Chapter 7
"It's benign," John Huffman said. "It is a cancer, but it's benign. Your mother and I talked about it, but she wanted to wait to tell you. I went along. They operated on her yesterday, and they think they got it all."
They all three sat in the Huffman living room, Jack and Sandra and their father. It was Friday, the Friday after the Saturday of Laura's second "initiation." Mister Huffman had come home unexpectedly, "and both of them were very glad they were normally clothed in jeans and shirts.
"Mother's ... okay?"
He nodded. "Yes, Sandra. And you know how she is. She doesn't even want you to come over there, to the hospital."
"I want to go. Tomorrow."
Jack said, "Me too."
They went, next day. She was weak, pale, and spoke very quietly. But yes, she said, she was fine, and the doctor said she should be home in a couple of weeks. When it was time to go, she asked the
"children" to go ahead while their father remained behind for a moment, and he came out looking ready to cry. Then the doctor pulled him aside and spoke very quietly, and he did cry.
Jack drove home. Dad wouldn't talk. He fixed himself a drink and at last, reluctantly, they left him sitting there in the living room staring at nothing. Jack and Sandra went to their rooms-separately.
An hour or so later, he knocked at Jack's door, then came in.
"Son, I lied to you both, and we've lied to your mother, too. She won't be coming home. They opened her up and found-cancer. Too much to operate. They merely sewed her back up. She was pretending today. She's ... you know, doped up. I think maybe she knows, too."
Jack was a little taller than his father, and had a little more hair. John Huffman's was thinning and creeping back on each side of the little point remaining well above his forehead. He had some stomach, naturally enough for a man his age-forty-three-but he was not fat. He looked smaller, right now, when he turned away from his son to stare at the wall.
"You know what that woman told me?" He shook his head. "I just can't get over it! She wanted me to stay so she could tell me ... tell me to ... do something about my ... good God," he said, his voice trembling. "My sex life!"
Jack sat there on his bed, staring at his father's back.
"You two ... you haven't been ... I mean you hadn't been getting along too well before she ... got sick," he said.
"No." His father shook his head. "No, we'd even discussed ... oh, separation, maybe divorce. We weren't sure." He swung around. "Damn it! You're no kid! Look, about all we had was in bed. We're both ... we both were ... like that. She knows it, and she knows what kind of hell I'm going through, over a month without ... without...."
"I know," Jack said. "Like you said, Dad. I'm no kid."
John Huffman gazed at his son speculatively. "You screwing regular, son?"
"Regular enough," Jack said, meeting his gaze.
"Umm." John turned away with a pained look. "Yeah. We'll have to ... watch Sandra. Your mother and I were ... are ... Christ! I can't even be sure which tense to use!"
"Present," Jack said. "Dad, what you're saying, and I guess I knew it if I'd ever thought about it, is that you and Mom are sexy people. And she's going to be ... out of action for ... how long, Dad?"
John remained facing away. "About ... a year," he said quietly. "Maybe less. All ... all downhill. Then ... then...."
Jack sighed. And then death. Lord, what a prospect-for all of them! "Meanwhile," he said, trying to shove it out of his mind, "you're already going-out-of-your-skull horny, and she knows you well enough to tell you to go and get yourself laid "
"That's ... pretty coarse, young man."
"Oh hell. Dad!"
The other man turned slowly. He sighed. "Yeah."
"And you feel oh, guilty about it, huh? Because you know damned well you can't stand it for a year, probably not even another week." Poor Mother, he thought. Poor Dad.
"With ... with her lying there...."
"Yes," Jack interrupted. "Doped up, you said. Sedatives, more and more of them. Poor Mom ... think how guilty she feels!"
"What?"
Jack spread his hands. "She doesn't feel pain or ... anything else, maybe? But she knows you do. So ... you both feel guilty, she because she knows you're, ah, horny. You're the one with the need."
John stared at him. "Would you mind reminding me how old you are?"
"I'm twenty."
"And mighty bright. Maybe it's time we got to know each other."
Jack grinned. "Maybe it is. In a lot of ways I expect you know me better than I do. Could the opposite be true?"
"Maybe," John Huffman sighed. "But right now you sound like you're trying to pack me off to a Madam!"
Jack chuckled and gave his head a negative jerk. "Hardly necessary! I'd hate to think that my father had to go paying for it! That's sort of going out of style. But I do think-I do agree with both you and Mom, that you ought to get yourself fucked, friend."
His father stared at him.
Jack smiled. "It's what you want and need ... and it's what Mom wants, too. And ... the woods're full of wildlife these days. Lots of beaver. Some of 'em even hunt the hunters."
"Whew." John shook his head. "I never pictured myself having a discussion like this with my son! Thanks, I think. Good night, son."
"Good night, Dad," Jack said, and after the older man had left, his son lay back and stared at the wall, thinking about hang-ups-and beaver.
In the morning the three of them went to church together, and Jack prayed. He was far from sure about their being anybody or anything to hear prayer, much less pay attention, but ... he did it, this time. He prayed. For the living. For his father.
After lunch John Huffman went back to Wallingford, him and his inner tension and both mental and physical misery. Jack sincerely hoped he got raped. The people who created all these "rules," he thought, and who got love confused with sexual need, sure were mean bastards!-and sexless.
He was glad he wasn't. This was the afternoon Bonnie Whiteside was due to come over, with her fuzzy little blonde cunt and her silky big white jugs. She already knew why she was coming.
That had been a weird phone call!
"Hi, Bonnie, this's Sandra. You on a party line?"
"What? A party ... no, why?"
"My brother wants to talk to you."
"What..
"Hi, Bonnie. Jack Huffman. How are you?"
"Oh hi, Jack. Fine. Fine. How are you?"
"Well, I'm a little shook up. See, I came home a couple of Saturday nights ago and found all these people doing wild things in the basement, you know what I mean?"
"Wha ... what?"
"You know. Like, Venus, and initiation, and Mary, and that big ole Gerrold tool."
"Gulp."
"I called to tell you I want a date, Bonnie."
"Ad-date? Me? You?"
"Yeah, right Over here at our house. Sunday afternoon. I've got some new phallic Priapic Apollo rites I want to show you."
"Gulp."
"Bonnie?"
Tiny voiced: "what?"
"Be here. About two-thirty. You have to study with Sandra, or talk to her about something. Right?"
Long silence. Then, "Right. All ... all right." Jack made a kissing sound. "Beautiful! 'Bye, Bonnie!"
About ten minutes later the phone rang. Jack answered. Whoever it was, hung up. Bonnie, he thought, and told Sandra to get it next time.
It rang again an hour later. Jack stood just behind Sandra, fondling her bottom, while she answered. "Oh, hi B ... what? No, he went out He ... what? Oh." Sandra thumped him with her butt, lowering her voice. "Yes, Bonnie, it's true. He has. a tape recording he made, too. He did? Oh boy. Well, you'd better show up. Listen, Jack's my brother, and he's okay. But he's got us. He said what?" Sandra chuckled. "Well, you know what that means. Hmm? Oh, come off it, Bonnie. That's why you're in the club. You love to ball, and you know it, and so do I. So dates don't work that way, so it's against the rules. Well, you'd better show up, honey, unless you're not afraid for your parents or the principal or somebody to hear that tape."
A moment's silence while Sandra listened, then she laughed.
"Yeah, he sure has! You'll see!"
She hung up, chuckling, and turned to grasp his wrists. "She'll be here. What're you going to do?"
He shrugged. "I'll think about it. Stay out of this one."
"Aw w-www ... Jack...."
Jack slapped her hips. She winced, looking reproachfully at him.
"Don't argue with me, Sandra! And tonight you get balled from behind, with your body hanging over the exercise bar in the basement."
She chewed her hp. "Oh ... Jack...."
"That's after the five lashes, of course. And don't bother pretending that seeing Laura get that tail-whopping didn't turn you on! Here's your chance to see how you like it!"
She sighed. "Okay, Master. But ... if you're going to whip Bonnie too, it ought to be on those big jugs of hers. She's got a lot more tit than butt!"
So, a few hours later, Jack bound his sister over the exercise bar with her butt sticking nearly straight up and her tits hanging. And he whipped each, five times, with a wooden ruler. An hour or two after that, up in bed, she told him she'd rather liked the ass-whipping and could have handled more of it very nicely, but the cracks on the breasts were far more pain than sex.
"And you'd-have wished that on poor Bonnie, hmm?"
She cuddled close. "Not now. Don't beat her poor juggies, Jack."
I'm still thinking about it," Jack told her.
Then it was the end of the week, and John Huffman came home and they saw their mother, and John and Jack had their talk, and John went back to Wallingford and the hospital. And it was Sunday afternoon, and Jack was waiting. The doorbell rang. He looked at his watch. It was twenty-nine minutes past two. Smiling, he went to let Bonnie in.
She stood there staring at him. Her eyes were very large and very blue. Her hair was blonde, curly, and cropped too closely for her size. Her size was large.
"Well, hello, Bonnie darling, come on in and take off all that hot clothing!"
She stared at him. Her lip trembled. She walked past him and stood in the little hallway just outside the living room, looking forlorn. He came up behind her and took her by the shoulders. She was trembling.
"Do ... do you really have a tape recording of ... of that night?"
"Yes," he said to the back of her head. "You want to hear it?"
She shuddered. "No. And you really saw us."
"Uh-huh. Red nipples and everything. I love the way you don't have much fur on your pretty little slit, Bonnie. It's very pretty."
Her trembling increased, and suddenly he realized that she was shaking, and then she began to cry. She seemed much smaller, all warm and female, and he held onto her quaking shoulders, frowning.
Guiding her into the living room, he sat her down in the big easy chair straight across from the TV. He pulled another one close and leaned to her. She was hunched forward, quaking and jerking with her bitter sobs. He rubbed her large round shoulder. He was sure she leaned it into his hand.
"Come on, come on, quit that now. What's the matter, Bonnie? Good Christ, you're not afraid of me, are you?"
She shook her head. And cried awhile longer. Then she broke it off, gulping and jerking, and got her eyes dried and her nose blown with a handful of tissues out of her coat pocket. She looked at him, blinking hard and chewing her lip. "I'm so ashamed!"
"Of being in the Venus Club? It seems a marvelous idea, really, although I agree that some people wouldn't agree!"
She started crying again, hunching over. Jack wound up on the arm of the chair with his arm around her, then halfway down into the chair with her while they held each other, and then they began kissing and pressing warmly against each other.
He had never had such an armful before. It was nice, unexpectedly nice. She was extremely soft, everywhere, and her flesh gave under his fingers. The big-busted blonde was far from fat, but she might well be, eventually, if she didn't fight hard after she was married and maybe had a kid or two. Right now-she was voluptuous. He hadn't really realized that a girl so big could be" so excitingly sexy.
He stopped tasting salt as her tears vanished. They began panting and moving their hands all over each other. She was pressing herself hard against him, if there could be anything hard about the actions of so soft a body. Saving them for later, he hardly touched her big thrusting knockers.
Very hot and panting hard, she pulled away from him and stared at him with wondering eyes.
"God, I ... I want you!"
He squeezed her waist "Great! That's sure and hell mutual!"
She shook her head in wonder. "But...." She glanced down at her wrist "We've been sitting here an hour!"
He smiled. "I hadn't noticed, but okay, if you say so. Time passes fast when you're having fun."
She had to laugh, but she sobered quickly. "But ... no one else ... I mean ... I've never done this before!"
"You ... what? Come on, Bonnie. I know, remember? Venus Club, right? You ain't no sweet li'l virgin!"
"I know, I know, but I mean I've never just sat and made out before, like everybody else! I ... I...." She looked down. "Nobody wants to just hug with me. I'm too big. Nobody in our class is as big as I am ... except Agnes, who's just gross. Not even any of the boys! They just ... they've always ... just passed me up! I know they stare at my b-breasts, and they've always wanted to get their hands on them. But this, I mean like just ... kissing and all ... not even my parents. ." She burst out crying again, noisily. "Nobody loves meeeee!"
Much surprised, Jack decided to push it. "No one ... what? Oh, come on, Bonnie! What the hell ... what about your parents?"
"My sister's ten years younger," she whimpered. "She wasn't an accident, though, and ... and she gets all the attention. Mother...." she choked on a gurgling sob. "Mother teases me about my size!"
"Why the bitch!"
She trembled. "The same thing with the kids at school. 'Big Bonnie,' they call me! Do ... do you know how many dates I've had? I'm almost seventeen years old, and I'm a woman! And I've had a whole great big two da-a-ates!" And she was weeping again.
"I hate to get into a discussion of your size," he said, folding her in his arms, "but I hope you don't mind if I say I dig hell out of your size, Bonnie!"
"You ... you do?" She gulped. "You're just saying that."
"You," he said firmly, but continuing to hold and stroke her like a frightened animal, "are just a little too anxious to feel sorry for yourself. You get a compliment, groove on it! Grab it! Don't question."
She sighed and burrowed close, holding him tightly. "Jack? How ... how come you haven't played with my ... titties?"
Stroking her broad back, he chuckled. "I just haven't got around to that yet."
"That's all any other boys ever seem to notice about me. They look at my bust and ... and lick their chops, like hungry dogs."
"In the first place, I'm not a boy. In the second ... swell! Think of all the skinny chestless girls who envy you."
"Nobody envies me!" Her voice was barely audible; her mouth was buried against his shirt.
"Oh shit. I'm tired of that crap, Bonnie. You get too damned much enjoyment out of wallowing around in self-pity. Feeling sorry for yourself has got to be your thing so much you can't think of anything else. Now shut it off!" He grinned. "Stifle yourself, woman!"
"Yes sir."
"Open my shirt."
"Yes sir." With warm, trembling fingers, she opened his shirt, to the waist. She slid her hand inside, on his muscular belly. He felt her breath on his chest.
"Suck my titties," he said in the same stern tone.
"What? Suck ... you don't have any titties!" she cried in an almost-laughing voice.
He swung his hand up and down, whopping one of her big buttocks through her skirt. She yipped and jerked against him. Raising his hand to the back of her head, he gripped it, turned it, and aimed it at one of his pebbly little nipples.
"Don't be superior, just because God was in a good mood the day you were born and you got put down in the book for double portion of bosom! Suck my nipples. Let me feel some tongue, flicking fast."
"You ... you like that?" she murmured, close to one little red extrusion of his chest.
He slapped her ass again. Immediately she began licking and kissing and sucking his nipple. Her head moved over to the other one, her soft blonde hair tickling over his chest. Her hands tried to find purchase in his leanness as she gripped him tightly and burrowed ever closer. She tongued and sucked at his chest as though he had something there to suck. It had never ceased to amaze him that females were so damned dumb. They grooved on having their nipples sucked and fingered-what the hell made them think a man was any different? So he had less there to mess with. They were still sensitive!
Very sensitive. What she was doing was very nice. She was obviously enjoying herself, too, and noting his enjoyment. He was kissing in her hair, liking its fragrant aroma, while his hands trailed little pressures over her thigh and back.
Their mutual arousal rose steadily. The things she did with hands and mouth, the things he did, awakened her sexual instincts until little sighs of pleasure escaped her and she trembled with an all-over tingling that made her very warm.
They both grew too warm for clothing.
They took it off.
"Bra and pants too," he said, gazing at her.
She glanced down at the little puddle of clothing at her feet, then around the room; a big white-skinned blonde girl with a big stuffed-looking white bra trying to contain the uncontainable and pretty little lace-edged white nylon panties that were stretched so taut around her large round thighs that the big lump of her cunt in the center was almost obscene in its thrust.
"Here? In the living room?"
"Here. I said strip. After that well go down to the basement for a Venus-Apollo celebration. Naked. With me following. I want to watch that beautiful tail of yours swing and jiggle as you go down the steps."
His words made her shiver. She touched her pants, then her bra, in momentary indecision as to which should go first.
"The bra first," he said. "Save the best for last."
She seemed to glow with pleasure as she opened her bra and decanted her breasts. The final motion of dropping her bra flipped her preposterously developed jugs out to shake and quiver like bowls of thick cream. With dollops of nutmeg on top. He pretended only mild interest in the great flopping balls of her chest. She thought they were all she had, all that males noticed about her. He'd just show her otherwise!
Then she peeled off her panties. She returned his gaze a little embarrassedly, her upper teeth making a little crease in her lower lip.
Her heavy bulging mound was beautiful, lightly furred with very curly hair so blonde it was almost white. The close-seamed lips of her pussy's narrow pink slash were clearly visible and very inviting.
He got out of his shorts, let her eyes take in the handsome length of his prick, hardened into a turgid red rammer and throbbing boldly before his belly. Then he walked to her, carrying his clothes, and told her to pick up hers. She did, and they went to the basement. Watching the pistoning of her big, almost snowy-white ass as she descended was just as satisfying and exciting as he had expected it to be.
A few steps from the bottom, Bonnie paused and glanced back. "Jack?"
He slipped a hand up under one big outstanding globe of her butt. Very outstanding. "Hm?"
"I sort of like the way you ... tell me to do things. Funny. Like ... uh, like I was a slave or something. I never thought about it before. I'll bet some slaves liked it, or found out they had after they were freed. I mean ... it's attention and like you're wanted!"
"You going to start that again? Get your beautiful naked ass down into the scene of your use, little slave girl!" He gave the nether curve of her big ass cheek a small slap. It bounced.
His words made her wiggle in pleasure. Then: Little!"
He gave her cheek a harder upslap. "Do not question your master's words, slave girl!"
"Yes sir," she yipped, and they went on down. She hesitated at the bottom of the steps; he prodded her forward until they were standing at the exercise mat. It had certainly been the scene of a lot of highly erotic exercise, he thought with a little smile. They dropped their clothing.
"Kneel, slave, and bestow a loving kiss of slavish submission on your master's cudgel!" he snapped.
Smiling, she dropped to her knees, a movement that bounced her overgrown milk-jugs so high he had a fleeting thought: he wondered if she could suck her own nipples....
But then she was slipping a warm hand up under his erect cudgel, fondling the balls, and bending her face forward to plant the commanded kiss on the head of his cock.
"Open wide," he said, "I want to inspect your teeth."
She opened wide. He pushed his cock into her face. Her eyes widened and stared at his face.
"My prick," he told her, "is conducting the examination. Perhaps you noticed that it has an eye in its tip. Um-hmm," he breathed, rocking his hips a little to prod his prick around inside her mouth. It was richly warm and wet in there. He slipped it out, slowly, waited until she had begun to close her mouth, and poked it in again. Instantly she opened wide. He began pumping, not vigorously, merely sliding his hard-on in and out of the sweet hole of her face.
She began to cooperate, her mouth clasping and loosening, her tongue flickering and slithering over the hard thick prong. He pushed until she felt the tip of that lovely pulsating erection deep in her mouth, threatening her throat.
Sliding it out again, he squatted down facing her and they kissed, she kneeling and he on his haunches, their hands at each other's waists while their mouths opened and tongues slipped about in an exchange of oscule caresses, each within the mouth of the other.
He drew back. "Turn around slave, on hands and knees. Your master wishes to fondle and cushion himself on your beauteous ass whilst he crams his cock up your pretty pussy!"
She shivered as his words struck deliciously home, a mingling of the prettily poetic and the coarsely crude. But a little frown pulled her brows together.
"From ... behind? But...." Her hands slipped up to cup the undersurfaces of her capacious breasts. She glanced down. "You don't want to ... lie on me? Feel my ... play with my...?"
"With such a magnificent bottom and sweet little cunt that shows its lips like yours, slave girl, why should I waste time with those bubbies?"
"I...." She looked appealingly at him. "Your slave is used to it, master! Everybody likes my titties!"
"Every ... what? There have been other men before I bought you from that slippery salesman for a million dollars and, I thought, worth every penny? Ha! I shall have to have Igor the eunuch redden your beautiful hind cheeks for that, girl!" He raised his head imperiously. "Fuck your tits!"
She started to turn around.
"Wait ... wait, slave. I have decided to name you for a sweet confection, by the way-Bon-bon, that will do nicely. I'll have the slavemaster brand that on your bottom tomorrow! Meanwhile ... hm. Fuck your tits, eh? Well, since you're so proud of them ... He straightened with a flexing of his legs and walked over to the couch and tables at the end of the big basement room. She twisted to look after him.
"Jac ... um, master? What...?"
"Silence, slave, question not your master!" The bottle of lotion was right where he had put it, naturally, since he had put it there in anticipation of her visit. Everything was working out beautifully. She was practically begging him to do just what he had wanted to do the moment he'd seen her down here, naked, that marvelous night: fuck her tits!
But contrary to what he had read in some of his parents' books, the silky skin of breasts would soon feel hard enough to skin a cock, after a bit of screwing between the masses. Mouth, ass, cunt ... all were provided with some sort of juices, as well as slippery, membranous inner skin to caress a cock. Hell, he'd skinned the damned thing once with his own hand, and surely he knew how to handle himself!
He returned to her and stood over her, opening the bottle while she knelt and watched with large wondering eyes.
"Hold up those vaunted breasts of yours!"
"Master...."
"Bon-bon! Obey, and quickly!"
She scooped up her pneumatic tits in both hands and lifted them, nestling fleshy demiglobes closely together. She shivered when he poured a dollop of cold lotion onto them.
"Cold!"
"Hush!" He watched the slimy white stuff seep into the tight crack between the big pink-tipped balls. "Now lie back, and continue to hold them in place! Your master will take your bosom's cherry ... a hymen you didn't even know you had!"
She lay back, still frowning, obviously never having thought of such an action. She hung onto her massy jugs. The lotion spread thickly, glistening. Her thighs lay apart. He made her squeal and jerk as though struck when he planted a firm kiss on the bulging hump of her pubis. Lifting his lips from it and ignoring her silent, squirming pleas for more, he patted that firm mons.
"That's all for you, hungry hole! It's the slippery tunnel of this titty-proud slave that gets fucked!" He moved upward.
She opened her mouth. "Ja-Master----"
"Hush, slave! Be silent. Your master's busy and doesn't wish to be disturbed!" He bestrode her upper body with the big bar of his sex throbbing above her breasts. "Relax your hold ... let them apart."
She did. Her beautiful milky tits eased apart. The valley between them, both its chesty floor and the soft curving walls formed by her lovegourds, glistened with lotion. Bending forward, he guided his cock in between them.
"Now push them together over it."
She blinked, then smiled and did so. She smiled again, pushing her tits firmly together to encompass his prick in warm, soft, lotion-slimy flesh. Smiling back at her, he plied his cock in and out between the warm white mounds, luxuriating in the supple litheness of that encircling tit flesh. They formed a slippery, smoldering crack that encompassed his stiff, lengthy meat in a sensual bondage.
"Oh ... umm. Where ... where'd you learn this?"
"Nowhere. No one else has enough bosom to make it possible," he told her. "The sight of yours and the obvious way you love them inspired me! Now just move them about, keep kneading and pressing and relaxing your fingers, so I can feel them alive around me. Lord, it's beautiful!"
She did, keeping her hands constantly amove, so that the tunnel of her tits became a live hot sex hole all around his sliding cock.
"Press hard! Hurt yourself! Press hard ... slave!
She did, straining so that her arms quivered. His penis was a hard urgent weight on her chest, throbbing against the inner contours of the voluptuous mounds enclosing it, caressing the soft inward surfaces. Her breath came in fluttering gasps that flared her nostrils. She was straining to look down at this activity that was new to her, and exciting. He felt her mounded belly moving beneath his butt.
He began pistoning into the canyon her hands forced her distorted breasts to form. His buttocks swerved over her stomach. She gasped.
His glowing cockstaff ran up and down the long crack, nearly touching her lips with each thrilling thrust between her jugs. The bosomy tunnel, he knew, was less slick and warm than her cunt, less moist than her cunt, less constricting than cunt or mouth or anus. But there was a psychologically sensuous pleasure in this act: the illusion of screwing her in the fat white jiggly swollen pink-tipped teasing globes he loved, into their arrogant thrust and firmness.
She strained her arms to keep them together around him. Her fingers writhed restlessly, dimpling the malleable flesh. She watched his hairy crotch as it came forward to tickle her breasts, then receded, to return again with a spearing of his beautiful dick through the artificial tunnel.
Their softness was a caress all along his cock, the firm elasticity of them a challenge and a delight to feel and see.
He pushed far and pulled slowly, exhilarated, then reached down to close his hands over hers. His hands crushed hers inward. His fingers dug into hillocks made of sweet milky tit flesh. She moaned and he smiled, knowing he was hurting her with his hard hands forcing hers to mash her plump hills of breast together, squeezing and crushing them out of shape and form to create this tight hot prison for his lunging prick.
He started shoving harder, smashing himself against the undersides of the tight-pressed balls. She moaned, then curved her lips in a little smile when she saw the slippery-looking, knobby end of his cock come running out of the titty-tunnel to challenge her face.
She licked it. She grinned up at him. "Sweet!"
"The lotion," he said, fucking her tits. "It's a sweet cock!"
"It's terribly excited and wants in you."
"Put it in! Put it in!"
"What, slave?"
"Oh please, master," she smiled, "put your lovely cocky into your slave and fuck her cockeyed!"
"Into her bulgy slimy cunt hole?" She shivered. "Yes!"
"Say it."
"Stick it up my ... my bulgy slimy cunt hole! Please!"
He whipped his prick free, squeezed her hands a last time, and backed swiftly down her prostrate body. Her legs leaped delightedly apart. He felt the head of his excited cock slip over the brink of her pubic bone, course over soft, softly furred flesh. He shoved, hard.
"Ugh! Unnnnnn ... gh-aah!"
The soft damp lips had dropped open and writhed back out of the way as he plunged easily between them. His prick was slippery with lotion and sweat Her cunt was slippery with her own lubrication. He rammed home in an instant.
Kneeling above her, he pushed until it hurt. Her slit was stretched to rub hard against the upper surface of his cock's base. He knew the pressure on her squirmy clit was immense.
Gasping, she ground herself back against him, upward, and her hands came rushing upward to scratch at his chest, then seize his pebbly little nipples. He saw that her own were high and hard, standing above finger-marked mountains of snow.
Lowering his weight onto her, feeling the unbelievable firm pressure of her breasts beneath his chest, he leaned first this way and then that working his hands under her to grip her jerking ass cheeks-and incidentally scouring every inner surface of her clutching pussy with his swinging cock. His dong donged about in her like the clapper of a bell.
He worked his hands inward. Then a finger skidded into the hot crack between her buttocks. Her eyes bulged suddenly; his finger was forcing its way up into her. She groaned and leaned a little sideward, easing the pressure. Up came her legs to give him greater access. In went his finger, past the first knuckle.
"Unnngh! Ah ... ah, ah!" Her mouth hung open and her eyes sparkled.
The flesh within her asshole was incredibly tight, profoundly soft and warm. Smiling, he stiffened his finger and pushed some more, feeling the strong jaws of her anal muscles grab him and clench. The muscular sphincter squeezed and gripped him until he felt his finger must be the same color as her tits, paper-white and bloodless.
He held it there and rammed with his pelvis, trying to pound it into the finger in her constricting asshole, trying to jam both probes deeper and ever deeper into her hot flesh.
Glorying in the feel of her beneath him, in the cushioning softness of her fleshy vulva above the tight satin of her working thighs, in the fantastically firm upthrust of her tits, he fucked her till her eyes rolled.
The cheeks of her ass quivered convulsively beneath her as his body pounded them down into the mat-and pounded his finger up her rectal hole. Her swimmingly wet pussy swallowed every inch of the full, bloated shaft of his prick. She was writhing beneath him in salacious spasms.
She took him by surprise. Suddenly her eyes bulged, her face growing almost ugly. Then it went all beautiful and she began sighing in a high, keening voice. Sweat sprang out in bright beads all over her. She went very tense, then came with a cry and a surging upward lunge. The involuntary movement forced his finger out of her anal track, but his prick rammed into her cervix with a jar that made her cry out again and sent a flare of pain leaping up his deeply imbedded pole.
Then orgasmic tremors and contractions seized her pussy, and it began clamping hard. She became a milking machine for cock.
Just as she toppled over the brink of the pinnacle of ecstasy, he started coming. Semen gismed into her. A series of shuddering convulsions deep inside his drum-tight scrotum sent his sperm gushing forth in a flood of thick white syrup that filled her cunt and welled up and spurted out to boil over onto the exercise mat.
At last, with a moist, sucking sound, his deflating cock slithered from between the soft folds of her cunt.
Her vagina contracted chaotically, again and again. Sperm dribbled out of the sodden, ravaged hole. She lay still and spraddle-legged as if pole axed.
"Now about those lashes across your ass cheeks, girl," he said, rather weakly.
"Uh ... oh, did you ... say that Ig ... Igor is a ... a eunuch, master?" she panted.
"Yes, poor fellow. Got his balls jerked right off between a beautiful girl's beautiful big tits, once." He rolled onto his side and palmed one of hers. There was considerably more soft-skinned and firm-fleshed meat there than his hand could cover.
She chuckled. "Then he wouldn't get excited, giving me a spanking, would he?"
"No, that's the beauty of having him about." He squeezed her breast. "Bought him from Vincent Price."
"Well ... umm, might I beg my sweet master to lay on the punishment himself, then?"
"Hmm. It would probably excite him so much he'd have another hard-on, up to the neck," he said reflectively.
"Yeah," she said, and rolling over, she humped up her big white bottom. She wiggled it