Chapter 6
Panting, moaning, Ken Parker worked his cock in his bride's tight pussy. She clutched at him with hot, desperate hands, and he saw her trying t smile, but he knew that she was uncomfortable that she wasn't enjoying his lovemaking. Her cunt gripped him in a tight, dry clutch and his cock felt as if it were being skinned alive. "I'm sorry, darling," he apologized, stroking gently as he could.
Barbie twisted beneath him, her twat clenching his prick. Her lower lips bore teeth marks, when she'd chewed to keep from crying out, and the sight saddened him.
Soft music played from a wall speaker romantic, lush, with silky string passages, and half-empty magnum of champagne stood in an ic bucket on the room-service table. They'd flow here from Kennedy last night, via Nassau and shuttle copter. Perhaps if they'd stayed overnight in New York, it might have been better.
Perhaps there was something inherently unromantic about consummating a marriage in the middle of the afternoon. But he knew better.
Barbie had been a virgin when he met her at the hospital, and it had taken weeks of courtship before she surrendered her cherry to him one evening at his apartment. Her first fuck wasn't entirely satisfactory, but they were so much in love it didn't matter. And besides, she'd told him as she wiped away little pearly tears, women never enjoyed it the first time. Later, when the pain was gone...
He wondered if it was something he was doing. Was his sexual technique too rough? Lorna had never complained, but Lorna was a perverted nymphomaniac with an incest complex. Barbie was sweet and pure and innocent. She simply didn't know, not yet, how to respond to a man's fucking. But she'd learn. He'd help her, and together they would make this marriage perfect in every way.
Perfect. Why was she crying now, then?
"I'll stop," he said sincerely. "Here, let me take it out."
"N-N-No," Barbie sobbed, her green eyes misty with tears. She clutched at his shoulders. "Please, Ken, go ahead. It really doesn't hurt. I'm just crying b-b-because I'm so-so-happy!"
And she gave him a smile so brave his heart ached in sympathy. Beneath him, she twitched in what was meant to be an enticing manner, but her facial muscles tightened as the pole of his prick throbbed inside her constricted cunt.
"Ohhhhhhhh," she moaned involuntarily, closing her eyes.
Ken pushed gingerly with his dick, wincing when he saw the pain on her face. In spite of himself, he couldn't help recalling how it had been last night. With his sister, for God's sake! The way Lorna had moaned for it, the way she'd grabbed his cock, stroked it, petted it, played with it, teased its head in and out of her dripping twat before allowing him to thrust inside nuts-deep. The vibrant, electric energy of her body wrapped around his. The expert flicking of her tongue around and around the shaft and head of his dick. The way she swallowed his cock to the very root and sucked the sperm out of him like a sexual vampire.
"I love you, Barbie," he whispered, damning himself for wishing that his bride had one half his sister's sexual hunger. Damning himself for remembering, for knowing....
"Oh, Christ!" he yelped, plunging furiously, not thinking of what he was doing. It was a desperate stabbing thrust, one that derived its power from the mental demons he needed to exorcise, and Barbie wasn't ready for it. She screamed, her face so white the freckles on her nose looked like smallpox.
He felt her body convulse beneath him-convulse from pain, not from ecstasy-and he groaned in sick shame. As delicately as he could Ken extracted his cock from her pussy.
"I'm sorry, dear," he said in a weak, shamed voice, dismounting Barbie.
She was still crying, and he wished he could cry with her. Not for anything on earth would he have hurt her, but he had hurt her and he couldn't take it back now.
"Let's forget about it for the present," he suggested. "Here. Let me get you some champagne
And later we'll go down to dinner. Maybe afterwards, when we're both relaxed-"
"Oh, damn it," Barbie sobbed, "do you think it will be any better then?" She touched her slit, shivering as her finger rubbed the dry, aching gash. "There's something wrong with me," she told him. "I mean something really wrong. How can you even sit beside me . . ."
She looked at him. Her eyes implored his forgiveness, but he couldn't hold her at fault. Barbie looked down. His cock was standing up, its shaft and tip scarlet, rubbed raw by the unwilling tightness of her cunt.
"Oh, and look at you!" she went on. "Look what I've done! It's always this way, darling. I lead you on, but I can't deliver, and you're frustrated and-"
She touched his cock. He groaned, for his meat was sore with its stiffness and hungry with its need for relief.
"At least I can do this much for you," Barbie sighed, closing her fist around his prick-shaft. She shut her eyes as well, as if she couldn't bear to look at what she was doing now, as if she were ashamed that she was jacking him off.
They'd gone to bed six times before their marriage. Twice Ken had persisted in fucking until his cock gushed inside her pussy, though a helpful condom prevented his seed from entering her womb. The other four times-the last four times-it had ended up this way. His cock aching and unfulfilled Barbie sobbing as she masturbated him to the climax her twat denied.
At least she was getting some more jerk-off experience. The first time she'd been clumsy and fumble-fingered, but now her hand felt almost natural wrapped around his cock, sliding the loose outer shell of skin up and down. Indeed, she approached a certain sensuality of motion which made Ken shift his buttocks in pleasure. He reached down to touch her hand as she masturbated him.
"Yes, honey, yes! Do it nice and slow and easy. Do it for me. I love you."
"And I love you, too," she panted, her bare, small-nippled tits jiggling as her hand action grew a delightful degree faster.
Ken's balls ached from his need, and the stones rolled in their sac as his bride applied a wrist-flicking stroke at the proper time. He put his hands on her tits, kneading the angel-like blossoms of her breasts, feeling the nipples hard but cold between his fingers. No matter how much he squeezed the paps, no matter how vigorously he pulled on their rubbery extensions, they' seemed to remain cold, unfeeling. He thought of the large pink smears adorning Lora's boobs, of the hot nipples which lifted from those pink buds at the slightest provocation, and he could remember sucking and licking them a hundred-a thousand-times. The cries of joy she made as his tongue scraped her nips. The way her legs would twitch, then spring apart to make room for his hand or his cock. And the steaming juices which oozed from Lorna's pussy whenever she even thought about being screwed.
"Barbie," he said. "Barbie, Barbie, Barbie!" as if the repetition of her name could banish the troublesome thoughts in his traitorous mind. "I want to love you. I want you to love me."
"I do," she whispered, "I do. So much, Ken. So very, very much."
Her tits, round and hard in his hands. His cock, throbbing inside her stroking fist. A hell of a way to celebrate a marriage. But it would get better. It had to get better. He loved her desperately, he needed her desperately. Only the treasure of her could save him from the swamp into which Lorna had been dragging him.
God! It was disgusting how every train of thought led inexorably to Lorna. Barbie's soft lips on his only reminded him that Lorna kissed hotly, wetly, her tongue busy and active from the first brushing of mouths. Barbie's valiant struggles to endure his cock's entrance brought to mind his sister's sluttish eagerness, the way her legs were always open, her cunt always sloppy and ripe to be fucked. No! He had to think about the future, not the past. Of how it would be when Barbie overcame her initial nervousness, when she got adjusted to the joys and pleasures of sex and marriage. Soon, he told himself. Very soon. And-
"Ahhh!!" he groaned, lifting upward as his cock exploded and streamed cum all over his bride's clutching fist. He reached for her hand with his own, locking around her, locking her into place, and his prick swelled and shuddered and gushed in her grip, until his hand and her own were wet and sticky with his ejaculation, as was the sheet beneath them. It was a hot, thick cum, more ferocious than he'd have imagined before it struck, and he wished to God that he'd been plunging into his wife's greasy, loving twat instead of being jerked off like a high-school boy with a reluctant date.
"Thank you, darling," he said softly. "Would you like some champagne?"
"No, not now. I have to go "to the bathroom."
To wash her hands of his cum, he knew, though she wouldn't insult him by saying so. Ken watched his wife as she arose from the bed and moved across the floor towards the bathroom. She was beautiful. A fresh wholesome face, set off perfectly by her green eyes and freckles and the close-cropped reddish hair. A lithe, lovely body. Not as exuberantly developed as Lorna's, perhaps, and certainly Barbie wasn't about to turn up as a Penthouse cover girl. Well, it was Penthouse's loss. Her tits were small, high, round, and firm, exquisite to touch, to kiss, to feel bare and rubbing against his own bare chest. Her hips were slim but solid, too, and the legs long in proportion to the rest of her body. She was a little over five feet tall, but perfectly arranged On her small frame, and her body was poetry in motion. Inside that body was a tender, loving woman, one whom he wished to keep beside him all the days of their lives, to bear his children, to grow old with him. Was it such a futile dream?
He touched his cock, depleted now, but in him there stirred the beginnings of renewed desire and he took his hand away quickly. He couldn't impose himself upon Barbie again, not so soon after the episode just completed. Later, when they'd napped, when they'd gone down to dinner. Later. He'd turn down the lights. Perhaps they could go out on the balcony and watch the stars twinkling in the Caribbean sky. And it would happen, as it must.
She'd nestle in his arms as the night breeze blew from the sea, and they'd speak soft, tender words of endearment. She would raise her lips innocently, opening them slightly for his kiss, and her tits would spring into his hands as if by magic. Their bodies would come together, warm, hungry, needing, and when he he touched her between the legs, he would find her cunt moist and open, the petals dripping with dew. Into that cunt he would move slowly, warming her, arousing her gradually, with the velvety tip of his cock. She'd make little humming cries of surprise as the pleasure of fucking first swept across her, as she realized how grand it could be. And then his prick, slipping deeper, finding her interior already awash with lubrication. Her heart beating against his chest, his heart thumping in reply.
He could see it so clearly. He could feel the eagerness of her body, smell the aroma of her hair, of her aroused pussy, hear the whining little cries of excitement, of involvement, and at last of fulfillment. It was as if he'd already done it, as if-
"Oh my God," he said, scarlet with shame. He had done it. That time he and Lorna went to Florida for a shameful, degraded vacation orgy. He was remembering Lorna, not anticipating Barbie. He was an animal, a vicious beast who didn't deserve the treasure of Barbie's love. Perhaps he should confess it to her. All the sordid details. But would she understand? Would she realize that he was only an innocent child, seduced by a hot, horny older sister who had apparently been born without the slightest fiber of morality in her beautiful body? Or would she look at him with the stricken disgust he now felt toward himself? He didn't know, and he couldn't afford to make a wrong guess. If he was honest, fine. But what if it cost him Barbie?
She came out of the bathroom, smiling, her hands damp from the sink. "I'm still tired, Ken," she said. "Would it be all right if I took another nap? And would you hold me very close while I sleep? Darling, I want to be a good wife to you, and I have to know that you love me. In spite of-in spite of the way I am-"
She appeared to be on the verge of tears again, and his heart went out to her. Ken pulled her onto the bed with him, hugging her to his chest. The nearness of her beautiful body caused a stirring of interest in his cock, but he willed the impulse away, concentrating instead upon holding her in his arms. Her hair was soft and fragrant against his face and he burrowed through the reddish locks, pressing his lips to her earlobe. She quivered in his arms, sniffling. He eased onto his side, taking Barbie with him, and she put her head to rest on his chest. In a moment she was asleep.
As Tony had advised Lorna the night before, Santa Catarina was an island on the verge of discovery. The Governeur Hotel, the only one on Santa Cat, was about half-filled at the moment, with a sprinkling of tourists and visitors from
Europe and Canada and the States. The village of Princess Royal was still unspoiled, though it couldn't last long. Major travel magazines were preparing articles on this island hideaway, and before much longer casinos and yachts and commercialism would reign in full sway. At the moment, however, it was a delightful, isolated place to spend a honeymoon. Tomorrow, perhaps, he'd take her fishing. Boats could be chartered. They might combine a fishing trip with a sightseeing tour of the nearby waters. Oh, there was a week's time free for them. They could do anything, everything. And soon their life would be perfect in every way.
As Barbie dressed for dinner, in a conservative pantsuit, Ken watched her from the bed. Her bra was almost transparent, a mere wisp of fabric containing her breasts. He could see the small brown points of her nipples as clearly as if she were bare-titted in front of him, and he loved those nipples so much he couldn't repress a sigh when she slipped into her tunic top.
She went into the bathroom to check her makeup and he followed. As she smoothed on her lipstick, he tried to imagine his wife's mouth opening to receive his cock. She'd never done that for him, nor for anyone else. Someday, perhaps, but the idea frightened her and he didn't want to rush things. She couldn't know how much he loved to have his cock sucked, how much he loved in turn to eat a pussy. Lora had taught him that.
Again, Lorna. Was there no escaping her memory? "Lady," he said to his wife, speaking a little louder than he should have, to mask the tension in his mind, "you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Anywhere, anyplace, anytime. And to know that you are mine, all mine, is-"
"Barbie laughed shyly. "I'm not ever pretty," she said. "You're just talking that way because there's no one around to compare me with. God, I wish I had Lorna's face and figure! Your sister is incredible-looking, Ken. I'm sorry I didn't meet her long ago. Maybe, though-maybe she can help me do something with the yucky gifts nature left under my Christmas tree."
She was selling herself short, he wanted to say, but he couldn't speak at all. Her mention of Lorna was like a cold-bladed knife straight to the heart.
"There!" Barbie announced finally. "I don't think I'll frighten the rest of the guests now. Shall we go down to eat?"
The elevator was right out of a 40s film and Ken did Bogart impressions "on their way down. Barbie laughed in all the right places and she kissed him with a surprising intensity just as the lift came to a stop on the proper floor. She strained against him, arms clutching, her tits alive within the tunic and bra, and he groaned, feeling his desire build. Here, he thought. Here. Right in the goddamned elevator! He should lay her down upon the floor, strip away her slacks and white panties, and mount her for their first real marriage fuck.
The urge clung, stirring blood into his cock, and she held him tighter, straining her arms to encompass him. Her tummy and cunt-mound rubbed him suggestively and passionate desire was a white flame in his chest.
"No," he said finally, unclenching her arms from around his neck. "If someone opened the door and saw us like this, we'd probably be thrown out of the hotel."
He laughed, to underline the joke, but it was a hollow laugh. Barbie stepped back, running a hand across her cheek.
"I don't know what got into me," she said, "For a moment I- But you're right. We'd better go."
Together they entered the dining room. A white-haired Negro waiter, solemn in his age and dignity, approached. "Table for two, sir?"
Ken nodded, then felt Barbie tugging at his sleeve.
"Look," she whispered. "Doesn't that woman remind you of your sister? The one by the window. They say, though, that everyone has a double somewhere."
Ken followed the nod of Barbie's head, and then he wasn't listening to his young wife at all. It was not a resemblance that had caught her eye. It was an identity. That was Lorna. Oh, Christ! he swore silently, wanting to turn and flee, but it was too late. She'd seen them. She was rising. She was coming towards them, a smile beaming on her beautiful face, and Ken's heart seemed to die inside him.