Chapter 3
Liz felt gutted but she was still coming, her vagina like a trumpet flower, opening and closing on the long cock that shaped it. She pressed her heels into Jonas' spine and raised a little, rubbing her wide-open twat on his hard loins, then sagged down. A fresh spill of juice slipped out of her hole and ran down her ass and his scrotum.
"Oh, honey!" she murmured. "What a lovely cum!"
"You want another?" He jogged in her, moving just a few inches, but the pressure on her clit drove new waves of heat throughout her belly, and she knew that in a moment she would be humping at him, again grinding through orgasm. Sexually she knew herself pretty well, and now she frowned.
She said, "I do, but, Jonas, when I cum everything goes pink and soft, and I lose track. I mean I slide away from you. I'd rather not cum now. I want to feel what you're doing, you know? I mean the way your cock squishes in and out of me, all that. The trouble is, when you bump my clit I go wild. Suppose I turn over?"
"All right." He drew back and she saw his red cock slide out, dripping juice. When the head was clear it sprang up, so stiff that it seemed to vibrate.
Liz turned over. She got up on knees and elbows. On the wall over the desk she saw a mirror and there she was, ass cocked up, dress bunched around her waist, tits hanging out. Her white stockings and garter belt gleamed. Jonas' enormously long cock stabbed into view, aiming for the fringe of sticky hair below her ass. The bulging red head dipped inside and she felt it stretch her vaginal mouth, reshaping her. He pushed in another inch, and then gave her short, jogging thrusts. His balls swung into view on each stab, one jumping over the other. They sure were big balls. She wondered if Hank Carson's equipment was really any bigger. Just because his penis had been long and fat, when soft it didn't make for a giant erection. Jonas had about all her cunt could take. As a nurse she of course knew how elastic a vagina was, that it would stretch or cling to whatever size of fuck tool was put into it. Anyhow, she had no need for more than that wickedly long curve of bone that Jonas was sliding in and out of her.
She heard her cunt squish, expelling juice and air, and she blushed, but smiled with pleasure, too, proud of being wet and open for Jonas. She watched his scrotum swing in and disappear behind her thigh, flying up to swat her pubic mound, the gentlest of sweet thumpings.
He shoved in, flattening her buttocks. She circled her ass, rotating the long bone of a cock. She watched him back out all the way, the upturned stem and its wide cap twitching, glistening movements in the mirror. She sighed with pleasure on seeing it. She was glad that she had turned over, because the kind of orgasm that she had gotten before was blinding. She quit moving her behind to let him stick it in. There it went, the head spreading her wet-haired cuntal lips, then dashing up the curve of her channel.
When it was in to the root she reached underneath to her pussy and caught his scrotum on the fly. She kneaded it gently, rolling his balls between her fingers.
Jonas groaned. "Baby, that's terrific!"
Smiling, she thumbed into her gash and found her clit. She pressed it and the hot rolling began all over again in her belly, that seething net of fire drawing her vagina tight on the long cock skewering it, until the lively dong felt double-size, and in the mirror Liz's face turned red with coming orgasm.
She moved her hand from the danger spots. Not yet. She didn't want to make him shoot his load yet, or get another orgasm that might paint a rosy fog on the mirror and cut off her view of Liz kneeling in nurse's white stockings and satin-shiny garter belt, a curve of hair showing below her cocked-up ass, and at least seven inches of hard man meat sliding out of that hairy-lipped aperture, pausing to throb once or twice in the cool air, then digging in, sludging through rivulets to the very depths of the hottest little fuck-hole in the hospital.
In deep, he grasped her hips and dug. Loving it, Liz strained back against him. His big organ was throbbing inside her. She savored each pound of his pulse, shutting her eyes to concentrate on it. But she could never be passive. Impish now, she wagged her hips, bending his prick like a tiller. Then she squeezed her vaginal sphincter on the root of it and pulled inside.
Jonas' breath hissed out. "Liz, you'll make me cum off if you do that again!"
She did it again.
"Liz!"
"Jonas, if you're going to blast, let me get on my back."
He nodded and drew the inflamed rod out of , her.
Liz dropped, almost regretting that orgasms would now cut off her view of Jonas fucking her, but she was so hot, her vulva spread out into an oval carmine under the flowing layers of juice, her belly quaking. She seized her white-stockinged knees and pulled them back outside of her breasts. On her back, her tits sloped outward, and between them she could see her white belly fringed with black furriness, and her split muff a broad gap between her thighs.
Into the gap moved the plush-shod wide head of Jonas' penis. He came over her and the head dipped downward, and she could see the whole shank spearing out of his dark cockruff, and his long reddish scrotum loaded with balls. The end slipped into her as easily as a finger. God, she was open! Suddenly she had the whole thing, and shrank her vagina in on it.
"Jonas!" she cried. "Ooohhh, Jonas!" The hard meat in her belly was on fire and swelling up, bloating like a football. Never had she been so full of cock. His loins mashed her clit, spilling molten lava into her, a scalding ooze that inflated the tissues of her vagina until not a hair space remained, and, as the cockbone reamed in and out, her clinging flesh moved with it.
Through a red haze she saw herself in the mirror, her legs cranking through long, hard pulls, straightening out, then the white stockings bending, knees coming back to her tits, leaving her belly split wide open to take all the cock he had. The mouth of her hole was fluttering out to a yawning oval that seemed big enough to take his balls, too.
The mirror view kept flaming out as he socked in on her clit. Between flashes she saw Jonas riding her hard, his muscular body knotting to drive his tool up her hole, his neck muscles cording, his face contorted in a grimace. She read it, all right. The trouble was his wife. He was fucking to get even with Madge, and Liz didn't mind. She hated the bitch. How better could he blow off his resentment than in her willing cunt? Some women disliked being used this way, feeling that it put them down, but in Liz's view they lacked compassion.
"I'm cumming!" he grunted. And Liz felt his prick become stony and double-size. She dug her heels into his back and arched up, whacking her gaping vulva at him, drawing back to cunt-suck his cock as Jonas went rigid all over and he began bucking, lunging through long strokes. His cock-head felt as big as an apple as it roared in and out of her body. Then he let it go.
Liz shrieked as he shot cockspew up her convulsing hole. Fat globs of cream splattered her drooling cavern. She arched up and held herself there bridged, her hips jerking through short, grinding fuck motions as his load flew into the very depths of her being. Her orgasm was as violent as his, her belly gulping at the rampant penis, milking it.
He fired three times, and Liz thought that she had a separate cum on each mighty jolt, but in truth she was so hot, so blinded by orgasm; that she only knew that she had been through one of the best fucks of her whole life.
Jonas had raised up to deliver the contents of his swollen testicles. Now he sagged down on Liz's soft body, panting, burying his lips in her throat. He felt gutted.
His cock was still up her hole, throbbing a little as it spat out the last milks. He felt bodily fluids, hers and his, run out of the mouth of her cunt and dribble down between her ass and his already wet scrotum. Things were liquid as hell down there, every hair and bit of flesh slippery with vaginal slobber.
Liz was a glorious piece of ass and he loved her for it, as well as the other things that she was, but now the kickback of guilt made him shut his eyes and groan. Not because he had been unfaithful to Madge. No. Madge deserved this. But he had used sweet Liz to blow off his anger at his wife, and Liz deserved better. She was a tireless helper, a girl who raised everyone's spirits, and a warm friend to him. If he made love to her it should be because he was crazy about her, not to get even with his wife-and not because Hearne seemed unapproachable.
He felt like a heel.
Liz whispered, "Jonas, I feel so good that if you just kissed my cheek I'd probably cum again." He nuzzled her throat. "I won't. We have to get to work."
She squeezed her thighs in on him and drew her vaginal sphincter tight on his cockstem. Nipped in like that she dug her heels into his back and gave a fuck-jerk. She groaned. "Oooohhhh, there, a spasm. Wow, I'm still cumming, Jonas!"
She humped at him three, four times. Then her breath hissed out as though from a punctured tire, and she collapsed.
At last she said, "You'd better pull out of me. I could lie here all day. Really I could!"
Smiling, he lifted. He looked down between their bodies and. saw his cock rise from her hairy crotch. The stem was dripping, and on it hung gobs of white cockspew. As he climbed off, Liz's legs dropped. They remained sprawled apart, and he saw her twat fur matted down by drool and her gash open, a deep coral in color, like the mouth of her yawning vagina.
He said, "It seems like I've been accumulating semen for months. I sure blew a hell of a lot into you., My balls feel hollow."
She smiled. "It was wonderful, Jonas."
He bent down and kissed her tenderly, saying, "You're a sweetheart, Liz."
He hoped she understood that while he had used her to dispel his frustrations, he was damn fond of her. She meant much more to him than just a quick fuck.
Still, he blamed his wife for triggering this affair. Madge was driving him nuts with her attempts to make him leave the hospital and join that bandit Wilson in the clinic, where he overcharged patients, performed operations to get big fees instead of removing diseased organs, making a mockery of the Hippocratic oath to which all physicians swore.
Screw, Madge, and Wilson, too!
He wondered if they shacked up together.
He knew that Wilson banged his chief nurse, Karen Moore. He also knew that Karen and Madge didn't get along.
Were they jealous of each other, fighting over Wilson?
Karen Moore, R.N., chief nurse and administrative officer of the Wilson Clinic, had a splendid office next to Wilson's, and an extension to his phone.
She had heard it ring. She had picked it up and heard Madge Blake's voice. And now Karen was phone-eavesdropping on her boss.
She heard Madge Blake say, "I'm shopping. I got a few lousy dollars from Jonas. like pulling hen's teeth!"
Dr. Wilson commented mildly, "It was probably all he could afford."
"The miserable salary they pay him!"
"Darling, I've done all I can. I offered him an office here-as you've said, he's a handsome devil and would draw plenty of rich old women...."
"It makes me furious. I bought one dress, just one, didn't even dare look at a new Givenchy skirt and blouse. Well. Harry, I do want to see you."
"Lunch? We could go out to that place on the highway."
"It's too close to town. Somebody would see us there. Besides, Harry, I feel sort of-volcanic, you know? Meet me at the usual spot, we can have food sent in to the room. One o'clock?"
Karen Moore hung up. She could endure no more. That bitch! Already married to a doctor-wanted another! Karen rose and flung open her closet door, which was backed by a full-length mirror. She patted her hair, dark and sleek, cut in bangs. She had flashing greenish eyes and olive skin. She was damn good looking and well-curved. A girl had to be good looking to get Harry Wilson into her bed. She smoothed her uniform, which was tailored to her figure. She wore three changes a day, damn the expense which, in any case, the clinic paid for in pre-tax money. Her position here demanded that she make a good appearance, to say nothing of the need to be number one in Harry Wilson's eyes.
She had long before given up the notion of getting pregnant by him. The bastard would simply give her an abortion on the house. The only way to marry him seemed to be by becoming indispensable, out of bed and in.
She sprang loose the top button of her dress to give him a peek at her tits, and turned to the door leading to his office. She paused at the door, glancing about at her prizes, a rosewood desk and an antique wall clock, mahogany filing cabinets, a white rug "shoe-deep in nap, an abstract painting that had cost two thousand dollars. All had been bought by the clinic, but the accountant had manipulated it into her name, ten thousand bucks worth. But peanuts compared to the ready money that she would have as Mrs. Harry Wilson.
She opened the door. He was still on the phone, a big blonde man whose hair was thinning,' once a football player, and still flat-bellied from sports, a bulging jaw and beady blue eyes. He had charm but not handsomeness, neither of which mattered a damn to Karen. Or, she thought, to Madge Blake, the vile cunt!
He said, "See you then," and hung up and glanced smilingly at Karen.
She said, "I've settled your afternoon appointments. The first is old Mrs. Greenough, at three."
"And those are valuable kidneys," he mused. "Solid gold. Karen, why do you look so luscious today?"
She thought, Because he's been talking to the Blake cunt and his prick is up as hard as a hammer handle, any broad would look good if available. She said. "Because the weather outside is lousy and you can't look out and dream of the golf course or the tennis courts."
"So my mind turns to indoor sports?" He was grinning, eyeing her breasts.
She raised her arms ostensibly to preen her hair, in fact to lift her tits. She advanced to his desk and leaned over to pick up a sheaf of patients' case histories. She lingered in that position, knowing he could see her breasts almost down to the nipples.
He took the bait, the sucker, reaching to the open neck of her dress and stroking the soft flesh. She lifted an eyebrow, saying, "Do you do that to all your employees? "
"Karen, you know I don't cheat on you."
She was too smart to mention Madge Blake. She leaned closer and he forced a hand into her bra and squeezed a firm tit.
"You make me horny," he said.
She thought, I'll milk you dry, give Madge what's left, a soft prick she'll have to suck to make stand up and she'll hate that. She hates men, anyway. Oh, Karen knew the hostility a woman could feel toward men. Her brother had been sent to college, everything paid, while she was told to make it on her own or else get married. Well, she had made it good, a fat salary and a share in Wilson Clinic, Inc., plus gifts of clothing and jewelry from this man whose steady fuck she had been the past two years. She didn't intend to lose it to the frosty beauty of Madge Blake.
Madge had glamour, rose-gold cameo beauty, and a figure like a snake and something extra, an elusiveness that kept men off balance. What the elusiveness amounted to, Karen thought, was lesbianism. Maybe not. She herself liked a hard dick up her hole. If she got well laid a couple of times a week, her mood was good. If not, she was bitchy. So it was hard for her to judge Madge on that score.
Wilson was licking his fattish lips as he kneaded her tit. She could see his cock forming a long ridge in his pants leg. She smiled secretly. She curled an arm around behind her back and squeezed her bra catch, freeing it. The hand he was forcing into her bra cup suddenly had freedom, and Harry Wilson groaned as he found himself with a handful of soft tit and a dark nipple thumbing out hard.
"Is the door locked?" he asked.
"Of course." She thought, you fathead, all you have is that precious M.D., that license to steal. You don't even know if the door's locked. If it weren't for me you'd be up shit creek without a paddle, but I have to make you think you're boss.
He was up out of his chair, a tit in each hand, leaning to them, his mouth abruptly yawning and clamping on the right one, sucking half of it into his mouth.
Karen sighed deeply, feigning passion. She wasn't in the mood, too wrought up about the Madge Blake cunt, but she had to wilt his prick. Thus, she moaned, squirmed, then did what turned him on, flipped up her skirt and grabbed her twat and massaged it hard. He was watching it. As though frantically hot, she yanked her panty crotch aside, exposing her black-haired crotch, and fingered her vulval lips open.
He suckered off her breast and panted, "Let me do that, Karen."
She choked, "Harry, I'm too hot. God, the way you suck a tittie! No, let's go to the couch." She swiveled away from him, leaving the desk, stooping over peeling down her panties as she went to the couch. There she flopped down, skirt up, legs spread, displaying her hair-edged gash. Wilson came opening his pants. His fat cock leaped into view, a big, red, bulb-headed organ that would stretch many a cunt, but not her open, wet hole. Seeing he intended to shove it right in she grabbed at his thinning blonde hair, tangled her fingers in it, and forced his head down to her cunt.
Eat it, you son-of-a-bitch, she snarled inwardly. You may seem like the big shit around here but to me you're a cunt lapper. Get into that hair pie, you prick!
His thick tongue slid up her hole and Karen released an involuntary groan of passion. His mouth suckered onto her vulva while he licked the walls of her vagina, shooting wet thrills from her hole to her clit. God, but he lapped well! He sucked hard and pulled the core right out of her, and Karen found her hips jerking, squashing her gaping twat at his face. She braced her heels on his back and arched up, humping at him. She still had her white, heeled nurse's shoes on, and her white stockings, bracketing the blonde head between her thighs. She got a flaming, ripping cum that seemed to rend her belly, and his tongue felt as big as a hand in her vagina, flagging it about, and, oh, shit, what a big, hot, juice-spewing cum!
She fell apart. While she was gasping through the aftermath of orgasm, Harry climbed up and sank his prick into her pulsing, yawning, honey-drooling fuck-hole. He kissed her, and she cringed at the taste of her own cunt juice on his mouth. Then he Was panting too hard to kiss her, bucking, driving his meaty prick in and out of her with violent, cunt-busting strokes. But she could take it. Could Madge Blake? Could the Blake twat hide her frigidity from him? She had succeeded with her husband, apparently, so don't underrate the lesbian bitch.
Then Wilson's cock hardened and his strokes came long as he delivered his load. His nuts slapped loudly on her wet ass, and he crunched her clit so hard that she began cumming before his sperm flew. She had her heels dug into his buttocks now and was whacking up at him, meeting every stroke, her vagina sucking loudly and making wet-fart noises, exploding, and on top of her own violent cum he began to fire.
The first dollops of cockspew knocked her right out of her mind.
She lost track of everything then, becoming no more than a sizzling cunt pulling yet another blistering orgasm off the bony tool that was emptying clotted milks into the hole in her belly.
In her own car, Karen followed Dr. Harry Wilson to the street corner opposite the Five Star Motel. There he parked and went to the public phone booth.
Karen's car was small, a dull blue in color, like a million others, and she knew that he hadn't noticed it as she wheeled into the motel parking lot and hid between a van and a camper. She could see the phone booth. It looked as though he were making two calls. One to Madge,' one to the motel desk. Shortly he got back into his car, drove it up the side street, returned on foot, and crossed the parking lot to a unit Karen could see, Number Fourteen. A uniformed room clerk was already there, unlocking it, leaving as Wilson hurried inside.
Karen waited.
Soon a small yellow sports car wheeled into the lot and parked several units down from Number Fourteen. A woman in a beige coat with a white fox collar matching her hat climbed out and went hurriedly to the unit that Karen was watching. Honey-blonde hair, long, sleek legs. She rapped on the door and, when it was opened, she darted inside.
Karen scowled. Well, she knew for sure that Madge Blake was shacking up with him.
She didn't know if Wilson had another erection in him this soon after she had milked his nuts. She had to assume that he could make it, and study what other weapons were at her disposal. She picked up the blue book that she had brought along, the City Hospital Directory. It was organized both as to departments and usual location. She found the page of B-Wing-Six and scanned the names. Jonas Blake, M.D., resident in surgery. The nurses. Karen knew most of the R.N.S in the city and a good many of the practicals. There a name caught her eyes, Marie Fontaine. The girl had come to the clinic a few weeks before looking for a job. A whining little bitch, Karen had thought.
She drove out of the lot to the phone booth on the opposite corner. There she rang City Hospital and asked that a message be sent to Marie Fontaine asking that she call this number, personal business. That meant that she would have to use a pay phone instead of the switchboard.
If the girl hoped for a job at the clinic, she would have to spy on Jonas Blake.