Chapter 3
"All right. Now let's see you move," Garrett said, sipping his cognac, comfortably half sitting with his legs stretched out on the wide lounge that served as both bed at night and couch in the daytime. The huge loft had been partitioned so that his apartment was quite private and separated from the rehearsal hall. The Dallas Community Little Theatre paid for the whole thing, and that way he didn't have to pay rent out of his salary. Once a thriving dance studio in the late thirties and early forties, with a stage and a huge expanse of polished floor, the loft had stood vacant and defunct for years until Garrett had discovered it and persuaded the Board to rent it.
Hilda stood uncertainly by the low coffee table. She looked even taller in the expensive beige pants suit. I'm not quite sure what you mean. Would you explain it a little?" She felt the nerves tighten in her stomach and diaphragm. She knew very well what she was prepared to do to get this part, but so far Justin Garrett had been strictly business, putting her through the paces, reading various scenes of the play.
"Just come through that door, walk across the room, and sit down in the wing chair." Justin knew exactly what she'd come for. It had been obvious, the way she'd arranged to sit next to him at the hamburger joint, fawning over him and hanging on his every word, her thigh pressed against his in the booth the kids had jammed into. He knew that she believed the old cliche about getting ahead in the theatre, casting couches and the whole bit. He even knew that she had told herself that she was doing it to get this part. He also knew it was a lie. She was a bitch in heat and would have manipulated anything or anybody to get laid. Well, he wouldn't disappoint her, but no part was ever given to anybody for a roll in the hay. The persistence of the myth, however, kept him well supplied with hot young flesh.
Justin watched her narrowly as she went out and then came awkwardly through the door and pranced affectedly across the room. She hadn't the poise of a giraffe. Her legs were too long for her torso, but she had good grapefruit boobs hung on her narrow rib cage. They bounced and jiggled, unbound by a bra, under the clinging tan knit top. He could see the areolas and nipples outlined. Sometimes these long narrow ones were hotter than the round soft ones, the nerves more sensitive and somehow stretched tighter on their long bodies. A pervading warmth glowed in his belly from the cognac. He felt his balls tighten, looking at Hilda's lolling breasts that looked even more round and full on her thinness.
Hilda sat down and crossed her legs, her arms on the arms of the chair and her head thrown back against the chair back, the way she'd seen actresses do it in the movies. Then she crossed her arms on her knees and leaned forward so her breasts were cleaved and the tops showed over the scoop neckline. She looked at Justin Garrett nervously. He was just lying there, his handsome, dramatic face inscrutable and expressionless, sipping occasionally on the cognac, as though he were not impressed. She felt like a slave on the block who had not pleased the best buyer. But then she knew all about buying things. It was her family's money that had bought her into Peabody and just about anything else she ever wanted except... well, the things she really wanted. Grace, poise, charm, men of higher than average quality, and a career in the theatre... a real career as a real star. That was a power even stronger than money.
"Justin," she said huskily, her pale cat eyes on his. She stood up slowly, "I want that part. I'll do anything to get it." Slowly she began unbuttoning the top of her pants suit. If he wasn't going to make a move, she'd have to.
"Tell me about it," he answered sardonically, his weight on his elbows, his back supported by the mass of deep pillows. He watched her as she slowly unbuttoned the knit top and slid it off. Her breasts were even better in the flesh, the same pale tannish color as the rest of her skin and hair. Great soft mounds of perfectly rounded flesh capped with pale brown areolas and nipples like large brown pennies. Her shoulders and arms were fragile and slender and looked too weak to support the great heaviness of her fleshy breasts.
"I want that part so badly... I'll do anything you want me to... to get it." Her brittle voice had lowered to almost a whisper, as though her breath supply were running out.
"Anything?" The one word hung in the air between them as palpable as a neon sign flashing its silent scream into the night. His eyes never left her narrow face that seemed to hollow and pale, and her eyes assured him the price was agreeable.
Hilda slid her fingertips inside the elasticized waistband of her knit pants and very slowly slithered them down over her narrow but sleekly curved hips and thighs, letting them drop to the floor and stepping out of them with more assurance than she'd had all evening. He wasn't unaffected now. He was even stiller, like a spider that has spotted its prey and waited the game patiently.
Confidence began to return a little now. Men were so simple once you caught on to them. Young, old, rich, poor. They all wanted to fuck. All the time. Any time. Anywhere. For a girl without many obvious physical assets, she'd had her share. At fourteen she'd started with the chauffeur and had progressed from there. She'd fucked most of the promising young men at her coming-out party at one time or another, but none of them had wanted to marry her and in truth she hadn't wanted to marry them either. She wanted the power that only an actress had -adulation of a whole audience-love pouring out of a million hearts at once. The kind of love she'd felt tonight wafting on waves of applause across the grass to the spotlighted Celia. Well, that naive little snip was not going to get this part. Tryouts had only been announced in tonight's paper, so Hilda knew that no one was going to get the jump on her. Tomorrow night was the announced time.
"I move better without... impediments," she whispered, skinning the skimpy bikini panties down and kicking them aside.
"Move over here," Justin ordered metallically. Hilda walked slowly toward him, feeling the air on her nakedness, trying to assess the hard-eyed director, to gauge the affect her nude slenderness was having on him.
She had nerve. He had to give her credit. Her large perfect breasts moved enticingly as she slowly undulated toward him. She did move better without clothes. Her pubic patch was exactly the same tan color as her hair. Naked, she had the kind of feline grace of a young Lauren Bacall, but it was completely hidden by her expensive but somehow unattractive clothes. The breasts were much better, of course. Justin couldn't remember ever seeing more perfect breasts. Their full perfection was even more startling against her slender body with the long, long legs. He felt his balls tighten automatically.
He'd had to do without a lot of things in the last ten years, since his blacklisting, but women were not one of them. Even away from Hollywood, his deep trained voice and handsome heavy face attracted women.
It had been a goddamned hard ten years, tramping around the country directing clods in The Man Who Came to Dinner. After the blacklisting he hadn't even been able to get a job on a skin flick or a spaghetti Western. Hollywood was a closed shop and the gossip far deadlier than in the smallest Midwestern hamlet.
Strangely enough, despite the headlines that had generated the Hollywood gossip, none of the little theatre groups he'd directed these last lean years had ever heard of the Executive Convention Center or that he had owned it. The public memory was far shorter than the industry memory. The irony of it all was that what made the industry wary in 1961 would hardly be commented on in 1971.
The important thing now was taking over the Peabody Academy. This was an opportunity that he could build a bankroll out of... a stake to go back and produce his own movie. Just one was all he needed, and he'd be welcomed back to the bosom of Hollywood.
He slid forward to the edge of the couch and reached out to pull Hilda's naked hips toward him. She stood right in front of him, and her smooth skin was popping into goosebumps. She was losing her nerve, and he could almost smell her fear coming back. Without a word he spread her thighs in a straddled stance. Still looking at the curly tan patch of hair, casually, without warning, he rammed two fingers straight up in her cunt all the way.
"That's what you came for, my dear," he whispered, feeling the warm wet walls of her vagina clenched around his fingers.
"No-o-o-ooooooo!" she screamed as she felt the fingers of his huge hand stab her, deep into her unprepared and unready hole. She was impaled on those brutal fingers like a fish on a gig, and she squirmed and tried to disengage that terrible hook from her flesh. But he held her fast by the hips with his other hand, and she could feel those beefy fingers curling inside her and she jerked with the pain. It was even worse than that damn metal cylinder that the doctor used to dilate her for examinations.
"You want to play games, and I'm rather good at games," he grunted, kneeling so that his mouth came even with one full breast, its brown eye pointing at him. He caught it in his mouth and sank his teeth into the soft pale brown flesh, flicking his tongue across the nipple like a lick of flame. His fingers jammed even harder into her tight pussy, and he began to suck the full tit like a great bear cub at its mother's dug.
"Ah-hhh-hhhhhhhh!" She could feel the pain of his teeth and the hook still in her, and she began to feel all her confidence evaporate. This was not like any man she'd known. Before she'd always felt she had the upper hand, but not now. His powerful mouth began to suck hard on her breast, and she felt the soft marrow, the central essence begin to flow out through her hard nipple.
His hand began a slow fucking into her constricted passage, the big fingers arching against her clitoris as they descended and rammed into the cringing hollow. Justin could feel that muscular-walled receptacle begin to seep its protective liquid as he sucked and tongued and bit her breast.
Hilda gritted her teeth, sucking in her breath as she did. She tried to focus her mind on an imaginary scene... herself being washed by waves of applause from a huge audience as she stood in an amber spotlight. She had to get through the pain and degradation, for she had no doubt now that it would be a debasing experience. He'd made it clear that he was the rider, the master, and she would have to obey... and bear the spur.
Garrett felt his cock twitching and swelling in great pulses inside his pants as though it were being pumped by some inner pulmotor. To his amazement, she was beginning to heat up. It didn't take much with this one, as he'd hoped. Yes, sometimes, these long stringbeans turned out to be the really passionate ones. His fingers were slippery with her lubrications. As he drew his fingers out, he let his index finger linger at her clit and massaged it briefly in a rotary motion before plunging into her again. He dug into her small round buttock with his other hand, pressing her whole pelvis into his ravishing fingers, as though he was going to ram them all the way through her slender body.
The assaulting fingers held her like an impaled effigy, and she swayed, her hands reaching out to steady herself on his great bull shoulders. Hilda could feel the hard muscles under his thin cotton shirt, muscles working as he finger-fucked her and chewed now at her other breast. She could hear his rasping breath and feel the heat from his nostrils flaming out like dragon's breath against her flesh.
"Ohh-hhh-hhh-hhh." The breath hissed out of her as she felt his burning tongue swirl around her erect nipple and his full mouth with the sneering sensual lips sucked greedily on her shaken breast. His finger lingered at her clitoris, massaging and branding a spreading scorched place in her flesh like a hot coal. It heated her loins with a building warmth. She threw her hips forward and spread her legs a little wider to receive the stabbing poker of his fingers. Hilda shuddered in spite of herself at the thought of what his cock might do to her. It would be bigger, far bigger than even his fingers ramming into her tenderness.
Garrett felt his knee stiffening. He reluctantly took his fingers from her hot, arching cunt and his mouth from her breast and stood up. His thickness contrasted with her slender-ness, but he was only a few inches taller despite the large head and heavy body. He looked at her tauntingly for a minute, his black eyes sweeping her as though he were considering purchasing her... which, indeed, he was.
"Undress me," he ordered.
"But... I..."
"Remove my clothes," he commanded again, as though she were his servant. His voice had the tone of her father when he ordered the cringing workers around, the small managers and field supervisors for his far-flung oil interests. Yes, Garrett would use just that tone to demand that an actress do as he directed.
Timidly she put out one hand to unbutton his shirt, trying to avoid his eyes and smarting from his insulting voice.
"Hurry," he demanded calmly. Suddenly she felt her anger rise like a spurt from a turned-on fountain. She wasn't his damned servant. She wasn't his to order around like a common whore. He hadn't paid for her yet. She jerked the last button free, ripping the cloth.
Damned tyrannical prima donna! She turned to walk away.
"You little bitch," he snarled, grabbing her arm and whirling her to face him. "That was a Sulka shirt."
"Yes... I know," she answered coolly. Did he think because she lived in Dallas and went to Peabody that she was a hick who didn't know a handmade Sulka shirt when she saw one? Her father had never worn anything else.
"I'll buy you another one."
His eyes were blazing and she thought for a moment he was going to hit her and spin her across the room.
"No one buys me, baby!" He picked her up by her thin arms and lifted her off the floor and threw her back on the bed among the mountainous pillows. She watched as he tore off the torn shirt and flung off his expensive gray slacks and monogrammed silk shorts. Her heart was beating wildly. She heard the heavy shoes hit the floor as he toed them off and bent to rip off his socks. Her eyes were nailed to his enormous rock-hard jutting penis that looked as thick and deadly as an ax handle. It was as huge and outsize as the rest of his bear's body with the thick mat of black hair covering his chest and growing in a "V" down his belly to spread in the pubic triangle. He looked more than ever like a great black bear, for his arms, bulging with swelling muscles, were covered with black hair too, and his hard thighs as well.
He snatched the wad of shirt off the coffee table where it had fallen. "No one buys this!" He shook the cloth at her, "Or this." He dropped the shirt to grab the pole of his thick upstanding cock and wave it at her as she lay with heaving breasts in the hollowed pillows.
She could see the veins standing out on the great blunt-ended instrument he held like a bludgeon in his hand. Even in his big hand it looked massive and threatening. One tear of liquid drooled from the glans and hung like thick syrup. A shiver of anticipation and chilling fear rippled through her as she imagined that pickaxing into her soft body. His testicles hung in the scrotum like great balls heavy with molten fire, and she could imagine the boiling vats spewing out of that huge muzzle into her belly.
He dropped to his knees on the bed and straddled her body, coming in for a close-up. He never took his blazing black eyes from her terrified face as he casually reached down to grab his huge prick again and just as casually wiped the drooling head on her soft breasts as though she were a rag. He eased back on his doubled knees and caught both her heavy breasts in his huge paws and slid that great ax handle between them until the head rested right against her wind pipe. He trust it hard against her constricted throat, still holding her breasts pushed against the thick base to form a fleshy tunnel.
"You were the one who wanted to play games, baby. Suppose you tell me just what game you had in mind... and I'll decide if it's acceptable," he said grimly.
Hilda had never felt so humiliated. He treated her like dirt. His hands were bruising her tender breasts, and the head of that enormous cock, rammed so hard against her throat, felt as though it were cutting off her breath. She could feel it beating a pulse on her naked skin and, in spite of her terror, she felt a thrill race through her loins with his hands crushing her breasts. His bare buttocks were mashing her ribs, and she felt completely trapped. She reached up one hand and closed it over the head of his pulsating shaft and moved it slightly so she could talk.
She felt the tears tighten her throat, as pressing as his penis. "I... guess... I didn't... I... don't know... I'm sorry," she wavered in little gasps as the tears came out and ran unheeded down her cheeks.
Garrett slid down her frightened body and gathered her in his huge arms, digging one under her thin shoulders and one under her little round butt, letting his hard legs enclose hers.
"Just don't ever start something with me you're not prepared to finish. Understand?" She nodded dumbly, feeling the tears sliding down her cheeks. "I'm not one of your panting, pimpled boy friends. But you'll never be an actress until a man's fucked you." His head dropped, and she felt his sensual mouth on hers, and he kissed her long and ferociously. She was trembling and shaking in his arms, but she closed her tired eyes and gave herself up to feeling this great bear of a man, opening her mouth under his and taking his thrusting tongue into her throat, sucking it in sobs and gasps.
He could feel her long narrow bones under him like a colt that needed breaking. Her big incongruous breasts were mashed into the curling matted hairs of his chest. He pushed his thighs between hers and lay in the cradle, cupping her buttocks and pulling her up to him even harder. His tongue explored her receptive mouth, every ridge and hollow. His rigid cock was pulsing fretfully in the bowl of her little flat belly.
Gradually her sobs were easing, and she found she liked being in this bear hug, sucking his hard tongue that fucked into the warm cavern of her mouth as fiercely as his fingers had into her cunt. Inside she could feel the muscles drawing in as though his great rod were already there, and the thought of his putting it there was not so horrifying. She was beginning to want it there... right up inside her, filling her void. She could taste the heavy cognac in his mouth as she darted her own tongue into his. They tongue-fucked back and forth, their breaths panting laboriously through their nostrils.
Garrett tore his mouth away at last and sank his teeth just hard enough into her earlobe for her to cry out, "O-o-o-o-o-ooooooo!" She'd do better than that when he sank his bull cock in that hot little cunt of hers.
He arched up just enough to look down the length of their naked bodies, hers hairless except for the muff of tan tangles and lean and fragile, the hip bones showing in sharp little wings, his heavy and thick and hairy with black curling hairs. "Put it in for me," he panted, his head still burrowed downward where he could see. He wanted to see it going in. Her hand came up obediently and clasped his huge shaft like a sheath. It jerked in her hand responsively.
Hilda held the enormous rod and felt it jerk. Oh God. It was so big. She arched her hips, spread her legs even wider, and quakingly began to guide the seeping head till it touched the first guard hairs of her own in-sucking pussy. She had him now... hot, panting, and wanting... that's the way she wanted him. She'd get the part all right. He was heaving the breath through his lungs like a snorting bull ready to charge. Carefully she guided it slightly down till she felt the pushing head touch her other mouth, her vulva lips that were as wet as if they'd been licked by a tongue, but it was her own inner secretions that had slicked them.
He was moaning now through gritted teeth as he watched his cock being guided by her little thin hand into her opening, moistly warm pussy lips. Justin could see her hips rotate slowly as she gently insinuated his giant pole into the very outer lips. He saw the head disappear and felt the vulva lips close hungrily over it.
"GODDDDDD!" he groaned, and threw himself into her, letting the full weight of his body thrust his aching, burning prick all the way into her waiting hot hole in one lunge.
"NO-O-O-O-0-00000000000000!" she screamed, trying to press her buttocks through the bed to get away from the tearing pain that ripped through her with the terrible stab of that enormous, great, raging cock, but she was sliced through the vitals. Her head twisted from side to side as she writhed with the terror and pain, trapped by the full weight of his massive body.
"Please... please... stop... oh... stop..." she sobbed, her hands clawing at his shoulders and then pushing on his powerful biceps in an effort to dislodge him. She'd never felt anything like that terrible incredible pain of his mammoth cock plunged into her so far that she could feel the head pulsing hard into her soft womb. How could it be so excruciating when she'd had any number of men in her short life? It wasn't as if she were a virgin. But, oh God... this was killing her. It felt as though she were pierced completely through the core of her body and that the head was going to come out the back of her neck. She'd thought she was ready... that fucking him would be so easy... such an easy way to get the part... but sweet Jesus she'd never expected anything like this!
Christ! She was tighter than even the assholes he'd had in his time. The lascivious pressure of her skinning cunt walls was clenching him to a premature climax. He didn't know how in hell he was going to hold on. Just entering had almost triggered his whole aching, lusting load right then, and he had never had any problem with premature ejaculation. Those narrow sinuous hips of her... she must be built like a greyhound inside, small and lean. He eased back and took a little of the weight on his knees and elbows. God, she was crying like a madwoman!
He caught her mouth and tried to still her as he fucked very slowly in and out experimentally. Unbelievable stabs of rapture radiated through his hungry loins as his great aching cock was alternately squeezed and released from the vise of her hot wet pussy. He could feel his belly churn and his balls swell to tight balloons that threatened to burst the seams of his scrotum.
Hilda turned her head because she couldn't even kiss him with the huge knife cutting into her very being. The sobs were blubbering out of her mouth, and a red sheet of agonizing pain was engulfing her body. She could feel him fucking in and out, and her legs were so spread-eagled now that she was getting a cramp where her left thigh joined her hip socket, and that only added to the pain through her box.
"Oh... please... please..." she sobbed, digging her heels in to try and dislodge him by pushing up with her hips. She felt their cleaving bodies rise a few inches off the bed with her supreme lifting effort, but he only clung harder and... and fucked that terrible cock deeper and deeper into her pain-wracked body.
Garrett ground his pelvis into the squirming pliant flesh beneath him, feeling her elastic sheath slip tightly, wetly around his thick fleshy rod. Her seeping vaginal walls consumed him as he raced its full length into her belly. His balls slapped with a resounding staccato sound against the round cheeks of her pale ass.
"Aghghghghghghhhhhhhhhh!" he grunted as he worked harder, uncaring now that her cries hadn't stopped but only increased and her face and hair were wet with tears. He could no more stop that driving force of his maddened cock and bursting balls than he could have given up booze or the theatre. She wanted it. She started it, and by God she was getting it! It was too goddamned bad that it was more than she bargained for. How was he supposed to know she had such an abnormally small cunt... though he realized it might be the other way around. He knew his was bigger than the average prick. Every man thought he was, but Justin knew from locker room parades that he really did have a huge penis. He knew one thing for sure... this one could never have a baby normally if she couldn't handle his prick, big as it was.
Hilda bit her lips now, praying it would soon be over... that he would shoot that load of boiling sperm into her belly and let her go. She held on to his great shoulders as her whole body was rocked with his onslaught, trying to somehow get through the pain. Her legs felt as though they were being sheared off at the points where they joined her hips, and she had to move them. She wrapped them around his waist and hoped they would stop hurting, that the cramp would leave, and miraculously it did. This brought her pelvis and clitoris higher and her slightly upturned hole into closer contract with his driving pole. Another miracle happened! The pain was eased even though he was lunging even farther into her belly. It was easier! She could even feel her battered vagina begin to respond, and the fucking into her was raising the familiar tingling sensation and radial warmth to flow. Maybe it was going to be all right.
He felt her legs wrap around his body. Her whole pussy was open to him, and her sobs begin to ease and turn to mewls and moans. Garrett grabbed her ass in his hands and pounded into her waiting hole even harder and faster, unable to stop the bubbling, grunting sounds erupting from his throat and chest as he drove into her like a maniacal piledriver. Jesus! This was the best fuck he'd had in years because she was tighter than a goddamned virgin.
"Yess-ss-ss-s-ssss!" she moaned as she rode even higher on his pole. She felt him lift her legs and drape them over his bear shoulder. She was coming to life! It was going to be all right. She rode higher and higher up the huge throbbing pole that dug at her interior like a ramming war machine. Hilda could feel the fires that had been banked come to life and begin to spark and flame.
Suddenly he slammed into her and arched his back like a great sea lion that had come up for air, harpooned through the gut, hanging in mid-air, too pained to move, hanging there immobile and mortally wounded.
"GOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDD," he bellowed, as he felt the mechanism begin, the inordinate intricacy of his manhood fulfill its function and start to peak and trigger a great tidal wave of hot life-giving sperm into her belly. The pumping of the dam began. His semen shot in scalding streams into her pooled womb as the great bleated balls sent gushes of hot liquid under pressure out of the tight constricted narrows of his huge nozzle of cock. "Je-e-e-e-e-e-e-ssssssssss!" he screamed. The hot sticky load rushed in frenzy from his swollen scrotum along the tube, the tiny close tunnel of his great throbbing, pulsing bull-like prick to the nirvana pool of her churning belly... and she took all he had into her channeled vitals. He spewed the thin hot streams into her clasping, sucking cunt that was still so tight it milked him furiously in a seemingly never-ending burst of tidal-wave orgasm that went on and on.
"Ohhhhhhhh... Godddd... baby... ooo!" Justin thought it would never end. It felt as if gallons of his very essence poured into her in huge pulsing liquid gushes. The very life was pouring out of him, and he would sleep a long time. He rammed again and again, convulsively like a dying chicken with a wrung neck, still quickening in the semblance of life. He tightened and plunged again and again... and again... and again... until finally he only twitched and gasped, clenched feebly, and fell on her with the great weight of his utterly exhausted and completely fulfilled body that only showed life through his gasping, heaving chest and nostrils.
Hilda clasped him tighter around the great bear's body, rising now on the wave of his quaking, erupting, explosive climax that sent the almost never-ending spurts of his thick hot, searing creamy semen cascading over her womb, washing her with torrents of blazing liquid that rose and gushed in the quiet pool of her belly into quickening rippling hot-springed life. Her pelvis rose like a bone-and-flesh bluff, thrust up into the air by his quaking turmoil, and her legs clasped him and rode ever upward to reach the ever-receding peak that kept escaping her efforts. She strained and clutched, her hands now on his flaccid ass as she strove to get up that treacherous height. Her nails dug and her thighs labored, first on his shoulders, then around his waist, to try and keep the rapidly shrinking rigidity of his great prick within her. But it was withdrawing... shrinking... pulling from her before she could get to that bright peak. Oh God. He was going to leave her high and dry. He mustn't! She was so close now. After all the pain and humiliation, he couldn't leave her there quaking and straining and trying and hurting now... not from pain... but from the interruption of her own so-close eruption and bliss.
"Garrrrrretttt!!!" she wailed. "Don't leave... me!..." And then she felt his shrunken prick pull out with a plopping sound. She was alone and achingly hollow... pulsingly hollow and pulsing in futile efforts on air.
"S'all... right... baby..." he sighed. "Don't... worrryyy..." He kissed her mouth feebly and then slid his mouth down her hot nakedness until he had slithered down between her legs and his mouth fastened on her dripping, oozing pussy. He began lapping up his own hot cum as though it were milk and he still a hungry cub who didn't want to waste it.
She felt his lapping tongue and arched up hopefully and moaned, "Yesssss... lick it... lover... make me... cum... hurry!" Her hands found pillows and stuffed them under her ass to give him better access to her splayed and opened cunt that was dying of malnutrition and deprivation.
His face was wet with his own cum. Justin licked and licked the warm sweetness until he could taste her secretions too, and he stabbed his tongue into her sucking cunt, the soggy hairs tickling his nose and his nostrils drinking in her tangy, woman-lusting smell. Christ! He hadn't meant to shoot so soon, but he couldn't help it. That viselike pussy of hers had milked him, and he simply couldn't hold it any longer. Jesus! This was the best fuck he'd had in years.
He was reviving a little now, and he brought his huge paws up and delicately spread her excited flesh until his tongue could isolate her throbbing erect little clitoris that stood to attention and begged his indulgence. He touched it with his wet, practiced tongue. Hilda screamed and caught his great shaggy head in her hands, shoving his face harder into her ringing, jangling, demanding clit.
Garrett sucked on the tiny pseudo-phallus, and as he sucked she moaned and writhed up to him, grinding it to him fiercely and hard, her whole body jerking in need. He lifted his head and looked at her soaking cunt, the swollen aperture outlined with wet hair, the lascivious pink folds of flesh open to him. She groaned and tried to thrust it even closer to his fiery tongue. He licked downward from the clit, throbbing and quivering, to her puckered, crumpled little asshole, the same pale brown as her nipples. He teased the tiny brown opening with his tongue,' laving it and circling it.
She felt his tongue tickling and licking at her asshole, and the salacious sensation sent her even higher toward that point in time of promised fulfillment. "Oh-h-hhhhhhhhhhh... yessssssssssss!" she moaned, and felt his hardened tongue jab into the tiny orifice and jerked at the wounding. Oh God... it had to be soon.
Justin fucked her anus with his tongue, jabbing harder and harder into the tight, muscular passage. Her head was flopping from side to side, and her pelvis jumped and writhed. The clenching little passage clutched his tongue ferociously in time to her wailing. He could feel her cunt juices flowing down to wet the crumpled anal opening.
He could tell she was getting close, and his invading tongue slid back up to her flowering cunt. Justin rammed the stiffened taster deep into her clasping hollow and began fucking it as fiercely as he'd fucked her rectum. Her rubbery wet vaginal walls milked on his probing, fucking tongue feverishly, and she was almost delirious.
"Ohhhh... lover... fuck it... ohhhh... fuck... fuck... FUCK!" Her cunt was slamming into his face as she struggled, jerked, rotated, and writhed against his pillaging tongue. All thought had left her except to keep that heavenly hellish brutal ravishing tongue in her sucking cunt until she came screaming. She was almost there. Her thighs closed around his head. She set her fingers in his black and silver hair, trying to devour his whole head with her hungry pussy.
Suddenly Garrett felt her stiffen to a rigid, screaming, raving orgasm. His hands under her buttocks felt every muscle lock in cords and ridges with her spine set in a concrete column. Her legs shot out and quivered in mid-air, and her hands clamped on his head and tried to force his face completely inside her bursting vagina.
"AHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGH-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, arching every muscle to the blinding explosive, bursting, careening, arcing orgasmic climax that threatened to end her life right then. The sensations were so overwhelming and unearthly that she thought she must be dying... dying in this beautiful, incredible bliss that must never stop.
At last Garrett lifted his dripping face to look at her almost unconscious face, the tan hair damp and tangled, the eyes closed, the mouth slack and open. He pulled himself off her and wearily stumbled to the bathroom.
Hilda lay for a long time, and finally her head began to function again. She could hear water running in the bathroom. A catlike ease and satisfaction crept through her as she stretched her limbs in exultation. She washed herself in makeshift fashion in the tiny kitchen, looking around with a proprietary air. The part was hers. She knew it.
Dressed again, she lit a cigarette and waited. At last Garrett came in. He too was dressed, in loose slacks and a burgundy silk robe with an ascot tucked in the neckline. His silver-streaked black hair was in the familiar swept-back mane. He looked more than ever like a Hollywood director. He carefully took a cigarette from the onyx box on the table and inserted it in the holder and lit it as though she weren't even there.
"When do rehearsals start?" she smiled smugly.
"I'll call you a cab," he answered, turning to the desk and picked up the receiver.
Hilda flew to his side. "Mr. Garrett, I said when do rehearsals start?" The panic poured from her strident, affected voice.
He put the receiver back and turned to her patiently, as though to explain something to an idiot child.
"Tryouts start tomorrow night. I haven't cast the part yet. And besides, I have more important things in mind for you."
"But... but... you said... you promised..." she spluttered, outraged and beginning to boil inside.
"I promised nothing," he answered coolly. "You assumed. I have never yet cast a part from a supine position." He picked up the receiver again and turned to dial.
"You... you bastard!" she screamed. All her hopes, all her plans!
"I told you I have more important things in mind for you." He started to dial, and Hilda grabbed the phone and flung it to the floor. It crashed with an abortive ring.
"More important to whom? To you!... not to me!" She was shaking with rage and a fury that threatened to empty her stomach right there. She wheeled and threw on her trenchcoat and grabbed her purse.
Garrett calmly put the phone back on the desk. "I'll call you tomorrow when you've returned to the realm of rationality."
She knew that with every word she screamed her chances of ever getting a part with him were dashed, and her father had made it clear he would never send her to New York until she had made it locally as an actress. But she could not stop the stream of filth that poured from her mouth in her agony of disappointment and frustration.
Hilda ran most of the eight blocks back to Peabody, her breath and her tears coming in spurts. The spring air chilled her wet face. How could she have been such a fool... such a blithering fool? She wanted to slap that smug, sophisticated, sneering face of his until he fell dead. She wanted to kill him... to maim him... to ruin him. And one day... she promised herself... one day...
She ran up the front steps of the dimly lit house to the veranda, wiping her cheeks on her scarf. Her cork-soled sandals made no sound, but her heart was beating so loudly it felt as though it would wake the whole house. She stopped in front of the door to dig in her purse for the key.
Among the makeup, wallet, bank books, notebooks and kleenex, she finally found it in the bottom. Her hand stopped just before she inserted it in the lock. Through the etched glass pane of the door, between the old-fashioned curliness of frosting in a curve of clear glass, she saw a couple on the hall couch.
My God! It was Celia... that little snip Celia! The bitch Hilda knew, without Garrett's telling her, would get the part... her part. She put her eyes closer to the glass so she had an unimpeded view. Hilda held her breath and looked.
Celia was half naked, seated on a fully clothed man, seated right over his obviously naked cock and riding him in a wild bucking fucking. Hilda scarcely breathed at all as she watched the modest, the naive, the innocent Celia thundering down on a huge prick that was slicing right into her cunt. The Celia who could make a whole audience want to throw their arms around her in love and adoration. The Celia who had every man in sight defending her and protecting her... as though she were a saint. Some saint!
Web felt the naked hot walls of Celia's pussy squeezing him with what seemed like hundreds of muscular fingers as he fucked up and down wildly, making the springs of the couch creak faintly under him. Oh, Jesus! He was getting close. He was getting so close! He could feel the soft rubbery head of her womb give and depress as he thrust up hard into the wet, slippery, blazing hot depths inside her belly. His hands ran over her naked thighs doubled around him, and he clutched the smooth white flesh, kneading its fresh tenderness. They went up to her breasts that bounced and jellied in his hands, her bra pushed up over them, the silk shirt unbuttoned and flapping around her silky hips. There was something even more salacious about lying here fully dressed with Celia partially covered by the opened shirt and fucking into her hot receiving, clenching brown-haired hole.
Celia's head hung and her breasts were propped by Web's hot covering hands. She clutched his forearms through the light sports jacket as though they were reins and she was riding to a victory that was almost in sight. She was leaning into it as she bucked up and down on the saddle of his hips, impaled with every motion on his driving, thundering, beating penis, and the sound of hooves, feverishly increasing the pace, was ringing in her ears. With every upbeat of that saddle with its stab into her belly, she met it head-on with a plunge of her shaking body, straining on to the finish.
"Ride, baby... fuck... fuck harder... cum on... with me... Fuck!" Web grunted, his breath heaving out of his chest in near sobs as he arched his pelvis up, driving his near-bursting cock straight up to the hilt inside her churning belly. Her hair was swinging wildly around her face, and his hands were bruising her breasts in maniacal spurring fury.
Hilda pressed her eye right up to the glass in an effort to see who Celia was fucking so wildly. The top of a blond wavy head was all she could see, and a sports jacket and gaping slacks where his cock thrust into Celia's pussy. Web. It had to be Web. The accountant... the staid cool young businessman. Hilda could see his hands with the blond hair holding and squeezing Celia's breasts. Her own breasts ached, just looking; they felt lonely and yearning.
She'd always wanted to watch, and now was her chance. But, oh God, she didn't realize it could do this to her. She felt her own recently ravished pussy igniting again and clenching inward on itself, beginning to pour out moistness. Oh Jesus.
As she saw them straining higher and higher and could even hear their muffled moans, Hilda felt an unreasoning jealousy and fury attack her gut. That little bitch-poor and from a common, vulgar family-had everything Hilda wanted. The power on the stage, the beauty that mesmerized people, the grace and poise, and now... she even had a highly desirable man who'd probably marry her. Hilda even imagined that Celia had got to Garrett first and fucked him into giving her the part. Oh God! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair!
She'd find a way. Somehow she'd find a way. Her mind raced as her eyes watched and her own hand came out to press under her trenchcoat to her knit-covered crotch. Celia's parents! Of course. That was the one thing she trembled over... the possibility of being yanked home by her Victorian, prosaic, protective, watchdog parents. Well, Hilda had found the way. She'd get Celia yanked home if it was the last thing she ever did. With Celia out of the way, Hilda was confident. Rosemary wasn't that good, and there was no one else in the little theatre group who could do it.
They rose in tandem, meeting on the upbeat, and their bodies banged together, bone on bone, as their fleshly organs that fitted so perfectly together sawed in and out in abandoned fucking. Celia screwed herself up and down Web's hot rigid pole in a wild salacious dance, her body straining every muscle... up and down and in and out and around and around.
Every thought had flown from her head, and her one glimmer of consciousness was fastened on the scintillating sparks that sent such blazing bliss into the depths of her aching belly. It filled and emptied, filled and emptied, with his raging, bullying, raping cock. She gave herself willingly to this boiling inferno, the depths of a lusting hell for which she knew there was no redemption. Her weak and naked body, her whore's body now, was quenching her very soul, and there was only the completion, the fulfillment of her base and ignoble and pliant senses.
But it was not the theatre or theatre people or the acting out of other lives and other emotions that her father had thought would bring her to these depths... it was her own yearning, pleading, giving, aching, lusting, flesh. The fault was her own. Her own-and she must bear the consequences.
Suddenly she felt Web dig his powerful hands into her smooth, silky hips. He threw his jerking, rigid steely-spiking maleness into the very core of her being, as his hands dragged her even farther onto his naked flesh rod that stabbed into her soft womanly womb.
"BAAAABBBBBBBYYYYYYYYYYY!" he screamed, lifting his saddled hips straight up so she was impaled on the arrow of hot pulsating prick that began to gush a scalding stream into the very secret recesses of her lurching belly. As it hit her vitals with such pressurized force, she felt her own organs begin to flood the fountain of his hot probe with a rush of blazing excessive, orgasmic fluid... the pleasure-pain that she had ridden so hard to attain. It was a wide and beautiful plateau of emotion and sensation that drained the very life from her.
They struggled on the peak-clutching, screaming, convulsing, crying, panting, and clenching each other in the agonizing ecstasies and celestial raptures that enveloped their bodies and souls as they clung together, almost frightened by the force and intensity of their shared experience. Their two beings twined and joined in a cataclysmic union that seemed to shake the very earth until it trembled on its fragile axis.