Chapter 8
I don't really know why I didn't call Denise the next day, except that when I stopped home at noon, there was a note from Sandra in the refrigerator with my lunch, full of profuse apologies, and adding the information that there was to be a swap session at the Skowrons' that Friday, and she guessed she could hold off till then, if I still didn't want her.
And I got to wondering then what Vic Skowron's place would be like ... some kind of torture chamber, maybe? ... and who I'd end up with, and what kind of new twists they'd have in mind for Sandra...
I thought a couple more times that day about calling Denise and again on Thursday and Friday, but I just never happened to think of it when a phone was handy and she'd be likely to be home. I guess I just wasn't ready to diversify my activities any more than they were already diversified.
As for Sandra, she slept on the couch Wednesday and Thursday night, because I made it amply clear that I hadn't the slightest interest in polluting my cock in any of her eager openings. And when I came out of the bedroom Friday morning and found her spread out naked on the couch with a big banana jammed halfway up her cunt, gasping and groaning as she wiggled it up against her fat clit.. .
I just forced a laugh, spat once ... a big gob right on her palpitating belly ... and went off to work early, without breakfast.
The Skowron place wasn't as big or as flashy as Eldridges' or Deerings', and it was low on the hillside, where there wasn't much view at all. It was a tract house, I guess; but it had a big glassed-in patio, with a high fence for privacy around the yard beyond, and it was here that the week's swap session got rolling.
"We have a request from one of our members, Sandy," Eldridge announced pompously when everyone was assembled.
Sandra forced a smile, then socked down her second drink of the evening in a single gulp, and smiled again, waiting.
"I think you'll recall that Rex got a bit. .. distracted from his original intentions toward you last week. Could we safely say that, Rex?"
Cahill, seated at one end of the room with Sharon Harvey, nodded his agreement, his eyes fixed hotly on Sandra's black minidress.
"So tonight Rex would like to start things off ... "
"Mason ...?" Sandra interrupted.
"Yes, my dear? Do speak right up. Don't worry about offending me with your rudeness."
"Well... Mason, I'm sorry, but... Well, I told you this morning that I thought my period might be starting, and ... "
"And it has, eh? Well, that's nice, Sandra. That way we all know you're not pregnant. I guess even Tom knows now that you aren't pregnant, eh? Thank you for sharing the good news with us, my dear."
"But, Mason.. ." Sandy looked down into her third drink, as if seeking courage. "Couldn't we... Couldn't I sort of... postpone the next part of my ... initiation and ... just sort of watch, tonight? I promise I won't ... "
Eldridge's loud laughter interrupted her, and she turned pale.
"Oh, my dear, that's terribly considerate of you!" he boomed sarcastically. "But I assure you, Rex doesn't mind a little blood on his cock whatsoever! In fact, I suspect it'll make him enjoy you just that much more!"
Sandra had begun to sob, and was shaking her head from side to side. Her hands ... still gripping the drink ... were held rigidly in front of her mound, as if this could somehow protect her.
"Now as I was saying before this bloody little tart so rudely interrupted me... You'll pay for that too, little bitch," he added in a fake undertone. "As I was saying: Rex had intended to sample your skills as a toprider, Sandra. And since he did get diverted, I feel that this should be the first order of business tonight."
Sandra spoke without raising her head. "Please, Mason, I ... "
Suddenly Eldridge's tone was that of the hypnotist again ... the puppet-master. "Undress, Sandy."
She stood frozen, trembling from ankles to hairdo, her drink slopping against her skirt as her hands clenched spastically. Then, with a bursting sob, she turned and ran through the open French doors to the interior of the house.
Cahill had been half undressed, and as he saw her bolt, he lurched forward in pursuit, forgetting that his pants were still around his ankles. He went down with a thud, screaming curses.
Vic Skowron had been nearest Sandra, but the big man proved to have slow reflexes. I'd been standing a good fifteen feet farther into the room, nuding up to his hatchet-faced wife, whom I'd selected as my new experience for the night. Yet I shot past Skowron while he still stood flat-footed, his mouth open.
Ludicrously, I thought of football as I pursued Sandra across the Skowrons' dining area and wide living room ... of my boastful confidence that I could make the team... and Sandra's open scom ... her smug sarcasm when I'd quit practice after three days of nothing but calisthenics...
She was reaching for the knob of the front door as I came within a step of her. I dropped a shoulder and drove full-force into the broad part of her back, slamming her brutally against the door, her head cracking loudly against the frame before my momentum carried her to the left, scraping along the wall as she fell, my whole weight on her back. I could hear the others gathering behind us, across the room. But without looking back, I flipped up to my knees beside Sandra's crumpled, silent form, grasped the fabric of her dress at either side of the zipper that ran down the back from the neckline, and ripped it open. A second, lower hold, and I opened it from the base of the torn-away zipper to the hemline.
Now I jerked her torso up by the bra straps, which broke easily, but not before I had hooked one hand under her and flipped her onto her back. I jerked the dress and bra to her waist, then caught the waistband of her panties and pulled these along as I stood up, lifting her almost to a shoulder-stand as I stripped all three garments over her hips and upward, her legs coming free of them as she fell back to the floor.
She still wore a low-slung black garter belt and sheer nylons; her shoes, I realized, had come off as she'd run toward the door. I was about to wrench the garter belt down, when Eldridge's voice stopped me.
"Tom, that's just fine, thank you. She'll do quite nicely just as she is, I'm sure. Right, Rex?"
Cahill, holding his unfastened pants up, nodded hastily, his ferret eyes locked on Sandra's apparently unconscious form.
"I'm afraid, however," Eldridge went on, "that she's in no condition for topriding now. Someone would have to hold her upright. And in any case she deserves something a little harsher than that, considering her uncooperative attitude."
He was still speaking as if Sandra could hear him, and I looked back at her, half expecting to find her eyes open. But she was still out, as far as I could tell. One of her knees had fallen to the side, and I could see the white tail of a tampon lying along the snug crease of her lower cuntlips.
Eldridge mused a moment. Then he turned to the other men. "Why don't you gentlemen arrange things for a little game of Quickies? It really works best at Jack's, with all the couches, but I'm sure we can make do with chairs and cushions."
Now he turned to his wife. "Irene, you see about reviving our little playmate somewhat, and then Tom can bring her in."
With this, the club's master of ceremonies turned away, following the others back to the glassed-in patio, from which I could now hear the scrape and shuffle of furniture being moved around.
Irene went to the Skowrons' kitchen and returned with a wet towel. Kneeling beside me, she began to bathe Sandra's face and neck, until my wife stirred, her eyelids fluttering.
"That's fine," Irene murmured, rising. "Shell come out of it soon enough. Pick her up and bring her along, please, Tom." But she moved into my arms first, for a long, deep kiss, and then whispered, "If you hate her as much as you seem to, darling, you're going to love tonight's little game."
When she turned away, I bent and scooped the still unconscious Sandra into my arms. Her body jerked once or twice in protest, and as I carried her back through the house, her eyes fluttered open again.
"What...? Tommy, where are you ta ... "
Then I stepped through the French doors and set her on her feet, and she stared silently at the tight circle of chairs, pillows, one long and one half-length sofa in the room's center.
All the men were naked now, and seated in this circle, staring back at Sandra. Now Irene and the tall, red-headed Laurel came and took Sandra's arms, supporting and restraining her, though she seemed incapable of more resistance.
"Get undressed and join the men, Tom," Irene said smoothly. "You're a full member now; and youll learn the game quickly enough."
Without hesitation, I shucked my clothes and joined the circle, plopping down on a pillow between Jack Deering and Don Harvey. Cahill sat on the long couch, stroking his erect cock absently as he twisted about to watch the trembling, whimpering Sandra being led toward us. Eldridge occupied the smaller couch, with Skowron on his left, in a big easy chair. Then came Deering and I, on pillows on the floor, and Harvey in a wide, armless overstuffed chair, completing the circle.
The woman members were beginning to undress now, and one by one they came to stand behind one or another of the men.
Eldridge rose and took Sandra from Laurel and Irene. He turned her to face us and held her shoulders. .
"We're going to play a little game called Quickies, my dear," he intoned silkily into her ear. "And you're it, so to speak.
"Gentlemen..."
In response, all the men stood up, and I followed suit.
Sandra was still dazed, and stood there in the black garter belt and dark-topped hose, looking utterly bewildered, utterly defeated. Then, suddenly, she appeared to see me in the circle for the first time, and a fresh wave of anguish crossed her face before she closed her eyes, teetering in
Eldridge's grasp.
"Squat down a moment, Sandra," Eldridge ordered. And when she complied, her eyes still clamped shut, he reached under her from behind, found the tampon's string and yanked the bloody plug of cotton free.
He tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, then pulled Sandra erect again. "And now..."
Abruptly, brutally, the rangy older man shoved Sandra forward across the circle. She reeled up against Jack Deering, and he caught her on flat palms against her breasts and immediately shoved back, snapping her head forward as she staggered backward toward Cahill.
The thin, wiry sadist was grinning ecstatically as he shot out his right fist, smashing it into Sandra's kidney, then drove her spinning toward Don Harvey with roundhouse swing that thudded his left forearm against her head.
Harvey caught her under the arms just as her knees touched the floor. He pulled her harshly up against him for a moment, grinding his huge erection into her belly. Then he grabbed her hair, jerked her about and raised a foot to the small of her back. With a thrust that sent him sprawling back into his chair, he drove her across the circle to Vic Skowron, who met her headlong rush with a perfectly timed backhand smash to the mouth.
Blood sprayed Skowron's face and chest, and Sandra's knees buckled, dropping her at his feet. But by her hair and one tit, he yanked her up again and literally threw her across the ring to me.
Again, blind reflex served me well. Completely without forethought, I snapped my knee up and caught the bitch on the fly, smack in the crotch, then grabbed her shoulders as she doubled forward and sent her staggering ass-foremost toward Eldridge.
"Round one, and perfect!" Eldridge crowed, catching Sandra's waist and holding her. "Now help us, ladies."
As he spoke, Myra Deering had stepped into the circle at his side, and now she grasped his rigid cock and held it level, and Eldridge jerked Sandra's slumped body back to himself, hitting the mark perfectly.
Sandra hung from his hands, her knees wobbly, blood still dripping from her lips as she moaned a feeble protest to the pain of his dry, rasping penetration.
Three times, the older man bucked his hips violently against my whimpering wife's ass before he swung her torso to his right, where Rex Cahill waited, hands clawed, face contorted with lethal lust.
Cahill flung Sandra onto the couch behind him. He got both hands in her hair, and twisted and pulled until she lay full-length on it, face down. Laurel was leaning over the couch's back, and as Cahill pulled Sandra's nearer leg aside and climbed up between her thighs, the tall redhead scooped a glob of jelly from a jar she held, and quickly greased his prick.
Almost before her hands left it, that prick was snubbed into the pinkish ring of Sandra's rectum, and Cahill drove forward, sinking half its length.
Sandra screamed, snapping her head up from the couch's seat, her eyes wide and suddenly fully aware again.
"Shut up and take it, cunt!" The voice was Skowron's, and as he spoke, he strode forward one step and sent a kick toward her head. His heel caught her cheekbone, driving her head against the backrest.
"There, you piece of shit!" Cahill shrieked, driving his prick fully into Sandra's tortured anus now. "And there, you filthy whore!" He wrenched his hips up and drove down again. "Whore." Another brutal thrust.
"Whore! Whore! Whore! Whore! Whore!"
Eldridge now stepped forward and laid a hand on CahilPs heaving back. "Enough, Rex. Save the rest, boy. The night's young."
The crazed man shook his head angrily, but after one last lashing stab into my wife's cringing ass, he jerked free of her and lurched to his feet beside the couch.
Quickly, he and Eldridge rolled Sandra to the floor, then lifted her to her feet.
Amazingly, she was still conscious, and able to keep her legs beneath her, though when Eldridge released her arm and backed away, she swayed forward off balance, and nearly fell at my feet. As she caught herself, Harvey reached out and grabbed her right arm. He swing her toward him. "On your knees, slut," he hissed.
She appeared not to comprehend. She stood facing him, teetering, her wet, staring eyes fixed on his. She seemed to be trying to speak, but no sound came from her gaping, blood-smeared mouth.
Impatiently, Irene stepped forward from her place behind me. With a neat, twisting kick, she caught the backs of both Sandra's knees, and Sandra dropped forward, her face slamming into Harvey's lean hip.
He took hold of her ears now, and moved her head back, while Sharon reached around him and guided the tip of his gigantic cock to Sandra's lips.
"Open, please," he said calmly. "Open wide."
Sandra obeyed, and I watched the bulbous head of his massive staff sink into her mouth.
Now he moved his hands down to take her nipples between thumb and forefinger. He pinched them, both together, and Sandra moaned and shook her torso violently.
"Now if you don't bite, sweety-slot," Harvey murmured gently, "I won't do that again. Just be nice with your little tongue, and well get along just fine, baby."
Sandy's cheeks bulged and worked, her throat spasming as Harvey slid perhaps an inch of his shaft into her mouth, then pulled back till her lips caught on the rim of his cockhead.
In again, a fraction deeper, and out to the tip's rim again. He repeated this several times, meanwhile pulling downward gently but firmly on Sandra's tits, so that she settled onto her haunches, tipping her head back, his thick tube taking a downward angle to her gaping mouth. Now he nodded once toward Alice Cahill, sho stood behind Deering, and she moved forward quietly and held her hands ready behind Sandra's head.
When Harvey nodded a second time, Alice grabbed Sandy's skull in a basket grip and lifted, while Harvey drove his meat down, suddenly cramming better than half its length into my shocked wife's mouth and throat.
He held that depth, while Sandra gagged twice, the sound muffled and dull. Then he moved his hands to her ears again, backed out perhaps an inch, and as Alice released Sandra's head and moved away, he thrust in again, and she took it without response.
Harvey caught my eye. "Want to try the other end, Tom, while I finish off this one?"
I nodded, fascinated, and eager to be involved in my wife's humiliation again.
"Stand up now, Sandy," Harvey said, his cock's head still jammed deep in her throat. And as she complied, back sloping down, keeping her head tipped back to maintain the angle of penetration, Harvey told me, "Pick your hole and have a ball, buddy."
As I stepped forward, I said, "Laurel, how 'bout some of that goo? I don't think I'm in the mood for this bitch's cunt right now."
Laurel sprang forward, jar in hand, and applied a quick grease job even as she positioned my tool. Looking down, I noticed that the flesh close to the reddened ring of Sandra's bung was smeared with brown; apparently Cahill's plunger had brought a bit of shit out with it.
And beneath that, fainter brown streaks of dried blood patterned the tops of her thighs and her buttocks' undercurves.
"God, what a dirty bitch you are, Sandra!" I gritted, driving my cock into her fantastically tight asshole about two inches.
My prick was both thicker and longer than Cahill's, and the likelihood that it would give Sandra greater pain excited me tremendously, lightening my grip on her hips, I looked at Harvey to get my timing right, and when he thrust forward, stuffing all he could into my wife's straining face, I slammed my hips toward her, gaining all but an inch of full depth in one tearing, burning stroke.
Sandra's belly spasmed in agony, and her legs shuddered, but I held her up, and before she could brace herself for more, I drove forward again, sinking that final inch, and jolting her at least an inch farther onto Harvey's strangling log.
Now we set up an alternating rhythm for several strokes ... Harvey thrusting as I withdrew, pulling her impossibly tight rectal sheath with me as she shuddered and writhed in pain, then I driving in again as Harvey allowed himself to be pushed back, and then drew out an inch or two of his fantastic length before his next thrust.
But we both knew what was next, and grinned excitedly at each other as Sandra began to adjust her muscular responses to the pattern. Harvey raised his eyebrows as if to say, "You call it, buddy," and when I nodded, just before my next forward lunge, he timed his own second-stage thrust to meet it.
A choking, gagging groan shook Sandra's whole torso, and her legs snapped up under her belly so that she hung between us. She would have broken my cock off with her weight if my hands hadn't been ready to support her there. I was sunk to the balls in her pain-torn ass, and not more than an inch of Harvey's great meat now protruded past Sandy's hugely circled lips, "Drop her!" I hissed. And, as I wrenched back, pulling my prick free with scalding friction, Harvey yanked his from her mouth and I let her drop.
Her knees and forehead hit the floor simultaneously, it seemed, and she was out without a whimper, slumping onto her side like a sack of dogfood.
"Tom," said Eldridge, his voice a bit hollow, "you will never cease to amaze me."
I turned to him, smiling, and saw that he had his prick in his hand, jacking it steadily, even as he went on speaking.
"I don't know when I've seen a finer innovation in Quickies! And the victim your own wife! You're going to be a fine addition to our club, my lad ... unless you remove yourself from membership by screwing this poor girl literally to death."
"Thank you, Mason," I quipped, flying high on the sheer joy of vengeance. "I thank you ... and Sandra thanks you."
Eldridge laughed heartily. "Oh, yes! She will! She most certainly will!" he chortled. Then: "Well, Jack, Vic ... Do you think you can top that?"
Deering, who was next in line for Sandy, shook his head. "I know damn well I can't," he admitted. "And that last action got me so hot that I think I'll just pass, if you don't mind, and get busy blowing my nuts off in Alice, here."
Eldridge smiled benignly, and as Deering and Alice Cahill hurried off to another part of the house, he turned to Skowron. "Well, Victor? Are you vanquished too?"
Skowron only smiled, and there was as much malice as lust in that smile.
But there was plenty of lust in his cock. It stood almost straight out, ruddy and trembling, a drop of fluid hanging at its broad-slitted, blunt tip.
Now his smile vanished, and he moved forward to stand over Sandra's still-unconscious form, looking down with hot eyes, his jaw set.
Bending over her, he grasped her knees and used them to turn her onto her back, then parted them and sank down, one hand wedging his raw-red cock into her slot. He hooked his legs out to each side, froglike, his thighs keeping Sandra's knees steepled. Her lower legs and feet flopped loose at either side of Skowron's taut buttocks.
Those masses of muscle contracted as the big man drove his pelvis forward, getting his cock into her fully. Then he laid his forearms upward across hers, his hands locking behind her head. His broad chest crushing her tits, he began a slow, hunching series of thrusts.
Sandra came to, her eyes opening wide as she tried to focus on the grimacing face so close to her own. And as soon as they opened, Skowron threw a particularly hard jolt into her crotch, driving her forward several inches over the scratchy indoor-outdoor carpet that floored the patio.
Sandra coughed out a groan of pain... which was broken into segments by a second jarring thrust of Skowron's cock.
Next the big man raised his hips straight up, then crashed them down, simultaneously pulling his knees forward again.
And this became his brutal pattern: two jarring forward lunges, driving Sandra skidding along the rough surface beneath her back, despite her own weight and most of Skowron's; then a crushing vertical thrust as-he brought his knees into position again, for two more fierce forward blows of his julting pelvis.
Eldridge moved Skowron's chair aside to clear a path, and Sandra's flesh-searing progress across the floor continued. She was silent now, except for the whoosh of her breath each time the big man's hips crashed into her.
They had gone halfway to the far wall when Sandra began to moan again ... a higher, tighter tone now ... and her legs came up to close over Skowron's hunched back, her ankles locking.
"More!" she gasped suddenly in a cracked, hysterical screech. "More cock! Ohhh, shit, fuck, cock, cunt... aaaagggh!"
I looked around and saw knowing smiles light the faces of the other women. All, that is, except Myra Deering, whose expression was a tight mask of lust as intense as any of the men wore.
"Oh, Christ! God! Hurt me! Yesss!" Sandy screamed on, as Skowron's steady battering drove her toward the glass wall. "Kill me with your cock, your dirty, awful, evil prick! Ohhh, FUCK! FUCK!!!"
They had nearly reached the wall when Skowron began to come. Straightening his legs, he launched a rapid staccato of short, jerky strokes, and Sandra's heels beat raggedly on his vibrating ass.
"Nooo!" she screamed. "Don't stop! More cock! Kill me!"
But Skowron was finished, and lay limp and panting atop her, his head fallen forward like a rock above her shoulder.
I had half expected Eldridge to declare a winner in the implied contest ... either Skowron, or Harvey and myself as a team. But apparently the cumulative excitement had been too much even for our leader's cool. No sooner had Skowron collapsed, than Eldridge swept Sharon Harvey into his arms and carried her from the room, calling back, "Pair off, my friends! Playtime's over!"
I looked around for Laurel Skowron, and found her looking for me. Don Harvey had her by the waist and was kissing the back of her neck, but she was busily prying his hands loose. "Maybe later, Don," she said easily. "But first I want Tom to loosen me up a little."
She met me in the middle of the room, as Harvey shrugged and turned away toward where Myra Deering stood looking down at my wife, who still writhed beneath Skowron's exhausted bulk. I held out open arms, but Laurel ducked under them, grabbing my hips and glomming immediately onto my half-erect cock.
It came fully to life after just three long, sucking strokes of her hot, seemingly bottomless mouth, and then she let it bob free long enough to say huskily, "Right here and right now, Tom Beck, I want a mouthful and then a cuntful. And if you're got anything left after that, I want it up my ass!"
She got the mouthful with about five more shuttles of her gripping lips along the tingling shaft. I sank my fingers into her dark red hair and pumped it to her, her tongue going wild around my spurting cockhead.
Then she pulled me down atop her, falling back, throwing her legs up and around me, popping my prick into her grasping gash before it had time to shrivel. I bridged up over her, content to let her do the work for a while, and she began a circular whipping whirl of her lean pelvis that set fire to every surface of my startled rod, swizzling it crazily in her copious juices and the milking clutch of that highly talented cunt.
After maybe a dozen circuits of my pricktip around her cervix, I couldn't stand to be passive any longer. I dropped onto her, and as her legs slid down to entwine with mine, I jackhammered straight in and out, panting, fucking her ears with the tips of my thumbs as I grasped her head and brought it up for a tonsil-diving deep kiss. Lanky and hatchet-faced she might be, but this broad knew how to fuck!
I don't know if she came. She may have been coming from the minute I stuck it in her; I just don't know. But I came, and that second coming was like the end of the motherhumping world! Behind my closed eyelids I saw an explosion of sparkling white, as the white fire streaked along my prick and spread through my spasming guts. Then I saw red ... and then black, and something hotter than the sun took hold of my head and pushed it straight down through my body to my balls...
The next thing I knew, I was on my back, and Laurel was across the room, locked in a tight sixty-nine with Don Harvey. And draped across his legs were those of Irene Eldridge, who was on top in a jerking, groaning sixty-nine with Rex Cahill.
I rolled over and checked the rest of the room. At the far end, Sandy still lay where Skowron had parked her, but he had rolled aside, and none other than Myra Deering was now crouched between my slut-wife's splayed and shaking thighs, her nose and mouth buried in Sandra's pumping crotch. One of Myra's hands clutched Sandy's buttock, and the other was flung out to the side, optimistically at work on Skowron's sagging cock.
As I watched this strange threesome, Jack Deering and Alice returned to the room, and they too were attracted by the scene. Deering jogged toward them, his cock flopping. He knelt behind his wife and began to lick her snatch and asshole. Alice, close behind him, squatted casually over one of Skowron's feet, placed his big toe carefully against her clit, and then just hovered there, squirming a little as she watched Sandra writhe and spasm and squeeze her own tits in response to Myra's tongue-work.
I was about to move closer myself, and perhaps offer Alice a chance to revive my shrunken cock, when Eldridge and Sharon rejoined the party.
Eldridge apparently had the same idea I did, and he got to Alice first. But the plushy, sickly-white billows of Sharon's body were obviously available, and she didn't even wait to be asked.
She was standing beside me, and as soon as I'd rolled onto my back again, she stepped across my face and squatted, pressing the plump, sopping folds of her black-fuzzed cunt to my mouth. Leaning forward, she went to work on my cock with both hands and her extended tongue.
I ate her feverishly for a while, not really enjoying it for its own sake, but hoping it would help me get hard again. And when it didn't, when Sharon's wet and wild attentions to my cock couldn't, I decided that maybe the problem was my being on the bottom.
Without warning, I flipped my hips up hard, poking Sharon in the eye with my soft stalk. I got a foot planted, grabbed her cushiony ass and rolled to the left, coming up on top, my nose still swimming in the warm goo of her excited snatch.
Yes; this was better. Now when I raised my head for a moment I could see the other swappers at play, and the motion of my hips as I tried to help Sharon whip me into shape was more natural.
The other members weren't lying down on the job, either, I noted. Laurel and Harvely had swapped with Irene and Cahill, and both couples were now fucking away like mad, side by side and occasionally bumping each other with flailing arms, spasming legs and writhing torsos, going at it like happy pigs in a mudhole.
Even Vic Skowron had been revived, and as I looked up from Sharon's seething chasm the next time, it was to see him drag Myra Deering roughly away from Sandra's crotch and Jack's mouth, lift her bodily over his upthrust cock, and spindle her neatly.
Beside them, Eldridge and Alice had progressed to a full-bore fuck, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he thumped his loose-slung balls against her fluttering asscrack his cock hilt-deep.
Deering had seemed a little dazed when his wife's delectable underside was so abruptly whisked out of reach of his tongue. He just stayed there on hands and knees, head tipped to one side like a lost puppy.
But Sandra soon came to his rescue. No sooner did she feel a draft on her snatch, with her Lesbian licker's sudden departure, than she began to hunch her way forward in a jerky, hip-and-shoulder snakewalk that soon brought her fuzzy hump in contact with Deering's chin. But when he scrunched down and sank his tongue into her needy hole, she began to babble again.
"Noooo! Cock, now! I need COCK!" Her arms shot straight up, open wide, as if she was hoping a whole paratroop division would miraculously" descend on her with pricks at the ready. "Oooooh, smash me! FUCK me!! Gaawd, please, I need your cock!"
Still looking dog-dumb, but also dog-eager, Deering raised his head, tongue lolling, and leaped forward to cover her thrashing body with his, driving his spiky prick into her heated slot.