Chapter 4
Dinner in the Spencer household was almost formal, in the large dining room under a twinkling chandelier of sterling and crystal. The long table was of wood, and old. Clay asked about it. No, it wasn't something that had been in the family for years; it had once graced a castle in England! Brian Spencer, who sat at the end of the table, said he'd bought it from a certain Lord Grandrith, who needed all the money he could get to pay the prohibitive British taxes on his ancestral estate.
At the end of the long table opposite her husband, sat the tall and regal Alexandra, her jet-black hair sleekly piled on her head to display her long neck and the drop earrings from her pierced ears. Gold and onyx, Clay decided. The rest of her visible self as she sat at table was ivory and onyx: her skin was light, and her dress black velvet. The sleeves were long, the front deeply cut to display a great deal of very rounded, high, and large breasts that Clay McConnel assumed were propped up by a Merry Widow bra.
Next to her, on the left, sat diminutive Melanie, in a skintight orange jumpsuit. Beside her, across from Clay, was her brother, in a denim work shirt decorated with embroidery. He wore gray jeans, and a thick belt with an enormous buckle, a three-prong affair of brass.
The embroidery, Clay was told in the light dinner conversation, had been done by Debbie, the gardener-handyman's little blonde wife.
Between Clay and Brian, on Clay's left, sat Alison, in a white silk blouse and a short skirt of pleated black latex that he thought was rather silly looking; pleated skirts weren't his thing. The little red skirt her sister Monica wore was almost straight, and much more to the liking of their guest. The skirt was latex, worn over hose of the same color and material; her blouse was clingy, multi-colored nylon with big swishy sleeves and tight, four button cuffs. Monica sat beside him, too, on her mother's side.
Throughout most of the meal, Alison used her right hand to stroke, fondle, and pat the fly of Clay's trousers. Inside, his penis, nestled warmly in its latex sheath, grew. It was not a comfortable sensation.
There was an added stimulus. Throughout most of the meal, sort of taking turns with her sister, Monica used her left hand to fondle and pat and stroke Clay's fly.. . .
He was rather surprised that no one asked him how the new shorts felt. Also that Mary, who served them the sumptuous meal, was completely natural, impersonal, cool-particularly for a young woman who had so recently sucked his cock and then bent over to take it up the hot capacious pussy he so well remembered!
Shortly after dinner, Monica mentioned some things she had to do, excused herself, and went up the broad half-turned staircase to her room.
Edmund and Melanie went out, together, a short time later. If they stated their destination, Clay didn't catch it. Not that he cared.
Bringing him a brandy, Alison bent over Clay, who admitted to himself that the full skirt with its many pleats did accentuate her wasp waist. So did the tight-fitting blue turtleneck she wore.
"You're tired," she murmured. "Go up to bed early. Keep the room dark, and quiet, and don't be surprised later when you have company, darling."
He glanced at her parents, who were enjoying the loud harpsichord record a lot more than he was. "Can we get away with it?" he whispered.
"I think so," Alison said archly.
Sure he couldn't be seen, he rubbed one of her extravagantly developed breasts. She sighed.
"Far out," he muttered.
"We will," she breathed, starting to straighten, "have to be absolutely silent about it, darling."
"Can do."
She returned to her seat, and Clay looked over to see Mary in the dining room. She was looking at him, and he knew she'd seen both the secret conversation and the wanderlust of his hand at Alison's tit. Mary winked. Then she returned to the kitchen and made more dishwashing noises.
Clay went up to bed early. He stripped, massaged the rumpled testicles and penis so long encased in warm, paper-thin rubber, and hung away his clothes. The room contained a radio, and he found an FM station that definitely played no harpsichord music. Turning it on low, he slipped in between the tan sheets, which were bordered with the squared off old castle-turret design of ancient Rome. Naked, he turned off the light
There wasn't time for him to drowse off, or even engage in much thinking. His door opened, and by the time he looked that way, she had made her swift entry and closed the door behind her. Seconds later he was joined in the double bed by a lot of tit and leg and latex corset.
"Sh-h-h-hhh," she admonished, giving his chest a brief kiss. Then she began at once giving him a nice massage. It was confined solely to his genitals.
He remembered her admonition to be absolutely silent, and now she had doubled that warning with her firm and drawn-out slushing noise. Clay was absolutely silent. He didn't have to talk, to play with her big, soft tits, anyhow.
Her hand kneaded, and massaged, and squeezed his cock and balls.
His hands squeezed, and kneaded, and massaged the milky contours of her heavy teats.
She loved it. The excitement of that tit-play got to her quickly, and she let him know it. His naked cock-fondler began wriggling her lovely body, naked except for the corset he was accustomed to, in anticipation and arousal while he admired and caressed the luscious, polished flesh of her superb breasts.
"Hu-u-um-m-mmmm," she breathed. Tremors leaped through both the massive panting projections he thrilled with his hands. Her warm fingers pressed firmly, lecherously into the full ripe eggs of his balls and the rising stalk they seemed to be extruding. The big testicles were both sensitive and vibrant in her hands.
A growing glow rocked his belly and tugged at his genitals with a subtle carnal rhythm.
Suddenly squashing her tits against her chest by jamming his palms hard against them, he pressed her back, coming up onto his side. He swung a leg across hers, imprisoning them-and the hand she kept wrapped around his nuts.
He shook the shapely projections of her chest, making each wildly bouncing ball wobble and ripple with tremors.
"I like them just as well all misshapen like this!" he told her in a whisper, and bent his mouth to a surging nipple.
"Ahhhhhh," she sighed, and her hand writhed between his thigh and hers. She began squirming.
He still held her tits. He bounced them a little in his hands, teasing them, making the nipples grate over his teeth.
She shook constantly and her breath became a series of gasps and sighs.
He began sucking. The enraptured woman became a wild, squirming thing as he sucked avidly at the delicious morsel of pantingly tumescent flesh that strained out and out from her breasts in hard erections.
A little biting action made her twitch, almost jumping. She panted fiercely and her hand clutched his balls. His clamping lips worried the rock candy crest of one swollen nipple into ever greater erection, until it contained all of its own luscious corona and was a fat, pulsing hard-on that thrust with imperious arrogance straight out from her strutting breast.
Suddenly she went rigid, trembling.
"Hoo-oo-oo-oo-oooon GG HHHHHHHH!" she sagged limply.
"Hey," he murmured, licking her nipple softly, "I never knew you to come from having these beauties sucked, sweetheart."
She said: "SHHHHHHH!" Holding his cock, her hand tugged.
Clay followed that imperative pull. He moved up onto his knees, fitting easily into the broad wedge of bed, formed when she hurled her thighs wide apart. Still gripping his erection, she pulled it toward the hungry hole in the very junction of those outward straining thighs.
Drawn unerringly to its target by her hot hand, his cock went at her. The deep-red plum tipping it nosed up against the mossy tufts at the base of her corset-held abdomen, parted the silky tendrils that were only a mass of utter blackness in the dark, and discovered the plump lobes that formed the doorway to her cunt.
"Ummmmmm," she sighed, at the feel of his sexual flesh against hers. Her knees rose on either side of him.
He stabbed his swollen organ between the impassioned girl's fleshy labial petals and paused there, teasing her, daring her to beg for the full length of his staff.
She didn't. Releasing the sturdy stave that was now safely beach-headed inside her, she grabbed his hips. And she yanked.
"Gu-u-u-uhhh!" The sound she made came straight from the throat.
Ice ran up his spinal cord. He was in her all the way to the balls, just like that. The squirming brunette acted as if she hadn't balled for a month, rather than this afternoon in the woods, just a few hours ago!
I'm a lucky sunuvabitch to get such a hot-blooded cock-loving slut for my woman! he told himself, and began fucking that hot-blooded cock-loving cunt.
While his hips flailed, he caught her shaking tits. He sank his fingers into the marshmallow masses, making their lissome flesh yield reluctantly as it twitched and quaked.
Beefy prick studded in and out of her, with slushy noises. And up came her hips, surging to meet his skewering lunges into her writhing, silky-walled cunt.
Her inward squeezing produced a hot tingling sensation in the swinging pouch of his balls, strained seedpods feeling ready to burst. She was fucking him back with every inch of her hot young body. The steamy sounds and aroma of sexuality rose about them, pervading the air of the darkened room.
The big balls of her breasts were shaking like jelly. She squirmed her furry genital bulge up against him, and ground it into his. He drove into it, splitting it wide, encunting her hard and deep with powerful pumping surges of his hips.
It occurred to him that they hadn't made it this way before, the way so many people did: silently, and in the dark. He liked it. It was a pleasant change. This way, he could just concentrate on feeling.
And he could concentrate on fucking.
He fucked her deep and hard, probing violently and far into her pulsing slit
His hands slipped beneath her to cup the quivering whiteness of her ass-swells. He gripped them tightly, tugging. Her arms shot responsively up about his neck. She mashed her open mouth up onto his, ramming her smooth, perfectly rounded and massy breasts into his chest. At the same time, she clamped down with her cunt and he groaned at the loving pressure of that wanton crack around his cock's hardened length.
Hunching, bucking, she tightened and rolled the muscular buttocks he held, driving him wild with desire.
His fingers slid over one soft cheek of her shaking ass and into the crack between the cream-sheened mounds. It was tight, hot, sweaty.
The pulsing little ass-hole, when he skewered it with his finger, was even tighter and hotter.
She grunted and gasped at that new pressure, jerking as if in convulsions.
The pungent aroma of sex, of hot united genitals and released deodorant and perspiration, all rose to assail his nostrils in a definite odor of arousal
He ran his finger up the tunnel of her ass and his cock down the molten hollow of her pussy as if trying to unite them within her. Fucking strongly, ramming her ass down onto his hand, he kept her firmly and deeply impaled cock and middle finger.
She squealed aloud. She shivered violently. Her hands clawed at him.
Then the grunting, twitching, young woman cried out, almost fainting in orgasmic joy, when her vaginal depths exploded in incandescent ecstasy.
Her coming body jerked, shuddered, convulsed-and went lump.
With his finger now rammed with ease all the way up her relaxed and dilated ass-hole, he continued stroking his big prong in and out of the contracting well of her cunt. The inner pulsing, the constant squeeze-pull of her vaginal muscles, pumped him rapidly up to the spurting point.
He ran it deep into her, driving for orgasm, filling her cunt with cock at the same time as his finger sank far into her squirming ass-hole.
The hot, wet knob of his glans swatted about inside her wrinkly slit. It soon had her thighs and belly vibrating as new desire seeped through her.
Again and again he sent it sliding down the chute, imbedding the fleshy, emphatically hardened tool utterly in the warm wet tube of her vagina.
Back she came, recovering from the draining weakening effect of her orgasm. She heaved her stomach up against his and he responded by spearing her with finger and rast-hardened cock until she groaned and shook almost violently.
They worked together in a fantastic lustful rhythm that attuned their sweaty bodies beautifully.
Once that had settled into that superbly cooperative metronomic rhythm that way, it seemed to him to go on and on. Swift fragments leaped through his brain as he rocked with her in the darkness: restless squirming, cradle rocking, pungent scent of lust...racing pulses...flexing, driving thigh muscles...nakedly trembling, hunching bodies...sleek, sleek skin like silicone, partially coated and sheathed with smooth, satin-finished latex...constant su-u-up, sh-h-hluu-PPP sounds...the flexing of luscious ass-cheeks in his hands and the squeezing of her ass-hole around his finger...its raking over the sensitive head of his shuttling cock...carnality, pleasure I
"You really...get a lot...of fuckinnng...from a man who's...already come twice...today!" he told her.
She was silent. Straining upward, she licked his lips and tried to use her big tits like spears to stab his chest. Her hips writhed back and forth with sensuous sounds against the sheet, and her crotch pumped up and down, open-mouthed cunt sliding along his cock like a rubber ring on a greased pole.
Then he clutched her, flattened her tits by crushing down on her, as he groaned and stiffened in the final crisis.
His body jerked. One last lunge he made into her slick soft channel. And then he exploded. She cried out as he did, clasping him to her with all her strength.
Vibrant energy radiated from him, jerked his body, and his juices squirted forcefully into her. Noble seed went flowing richly into her lovely vault with his grunting lunges.
He lay a long time on her, held there by her straining arms, holding her, murmuring again and again how good, how good it had been. He felt pride, too; she had come no less than three times.
At last, at long last her arms loosened. Sure he was mashing the very breath from her, he slid from her. Together, they listened to the last sucking wet slurp of his rumpled penis as it emerged from her sperm-filled vagina. Lying still, he stared at absolutely nothing.
He did not move when the bed did. She was getting up.
Then, behind his closed lids, his eyes were aware of a new red-goldness; she had turned the lights on! Groaning, he squinted his eyes tight shut, turned onto his side, opened up carefully, slowly, and looked across the room at her. She stood by the door, wearing a red and black robe.
His eyes went wide and Clay stared.
She smiled. "You're a very good fuck, Clay McConnel. If my husband had balled like that, I'd still be married!" Monica Spencer said, and with a long-distance kiss, she left his room.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered.
He stared at the door.
"Far out," he muttered.
Then, a moment later, "Jesus! Her sister!"