Chapter 7
Carol had already exploded with her orgasm and had dropped to the floor wrestling Paul's pants off and just began to suck on his dick when the phone rang, breaking the silence of the quiet room. Her first shocked, automatic reaction made her sink her teeth sharply into his swollen joint at the base where the curly underbrush of hair sprouted all over.
Pain, unbearable excruciating pain shot through his erected joint. For more than a brief moment, Paul thought all he had left were two useless balls hanging around. Not since he was kicked in his shins in college dining the big ten championship, had he ever experienced such a throbbing agony.
His eyes were squeezed shut as the suffering raced throughout his entire body. While Paul grabbed for dear life to soothe his injured dork, Carol rolled over on the floor, totally broken up with laughter. Within a fraction of a second after her mouth clamped shut, his seven inches ram-rod dwindled to a mere miniature size Tootsie Roll. She had creamed and milked quite a few joints since she was fourteen, but never had one collapsed in such record time.
Swinging over onto his knees, he raced on all fours ( actually on all threes, since one hand cupped his wounded short arm), to the phone reaching it finally, after a few slips in the dark, out of breath.
Realizing who was on the phone, Carol crawled over to Paul and began to kiss him on the neck and ear all the time holding herself back from laughing. He kept shooing her away. She could play his silly game. She changed her tactics and pretended she was a weaning calf and nosed her mouth along his side looking for an utter of sorts. After some playful hunting and pecking, she found what she sought and began to suckle on his penis. If only his old lady could see him now she thought, drawing on his stick with her rounded lips, sucking in with the vacuum of her cheeks.
It was working. She felt it come to life and fill up with blood, stretching down and back of her throat. But she didn't stop there. She grabbed his nuts with her left hand and began to squeeze and fondle them the same way Humphry Bogart played with his "balls" in the Caine Mutiny Court Martial.
It was too much for Paul to bear. He felt the tingling sensation from the thin sliver of skin at the top of his mushroom-shaped head. How the fuck could he keep his cool with Jill. She'd catch on and get curious. But he couldn't tell Carol to stop and he couldn't swing back at her because she was off perpendicular to his side. Nothing to do but hang up as soon as possible.
"Yah ... me too, ... yes ... you know I will ... right ... kiss the kids for me ... no ... you don't have to worry about it again ... promise...."
Finally, she hung up. He reached for the phone, missed it the first time, then slammed the receiver down.
"Who was that Paul," Carol said with a dumb, curious voice, "Anyone I know?"
"You know who the fuck it was!"
'Now how did I know that? You were talking to her ... I wasn't."
Paul groped in the dark, rolling her over on her back. He grabbed her wrists forcing them out-stretched to the side. He laid down on top of her warm body, his chest flattened her hot breasts, his legs wedging themselves between hers after a brief flurry of muscular resistance that ended before it really began.
"You asked for it you ... you ... ," he said, pretending anger and biting her lips. " ... you shark. You are going to get every inch I've got and then some. I'm going to ram my dick into your fucking cunt so deep my cone's going to tickle your adams apple."
Carol was still sore and stiff from the night before, but she was loving every minute of it. She squirmed and twisted, trying to break free, but she was wedged too tight to budge. His hot throbbing rod felt like a hot salami sliding between the wet lips of her slit. Every time he moved it went deeper and deeper, tickling her swollen clit.
She wanted him bad. Every second brought her closer to when he'd shove deep inside her box ... in and out ... in and out ... in and out ... faster and faster and faster ... deeper and deeper, each thrusting, savage plunge. She loved the sloshing sound his penis made splashing back and forth through her lubricating honey, drenching the walls of her hot box. But most of all, she desired that final thrust that ignited the explosion of white hot come that squirted from the small slit at the tip of his swollen over worked joint.
The mere thought thrilled her hot sweating body. Tired of playing games, she rested her heels on the back of his knees and spread her legs, so he could enter at will.
With his first grunt, he drove deep, stretching the tiny passage as it went, stopping as it bounced off the cervix-that volcanic mound of flesh guarding the entrance of her uterus.
She reeled with delight swinging her legs high around his waist, rapping her ankles around each other tightly. His hands ran under her armpits and grabbed her shoulders, jerking her onto his chest each time he rammed his dick deep into her hairy box. Her eyes were shut and she moaned in sheer delight. He was more than she could have hoped for. As he plowed forward, her open wet lips raced up to meet him. She matched grunt for grunt ... thrust for thrust ... pleasure for plea-sure.
His body was the perfect machine, the ultimate product of the industrial society, never missing a singular motion. Never missing that right instant to drive forward. When would he explode. She was in seventh heaven. Every muscle was engulfed in surrounding his molten flesh. Pussy honey pored down her cheeks along the base of her spine, finally dripping onto the floor. Faster and faster he rammed. She felt him switch into high gear, racing for home, his goal in sight. Like a machine gun he shot salvo after salvo of white cotton candy come into her snatch. Her firm, muscular walls reaching out, surrounding his penis, drew out every last drop. He was empty.
His joint thrust deep between her legs, they lay in the deep pile-carpeting, motionless, legs wrapped around each other, racing to catch their breath, entangled in a slithering jacket of sweat that curled their toes.
"You know what," she said, gasping for breath.
"No, what?"
"I ... I ... I never ... knew how ticklish ... my adam's apple ... really was!"