Chapter 4
"Who was that?" she asked, once Jerry had hung up the phone, having heard him refer to a "her" several times during the course of the conversation.
"Heinrich."
"Did he have anything to say?"
"Of course," he said, picking up his newspaper and smiling to himself.
"What?" she asked, becoming impatient.
"He wanted to invite us on a picnic," he teased.
"Is that all?"
"What did you expect him to say?" he asked.
"Well, what do you think?" she said, catching on that she was being teased.
"He said your screen test was so good," Jerry said, speaking quietly, "that he's decided to make a movie out of it and show it in the theaters."
"Out of that!?" she cried, perplexed, her mouth dropping open.
"Why, yes...."
"But how can he? I didn't know they'd let anyone make a movie out of that," she cried. "That?"
"Yes!" she cried. "They don't let them show things like that!"
"Oh, that," Jerry said. "Don't worry about it."
"What are they going to do with it?" she wailed.
"Calm down," he said. "Calm down. There's nothing to worry about. First, Heinrich's a good film editor."
"Film editor?"
"Yes, a film editor edits film, obviously. He takes his little pair of scissors and cuts out any part of it that he doesn't like. Then he tapes the film back together so that you never know it's missing. It happens to every movie ever made."
"Oh," she said, crinkling her brow as she thought about what he was going to leave in the movie, wondering what was left to see after that had been cut out of it.
As if reading her mind, Jerry said, "He thinks you have a beautiful and immensely expressive face."
"Oh," she said, oddly pleased. "That's not all he likes," Jerry added, half under his breath. "What?"
"I was going to say ... Second, he's going to make it into an art film. He thinks it'll make a good one."
"What kind of film?"
"Art films, underground cinema, avant-garde, and even hard-core-they're all the same. I explained to you about it, how it's different from Hollywood."
"Oh," she said, trying to remember just what he'd said.
"Anyway, in art films you have more freedom than you do with Hollywood flicks. That's the big difference."
"Freedom how?"
"Freedom to make the kind of film you want without a lot of bourgeois restraints. Today you have the freedom to do just about anything you want as long as you do it tastefully. And that's where you come in-you help make it tasteful."
"Oh," she said, pleased. "How do I do that?"
"By being so damned beautiful," he said.
She blushed. She knew he was just teasing her, but she was pleased anyway.
"Also, doing it this way, you have freedom from the Hollywood system. It makes everything a lot easier-for instance, if you'd taken your first screen test in Hollywood, you'd probably have had fifteen or twenty people watching you. If you don't think that would have made you nervous ... "
Cassie nodded her head and shuddered inwardly at the thought ... three people watching her had been just about all she could handle. Any more than that and ... well, she saw that she would have to have a lot more experience actually acting before she could handle that many!
"Anyway, I didn't tell you the best part," he said.
"What's that?" she said, pleased she was going to have an even better surprise.
"He's going to make another ... he's going to make a movie tomorrow, and he wants you to star in it."
Cassie beamed. Her lips parted and she licked them. Last week, her screen test-tomorrow, she'd be a star! After a moment, she asked, hesitantly, as if afraid of what the answer was going to be without quite knowing why she was afraid, "Wh-what's the movie going to be about?"
"It's a Western," he said.
She was immensely relieved. Why, she had seen lots and lots of cowboy movies. She'd know just what to do. "Shouldn't I start memorizing my part?"
Jerry frowned and thought, "No, I don't think so. I mean, you'll have lines, sure, But not so many that you can't memorize them right before each scene."
Oh boy! Real lines and real scenes! Cassie's spirit soared.
Seeing from her glazed look that she was in flight, Jerry stood up and ambled into the bathroom, leaving her alone on the couch, all alone with her make-believe as she began to rock gently back and forth.
After a few minutes, she started, then looked around herself as she focused her eyes and realized that Jerry was gone. "Jerry! Jerry!" she called.
"Just a minute," he called back. "I'm in the John."
But she couldn't wait just a minute. She had to know right now! She jumped up and ran to the bathroom door, yelling through the door because she wanted to know right now: "Do a good guy and a bad guy get into a showdown gunfight over me?" she cried, wanting to know just exactly what sort of heroine she was going to be.
"Not exactly," Jerry yelled. "Just a minute, will ya?"
Cassie had to wait for a seemingly endless minute-it was possibly several minutes by the clock-before she heard the toilet flush and the tap water run, and Jerry emerged.
"No," he said. "I don't think there are any gunfights. All I know is how it begins-from there they'll probably play it by ear, to a certain extent. Freedom. Art." He paused, thinking, then added, "I think this is the situation when the movie begins, and it's all Heinie had time to tell me: You've been traveling across the plains with your family in a wagon, and you've become separated from the rest of a wagon train, or something like that. Anyway, you're out there all alone when the Indians attack and kill all your family except you, and they don't kill you because one of the braves wants you for his woman, his squaw. Anyway, the hero comes along and rescues you. It's a small band of Indians, I guess, but he surprises them ... or something ... and chases them off just as your brave is about to become violent with you because you won't cooperate or something like that. Anyway, the hero comes along, and he chases the Indians off-I guess he fires a few shots and takes them by surprise or something. But he rescues you, and that's the important thing. That's how the movie begins. Then I guess you'll have lovers' quarrels as you cross the plains. You get the picture."
Cassie got the picture, and it suited her just fine: A Frontier Romance Full of Hardship and Wild Peril.
Shortly after noon the next day someone in the background yelled, "Take one," and the film began rolling. Cassie stood strapped between two wagon wheels on an old covered wagon, her arms and legs tied in four different directions, lashed to different points on the opposing wagon wheels. Eight feet away from her, a wild Indian with paint on his nose rummaged through a trunk, pulling out some glass beads which he held up to admire. A bald old man with catsup on his head lay ten feet or so in the opposite direction, clutching a feathered arrow in his armpit, pretending to be dead. The solitary Indian had a catsup-doused toupee tied to a rope belt which just barely held up his only garment, a loincloth.
They were on location south of San Francisco.
The entire crew was hidden in some sand dunes not far from the ocean; they had picked sand dunes because they resembled the prairie, and the ocean was not in view.
Cassie concentrated, trying to remember her lines. They were to be spoken when she got her cues. Her first line was: "No, no! You brutal savage!" and then she was to fall into a dead faint.
Her second line was: "Oh, you've saved me! How can I ever repay you?"
Her third line was: "No, not that!"
Her fourth line was: "No!"
Her fifth line was "No!"
Her sixth line was "No!"
Her seventh line was: "Yes, anything!"
What she had to remember, in short, was the two longer speeches; and then when "a vile request" (her cue) was made of her, she had to remember to say "No!" to it four times before saying "Yes." She wanted to succeed; she prayed she didn't muff her lines.
After putting the beads around his neck, the Indian walked over to Cassie and yanked on her hair, staring evilly into her eyes for a moment before placing his hands at the neck of her dress, gripping the fabric.
This was her cue. She cried, "No! No! You brutal savage!" saying the lines perfectly; and then, as per instructions, she fell into a dead faint. She had careful instructions to stay in her dead faint until she had been rescued.
She dropped her head to the side and shut her eyes, letting her mouth fall open.
With one great yank and the consequent rending of fabric, the savage pulled the front of her dress away, baring her to the waist. This wasn't one of her cues; it took all of the self-discipline and will to succeed Cassie could muster to stay in her dead faint as the savage manipulated her breasts, tearing at them and squeezing them this way and that as her nipples stiffened and tingled from the irritation. Moments later he lowered his face to rub her ail-too pointed sensitized nipples on his eyelids; he did it so softly that they began to tingle for an entirely different reason than irritation. The savage then sucked on each tender breast with special vigor, almost chewing on them and trailing saliva from one to the other and back again. Cassie to her horror felt her pussy lubricating itself from all this suckling, and she squirmed in discomfort, wishing that her hero would hurry along so she could awake from her dead faint. (It had been explained to her that back in those days no Christian woman would dare be conscious in the eyes of God when a savage threatened her virtue; she hadn't quite understood, but with the mention of God she knew it was a serious picture.) Without further ado, the savage clawed at her petticoats, pulling them up about her waist to clutch the globes of her ass as he grunted frightfully and thrust himself against her. He jerked his loincloth aside. Within seconds the grunting savage's grimly erect cock was battering at the hollows between her thighs, poking everywhere in blind fury before hitting a spot of wetness and wedging in. With a piercing hyena yell he straightened his knees, driving his ungodly gristly cock straight into her unready cunt with the one fearful plunge. A low shriek from deep in her throat escaped the girl's lips, as she really did black out for a moment, coming to consciousness only with the rattling of her own teeth as the man fucked into her without letup. Her unwilling cunt released more of its creamy liquid, bedewing the savage cock and churning into foam.
Cassie, frightened of the totally animal fire generating from her cunt and warming her bones, cheated by peeking out of one eye to see if her hero was coming. She saw no one, not even the cameraman, for which she was thankful. She had no way of knowing that the camera caught the glisten of every drop of sweet liquid seeping from her ravaged cunt to become a creamy froth about the base of the savage's thick, barbarian cock; that the camera caught her thigh muscles which began to flex without volition; that from its vantage point beneath the wagon right behind her the camera captured the involuntary grinding movement of her pelvis as she began to eagerly thrust it against the naked howling savage. Soon the movement of her cunt was as rapid and reflexive as that of his cock. She was being fucked into insensibility, and so powerful were the overwhelming sensations that she lost all thought of the movie-making process and reacted "naturally." Her head hanging to one side now more from nervous exhaustion than discipline, Cassie's chest heaved as she felt the savage clutch her posterior globes with such vigor that it seemed her ass was on the verge of being ripped apart at the seams. Her tits flattened like eiderdown pillows as the Indian beat his own hard chest against the soft cushions of her breasts. He ripped at her helplessly spread ass cheeks as he bent his knees under her to grind his cock in tight circular motions, digging the burning twitching thing as far into her as it would go. Then she felt it growing inside of her, seeming to fill her overstretched cavity even more. The Indian gave one bloodcurdling yell as he began to shoot his hot cum as deeply as possible into her; there it touched a nerve and ignited a series of her own spasms, which shook her entire body as she came, nerves popping like a string of firecrackers. It wasn't in the script, but Cassie found her lust constricted throat screaming, "I'm cumming! Oh, God, I'm cumming."
Contemptuously, the savage pulled his prick out, wiped it off on her petticoats, stuffed it back into his loincloth, hopped on his pony and rode away. Cassie was left shuddering, faint, empty, and all but naked, her dress torn to shreds and bunched about her waist. The camera was focused on her cunt-lips, from which sperm and her own fluid had begun to drip, falling drop by drop into the sand. She had taken a dozen deep breaths and had almost regained her breath when her ears picked up the sound of hoofbeats. The cameraman crawled out from beneath the wagon to photograph the arrival across the sand dune of the girl's savior, a burly hunk of a man spurring a swayback nag which cantered awkwardly around the wagon. The muscular cowboy dismounted in front of the girl. He ambled over to her, patted her cheek, pulled up an eyelid to gaze into an ostensibly vacant eyeball, rolled both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, then fell to his knees, poking his head forward between her widespread thighs to peer closely at her dripping cunt. He tongued her clitoris, moving his head from side to side and nuzzling her wispy muff, then rocked back on his heels, but not before Cassie had begun to squirm, wishing he'd hurry up and untie her so she could come out of her faint and begin the romance.
Casually, he drew a knife from its sheath and cut her arms free, catching the weakened girl by her breasts as she fell forward, her feet still fastened. One burly arm across her chest, he held her up as he stooped to cut the rope binding her left ankle, then let her body slip to the ground. This was Cassie's cue: her eyelids fluttered open as she looked into his face to say, "Oh, you've saved me! How can I ever repay you?"
The cowboy pursed his lips and thought for a minute, then unbuttoned his pants, saying, "You've given me a whale of a hard-on; I suppose the first thing you can do is suck my cock."
Cassie looked at his cock and gulped. It was the biggest, thickest cock she had ever seen, with thick pulsating blue veins, mottled skin, and a glans so fleshy it looked sore and swollen. She didn't know if she could even get it into her mouth. She had no trouble remembering her next line and said it with genuine feeling: "No, not that!"
"We'll see about that," the cowboy sneered.
Leaving her prone on the ground, he sauntered over to a cactus growing not far from the foot of the wagon. He broke a long sharp thorn from the plant and walked back. Cassie frowned, with no idea what was coming but aware she had to say "No!" three more times.
Kneeling, he grasped her arm just above the elbow and, in spite of the girl's attempt to hold it to herself, he lifted it as easily as a toothpick. He pressed the thorn to her flesh and slowly drew it over her skin, leaving a thin three-inch red line across the inside of her armpit; he then moved his attention to the side of her breast where he made a similar scratch while Cassie bit her tongue in agony.
"Will you suck it now?" he asked.
"No!" she cried, conscious that she had two mandatory refusals left her.
Pursing his lips, the cowboy took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and, with a frown, placed the point of the thorn against the edge of the red ring of her areola. He inserted it ever so slightly, just enough to squeeze out a drop of blood, which he smeared onto his thumb and held up before her frightened eyes. "What do you say now?"
"No!" she cried, glad that she only had to say "No" once more, but wishing she could say "Yes" right now.
He shrugged, picked up her other breast and, as the girl threw her head back and gasped into the lens of the camera, he slowly shoved the thorn directly into the center of the point of her nipple, just far enough so that when he let go of her breast, the thorn stood there, embedded. "Well?" he asked.
Cassie looked down at the thorn and blanched, looking for a moment as if she would vomit, but with fierce grit and determination and will to succeed and be a movie star, she blurted, "No!" She was very thankful that this was the last time she would have to refuse him.
But as if he hadn't read the script, the cowboy seemed to get mad, saying, "You're a stubborn lass, aren't you? You'll soon know better than to refuse Big John."
Cassie shuddered, her eyes pleading with him to remember that now she could say "Yes," but he gripped her legs and pulled her toward the wheel her right ankle was still bound to. Then he bent her backwards over the wheel. Now her legs were spread even farther apart, and she found herself helplessly spread-eagled over the wagon wheel. Her cunt winked at the camera, and the insides of her thighs glistened from the savage's cum. Big John inspected her pussy, his mean eyes running over her with malevolent lust. As if she was not widespread enough to accommodate everyone's curiosity, he twisted her ankle and pushed it out about a foot and a half. The camera followed, seeing all-seeing her pouting mound rising like a golden grassy knoll out of the white quarry of her legs, seeing her succulent buttocks flattened against the wheel. Then the camera moved in for a close-up to view the moist pink outer lips of her pussy pulled taut and her shell-like pearl-pink inner folds glistening with moisture. Another twist on her leg and the cunt parted to reveal the walls of her vagina, its ridges yet shinier with slickness. The tip of her clitoris, forced from its protection of folds, stood out nakedly, defenseless.
Stretched to the point of breaking, Cassie feared her hip sockets would pop. She began weeping, but then took a deep breath-her childlike eyes wide in anticipated agony-as Big John reached for his thorn. Her lips silently formed the phrase, "No-please, oh, no!" She would die before she got to say her next line.
The big cowboy, who looked more like a blacksmith or weightlifter, had no intention of maiming or hurting the girl. An expert, he did not even draw blood as he traced the thorn over her most sensitive parts, applying its point only enough to remind her that it had a point, pricking the outermost layer of skin. That was enough for the desired theatrical effect. The camera recorded her pink anus contracting in fear as her cunt was tickled. Cassie began to wail when Big John stroked her sensitive vaginal lips with the spike. The whirling camera recorded her vagina emitting its lacteal fluid, and her belly contracting spasmodically as her fear-taut breasts wobbled.
Big John grinned wickedly, then nudged the nub of her clitoris up with the tip of his forefinger and merely laid the wicked implement across it before giving the quivering girl her next cue: "You ready to show a man proper respect?"
"Yes, anything!" she cried.
She showed proper respect, too. The cocks of fifty thousand movie-goers would, in the near future, twitch as Big John pulled her to her knees and then began tugging at the remnants of her dress. Obediently, Cassie lifted her arms high so he could draw it over her head. She kneeled there, naked, helpless and fearfully subservient, watching as the hulk of a man removed his buckskin trousers. Then he grabbed her lifeless arms and put her hands on his hairy buttocks, forcing Cassie's head back. "All right, gal, open your mouth and start sucking my cock." The quivering girl looked down over her nose at the giant bulbous prick and its monstrous glans, already oozing a viscous liquid from its opening. Fearfully, she moved her tender pink oral cavity forward onto it, closing her eyes as its fleshy head slid past her uvula and compressed the back of her tongue. The cock lodged in the narrowness of her throat as its width stretched her jaws to the breaking point. Her lips compulsively clamped around it in a soft moist ring. Her mouth felt as if she had a large hot cucumber stuck in it. She moaned and her eyelids fluttered as the big man braced himself against the wagon. Her mouth was so full she could hardly think, but the heat emanating from the frightful weapon sent fire into her brain, lighting up her body's central nervous system. She began to feel desire again. Big John's lips parted in a grin of lust as Cassie began to move her tongue from side to side across the tender underside of his thrusting cock. Her impaled head moved in slow circles and her young girl's body moved sinuously against his sturdy muscular legs. He reached a hand down to rock her head gently back and forth on his tightly clamped cock. Loud slurping noises drowned out the sound of insects humming in the afternoon. Once, when Big John shoved forward viciously, Cassie choked and gagged, and she was sure he was trying to punch her tonsils down the back of her throat. Then, as Big John began growling like a wildcat, Cassie reached up and stroked the skin on either side of his hairy ass cleft with her fingertips. Suddenly, with one loud moan, he thrust his cock deep into the soft confines of her hot, wet mouth, and the cum came boiling out of his huge testicles. Her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel with mumps, and her throat convulsed in an attempt to swallow it all. She really didn't want to let any escape, but there was simply too much of its spurting thickness-it shot in jets from each corner of her mouth, dribbling across her chin to drip-drop-drip on her uncovered, quivering breasts.
The camera revealed her wanton expression; she seemed fired up by his mammoth spending. As his cock deflated, Cassie now had the latitude to move her head and lips and tongue with greater ease; she began to suck at his dwindling prick with frenzied vigor, as if that might satisfy the fire burning in her own loins.
But Big John wouldn't let her keep that up very long. He frowned, held the overeager girl's head steady, and gave his hips a yank backwards. She continued to suck with such vigor that his prick stretched a few inches before it began to slide out. When its head passed between her lips, she opened her mouth and wagged her tongue after it, trying to give it one last grateful lick.
Then, as the girl rocked disconsolately back to sit on her heels, she spread her knees slightly and-face flushed with a thin thread of semen connecting her parted lips-her hand shot between her legs. Her torso began to sway as her finger wormed its eager way up and down that fiery valley of desire.
The big man found his knife, and in one swipe of the blade cut the girl's leg free from the wheel. In one smooth motion, he picked Cassie up and spun her over. For a moment, the girl's legs were widespread as her knees dangled against his shoulders-but that flash of time was all he needed to pull her crotch up to his nose and bury his thick bristling tongue in her twitching brown little anus. "Aggghh," Cassie screamed in sudden delight. The camera stayed on his tongue as he worked it in and out of the pulsating opening.
Cassie's body went slack in wanton weakness, but as he continued to poke the breadth of his tongue into her asshole, her spine whipped, her buttocks clenched, and she locked her thighs around his neck. The fire had grown intolerable in her loins; she wanted to be fucked-to be released from this exquisite ecstasy. She began to shriekand it wasn't in the script-"Fuck me! Fuck me, somebody!"
She wasn't too heavy for the big man. With his size, he could have held her for half an hour without flagging, but he sagged in mock helplessness back against the wagon. To the camera, it looked as if Cassie were strangling him with her legs. Her buttocks bounced against his whiskery face.
She writhed and continued to moan incoherently as she dangled head down from his shoulders. Unable to move and about to burst, Cassie cruelly grasped his still-limpprick and stuffed it into her mouth. Once again she began to suck, all the while grinding her sensitive breasts into his stomach. Big John raised his mouth from her clasping asshole to take a deep breath. A veteran of many such movies, he thought with amazement, My God, I've never seen such a clean pink hairless little asshole-it even smells clean. Then-although the script didn't call for it-he ran his tongue all along her wide crack from her anus beyond her clitoris and back. Cassie stopped sucking and shrieked with joy, then, feeling empty, sought to return his cock to her lips. It was then Big John brought his hand up and, with a smooth steady force, shoved his middle finger all the way into the struggling girl's rectum.
"Agghhhh," she screamed. Nothing yet had ever been so painful. He was trying to kill her. The swooning girl had been close to cumming, but with this surprise invasion she automatically bit Big John's prick and, as it was yanked from her mouth, she screeched. He caught her by the back of the neck and, turning his middle finger a half-turn in her throbbing rectum, lifted her upright again. He then held her like that for a moment, one hand around her neck and one hand under her crotch with his middle finger buried deep in her asshole, holding her almost at arm's length as she kicked her legs like she was peddling a bicycle.
Big John did a double-take and grinned nastily as he saw his old nag. The Western saddle had a saddle horn rising off it, thin and smooth ... with a big silver-dollar-sized knob on the end. The horn itself stuck up about six inches, and its knob looked like the head of some immense prick. He laughed aloud and carried the squirming Cassie over to the nag and lifted the girl over the saddle as easily as if she had been a rag doll stuffed with feathers. On feeling herself being hoisted onto the saddle, Cassie spread her legs. Her hand automatically shot down and brushed against the saddlehorn. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Big John as if to warn him to be careful of this protrusion ; then she moaned in dismay as she found herself being lowered directly onto it. Big John, his middle finger firmly ensconced within the girl's bowels, had no trouble centering her pussy above the horn. Then he simply let go of her neck. Cassie fell-impaling her seeping cunt on the horn. "Aagghhh!" she cried, as with a wet plop the leather phallus sank through her cuntal lips and out of sight.
"Alyeee!" she shrieked again, as the horse bucked once, and it was impossible to tell if it was a cry of pain or exaltation.
At first numbed and stunned by this second mammoth penetration, the girl didn't know what to do with herself. Then she began struggling to hop off. Left to her own devices she might have been able to free herself, but with Big John's finger searing her bowels she didn't have a chance. If she rocked back the finger was sent deep into her rectum, and if she moved forward the hard leather cock-like object burned ever deeper into the depths of her highly lubricated pussy. She squeezed her knees together, causing the tender skin on the insides of her thighs to rub against the horse's hair. Cassie whinnied and flailed with her arms, jerking spasmodically. She had no way to protect the nerve ends in her cunt, her bowels, or her thighs-all of which were tingling insanely at the brisk nonstop contact. She swayed in the air, her pelvis thrusting back and forth on the saddle horn buried deep in her snatch. She could feel the powerful sensation it was beginning to evoke. It felt as if the giant of all pricks were lodged in there. She found new sensations when she reached both hands back to grip the back edge of the saddle; her back arched. She steadied herself, then steadily-like a child riding a rocking horse-she began to undulate her pelvis to and for, searing her bowels and tortured cunt, encouraging this unnatural invasion. She suddenly began to clench first one buttock, then the other, on Big John's broad hand. Her breasts swayed back and forth and bobbled up and down, jiggling in constant motion.
by now her nipples had become stiff and red, her breasts mottled as she approached an orgasm. Her tits danced insanely in the air as her deeper belly muscles grew taut as steel cables and then began a rippling movement that spread throughout her tortured, helpless body. She was there. There! Now. RIGHT NOW!
Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a wild grimace of lust, and her teeth were bared like a wild animal's as she began shouting, "Ah!
Ahhhh! I'm cumming. I'M CUMMING!!! Aaaiiiiiieeeee! I'm cumming!" Her breath left her body in one great whoosh, and she began a climatic dance that continued and continued.
Big John watched her in absolute amazement. The bitch really is cumming, he thought. Jesus, he didn't know how she did it. He watched as the throbbing convulsions shook her entire body, and as her cunt contracted on the saddlehorn while her anus was trying to suck up his finger all the way to the wrist.
The camera, which had recorded every tremor of her delightful body, zoomed close in during the final seconds to record the maddened twitching of her clitoris against the deep brown cowhide; it remained focused on the saddlehorn-slick, glistening in the sun, the leather permanently darkened by the penetrating wetness of the girl's hot, viscous cuntal fluid.
Big John, aroused by the girl's quivering body as well as by the muscular movements of snatch and rectum, deftly lifted the girl off the saddle as her arms went weak and her body sagged. He carried her to a small hummock on a large dune which shielded the motion picture crew from an isolated highway.
There, he laid her face down in the sand. Her hips, centered across the mound, were higher than the rest of her body. Big John used his boots to spread her legs wheelbarrow fashion, then knelt down between her knees. His hands on the rich inviting full moons of her buttocks, he spread the soft halves to reveal her anus-once again puck ered in a tight inviting ring. Never relinquishing his hold on her globes, the big cowboy touched the tip of his giant aching prick to the velvety folds of her snatch and twitched it a few times. Thinking that he was going to fuck her there and knowing she would be maimed if she didn't cooperate to accommodate him, Cassie spread her legs out to their utmost. But Big John merely forced his glans between her wet pussy lips, wiggling it about a bit in her passion-dampened cuntal cavern-moistening, lubricating the mammoth drill. He waited as the camera came in closer, and then placed his cock head squarely on her puckered little anus, which shone like a brown star against the alabaster white of her inner cheeks.
He began shoving forward in an effort to force the cudgel past the constricted anal ring.
"Aaaaggghhh, you're hurt-ting meeee," Cassie yelled, knowing the line wasn't in the script, but unable to keep silent as excruciating waves of pain swept over her.
Big John lunged once more, and his slippery cock slid off to one side-leaving a shiny trail of cuntal lubricant in its passing. He shook his massive head in exasperation and then brutally grasped her shoulders with his hands to hold her steady, as he slowly arched his back to thrust his still-centered massive manhood between the hapless girl's cheeks. Now something had to give, and before her shoulders broke her anus caved inward, its ring slowly stretching to admit his glans. But he didn't stop there. He kept right on shoving it in with slow steady force, her rectum slowly giving way before it.
Cassie's breath left her in one continuous shriek of pain. Nothing-absolutely nothing had ever hurt so much-not even her father's belt. "STOP, oh, God! Please-plu-uleeeze ... STOP! You're tearing me there!" It felt as if a hot railroad tie was being hammered into her bowels.
The training grunting cowboy now paused to catch his own breath, and the girl began to writhe beneath him, trying futilely to escape. Before she could gain freedom, the big man grasped her shoulders once more and with the same slow sureness pulled himself all the way into her. In pain, Cassie wiggled in the sand like a sidewinder snake. Speared to the depths of her bowels, she felt as if she'd been set upon by a demon who wanted nothing more than to rip her asunder.
Every tremor in the girl's body registered through her tight anal canal on the big man's cock. The sensation was welcomed by him as he began to buffet her defenseless asshole. His head lolled to one side, and his tongue came out of his mouth in a lewd grin. He gripped her shoulders again and began to shove home with a vengeance. Each time his hips came back, the camera saw the stretched ring of her anal sphincter, so tight around his prick that it seemed sure no man could withstand such constriction.
It took one of the assistant cameramen to get Harvey's attention; he pointed at Big John's face. It was obvious the cowboy was about to go out of his mind in delight. Harvey turned the camera upward, knowing Big John was close.
The cowboy's prick slid along Cassie's rectal passage delightfully, its raw swollen glans absorbing, absorbing. A glazed look came into his eyes, and he began moving with a rapidity one would have thought impossible for a man of his frame.
The movement of his velvety glans on her tender passageway had begun to change from pain to a masochistic pleasure ... a pleasure that rapidly changed to joy as the St. Elmo's fire of an impending orgasm flickered through her nerve endings.
"I'm cumming," Big John grunted, then his prick began to twitch. That was signal enough for Cassie, and her own climax swept through her body with a strength that completely overwhelmed her in its intensity. She couldn't even shout out the joyous message-all she could do was mumble incoherently as consciousness left her. She fainted just as the big man began to fill her with spurt after spurt after spurt of boiling cum, shooting it far up into her bowels, then collapsing weakly onto her.
Cassie still hadn't stirred by the time the big man had roused himself, put on his trousers, mounted his nag, and ridden off into the sinking afternoon sun, whistling "Oh, you'd never hope to meet such a purty little girl...." The girl was left unconscious on the sand dune. All that could be seen of her from the wagon was the upside-down "V" of her widespread legs, and her rubied cunt in the middle, topped by the globes of her ass. Harvey, the cameraman, put away his camera.
When Cassie regained consciousness again, she discovered that her cunt was being stirred by the soft thrusting motions of someone's smooth hard cock. At the exact same moment she felt the prick nosing around in her womb, she felt also the departed cowboy's warm cum saturating her bowels; her anus felt only the welcome relief of the absence of the man's massive inhuman organ. But, in spite of all, there was a warm after-tingle down there. The prick nudging the walls of her cunt actually felt good to her. She opened her eyes to see sand within inches of her face, and beyond this the desolate dune and one solitary cactus standing guard. It didn't occur to her to look over her shoulder to see who was fucking her. It didn't even occur to her that she might be curious who was fucking her. If she'd given it a second's thought, she'd have known that it wasn't the cowboy, but all she thought about was the heat rising in her loins and the cum in her bowels. She was being gently fucked, and it felt real nice for a change.
Tingling warmly all over, Cassie spread her legs wide as they would go and dug her toes into the sand in order to hold her cunt up to be fucked. The prick began to move with greater vigor, loins slapping her buttocks and balls swinging against her pubes. She lifted herself slightly with her forearms to move her overheated cunt back and forth on the churning cock, clenching her buttocks and giving a jerk backward each time the cock tried to leave her. Her breasts trailed to and fro in the sand, their stiff sensitized tips rubbing in the grit, leaving a weird pattern on the desert floor. When her hips were clutched and the cock began to twitch, she clenched her buttocks tight and arched her back to be ridden down. She came, and it was wonderful! Her torso thrashed and breasts flopped on the sand as her central nerve was touched with his hot cum. Then her body went haywire once more as she came a second time. When it was over, she didn't care if she ever got up again. She was tired. She hurt. All over! She began sobbing disconsolately.
After a moment, Harvey pulled her to her feet. He gently flicked at her breasts and belly with his hand to knock some of the sand off, but this got rid of only the worst. She was covered with grit from her hair to her knees, and it was ground into her cunt and asshole as though someone had been using sand and cement there.
"Come on, Cassie. Jerry and Heinie are waiting for us on the beach. They should have some beer left, and we might as well go for a swim, so you can get cleaned up."
Woodenly, Cassie followed the cameraman across the dunes. She would go swimming, but she knew-instinctively-that it would take more than ocean water to get rid of the dirt deep, deep inside of her. It was then she thought of Daddy and his belt again, and with the thought came a flood of tears.