Chapter 3
I told you I had two clients, so I guess I better tell you about the second one. He's my brother, Irving.
Among the respectable members of my far-flung family, it had long been a fascinating subject of debate as to who was the family black sheep-me or Irving. Both of us might be said to make good candidates for the position, but as far as I was concerned, there was no contest. Irving won the prize hands down.
In fact, the only reason I had managed to put up with Irving at all was because he was married to one hell of a sexy lady, whose pants I had long been dying to get into. As long as there was even a remote hope of that, I would tolerate even Irving.
So a couple of days after Jenny showed up, Irving came to the office to announce to me that he'd written a book. This did not exactly surprise me, even though Irving had never before shown any indications of being a writer of any kind. Irving was always doing nutty and unexpected things. It was a different nutty and unexpected thing every month and he was never very good at any of them. So when he plunked this manuscript on my desk, I quailed at the thought that I might have to read it.
"This, my boy," Irving announced grandly, "is the greatest novel of the century."
"Irving," I said, "go away."
"Is that any way to act?" Irving said, sounding hurt. "I am good enough, generous enough and compassionate enough to attempt to rescue your stillborn business by showering upon you the greatest literary masterpiece the world has ... "
"Irving. I have a headache."
"You are an ungrateful dolt," Irving said. "But I shall overlook your churlish indifference. Just read it. Read but a few pages and you will discover for yourself the genius, the ... "
"If you don't get out of here," I said, "I'm going to discover for myself what kind of toilet paper it makes."
"Bernie," Irving said. "Read it. For your own good, just read it."
"For your good, you mean."
"If you want to put it that way, okay. Okay. Read it as a favor to your brother."
"No," I said.
"Bernie ... "
"Offer me a bribe," I said. "So it'll be worth my time."
"A bribe? From one brother to another? From one ... "
"Yeah. A million bucks."
"I don't have it with me," Irving said. "Now, Bernie ... "
"How about your wife?" I asked. "For that, I'd read anything."
Irving stared at me. "You're kidding," he said. "Sylvia? My wife, Sylvia?"
"Yeah," I said. "Sylvia, your luscious wife. With the elegant figure and the bouncing tits and the bouncing hair and the beautiful legs. You might as well know, Irving, that I have lusted after Sylvia for all these many years. I'd like nothing better than to spend an afternoon in the sack with her. You want to hit me or something? I'd love to beat you up, Irving."
"You're kidding," Irving said again. "You really dig her? You mean if I fix you up with Sylvia, you'll read my book? You mean it?"
It was my turn to stare at him. "What the hell, Irving," I said. "She's your wife."
"Yeah," Irving said. "But listen, no sacrifice is too great for the cause of literature, right? Should I deprive future generations of an immortal work of art just because I wouldn't let my brother have a little bang with my wife? It would be pure ... "
"Hold it," I put in. "How about Sylvia? She may not be as dedicated to the cause of literature as you are. Not tomention that she's a lot saner. I've noticed that."
"Bernie," Irving said, "your lack of faith in me is my greatest cross to bear in life. Just promise me one thing. You get to hump Sylvia, you read the book. Okay? And consider handling it. Okay?"
"Deal," I said. "But maybe I better not hold my breath, Irving."
Irving looked at his watch. "It's three o'clock," he said. "Just stay right here until five. Okay? That's all I ask."
"I'm not going anyplace."
"You will not regret this," Irving promised. "Not only will you get to screw my wife, but you will become rich and famous as the agent for the newest, hottest, most fantastic ... "
"Goodbye, Irving," I said.
"Until that time, Bernie," Irving said, which is a line he got from some movie he had seen. And then, mercifully, he left.
Of course, I didn't really expect Irving to do anything about Sylvia, or to succeed if he tried; it was all the usual hot air. But I didn't have much of anything to do and there was this manuscript he had left on my desk. So, just for the hell of it, I started to take a look at it.
It was, of all things, a historical novel. The title was "The World, His Plaything," and it was all about the Crusades. It was a huge, panoramic story, chock-full of colorful characters, passionate romance, hard-fought battles, action, adventure, suspense, laughter, tears....
It was awful.
I made it through about a hundred pages ( which was about one-tenth of its length ) and then couldn't take anymore. I almost shuddered at the thought that if by some miracle Sylvia came through, I would have to read the rest of it. I wondered if it would be worth it.
That got me to thinking about Sylvia and I decided it would be.
Thinking about Sylvia, about her sexy body, about her cool exterior which I just knew had to hide a smoldering sensuality-I could never imagine her in bed with my clown of a brother-passed the time a lot more pleasantly than Irving's novel. At about ten to five, I was preparing to close up and go home when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Bernie? It's Sylvia."
My stomach turned over. "Hi, Sylvia," I said as casually as I could manage. "What's up?"
"I'm at the Warwick Hotel," she said. "Would you like to come over?"
I couldn't believe it. "What are you doing there?" I said stupidly.
"Come on over and see," she answered. Suggestively? I wasn't sure.
"Okay," I said. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"Room 821," she said and hung up.
I hung up, too, shaking my head in wonderment. After all this time ... But maybe she just wanted to talk to me about something. But then, why hadn't she come to the office? And why was I hanging around, wasting time?
I made a quick call to tell Amy that with any luck I would be home late and got out of there. I made it to the Warwick in twelve minutes. My heart was pounding as I got off the elevator on the eighth floor.
I knocked on the door of Room 821 and heard her voice in reply. "Bernie?"
"Yes."
"Come on in."
I went in. And I almost fell over. I stood there, staring, unable to move.
"Close the door, for God's sake," Sylvia said.
I did so, blindly and went on staring. I couldn't believe what I saw.
Sylvia was lying on the bed, smiling at me. She was wearing a yellow silk blouse and a brown skirt. Her feet were bare. She looked beautiful. Her long brown hair hung loosely around her face. Her deep, dark eyes were shining.
What was so astonishing about that? you ask.
The thing is, she was tied to the bed.
Her arms were stretched over her head, her wrists tied together with a length of rope, which was fastened to the headboard. Her legs were spread apart, each ankle held by a rope tethered to one of the posts at the foot of the bed.
That's what.
So I stared. And after a while I said, weakly, "What the hell ... ?"
"Well?" Sylvia said. "Are you just going to stand there?"
"I ... Jesus Christ," I said. "Did Irving do this?"
"Yes."
"But ... why?"
"Well, Irving said you wanted to make it with me. And I said the only way I would ever go along with that was if I was tied down. And he said that could be arranged. So I said okay, arrange it. So he did. And here I am."
I blinked. "Wait a second," I said. "I'm a bit confused here. I mean, are you doing this because you want to? Or not? I mean ... "
"Bernie," Sylvia said. "Have you ever known me to do anything I didn't want to?"
"No."
"So?"
"This is very kinky," I said.
"Bernie," Sylvia said. "You told Irving you wanted me. Do you want me?"
I took a few steps closer to the bed. I gazed down at her delicate outstretched body. "Sylvia," I said, "I have wanted you for years. I think you are a spoiled bitch, but I also think you are one of the sexiest women I know. I want to bang you so much that I'd ... I'd ... well, hell, I'd even read Irving's manuscript. All of it."
She smiled. "Then why are you standing there?"
I was damned if I knew. "Do you want me to untie you?"
"No," she said. "Not now, anyway. Maybe later. Right now I like it this way. Do you like it this way?"
"Any way I can get it," I said. I sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at the sweet shapes of her breasts, pulled tightly against the thin material of her blouse. I could see the little bumps of her nipples. "You can't imagine," I said, "how many times I have thought about what it would be like to put my hands on those sexy, bouncy goddam tits of yours. You just can't imagine."
"Do it," she said.
I did it.
"Jesus," I said.
"As you can probably feel," she said, "I'm not wearing a bra."
"Yeah," I said." I can feel that, allright. But then you never do, do you?"
"Seldom," she said. "Would you like to see them?"
"What do you think?"
"Nothing's stopping you."
"Wait," I said. "I'm not done feeling those fantastic knockers yet." It took me a while to finish fondling them. And when I stopped, it was only because there was so much else I wanted to do. The imprint of her hard nipples still burned my palms as I slid my hands down over her body. "Are you not wearing panties, too?" I asked her.
"Why don't you find out?"
My hands traveled down to the hem of her skirt, which came to just above her knees. Before I ventured beneath it, I let my hands slide appreciatively over her beautiful shapely calves. "Your legs blow my mind," I told her. "Every time I see you in shorts, I get a hard-on just thinking about having those great gams wrapped around me."
"Do you have a hard-on now?" Sylvia queried.
"You bet your delicious ass, I do!"
"Can I see it?"
"Later." My hands slid beneath the skirt and traveled slowly, reverently, up the soft sensuous columns of her thighs. I caressed the un-imaginably-wonderful flesh of her inner thighs, exposed to my touch because of her outstretched legs. When I got to the juncture of those legs, I felt the smooth material beneath my fingers.
"You are wearing panties," I said.
"Don't sound so disappointed," Sylvia said. "They're not welded on, you know."
My fingers crept under the panties and found her cunt.
"Bernie," she said, her voice softer now.
"Yeah."
"Bernie ... take my clothes off."
"I intend to," I said. My fingers were moving.
"Oooooo," Sylvia breathed. She squirmed her hips a little.
I took my hand away and grabbed hold of the hem of her skirt. I pulled it up around her hips, exposing the entire length of her widespread and mouth-watering legs. The sight of them made my head spin and I bent down and put my mouth on one, tasting it, running my tongue along that creamy secret flesh.
"Mmmm," Sylvia crooned. "Oh, Bernie ... "
After a while, I raised my head. "I have a question," I said, somewhat huskily.
"The answer is yes," Sylvia replied sexily.
"The question is, how am I going to get your panties off without untying your legs?"
"Rip them," she suggested. "Like in the dirty books."
"I don't read dirty books," I lied. "And I'm not that strong."
She sighed regretfully. "Well," she said, "there's a pair of scissors on the night table."
So there was. Sylvia-or, perhaps, Irving-had thought of everything. I got up to get it. While I was up, I figured I might as well take off my clothes, which I did.
Sylvia's eyes widened. "Oh, my God," she said wonderingly. "You weren't kidding. About the hard-on, I mean. Why, it's almost as big as Irving's!"
I almost hit her. "What!" I cried indignantly. "Almost as big?! Why, that pipsqueak never saw the day when he could raise anything bigger than a toothpick! What the hell do you mean, almost?" It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't actually seen Irving's equipment since we were mere striplings. Could it be ... No. Impossible.
Sylvia laughed softly. "Don't take it so hard, darling. Or soft, I should say. You're beginning to go down. You're plenty large enough, believe me. Why don't you tell me what you're going to do with that thing?"
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do with it, all right," I answered. "I'm going to stick it so far up your luscious pussy that it'll come out your mouth. And then maybe I'll do it the other way around. I'm going to fuck you in every hole you have and maybe in a couple you didn't know you had. And when I get through with you, you won't even be able to think of Irving without laughing."
"Sounds beautiful," Sylvia breathed. "What are you waiting for?"
I sat down on the bed again, putting the pair of scissors beside me. "I want to look at those tits now," I said, reaching for the buttons on the yellow blouse.
I opened them slowly, one by one, prolonging the anticipation of feasting my eyes on those boobs which had taunted me for so long. Finally I had the buttons all undone and I pulled the blouse out of the waist of her skirt and spread it open. There they were.
And they were every bit as wondrous as I had imagined. Not terribly big, but just right for her sexily-slender body. The position of her arms lifted them slightly so that the stiff pink nipples pointed up at me, precisely centered on the firm, round globes. No sag, no spread. Perfect, perky hemispheres, rising and falling enticingly with her breathing. I think I made a small funny sound in my throat before I bent to put my mouth over the nearest one.
"Ooohh," Sylvia moaned. "Ooh Bernie, that's nice. That's lovely. Oh yes, suck it. Aahhh ... "
Her nipple was a hard little spike under my tongue. I nibbled at it hungrily, savoring its taste and texture, then ran my tongue around the delicate areola.
Sylvia's breathing was rapid. "Bite it, Bernie," she panted. "Please bite it. Hard."
I bit it.
"AAAHHH!" she cried. "Yes! Harder!"
I lifted my head. I was breathing hard myself. "Goddammit, Sylvia. What are you, a masochist or something?"
"You bastard," she answered huskily. "What the hell do you care?"
"I don't care a shit," I said. "But I'm not playing any weird games. I just want to fuck you."
"Then fuck me!" she pleaded. "Fuck the hell out of me!"
I picked up the pair of scissors. "Let's get rid of these," I said and began to cut her panties off. The scissors were nice and sharp and in a moment the panties were split open. Her lovely cunt, surmounted by a soft brown triangle of pubic hair, was exposed to my view. I pulled the ruined garment from under her and dropped it to the floor, then cut through her skirt and got it out of the way. I didn't bother with the blouse; she was as naked as could be now. I took a long look at her curvy, writhing body, then lay down on top of her. I found her mouth with mine.
She moaned and her probing tongue immediately came out to meet mine, then slid past it into my mouth. My head pounded with the sensation of that long-desired body spread out beneath me. We kissed passionately for many moments and then, with a gasp, she pulled her mouth away.
"Fuck me," she panted. "Please fuck me, Bernie. Please."
"You know it!" I said. I found the opening of her cunt with my throbbing prick. "Here it is, sweetie," I said hoarsely and went into her.
I tried to go slowly, wanting to draw out the consummation of my long-delayed lust, but I couldn't hold back. That warm, eager quish seemed to suck me deeper and deeper and in a moment I was all the way inside her. We both groaned. With effort, I kept myself there, buried in her clutching vagina, while we kissed again. This time I put my tongue into her mouth, reaching as deeply as I could and exploring the moist, slippery cavern. She moaned loudly against my lips, her marvelous body twisting under me, straining against the ropes that held her.
I couldn't wait anymore. I began to fuck her, moving in and out of her sweet, tight cunt with slow, even strokes. Jesus, I thought, I'm really doing it; I'm fucking Sylvia, fucking my brother's lovely, sensuous wife. At last! And it's good, it's so damn good....
Sylvia took her mouth from mine, looking up into my eyes. Her own eyes were glazed.
"Rape," she whispered.
"What?" I said.
"It's rape," she said. "You're raping me."
"The hell I am," I said, moving harder.
"Yes. You are. You have me tied down, helpless. I can't move. I can't stop you. You're raping me. Raping me. Raping me ... "
What the hell, I thought. If she gets her kicks that way, let her. Meanwhile I went on with what I was doing. Personally I would have preferred to have her untied, so she could hold me and wrap those well-shaped legs around me and really enter into the spirit of things. But right now I wasn't complaining; I was having a great time. Her hips had begun to rise and fall in rhythm with my strokes and I could feel her squirming breasts beneath my chest, the nipples stabbing into my flesh as I moved in and out of her tautly-spread body.
"Oohh, don't," Sylvia moaned piteously. "Stop. Please stop ... "
I almost stopped before I realized that she didn't want me to stop at all. She was playing out her rape fantasy. I moved faster.
"Aaahhh ... she gasped. "Oh, don't, please don't ... I can't take anymore ... Oh God, no ... You're so big ... AAAHH! ... OOOOHHH ... Oh no ... Don't make me come ... Oh, please ... Please don't make me come ... OHH GOD! ... I'M ... OHH NOO ... NOOOO!! ... AAAAAAHHH!!!"
I felt her tethered body convulse beneath me, her cunt contracting around my cock as she climaxed. I kept moving as her orgasm subsided gradually into a succession of hoarse groans.
"Oh my God," she panted after a while. "You raped me!"
"Sylvia," I said, thrusting at her, "you're kind of flaky, but you've got a fantastic cunt. I could screw your sweet box all day long."
She ignored this. "I suppose," she said breathlessly, "you're going to make me suck your cock next."
"Now there was a tempting thought. "Eventually, no doubt," I said. "I sure would like to feel your sweet little mouth around my dork. But I want to fuck you some more."
"I can't stop you," she said. "I'm helpless."
"The hell with that, too," I said. "I'm tired of that." I pulled out of her suddenly, my dick jerking frustratedly in the air. "I'm going to untie you now."
"I see," Sylvia said. "You're going to subdue me with brute strength."
"Oh, Jesus." I moved to loosen the rope around her ankle. The knots were tight and I swore a little as I wrestled with them. "What did Irving do, get a Boy Scout merit badge in knot-tying or something?"
"He's had lots of experience," Sylvia answered smugly.
I got the rope undone and then untied her other leg. I moved up to her wrists.
"Can't you just leave my hands tied?" Sylvia asked. "Please?"
I looked down at her. I had moved up so that I was straddling her body, my stiff cock directly over her face. "I don't know," I said. "Ask me nicely." And I lowered myself so that my prick touched her lips.
"Oh, yes," she murmured, opening her mouth and taking my prong inside.
My head began to whirl. I forgot all about untying her and about everything else. I braced my hands against the headboard and angled my hips so that she could get a good grip on my penis with her lips. Which she did. Her tongue licked at the head, then made a circle around its circumference. I heard somebody moaning; I guess it was me. She sucked me more deeply into her oral channel and I helped her by moving my hips forward. Then back. Then forward again, farther this time, until I could feel the back of her palate. Her throat worked and her lips and tongue urged me on. I went on and felt her swallow me. She held me in her throat while her tongue swept back and forth on the underside of my prick. Her lips writhed around its base. My head pounded and I felt my cock begin to quiver. But I didn't want to come yet. Just in time, I jerked myself out of her mouth. She gave a cry of disappointment.
"Okay," I panted. "That was real nice. I'll leave your hands tied." I moved down her body and once again found her moist slit with my cockhead. "But I want those legs around me. And none of this rape stuff. I want to be fucked! Got it?"
"Yes, master," Sylvia purred.
I gave up. I slipped deliciously back into her glove-tight quim.
Her shapely legs came up and wrapped themselves around me, squeezing me hard. Her ankles locked behind my back, pulling me deeper into her. This was what I had wanted, what I had dreamed about. Every inch of her gorgeous thighs and calves caressed my body and I began to fuck into her once more.
And now, with her body no longer immobilized, she showed me what she could do with it. and as I had suspected, Sylvia was one sexually-talented lady. That body squirmed and arched and bucked and rolled. Her hips rose clear off the bed to meet me every time I plunged into her. Her breasts heaved and shifted like two live things underneath me and I had to wonder how her bound wrists could stand the strain. But I didn't have too much time to worry about it. I was too busy trying not to shoot my load as I pumped more and more rapidly into her wriggling love-hole.
"Oh fuck," she gasped into my ear. "Fuck. Fuck!"
Well, this is better than rape, I figured inwardly.
"Sylvia," I panted, "I always knew ... you had to be ... a hot little bitch ... under that goddam ... cool cover ... "
"You don't know the ... half of it," she panted back.
"Goddam, Irving ... doesn't deserve you," I said.
"The hell I don't," Irving said.
I gave a startled cry and would have leaped three feet in the air, except that Sylvia's locked ankles held me so tightly that I couldn't disengage myself from her. My head jerked around. Irving was standing by the door to the bathroom, from which he had evidently just emerged.
"Jesus Christ!" I yelled. "Irving! What the fuck ... "
Sylvia's body was still moving beneath me. "Don't stop," she groaned. "Never mind him. Don't stop ... "
The way her hips were moving, with her legs holding me to her, it didn't seem to make much difference whether I stopped or not.
"Goddammit!" I made a weak effort to pull free of her, but even then I didn't really want to leave that beautiful bouncing bod. The hell with it, I thought. I'll kill Irving later. "Have you been there all the time?" I demanded.
"Of course," Irving said. "I have to guard my wife's good name, you know."
"Damn you!" I gritted. "As soon as I finish screwing the hell out of your wife's good name, I'm going to throw you out the goddam window!"
"Now, now," Irving said. "Let's not fly off the handle, Bernie. After all, I would have delayed my appearance until a more propitious moment, if you hadn't started insulting me. I can't be expected to just stand by while ... "
"Irving," I said, trying to keep my voice down. "Irving, I don't want to talk to you. Not until I have finished fucking your wife-who, I repeat, you do not deserve."
"I believe you're just jealous, Bernie," Irving replied, "because Sylvia said that my prick is bigger than yours. It's childish to resent that, Bernie. Mere physiological size is really no indication of ... "
With a roar of fury, I pulled out of Sylvia, strongly enough this time to break the hold of her legs. Rising to my knees, I clambered up her body until my rigid prick was wagging in front of her eyes.
"Look at this!" I yelled, pointing at my porker as it loomed up from my crotch. "Look at it! Are you going to tell me that his thing is bigger than that? Well? Are you?!"
Sylvia was panting hard and moaning. "Bernie," she pleaded, "put it back in me. Please. I want to come ... "
"Answer me, goddammit!"
"Oh, Bernie ... " And she raised her head so that she could lick at the underside of the rearing prong. I started to pull it away from her, but I couldn't. Not with that tongue stroking at it in that maddening manner. Instead, I lowered my dick so that she could reach it more easily. And then farther, so she could take it in her gasping mouth....
I knelt there and let her suck me. I looked over at Irving. I couldn't see him too well; my eyes were blurred because of what Sylvia was doing to me. "How does it feel, Irving," I said meanly, "to see your wife sucking on your brother's cock? Look how she loves it, Irving. Look how she gobbles it down. She's swallowed it, Irving; she's taken my whole damn prick in her mouth."
Irving shrugged. "If she can take mine," he said, "she shouldn't have any trouble with yours."
"I'm going to kill you, Irving," I rasped. "As soon as I shoot my cum down your wife's sexy throat. Which I'm going to do ... right ... Oh, Jesus! ... right NOW!!"
And I did. It felt like gallons of boiling sperm were pouring out of my cock. My hips jerked again and again, pushing my prick deeply into Sylvia's throat with each convulsion. She swallowed and swallowed and still some of my jism spilled over and came running out of her mouth to drip down the sides of her pretty face. At last, when she had emptied me of everything I had, I pulled myself from her still-sucking mouth and collapsed on the bed.
"I'm still going to kill you, Irving," I panted weakly. "I just have to ... get my strength back."
"Oh, God," Sylvia was moaning. "I want to come ... I'm so hot ... "
"Bernie," Irving said reproachfully, "I'm surprised at you. You have left Sylvia unsatisfied, Bernie."
"I'll satisfy her, Irving," I said. "Right after I kill you-which will satisfy me. So don't worry."
"I don't think Sylvia wants to wait," Irving said. "So if you don't mind, Bernie, I'd better do it myself."
"That," I said snidely, "will be the day."
Irving started to take his clothes off.
"Oh, Christ," I said. "Don't be a jerk, Irving. Maybe I better kill you now, before you make an ass of yourself." I got up off the bed and started toward him. But then I stopped. Because Irving had just taken his shorts off. His cock was hard and erect.
And it was huge.
I couldn't say anything for a moment. It was hard to admit, even to myself, that my twirpy brother possessed a tool that outdid not only my own, but damn near any others I had ever seen. But the evidence was there before me, undeniable.
"Oh, shit," I said.
"Don't let it depress you, Bernie," Irving said and before I could hit him he moved past me to the bed. He put his hand over one of his wife's tits and fondled it gently.
"Irving ... " Sylvia whimpered. "Irving ... fuck me ... "
"Of course, darling," Irving said. "How would you like it? In the ass?"
"Oh ... yes ... yes ... "
"You're kidding," I said, before I could stop myself. "With that?" I pointed to his gigantic prong.
Sylvia rolled over onto her stomach, her arms still stretched above her head by the rope that bound her wrists. "Tie me, Irving," she gasped.
"Certainly, my dear." Irving spread her legs apart and once again tied each ankle with the ropes attached to the bedposts. With her legs stretched wide, her writhing body allowed me fleeting glimpses of her tiny, puckered anus between the rounded pillows of her buttocks.
"You can't do it," I said. "You'll kill her."
"Oh, no," Irving said placidly. "Sylvia's sweet asshole is amazingly adaptable. And we have a special process for loosening it up. It never fails. Isn't that right, darling?"
"Oh God ... " Sylvia moaned. "Yes. Do it, Irving. Oh please do it."
"Right away," Irving said. He went to where he had left his pants. He picked them up and pulled the belt out of the loops.
I stared. "Jesus," I said. "You're not going to ... "
Irving ignored me. He went back to the bed, doubling the thick black belt so that he held both ends in his hand. My knees felt weak. I stumbled to a chair and sat down.
"Ready, darling?" Irving asked.
"Yes ... Yessss ... "
Irving raised the belt and whipped it down with a loud, sharp crack across his wife's writhing asscheeks.
"AAAAHHH!" Sylvia cried loudly. "Oohh yes, Irving! Yes! Again!"
Irving did it again.
"AAAAIIIIEEEEE!! OOOhhh! Oh, wonderful, oh God, more ... more ... " Her body was tossing from side to side, straining hard against the ropes that held her. Trickles of perspiration ran across her smooth, creamy flesh.
Again Irving brought the belt down. Her cries got louder, her movements more frantic. She babbled, begged for still more. My mouth was hanging open as I watched. With all the things I had imagined about Sylvia, this was a scene I had never dreamed of.
"How's the asshole, darling?" Irving asked. "Nice and loose now?"
"Yes ... once more, Irving ... please ... please ... "
Irving gave her one more. It was the hardest one of all. She shouted out her joy, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"That ought to do it," Irving said. He dropped the belt and got onto the bed, crouching between Sylvia's shapely, widespread legs. He parted her butt cheeks with his hands and placed the tip of his incredible cock at the opening of her rectum.
"Put it in me!" Sylvia cried. "Fill me up with it! Now!"
No way, I thought. It's impossible.
But it wasn't impossible. As I watched incredulously, Irving pushed that superhuman whang, slowly but steadily, up into the tiny shit chute of his tethered wife.
"OH YES!!" Sylvia shrieked. "YEEEE-SSSS!! AAA HHHH! AAA IIIIII!!" She threw back her head and screamed as his monstrous tool burrowed deeper and deeper into her sexy backside. It seemed to go on forever and so did her screaming, until I was afraid she would bring the hotel management down on us. The same thing must have occurred to Irving, because he reached up with one hand and pushed her head down so that her face was buried in a pillow. She bit on it frantically, but the muffled noises still filled the room with their intensity. And Irving kept right on pile-driving in.
by the time he had buried himself to the hilt inside her anal passage, Sylvia was coming. Her luscious, bound body bucked and heaved more wildly than ever and the sobbing, gasping, shrieking noises coming through the stifling pillow were like nothing I had ever heard before. She climaxed with such violence that I wondered if she might even break the ropes which were cutting so cruelly into the straining flesh of her wrists and ankles.
She had barely begun to subside from the effects of her orgasm when another climax overcame her. And then, as Irving began to fuck in and out of her impossibly-stretched asshole, she seemed to go almost without a break from one orgasm to another, her body caught in an uncontrollable and seemingly-endless maelstrom of ecstasy. It went on and on and my cock was rigid again as I watched the screaming, tossing, sweating, convulsing woman tied to the bed, her husband pounding steadily at her rectum. My lust was mixed with disgust at the thought that my jerk of a brother was able to send her into realms of passion more profound than any she had reached with me.
After a long time, Irving finally came, grunting as he jettisoned his spunk up into Sylvia's belly, bringing one more scream from her mouth as her last explosive orgasm slammed through her. Irving fell on top Of her and their gasping, exhausted breathing was very loud in the sudden stillness of the room.
"Oh, Irving," Sylvia panted after a minute. "Oh, darling. I love you."
"I love you, too, Sylvia," Irving said.
How sweet. How fucking goddam touching. I never wanted to see either of them again. In a deep funk, I pulled my clothes on and got the hell out of there.
"Bernie!" Irving called as I went through the doorway. "Don't forget our deal, Bernie! Read the book! You'll love it!"