Chapter 7
Big Bill was coming.
He was in a small, sheltered cove, a secret place that, as far as he knew, was rarely used by anyone. For that reason he often utilized it himself. He had brought along one of his admiring retinue, a Chicano chick called FIora. She was a tall, tanned girl with long dancer's legs and a set of titties almost as good-sized as Angela's. Her face was round and soft, her brown eyes passionate and deep-set, and her lips as full as two tortillas placed over each other. Despite her religion's disclaimers, she liked fucking more than going to church. Her coal-black hair splaying over her face and shoulders, she had her haunches buried into wet, soft sand, right at the ocean's edge, and was feeling the cool splash of the surf against her back and the hot thrust of Big Bill's prick inside her wet, warm pussy.
Flora was coming, too.
Her cunt was quivering as if electrified, its juice-stained membranes clutching hard at Big Bill's cock that was stuffed so tightly inside her. Big Bill's cock was different from most cocks, in that not only was it long and strong, capable of holding a sustained orgasm for an incredibly long time, but also it was circumcised. Its foreskin was completely removed and its glans as smooth as butter. It could get inside a woman's cunt with amazing grace and speed, and once inside could really move around and touch all bases so that a woman was bound to have a great deal of sexual pleasure from his operations.
It wasn't circumcised because he was Jewish; he wasn't. Rather, he'd discovered early in life that the smoother and slimmer the cock, the quicker he could get it inside a woman's cunt before she, as women so often did, changed her mind. Therefore, the operation had been secretly performed at the age of 15. And, Big Bill had been balling ever since.
He could hear Flora mumbling something in Spanish, a language he understood, at least the basics. She seemed to be asking him to please keep on coming. She was having a bit of trouble with letting loose her own juice, due undoubtedly to certain religious hang-ups she'd once suffered.
Big Bill obliged in several ways.
His method of coming was neither a series of short bursts nor a long blast; rather, a middle ground, a series of advances and withdrawals. This, of course, stimulated his chicks' cuntal muscles like mad, causing them to really turn on when he was fucking them. He was now doing this to Flora, as his sperm exploded inside her, then receded, then went off again, each thrust hitting her a little harder and stronger than the last.
He also was helping her release her apparent inhibitions by biting her breasts.
A simple trick, but requiring great dexterity. His mouth was chomping on her right breast, making small circles of love bites around the base of her breast, then moving carefully along the breast until he got to the nipple. There, he placed his entire mouth over it, using his teeth just at the juncture where the nipple protruded from the breast, a most sensitive, rather erogenous spot. As he bit, slowly, delicately, he could feel her body shifting beneath him -- not really beneath, because she was backed up against the wet sand wall in the cove, her body roughly at a 90° angle -- and the hot breath of her Spanish sensuality was tingling his skin.
He moved over to her left breast and, as he did so, he felt her start her first orgasm. A small one, as he could barely feel her pussy muscles twitch; but, in its own way the beginning of something big.
She felt it, too, her liquid loosening itself up and beginning to flow. She felt, though, more than any-thing else, his instrument inside her, touching every part of her sensitive membranes, causing her entire outer skin to tingle with ecstatic excitement. She clamped her long, lovely legs around his waist, to pull him even deeper inside her, as she began really coming in earnest.
Just in time.
His prick was starting to go limp, as she hurriedly got her pussy working. Almost terror-stricken, she clamped her vaginal muscles even harder over his diminishing member, and he struggled to preserve his dwindling erection. Her muscles were doing their job just fine, because he could feel, along with his own efforts, that his prick was again beginning to feel a bit more solid.
Singing a lament, a sensuous Spanish song that he couldn't follow the words to, she was, in effect, rocking him awake, not to sleep. She wouldn't let go, and now, his mouth off her breast, he let her tits bore into his chest and got his mouth clamped against hers. Her tongue got to his first, and she started Frenching him as if her tongue was somehow equal to his cock, trying to fuck him in his mouth as he was doing inside her cunt. He didn't mind at all, as he felt her slurping tongue grinding away inside his mouth, feeling the sweaty eagerness of her dark-skinned Mexican heritage. She wanted her men macho, of that he was sure. And, judging by the way he was getting erect again, and the way he was fighting back with both his tongue and his cock, he was going to be more than macho enough to satisfy this Chicano cunt Flora.
Big Bill braced himself for what was to come ... that is, himself.
With an exultant thrust forward, nearly spearing her against the sand, he fired off another load, fucking her in his usual style. She had an incredibly sensitive cunt, and she could feel him blasting off his load all over her, as if he was screwing her in every particle and pore of her body. For himself, he could feel every drop of sperm that he released, and notice every nuance of her responses, as her thirsty pussy greedily gulped down all the come juice he could thrust into it from his prick.
Slowly, gradually, their orgasms ebbed, their bodies relaxed, they both could now feel the cool water sloshing against their bodies as they began to disengage ...
"Big Bill, are you finished now?"
The voice sounded familiar, but Big Bill couldn't be sure until, craning his neck around, he spotted ... Angela.
She was standing about 20 feet away, wearing a white bikini, a color that could only be considered ironic, in view of the situation.
Flora glanced up, hostility etched into her dark brown eyes, but no embarrassment. She wasn't flustered in the slightest, only angry at being observed by another female without her clothes on. As Big Bill carefully pulled himself off the girl, he reached for a beach robe and handed it to her, also giving her her clothes and suggesting that she get dressed and go on home, as he had some "private business" to take care of. Her Spanish invectives told him only too well what kind of "business" she was sure he was about to become engaged in.
As she walked away, a proud thrust to her buttocks in their direction, Big Bill, casually climbing into his own swim trunks, said, "Hello, Angela, nice to see you again, though I wish you had told me in advance, then I'd be in a better position to greet you."
She smiled, still keeping her hands on hips, as if she were some sort of avenging angel. She had a strange, abstract look in her eyes, as if she had something planned but wasn't quite sure what would be her next move.
"Where is Harry?" Bill asked, seeing she wasn't saying anything further.
"Oh, he's still sleeping it off." His eyes widened slightly, and she explained, "Yes, he's been boozing a lot lately, in. case you didn't know."
"No, I didn't."
"Well, I hardly expected you to. After all, you don't live with him, but I do."
If Big Bill thought he detected a touch of con-tempt or an inflection of boredom in her voice, he said nothing, allowing her to continue.
"Sure, he's getting juiced up almost every day. By the time I come home from work, he's too stoned to make it with me." She laughed; not in humor, but disgust. "Imagine putting away a half-gallon of Gal-lo burgundy almost every day. It makes me sick!"
During her tirade, Big Bill had been thinking, that sounds like opportunity for me, she is ready for some action outside the house, it may be the right time to move in, though I hate to do it to such a decent fellow like Harry ... but I'll do it anyway ... after all, I have my needs too ...
"Come on, Big Bill, grab your surfboard and walk me home, will you?"
His eyes were question marks as he stared at her, and his surprise was not from her words, but her dogmatic, almost demanding, tone of voice. He was about to comment on that, and remind her that he took orders from no one, when she went into a girlish giggle, laughing as she added, "Don't look so uptight, I just want to cook dinner for you. I have to eat before I go to work, so if you want to join me and keep me company, I'd appreciate it, that's all."
Now, he understood, and gave her his toothpaste smile in response, letting his tongue roll around his outer lips as he did. She winked at him, and, feeling a twinge of encouragement inside his trunks, his rod began to respond to her implied invitation, he grabbed his board and followed her to her home.
She led him straight into the bedroom.
However, he quickly discovered that sex was not what she had in mind, at least not for the moment. Instead, she pointed to the still-sleeping form of Harry, his body wrapped tightly inside a sheet as if he was a corpse in a shroud.
"There's the man I live with, still sacked out, and probably whacked out, too," she said, matter-of-factly.
Big Bill nodded in agreement, feeling his rod still rising. He tried to tell it to lay down; again, it seemed not to be listening, and he was beginning to wonder about his fabulous control. Maybe something about Angela was starting to short-circuit his sexual constraints and connections.
When Harry moaned, "Uuuh ... oooh ..."
Angela, as if on cue, pulled the sheet loose from her man.
Harry was sleeping in the nude while Angela was standing in the nude.
She had suddenly stripped within seconds, faster than even Big Bill's experienced eyes could follow. Her proud breasts jutted out, their taut nipples al-most moving by themselves. Big Bill could see her carefully-combed pubic hair, her erect clit, and the pink membranes of her pussy slyly peeking through the thatch of pubic hair, now dampening in front of his eyes.
His eyes roamed over every curvature and angle of her beautiful body, fucking her visually with every movement of those appraising blue orbs.
Harry's eyes, too, were now wide-open.
First, he looked over Angela, taking in all those fine physical attributes he pretty well took for granted. Then, he spotted Big Bill, whose expression was quite unperturbed, quite natural, despite Angela's exposure. Finally, he pointed an accusing finger, not at Big Bill but at Angela, saying, "Have you no shame? Undressing in front of another man? Right in our own bedroom?"
It seems the sight of Angela's deep-tanned, smoothly-naked flesh had sobered Harry up but fast Though, as Big Bill correctly observed, Harry's eye-lids seemed heavy and droopy, and his eyes them-selves were just the slightest degree opaque and blurred.
Angela replied, haughtily, "I was not undressing in front of another man, Harry." Pregnant pause, hardening of her vocal inflections. "There's only one man here right now, in case you didn't know."
Her last comment was making Big Bill slightly edgy, though his facial expression didn't reveal it. He had no desire to become odd-man-out in a domestic quarrel. He was half-tempted to walk right out and let them hassle it out between themselves, but ...
Every time he looked at Angela, her naked body simply wouldn't let go of him, as if his feet were fixed to the floor. He could feel his erection growing steadily, and had given up trying to control it with-out taking a quick, cold shower.
Suddenly ... as if inspired by some music heard only by himself, Harry leaped out of bed, holding the sheet around him like a Roman toga. He began to dance, a shuffling, shambling gait, draping the sheet still in front of his private parts. It was as if he was mocking, making fun of his woman's stripping and dancing, especially in the way he wiggled his ass and shook his chest.
"Harry, are you suggesting that we dance?"
Her tone was brittle and caustic, as she stared coldly at her man and his ass-shaking spectacle.
"Why the fuck not?" Harry replied, a bitter joviality in his voice, as he kept moving, his prick now getting stiff as a blackjack, thrusting itself forward. Its tip was apple-red, and the foreskin was forced back almost to the base.
"Hey, Big Bill, goddam glad you're here!" Harry suddenly shouted, as if noticing the other man for the first time. "You can play disc jockey for us, put on some sounds, all right?" "My old lady and I are going to rehearse our new number for the big, big show tonight ..."
"If you think I'll allow you to go on the same bill with me ..." She shrieked, interrupting him. "... you're full of enough shit to fill up the entire Pacific Ocean!"
"Please!" Big Bill said, reaching for the radio, twisting the dial until he found some wild music. "No domestic quarrels in my presence, if you don't mind."
The music was bright, bouncy, and brassy, and seemed to inspire Harry to whip off the sheet -- revealing his stiff prick and heavy balls -- and start prancing, rather than dancing, around his woman. He was shifting the sheet back and forth in front of his body, as if in demonstration of, "Now you see me, now you don't."
Angela couldn't help but dissolve into raucous laughter.
"Oh, Harry, you look so silly! You couldn't dance if you had ants in your pants!"
"I'll dance my ass off -- and yours, too!" he retorted, as he stripped the sheet away again and started twirling it around his head.
Then, he began an attempted imitation of some of Angela's more sophisticated bump-and-grind routines, banging his ass into the walls a few times and almost tripping on a loose throw rug. Angela, laughing, also started to dance, her sinuous body insinuating itself into question marks and commas, while her man was all periods and exclamation points.
She picked up a pillow, and began to improvise some erotic, exotic routines by the way she held it in front of her stomach, her breasts, her legs. Then, she began to twirl it like a baton and slip it behind her back without letting go.
Big Bill, still standing, still watching, was wondering whether to stay or split. His mind said one thing, his prick another, and neither seemed willing to compromise with the other. His frustration, his being caught, so to speak, in the middle, was giving him a headache, which meant he should leave. On the other hand, the aching, the stiffness in his crotch, indicated that he should stick around and try to stick his dick into Angela.
For the moment, he let inertia rule his decision-making. That is, he stood where he was, fascinated, as always, by Angela's wild gyrations, by the ease with which her body could perform the most complex movements he had ever seen. He could see her with her own stage show; not now, naturally, but, hopefully, sometime in the near future.
At the moment, Harry was doing the bullfighter bit with the bedsheet.
There is an initial part of the bullfight, where some small swords are stuck in the bull's neck and back, just prior to the bullfighter going into his full routine with his long sword. Harry was imitating this particular preliminary, holding his stiff prick in one hand and the bedsheet in the other, trying to grab and stab all in one rushing movement.
But Angela, as well-coordinated as she was, had no trouble ducking his advances. A shift of her buttocks, a thrust of her breasts, or a simple movement of her feet were sufficient to avoid Harry's thrusts. Yet, doggedly, with great determination, he kept up his lurching, jerking movements, apparently trying to fuck his old lady on the run.
To an outsider, say, who might be peeking through the window and glancing at the goings-on, it might seem a silly sight, a kid's game being played for laughs.
But, not to Harry.
And, Harry was pleased to notice, it was having its effects upon Angela, as his instincts had told him it would. The mere sight of his body -- his naked body -- heading in her direction, wang ready for penetration, especially such a familiar body as his, which she'd been making it with for the past year, was of such a familiarity that she felt those liquid stirrings from deep within her pussy, and a few drops of that familiar liquid began to seep out and dampen her excited pubic hairs.
So, just to make things a bit more interesting, she decided to strip for him.
Still moving, she grabbed her terrycloth robe, throwing it over her shoulders and letting it drop behind her like a queen's regal train. As she kept up her dancing, her body movements caused the robe to swirl behind her, first revealing the lovely cheeks of her ass, then concealing. Occasionally, the robe would swirl around her front, right in front of her cunt, again first concealing, then revealing, the center of her attraction.
Big Bill, still standing, was almost sighing, as he let out a few low whistles of appreciation.
He had seen countless erotic displays in his life-time, but nothing before like this. No, nothing as intimate, personal, and arousing. His prick was throbbing like a sore nerve, and his balls were aching as if someone had slugged them. He was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the sheer sexual power that Angela seemed to wield over all men who came in contact with her. He also realized, at that exact moment, that she was a far more complex female than he'd so far given her credit for.
Angela was whipping the robe in front of her, in imitation of Harry's bullfighter bit. She was smiling dreamily, her eyes turning opaque, her breasts filling full and round and her nipples erecting. Harry, on the other hand, was coming more alive, shaking off the sleepy effects of the wine, his eyes glittering with lust, his nerves burning up the wires with one great overwhelming desire, determination to satisfy his sexual drives etched into every line on his face.
Ironically, as Angela could feel herself becoming tired, almost drowsy, from her churning, gyrating exertions -- the driving beat of the music was perhaps draining away her energies faster than she'd expect-ed. Harry, apparently becoming more refreshed, was also, at the same time, becoming more calculating in his movements.
There came a moment when Angela's body did not quite respond as fast as she had expected it to.
That was the moment when Harry struck.
"Got you!" he shouted, as he leaped toward her. Then, straddling the floor like a child riding a hobby horse, he brought his cock straight up from the floor like a submarine torpedoing a ship -- and slammed it right inside his woman's wet cunt.
Startled, she fell forward, rather than backward. Like a corkscrew, he managed to twist and turn his rod until it had slid all the way inside her. Then, throwing his bedsheet around her body, he grabbed her by the shoulders and began to pull her even closer. She was still dancing, moving in slowly-closing circles, but he kept up with her, shifting his haunches on his feet, as the two of them seemed to do a sort of mating dance to the fast, frisky tempo still blaring from the radio.
She could feel him inside her, and her pussy membranes began to go to work, trying to set his prick off. She felt him driving into her, over every pore and nerve fiber of her body; she felt stuffed, as if her cunt had just swallowed a gigantic meal, a garguantan feast. Her movements became even slower, yet still coordinated with the intricate rhythms of the music, as Harry wound the sheet around her so that both of them looked like some consumer goods wrapped and ready to go.
Big Bill could stand it no longer.
Something had to give ... he had to move ...
Quickly, he was behind Angela. He pushed part of the sheet away, so that he could get his arms around her torso and his hands on her boobs. He said, speaking to Harry, "Go to it, Harry, I'll hold her for you."
Angela, feeling Big Bill's tweaking of her tits between his thumb and forefinger, his other fingers massaging her breasts at the base, started to shudder deliciously. She could also feel his erection rubbing at the cheeks of her ass, and this seemed to turn her on even more, causing her to thrust her body for-ward, so that Harry really felt himself probing all of her inner depths. Though, from his particular position, he couldn't see exactly what Big Bill was doing to her.
In Harry's semi-squatting position, he could not, of course, feel Big Bill's knuckles, instead of Angela's tits, so that gambit he didn't notice ( the sheet was helping to conceal that situation, too). As Harry's hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, his concentration was on her cunt, nowhere else.
She was flowing quite freely, and Harry could feel that wonderful expansion and contraction of her vaginal muscles working out on his rod. He kept thrusting, feeling her liquid flowing all over his rod, and pouring out from her pussy to drip down both of their legs. With the sheet still wrapped around both of them, they were perspiring. They both could feel their hair sticking right to the flat of their skulls.
Harry was almost there, engulfed in Angela's exuberant orgasms, ready to add his own sexual eruptions to the general good times, barely conscious of the music still blasting away in the background, panting and grunting and getting ready to do some pumping ...
As Big Bill, no longer able to hold out, was trying desperately to move aside the sheet from Angela's ass, so that he could stick his dick into her sphincter and at least make it in the back door, if he couldn't quite get into the front ...
But, just as Big Bill managed to sweep a section of the sheet aside, aiming his erection at her asshole ...
She moved.
She moved her legs, opening them into an "O" as Big Bill lunged and quickly found himself, not in her sphincter but between her legs, just below her cunt. As this happened, she closed her legs again, and Big Bill's prick was caught and held firmly in that position.
Big Bill almost yelled out loud as he felt his cock being crushed by her thighs. He tried to pull out, but he was too close, he had no leverage, and be-sides, he was still holding on to her tits, and his hands were most reluctant to let go of them, too.
Big Bill came.
He had no choice, really, not with all the pressure of Angela's thighs. He could feel his smooth, circumcised cock blast off in that long, continuous movement he loved, his sperm spurting out and waterfalling into Angela's pubic hairs and down her lovely legs. He shuddered, feeling relief at last, though not what he'd wanted, not the way he'd wanted it. His spasms increased, he gripped her boobs so firmly he could feel that he was leaving definite fingerprints on her flesh, and from the way she was still twisting and turning, he was sure that she was being as erotically satisfied as possible.
Now, Harry was coming.
He was exultant, because he'd slipped it to her just between orgasmic movements, catching her, between bursts. He pumped his juice joyfully into her, hearing her gasp with surprise, feeling her pussy prance into another liquid dance as it tried to meet this new challenge of his coming cock. Those jolting bursts were reaching her, and Harry almost screamed in relief, as his tensions were drained from him and he could lose himself and his prick inside her all-powerful pussy.
Angela seemed to be singing now, as she felt both men driving into her from different directions. Her entire body was writhing like a snake, and she felt as if her skin was going to flake off, her bones disintegrate. All she could feel was cocks and her cunt, and that's exactly what she wanted.
And, Big Bill, despite his misdirection, was starting to smile.
After all, he thought, I was the first one to come, I beat Harry to the draw,, now next time I'm going to beat him in the front door, too ...