the maid's backside. I was petrified: unable to tear my eyes away from the spectacle. Brent's words reverberated inside my head. Livestock! Poaching! It was as if I'd become a bit player in an X-rated movie. Each lash of the belt tore a strangled cry from the maid's throat, and shot tongues of fire through my loins. And Brent! Astonished I watched the mighty hose in his pantsleg grow stiffer with each stinging blow. Was I to be next? I wondered. My ass flesh tightened. I could almost feel the leather licking flame across my cheeks. Escape! I thought. Get away!
I commanded my legs into motion, leaped from the bed, but had gone only a few feet when strong hands grabbed me from behind. "Let me goooooo!"
"Bitch! Shuddup 'n' get back on the fucking bed!" Brent threw me. I landed in a huddle beside Rhonda. "A little discipline," he barked, towering over me. "That's what you need. Both of you!"
The belt lashed out. The anticipated fire seared my bottom. I opened my mouth, to yell, but nothing more than a strangled sob came out. The hot leather whipped from me, to Rhonda, back to me. Tears sprang into my eyes. But my cunthole, my tiny love tunnel, as if the beating was merely an appetizer for what would follow, poured juice down the inside of my thighs, onto the bedding.
Finally, my buttocks raw, me hugging the bed-like a mole: a piteous animal whining and trying to burrow into the, mattress-Brent dropped the belt. "Now let's put those hot, rosy cheeks to some use," he panted.
Again I felt rough hands grip my waist. He was going to fuck out my asshole, I knew. I could see him, his reflection, in the large dresser mirror opposite where I lay. Dizzy, giddy with pain and the memory of his big, lovely rod, I watched him unzip his fly-moaned and bit down on my lip as the stiff demon appeared. "Oh God!" I gasped. "Oh God, Brent, don't! I-I'm all sore."
"You'll be sorer when I get this in you," he laughed and moved anxious fingers down the crack of my ass. "Christ! Your fucking cheeks're red hot. Like silk! Flaming fucking soft silk V hot hairy hole!"
Rhonda, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes, sat up. Her balloon tits rose and fell like a bellows. "Let me help," she said. "Please, Mr. Brent. Let Rhondie hold it in her hand while you-let me put it in for you."
Brent paused, as if considering the maid's suggestion. My heart raced. I watched them in the mirror-saw Brent grin and nod, and stand, and shuck his pants and shorts and shirt while Rhonda held me, spread-eagled on my belly, in the center of the huge canopy bed.
"Oh! I love to watch people fuck." Rhonda moved her hand up the inside of my thighs, to my cunthole. "The last one, Midge-I used to watch her and the chauffeur screw most every night. That big, black cock! Urn!" Her stubby stinkfinger shot deep inside me. "There's something special about black and white. The contrast. I used to love to see that ebony joystick grind up that white bitch's sweet twat!"
"Never mind that shit," growled Brent. "There ain't a black cock in the world as big as this one."
"Oh my. Oh my-oh-my-oh-my!" Rhonda made a grab for his rigid meat.
Brent slapped her hand away. "Never mind that shit, either. Hold her shoulders. Carol doesn't much like a dick in her ass. We have to persuade her."
I sobbed something incoherent-recalling the pain, the torture the first time he shoved it up me back there. Legs wide and tense, I took two fistfuls of bedding; waited. I watched Rhonda-her big stinking cunt dripping all over the place-kneel at my head. Her hands came down firm on my shoulders. I felt the mattress shift; felt Brent's fingers spreading the halves of my ass as he eased into position. My belly turned over. I moaned and lifted my cheeks onto his stiffness. He was wrong-so wrong! The interrupted bout with the maid, the whipping, and most of all the memory of the first time, had me drunk with desire. I wanted him. Oh, how I wanted to feel that lovely hard prick forcing its way up my asshole.
Nor did I have long to wait. No sooner had the thought expressed itself in my mind than I felt him ... setting the torpedo-shaped head in place. "Jesus!" he grunted. "The fuckin' thing's even tighter than last time."
"But she seems willing enough," observed Rhonda.
"N-no!" I cried-not because I wasn't willing but because Brent had pulled back, preparing to drive, and I simply couldn't wait another second. I lifted as high as I could ... forcing my butt, my pinched shitter, onto the purple-red glans of his cock.
No! I thought. The tip of Brent's cock was red and orange! It was Lonny's big dick that possessed the purple-red glans. It was difficult to remember. There had been so many lovely swipes up my belly lately.
"Ahhh!" Brent's weight came down on me. The knob of his rod pushed up my rectum.
"Ooooooooooh B-B-Brent!" I worked my belly, my sphincters, drawing him deep.
"Christ almighty!" gasped Brent.
"Hummm! Aw-all of it," I told him. "Stick it in me. Up! ALL-OF-IT!"
"The dear loves it," said Rhonda. "Oh my! Oh, how I wish it was me. How I wish I had a cock and-" Abruptly she sat: meaty thighs spread open, at either side of my head, sloppy wet gash within licking distance of my mouth. "Finish eating me, love. Suck Rhondie's hot pussy."
The dick in my ass had begun to shaft mightily in and out, Brent grunting and mashing my cunt into the wrinkled bedding. I sobbed into the maid's scraggly black bush. The stink filled my nostrils. With two fingers on each hand, I opened her cuntlips and stared into the purple-pink folds of her enormous vagina. My tongue lashed out to caress the thin, slimy hard-on standing away from her gash.
"Oh dear! Oh, my dear, darling, Carol." Taking hold of my head, cupping my face in the palms of her pudgy hands, Rhonda held my mouth to her sex. She began to gyrate-rubbing the thing, the wiry hair, against my darting tongue.
"Go baby! GO!" groaned Brent.
I didn't have to be told. His driving cock had urged my hips into motion. I fucked my ass up at him. I sucked. I pushed down with my pussy ... screwing the bed. I rubbed my tits on the sheet ... savoring the heat, the friction against my taut nipples.
"Ummm! Oh! Oh, n-none of the o-others were this good," sighed the maid, fucking her clit into my face. "Midge-she ah! Ohah! She was skittish! She ummmmmmm! She had a cute way of nibbling though. Nibble-nibble! Like ahhh! Er-rrrummmmmmm! A shy little mouse, she was."
A shy mouse! How darling! I thought, fascinated. I had never tried actually nibbling a clit-though I knew the effect teeth had on a stiff cock. I studied the long pink appendage. It did, indeed, resemble a prick. Tentatively-envisioning a mouse gnawing a piece of cheese-I chewed the round tip.
"Arrrrrrrrrrr!" Rhonda's twat spewed thick juice over my chin. She began to bounce so furiously the bed shook.
I continued to nip and nibble. My neck ached from the awkward position. But in my belly, my loins, my tight asshole and dripping vulva, there was a stronger, more demanding ache. It was the pain of orgasm. The exquisite pre-tingles I was by now used to. The tiny electric-like thrills which would soon engulf me, I knew. I fucked faster ... churning my buttocks ... taunting Brent's swipe ... anxious for the hot gism that would lift and send my pleasure bud soaring over the brink.
"Man! Looks like she knows how to suck pretty fucking good, too," said Brent.
"Heavenly!" replied Rhonda.
"That good, huh?"
"Arrr! Um! B-bbetter!"
For a moment, cock motionless, Brent studied my noisy cuntlapping technique. "Yeah! But what she needs is a real hunk of meat in her face!"
Suddenly the dick up my chute was gone. I moaned, wanting something, anything, to fill the emptiness, to make me come. I looked pleadingly back over my shoulder. "Wha-?"
An evil grin crossed Brent's flushed face. "Shift it!" he barked at the maid. "Get your fat ass out of the way. What this pretty little bitch needs now is this!" He shook his long, shit-smeared rod.
"Let me," offered Rhonda, reaching for him. "Please. I-I've always wanted to."
Brent scowled. "Fuck off!"
I watched him push the maid roughly aside. He sat in her place: muscular thighs at either side of my head, and big veiny prick-bigger, more awesome than ever before, it seemed-bobbing toward my moist lips. I smelled my own shit: saw the dark brown slime, the gook from high in my rectum, clinging to his shaft.
The beast! I thought. The horrid, inhuman brute! Did he actually expect me to suck him-to eat my own waste?
"That's it, baby," said Brent, thrusting his dick in as I opened my mouth to protest. "Yeah! Take it! Let's see if you're as good a cocksucker as, ahhh! As you are with a clit!"
"G-nooo!" I gurgled, gagging from the bitter taste of my own excrement.
"Suck it!" Brent roared, forcing his throbbing rod deep. "If you can stand eating that pig's scruff-" he pointed at Rhonda, who now lay between my spread legs licking the hole he had vacated, "-you'll eat a dead rat!"
"OHHHHHHHHHH!" I wailed, stunned by the horrible thought. But now, as if telling me shit wasn't so bad, might even be tasty, Rhonda was spreading the halves of my ass and flicking her livery tongue into my anus. "Oh God!" I gasped, hips bucking out of control.
Brent laughed. Taking hold of my head, as the maid had done moments before, he fucked the last inches of stiff dick into my mouth. My eyes bulged. My Adam's apple worked convulsively-pumping my throat full of saliva. I could feel him, the glans, throbbing at my tonsils. My spit washed the goo from his cock. I gulped it down. Now there was a different taste: the good, clean, exciting flavor of manmeat. I rubbed my nose in the forest of coarse pubic hair at the base of his tool. I hefted his balls. My middle finger found the pinched crack of his ass. I dug in-making him grunt, making the rod in my face leap when I found and fingered his rectum.
"Kee-rist!" hissed Brent. "The-ahhhhhhh! Fucking cunt is crazy for assholes!"
"Hummmmmmmmm!" Unable to help myself, revulsion became desire, I drew long and hard on his cock, and forced my finger up, to the last knuckle.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Brent began to fuck himself furiously in and out of my face.
Suddenly Rhonda was gone from between my legs. I bellowed. Were they trying to drive me stark raving mad? I wondered. The in-again-out-again-up-again-down-again routine had me frantic. Wanting to strangle the blowsy old bitch, I watched from the corner of one eye as she moved to the dresser sporting twin ornamental candelabra. I blinked as she removed what appeared to be at least eighteen inches of candle from a polished silver arm. Bug-eyed, momentarily neglecting the thing in my mouth, I watched her turn-an impish leer on her round, doughy face-and follow her jiggling football-tits back to the bed.
"Never mind what she's up to," said Brent. "Concentrate on sucking. I-ahhh! I, you! I, oh! Jesus! Your fucking finger is playing hell with m-my prostate. Motherfucker! I-ohhhhhhh! I'll be popping in arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! In a m-m-m-motherfucking minute!"
Greedily, noisily, I sucked. But I couldn't help being fascinated by what the maid was doing. In the mirror, I watched her reflection grimace as she shoved the fat end of the candle up her cunthole. Then, the tapering shaft protruding like a cock from her bush, the wick bobbing like a French tickler, she positioned herself between my legs once more.
"Jesus good fucking Mother Mary of Kee-rist!" hollered Brent because I was biting ... biting hard because the French tickler end of the candle was tickling its way past my sphincters ... the maid fucking the smooth cold wax up my asshole, as if it were a dildo.
"G-g-g-g-nooooooooooo!" I cried.
"Shush up!" scolded Rhonda. "I don't have a dick. But this'll do just as well." She breathed hot on the back of my neck. Holding her thighs closed, thereby locking the ersatz rod in her twat, she humped, humped, humped until what wasn't in her was in me.
"Ohahhhhhhhhh!" I thrashed about like a snake on hot pavement. The friction of penetration had set me in orbit. Orgasm after delicious orgasm raced through my gash. I fucked my furry little mound into the bedding, moved my head rapidly up and down the shaft in my face, and worked my inner muscles on the candletip deep in my rectum.
"Suck it, baby! Suck! Suck! Suuuuuuuuck!" Brent trapped my head. Forcing me down the length of his swollen prick, bruising my face with his rough cockhair, he began to spurt cum into my throat. His legs went tense. His asshole tightened on my finger. The sacs in my hand leaped. Gob after gob shot into me-endless, it seemed. The hot, salty cream filled my mouth: seeped out and down my chin, my neck.
"Oh dear! Oh, my dear, dear darling girl!" Rhonda; too, it seemed, was coming. With the wax dart stuck firmly up my tight chute, she loosened her hold, retreated and fucked herself onto the end protruding from between my soft quivering cheeks. Then, locking her thighs and inner cunt muscles once more, she pulled back and dragged the long thing from my rear. Again she shoved the wax home, loosened and repeated the clever procedure: using the candle as a two-headed rod, the tickler end performing its magic on me, and me in turn wiggling the opposite end back and into the sloppy wet gash dripping sticky, smelly cuntjuice over my bottom.
Brent, anxious to get his hands on my hard-nippled breasts, made the mistake of releasing my head. I raised up to accommodate him just as the maid was driving the now hot wax up my asshole. I gasped. My body jerked spasmodically. The lovely thing in my face popped free.
"Sonofabitch!" barked Brent.
"Oh-!" I wanted it back. In me! Blasting off cum in my mouth! I tried to recapture the glistening, jerking wonder. But my lips merely brushed the fat glans-triggering another spurt that landed in my eye and crept slowly down. My tongue shot out to lap up the goo before it escaped. I gobbled it down: began to lick the fiery bulb where it joined the long, throbbing shaft.
"Jesus! Keep, ah! AHHHHHHHHHHH! K-keep on licking the fucking thing, baby. Lick!" Squeezing my tits, Brent raised his knees and shot another gob at me. It landed in my hair ... trapped ... oozing mournfully into the white-blonde strands ... lost forever.
Although the licking satisfied Brent, made him wild, it merely made me hot for the thing that had escaped my mouth. I slipped my finger from his asshole. I wrapped both hands about the base of his rod-awed anew by its size. More than half the throbbing length stuck up above my closed fingers. Greedily I recaptured the knob, and sucked.
Brent's feet did a frantic love dance on the mattress at either side of my head. A new thrill raced through me: the pleasure of being able to cause such delight in a man almost twice my size. I felt suddenly powerful-in command of the play for the first time. It had never been so good! Not even with Steve!
I felt Rhonda's weight fall upon me. Wheezing breath through her teeth, she lay still. "Darling!" she whispered, raining wet kisses over the back of my neck, my shoulders.
I moaned. I didn't care that the maid had stopped fucking the candle into me. I could feel it still: fat and hard, high in my belly. And each time Rhonda drew breath, the little French tickler wick jerked ever so slightly and sent another minute sensation up my spine.
Drawing deep on Brent's magnificent cock, I cupped and kneaded his big hairy balls in one hand, and again dug high in his asshole-fingers seeking the trigger, his prostate-with the other. It didn't take long. He was grunting and straining, humping and gasping and pissing more semen even before the maid had caught her breath.
The candle began to move again ... slowly ... provocatively. I welcomed the steady fuck motion. Already my clit was vibrating toward another orgasm. I thought about Lonny-closed my eyes and envisioned the tall, grinning brute, and thought about how wonderful it would be to have both brothers in the same bed, both fucking cum into me.
"God! Oh Goddamn!" The wanton idea was at once frightening and exciting. And it was so unlike me! Little more than a week before, I thought I was a normal, average girl, with a healthy enough appetite for sex-to be sure. But nothing like this! Nothing so ... so....
I didn't know what all! I knew only that the pulsing, twelve-inch dick in my face, and the rigid, eighteen-inch candle up my tight asshole, left another burning emptiness: a desire raging like forest fires in the tiny pink gash between my gaped open thighs.
"Baby, you're good," said Brent in a voice thick with unspent passion. "The greatest! The best fucking, um! Oh baby! Baby! Baby! Ba-beee! The sweetest little asshole 'n' now the best cocksucker too-oooooooooooo!"
"She's a dear," cooed Rhonda. "An absolutely precious, hot darling."
"Then fuck meee!" I stopped thinking. I set my hips in motion, keeping time with the pistoning candle; blew and sucked on Brent's beautiful swipe, and contented myself with the friction of fucking my cunt, my swollen, dripping, hungry white-blonde wedge, into the puddle of juice it had spewed on the bedding.