Chapter 1
With his erect cock nestled in the warm, stroking haven of soft female hands, the man groaned.
She slid her hand over the large expanding head and down and down the shaft until she was fondling the hairy purse of sperm-stuffed balls. It was a big cock, thick and lengthy. The balls were big, too, like eggs in their bag covered with soft fur.
"I love your cock," she murmured.
"Umm-I love what you're doing with it!" he said, pulling his lips from around her nipple long enough to make the enthusiastic statement, then going right back to sucking and licking again.
His back arched and he writhed when her palm cupped his balls and her fingers pressed them. That felt so good-and he was sure the pleasure was heightened by the fact that his testicles were so vulnerable, so easily hurt, and the possibility was always there. He didn't want them hurt! But...he supposed there was a bit of masochistic tendency in everyone. He was glad his was buried deep. He wasn't interested in being anyone's victim or slave.
Clay McConnel had had a bitch of a time in the army, because he didn't even take orders well, much less suck and be subservient the way some of those clowns expected, with their stripes or the metal gleaming on their shoulders.
"I like these, too," she said, letting her hand absorb and radiate the swollen heat of his nuts. "No I don't-I love them!"
"Gmmmmm," he said. He pressed himself against the ripe curves of her tensing thighs as he nursed greedily on the thick, stubby bull's-eye of her more than enticing breast.
"Ummmm," she responded, almost echoing him. "Oh that's so nice...boy I'm glad you like my breast!"
He squeezed the one he was sucking and tugged so hard at it with his mouth, he seemed to be trying to suck the stiff fleshy peak down his throat.
She slid her hand up and down the shank of his penis, definitely fascinated with it. "Umm-mmm. Oh Clay-y...was I wicked to come over here tonight without a bra, so you could do this?"
"Not wicked," he told her. "Smart. If you hadn't, I'd have torn this little blouse the rest of the way off."
"The rest of the way?" she asked, with a giggle in her voice. She looked dotingly down on the top of his head.
"Well-there ain't a hell of a lot of it to begin with," he said, moving his lips against her stiff tittytip, making it wiggle like a thick directional antenna.
It was true; the blouse was poorboy-styled, with a deeply scooped neckline. Or rather, bust-line. Tit-line. The breast he was pressing so fondly and sucking with such loving, titillating avidity, he had scooped forth...she still wore her blouse. And her belted, bell-bottomed pants, which were a slightly lighter purple than the blouse-which was more like a tee shirt, really, though it was of knitted nylon.
Clay McConnel sighed around the warm titty to which he was paying his respects. Tonight, he thought. Tonight...she comes out of her damned clothes at last. God but I want in this woman!
She was Alison Spencer, and this was their fourth date. It seemed that they'd known each other a lot longer, though. The first time he met her, through one coincidence and one accident, they had talked well over an hour, unaware of anyone else in the coffee shop. Both had been anxious to continue that conversation. like him, she was a fan of science fiction, loved John Norman's Gor series. like him again, she was a definite believer in territoriality and inherent traits as opposed to the views of the pure-environment behaviorists who were currently swaying the minds of so many with their unfortunate errors.
Alison was pretty, a girl with big pushy breasts and an extraordinarily tiny waist. That was nice. Nicer was the combination: in addition to her carnally intriguing body, she had a mind, and in working condition at that.
That same night of their first meeting, they got together again. They did nothing but talk for six solid hours. With a girl who looked the way she did, that was fantastic. Never had he met anyone he liked so much and was so comfortable with!
On their second night together she was more than ready to wind up their conversation with kissing and petting. To have her big breasts mauled, and she made lovely turned-on noises. But-she would not have her clothing opened. Disappointed, he went along. He was no rapist. Besides, he liked her. He didn't know-or rather hadn't known that such a thing existed, but: he had an idea he was falling in love.
Clay was delighted to discover that Alison was happy to handle his penis, to jack him lovingly off-and to be diddled, too; finger-fucked. Hers was the hottest pussy he'd ever touched.
He did a lot more than touch that soft, wet, hot-pussy.
The same thing happened twice more. No way she'd even allow her clothes to be so much as opened.
Now, on their fifth date, here at his apartment, she had at last come up with a solution. She had worn the deeply-scooped blouse, and no brassiere. And he had a handful-and overflowing-and a mouthful of fine large Alison Spencer tit.
Naturally, it wasn't enough.
"It's so hard" she said, squeezing his cock strongly and noting that it hardly yielded to the pressure of her fingers. "And yet so satiny soft. The skin...umm! I just LOVE it!"
Slowly, very slowly she wanked and frigged it, with a relentless but carefully gentle ardor. The delighted young woman felt him begin to shiver and rock and suck hard at her breast as she gently jacked him, tugging the loose, circumcised foreskin up and down over the shining glans and then allowing her sweaty fist to glide back down the hard, rigid male length.
She smiled happily. Even rigidly erect like this, it was just deliciously tender and vulnerable in her caressive grasp.
Abruptly he came jerkily up from her wettened breast and grabbed her the old Gable way, surrounding her with his arms. His tongue moved on an aggressively probing expedition into the liquid warmth of her mouth. His breath came fast and hard, and his nostrils flared. He kissed her strongly, moving his mouth, crushing her lips.
His brain was practically spinning. God, but he wanted her! He wanted to rape and ravish, without letup, every entry into her jerking, squirming body. The object would be to break her, to make her regret her keep-away attitude, to make her forget who she was and where she was and the very why of her existence.
A bundle of throbbing energy grew extravagantly between his legs, where his genitals lay outside his shorts, which had long ago become stuffed to the bursting point. His balls tensed, ached with the need to be freed of their imprisoned load, to blow loose into the voluptuously ripe form pressed so firmly against him.
With one hand he grasped her crotch, hard. She moaned into his mouth. Her trousered legs parted more. Willingly, she yielded up her soft hot pussy-so long as it remained clothed!
His hand slid up to the opening of her pants. Immediately he felt her back tense, and Alison's hand came to his, covered it, pressed it to her but away from the fastening of her bell-bottoms. Damn! This was the way it had been when he was thirteen, and all he'd wanted was a feel of some tit, but the so uptight owners of those intriguing bumps had nearly always got hold of his hand and moved it firmly elsewhere.
He seethed. He felt his pulse beating hard in his head, knew he'd have a headache if she jacked him off even twice or three times. He was going to fucking well blow fucking up!
With a jerk he parted their mouths. She looked at him, a little bewildered.
"God damn it, what IS this, keep away? I can't-I'm going out of my damned-we can't just keep on this way, damn it!"
Her lip trembled and her eyes went all stricken. "Oh Clay-can't we just-"
"NO!" he exploded, and Clay McConnel did what he never thought he would. Lust-driven, his mind in the control of his balls, he went into something approaching the old berserker rage of the super warriors of another time. But, it wasn't ten or twenty heads he was driven to strike off with his sword or ax.
No-his hand just shot up, out, grabbed the front of her blouse, right between the bared breast and the one still inside. He yanked, hard, while his other hand pressed her back against his couch.
She lurched forward with a groan; he pushed her back, yanked again.
The scoop-neck purple blouse tore jaggedly, down past her waist. Both her tits, pale as though they'd never seen the sun and firm and outstanding as though they defied their own size, came spilling floppily free...and stayed up and out.
The berserk rage left him as he stared. Not at her tits-at what else he had revealed in his destruction of her blouse.
A tear slipped out of her left eye and slipped unsteadily down her cheek.
He had never seen such an undergarment as this woman wore. Black, shiny like leather, it encased her body from just beneath her breasts all the way down-and vanished into her waistband.
He put forth a hand to touch the corset. It was cool, totally smooth and soft to the touch, like the petal of a rose. like leather. But it was not leather.
She made a whimpering sound. Her shoulders sagged, and those irrepressibly upstanding tits drooped a little, like unwatered flowers. Now she made no effort to stay his hand, as he opened her pants. A bit roughly, he forced her back onto the couch so that he could slide her purple pants under her ass and well down her thighs-which were beautiful.
"What is it? I mean-what's it made of?" The thing was a corset, not a girdle. It began well up on her rib cage, just at the bases of her tits, and held her like a vise, and encased her, all the way down to her crotch hair.
"L...latex," she mumbled, softly sobbing.
Wondering how it had been got on so tightly, he turned her-treating her like a child, or a slave, or more properly what she had become: a resigned, willingly malleable package that he was welcome to undress, twist, turn, examine, with quivery hands and staring eyes.
"Jesus!"
In back, the corset of shining black vinyl laced, all the way. Rawhide thongs were crisscrossed, drawn through twenty grommeted holes. The ends of the lacing were tied in many knots. She could not have done it. Someone had put this thing around her, from behind, and laced it up, and then tightened those laces-and then tightened them again, surely-and tied them, knotted the laces, again and again and again.
He touched it-her. His finger slid down the slicky smooth stuff, following the deeply indented outline of her waist. Latex, she said. Yes. But it certainly wasn't like any raincoat he'd ever seen or touched!
"Alison? Tell me about this."
"I...I...now you know-no n-now you kn-know why I didn't w-want you to take off my clothes!"
"Yeah. Tell me about it."
"Tell...you what?"
"Just tell me about it, damn it!"
"I-I'm not allowed to take it off...."
"ALLOWED!"
She sniffed. "Um-hm, allowed," she said, twitching with a little sob. "My-my parents...it's part of my figure training. That's why I go home every Wednesday and Sunday."
She was a college senior. Clay worked in an insurance office.
"Every Wed-you mean that you wear this from Monday morning to Wednesday night, without taking it off, and then from Thursday to Sunday?"
She whispered: "Yes."
"Jesus." Again, he let his fingers trace over the garment-it was so soft, so slickly smooth, so sensuous ! "It doesn't...bother you?"
"Not much. I'm used to it."
"But you have to sleep in it...used to it?"
"Um-hmm." She would not look at him.
Far, he thought, fuckin' out! He shook his head, staring, feeling. Why was it a woman was so incredibly damned fuckin' sexy in something like this, all constricting, nipping her in the way the Victorian women were in their wasp-waists, the stuff so black and shining and sexy in contrast with her skin, making her look so pale, so sweet and-sexy! Far fucking out, he mused again. His hands couldn't stop moving over it, moving over her, in it.
"Even when you sleep . .
"like you said. From Sunday morning...unless I come back Saturday night...until Wednesday night when I go up home again, and then from Thursday morning till Sunday again.
"And you didn't want me to know about it.
That's why you've always kept your clothes so...virginal. That's why you left off a bra and wore this blouse tonight-so I could get at you, a little, without hassling you about your clothes."
"Yes!"
"Training...your...figure." He shook his head. Far fuckin' OUT! "And...boy has it done the job. Al-Alison...what is your figure? Aside from absolutely great, I mean."
She still would not look at him. She was limp, as if defeated, beaten, terribly humiliated. "I...you mean...measurements? Oh that's so silly ll mean-those endless girls in Playboy, with the measurements duly given...like a litany, nearly always the same, and all the other magazines following along like dogs after a bitch, pantingly putting down the measurements of each girl. Besides, they never-"
"It must be important to the Spencer family," he pointed out, "since they put this fantastic corset on you for figure training!" He continued stroking it. It warmed up, under his hands. "Oh-sorry. I interrupted-"
"I was going to s-say...and they never give the cup size-all the other part does is tell whether a girl's thick in the ribs and broad across the back!'
Hmm, he thought, she is proud of her figure. She knows she's got absolutely great tits...and she's proud of 'em, and whatever cup size she takes I
He said, "True. What are your measurements, Alison? I mean, I can see this thing nips in your waist to something fantastic-"
Alison heaved a sigh; he saw the light reflections change on the surface of the vinyl sheath, as her ribs expanded beneath it. A little I
"Forty," she said, "Forty...twenty...thirty-seven."
"KeeRIST! Ten inches difference between bust and waist is supposed to be such a big deal, the perfect figure-and you're TWENTY inches different!"
A whisper: "Yes."
"Wow! Oh-you mentioned cup size." At last dragging his hand-one of them-away from her latex-sheathed torso, he cupped one lovely warm breast. "C?"
"Forty-B," she said, "They...look bigger, because my waist is so tiny."
"They sure do!" he said, with an appreciative laugh.
"I know," she said in a tiny, resigned voice. "It's...isn't it ridiculous?"
"RIDICULOUS!" He jerked as if kicked, then twisted around, lifted a hand to cup her chin and force her face up. Her wet eyes, all sad and mournful, met his with reluctance.
"Ridicidous!" he repeated, in that same incredulous tone. "Oh honey-you're beautiful! I love it! You're-you're the sexiest, this is the sexiest thing I ever saw!"
She blinked. "You mean...you mean you actually like me in this teeny corset Mom and Dad make me wear?"
"-like you-I love it."
"You-you're not put off by it? Really."
"Alison-would you mind just inspecting my cock?"
She looked down. Her mouth rounded, as did her eyes. If it was possible, he had a bigger erection now than he had ten minutes ago. It hadn't just stayed; the big stalk had swelled, turning dark, almost mauve in its deep-purplish, blood pulsing pink.
"Oh-h-h-h," she said, cooing, and her hand went immediately to that beautiful joystick.
"I love it, Alison," he repeated.
She broke forth in such a sunny smile that he could almost believe she'd been faking her tearfulness. "Um-m-m-mmm. Oh Clay...you...you're hurting my nipples, Clay. And...I LOVE it!"
"Good. You're going to love this big cock in you, too." He had taken over. He wasn't about to back up or cease pushing. His hands moved over her breasts, squeezing and cupping and tenderly fondling, and then slid down, too, to gain frequent feels of that super sexy latex "skin."
Her hand tightened convulsively about his prick. "Oh Clay! YES! I'm already just hung up on this outsize machine of yours! It's just fantastic ! I've wanted it in me since I first saw, that very first time, what a package it made in your pants!"
He grinned joyfully. "Well-get those pants the rest of the way off and get ready to be stuffed, Miss Super sexy!"
She flashed him a huge smile. Her hands yanked off the rest of her clothes-except that black, shining second skin-as if she were in an undressing contest. "I like that kind of talk, Mister Super sexy! And you'd better get undressed, too, and fast. Give it to me, oh yes give it to me-from behind Clay, from behind!"
Up went his eyebrows, climbing as if to an invasion of his hairline, when she slipped off the couch and hit her hands and knees on the floor. He stared at the shining rounds of her upturned ass-cheeks, at the way tufts of pubic hair showed through between her parted thighs.
Clay got out of his clothes as if he were in an undressing contest.
The kneeling girl steadied herself with her palms against the rug, spreading her legs further apart and thrusting her sassy buttocks upward invitingly. The doll with the fantastic measurements was bent so that the halves of her rump, her pushily delectable ass, were parted to reveal the cavity of her anus at the bottom center of the deep, heat-radiant division.
Below that, her parted cunt waited hungrily.
The fires of lust were about to burn his balls off, he was sure. Better make use of them fast while he had 'em! His knees thudded to the floor behind her.
Leaning into the smooth white bubbles of her ass, he tucked in his own buttocks and let inch after inch of lustily inflated cock run up into her pussy.
Keeping it slow, he savored the caress of membranous vaginal walls along the sensitive column he buried in her-and the caress of her latex hands under his stroking fingers.
"Damnation," he groaned fervently, "but your pussy feels good!"
She was past words. "Um-m-m-m-m-mmmmmm !"
The kneeling girl pressed back to impale herself on his hard-on. As if her delighted purr hadn't been enough; he didn't need words when she made sex-pleased sounds like that, and gorged her pussy on his cock!
He hunched her sexy, jiggling ass, digging into her.
"Oooooooh," she moaned, shuddering. "Fuck me forever, ForEVER!! "
He pumped hard, fast, smacking her ass with his loins, bent forward over her upturned ass so he could keep his hands on that exciting slick latex-sheathed waist that was so tiny it was hardly a waist. Each had jolt against the juddering fine roundness of her ass smacked the tensing globes and stuck her deep up the vagina to wrench deep moans from her.
Dangling from her bent, kneeling body, big globular breasts became heavy ovals that tugged relentlessly at her chest. She knelt mewing, feeling that delicious friction within her body, way up her pussy, feeling the heavy thud-thud of his cock as it beat within her with the pounding of his pulse, the hard slaps of his lower belly and crotch against the luscious white meat of her silky rear ovals.
"Good, Good! YES! Pound my ass!" Happily he pounded her ass, felt the oiled silk sheath of her cunt clasping and stroking his cock, felt its powerful muscles clenching in a hot crushing pressure all around his rigid bone.
He was writhing against the perfect curves of her rump in an accelerating tide of sensual desire and soaring pleasure. Those flames of passion still flickered in his hotly swollen balls, as he hung onto her squirmy assglobes and probed her cunt in riotous, burning need and bliss.
Into her comforting female flesh he funneled, dog-fucking, nuzzling up inside her warm and welcoming belly. His hands went rushing around her, the silky, sexy latex brushing his arms. He grabbed her dangling tits. "Oh!"
He lifted the bosomy masses, twisted them, fingers sinking into pliant flesh-as his cock sank into pliant wet flesh.
"HUH-oh-h-hh!"
His nails dug in, and she groaned and squirmed-which action circled her clasping pussy all around the wedging stalk of his meat. Vibrantly insistent, his hands twisted those opulent knockers and rearranged their satiny conformations.
"Ow...oh...OH-uh, oh baby...." She quivered in accelerated lust and tried to womb herself by cramming back onto his cock.
The latex-sheathed, quivering, so white body was shaken by shooting little tingles of pain and wanton lust. His cock sank very deep.
The passion-driven man fucked her hard and worried the love-swollen balls of her tits until they were masses of agony-and lustful excitement.
"I LOVE THAT!" she squealed.
He squeezed. "You love what?"
"That! Everything! YOU! Fucking-your cock in me, your hands, mean and hard, hurting my tits, all of it-that's what my breasts are for, I know it!"
He snapped his body back and forth, plumbing her pussy and finding it deep enough. "You might get an argument from some doctors and sexist females, honey, but not from me!"
The slap-slap sounds of his body whacking her upturned ass rose in the room, filled its air along with her grunts and groans and his gasps, and the intensifying aroma of sexuality, streaking cock and slapping, swinging balls spattering the backs of her thighs and the fronts of his with the hot slippery sap from inside her.
His hands left her tits and the dangling projectiles slapped sweatily together beneath her and speared forth their swollen nipples. Now he was gripping her ass, pulling the cheeks apart, staring down the great divide to see his cock going in and out of her fur-mouthed cunt.
She groaned. Long torpedo shapes that tugged at her chest, her breasts swung and shimmied wildly beneath her bowed body. Without his hands, they felt chilly as the sweat on them was hit by the air. Striving with all her might, she squeezed her cuntal muscles salaciously, like a hot loving mouth around the heavy, almost vicious strokes of his thick fleshy penis.
"Oh darling! Love it-love that cock!"
"You like it? I'll let you wear it sometime."
"Uh! HOOOgh! I-I'm wearing it now-all the way up to the heart, I think! Man you've got plenty for a girl!"
She shifted slightly; balanced on both knees and one hand, she slipped her other arm back under her bowed body. Her seeking fingers found the sweetly protective pubic curls adorning her cunt. The hair riffled a little with the wind of his rapidly shuttling cock. She slipped her own fingertips into that lovely soft squirrel, to the soft pulpy lips that were forced wide open by his massive erection.
The kneeling girl winced and emitted a groan when her fingers touched their goal. A throbbing little button of quivery flesh, her clit vibrated busily. Her touch on its tiny head sent liquid heat boiling back through her cunt and into her belly.
She began wiggling the tip of her middle finger against the tip of her clitoris, rapidly. Just beneath, hard fleshy thickness burned in her weeping hole, violently stretching its prim muscles and ever threatening to womb her with its large swollen head.
"Ah," he groaned. "God...damn...baby...I could fuck you forever!"
"Do," she invited.
He laughed. "Alison?"
"Hmmm?"
"Twiddle your clitoris."
"I already am."
He slapped her ass. "Wicked wench! Without permission?"
She giggled. "I was afraid my master might not think about it."
'Tour master?"
"My master."
He drove powerfully. Mighty cock pounded in and out of her and challenged the capacity of her succulent and hungry cuntal cleft.
"Who," he gasped, hanging onto her buttocks and trying to pierce the rear wall of her pussy, "is your master, woman?"
"My master is in me!"
He laughed aloud, in sheer joy. And his body slapped hell out of her naked, firm ass.
She fingered her twitchy clitoris. Her mouth wouldn't close. Her eyes glazed. Voluptuous rapture became a passionate frenzy.
"C...Cl-C-Cla-Master."
"Hmmm?"
"Please stuff me. Hard-har-r-r-rd. Pl-please...grab my titties...p-pinch my nip-pies...I-I-I'm going to c.. . "
Grinning hugely, he shoved in deep and hard, and bent over her back. Again his arms and hands slid over silky smooth latex, and his hands closed on her dangling breasts.
She cried out when he grasped each impudent extrusion of nipple.
But she hissed, "Yes-s-s! Squeeze! I'm-m...going to...c"
His fingers and thumbs tightened on the berries centered in her luscious titflesh. He squeezed as she asked, and as he was happy and delighted to do, then pulled hard enough so that he seemed trying to rip them off.
Hugely swollen, his cock stayed up her. It throbbed, hard, and she could feel it. Frantically she worked her clitoris.
Rather amazed, he was squeezing with all his might.
Then sweat poured from her contracting, writhing wet skin in an orgasm of exquisite, dazzling agony.
Lightning flashed and seared her eyeballs. A blinding nova erupted before them. No-behind them. Within her head. Her pussy blew up. Her entire passion-gripped body was locked in a sudden extreme orgasmic frenzy of twisting and shuddering.
Locked to her, vised inside her, he fell to the floor with her. He lay atop her sprawled, weakly prone form and pounded her jiggling ass-cheeks in his violent driving of his cock in and out of her hot, streaming, orgasm-squeezing cunt.
"Ohhhh," she moaned. Her cheek was against the rug her hair on the bare floor. "So good. So-o-o good. Pound me. Fuck me. I came so-o good."
She had, he realized, as he fucked and fucked, damned glad that he had hoped for this and jacked off today at noon. Yes, she'd come big; her voice was like someone's who was just coming out from under anesthesia.
He ground down on her. Squirmed, mashing her into the rug and the unyielding floor beneath.
Dug in his toes and tried to root up through her cervix. Lifted himself on his hands, and slapped hell out of her ass with his hips, his crotch, his lower belly, while his glistening, aching, wildly-jerking male member dug up her pussy, slammed and streaked in and out of her.
"Take...this!" he gasped out, between clenched teeth. Going stiff, he skewered in and held it there, while he erupted into her in spurt after splashing stingingly shot spurt.
He lay atop her back, her buttocks lovely pillows under his loins, and the latex corset so-o soft and smooth against his belly, his chest, his arms.
On top of everything else that makes me crazy about this woman, he thought in elation, she's a great wriggly, gasping, groaning, squealing fuck, and she comes Big I
"Ummm...how I love your cock, darling," she sighed rapturously. Lying on his floor on her stomach, she put back a hand to rub his ass with caressive fondness.
And she loves cock! Clay McConnel mentally added, just as rapturous as she prone woman he lay upon.
When he at last rolled from atop her, he lay on his back just beside the girl. She sat up immediately, bent far forward from the sitting position in a supple motion he didn't know the corset would allow, and pressed a loving kiss on his cock.
"Ummmm," he sighed languourously. She gave his depleted penis a long doting lick.
"Ah-ummmmm," he sighed again.
"Love it, love it, love it!" she exclaimed, and stuffed her face with limp penis.
It did not long remain that way.
"Boy," she enthused, drawing her mouth languidly back off his new erection, "do you get up fast?"
"Funny," he said, "I never did this fast before...."
She giggled. "Oh you darling!" And she lunged to lie alongside him and press his lips warmly with hers. Her hand, meanwhile, fondled the new erection she had created.
Then she surprised him. She got up and went to her purse. He lay where he was, on his back with a hard-on running straight up his belly, and watched her.
"I love the way you look in that thing!" he told her.
She turned back to him with a bright smile-and a tape measure. "I'm glad. Oh I'm glad! And the way it feels?"
"Love that, too. What's with the tape?"
She showed him. She measured his hard-on. "You're really big, Clay," she said, going about her self-appointed task in manner business-like. "Vm-hmmml A tad over nine inches in length. Thought so. And...oh yes, wow! It's the thickness a woman really feels, spreading her open inside. Oh yes, this is better still-you're nearly seven inches around, man-home runs have been hit with smaller bats. That's...let's see...ah...nearly three inches in diameter! Whew!" She bent to kiss the object of her enthusiastic acclaim. "Oh," she murmured, "Mother would LOVE this!"