Chapter 3
Pops and I kicked around army posts for the next three years and I learned a few new tricks to assuage a terrific sexual appetite that developed as I matured. Finally we landed in Washington where dad was plunked into a desk job with the Secretary of Defense's office. It was in Washington that two things happened to me that altered my life. The first was Raphael Collins, a middle aged Representative from the far out state of Texas, married, but ever on the make and the second was the theatre, whose seductive powers were even stronger than Raphael's.
Rafe, at forty-three, was the youngest member of the House Armed Services Committee and the possessor of the rampagingest rod in Congress. We met at one of those social gatherings that the administration uses to cajole friendly votes out of very suspecting Congressmen. Daddy and I were the guests of the undersecretary of defense and pop's military bearing was more than an asset in wooing the podunk wives of important husbands. The body politic was a mechanism that was hardly confined to higher statesmanship. The poorly veiled looks that I received when I met daddy at the Pentagon told me there was more on our national leaders' minds than guiding the country on a secure course.
A military appropriations bill was before the Congress and the social season in Washington was booming. Rafe Collins singled me out almost immediately at the party that was already going full blast when we arrived.
"How-do?" Rep. Collins boomed from behind his campaign-poster smile. "Would the little lady do me the honor of dancing the first dance with a poor down home country boy?"
Had there been a bed handy he would have danced me right to it just then. As it turned out he had his car paged and he showed me the Potomac River before the main event.
"Yore daddy won't mind if you don't get right back to the party, will he?" the Congressman asked pulling me closer to the steering wheel.
"Not if its in the national interest," I responded, touching his big hand.
"'Course it's in the national interest," he smiled. "A vivacious lil' darlin' on the arm of a Representative from the sweetest state in the union has gotta be in the national interest. Yore daddy is a mighty lucky young fella to have such a sweet young thing to call his very own ...."
Rafe Collins didn't shut his mouth for five seconds even as I felt his hand slip inexorably down my shoulder.
"That there's the Pentagon," he pointed unnecessarily, "where the great military power of this nation is kept control of. Its fingers filter out into every point on this globe ...."
The Congressman from Texas made his point by thrusting his tantalizing fingers into my dress and around my hardly surprised right breast.
"Not everyone has security clearance," I said evenly, for the game of it
"Why, honey, I speak for the people of a substantial portion of the sovereign state of Texas, and let me tell you this is one campaign I am not gonna miss," he said tightening his grip on my boob.
Almost at once my besieged body was ready for an honorable surrender. "Congressman, I've seen the Pentagon, Isn't there someplace else you'd like to show me?
"Well just press the button and get off the elevator at the sweetest little suite in the fair city of Washington," he said and punctuated his cornpone image by jabbing his index finger into my nipple.
If he was as long in the saddle as he was long-winded the evening was very promising. Then minutes later he let go of my pinched raw tit and we got out in front of a convenient if sleazy-looking motel on the outer fringe of our nation's capitol.
"Ever been to a rodeo," the red faced politician asked as soon as we stepped into the room. "I used to ride the buckingest ponies in North Texas so's you can expect a lot of action, l'l filly."
He was beginning to worry me with his big talk.
"If you're as good as your publicity you'll be all right," I challenged.
"Spunky, eh, I've roped some pretty spunky little heifers, too." He boasted, changing metaphors like they were new socks.
He mimicked throwing a rope and I felt his powerful arms surround me. With surprising agility, he had already unzipped my dress and unsnapped my bra. His big meat hands were filled with my firm young things.
"If you're as good all over as what you got in the top draw we're gonna have some fun," the irrepressible Texan breathed.
I leaned against his thigh and felt his extraordinary thickness punch at me from behind his fly. I couldn't wait any longer to see his equipment and unbuckled his trouser belt.
His Texas sized weenie shot out and I must have recoiled in awe. He had a solid nine inches that sagged with its own weight and he was still growing.
"I'm a music lover, honey, and here's a trumpet. Play a few bars," he said thrusting his mammoth penis my way.
My mouth was salivating madly for a taste of that monster and onto my knees I went. I cupped the magnificent head of his rod on my tongue and enfolded his steamy blood-filled peter with my lips. I teased the powerful load with my teeth and tongue and sent him skyrocketing from the sounds he made. His length was too much for my mouth so I wrapped both hands around his pulsing thickness to keep from choking. I stroked his massive set of balls and felt my pussy melting with impatience.
Suddenly he was standing on one foot and I felt his toes creeping around my muff and roughly caressing my swelling labia. I let go of his rod for the second and then felt his hands grasp my head, pulling me further onto his roaring dick. He pummeled forward and his peter rammed into the back of my throat. I was seeing stars, but he continued to rap his meaty piston into my throat until I thought I would pass out.
His rod had swollen immensely and I clamped down hard to stop the punishing thrusts.
"Thar she blows," he whooped and I was drowned in a welter of semen that shot through my mouth.
"It's a gusher," he cheered while the oozing shaft reamed through my sticky mouth and I felt a rivulet of his pearly oil drip down my chin.
He pulled his gleaming sword from my aching jaws and dabbed the glistening head against my two taut nipples. My breasts thus anointed with a droplet of his man-stuff, he pulled me up and we both fell onto the bed.
"You brand while the iron is hot," he laughed and two powerful hands spread my legs without further delay. His fingers squeezed my hopped up labia and I nearly screamed with the delicious pain.
"Honey, you are ripe," he announced feeling my moisture secret against his fingers, and then against the enormous, tacky glans that had so recently come in my mouth.
With his own hand guiding the entry, he launched his rod into my vagina and I was shot to the heavens with good feeling.
Some men don't utter a sound, saving all of their energy and channeling it into whatever type of sex they are engaging in. Not so with Rafe. With every thrusting, punching hump I got limericks from this hard-screwing Texan.
"There was a young man from Austin Whose cock was primed to bustin'. He corralled some twat from. Laredo Who was rarin' an' achin' to go An' they fucked all the way to Boston."
The poetry didn't make any more sense then it does now, but the poet laureate of the sagebrush and lariat kept a solid time in my pussy thrashing his sleek rod against my interior to the meter of his poems.
He grunted and guffawed with every new limerick. I didn't mind in the least, for the Texan ranged all over my privates, slamming into my cervix and scraping my walls with a thorough, if erratic action.
I bucked my hips and felt him crash on down with a broad grin on his face and fire spitting from his insane rod. He slammed down at an angle to catch my clitoris on every heave and my senses were reeling. He stoked me masterfully and I was wracked with a vicious orgasm just as Rafe exploded in me.
"Eyaaahoooo!" Rafe Collins screeched, doffing an imaginary ten-gallon hat while I giggled helplessly at the antics of this extraordinarily satisfying hunk of man.
He was tireless and I half-expected his thumping vein that bulged from his temple to explode. Instead it continued to expand while he rattled on with another limerick of his own spontaneous creation.
"There once was a horny cowhand
Who was so hung he couldn't hardly stand.
He got hold of a long horn steer
Sez, 'Stay right there, honey, dear.'
Cow farted-left him limp as a rubber band."
The Texan in the poem may have been hapless and petered out, but Congressman Collins' noodle was stiff as a board and he started sawing yours truly like a piece of balsa wood. I had hardly recovered from my first orgasm when he assiduously started work on a second. He added a wrinkle to this one by grasping my buns and intruding his fingers into my fanny. His tickling fingers parted my flesh and explored the delicate membrane that I never had thought a whole lot about. The sensation was fantastic with his rampaging rod searing through my cunny and his poking fingers jamming into hitherto forbidden territory. I was ready to come in no time and as I arched up to feel his knifing cock hit he shot his fingers into my tight anus and I came gloriously.
I gasped trying to catch my breath and promptly had the wind knocked out of me as he bore down and manufactured his own climax with the most insane friction I have ever felt. When he finally spent his load I was limp with weakness.
"A spring chicken like you and tired already," he asked sarcastically.
I couldn't believe it, but Rafe was still firm and potent. He withdrew his spear from my quivering cranny and chucked my chin with his knuckles. I saw the mixture of our juices coating his fingers and I grasped his hand to kiss the wet digits.
"You're a sweet little snatch," he said as he watched me lick the glistening come from his hand. "Have some more," he said swiping at my dripping crotch. I sucked at his fingers and felt his other hand ream my pussy into stimulation again. He corkscrewed his fingers through my reawakened sex and seconds later he replaced his fingers with his gouging rod. But this time he lay crosswise to my body on his side with my knees pulled over his hip. His long probing penis squeezed between my haunches and he thrust by twisting his body against mine. He put his hands on my breasts and made them dance to the same rhythm he was pumping. He pinched them into a set of raw tingling nerve ends and my pussy melted all over again. He began jerking roughly and his peter was swelling once again. With a final violent twist against my butt he shot one last gusher of come into my hungry nook.
I was almost relieved to feel Rafe's Texas tower of a rod disintegrate and become rubbery and finally slide out of my punished pube.
"I take my hat off to ya' little lady," he said, lavishing some sloppy wet kisses on my breasts. "I promise you we got to get together again."
Sated as I was, his pronouncement brought a tiny thrill to my heart, for I had never been so thoroughly screwed in my life and I looked forward to another "rodeo" the likes of this one.
We met again the following weekend and Rafe showed me more of his repertoire with comic ditties to match his insatiable lusting rod. On our fourth rendezvous our relationship was compounded.
"Like you to meet a constituent of mine," the Texas Congressman boomed as he helped me onto the deck of a twenty foot yacht in the Potomac basin.
"Charlie Siever, meet Miss Samantha Bonno," Rafe said, introducing me to a tall ruddy-faced smiling man. "This here battleship belongs to Mr. Siever and he's been dying to meet you."
"Welcome 'board," the yacht captain drawled, smiling self-contentedly. I can see why Rafe speaks so highly of you."
I blushed and took in the lean, muscular young man who radiated such self-confidence.
"We'll be underway in just a few minutes, Rafe. Why don't you and Miss Bonno retire to the cabin and fix some drinks," Charlie Siever urged.
Moments later we were seated in the comfortable cabin and the powerful hum of the ship's engine split the air. I sipped a daiquiri and marveled at the luxury of the craft as we pulled out of the dock and headed for the main channel of the Potomac River.
"Charlie's a dear old friend from back home," Rafe explained, "Kind of my protege."
We weren't underway ten minutes before Rafe suggested we try out the downy soft bunk.
"What about Charlie," I asked.
"Oh, let's not worry about Charlie, he's got a heap of pilotin' to do," my handsomely hung companion assured.
And so I finished my drink and climbed onto the foam rubber bunk. We got out of our duds and Rafe's strong hands kneaded my skin. His familiar fingers conjured shivers that punctuated my body. His regal sized rod was reared and ready to go within moments and I luxuriated in my feminine powers to get him hot so quickly. The waves splashing just outside while the craft plowed through the water set an exciting backdrop for this sex bout and I couldn't wait for Rafe to slip his spear into my seething porthole.
His prowess on land was duplicated on the water, for he glided smoothly through my glutinous vagina and sent me clawing the air with his fantastic action.
"There was a sailing boat skipper
Whose rod was dry as a kipper.
He spied Samantha Bonno
Who tried, but couldn't say no
And now the skipper's dipper's a dripper!"
Rafe managed his tongue twisting limerick flawlessly and we both burst out laughing while he drove against my womb relentlessly.
We frictioned against each other with an incredible rhythm, so much so, that I did not even hear the engine switch off. Rafe was slamming in with two hundred pounds of thrust and my teeth ached with the sexual stimulation. We were both about to come simultaneously when Rafe suddenly jerked out of my pube with a hateful game of coitus interruptus. I opened my eyes in wide surprise and saw Charlie Siever standing above my loving Congressman.
"That's not funny," I hissed angrily.
"It's time for the second team," Rafe laughed. I tried to sit up, but he pinned my shoulders to the mattress. I could see Charlie Siever unbuttoning his white ducks and my suspicions were confirmed. Another long horned Texan was about to take the plunge.
"'Scuse me, Rafe," Charlie said, tapping the older man on his shoulder. Collins made way and Charlie sailed into my saddle. His rod was bent like a banana, but the hardest piece of fruit you're likely to see in a long while. It would be senseless to struggle, I decided and happily so.
Charlie Siever's rod cut into me like a sickle and he began harvesting fields in me I never knew could be cultivated. His weirdly angled rod shattered through my hungry cranny and I was sent to the skies with his insane pumping action.
He took up the slack where Rafe had left off and I was ready to climax within moments. My pussy came apart like a jigsaw puzzle when I did come. But Charlie drove on through the flying pieces like an express train. Finally he spewed a gallon of come into my hot little pod and lay unmoving with me firmly impaled by his hook-like rod.
"Do I tell stories, or do I say true?" Rafe asked above my head. "I never doubted you, Uncle Raphael," Charlie drawled back winking an eye at me.
"I'm so hot I'm 'bout to burst," Rafe whined.
"Well, I was just warmin' up," Charlie laughed.
"Bet ya fifty dollars, lil' ole Samantha can make us both happy," Rafe Collins said with a twinkling bloodshot eye.
LI ole Samantha wasn't going to have much to say about the matter and that was for certain, for Rafe's mountain sized rod was laid across my mouth and one peep out of me meant acceptance of his whole length.
"Come on, Samantha, honey," Rafe cajoled.
"Go ahead, give the old fellow some thrills," Charlie said just inches from my face. He flexed his own rod inside of me and I felt a twinge of renewed stimulation.
"If you share it with me," I said through pursed lips while Rafe's sausage continued to swell under my nose.
Charlie blinked and his brow knit in surprise.
"That's my girl. The sweetest thing in the nation's capitol just made the best suggestion I heard all day," Rafe guffawed.
Charlie's face turned red as a turnip. Clearly, he didn't want to disobey his mentor, but the thought of sucking on old Rafe's rod was revolting. The young stud with his banana shaped penis was locked in the horns of a momentous decision. I made it for him by pushing Rafe's meat against Charlie's mouth. He opened it in surprise and got an even greater surprise. We were both playing the Congressman's dong like it was a harmonica. Charlie shut his eyes and began stroking in me, all the while nibbling on a solid three inches of Rafe. I twisted my head and received the front end of the Texan's swollen weenie. Rafe was being stimulated out of his mind with two sets of jaws moistly working over his piece.
Below, Charlie's rump was going a mile a minute, driving his hard-on as deep into my belly as it could go. My pussy was sucking at his boomerang with every thrust and being shaken to its very depths.
I had never handled two men at once before, but I was more than equal to the task. I gnawed relentlessly on Rafe's knobby head until I could feel the taut skin expanding with an imminent explosion. Charlie was keeping his end of the bargain and chewing lustily along the shaft of the piece. His hands were kneading my breasts like pizza dough and I was being blasted to the moon with such insane stimulation.
Charlie was timing his strokes now, on the verge of coming himself. We aimed for a tripleheader and timed out perfectly. My mouth and pussy were awash with semen and I exploded against Charlie's ravaging rod at the same time.
We lay bobbing in the gentle rolling channel, still stimulated and ready for more action. My pussy was happily clogged with Charlie's slab of bent meat and Rafe's rod held firm at my cheek. The taste of his tangy come lingered in my mouth and Charlie's tongue mingled with the slippery stuff.
"You've got to get a taste of Samantha's mouth," I heard Rafe say and Charlie slid his boomerang rod out of its nesting place. He squatted on the bunk and I turned over onto my belly to take his fascinating equipment between my lips. Rafe stood by with his hands on his hips and watched while I made a meal of Charlie's underipe banana. I skimmed the stickiness off his piece and scraped his pliant hardness with my teeth.
Charlie's eyes were shut and he was soaring in outer space with my tonguing. His indefatigable thickness swelled with a throbbing that only made my mouth water for more. But Rafe wasn't content to be a spectator it turned out, for I suddenly felt his hot breath behind me and his familiar hands clenching my breasts under me. His powerful prick roughly wedged against my fanny, I felt my buns being parted. He thrust and I thought my flesh was being ripped apart.
"Variety is the spice of life," he whispered in my ear and he added some more dashes of burning pepper with an agonizing push of his knobby rod. He slammed through my tight ass flower and I felt his pounding thickness friction mercilessly against my interior walls. I bit on Charlie's hard-on in pain and he jerked his swollen piece out of my mouth. There was a fury in his eyes and suddenly he grasped his charged penis and kneaded it in his hands not two inches from my face. A welter of come exploded from his muzzle and caught me square in the eyes while Rafe bellowed his approval and reamed my punished fanny the harder.
My eyes stung with the salty spray and I felt globules of the slimy ooze dribble down my cheeks.
To add injury to insult Charlie circled my closed eyes with the tip of his dripping rod and squeezed the hot flesh against my face until I was coated with the cold-drying stuff.
"Enough," I started to gasp, but Rafe was puncturing my bottom so violently that I couldn't get the word out. He was pumping furiously and his rod seared through my backside with reckless abandon. I felt his prick swell and with a mammoth grunt he loosed a charge of come in the depths of my bowels.
I enjoyed a good sex game, but not when I was being taken advantage of. But now it was too late and I was the virtual plaything of these two Texassized appetites.
My day was unfortunately made and I never did see the water the craft sailed on until Charlie headed back to the Potomac basin. For the rest of the afternoon they took turns with me and I was screwed through every opening big enough to accommodate a rod.
By the time they were finished with me I lay a limp wreck in the same bunk. When we got back to port I hailed a cab and made it home. I wouldn't have another thing to do with Rafe Collins as long as I lived, I vowed.