Chapter 8
That night, after dinner, Clay and the Spencers played poker-all but Melanie, who was out on a date. Clay lost a dollar and eighty-five cents.
"Good," Brian beamed, raking in his winnings. "This hotel hereby charges you a buck eighty-five for room and board, Clay."
Clay grinned. "OK. Having paid, I think TA like to join you for another drink."
They had that drink, while the others wended off bedward-maybe. Who, Clay mused, could ever be sure who was going to bed around this place-and with whom? He and Brian had a little talk, but there was no hair-raising questioning about Clay's finances or future, none at all. They did talk quite a bit about latex, and the business, and the country, and how in hell it was possible to have inflation and depression simultaneously ("Because Arthur Burns," Brian Spencer said, "does not know his posterior from an excavation. He'd have made a fine king...in about Ten B.C.")
They parted company, and Clay, who had showered before dinner and washed the essence of two women and two men-including himself-off his genitals, now merely stripped and crawled into bed.
He wasn't sleepy. Excitement was too high. It would be just too much-or rather, not enough-if there wasn't some kinky sexual activity around the old nuthouse tonight!
He was not disappointed. Again, he had a surreptitious nocturnal visitor, which is to say that a naked lady joined him in bed about a half-hour after he entered it
"All right," he said, as his bed was mounted in the darkness by a nigh-invisible body, "who is it this time?"
"You were expecting maybe Madame de Pompadour?"
It was Alison. She came nakedly against him, and he had kissed and been kissed, fondled and been fondled for eight or ten minutes before he realized.
"Hey!" He moved his hands over naked flesh. "You-you're nekkid!"
"It's the only way to fly," she murmured, nuzzling his nipple.
"I mean-I'm actually feeling your waist. You've got skin! You're not wearing your corset!"
She giggled. "I noticed that, too. Mother took it off, and I've just had a thorough sponging. Feels good."
"Wow! I've never even seen you totally naked!"
"Permission is hereby granted," she said, "to feel all you want. Urn mm m mm. Yeah, there, too, man!"
"Skin's just as soft as that latex," he announced, caressing her denuded waist and back with both hands. "God-I want to see!"
She giggled again. "Actually I am very fat."
"I'll be damned!" The evidence of his hands was to the contrary, way over to the contrary.
"Anyhow-would you mind seeing another time?" she asked softly, cupping his balls and handling them fondly. She was moving downward.
"Uh...umm. Oh. Ahhhhh. Yeah-another time-oh baby, that's good!"
"Darling, I want you to be done, and that's all. Will you keep your hands at your sides and be absolutely still?" Her wet wriggly tongue passed over the head of his cock.
"Uh...the question isn't will I, but CAN I, with that kind of stuff going on."
"Going down," she corrected, licking and fondling. "You've got to get with it. Havent you noticed that people are saying "Whass goin' down' these days, instead of 'What's goin' on?'"
"Uh...yeah. But...I know what's going down. Or rather who."
In the darkness that made her totally invisible, she giggled and shoved her mouth halfway down his cock. In a long, lingering glide, she slid her soft ovaled lip-sheath back up the tumid stalk. Her mouth came off with a sucking pop sound.
"All right, smarty," she said, "have it your way then. Now-do I get to do this my way? Will you be absolutely still? I want you to just be done, Clay. Without touching me, or anything; just lie there and enjoy."
"I promise."
She tickled his ass-hole. "Lift your legs, sweetheart.. . "
He brought his knees up and his eyelids down; he couldn't see anything anyhow. If he was to lie here and be pure object, he might as well shut out everything and concentrate on pure tactile sensation. Be nice if I could be deaf for a few minutes, he thought, then grunted and twitched.
After quite a bit of moving around down at the end of the bed, the darting, flicking wet softness of a tongue began teasing and titillating the crown of his burgeoning penis. Keeping his hands still, quivering a little at the wonderful feeling of loving, licking, lapping tongue on his appreciative organ, he lay there and thought about Alison's tits.
The sweetly ardent tongue lapped his cock, and he thought about Melanie's ass.
Prehensile tongue flashed over the silky surface of his cockhead, and he groaned aloud. Wet lips nuzzled brazenly, and he thought about the lasciviously fascinating, tied up package of Debbie. And his cock up her wet slurpy vagina.
Long wet tongue stabbed lecherously at his balls, making him grunt while they licked over the swollen flesh-pouch.
He thought about nothing but Alison's mouth. "God DAMN! Oh baby that's GOOD!" he cried enthusiastically into the darkness. His hands moved, but not to his loving cock-licker. He began messing around with his own nipples.
Slowly, with torturous lack of hurry, widely ovaled lips began slipping down over the huge bulbous knob tipping his cock, down and down the long thick vein-pulsing shaft. He trembled and grabbed his chest with both hands; this was the longest, most exciting entry of his cock into a mouth that he had ever experienced. She was turned on and anxious to see only to his pleasure tonight.
Maybe site's a little nervous, the supine man thought, and grinned into the darkness. Maybe she's had reports by now-and knows how happy both her sisters, her mother, her maid, and her, uh, tenant are with that thing between my legs she calls a baseball bat I
Male ego soared. Male cock was sweetly, beautifully sucked. Up and down, with tantalizing patient slowness, glided that wet lip-furling cock-sucking mouth. He groaned aloud in carnal ecstasy. The steady bobbing of that busy head and the soft sucking sensations were moving him toward a helpless erotic frenzy.
"Christ you're good I Oh, oh darling! Oh shit-I'm going to come like a-an antiaircraft gun!"
The cock-loving mouth that fed on his prick and fed his enthusiasm was busy, and stuffed full anyhow, and made no reply.
His ass writhed sensually, helplessly. The tendons corded along the inner surfaces of his thighs. He began moving helplessly, shoving his joint into wet wide-split mouth, splaying soft supple lips. Helplessly, though he had little leverage lying this way on his back, he pushed with his lust-drenched loins, swiveling his hips to gorge cocksucking face on the entire length of his penis, a swollen rod of fleshy throbbing rigidity.
The stepping up of the powerful oral suction brought a groan jerking up from his throat and he slapped his hands down to grab the sheet. Fingertips prodded coaxingly at his testicles. They blew up. Groaning and gasping, he sent what felt like a gallon of come spewing up wriggly tongue and down steadily swallowing throat.
Then he sagged, trying to let the mattress swallow him, spent and happy and gasping.
Clay squinched his eyes tight shut when the lights came on, but as soon as he cracked them, he opened wide and stared.
On the foot of the bed, between his widespread legs and still licking his lips, was Sexton! Clay's staring gaze went from the man to Alison, who stood, beautifully naked and white and tiny-waisted, by the light switch.
"I'm glad you liked it and were so vociferous about liking it, darling," Alison said, ambling nakedly back to the bed. "Both Daddy and Edmund have said that Sexton gives better head than any of us."
Clay's mouth opened but he said nothing.
Alison only smiled. Clay didn't know whether to be pissed or silent, grateful or angry at having been tricked. There was no way he could deny his enjoyment of being sucked off by the butler-he'd said it was great, loud and clear! If he made any noises now to the contrary, he'd come off as a bigot.
How can being heterosexual be bigotry! he demanded of himself.
And he answered just as silently: If you blow your dummy stack now and let'em know you're horrified because it was a man's mouth on your dick, that's how. You'd never have allowed it, had you been able to see. As it is...Clay my boy, Sexton dug it and so did you !
"Beg pardon, sir," the naked butler said, kneeling up so that the pink hard-on bobbed around before his skinny body. "But I am in dire need of relief!"
Clay didn't quite chuckle. But he kept his voice from sounding angry, which he thought was quite an accomplishment. "Well, don't look at me, Sexton, I'm afraid cocksucking isn't my bag!"
Standing over both men, Alison touched the butler on his bony shoulder. "Come along, Sexton, relief is just around the corner."
Clay bit his lip and dragged his gaze away from Sexton's mouth. The damned thing didn't look sweet and soft!
Sexton started to back off the bed. And there stood Alison, Clay's woman, all ready to take the butler off and get him off. Clay's brain worked madly. A lot of relays had clicked over in there in the past few days. His sexual education had doubled, trebled, quintupled. He had accepted one new revelation and situation after another. He was smugly proud of the way he had been so cool and walked in to join Alison and her mother, last night.
Sexton stood up. Alison smiled down at his prick. Both of them turned. Clay stared at the tiny male butt atop its skinny thighs, at the beautiful rounded white ass beside it, on Alison's superbly round thighs, like a couple of columns of marble coated with white silk.
They were going to go somewhere else, and fuck.
The dam' skinny butler, Clay thought trembling, had sucked him off, and now he was going to go off and ball Clay's woman. It was the way of the Spencers. All into one and one into all. Father and mother, son and three daughters, maid and butler, and, Clay supposed, gardener and wife. All ten of them. The ten musketeers. And...Clay McConnel. The Outsider.
These goddam fuckin' people are Crazy!
Another part of his brain replied: Maybe. They also have a lot of fun. They make ole Giacomo Casanova look like an uptight Victorian!
Alison and Sexton started toward the door.
Another relay clicked over inside Clay's head, and his brain shot forward in a new gear. He jerked himself up into a sitting position.
"Hey, you two!"
Sexton and Alison froze, slowly turned to look back at the naked man on the bed.
"Wait a minute!" Clay snapped. His eyes glittered. He licked his lips. "Come back here. Stay right here. Go ahead, you two...while I watch my future bride get herself fucked!"
With a joyous, sunshiny smile and a little throaty cry, Alison came running back to him. Her arms whipped around him as she plopped down on the side of the bed.
"Oh darling! Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. I want to see."
"Ummmm!" She pressed her nakedness strongly against him, straining to him, kissing and pressing hard. He felt very proud. And a mite crazy.
Crazy or not, Clayton McConnel was soon seated in a chair, idly messing with his own limp pecker, while he watched the woman he planned to marry get cunt-stuffed by the family's long, skinny, old butler.
And it was fascinating. Titillating. Marvelously obscene. Surely evil. Completely amoral.
Also fun, and sexy as all hell.
Under the lightweight man, Alison had a great deal more freedom of movement. The consummately nubile brunette twitched and hunched and lurched, back and forth and sideways.
Gripping each other tightly, deeply hollowing, Sexton's buttocks rose and fell, rose and fell. She moved too, rocking him in the cozy cradle of her loins, his body looking frail to the watching Clay as the butler was ensconced in the white meat of the girl's thighs, while he sank his lust-dilated bat in deep to churn her juices.
They flowed and flowed. Clay was able to see that. He could see Sexton's long, pendulous balls slapping in it, too, and slapping at the very bottom curves of the woman's partially upturned ass-cheeks.
The horny servant's body wallowed happily over that white and baby-pink skin with stormy lustful force. Clay watched thighs like soft lithe velvet rise on either side of the humping man, watched her feet thrust down on those tiny buttocks, trying to force him deeper into her. He watched while the other man rose and fell hard, socking his cock in and out of the far younger woman's scalding clutch with all his might. His ass wiggled, two little oval pads perched between his long narrow back and long shank-like legs. The steady impacts of his crotch against hers sent the sighing brunette into wild activity, sent her full naked tits into a violent paroxysm of movement. Hot juices poured from her, practically spurting, to coat her quivery thighs and darken the sheet under the man's long rumply ball-sac.
Playing with his cock to no purpose, Clay watched.
Male body was pounding the superlatively female body of his woman. And he watched. And he loved it.
With every out-stroke, his cock came slurping forth so that Clay could see its thick redness, dripping with her fluids. Then it tucked away again, vanishing into the sucking hot pudding of her vagina.
The man was pounding her in a wild surge of hyper activity, with all the strength he could muster.
The constant undulations of her pneumatic hips ensured her getting the entire hot length of his pulsing cock-which she could feel, pulsing away inside her. A great groan erupted from deep in his bony, perspiration-flecked chest and he ground in to sink his prick deep, as deep as his little grinding ass-cheeks could power it.
Clay watched the older man swerve his hips to fill her up, to twist flailing organ inside the girl's flesh. His long bony body ground over her soft curves while the broad knob of his deep-seated prick frictioned against quaking, flinching cuntal walls like watered silk.
With all his strength he hammered her writhing body, bouncing hard and fucking hard, and her mounded tits bounced and jiggled every time his body slapped onto hers.
Give it to her, Sexton, old sexy Sexton, Clay urged mentally. Sock it to her, man, cock it to her! Make her squirm and whimper and beg and make her commme! Go to town, you horny cocksucker!"
"HUNNNNHHH!" she grunt-groaned, when Sexton knelt up, hoisted her legs, and really gored into her.
Then he was groaning, too, and really clamping his ass-cheeks together to strain in, and Clay knew he was watching another man spew hot seminal fluids into the woman he meant to marry.
A few minutes later Sexton, having come, went.
A few minutes after that, having kissed and fondled Clay and told him how exciting it was to have him watch while she was screwed, rose and started for the door.
"Where you going?"
She turned back. "My room."
He got up, walked toward her and around her. Taking up a stance between the blue-robed brunette and the door to his room, he folded his arm.
"No you aren't. That's a bullshit charade. You're staying here."
She smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."
"I didn't. Drag ass in the bathroom and get Sexton's scum out of your pussy."
"Yowzah!" Smiling, she went trippily to the bathroom.
"And leave that dam' robe in there," he called after her. Then he went over to flip on the bedside lamp, after which he returned to shut off the bright overhead light. Make yourself at home, he thought, and he put on his robe and went downstairs. He raided the refrigerator for a hunk of roast beef and two diminutive bottles of golden Miller's.
He was sitting in the chair, facing the bedroom door and sipping beer, when she emerged. With a sudden bright smile, she struck a pose. She was naked. Clay shook his head.
"Jesus. What a fertility goddess! You look like an old-time idealized statue, all tits and hips and no waist at all."
She grinned, wagged her hips, clamped her hands on either side of her waist just above those flaring hips, and pressed. Her fingertips nearly touched.
"Glad you like the body, sweetheart."
"I love the body. I love the woman. Want a beer."
"No thanks."
"Good. I feel like drinking 'em both. I think I feel a silly question coming on, but...does everybody make it with everyone else here?"
Alison nodded.
"Everybody'! With everybody? Every-body?"
She swayed over to his chair, a mobile fertility goddess, done in pink and white with black furry decorations on top and in the middle. "Yes," she said. "Does that shake you up?"
"Sure," he said, sounding anything but shaken. "I hadn't expected anything like this...this sex-ridden household!"
She seemed to flow down to her knees beside his chair. She leaned on his thigh. Blue eyes looked up at him. "But you're into it, Clay-you're worthy of the family! According to our count, you've come seven times in-" She paused to check her watch, which was all she wore. "Seven times in the past thirty-one hours!"
He wrapped a cold hand around a large ivory and carnation tit.
"So you've all been checking, and comparing notes, huh? I ought to be pissed-off, you know."
She looked sad. "What can I do to make Master unpissed-off?"
"Come around here between my legs and give me your mouth. Let's see if we can't make it eight times in thirty-two hours!"