Chapter 7
Tommy Johnson sprawled on his back, naked, with Cathy Riggins, equally naked, astride him but with her upper body lowered upon his until her soft breasts were mashed upon his hard chest. Tucked deeply within her snug cunt was Tommy's upstanding prick upon which he had gently sat her down. Lamplight bathed the bedroom in a soft glow.
Cathy moved her hips languidly, pressing down with her knees as she guided herself up and down slowly on Tommy's rigid pole, then waggled her hips friskily from side to side as thrill after thrill titillated her simmering hot-box. "Like it?" Tommy whispered into a small ear almost concealed by Cathy's flowing blonde hair.
"Mmmmmmm!" she sighed wordlessly. "It's just scrumptious, Tommy." Blithely she continued her self-propelled ride on the flesh-rooted spear lodged securely within her, every movement in tranquil slow motion. She opened half-closed eyes to look down into Tommy's blue ones. "It's better for you the other way, isn't it though? With me on the bottom?"
"It's good for me any way," he assured her.
"You're just saying that because you know I'm enjoying it on top," she said wisely. She gave an extra flirt of her wide-flaring bare hips, then gasped at the surge of sensation in her platinum-haired pussy. "Oooooooooooh!" she breathed contentedly. Then she giggled high-spiritedly, girlishly gleeful. "Just give me another couple of minutes like this," she begged winsomely, once more easing her well-lubricated vagina up and down on Tommy's robust young cock. "Then we'll do anything you want."
"You can stay right there the rest of the night if you like," he insisted. He had been stroking her shoulders; he ran his hands down her smooth back and cupped in each palm a velvety buttock, patting and kneading both malleable spheres. Cathy kissed his neck rapturously, and he returned the kiss with equal passion.
"Ohh, this is wonderful!" she exulted. Her eyes sparkled as she agitated her hind parts in sprightly fashion in Tommy's hands. "I just love it when you feel me, Tommy."
"Feel you where?" he teased.
"Anywhere," she said lovingly. "Anywhere you want to feel me." Her tone was a mixture of carefree vivaciousness and sweetly refreshing unembarrassed delight. She slowed gradually in her hip-jogging to a serene immobility. "I'm ready, Tommy. Turn me over."
"You're the most perfect little thing!" he said fiercely, giving each nude bottom-globe a sharp spank before transferring his hands to her slender waist. "All right, tuck your arm and shoulder under, and over we go." He propelled himself up and over her slim figure and balanced himself on his knees above her, his cock still in her grotto. "Now I'm gonna make you squeak, Miss Priss!" he gloated with pretended ire.
"I'll squeak for you any time you like," Cathy said soberly. She smiled up at him seraphically, then grinned a gamin, unladylike grin. "Fuck me hard, Tommy," she whispered almost inaudibly.
"Why, you little devil!" he exploded with laughter, then bent his shoulders and back to the task. Slowly at first but then with ever-increasing force he plunged his stout rod into Cathy's yielding elastic crypt. Her soft arms crept up and locked around his back as she held him tight against herself while the hard male tool ravaged her willing, cooperative pussy. She raised her legs higher and tried to anticipate Tommy's movements so that every quarter-inch of her sex-purlieu would be ready to welcome the broad-gauged intruder.
A quick stirring in her interior caused a quick intake of breath. "Tommy!" she murmured. "Ohhh, Tommy!" Her voice soared jubilantly in a paean of well-being. "Tommy! It's-doing it- again!"
Her legs writhed and her pelvic muscles fluttered madly as her hip-jerking, stomach-wrenching orgasm overwhelmed her. "Ohhhh!" she groaned blissfully. "That was-so nice!"
Beneath her hands his shoulders flurried mightily. He came up higher on his knees and pounded Cathy's warm belly as the tip of his scouring prick trembled warningly. In seconds the jet stream was thundering from his vibrating cannon into Cathy's semen-scented bower. He rested on her breasts for several moments before lifting himself off her.
Cathy sat up immediately and leaned forward to look down between her parted legs. "Look at it!" she exclaimed with mock concern. It's so red in the face!"
"It looks like such a delicate, fragile, dainty little thing," Tommy observed. "Instead it has an appetite like a longshoreman and a fabulous expansion joint."
Cathy smiled peacefully. "I'm soaking," she said cheerfully.
"We can fix that," Tommy told her. He slid from the bed onto his knees beside it. He took hold of Cathy's legs and drew her toward him, elevating her knees and placing them over his shoulders. In seconds the flowerlike, crimson-lipped, golden-haired, crinkled rosette was directly beneath his mouth.
He lowered his head and began to lick at the overflowing juice oozing from the softly distended lips. A long, slow shiver rippled through Cathy as she felt his darting tongue cleaning her up. She lay docilely, unperturbed, her pulchritudinous thighs raised slightly to offer more freely to Tommy what he wanted. Both her small hands played lightly with his hair as the busy tongue cleansed every niche and cranny of her centerpiece. Tommy breathed the delectable woman-fragrance as he licked clean the glowing, coral-red chalice.
Cathy smiled at him happily when he gently took her legs down from his shoulders. "What are we going to do now?" she asked eagerly.
He laughed deep in his throat. "What would you like to do?"
A soft blush enveloped her pretty face. It spread both up and down, clear down to her pink-nippled, tip-tilted breasts. He had never seen such a blush, and he touched her skin wonderingly. It was warm to the touch. There was nothing diffident in her clear-eyed gaze or in her zestful young voice, however. "I'd like to be fucked again," she said composedly.
He reached for her and buried his face in her warm little belly-roll, lipping at the plump, silky white flesh.
"Fucked you shall be," he promised. "If I don't eat every inch of you first."
The immediately ensuing uninhibited proceedings in the bedroom were voiceless but not soundless.
In another lighted bedroom in another part of the city Jo Tucker made a lifting movement with her hands under the shoulders of the man between her legs. "No, Paul," she said quietly. "Come up higher on me. You're too far down."
She elevated her legs higher as Paul Bryson shuffled his nudity upward on her stomach. "That better?" he muttered.
"Much." She placed her hands on the upper slopes of his buttocks. "Slowly now. Let's get in tune."
She pressed down with her palms when he started to screw her at a jackrabbit pace, and he got the message and restrained himself slightly. "That's the way," Jo encouraged him, swinging her hips upward from the bed to meet his quick-stabbing thrusts into her cunt.
Immediately he began to shiver and shake and in seconds he spent into her interior with a muffled groan. He at once started to roll off her, but Jo seized his shoulders and held him. "Hold it, buster," she warned. "You're not going anywhere till I come, too." She began to contract her pelvic muscles upon the scarcely diminished big prick engulfed in her febrile nest.
Paul Bryson tried to control his rasping breath while he raged inwardly at his incontinence. He was no better than a schoolboy. What had triggered his sudden overflowing was the unexpected accompaniment of this earthy but pleasant woman's plump hips. It had been an agreeably new sensation which had caused him to lose control.
He raised his head from her grape-nippled breasts, startled. Something deep in the woman's vagina was nipping at the head of his still-retained penis. Her thighs were slowly frictioning his sides. "Move your ass," he heard her voice. "Slowly."
He lowered his head again and began to move upon her. He felt a surprising resurgence in his penis as he glided in and out, controlled by her hands on his rump. With the keen edge taken off his excitability by his ejaculation, he found it much easier to maintain the indicated pace. In his new, higher position he exerted much leverage which gave him a heady, heretofore unrealized feeling of power. Beneath him the woman's body rose metronomically to meet his every thrust.
He felt a slow-rising tide of excitement seeping through him again. The deep, warm clasp of the woman's vaginal walls upon his re-aroused penis seemed a perfect fit. Concentrating on maintaining the pace she was regulating, he was startled anew when like a hissing teakettle she exploded under him. Writhing, her legs clamped over his back as her behind flurried in a new rhythm. "Ohhhhh!" she cried in his ear. "Ahhhhhh, God! Oooooh!" Her panting breath signaled her extremity. "Whooo -ooOOHH! I'm-coming! Ahhhhh, sonofabitch, I'm-COMMMMMing!"
Her outcries roused him almost as much as the pelvic contractions signaling the inundation of his probing penis. He never heard a sound from Lucille. This woman gave him a definite sense of accomplishment, juvenile undoubtedly, but still there it was. He reached tentatively for the wide-spanned hind parts which had intrigued him when she undressed; would she reject his action?
"That's-the boy," Jo croaked from the depths of her sensual gratification. "Ride-it, cowboy."
Paul Bryson rode it. It took him a full two minutes longer, but he came again in a coruscating starburst of semen-draining immersion that left him feeling faint. When he recovered slightly, he felt so ridiculously pleased with himself that it should have been ludicrous. Instead, he felt proud. Looking down at Jo's shining face, peaceful in voluptuously satisfying carnality, he knew that he had never come close to such a totally satisfying experience before.
"Can we do it again?" he asked anxiously.
Jo opened eyes that had been hedonistically closed. "Right now?"
"I-I think so."
"You're in the saddle, aren't you?" she said briskly. "Here, take it out for a minute and I'll give you a little help."
Dr. Paul Bryson withdrew from the female flesh and eagerly presented himself for a little help.
"You mean he actually screwed you?" Wade Sampson exclaimed in delight. He and Jo Tucker were standing in the basement office of the Sheriff's Department.
"Three times, practically handrunning," she confirmed.
"Goddam, I'd have given a farm to see it!" Wade paused. "Three times? What the hell did you do, shove an electrified cattle prod up his asshole?"
"He's hung heavier than you, Wade," Jo said bluntly.
"The minister?" he asked in amazement.
"I felt sorry for him, though," she went on. "He was doing everything wrong. If my legs had been straight he'd have been lying on my knees instead of my stomach. If he didn't have a whang on him like a belaying pin he couldn't even have made contact."
"He's really got that much meat?"
"He really has. And now that he's got the hang of things since I showed him a few little tricks, I think he's going to chew up some scenery in this town. He's a handsome man, you know, and once he learns the racecourse he could be quite a stud."
Wade Sampson was shaking his head slowly. "You've got to be puttin' me on, Jo," he said coaxingly. "It's a gag, isn't it?"
"It's gospel," Jo affirmed. "When I sucked him up after-"
"You sucked off Bryson?"
"Up, not off. All he wanted to do was get it back in me."
Wade started to laugh. He was convulsed in a roaring gale of merriment, his big shoulders shaking helplessly. "Sonofabitch if-that isn't the-damnedest thing-I ever heard," he got out between gasping breaths. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "The goddam minister is a stud. How about that? Say, why do you suppose his old lady is such a sad sack in the hay?"
"I told you," Jo said patiently. "He's got the horsepower but he never had driving lessons. They've probably been going at it like a pair of ten-year-olds. Wade?"
"Yeah?"
"What are you going to do about it?"
"About Bryson?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Damned if I know right now. I got to think about it. There's got to be a jackpot somewhere in this thing."
"Suppose he calls me? He said he would."
"Crissake, keep feedin' it to him. Till I think of a payoff, anyway. So he's gonna call you? He learns fast, don't he?"
"Would you believe he learns well?" Jo said lightly.
Wade stared at her with narrowed eyes. "You fallin' for him? Sure sounds like it."
"I told you I felt sorry for him," Jo replied defensively.
"Okay, keep on feelin' sorry for him till I lower the boom. Any free servicin' after that an' I'll take it out've your ass." He grinned at Jo's look of unease. "Your ass bleached out yet? You must be just about ready to be hung up on a door."
"No!" she said quickly.
Wade's grin had disappeared. "Then stay in line. Or I'll feed you a dose of the quirt 'til you pray for a better world. Run along now. I'll call you when I've got an errand for you."
He watched her climb the inside stairs, not really seeing the flashing sweep of her good-looking legs as much as he saw a mental image of Dr. Paul Bryson's handsome face.
He felt a quick stirring of the savage lust that was never very far below the surface.
There had to be a way to set up the minister and his wife for a good hard fall.
Lucille Bryson sat on the edge of the bed in her nightgown in the bedroom of the manse and waited for her husband, Paul. It was time for their ritualistic midweek lovemaking, and she was wondering uneasily if there was any way Paul could tell that a penis other than his own had been forcefully inserted in her since a week ago. She had always wanted to ask how married women who cheated on their husbands solved this problem, but it wasn't something that a Christian woman could bring up at a Ladies' Aid meeting.
Her rectum had been terribly sore for the past two days, also, but there was no way Paul was going to know that. She still felt lewdly debauched and wantonly unchaste when she mentally pictured herself face down on the blanket in the Sheriff's Department office with the brutal Wade Sampson standing behind her brimful nude buttocks with his thick penis savaging her helpless anal passage. She cringed every time she thought of it. She should have fought instead of meekly acquiescing in her own degradation, but she had been so afraid of the merciless quirt.
And she was still subject to Wade Sampson's every sexual whim. She had told herself repeatedly that she should confess her predicament to Paul and remove herself from the onus of the deputy sheriff's blackmail, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Paul would scorn her as no better than a bitch in heat if he ever saw those dreadful pictures, Lucille thought as hot tears trembled just behind her eyelids. The way unbidden images of Wade's ravaging penis in her own sinfully eager vagina popped continually into her mind the phrase was painfully apt.
Paul Bryson walked into the semi-darkened bedroom and began to undress. He hadn't been able to make up his mind how to act with Lucille in this first conjugal encounter after his experience with the incredible Mrs. Tucker. Dared he employ any of his newly acquired expertise? For that matter, would it work with Lucille as it had with the dewy-skinned Jo Tucker? And Lucille would consider such abandoned activity the devil's handiwork.
He approached the bed as Lucille rolled her nightgown up under her neck as was her custom. He wondered if Lucille's bare bottom approached in attractiveness Jo Tucker's cute plumpness. He had never seen Lucille nude in their entire married life. He was tempted to turn on the bedroom light suddenly, claiming an absentminded moment, but he shrank from the certain aftermath of Lucille's chilly disapproval.
Lucille stretched out on her back tensely as Paul lay down beside her. Could he tell? Would he disown her as a dissolutely profligate wife? She quivered in the darkness when she felt Paul's hand on her body. Could he tell when he employed the usual digital manipulation to lubricate her dry vagina?
Paul hesitated when he felt Lucille's sudden flinching movement. Was something wrong? Her body felt stiff, and her sex zone was unusually moist, although that sometimes occurred a day or two preceding her period. He proceeded cautiously with the customary insertion of a finger in her orifice, and he felt her gradually relax. Everything seemed normal again by the time he mounted his wife.
Lucille was so thankful that disclosure of her shameful activities-even though they weren't her fault-had been avoided that it was an instant or two after her acceptance of Paul's weight that she realized something felt different. She couldn't decide what it was. Something about the position of her husband's body -Paul was inside her, no question about that, but somehow differently. Should she say something? Or was her reaction simply due to her anxiety about discovery?
And then Paul began to move on her, and at once the mystery deepened. Instead of the quick-thumping assault on her vagina to which she was accustomed, Paul was moving in long, controlled surges that inexplicably seemed to bury his masculinity far more deeply.
Lucille's first thought was that her husband had somehow hurt his man-parts and hadn't told her that he was attempting to maintain the weekly tryst when he wasn't feeling up to it. She started to question him, but paused when she felt a distinct tingling swelling in her labial lips. She shifted position uneasily; what was going on?
At her movement Paul's rhythmic plunging upon her accentuated markedly. Lucille caught her breath as the tingling became a hot-glowing coal throwing off heat all through her sex-receptacle. In seconds she was wallowing in a blissfully sensual state of semi-suspended animation as her whole body writhed. "Paul!" she exclaimed in amazement as her previously slack arms came up instinctively and seized his shoulders. Her pelvis began to throb. "Paul!" Her pleasure was so intense she thought she would faint.
He didn't even hear her. He had felt her unusual body activity but had been overwhelmed by the result without having opportunity to question the cause. His penis had never felt larger to him, and its swollen tip as he engulfed it with ever more and more vigor in his wife's clutching sanctuary seemed super-sensitive. He slashed mightily at the yielding suppleness containing him as he felt himself trembling on the brink. Then he exploded as thick sperm jets splashed vibrantly in to Lucille's vagina.
Eyes closed, Lucille floated dreamily even though pinned by her husband's body. Her orgasm has preceded his by a few seconds. The refreshing sexual easement was so enjoyable that she basked in unaccustomed zestful relish. Then a nagging thought intruded upon her well-being. Had the experience the other day triggered her unusual response? Would Paul be disgusted at her animality? Suspicious, even? Guiltily she removed the arms she was surprised to find holding him.
Paul pulled away from his wife's body hastily. He was pleased that he had brought Lucille to orgasm, but also apprehensive. What could he say if she started asking questions? For that matter, did she even approve of the natural force which he had felt shaking her? He needed time to think, he decided as he pulled on his clothes hurriedly.
Lucille felt an urge to talk, but Paul's quick departure from her slack, overflowing, still-sensitized woman-cell stifled the urge. What could she say that might not be self-betraying? Better to wait and think it through.
So the Brysons' postconjugal bedroom silence remained customarily unbroken.
"My mother is getting suspicious of my being away from the house so much," Cathy said seriously to Tommy. They were sitting in an armchair in the borrowed bedroom, Cathy on Tommy's lap, both nude except for Tommy's socks.
"Yeah?" he said lazily, one hand almost out of sight between the blonde girl's thighs as he played gently with her pubic hair, tweaking the fleecy golden curls. "Maybe we should invite her along?"
Cathy giggled infectiously, then turned serious again. "She keeps asking questions about why I have to spend so much time at the library, which is where I tell her I am. If she ever checks with Mr. Hardesty, she'll find out I'm lying. Then what?"
"More questions, I s'pose."
"That I won't be able to answer."
Tommy sighed. "D'you think your mother would adopt me an' then I could move in?"
Cathy smiled. "I'm afraid that's not the solution." She clambered up from Tommy's lap, dislodging his probing hand, then climbed onto his thighs, balancing herself on her knees. Leaning forward so that her full breasts brushed his chest, she kissed the tip of his nose, both cheeks, and finally his mouth. "Tommy," she said earnestly when the long kiss ended, "what are we going to do?"
He sighed again and made no answer for a moment. He smoothed Cathy's long blonde hair away from her eyes before he spoke. "Since I'm in love with you, it looks like I've gotta get a real job so we can get married."
Cathy's entire nubile body became motionless. "'Love'," she said softly. "That's the first time you've ever said it. I mean you've had me, and I knew you didn't exactly hate me, but you never said it."
"Ahhhhh, you just weren't listenin'," he teased. "I also mentioned marriage in case you didn't notice."
"As long as you said 'love' I don't care if you never said 'marriage,'" Cathy informed him. She kissed him again, then leaned back to look down into his face speculatively. "When did you decide you loved me?"
"When you turned up your little pink cunt and let me suck it," he said solemnly. He laughed at the quick blush that enveloped her pretty face. "No, baby, who the hell knows? I wouldn't lie to you that when we started out I was thinkin' of anything more than gettin' inside your pants. You just kind of grew on me, I guess."
"You never had to grow on me," Cathy said soberly. "When you didn't even know I existed, I loved you. As a girl at school used to say, since before I even had any hair on it."
"Not that you've got all that much now," he said. "Sometimes I still feel I'm contributin' to the delinquency of a juvenile."
"But she's your juvenile," Cathy said softly. "Right?"
"Right."
She slipped down from his lap and knelt in front of him, pulling urgently at his thighs to part them. She dropped her face down into his groin, then raised her head again. "I can't reach it," she complained. "Move out farther on the edge of the chair."
Obediently he shifted position until his penis and scrotum extended over the leather cushion, semi-reclining with his shoulders against the chair-back. Cathy stared down at the wrinkled-looking appendage. "Every time I see it like this I always get the most awful feeling it might never come up again," she said.
Tommy's flat belly trembled from his laughter. Cathy smiled at him apologetically before once more lowering her blonde head. She lipped the soft cock into her mouth and rolled it between her lips, teasing it with a quick-flirting tongue. She began to hum deep in her throat as Tommy had taught her, the vibration from her lips transferred to the prick which began at once to swell.
"You're really puttin' somethin' into it this afternoon, kid," Tommy said as his thighs tautened.
Cathy nibbled at the blubbery tip of the circumcised prong, then sucked at it gently. She widened her mouth and took in more of the stiffening rod, sliding her lips back and forth on the shaft whose continued extension tickled the back of her throat.
She pulled away momentarily to look at the bulging, purplish head she had sucked to instant readiness. "I just love to hold you in my month, Tommy," she said quietly.
"Very touching!" a rasping voice sneered.
Cathy whirled on her knees, her soft mouth a round O of surprise. Tommy came halfway up out of the armchair.
Wade Sampson stood in the bedroom doorway. "I been wonderin' why my nephew was so hard to get in touch with at home," he said. "So when I recognized the car-"
He strode into the bedroom, grinning. Cathy's hands flew to cover her nudity, and Wade's grin widened. It disappeared as he stared coldly at his nephew. "Lucky I happened along, huh? Since you were just gettin' it ready for me?" With a slow, deliberate movement he unzipped the trousers of his uniform. Cathy stared wide-eyed.
"Hold it!" Tommy blurted.
"Hold shit!" Wade seized Cathy's arm and dragged her several feet away from the armchair, her knees sliding on the carpeting until they burned. "Didn't I tell you I had my eye on this little gash?" He produced from his shorts a semi-erection which he dangled in front of Cathy's face. "Suck that one up if you want a man, little girl."
Tommy bounded to his feet from the depths of the armchair. "You sonofabitch, we're gonna get married!" He took two quick steps in Wade's direction, then halted when Wade raised his arm menacingly.
"That's right, boy," Wade said, brandishing a huge clenched fist. "You wanna see her with a busted nose? A few broken teeth? Then just keep comin' this way." He nudged the dazed Cathy with his knee. "Get to work down there, sis."
The muscles in Tommy's bare back bunched in frustrated inactivity. "Will you listen?" he demanded in anguish. "I said we're gonna get married!"
"Why don't you ask me to be best man?" his uncle suggested blandly. "Or maybe you don't think it'll be necessary after this afternoon?"
"If you pat one finger on Cathy I'll catch you in the dark some night an' put your lights out!" Tommy cried.
"You try it an' I'll hang you out to dry," Wade responded. He looked down at Cathy. "I'm not gonna tell you but this last time, girl. Suck that prick. And gimme the same performance I just saw from the doorway if you know what's good for you."
Tommy watched agoniziedly as Cathy's blonde head gingerly approached the semi-dangling blunt-headed big cock. He couldn't tell her not to do it because he knew his uncle well enough to know that Wade was easily capable of smashing the beautiful face. His heart went out to the shrinking girl, and he raged at his own impotence. If he could only get Wade away from her somehow-
But Cathy had decided to get it over with as quickly as possible. She moved her head quickly and took the semi-rigidity into her mouth with a moue of distaste. The odor was much stronger than Tommy's and almost gagged her. She closed her eyes and began to swirl her tongue around the shaft which at once grew harder.
"Goddam!" Wade grunted, widening his leg-stance. Cathy licked the prick-head and began to suck the increasingly turgid beefy prong. "Jesus-to-God-Almighty, that's quite a vacuum cleaner you got down there, blondie!"
Cathy swiveled her mouth back and fourth on the saliva-slippery cock, intent only upon ending her intensely degrading position. She felt the prick-head start to throb, and she started to back away. At the same instant Wade Sampson gripped the back of her blonde head and held her onto his spurting prick.
She had taken Tommy's sperm, but when she was prepared. Wade's hard-jetting semen-bursts overpowered her. She swallowed desperately, gagged, coughed, and swallowed some more. The excess of what she was able to get down ran along her chin and dribbled onto her breasts.
Wade didn't release her from her ignominious position until the last of his come had drained into her straining mouth. Then he pulled out roughly and stepped back from the miserable-looking girl.
Wade looked at the furious Tommy. "Not bad for an hors d'oeuvre, as we say in society," he jeered. "Now for the entree."
Speedily he divested himself of his uniform and underwear.