Chapter 7

The studio apartment in the casino-hotel was empty when Toni Davon arrived. No Rory. And no old Pontiac station wagon in their parking slot.

She felt on the verge of panic, remembering his anger, not realizing the entire thing had been staged. She dug into the locked closets and found his cameras and clothes, yet was obsessed by a terrifying fear that he had left her and would sneak back to pick up his gear sometime when she was out of the studio. A wave of near panic swept over her and she felt her cum-filled belly clench.

Oh, God! What a fool I've been, the flaxen-maned young wife accused herself. She tried to think where Rory could have gone at this hour of day, in righteous wrath raised by what he had caught her in. There were at least a thousand bars in Vegas, she knew. But Rory had never gone on a wild drunk in his life! She checked the note pad for possible appointments and found none. She dried tears of remorse from her glistening dark eyes and used the phone to check with the desk. There had been no calls for either her or Rory.

In desperation she tried to think her way out of the morass.

She had no friends who could help her. Chris and Shawna might try, but what would they know about how to find somebody in the neon jungle of Las Vegas? Calling the police would be embarrassing to say the least.

The distressed blonde remembered the quiet, polite security man-what was his name-DeCosta! He seemed to know just what was going on, and Toni was aware that in Las Vegas the private police knew much more than the public police. She used the phone again, reached security, and found he was not on duty at that hour. However, he lived in the hotel and she was put through to his room. Crisply he answered the call.

DeCosta had been indoctrinated into his trade by a hitch in Navy Intelligence, moving on later to the Central Intelligence Agency. He paid more attention to the inflections of words as they were spoken than to the words themselves. He remembered the encounter and didn't mind being awakened by Toni Davon. He had the impression she was on the verge of freaking, and it was his job to see that nothing like that happened. He controlled his voice carefully.

"Mrs. Davon, I don't think you have anything to worry about. All of us run off the rails sometimes and this may be your. husband's day. I can ask some questions. If he had an accident, I'll know in ten minutes. If he's visiting a friend, that will take longer. I can make the calls from here and let you know within the hour."

"I can't stand waiting," Toni blurted. Waiting and not knowing. She hadn't told the detective the entire story. Impulsively she pleaded, "Could I-could I come to your room and be there when you look for him?"

"If you want-but it's messy. The housekeeping staff doesn't show much respect for me."

"I couldn't care less!" the aroused taffy-haired blonde replied. "I'm heading for there now!"

"All right. I'll get some wake-up coffee cooking and put my pants on," DeCosta said. "Give me fifteen minutes-I'm in bed."

His at-home appearance was a shock to Toni, who had only seen the impeccably garbed man when he was on duty. Now DeCosta wore paisley flare slacks and, as far as she could see, nothing else. His hair was uncombed and his apartment, which was about the same size as the one she and Rory had, looked like a bear's cave. She could smell coffee brewing. He met her at the door with a telephone on a long cord in his hand and, listening, waved her inside to the small living room.

Somehow, she thought, he's so male and handsome this way, instead of being wrapped up in a gray flannel suit! The long-limbed girl felt a new stirring in her loins as she heard him speaking in rapid Italian. The long phone cord followed him like a snake as he locked the door, sank into an overstuffed chair and reached for a cigarette.

"This could take some time," he said, covering the phone with his hand. "The coffee is about done. I could use some."

Toni Davon went into the tiny kitchen, found cups and sugar and poured from the gurgling percolator. She carried them into the other room and watched DeCosta at work, thinking he certainly knew his business as he placed one call after another, sometimes speaking in English, sometimes in Italian, of which she knew a few words, and then in a language completely strange to her, although it sounded like some Russian she'd heard once in a TV debate involving Russians.

Her short dress was sliding up to reveal the curvaceous globes of her asscheeks, and she found herself wishing she had worn a brassiere because her ripe, wide-set breasts were spilling from the bodice of the dress, but then, she didn't even own a bra. Well, after what she had been through, it didn't seem important. She trembled, partly with anxiety over what might have happened to Rory and partly because in her newly awakened womanhood she was excited by the nearness of the lean, hard-muscled man who was bare to the waist and not even wearing slippers. Her eyes were drawn to the front of his pants and there was an unmistakable pole of flesh growing there, even though it seemed he had only given her the barest of glances and was being all business.

She began to know what it was to feel like a woman. Not just a pretty figure on a photographic print, but a woman.

And Toni Davon liked the feeling.

Twice she refilled his coffee cup as he hung on the phone, asking, demanding. As she made another trip to the coffee pot, she swung around momentarily and saw that his dark Latin eyes were on her long, golden legs and jiggling asscheeks even as he talked. She liked that.

Toni tossed her hair. She liked him-mostly because he didn't push or try to maneuver. He was probably the coolest person she had ever met; "cool" meaning not coldness, but great self-control.

As she returned with more coffee, there was a rasping buzz. DeCosta kicked at a stack of newspapers, magazines and paperback books, fished out a second telephone and began talking into both at once. Now he was scowling and speaking in foreign languages until he hung up.

The anxious girl with the wheat-pale hair had a sense of deep apprehension as he hung up both phones. He didn't look happy.

"Your husband's okay," he said. "No blood on the highway, Mrs. Davon."

"Just what does that mean? I want the truth!" Toni blurted as she sat beside him and raised her coffee cup to her sensual lips with a shaking hand. "And let's drop 'Mrs. Davon'- I'm Toni. I have to know ... I must know."

"He's not in any trouble. He'll be home sometime today, if my information is correct," DeCosta said. He couldn't keep his eyes from the sleek, voluptuous beauty of her and felt his cock hard as a rock. "My suggestion is you just put it down to a little family fight, which always cleans the air."

"Horse shit!" Toni exploded, using an expression which she had never used before, her dark eyes now angry as she tossed her head and her long flaxen hair flailed. "I thank you for finding him but I damn well want to know what the scene is! Don't think you'll be put down as a fink for telling me-whatever it is, he'll be bragging about it when he does decide to come home! Now tell me!"

"It's going to hit you between the eyes, Toni," the security man said seriously. "But if you insist on knowing, he's been with a girl who's not nearly as impressive as you are. Her name is Micah Brautovich and she's a secretary for an advertising agency. Pretty, but skinny. From what I can learn, not a bad girl-not a whore-but she likes men."

"Oh, Jesus!" Toni Davon murmured, as the vision of skinny little Mike flashed through her mind. She reached and clutched at the man beside her, sobbing, yet thinking of her own bad conduct and finding herself unable to blame Rory. Her face wet with tears, she mumbled, "Do you have anything strong to drink? Oh, God, how I need a drink before my bird falls out of his tree!"

"It's early in the day, but I do have some brandy. Let me spike your coffee and maybe you'll feel better."

One liberally poured shot of brandy didn't do it, but three did. Toni sipped the heavily laced coffee as she found out how to control her emotions, and release her inhibitions. Her hot dark eyes were drawn to DeCosta's tight-fitting pants and she could see the rigid outline of his ready cock, could even imagine the jumping of it as his blood pulsed through the heart of his maleness.

She thought of the things she had done, and wondered how much lower she could go before turning into Instant Harlot, and didn't care.

What was left to care about, with Rory taking up with the lean little girl, and herself sucking cock and eating cunt?

And now she could feel DeCosta becoming restless

"Is this for me?" the distressed young wife said as she reached for his hot loins and her slender ringers clasped the rigidity of his manhood. Never had she thought she could be so bold and brazen, but now there was a burning compulsion within her. "I want it."

"You caused it," DeCosta said, moving up to her grasping hand. "I was happily in bed sleeping alone and you called, and ... the bed isn't made. It's like an unmade bed."

"Show me," Toni said, clawing at him in a mix of desire and need for revenge on her husband. She pulled him to his feet and pressed her smooth young body against him.

"Show me, DeCosta ... oooohhhh ... show me! I'm not a Vegas whore! I've learned so many terrible things about myself lately, I don't understand me. I'm half drunk and I know it. But I know what I'm doing now, at this moment in time. I want a man, and you're here. Take care of me. Ooooohhhh, take care of me, DeCosta!"

Wild with desire, the lovely blonde almost dragged him into his own bedroom. As he watched, somewhat stunned, she shrugged out of her minidress and peeled her gossamer lace-fringed panties down the smoothly curved columns of her golden legs. Toni tossed her rich mane of taffy-hued hair and her eyes flashed defiance and challenge. The brandy was burning in her skull.

"Any way!" she panted. "Take me any way you want! I don't care how much it hurts." She gulped, realizing what a degrading thing she had said, but her blood was still hot. "Your prick?" She licked her lust-swollen lips. "I want it, DeCosta. Any way. For God's sake get those pants off and give it to me!"

Like a snarling animal, the curvaceous blonde girl went at him, her hands clawing at the zipper of his fly until his pants slid down his legs and his cock sprang free, long and hard. With a groan of lewd, obscene desire, she dropped to her knees and began to kiss it reverently, her tongue lashing the bulbous head, and then her beautiful face swelled as she drove her ravenous lips down, down, all the way until they were buried in his pubic hair as she sucked eagerly. She felt his hands enclosing her wild thatch of pale hair as he rucked deep into her throat, the thick, rubbery cockhead ramming far below her tonsils. And then he was holding her straining, lust-contorted face tight to his loins and speaking.

"Let's get on the bed and do it to each other, pretty girl."

Reluctantly the aroused young woman released the thick phallus from her devouring lips. She wondered how she could ever have come to this, but knew she had to have it, now that Rory was fucking that skinny little bitch!

She hoped he would do unspeakable things to her, things she could hurl in the complacent face of her unfaithful husband.

They tumbled into the rumpled bed that smelled richly of his masculinity, and now she realized, as hands maneuvered and his fingers lewdly slid over her breasts, that it would be good.

Not right-she was a married woman-but good!

The aroused palomino-haired girl panted and yielded to the sure pressure of his arms and fingers, until they were lying on their sides, face to loins, and she felt her long, shapely legs being spread as his tongue and lips caressed the hot tenderness of her sensitive inner thighs. As her yearning cunt flowered open she felt his breath on the pale-hued coral inner flesh and her body undulated with uncontrolled desire, slowly as a snake coiling and uncoiling, and as ready to strike.

DeCosta's long, lust-throbbing cock was a fraction of an inch from her face, and with a groan of desire she took it in her hand and began to rub the velvety head, its softness a great contrast to the hardness of the staff, that loomed over her face. His hot breath was like fire on her blood-engorged pussy, and with a moan she splayed her long, silken legs wider.

And then, after she had been tantalized and aroused, he finally did it! Toni felt the flickering tip of his tongue slide up and down the soft and hair-guarded flesh of her vaginal slit, seeking, burrowing into her seeping pussy.

"Oooooohhhh!" the beautiful blonde sighed and tightly clamped her quivering velvet thighs around his head and screwed her cunt up to his exploring mouth. His tongue slithered up into the depths of her vaginal channel and she fucked up to it like it was the beautiful cock she was holding. She couldn't restrain herself any longer. With a sigh of wanton desire she wet her salivating soft lips with the tip of her slithering pink tongue and her warm, wet mouth engulfed the beautiful head of his long cock, her tongue seeking the little dewy pearl that had materialized in the slit at the top.

Through her mind flashed the thought that it was nice.

Having his tongue in her hot, wet cunt, and being able to suck him at the same time. His semen-heavy balls beckoned and she grasped them urgently, so hard that he groaned. Tongue lashing, the aroused young wife relaxed her mouth and slowly sucked the delicious penis deeper and deeper into her throat, her smoothly tanned cheeks drawn in tight, outlining it with the intensity of her sucking. DeCosta's tongue was playing with her clitoris and dancing like a well-trained snake from side to side in her gaping, lubricious pussy.

Soon they found a rhythm.

He fucked deep into her eager lips, and then his own lips and tongue did delicious things to her seething cunt. Toni knew this could go on for a long time ...

And it did. Time without end, she thought, as she sucked and he kissed and nibbled her electrically charged pussy, until with a groan of approaching climax he rolled her onto her back and began to fuck like a stud into her willing mouth even as he spread her thighs wide and buried his face in the soft bush of her pubic hair, and his tongue became a spear of fire.

They came together, his hot, thick sperm pouring into her eager lips even as her own juices boiled from the depths of her jerking belly into his mouth.

His hot sperm swirling in her belly, Toni Davon shifted so that his weight rolled off her and they were lying side by side savoring each other's genitals. The bedroom was rich with the aroma of their wild satisfaction.

"That wasn't planned ... it just happened," DeCosta said as he shook two cigarettes from a pack on the night stand, lit them and put one between her lips. "I feel like a shit! You came here for help and this happened."

"I don't want you to feel that," Toni said, almost choking on the smoke with the rich taste of his cum in her mouth. "DeCosta, I could have stopped it, just told you no! But I was out for revenge. I wanted you as a deadly weapon." She smiled her lips glistening silver with his cum around the phallic symbol of the cigarette. "And when it got to the nitty-gritty, I wanted you." She ruffled her pale hair and tried to compose what she would say next. "I mean, at first I was using you. I wanted to be put down, humiliated because my husband spent the night fucking a skinny little girl. God, how I wanted to hurt him! But then when it began, I turned on to it." Almost shyly, she said, "I was really making love with you."

"I had that idea!" he said, grinning for the first time Toni could remember. He had seemed like such a cold fish until now. He moved to fondle her breasts and kiss the outthrust sensitive nipples as his hand stroked her dripping cunt. Her arms wrapped him with all her young, yearning strength and she hummed deep in her cum-soaked throat in pleasure. "You know how Vegas is ... lots of girls. You come to know when they're doing it just to kill time or really mean it."

"Yes," the satiated blonde said. "But I was a freak. I mean, shook, and not just by my husband shacking up with a girl. I have to get it off my chest."

It took her a long time to spill it all out, and she didn't spare herself. She told of her former frigidity and her initiation to fellatio and cunnilingus and lesbianism, pacing the small bedroom from wall to wall, naked, smelling of woman aroused and insatiable. He lay in the bed and watched and listened and smoked cigarettes, making no comment until she had spent herself, sure that when he had heard the entire sordid tale he would reject her.

Yet his maleness grew and became like the trunk of a redwood tree.

"Come back to bed," he said.

Yearning for comfort, Toni Davon did, not caring what he would do to her now after all she had confessed.

She found herself rolled onto her back, and even as her long smooth legs scissored in the air he was on top of her, his strong fingers squeezing her softly resilient breasts and his newly rigid cock splitting the tender lips of her pussy, ramming wildly up into the seething depths of her cunt, rippling the soft inner flesh ahead of it, as her wide-stretched asscheeks were hammered by his balls.

"OOOOHHH!! FUCK ME!!! FUCK MEEE!!" the wildly aroused blonde girl cried out, her nails raking his back as she felt his cock splitting the welcoming lips of her pussy that he had licked and kissed and sucked. Wildly squirming, she began to chant, without realizing what she was saying, "FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! HARDER! HARDER! ALL THE WAY IN MY BELLY! YESSS!!! OH, YOUR COCK!" The aroused blonde clutched at the man who was giving her so much wild pleasure like a she-tiger, her long fingernails drawing blood. She cried out, "I'M GOING TO CUM! AND CUM AND CUM AND CUMMMM... AS LONG AS YOU CAN FUCK!"

Wildly Toni screwed up and' down his rampaging penis, feeling it piston into the very depths of her body as the wild climax went on and on. Looking down through the jiggling mounds of her ripe cone-shaped breasts, she could see his penis slamming wetly into the lubricious, lewdly wide-stretched cheeks of her squirming buttocks.

Oh, she thought, this is animal... but this is fucking!

She wanted his hot sperm boiling in a torrent deep into her tightly grasping cunt, filling her. If DeCosta pulled it out at the last moment and offered it to her soft lips, she would suck again, but this time she just wanted what she already had-a ramming, reaming, hot, plunging poker of male-flesh in her yearning pussy.

Blood was streaming from DeCosta's back and Toni Davon realized her own frenzied raking of fingernails had drawn it. She tried to lick it away as he slammed his penis deep into her eager body and her long curvaceous legs locked higher and higher around him, and she kept cumming and cumming and cumming, crying out her insane pleasure at being fucked. And then she felt his plundering cock swell and flex, and with a hurting, slamming stroke, drive to the depths of her seething cunt and explode hot, stringy cum into her sucking vagina.

Still hard inside her, the security agent rolled her over until they were again lying on their sides. Toni was still moaning softly as her orgasm diminished, and she kissed him deeply, feeling his hand stroke her sweating back.

"That never happened before," she mumbled. "I mean, not so much!"

"You are a lot of girl," he said. "For a girl like you, a man will fuck himself to death."

"Tell that to my husband," Toni Davon said with bitterness. She found herself surprised. DeCosta had seemed so cold, like a machine. But when she had needed him he had come through, asking no questions, and she herself had invited the sex. The littered apartment told her he lived alone in the flesh pot of Las Vegas. Shyly, in the light of the carnality they had been through, Toni asked, "Do you mind if I clean up this place a little? It's a mess."

"The women they hire for maids here haven't been in for a week." he said. "I could put some heat on them."

"I'd rather do it myself," Toni said.

She set about cleaning and scrubbing and remade the bed with fresh linen. DeCosta shaved and showered and dressed in his gray flannel suit, sliding a small pistol into his pocket, and went off to work. Toni had the desk ring her apartment, and when there was no answer, went up there. She packed some essential clothes and hid them in a closet in DeCosta's studio, and then had duplicates made of the room key. She didn't know why she had, but the instinct for survival told her to find a place to go to in case Rory showed up in a rage. The proud girl didn't want her marriage to break up-but she wouldn't let herself be abused. Or used.

If Rory wanted to screw a scrawny little girl, let him.

Toni Davon knew she could always get a man for companionship or sex or both; and that she could make her own way as a model if she felt like it or had to.

Now all that had happened seemed like a nightmare in which she was one of the principal performers. Her yielding to both Chris and Shawna, the terrible scene with Rory, and then hopping so eagerly into DeCosta's bed! A few days ago Toni Davon couldn't have imagined herself doing any of these things, but they had all come to pass and she had to face it....

"Where the hell can that bitch be?" Rory Davon demanded as he slammed down the phone. The phone at their apartment had rung countless times. Toni wasn't in a jail or hospital. While Rory didn't for a minute blame her for being angry, he couldn't figure where she might have disappeared to, and this annoyed him. Chris and Shawna said only that they had lent her a car and that she might just be driving around, getting her head straight. At least there was no panic situation with his work-the answering service advised that no calls had come through, so he didn't have to worry about urgent work. The lean, hard-muscled photographer cradled the phone, for one time not slamming it down in frustration, and looked at the little naked girl in the rumpled bed.

God, but she was pretty! That smooth rounded ass and the slender legs and the small but perfectly formed breasts! And didn't she know how to use her body? Yes, she did!

He began to get hard, remembering the night. He slammed the flat of his strong hand down on her upturned ivory-hued buttocks, and Mike sprang into the air, yelping. She had drifted off to sleep in exhaustion after they had tried everything they could think of. He watched the reddening marks left by his fingers and said, "Pretty ass."

"You don't have to beat it bloody," she retorted, rubbing the resilient globes. "Now make it happy."

She knelt on the bed, her cheek hard against the wrinkled sheet, and reached back to spread the taut asscheeks wide and offer him the tiny rose of her anus. His penis rigid, Rory Davon mounted the little girl in a push-up position, bringing the blood-engorged head of his cock to the sensitive orifice. He grasped her hips and thrust violently.

"Aaaahhh!" Mike cried out as the full length of his penis rammed violently up into her hot rectum and was buried to the hilt as his heavy balls slapped wetly into her cunt furrow. He remained deeply sunk into her vitals, flexing his long cock and hearing her moan in mingled pain and pleasure before he began to slowly fuck in and out of her tight little asshole, which gripped his cock like a wet velvet glove enclosing a rapacious iron hand. Mike's tongue wet her passionate lips as she twisted her head back and saw him doing it to her, and she cried out, "Oooohhh ... make it slow and long, long, looonnnggg!"

As the jaded Rory Davon slid his cock deeply in and out of the hotly rippling flesh of the squirming, panting girl's anus, he thought he had never found fucking this good in his life! She groaned as the pale pink flesh of her sphincter was drawn out of her body, wrapped like a condom around his prick, and then sighed as he filled her back passage to the hilt, all the time grinding and churning her beautiful asscheeks.

With something like this, who needed frigid Toni?

Toni in his mind became a piece of meat to be thrown to the wolves ... and he knew a number of wolves now.