Chapter 6
Don Harvey was still seated on a couch along the side wall. He was naked, but I hadn't noticed him as he undressed, so it was a considerable shock to me as he got lazily to his feet. His cock appeared to be about half-hard, angled down from his heavily haired, lean torso over a huge, swinging bag of balls. But even half-hard, that cock looked as thick as my wrist, and easily ten inches long!
Harvey was by no means a giant in any other sense. He stood a bit under six feet, I estimated, and though he was half bald, his facial freshness, slight build and easy gait seemed those of someone hardly older than I was.
His cock, I learned later, was actually only a bit over nine inches long in full erection, but in both length and girth, that put it nonetheless in a class that none of the rest of us even came close to.
Harvey stroked his prick absently as he strolled over to where Sandra lay on the floor, her body heaving with dry sobs and uncontrollable shudders. He stood over her, his face expressionless as he looked down at her splayed crotch. Then he turned toward where I sat.
"Sharon, how 'bout a little help? Come here and hold her in place; okay?"
His plump blonde wife relinquished my balls, which she had been rolling around her mouth while Myra Deering sucked my hard but now apparently cum-less cock. With a final rub of her nipples along my left thigh, she turned, rose, and went over to stand by Sandra's head.
"Get down on your knees, honey," Harvey instructed her. "Get the little girl's head up between your legs where she can give you a lick or two if she .feels like it, and then hold her shoulders in place against your thighs. Yeah. That's it."
Sandra lay on her back now, legs thrown wide, her shoulders propped on Sharon's lower thighs, her head lolling back beneath the kneeling blonde's swampy cunt. Sharon's hands lay flat on Sandra's shoulders, and I saw her exert pressure as Harvey grasped my wife's ankles and lifted them.
Placing her calves against his own shoulders, he knee-shuffled close, then leaned forward until his forehead settled between his wife's big, pasty-white tits, his weight held by Sandra's legs. His cock, like a small log now, twitched eagerly as its snout touched the sparse hair and profuse slime of Sandra's slack cuntlips.
His hands were on her tits, and he made a cone of one and pushed his face down to kiss and tongue its flattened tip, bringing it slowly to peaked firmness. Then, as his mouth went to work on the other nipple, he put one hand back and began to snug his cockhead into Sandra's upturned slot.
She moaned and switched her hips, but he stayed with her easily as perhaps two inches of his massive gristle sank into her, stretching her opening visibly. They lay at an angle to me, so that I could see past the tightening sack of Harvey's balls ... see the firthy length of his gigantic cock extending forward and down to where the taut ring of my wife's wet cuntmeat clung around it.
Slowly but steadily now, he pushed inward, the ring of scarlet tissue shrinking, compressing outward as he bored the increasing thickness of the great tool into her. Three inches ... four ... Halfway.
There was still enough cock in the open air to be any housewife's nightly pride and joy. Christ! I thought. He's gonna rip her from clit to asshole and puncture one of her lungs, if he gets that in all the way!
Harvey raised his head now, took his hands from Sandra's tits and placed his fists at either side of her torso, just in front of Sharon's knees. Propped on straight arms, he then straightened his legs, coming up on his toes. The angle of his cock in Sandra's stretched fuck-hole shifted slightly forward, and he was able to let his hips sink a little, squeezing another inch of the fantastic cudgel out of sight.
Sandra started to gag and gasp. Her arms, lying free at her sides, began to tense and tremble, her hands forming fists.
"Hold on now, Sharon," Harvey murmured. "Here goes."
Sandra's doubled form tensed visibly, and she brought her arms up toward the man's slim waist as if to fend him off.
But instead of pressing down, Harvey's hips rose, and perhaps.an inch and a half more of his burly cock slid free of Sandra's sucking tissues.
"Don't fight me, Sandy," he said gently. "Relax. I'm not going to surprise you, or hurt you any more than I have to. Just let everything go loose. Feel it going in, and try to fit yourself to it."
"I... I can't," came Sandra's muffled response from between Sharon's thighs. "I... Oh, I'll try. But don't..."
"Easy, girl," Harvey soothed. "This is the good part; really. Can't you feel that already? Isn't it getting to you a little?"
"I... Y-yes," Sandy whimpered. "I guess I-oooh!"
He had pushed downward, smoothly, gently, sinking the retracted inch and a half into her again. "Good, isn't it?" he asked now. "Ohhh, yes! But I can't-" "Yes, you can, Sandy! Relax, now. Let it happen, baby!"
He paused, moving his hips almost imperceptibly from side to side, still arched over her on tiptoes and stiff arms. Her legs against his chest and shoulders bore none of his weight now.
"Now I'm going to ... Easy, kid. Don't tighten up. I'm going to give you more now, and it's going to be good. Even better. Ready?" "I... All right, D-don."
I estimated that about half his cock's length was still in sight then ... perhaps four inches, give or take a half. But as I watched, seemingly without visible movement of his body or Sandra's, that length diminished. Slowly, oh, so slowly, like the motion of mercury in a thermometer, more and more of the thick stump disappeared in the concave ring of taut, white tissue gripping it so impossibly.
Harvey's muscular control was fantastic! He was like a fallen statue above her, never a muscle twitching as he sank like the setting sun, driving that massive penis into my bitch of a wife.
Suddenly I realized the motion had stopped, with about an inch of meat ... the great, brawny base of the thing ... still unsheathed. Harvey was working it from side to side again, and bringing Sandra's hips and lower torso with him, so tight was the fit.
Sandra's every breath was a crooning moan, but the sound seemed to express good pain, and no protest.
"See, Sandy? We've almost made it. And the best part's ... "
"Ahhh!" Sandra interrupted him, het head coming up a little, nose almost pressed to Sharon's pouting cuntlips. "Don't... Don't stop! I think I..."
Harvey drew back again, perhaps a half-inch, then let himself down steadily, smoothly, slowly ... though the motion was visible now ... sinking the gigantic tool completely out of sight in one slow-motion surge, until his tight, bulging ballsack rested firmly against my wife's squirming ass.
"You've got it all, Sandy," he sighed. "Right to the hilt. Is it good, baby?"
"Ohhh, God!" she groaned. "Yesss!"
Harvey let his knees go to the floor now, without losing a bit of depth or tension against Sandra's spitting torso. Then he lifted his arms, one at a time, freeing her legs. He guided them into a locked-ankles grip on his waist.
Next he sank forward, his head sliding on his wife's belly, tipping back. He got his elbows on the floor, and cupped Sandra's tits with his hands.
"Now stay loose, baby. It may hurt a little at first, but it'll be good too, and it can only get better. Sharon, keep her steady now."
"Are you .. ?" There was fear in Sandra's tone again. "Are you going to .. ?"
"Yeah, honeybox. I'm gonna fuck you now."
"Ohhh, Don, I don't-"
"Shhh, baby. Relax. No sweat. It can't go any deeper than it is right now, and you can't get any tighter. Help me, baby. It'll be good."
Even as he spoke, Harvey drew his hips back until I could see that inch of broad base once more, and around it a thin line of wet crimson cuntflesh, clinging tenaciously.
Then he slid it in ... faster than before, but still smoothly.
"Oooohhh!" Sandra breathed. "Oh, yesss, Don!"
Out again. This time a fraction of an inch farther.
"Oh, God! Don, I'm-Uhh!"
And in again, with a little grind as he reached full depth.
I saw Sandra's thighs tighten on his waist. "Oh, yesss!" she moaned. It's good! I..."
This time he drew back half his cock's length, and without a pause, drove forward again in a quick but even stroke that jolted Sandra a little and made his wife press down to hold her in place.
"Ahhhh!" Sandy called. "Oh, more!"
He repeated the half-length piston-stroke. And then again, and again, setting a rhythm that my wife punctuated with high-pitched yelps of pleasure.
The rhythm stayed steady through perhaps a dozen more thrusts, but with each one, the impact on Sandra's crotch was a little harder, the shock as their flesh collided a little louder. Then Harvey froze, at full depth.
"Okay, Sharon," he said, turning his head to kiss his wife's nipple as he braced up a little. "We can make it on our own now. Eh, Sandy? I want to get at that mouth of yours, ancVnot waste those sweet lips on my wife's snatch. Okay?"
As Sharon scootched backward and then got up, Sandra nodded and sighed her assent. She appeared about to speak, but before she could, Harvey had drawn his hips back to half his cock's length and driven it forward again, simultaneously bringing his mouth down on hers in an eveloping, carnivorous kiss.
That cheek-working, nostril-flaring kiss went on for a full eight minutes then, at the very least, while Don Harvey's hips rose and plunged, rose and plunged, ground inward and snapped back and roared forward again, stabbing and corkscrewing his huge cock in my bitchwife's gluttonous slot without pause, faster and faster ...
After no more than a minute of it, Sandra began making ecstatic animal noises in her throat, her legs' embrace straining tight and then kicking inward to the beat of Harvey's loins against her. Her nails raked his back for long seconds whenever her hands weren't beating tight-fisted on his shoulders or flailing spastically in the air.
"She's coming," Irene Eldridge whispered to me, about halfway through minute number two. "And it looks sure as shit like a chain orgasm! Does she have those often?"
She took her tit from my mouth so I could answer.
"Hell," I said honestly, "I don't think she's had any kind of orgasm before! Not with me, anyway."
"Well, good for Don!" Irene breathed. Then she giggled. "I always said that salami of his could make an ice maiden come, and I guess I was right!"
Harvey had begun a still more complex rhythm of strokes now, I noticed. On every third thrust he would grind his pelvis briefly but forcefully against Sandra's heaving mound, and after every second one of these strokes he would hunch back until all but the head of his long, gleaming rod was free of her clutching red cuntmaw, then drive it in with brutal force.
He was holding her shoulders now, hands hooked up from beneath, his forearms on the floor under her upper back, yet each of these superstrokes drove their locked bodies a couple inches forward on the floor, requiring him to bring his knees up for the next series.
He kept this up ... this veritable symphony of fuck, a fleshly composition worthy of the great jazz masters ... for the remaining five minutes or so that his mouth stayed locked on Sandra's, and it was evident that she continued coming the whole time.
Then they found themselves with their heads jammed against one of the empty couches along the side wall, and Harvey broke rhythm long enough to heave his chest up and swing Sandra to one side, her head toward Eldridge, her yawning cuntal grip on his gargantuan cock now visible to me from a more direct rearward angle. His balls now hung to the right of my focus of interest.
The shift of direction had required Harvey to raise his head, and even before he swung my wife's weight away from the couch before them, she had begun to screech in mindless ecstasy.
"AAAAAAAGHHH! OOOOOOH! GAAHGUGH! Ohhh, FUCK! God, Christ, my cunt, my wonderful.. . oh, fuck my cunt! Oooooh, I'm . .. I can't stop ... FUCK, Don! AHHH! Oh, Gaaawd!"
His strokes were now half-length again, and coming faster, increasingly more violent. He had pushed up on his toes again, legs straight, his hips now driving straight down on Sandra's voracious crotchslot, so that they moved no farther along the floor.
I noticed suddenly that Eldridge had risen and was walking toward the writhing, churning couple. Reaching them, he bent over and appeared to whisper a single word in Harvey's ear, which was turned up as he clung with his teeth to the side of Sandra's throat.
Harvey nodded jerkily, without relinquishing his lock-jaw hold, and went right on plunging his great rod faster and faster, harder and harder into the squirming grip of my wife's insatiable loins.
Eldridge turned away, smiling, and had resumed his seat near the crouched, fiery-eyed Cahill before the next phase of the action began.
Suddenly, then, Harvey began to breathe loudly through his mouth, and the breaths became sharp grunts. His hips began to move raggedly, switching left and right perhaps four times on each downward drive into Sandra's swampy cunt.
But this continued for only six or seven strokes, and then the slim superstud reared back abruptly, breaking Sandra's leglock and jerking his prick entirely free of her yawning box.
Before she could react, he had pinned her shoulders to the floor and was clambering upward along her thrashing body, until he sat over her tits, his knees now holding her shoulders down.
One hand was in her hair, keeping her face straight up, and his other hand grasped his cock at the head and stripped it back rapidly two ... three times,, then jerked wildly as his hips shot forward and thick ropes of ivory cum were hosed out, to splatter and ooze on Sandra's startled eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her haping lips ...
Her hips were still flailing, even as she screamed, "Noooo, Don! I want it in me! I want..."
Eldridge laughed loudly. "What you want, Sandy, is of little concern to us. What you're going to get, my dear, is a very long period of... shall we say, probation.... before you've earned full membership in our little club. This could have been the end of it, my dear ... the full initiation, over with in one night ... if you hadn't been such a clever little cock-teaser last week, and all those times in the office..."
Sandra had whimpered and struggled to turn her head aside from the continued spurts of slime from Harvey's cock, all the time Eldridge was speaking. But now the flow had apparently stopped, for the wiry stud gave up his grip on her head and stood up, grinning proudly.
"I'll... I won't..." Sandra sputtered, twisting back to turn her smeared face toward Eldridge. "I don't want to be in your horrid club! I'm never coming back here! And Fm not..."
Suddenly she was silent, her mouth gaping. Eldridge merely stared at her, through a long, heavy silence. Then:
"Yes, Sandy? Not going to work for me any more? Was that what you were about to say? And when the accountants come next time, Sandy ... ? When they find ..."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack Deering wince, and heard him draw a sharp breath. What was it that he feared his boss was about to reveal? "Come here, Sandy," Eldridge said now, his tone abruptly changed. "Let's you and I get cozy, little girl, and maybe you can still get another load in your cunt before the night's over. These other people have been very patient, and I think we'd better let them pair off and start enjoying themselves, eh?"
Already, it had been the most exciting, most magnificent night of my life, and my luck continued to run fantastically. As the swap club's members paired off and drifted off to other parts of the house, I found myself left with Alice Cahill, across the emptying room from where Eldridge sat with Sandra now beside him, in his arms.
Alice had been in control of my cock when Harvey's fantastic bout with Sandra had ended, and she had saved herself for me by the simple expedient of going right on sucking through the ensuing minutes.
Now, as Myra Deering and Harvey went arm in arm through the door, leaving the room to Eldridge and Sandra, Alice and myself, the luscious little brunette stood up and took my hand.
"Well, we're too late for a bedroom or the living-room sofa, I'm afraid, but maybe the kitchen table's still available, Tom. Shall we go see?"
I turned back, just as we went through the door, to see Sandra on her hands and knees on the floor, and Mason Eldridge behind her, grasping her hips.
It's funny, how the mind works. And how the cock works.
Alice Cahill, stark naked and game for anything, had been crawling all over me for the past hour and a half, had sucked my cock several times ... and I think it had been her mouth on it once when I'd come ... stuffed her tits in my mouth... I'd had fingers, toes, and even an elbow in her neat little cunt at various times during that period. There probably wasn't a square half-inch of her body I hadn't touched already.
But when all that had happened, she'd only been one of five naked females swarming erotically around me ... the most beautiful, to be sure-^-for while equally beautiful perhaps, Irene Eldridge was less my type than Alice ... but still, just one member of my sudden harem. And of course most of my visual attention had been focused on Sandra and her tormentor-lovers.
Anyway, once Alice spread herself out before me on the Deerings' kitchen table, it was like a whole new ballgame! It was as if I'd never seen her before, never touched her ... and never had a real piece of ass in my life!
Alice's dark, thick hair fell in alluring waves to an almost tubular final curl at shoulder level, framing her creamy, red-lipped, dark-eyed face magnificently. And it had that magical quality of staying just a little disheveled, but never really wild and snarly, no matter what physical mayhem she put it through. Yet it was so soft, so silky that I couldn't believe a single spritz of spray had ever sullied it.
Her whole body was the same creamy color and texture as her face ... baby-soft, silk-sleek; she must have avoided sunlight religiously, and bathed daily in exotic oils.
Her tits weren't big and they weren't small; they were just right for her tiny, compact frame, and they stood up proudly, no sag, no side-bulge, no matter what her position, topped by mouth-watering nipples that never seemed to shrink from their peaked excitement.
Her waist was tiny, her belly flat, marked by a deep, dark navel that just begged to be tongued a while before one felt compelled to move on to even better things.
Her trim, tantalizing hips, her sleekly tapering thighs... Well, it would take many more nights with Alice before I could spend any time finding the proper adjectives for their perfection, because my eyes could only study them peripherally, so magnetic was the jet-black puff of woolly curls that clothed her swelling pubic mound.
She lay with her trim little ass just at the edge of the oval oak table, legs hanging free, arms straight out to the sides, smiling up at me as my cock went into a deep trance of rigidity in response to that hypnotic black bush. Then, ever so slowly, she began to riase and part her thighs, knees coming up and out until she could set her heels on the table's edge, just outside the taut undercurves of her buttocks.
But I saw all that only peripherally too, of course, for my eyes were feasting on the tiny split pomegranate of her ripe, moist cunt.
Her clit was tiny ... barely perceptible even when Alice reached down and, with the slim forefingers of both hands, spread wide the juicy lips of that delicious gash to reveal its full splendor.
I went to my knees, and started by driving my tongue as deep as it would go in the tight hole near the bottom of her slot, my nose scrubbing over that swollen little clit. I tongued inward till the webbing that held my tongue's underside developed a fiery ache, then lapped up through the rich juice to clit-level. As I went to work there ... tonguing, sucking, gently nibbling ... Alice closed her thighs on my head, her calves moving excitingly on my back, and began to work her hips frantically.
She found my hands and pulled them up to her tits, but soon pulled the right one farther, and began to suck my middle finger. Wow! That trick alone could have got me rock-hard, if I hadn't been already!
Then she came.
Her cunt literally battered my face as her hips jittered and jolted up, her heels beating wild drumrolls on my back, and at the peak of it she sank her teeth into my finger inside the first knuckle, and damn near amputated it.
"Oh, Tom!" she crooned,- finally releasing my aching digit. "Fuck me now! Stick it in and screw me, baby!"
It never entered my mind that I might not be able to come again, after the earlier festivities. I was going to blow my balls and big, and soon, I was certain.
Carrying her legs upward with me, I stood straight, and grabbed my throbbing tool with both hands. I had to crouch just a little ... it was Deering's table, I realized, and he was several inches shorter than I, and had probably chosen it with this sort of action in mind for himself ... to fit it into her. But once lodged, I slid my hands under her butt and lifted, so I could stand straight while I drove my cock home in that snug, spasming tunnel again and again.
Almost immediately, I was close to coming. But I hovered there, my prick's tip scalding, yet the fire was unwilling to flow back and ignite my balls. No matter how hard and fast I fucked, no matter how wildly Alice writhed and cried out, or how tightly her inner muscles gripped and milked my tingling cock, it wouldn't go over the top.
Finally, when my hips began to ache from the strain, I leaned forward onto her tits and whispered, "Hold on. We're going for a ride."
She locked her arms around my neck, and I straightened up, lifting her. My cock lost depth at this angle, but her nimble cunt closed hard on the tip of it as I turned us away from the table.
I went to my knees with a thud that drove my prod a jolting two inches into her; then I toppled forward, taking one hand from her ass to break our fall.
Now I could really fuck, and she could set her heels and thrust her box up to me on each stroke. It took just four such strokes to send the fire coursing toward the base of my cock; on the fifth, I strained forward, holding it, writhing, crushing her shoulders in my hands as I jammed her down on it and ground out the most ecstatic orgasm I'd ever experienced.
"Oh, Christ, Alice!" I blurted. "You're... wonderful! I... I love you!"
She stiffened a little, and raised my head between her hands, frowning. "Uh-uh, Tom. That's against the rules. You don't mean it, and you can't say it any more, or you may start believing it. You can love sex, and if you decide I'm better at it than the other girls in the club, that's jolly good. But you don't love me, and you can't. We've got too good a thing going here to mess up. Understand?" "Yeah," I sighed, suddenly exhausted. "Sorry. I won't let myself... get confused again."
"Good," she said, kissing me on the forehead, then tickling my still-sheathed cock with a quick wiggle of her loins. "You're a damn good fucker, Tommy. And so am I, if I say so myself. But you're a big boy now; you don't need that love shit as an excuse to get your rocks off. And it's not that I love my husband, either; because I don't. I live with him because I like him to live with better than anyone else I've met so far. I don't like him best for sex, and frankly I don't like you best for sex, either. If I was allowed one last fuck before I died, it wouldn't be you or him that I'd do it with. But I'm not about to die, Tommy, and I do like variety, so you'll be having a piece of me now and then.
"Get off now, lover. Rex probably shot his wad long ago, if not with your wife before Laurel even got a crack at him. Hell be wanting to go home and rest up. So up you go."
Tommy, she'd called me. That, and the very school-teacherish little lecture just concluded, made me begin to realize where Rex Cahill might have gotten his sadistic tendencies. There was, I mused as I got to my feet and perfunctorily helped Alice up, a large helping of bitch in even a woman as sweet-looking as this one.