Chapter 9
"JIMMY!"
That beautiful ass!
That hard, young, firm, beautiful ass!
It was more than he could resist!
He fucked her to the point of cumming and then....
Then....
He whipped his dick out from between the lips of her anxious, twitching, soggy pussy....
And he smashed it powerfully and painfully between the cheeks of her ass and down into the second, tinier, tighter fuck-hole found there!
From spasms of ecstasy to spasms of pain in the length of time it took her fragile adolescent nervous system to recognize exactly what had just happened.
His cock was well-lubricated from the dripping gravy from her itching, cumming cunt! She had let a few men up her shit chute before. But NEVER! NEVER!
Would she have considered this one!
It was enormous. It was as big around as two good-sized slabs of dickmeat.
And it was long enough to reach way up inside her intestines!
Way up!
Deep!
She could feel herself being ripped apart!
She felt helpless to the pain which wracked her whole body.
She tried to break free, but his grasp was too firm.
She turned her head to the side.
Those bulging muscles were like bands of iron which tied her to the bed.
There was no way of fighting her way free.
She squirmed.
It was useless!
His cock stretched her ass-hole a hundred-times out-of-shape.
The muscles squeezed hard, trying to force his dick out of the hole.
But it was no good. He wasn't moving!
And there was all the force in the body of that muscled, hard-working bricklayer to keep him up her ass-hole if that's where he wanted to be!
He continued to fuck!
He had to keep on pumping. He had to keep up the momentum, because the walls of the inside of her ass would close around his cock and stick to it.
It was painful up there. It was so tight!
You could say it was too '&*t' tight!
(If there was such a thing!)
He banged at her bunghole as she writhed in pain beneath him. lust a few minutes ago, she had wondered if her cunt was going to be able to accommodate his enormous tool.
Her cunt!
Her trained lips!
But her ass hadn't had the practice and wasn't built for this much torture. But he kept right on fucking! FUCKING! FUCKING! Faster and faster! Harder and harder!
He gritted his teeth.
It took every ounce of willpower he had not to cum yet.
This was the best fuck he had ever had, and he wanted it to last! Faster and faster!
He pumped his cock faster and faster up into her tender, abused shithole. "Help. Help."
But she was in shock from the pain and her voice came out only a whisper. Her legs went dead.
He had to pick up her hips and haul them up. UP!
For the best angle of penetration! Her hands were finally free, but it was no use. This screaming sex bitch couldn't move from all the pain.
He pumped and pumped!
HARDER!
FASTER!
Then suddenly he slowed down. ' Each fuck motion came slower, further apart, but more deliberate.
Each thrust reached even deeper up inside her intestines.
Deeper!
To the darkest, most-painful depths of the inside of her body that he could possibly reach!
Without a noise, he let loose a gusher of hot, steamy cum up inside her bowels.
The milky brine streamed out and painted the underside of all of her vital organs.
He was spent.
He pulled out.
She shivered as he whipped his cock out of her. Every motion in-or-out of her chapped, tender ass-hole sent storms of pain throughout her body.
He yanked it out violently.
He got-up and walked across the room.
He put the same smelly, dirty workclothes on his body.
Melissa lay on her bed shivering.
She couldn't move without searing flares of pain shooting from her ass.
He picked-up his boots at the door.
"Uh, the problem can't be fixed from up here. I'll have to catch it on the roof. Uh-thanks."
He closed the door behind himself.
Melissa stood up.
She walked very lightly so as not to upset her sensitive ass.
She slipped back into her clothes, grabbed her bag and was down the stairs of the house.
She checked her watch.
"Shit! I have to hurry. I have to be in Milan by dinner-time."
"Urn...."
She sorted-out the time difference in her head and realized that she would not be able to have dinner with Gian, but that she would be getting there at just about bedtime.
Which is, after all, the only time to visit tall, handsome Italian actors!
As she was practically out of the door, Bernard, the French chef ran up to her.
"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle!"
"Yes, love."
"It is your papa on the telephone for vous."
"Oh, thank you, Bernard." She ran into the small antechamber off the main entryway and picked-up the phone. "Father?"
"Yes, dear. I'm so glad I caught you. I thought you would have left by now."
"I-urn-was taking a nap and fell asleep."
"Well, how fortunate. I was just discussing the menu for this evening with Bernard. Listen, do you remember I was telling you how Andrew had just got back from Tokyo?"
"Yes."
"Well, there's some more problems there with the trade agreements. He needs to go back on this flight. So, he's going to ride with you to Milan and then ride on to Tokyo from there. You don't mind if he tags along do you?"
"No ... It's a 747. It's plenty big enough."
"Good. Good."
"I'll speak with you this weekend."
"Give me a call from Milan. I want to be sure you got there alright."
"Oh, father, you worry too much."
"Melissa, I want you to...."
"I will father. Bye-bye."
Melissa picked her sable up off the floor where she had dropped it and ran out the door. She stopped dead on the main veranda. "Is there a problem, Melissa?" It was Harrison.
"Yes. I was going to drive my jaguar to the airport, but it's going to rain this weekend. I don't want it sitting outside all that time. Yes, you had better send Bojangles around to drive me over."
"Certainly, ma'am."
Harrison went inside. In a few minutes a limousine pulled-up in front of Melissa.
"Not this old gray thing! I hate this! Where is the new midnight blue limousine?"
"Miss. Melissa, it's down at your father's office. He has meetings in Los Angeles today."
"Oh, bother! Okay, this will have to do. Did you at least get the ice machine fixed?"
"Yes, Miss. Melissa, and the television is now hooked up to wireless cable so it picks up HBO."
"Well, I'm not going to start watching a movie that I won't get to finish. You hurry this thing along to the airport!"
"Yes, ma'am."
In no time the big gray Cadillac had zigzagged through traffic to the airport and to the runway where the private Millicent-Forbes plane was standing-by.
Melissa jumped-out and ran to the plane, without even a parting glance in the direction of Bojangles. She raced on board.
There, at the head of the cockpit, was the pilot and another man. They were both tall, blonde and gorgeous. They were both tanned, athletic California boys. At first, Melissa was overcome by the sight. She had always had her eyes on Captain Rogers. He was hot.
She had always dreamed of fucking him, but she had only seen him when she was flying, which meant she was coming or going and there was no time for sex or other amusements.
And the other guy he was talking to.
Before she had time to figure it out, he shot out his hand to shake hers.
"Hi," he gleamed.
He shot her a large, toothy smile.
"I'm Andrew Grib, your father's attorney in charge of the trade deals with Japan."
"I'm Melissa."
"Yes, I know. I've seen your picture in your father's office. This is Captain Rogers."
"Yes, I know."
"Hello, Miss. Forbes."
"Call, me Melissa. It's a shame we never see each other long enough to get to be friends."
"Yes, it is. Well, if you have time, maybe we could stop for a drink in Milan."
"That would be nice. Or-you could show me around the cockpit sometime, maybe? Big engines fascinate me."
"Sure, just come on up. I'd be glad to show you around."
Melissa walked past them and into the lounge. She turned back and smiled at Andrew. "Are you going to be coming, Andrew."
"Ah-sure!"
Andrew followed her back into the cabin, and Captain Rogers went to prepare for take-off.
"I'm glad you're here Melissa. Your father always sends me on these trips alone. I usually feel so ashamed riding in this big plane all by myself."
"I'm glad I'm here, too, Andrew."
"I mean look at it! This whole plane for just the two of us! Can you believe it?"
"Well, how many people do you think could fit in here?"
"Hundreds and hundreds."
"Don't be silly. It would never get off the ground."
"This is a 747! Commercial flights carry hundreds and hundreds of people on one of these."
"Ghastly! Why that sounds perfectly awful! I can't believe people would pay to have themselves packed-up like sardines to fly. Really! But those are the common people and they don't know any better."
"Well, they ... I mean...."
"Oh, please, don't start defending them! Common people like living that way! Why, they like being poor and scraping-by on what they have. They don't know any better and they think they're happy."
"But they aren't poor because they like it, they're poor because they have no money."
"Then they should go out and work for some! The plight of the poor people! The plight of the poor people! That's all I ever hear. It's their choice to be poor!"
"Melissa, I think...."
"They don't have to be poor. If they would just work extra hard and save their money, but no they won't! They are lazy and shiftless and waiting around for a hand-out!"
"Melissa...."
"And do you know who they are waiting to get a hand-out form? ME! Well, let me tell you, enough of my father's tax dollars is wasted on welfare which goes to buy Coors beer for darkies in Harlem, while they run around having a hundred illegitimate little darkie children by a hundred different eleven and twelve year-old darkie girls, just so they can all go on welfare! It makes me sick! It's unamerican."
"But Melissa...."
"But what? Oh, here it comes! Are you going to tell me your big success story of how you came from a poor, working-class family and how you still have close ties to your humble beginnings?"
"Actually, yes!"
"Don't make me want to woof! Just because your family was cattle doesn't mean that you are cattle. You worked your way out of the mud of poverty. Otherwise, my father wouldn't hold you in such high esteem. Don't you see? You're family might be poor and worthless, but you're no longer like them."
"But I will always be a Grib!"
"Yes, but you are more one of us than one of them!"
"But, you can't understand. You never had to work for this money, you were born into it."
"Thank God! Oh, dear me, thank God! I would kill myself before I would want to grow up eating in MacDonald's and going to public school! Ooh! What an awful thought! Eating food out of tinfoil pans and buying polyester clothing off a rack in Zayre's department store!"
"But, living humbly has it's own charms."
"Please, Andrew! Common people don't matter! They are worthless! Their lives are worthless! They think that they are happy because they don't get enough to eat and their brains don't develop properly. They are too stupid to know any better. You sound like one of them sometimes, though. You can't just enjoy the spacious luxury of this 747. No, you are going to spend the whole trip feeling guilty!"
Melissa snickered to herself, knowing she was right.
"But, with people starving in the world...."
"Ha-ha-ha! I suppose we should detour down to West Africa to drop off a shipment of grain! Ha-ha-ha!"
"But, children are going to bed hungry!"
"Let them go out and get a job!"
"But there are no jobs! They live in a desert!"
"Then they should move! Ha-ha-ha! Anyway, they could always get a job in the servitude! There is always a need for good servants. Heavens! I can't tell you the trouble we have keeping good help."
"I don't think...."
"Oh, stop pouting! Here, can I get you a drink."
"Sure, whiskey."
"Straight up."
"Sure."
She fixed him a drink. She poured herself a glass of white wine and sat down next to him.
"So tell me," she proceeded without missing a beat, "you like to fuck?"
"Well, Melissa, I think-uh, I think we shouldn't-uh."
"Oh, Andrew, don't be such a stuffed shirt."
She had decided that she didn't much care for Andrew Grib.
Still, he was tall and blonde with blue eyes and a finely-muscled body.
He'd do.
She picked-up an intercom.
"Captain Rogers, this is Melissa. Please have no interruptions. Mr. Grib and I wish to be left alone for a while."
"Yes, Miss. Forbes."
She unbuttoned her silk blouse, and pulled it off over her head.
As she lifted her arms, her massive young, hard titties fell and jiggled like jello for a few minutes.
Her nipples were that electric bright pink color.
They were already rock-hard and ready for action.
She caressed the underside of them with her hands.
Her hair fell down around her shoulders in long streams of gold.
Her blue eyes shimmered in the dim light of the cabin.
Her tiny aristocratic nose pointed slightly up and away from her face. She took another sip of her wine and then pouted newly-moistened red lips.
She leaned in close to Andrew, as if to kiss him, and then pulled back quick.
Her right nipple lightly smacked against his closed lips.
He parted his lips and let her soft nippleflesh fall in against his tongue.
His hot breath made the tiny colorless hairs on her tits cringe.
He lapped all around the nippleflesh.
He slurped on the tit!
He reached his hands up and cupped them around her perfect milk factories! He squeezed. He poked! He probed!
He kneaded them like bread! He chewed on them! He kissed them! He lapped them!
Then he slowly, gently nibbled on her nipple.
She giggled because it tickled.
He was so gentle with her as compared to her lover-attacker of this morning.
Still, she wasn't sure which way she liked it best.
It still hurt her to sit down, but somewhere deep inside her ass she was begging for more.
MORE!
She loved having her shit chute filled up!
She loved having dickmeat stuck into every orifice of her body! '
She thought about all the guys who ad fucked her. "Hmmmmmmmmm."
She thought what it would be like to have both Captain Rogers and Andrew both fucking her at once.
The two blonde boys could easily pass for brothers. Oh, the thought of it!
At the same time, one up her ass and the other up her cunt!
Her pussy began to soak with excitement!
She pulled off her pants and shoes and stockings.
All that was left was that filthy rag of a pink, cotton pair of panties.
She almost couldn't believe her own gaul to slip on the same pair of panties after she had fucked the bricklayer this morning and had her undergarments soaked to the point of being wringing wet with her pussy drippings.
But she slid them down her legs and stepped out of them for the second time today.
Andrew was sitting on a great sofa.
He lay back and motioned for Melissa to lay down next to him.
She giggled.
She also did him one better. She sat right down on his face and began grinding her dirty, soggy cunt into his face.
Andrew was clean-shaven, so there was no problem of razor-burn against her tender pussy lips.
She rocked back and forth, providing all the action she needed to start to get herself off.
She rocked back-and-forth.
Back-and-forth.
All Andrew had to do was lay back with his tongue up and his mouth wide-open.
He slurped and lapped and let the light mucousy pussy gravy run into his mouth.
"AH!"
"AAAAAH."
"AAAAAAAAAH H H."
"UH."
"UH!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" She came and came!
Stream after stream of electric passion shook her body! "AAAH!"
"OH, ANDREW! ANDREW! ANDREW! OOH, YOU KNOWHOWTODO ITTOMEIYOU KNOW HOW TO GET ME WET AND HORNY AND WANTING TO BE FUCKED! FUCK ME, ANDREW! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"EAT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"FUCK MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"FUCK ME WITH YOUR TONGUE!"