Chapter 10
On the way out, Nola had stopped at his side. "Johnny?"
He had turned his face up, smiled weakly and winked. "Don't worry, sis," he had said. "You cured me last night!"
"Five. I'll be here exactly at five, Johnny."
"I'll be waiting for you baby," he had promised.
Now he sat in his favorite chair listening to Monet clean up the breakfast dishes and straighten out the kitchen. He looked down at his left hand. The fingers wouldn't wiggle. He could bend his wrist, but the fingers wouldn't wiggle. His right hand was fine. The pain was gone at the base of his skull, and he had half a hard-on just remembering they way Monet had thumped her oversized handbag on the mantle when she'd arrived a few minutes before eight. He inhaled deeply and tried not to think about his left hand. Presently Monet came in bringing a third cup of coffee. She set it on the cocktail table and stood, smiling at him.
"How's your legs, Johnny?"
"You talking about the two outside ones or the one in the middle? All three are present and accounted for, sergeant!"
"Joker. My ass was sore all night."
"Pavement is always rough until traffic wears it smooth. Well, let's see it," he said, nodding toward her handbag.
"I don't know. It makes me feel something like the Witch of Endor!" She went to the mantle and retrieved her bag. It opened with a snap, and she came back, not removing the dildo until she was standing directly above his knees.
Johnny blinked. He had visioned her private marriage stick as a crudely carved replica of a medieval phallic symbol. In his hand, the right one, it was something else. It had obviously been formed from a tree branch. The head was a closely carved and polished burl, clubbing slightly beyond the sleek girth of the branch itself. The cock shape was at least nine inches long and as thick as a slim woman's wrist. At the base the branch formed a small twist, and there was a handle large enough for a fist to grasp. What sent his nerves into tangles, though, was the small leather sack containing two stone-like weights that resembled balls. The sack was crudely tacked around the cock, at least seven and a half inches from the head burl. Even an Indian cunt liked the idea of balls, he thought, useless as these were. He managed to turn his left hand up and smacked the heavy device into his dead left palm.
"Wow!"
Again, Monet fished in her handbag, coming up with a square box. She opened the box and showed him the contents. There were seven or eight rolled condoms. "I roll one on to slick it up and keep the stink out of the wood," she said. "And I use a little Crisco, or something, because the gimmick is for fun, not frustration. Weird, huh?"
He didn't know what to say that wasn't nasty or derisive. It gave him a peculiar feeling to look at the thing. The wood was stained, and there were fine cracks along the cock shaft, as if it had been very wet many times and had shrunk while drying. The burl was neither sharp nor blunt, but it had no real resemblance to a human glans. It was simply a knot of unforgiving wood, dedicated to only one purpose, the distension of a hungry cunt. Mere thought of the desires that required such a club caused his prick to thicken and stiffen in his trousers.
"Say something, Johnny," Monet demanded. "Well," he decided,"-let's get the show on the road!"
"The legs. Hadn't I better rub them down first?"
"Whatever you wish."
She found the sheet where she had folded it away on a top cupboard shelf and spread it on the sofa. While she worked, Johnny opened his trousers and worked them down around his thighs, his cock standing in relative inadequacy beside the shape of Monet's dildo. His left fingers bothered him; they weren't something he wanted to talk about at the moment, but he knew Monet would discover their helplessness before the day was over. When she came to help him to the sofa, he could see her excitement, and she giggled tensely when his prick waved and bobbed.
"You better doctor this thing up," he said, handing her the wooden prick. "We might want to draft it into service in a hurry!"
She fondled it in her brown hands. "I-I only brought it along to show you, Johnny. It's only a friend in need, and I don't need it with you, baby!"
"Dress it up, damn it!"
He sat stroking his prick as she rolled a condom on the dildo. She sleeked and stretched it, turning the wooden head and shaft into a monstrous obscenity. Then she went to the mantle piece and came back with the snake oil. With loving fingers she coated the rubber skin until it gleamed, then she laid it on the cocktail table within easy reach. Johnny reached for her and she folded down to him, her fingers finding his prick with their oily tips. He unbuttoned her uniform, and she slipped out of it, baring the brown contours of her sleek body. While she frigged him, he took down her hair, then began to peel her panties.
"What's the matter with your hand, Johnny?" she asked, gripping his left wrist.
"The same matter that makes rubbing down my legs a waste of time, Monet. It went kind of dead this morning around daylight."
"Oh, please, no!" she wailed and turned against him, her body vibrating with sudden anguish.
He held her, his mind more interested in her lush warmth than in the fingers she gripped and kissed. He felt down her back and to her nates, plump and firm, and then he finished rolling the nylon panties over them. Some sense of urgency afflicted him, and he thought it was desire to get his ramrod into the passionate Indian girl. He twisted his left hand from her fingers and curled the wrist around her shoulder, as if to prove it was not helpless. She wriggled around and straddled his hips, sending his cock into her open and moistly ready cunt with one smooth slithering of her hips. She began to fuck him with wave-like ripples of her chubby body, her face close to his, her hands gripping his shoulders for bracing. He put his right hand to her bottom and filled it with the hot, quivering flesh and it suddenly occurred to him that if his right hand became like his left, he could not feel flesh nor shape nor passionate movements. He touched her anus, already working in tempo with her milking cunt. He entered it with a greedy finger, and her moans against his cheek were instantaneous.
His prick, still tender from their furious fucking of yesterday, seemed massive and searching as a snake. He twisted and hunched, savoring every new sensation, each sharp excitement. He wanted to fuck her forever, not because he felt any emotional attachment to her, but because the sheer ecstasy of feeling seemed to mean very much to him. He tried not to cum but her body began to suck the pleasure from every portion of his straining frame, and it gathered, bunched and hurled itself into her gulping cunt so violently it left him breathless and turned Monet into a trembling, gasping blob of fire.
"Good, good, good! Oh Johnny, I'm hot, so very hot for you!"
His finger in her rectum moved, stretching and probing and it set her hips to rolling and tensing again. He turned his head and looked at the dildo on the table, but he dared not try to reach it with his useless hand. He had lewd visions of surprising her with the club while his cock still lay heavy in her cunt, throbbing with lethargy born of complete satisfaction.
"Screw me there," she murmured, lifting her ass so his cock slipped free of her cum-flushed cunt. "Now! Fuck me in the ass, Johnny. I love it-but it was something I could never do with the marriage stick! I tried smaller things but they were cold and hard and hurt me. Not like your cock, Johnny. Fuck me there, baby!"
He hadn't thought he could, at least for a minute or two, but her breathless pleas and the huge loveliness of her taut bare ass brought his prick to swift erection, and it entered her rectum with only a little urging. She yelped and screwed herself down on it with grotesque hunger.
Nola didn't need to hide. There was no one in the neighborhood to spot her looking in the front room window, and it was instantly and painfully obvious that neither her brother nor the naked little Indian girl spraddled over his hips with his index finger in her asshole would give a window even one casual glance. Nola stared, fascinated by the obscene pair, quivering with a surge of emotion she could not understand. She had left them less than thirty minutes before, but they looked as if they'd been making love for hours. She saw it all; the jug of snake oil, the monstrously frightening but somehow intriguing dildo, and Johnny's rigid gleaming cock sliding in and out of Monet's hairy body.
A wail of anger escaped Nola's lips, but she could not move to dash in and surprise them, nor could she tear her eyes away. She was suddenly wet between the legs and her tits promised to burst from her brassiere. It took a great effort to drag in breath through her constricted throat. It was horrible, ugly, lewd and vicious, but as Nola watched, the erotic beauty of it became more compelling than she could resist.
She was surprised at how sexy, how smooth and how animated the chunky girl appeared, her legs spread wide so her prominent bottom appeared to nearly split on Johnny's sleekly sliding prick. She was not just fucking him, she was being screwed, and the squirming bodies, the hunching hips and grasping arms remarked the building of their passion with lovely clarity. She knew Johnny; when his face grew grim, and his muscles stood out like steel cords, she knew he was ready to cum. The Indian girl's plump body beat down, squirmed and lifted to beat down again, and she was making squeezing motions with her short, fat thighs. Their rhythm together broke, and now they were humping, holding, ecstatically riding the peaks of sensation so graphically Nola could feel her brother's cock swelling and distending in her own weeping cunt.
Then she watched Johnny cum, stunned by the fury of his hunching and the violence of Monet's response. The Indian girl seemed inspired to frenzy as she absorbed his prick to the napping empty scrotum then writhed and twisted as if she wanted to tear it off and wear it in her cunt forever.
Near to fainting with exquisite desire, Nola watched them fall quiet, but not rest. She saw them speak brief words together, then Johnny's finger in Monet's asshole began to jiggle and plunge as if it were feeling for some particular sensitivity. The girl raised her ass to the finger and shudders moved her plump flesh from thigh to neck. Then she raised very high, and Johnny's prick popped from the dark, wet mouth of the distorted vulva and Nola almost shrieked with vicarious delight as the white shaft with its beautifully scarlet head nudged into Monet's asshole and went sliding in without a struggle.
Blind with want, Nola staggered back from the window. She turned, almost waddling because her vagina seemed to have swollen and extended until it felt like a softly-spined burr between her thighs. She moved to the front porch, shaking so badly she could hardly hold her handbag to find the door key. She wanted to urinate, to fart, to do anything that would provide a tiny physical incentive to her hovering orgasm. Being as careful as she had the nerves to be, she fitted the key and with equal caution, opened the door. Monet was sitting up on Johnny's cock, giggling and squirming. Johnny lay back, smiling, his right hand down to her cunt with flipping fingers. Both turned at the same time, Monet's mouth open as if she were in pain, Johnny's smile turning to a quizzical frown. Nola closed the door behind her and moved across the room. Monet started to unload from her impalement, but Johnny's hand closed in the plump roll around her waist, holding.
"Join the club," he said to Nola. He hunched up hard and the Indian girl winced, then she tried to push up and away. "Stay put," Johnny commanded. "She wants to watch, or she'd have come through that door screaming like a banshee!"
Nola felt like sagging. Close now, she could smell sex and the oil and the faintly foul odor of Monet's disturbed rectum. She could almost touch Monet, but her instinct was to close down and join the meshed pair, not strike nor scratch nor curse. "Go on, Monet," she husked. "I-it was beautiful! Hideous but beautiful!"
"I'm s-sorry, Miss Banner!" Monet gasped. "You-you don't care? I mean...."
"He's my brother, not my husband," Nola said. "Who he fucks is his business, and what I do is mine!" She fell forward on her knees, one hand going to Johnny's belly, then sliding down to where Monet's black bush met his brown groin. The other went around and her fingers closed around her brother's thick cock, moving up to where it was solidly imbedded in the expanded hole between Monet's nates. "Go on!"
Monet giggled. Johnny began a slow upward undulation, and Nola's fingers turned to fire as she felt the flesh working and watched it deform and work again. From some sympathetic cranny of her mind, or perhaps just plain excitement, Nola leaned forward and kissed Monet's small tit, pursing around the nipple, nibbling the black berry. Monet's arm came out and closed over Nola's shoulders and drew her into an awkward, trembling embrace. They clung that way until Monet started to gasp and moan as the huge shape in her asshole began to jerk and pulsate with Johnny's cum. Nola cried out and fell forward, her mouth seeking to displace her fingers, fondling and feeling in the hairy shadows. She couldn't think, she couldn't plan. Her whole being wanted to crawl into the sweet forest and feel the bump and squirm of the two straining bodies. She had her own brutal cum when Monet began to pet and rub her face and neck, cooing soft words of encouragement and love.
Nola sat up, her eyes glazed. "What-what animals!" she exclaimed, then she laughed. Johnny laughed and Monet abruptly twisted down and kissed Nola full on the lips. Instantly shocked, Nola met the hot mouth with hesitancy, then with total abandon she hugged the Indian girl and returned her kiss with strange fervor.
No one seemed disposed to explain anything.
The fever of sex pervaded all three of them. Monet washed and powdered Johnny's exhausted cock, and Nola stripped to her tawny skin, eliciting ohs and ahs from Monet as her huge lush tits and fully fleshed ass were exposed.
"My God, you're beautiful! No wonder Johnny-"
"No wonder Johnny and I have made love together, eh, Monet?" Nola queried, stretching her lithe body so its tinted and shadowed delights were fully displayed to the Indian girl's wide eyes. "I guess that's why I came back instead of going to work! I knew he'd fucked you yesterday, and I didn't want to get shut out, I suppose. And the idea of Johnny and you together.-.what's that?"
Monet explained about the marriage stick. "It's a little crude I admit, but when you don't have a man-"
"Or you have one who is fucked out," Johnny laughed. "Try it, sis. Faint heart never won the turkey shoot!"
"It's so-so big!" Nola stammered, turning the huge dildo in her quivering hands. When she turned it down, aimed at her slightly open cunt, it seemed even larger. Monet giggled and leaned into the curl of Johnny's left arm. She raised one chubby leg and opened her crotch. The lips were now folded out slightly, and the vulvar openings were dark and swollen. She, too, was washed and powdered but the smell of hot female was very strong. Nola looked quizzically at the brown girl and then understood Monet's nod. Like an Alice in Wonderland, Nola put the knobbed dildo to the moist dark cunt and pressed. Monet giggled, and with her stubby fingers opened her cunt and seated the device firmly in her vaginal channel. Nola pushed and Monet squirmed, and the oiled shape moved in, distending the inner labia into a tight circle. Excited beyond her imagination, Nola put a palm to Monet's belly as if to feel the expansion and displacement of her organs as the marriage stick disappeared. Monet's raised leg kicked farther out, and her ass hunched forward until the artificial cock was buried to the leather sack of simulated balls.
"All right!" she panted. "Fuck me, Nola! Close your eyes and fuck me with every twist and turn you know a man should use! Oh, Jesus, Johnny! It f-feels just like yours!"
Nola didn't close her eyes. She couldn't because the lewd stick working in the hot wet flesh was pure untrammeled beauty. Even Johnny turned, looking down as the dildo began to move Monet's belly as if the brown bulge were a sack of puppies. She threw her head back, gasping at the force and speed of Nola's manipulation of the dildo. When Nola saw how the finger of Monet's clitoris was not being touched, she put a thumb to the pulsating organ and timed it with the thrust and turn of the stick cock.
Monet began to wail, her mouth chattering, her tongue whipping around outside her full lips as if searching for some responsive sweetness. Then, with a shriek of ecstasy, Monet raised her ass and rotated her pussy in frantic circles.
"Bingo," Johnny said with a chuckle. "Wow, what a hot slot!"
"Wasn't it b-beautiful, look at her flowing!"
Monet lay quietly, panting in short distress, and from her cunt, oozing around the rubber-coated club, came many trickles of nearly clear fluid. The drops ran down under the dildo and flowed into the tightly pressed crack of her plump little ass.
Frantic with need, Nola took the false prick out of Monet, and with no hesitation, rammed it straight up her own cunt. It hurt, it stretched her, it seemed about to split her in half, but she pushed it home, squirming and hunching, then sat with it imbedded. The shock of what she had done to herself drew her face into a tortured mask. It was Johnny's hand that gripped the handle end, and it was strong and brutal and almost more than Nola could stand. She tipped back on the hassock, her elbows barely positioned to support her shoulders, and she opened very wide while Johnny fucked her with the monstrous device. Her tits, already swollen with passion, juggled and rolled as he bottomed the dildo and moved her ass by waggling the handle from side to side.
Nola thought it was not the same. The feeling of being bloated was wonderful and the charge of the knobbed end was thrilling, turning her belly from hot to cold then to hot again, but her clitoris was as Monet's had been, high-standing, vibrant and very uncaressed. She was about to gasp for help when Monet went down on her knees and bent awkwardly over Johnny's plunging hand to put her pursed lips to Nola's hungry clit. Nola groaned and humped up, and she lay in quivering strain until the thundering pole in her cunt and Monet's biting lips became one magnificent cock, belonging to a giant whose only intention was to tear her body and beat it to an ecstatic pulp. Her orgasm surprised her, and she half fell from the hassock, jerking like an epileptic and crying words so sweetly foul they burned her mouth in sympathy with the exploding flames in her pummeled belly. Monet picked her up in her strong bare arms and they hugged while the passion they had shared puddled and became a boiling pit in which they wallowed senselessly.
The only sad note was Johnny. His laughter was quick, his eyes were like flashing lights. As the two women hugged and kissed and exchanged vital fingerings, his cock got hard again, and he crawled over them, thrusting his prick into first one hole and then another. And it wasn't until mid-afternoon, exhausted, sore from constant friction in her cunt and asshole, first from Johnny and then from the cum-oiled marriage stick, that Nola became aware of her brother's limp left hand.
"Johnny, oh Johnny, what's wrong with it?" she wailed. "Monet! His fingers don't move!"
"I know," Monet said.
"Don't worry about it," Johnny growled.
Only then did Nola see them. Johnny sat, his long legs spread and stretched out from his seat on the sofa. His cock lay like a weary, legless animal over his soiled thigh. Monet, the dildo deep in her dark underbody, was curled, the handle of the device thrusting back from under her ass in lewd presentation, and Nola herself was crouched over Johnny's groin, his right hand in her crotch, her tits lolled on Monet's hip. Three barely human creatures, so gnarled and twisted with frenzied passion they could only react to further and more drastic sex. And lying uselessly, palm up on the sofa cushion, was a big-fingered hand, strangely pale and listless.
With a scream of panic Nola fell forward, her lips pressed to the broad palm. The reward for her fright and pity was Johnny's other hand, moving the dildo from Monet's weary cunt to Nola's. While she wept, he fucked her strongly, and after awhile, the hand under her kiss was oddly formed of huge fingers, each seven inches long and knobbed. She was sure then, that she had lost her mind complete-ly.