Chapter 3

Knotting his tie with a quick sure tug, Bill looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was putting on his parent uniform, having an appointment with a client in a few minutes.

Remembering the night before with Manda, Bill scowled and shrugged his strong shoulders into his conservatively cut coat. He brushed lint from the lapel and stepped in front of the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door. Manda had been a disaster area. He had carried her into the house and started to put her on the couch when he heard the first ominous rumbles from her stomach. He had barely managed to get her to the bathroom in time for her to convulse and pour out the putrid-smelling contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl as he steadied her. She had mumbled something about being sorry and feeling better as he guided her back to the couch, laid her out, and threw a blanket over her inert body. The experience had left him hollow and disgusted.

His prediction of the night before had come true when Manda arose in the morning. She looked and had said she felt god-awful. Fixing her breakfast while she took a needed shower, Bill had hardly contained his impatience to get rid of her. He had a feeling of utter and genuine relief when he dropped her at the agreed upon corner and pulled his small car away from the curb. Her parents were waiting and they deserved her. He'd earned his money.

Glancing at his watch, Bill walked into the plush living room and looked around. His spacious house in the Hollywood hills was the one real luxury he permitted himself. His whole personality was wrapped up in this house. It wasn't really a big house, but it was comfortably commodious. Perching precariously on the side of a steep canyon, the full-length windows looked out on a panoramic view of the city below. The living room opened onto a terrace which stretched across the entire front of the house. There was only a single bedroom, but that was all he needed. His kitchen was compact and efficient.

Decorating the house carefully and tastefully, Bill had unknowingly made the home an imprint of himself, a monument to his dichotomy. Psychedelic paintings in black light, giant posters, and symbols colored the walls. Works of twisted welded sculpture stood on tables and cabinets. Grotesquely plump African fertility statues in black wood looked across the expanse of thick carpet and plushly rich, leather sofas and chairs which accented the fireplace set in a rough rock wall in one corner. Bill sat down on one of the chairs facing the fireplace, letting his hand-tooled leather shoes rest comfortably on the long-haired steer hide laid appropriately in front of the fireplace. Relaxing as the softness of the chair enveloped him, Bill looked up at the beams of the ceiling holding up the roof with their massive rough-hewn strength. The whole atmosphere was permeated with an air of masculinity. He liked it.

Putting his restful solitude aside, Bill rose to answer the ringing doorbell. Mrs. Martin was right on time, he observed, looking at his watch. She must be worried.

She stood on the rock and concrete porch, a small piece of white paper fluttering in her hand. She was younger than he had thought, and better-looking. As a matter-of-fact, she was absolutely beautiful.

"Mr. Sherman?" she asked hesitantly, a cloud of doubt crossing her eyes.

"That's right, Mrs. Martin," Bill said, stepping back from the open doorway to allow her room to get past.

Brushing by her to lead the way into the living room, Bill caught the rising scent of her perfume. It was heavy with promise but light in its fragrance. Ushering her into the living room, Bill let his eyes rove over her figure. She took good care of herself, he could tell that right away. Her jet black hair, partly covered by a trim hat, was swept up off the back of her neck. The simply cut, but modernly chic, two-piece tailored suit she wore had the look of rich luxury and fine workmanship. She was class, he concluded after his quick perusal.

Looking about, as if trying to get a sense of direction, the woman was completely unaware of Bill's evaluating gaze.

"Very interesting place you have, Mr. Sherman. It's not at all what I expected. But then neither are you," she said, turning to face him.

"Thank you very much," said Bill gesturing toward the couch. "Won't you sit down?"

She placed herself carefully on the edge of the couch, smoothing her skirt under her as she did so.

"It's a little early, but would you like a drink?" he asked.

"Maybe a little later," she replied. "I'd really like to get started if you don't mind."

Flat and appraising, her eyes drilled into him as he sank into an overstuffed chair opposite her.

"My niece, Terri, left home about two weeks ago and my husband and I haven't been able to locate her through the regular channels. You said you might be able to help when you called in response to my ad. Is that true?"

"Possibly," Bill said evenly, "It depends largely on whether or not Terri is in the Los Angeles area. There has been a movement to Big Sur, Colorado, and New Mexico lately. Have you tried those areas?"

Pulling off her white gloves, she waited before answering. "Yes, but we got nowhere. Both my husband and I know that she is in the Los Angeles area somewhere because she wrote a letter to a girl friend. Unfortunately, the police have not been very encouraging, it seems that they are swamped with runaways," she said with irritation sharpening her voice.

"That's true," he said, watching her as she took a filter-tipped cigarette out of her small purse and nervously tapped the end on the heavy, hatch cover coffee table. "And, even if they were not swamped, it's extremely doubtful whether or not they could find her anyway. If they did it would be by the purest chance."

"Why?" she asked, flicking a gold lighter into a steady flame and touching it to the end of her cigarette.

"Because the police represent authority, and authority is resisted by hippies because the police are the personification of all that they repudiate within the established society," Bill said flatly.

Taking a long puff of her cigarette, Mrs. Martin let the smoke curl over her lips. "Why would Terri want to become a hippie or even associate with those kind of people? I've worked hard to bring her up right, with all the things that money could buy and then some, just so she would have the best. Now she's run off for no reason I can understand and apparently taken up with these hippies, with their sex and dope and all of that. I just plain don't understand her at all," she said in angry frustration.

Getting to his feet, Bill started pacing up and down the room, stopping only long enough to light his own cigarette and draw deeply. He looked at Mrs. Martin with a frank, open stare, which was returned with a flicker of challenge. "I'll need Terri's picture the more recent the better."

"Of course, Mr. Sherman, I brought one along," she said, digging into her handbag and pulling out a small manila envelope. She handed it to Bill without comment.

After sliding the color picture from the envelope, Bill looked at it closely. It was a short-haired version of the dancing blonde he had met the night before. "Just how badly do you want to find Terri?" he queried the woman sitting firmly on the couch.

"Implying what, Mr. Sherman?" she asked sharply.

"Implying nothing, Mrs. Martin, but I have other commitments and if you expect me to give your matter special consideration then we had best come to an understanding right out front as to what and how much that extra consideration will be."

"You don't beat around the bush, do you, Mr. Sherman? I like that it shows forcefulness and self-confidence. To be frank, Mr. Sherman, I want Terri back home within ten days. If you can do that, I'm prepared to make it worth your while. Understood?"

"Why all the rush?" Bill asked.

"I really don't think that is any of your business," she bristled. "If you locate Terri in ten days, you can make a lot of money, if you just want to ask a lot of personal questions that are none of your concern, then any further discussion is fruitless," she said, rising from the couch, her eyes glinting with anger.

Bill reassessed the woman standing a few feet away. She was hard. Harder than he had originally thought. He was picking up some heavy vibes and he didn't like them. She was holding out when there was no reason. He decided to accept the challenge her hard eyes were thrusting at him. "Listen, Mrs. Martin, the fuzz either can't or won't help you. So if you have a deadline to meet and I can deliver for you, then you need me more than I need you. Since that is the case, we play the game my way. I call the shots all the shots. Either we play by my rules or I pick up my marbles and go home."

They were standing a few feet apart. Their only contact, the projections of their wills centered in the pinpoints of their pupils and locked in a silent, but violent struggle for power. Time stopped. Only their minds functioned. Silent wills leaped into the intervening space, clashing, twisting, and struggling for ultimate power. The air crackled with the tenseness of the battle silent but awesome.

Bill hung on with a fierce, stubborn pride that had been his hallmark all of his life. He'd hung on through a fatherless childhood, through the uphill grind to get an education, and in the slime-coated rice paddies of Vietnam. He'd been tempted many times to chuck the whole thing, to back off, extricate himself from an uncomfortable position, but he had always hung in there, casting aside his doubts and fears.

Even as he watched, his eyes unwavering, Bill saw Mrs. Martin falter, then, with a sigh, break the hold of their locked eyes. She fumbled in her handbag and drew out a long, filter-tipped cigarette. Bill quickly stepped forward, his flaming lighter extended.

"Thank you, Mr. Sherman," she said, drawing in the smoke. "Since we are going to be working together, may I call you Bill? It seems a little more friendly."

Bill Sherman's face broke out into a smile as he watched Mrs. Martin return to her seat on the couch and cross her legs, showing the tautness of her thighs. She patted the cushion next to her, saying, "Sit down, Bill, and I'll tell you the whole story, so you'll understand."

Sitting down next to her, Bill made a mental note of the new softness that was expressed in Mrs. Martin's face and posture. She was relaxed, seductive even. He relaxed against the cushions and waited.

"You're very strong-willed, Bill. I like that. It means that once you take something on, you'll stick with it. But we can take that up a little later," she said, placing her hand lightly on Bill's arm.

He felt the warmth penetrating the cloth covering his arm. There was just the hint of tightening in the fingers. Bill flexed the muscles in his arm to return the implied offer.

"Suppose you tell me why it is so important that you get Terri back within ten days," he said evenly, pretending to ignore the pressure on his arm.

The hand left his arm, and he looked into her frank, brown eyes, smoldering now with deep fire.

"As I said, I'm Terri's legal guardian. Her parents and an older brother were killed in an auto accident when she was only three. Her father was my older brother. After the accident, the court awarded me custody, but my brother's will provided that his attorneys be named as executors of his estate. To be very frank, Bill, I think that those shyster lawyers have robbed the estate blind, so I need Terri to testify in court in order to be named executor of the estate as well as her guardian. So that's why time is important; the court hearing on my petition is only ten days away and without Terri I really don't stand much of a chance of winning."

Fanciful numbers spun through Bill's brain, clicking over with calculator-type regularity. This was money big money--money enough to buy his freedom if he played his cards right. He wouldn't have to cop out to the Establishment. If he could pull this trick off, he could have his cake and eat it too. He was human enough that the idea appealed to the larceny in his soul, but then those who never took advantage of a situation fell by the wayside. He decided to gamble, to push for as much as he could get.

"Okay, Mrs. Martin, just what's in this for me?"

"Would, say, a thousand dollars be fair, Bill?" she asked, smiling and leaning closer.

"Peanuts!" Bill almost barked. "You're playing for big stakes too. I'll lay it out in front for you. As far as I'm concerned, this hippie movement is dead. It's spread out in a hundred different directions. There's no centralization anymore. So, to make a long story short, I'm looking for a new line of work, but one that gives me the freedom I want. You want control of a large estate; I want part of the action."

Again, Bill watched as Mrs. Martin's eyes hardened and narrowed to tiny slits as she looked at him with a new and frankly appraising manner. He could almost hear her mind clicking over as she weighed his demand. As he watched, the hard look softened and she leaned closer. His nostrils took in the scent of her and he was pulled toward her by the magnitude of her physical beauty. His eyes reassessed her figure with a quick flicker. When he again looked at her face, she was smiling broadly.

"Just which part of the action did you have in mind, Bill?" she teased.

He'd been caught with the meat in his mouth and he knew it, so he played along and leaned back on the couch and smiled, "How about the whole ball of wax? Sort of a melding of talents," he answered.

"A very bold offer, Bill, but an intriguing one. Why don't you let me sleep on it? Since you feel that locating Terri offers no major problems, then time loses some of its importance, doesn't it?"

Still playing the game, Bill decided to move boldly. "Since you want to sleep on it, will it be your place or mine?" he asked with only the hint of sarcasm edging his voice.

"You play a very bold game," she admitted, standing up and smoothing the tiny wrinkles on her skirt. "Which way is the bathroom?" she asked.

"Through that door and at the end of the hall," Bill replied with a wave of his hand and a nod of his head.

"Thank you," she said, striding across the room and then pausing at the indicated doorway. "By the way, my name is Millicent," she informed him as she turned and disappeared through the door.

Closing the folded louvered doors of his closet, Bill finally heard the toilet in the bathroom flush and the door open. While Millicent Martin had been occupied getting ready, Bill had taken the time to pull off his clothes and hang them neatly in the closet.

Working quickly, Bill had first .closed the curtains, shutting off the late afternoon view of the canyon, and turned down the zebra-striped spread on his king-size bed, exposing the red satin sheet and pillow cases.

As he turned toward the door, she walked through it, looking small, wrapped in his short hapi coat with the vividly colored Japanese designs on the back. Her perfectly rounded thighs and legs were accented by the coat's short length. Bill had been so busy evaluating her legs that he had completely forgotten about his own complete nakedness.

"I suppose you greet all of your bedroom guests that way," she said, walking to a chair and neatly draping her dress, slip, and other underthings across the back.

"Just about," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his elbows. Swinging his feet onto the bed, Bill stretched out on his back, his fingers locked comfortably behind his head. His limp prick arched across one thigh in a wrinkled bow.

She walked across the room and stood in front of him, her legs spread slightly, hands on hips. "Well?" she asked archly.

"Well, get in bed," Bill replied, lying back on the red satin sheet, his eyes dropping to take in the smooth skin that stretched tight over her thighs and legs. Her muscles were flexed, she was still a little mad because she had lost in their first battle of wills. Now she was using her sex in a second effort to dominate him. Fuck you, he thought.

Unballing the fists that she had defiantly placed on her hips, Bill watched from beneath half-closed eyes as she brought her hands together over the firmly tied bow holding the two sections of the coat closed. Pulling at one end of a strand with one hand, she held the garment closed with the other. With deliberate slowness, she tugged at the sash until it fell free and hung loosely from the belt loops in the back of the jacket. Still holding the edges of the hapi coat together, she placed a bare knee on the edge of the mattress and looked down at Bill's hooded eyes, and then at his flaccid cock hanging limply against the deep tan of his thigh.

"You could at least show a little enthusiasm," she said, shrugging the coat off her shoulders but still holding it closed with her hand.

The action was done deliberately to provoke Bill, but he wasn't about to fall for that old bit. She'd have to run some heavier numbers before he'd play her game. He was playing for keeps and she'd have to play his game or not play at all.

He looked at the swelling mounds of her breasts pushing out from the sides of the vee made by the coat as it gaped open. The bottom hem had risen slightly, giving him a tantalizing view of her well-formed thighs. As he watched, Millicent let the coat drop to the floor and stood at the side of the bed, letting Bill's eyes wander over her entire body indiscriminately.

Hard, pointed breasts crested by tiny, dark nipples met his eyes as he took in her body with a sweeping glance. The lateral lines made by her ribs were barely visible and framed the firm line of muscles running down her belly and into the puffy mound of her richly dark pubis. Bill noted that the hair over her mound twirled and swirled in a thick mat of tight curls that shaped themselves into a perfect triangle.

Bill sensed that her every move was calculated for its maximum effect. She was trying to get him hung up on her body, taunting him by flaunting her beauty before him in an effort to gain back the advantage she had lost in their verbal exchange in the living room.

Kneeling on the bed, she leaned over his body, letting the silky, soft strands of her hair brush across his legs and thighs. Bill clamped his teeth together. This was his moment of truth. He'd have to be at his best in the next few minutes if he was going to win the biggest prize he had ever tried for in his short life.

As her long, loosely hanging hair brushed sensuously back and forth across the hardened muscles of Bill's belly, she shifted her body with a natural flowing movement, straddling his legs with her parted thighs. "Just lie back and relax," she cooed, "you're going to like this."

She was going to top-ride. Bill ordinarily enjoyed this from time to time, but now wasn't the time. He waited while her face moved closer to his, her lips parting in invitation. The silky veil of her hanging hair closed around his face and head, her lips moved toward his own, her tiny tongue-tip flicking out and across the freshly scrubbed surface of her lips, making them glisten in the soft afternoon light that filtered through the drawn curtains. Her hands slipped up over his strong shoulders, gripping him with firm fingers. Her head cocked to one side and then their lips met, fused, and sealed themselves together in an ever-increasing heat.

During the several moments that it had required Millicent Martin to work her way over Bill's prone body, he had worked out his strategy. The time for talking was past. He had already won that round, so he didn't have to risk his position by reopening a verbal exchange. Now was the time for action. No words, just action, his kind of action.

Despite his efforts, the first tingling waves of sensation ran their twinkling fingers over his flesh as he felt her body pressing closer to his own. After their lips joined as one, he shot his tongue deeply into her mouth before she could insert hers into his. As their saliva-coated tongues dueled in her mouth for supremacy, Bill felt the hard points of her puckered nipples press hotly against his chest. Then the bristling brush of her pubis rubbed against him as her hips settled lower over his crotch. She swayed from side to side, letting their crotches scrape together sensuously.

Lifting his arms, Bill encircled her small back, gripped her behind the neck, and, with a sudden, heaving lunge, bucked upward. Twisting to the side with his hips, Bill threw Millicent off his body and onto her back. Pinning her soft shoulders to the bed, Bill straddled her body, his powerful thighs resting on either side of her rib cage. His hands gripped her wrists and held them secure despite her frantic struggle to free herself. Their struggle caused Bill's cock to sway back and forth in front of Millicent's face. Her eyes rolled from side to side as she watched, almost hypnotized, as the thick piece of wrinkled meat slapped each of his thighs. Scooting forward on the bed, Bill felt the backs of his thighs rub across the hard pinpoints of her perky nipples. They drilled two spots of heat into his skin.

"You sonofabitch" she spit at him, "I don't want it this way."

"You'll take it any way I want to give it to you," he said between gritted teeth. Leaning forward, Bill pinned her arms under his knees, his cock swinging freely just above the thin line of her tightly compressed lips. Her eyes again glued themselves to the swaying bulbous head with its slitted tip.

Millicent made a final effort to break loose from the hold that had her pinned to the bed, but Bill was firmly in place and could not be shaken from his perch despite her wriggling and arching. The strain of her efforts brought small beads of perspiration to her forehead and upper lip. They caught the light in the room and shimmered as she strove to break free. Her thrashing body was pressing hard against Bill's, making him aware of the firmness of her flesh and the wiry strength that lay hidden beneath the voluptuous exterior.

As their bodies rubbed together in their mutual struggle, Bill felt the first waves of passion ripple across his stomach. His cock jerked and rose away from his thighs, thickening and straightening in its journey upward. It bowed out in a shallow arc, the head swelling as it filled with blood, which changed its color from a rosy pink to a deeper vermilion.

As his prick rose, stiff and proud, Bill released his vise-like grip on Millicent's wrists. Her arms were still pinned beneath the weight of his knees. Holding his stiff prick in one hand, he wrapped his fingers into the dark strands of her hair and yanked hard. Her mouth opened in a cry of protest and Bill's prick slid in between her lips and settled in her mouth. The sudden, sharp pain and the foreign intrusion into her mouth made Millicent struggle fiercely to dislodge Bill from his superior position and reject the hot flesh that was invading her mouth.

Bill held her head tightly with both hands and as she gagged out a cry of insult and indignation, Bill slid more of his cock into her mouth until at last he felt the bulbous head bump against the back of her throat. He half expected her to bite down on his inflamed prick, but the harsh grip of her teeth never came. Her struggling efforts slowly ceased and her resisting mouth held his rampant member loosely within its warm, wet cavern.

"Now suck it and don't give me any shit!" Bill spat at her, shoving his hips forward.

Bill could feel her body loosening and relaxing, her taut muscles becoming softer and more pliable. Her slack mouth tightened around his cock, and her cheeks pulled inward as she drew hard on the staff that had invaded her mouth. Bill felt her tongue slide wetly across the head of his prick as he suspended himself above her prostrate body, his hand still gripping her head tightly in its grasp. He'd won. She was doing it his way.

He relaxed, letting the sensual sensations created by Millicent's sucking mouth engulf his body, making it tingle and surge with waves of pentup passion. He matched the sensual undulations of his bodily systems with a gently rolling sway of his hips. The action sent his cock in and out of Millicent's mouth. He was literally fucking her in the mouth and was enjoying it. He didn't give a shit whether she liked it or not, he liked it fine.

Releasing his tenacious hold on Millicent's hair, Bill rested his weight evenly on both hands. Moving his knees back, he unpinned her arms. This would be her chance, if she wanted to use it. She could fight back again, but Bill didn't feel that she would. He had established himself as the dominant partner.

With the weight off her arms, Millicent circled Bill's waist, rubbing his flanks and hard, knotted stomach. Forcing her elbows between his thighs, she gripped the hard shank of his cock so that he could not push too far into her mouth. With her other hand, she cupped his hanging balls, kneading and rolling the two spheres that were encased in the wrinkled sac hanging between his legs and bumping against her chin.

Bill felt her tongue as it slid and lapped at the head of his prick. Millicent was holding his prick so that he could not thrust too deeply into her mouth and gag her. He thrilled to the wet clamp of her mouth as it drew at his cock, her spit dribbling down the stem and dripping off the end as she drew it free of her mouth.

Holding him back, Millicent took several deep breaths and, as Bill watched from above her, snaked her tongue out to caress the slit at the top of his cock. Tilting his dick in the air above her face, she let her tongue play along the underside of the shaft and around the base of the glans. It jerked with involuntary spasms, the throbs pulling her hand and taking his cock temporarily out of reach of her thrusting tongue. Having permitted her this one indulgence, Bill eased his hips forward with persistence, reinserting his dong in her mouth. As she held it tightly in her fist, Bill rocked back and forth, sending his meat in and out of her mouth like a piston in a well-oiled cylinder. His bodily fluids were being drained from every part of his body and centering in his bludgeoning cock.

Millicent's tongue was increasing its licking and stroking of his hot flesh as it pushed in and out of her mouth. She sucked hard as Bill pulled his cock from the tightly compressed restriction of her lips. He liked her mouth. She could suck fairly well, and could be an expert with a little practice.

Bill felt the come boiling in his balls as she turned them over in her hands. The viscous fluid was building in the small reserve deep within his body, gathering and waiting for the time it could pour forth and saturate everything in front of the spitting cock's head. That would be one way, Bill thought, but it wasn't the one he had planned. There would have to be more than just fucking this chick in the mouth until he came. He would have to establish his dominance beyond a shadow of a doubt. If he didn't hurry, it would be too late.

Rocking back, Bill pulled his dripping cock from Millicent's mouth. Her lips pouted with displeasure and her brows knitted themselves together in a deep frown. Bill looked down with pleasure. She liked sucking him off. So far so good. Now for the next step.

"Bill? Let me finish you this say. I'll make it good for you, I promise," she said, a pleading look in her eyes.

Either she was one hell of an actress, or he had it made from here on out, Bill thought to himself as he took his weight off her body and knelt by her side on the bed.

Without a reply, he grabbed Millicent Martin roughly by the hips and pulled her over on her stomach. The rounded cheeks of her small ass jutted upward and flattened slightly as she relaxed the bunched muscles that banded her backside. Reaching down, Bill grabbed Millicent's ankle closest to him and pulled it roughly aside, spreading her legs in a wide vee. Walking on his knees, Bill got between her outspread legs and started pulling her hips back so that she was pulled to her knees. She resisted again, attempting to stay flat on the bed.

"No! Not that way! I don't like being fucked like a bitch dog in heat. Let me turn over and do it that way, or let me got on top. I like that the best. Let me do it my way, you'll love it, I promise," she pleaded with him.

Her cries and arguments fell on deaf ears. Bill was busily shoving her legs further and further apart and getting her knees planted well under her body. She was now standing up on her knees. Circling her supple waist with one arm, Bill grabbed the back of her neck with the other and pushed her forward harshly. Her head turned to the side as she was jolted forward by the force and power of his arm, her hips held in place firmly against his tightened belly. She didn't even have a chance to break her fall with her hands. Her head hit the pillow and she buried her face in its soft folds, gripping the satin sheet with her balled fists.

"You'll take it any way I want to give it to you," Bill snarled as he guided his prick toward her now open pussy.

"No! You'll hurt me. I'm not ready," she complained bitterly as the head of his cock nestled itself in the soft folds of her cunt's lips.

"Don't shit me, you cunt!" Bill exploded, "You're practically a running river," and he jammed himself forward, burying half his length in her slushing channel.

He felt the resistance of her flesh as the tissue grudgingly gave way before his relentless prick as it plowed into her with all the force he could put into the stroke. Gathering himself, Bill looked down the sloping curve of back as it fell away from his hips. Bending himself, Bill lurched forward again, jabbing his hips forward and yanking back on her hips which he still had tightly gripped in his hands. He sank all the way into her, his long column of superheated flesh engorging the tight cavern of her cunt. His balls swung forward as his belly bumped against her rump and they bounced solidly against the tightly stretched skin covering the cheeks of her upturned ass. It felt good. Real good. He was in her balls deep.

Millicent was biting hard into the pillow under her face. Bill remembered with satisfaction that she had grunted when his cock's head had hit the bottom of her channel. He didn't want to pull out of her right then, but wanted her to feel his presence, to acknowledge that she knew that he was fucking her like a bitch dog in heat. He was going to make her like it, because he liked it.

Rotating his hips, Bill stretched and expanded her cunt. He heard the slurping sounds of her wetness as he moved his cock around in a tight circle in her box. He felt the resistance and resilience of her tight cunt as he ground into her with all his strength. His actions soon brought small moans from Millicent as she lay with her head buried in the pillow. When he judged the time to be right, Bill pulled his cock slowly from her hole, savoring the sucking pull of her clinging flesh as his fluid-slickened pole slid out of her.

Releasing his tight grip on her hips, Bill moved his hand over the firmness and slope of her back, kneading and stroking the smooth expanse of skin that lay open and available to him. He was pulling his hips back and when only the head of his cock was lodged securely within the grip of her slit, Bill rested for a moment on his haunches. His fingers made small fluttering trails over the satin-like smoothness of her thighs and belly, deliberately missing the open wet slit that cleaved her between the thighs. His hands moved up her body and he cupped her hanging breasts as they hung swaying above the bed. Searching, he found the tiny tips and ran his fingers across the tender surfaces until they were hardened and inflamed. The moans coming from the pillow were increasing as he nipped and pulled at her nipples.

Taking as much of her breasts into each hand as he could, Bill gripped the warming mounds of her breasts tightly and then lunged forward suddenly, his hips jabbing ahead, sending his cock deeply into her. The knobby surfaces of his cock ripped into her and brought a ringing cry from her lips.

Without a pause, Bill began plunging in and out of her cunt, exalting in the feeling of power and subjugation that he had over Millicent Martin. His entire body was alive, throbbing with the pure joy of fucking like he wanted to fuck and not giving a good damn for what the chick wanted. He wanted her to be repulsed, to be angry, to be unfulfilled in her needs. He was doing his thing and she'd have to adjust to his way of fucking and get what pleasure she could out of it.

Her moans increased as he stepped up the tempo of his thrusting hips and he drove himself into her body time and time again. His prick was raging with a cool, slick fire, his balls banged against her upturned backside, humping first one then the other cheek of her wide ass. His fingers tightened their grip on her breasts and he used her hanging tits to give himself added thrusting power as he pushed forward and pulled back. He could feel the hardened points of her nipples as they brushed back and forth across the palms of his hands.

The change was so subtle that he really didn't realize it until after several long moments. Millicent Martin was responding, becoming erotically excited by his wild thrustings and plunging into the depths of her womanhood. Bill, almost without realizing it, became aware that she was beginning to push back against his every stroke. Her moans were not moans of protest as they had started, but now were full moans of building pleasure and cries for fulfillment of pent-up desires and emotions. Bill reveled in his ability and power to bring this headstrong and iron-willed woman to his way of loving. To make her do and enjoy the very things that were the most repugnant to her. He had her now and it was time for the grand finale to sew it up tight.

Stretching carefully as he lunged into her and then pulled free with the steady, powerful piston-like strokes, Bill carefully opened one of the drawers on the nightstand next to the bed and withdrew a tube of lubricating cream. Sweat was rolling down his body and dripping onto Millicent's arched back where the droplets glistened in the soft light of the room. Bill twisted the cap off the tube and pinched the bottom, forcing a worm-like cylinder of the viscous material onto his middle finger.

Smiling inwardly, Bill exulted in the feeling of Millicent's supple body as it writhed beneath him, pushing back as he sent his ramrod-hard cock jabbing into her cunt. He could feel the muscles gripping his cock as it rammed deep in her pussy. Her entire vaginal channel was a mass of twisting, clamping muscles, pulling and tugging at his cock as it pulled free of the confining grasp of her.

He reached between their thrusting bodies and, with a single swipe of his finger, spread the cream down the opened crack of her ass and into the wrinkled star of her slightly open ass-hole. His touch caused her to writhe and push against him harder.

With a smooth, fluid movement, Bill pulled his cock free of her cunt and, rising higher on his knees, guided the bulging head toward the dark brown spot that glistened with the lubricating cream. Millicent protested the loss of the hot meat that had been ramming into her cunt, but made no move to protect her exposed ass-hole.

Holding the stem of his cock in one hand, Bill aimed the head at the rear orifice and lunged forward. The head hit the tight hole and bent as it encountered the tight resistance of her rear entrance. Jabbing his hips forward, the head insinuated itself in the open and lubricated gap.

Gathering himself, Bill dove onto Millicent's back, his hips grinding, pushing his cock into her rear hole.

"Christ! Not there! You're hurting me!" she screamed as her body twisted and attempted to pull away from the impaling piece of meat that was spearing into the tight channel of her ass.

Wrapping his arms about her waist to hold her in position for his attack, Bill relentlessly pushed more of his cock into her. He wanted to shove his cock right into her bowels, to make her feel the power of his manhood as it throbbed and grew within her protesting body.

"Fuck you," he growled, "Relax and enjoy it because this is the way you're going to get it!"

"Ow! You fucking bastard! Take it out, you're killing me! I've never had it that way before and I don't like it. You're going to rip me wide open," she shouted against the pillow as she tried, without success, to pull her body away from him.

Bill hung on tightly to her flailing hips and rammed his staff into her ass-hole until his belly rubbed her upraised butt and his balls banged hard against the taut skin covering the cheeks of her ass. In and out his prick raged as he fucked her ass with ever-increasing ferocity and fury. He could feel the tissues in her virgin channel protestingly expand to make room for his hot prick as it ripped in and out of her.

Her grunts and moans of protest were taking on another tone as he continued to drill his cock into her ass. They had softened into a groaning gasp which marked each new plunge and withdrawal. Bill's hands roamed over her back and down her flanks, coming to rest on the soft skin of her underbelly. Gripping the skin tightly, he pulled her back as he jammed himself forward to take her again. His fingers dug in so deeply that Bill was sure that there would be red marks on her perfectly clear white skin. He wanted that. He wanted her to remember just how she had been taken, the fierceness of it. The brutal joy of the use of her body.

Laboriously, Bill sucked air into his burning lungs as he sought to relieve the strain that his body was making upon his breathing. His entire body was starting to ache with the draining strain of his efforts. Sweat was popping out in small beads on his forehead and upper lip. A droplet formed between his knitted brows, gathered, then plunged down the straight line of his nose where it formed again, gathered, glistened for a moment, and then dropped to a spattering death on Millicent's back. Bill watched its fall with disinterest, observed the writhing figure beneath his plunging body, and threw himself over Millicent's back. With one hand he sought and found the slitted entrance to her cunt. Wiggling his fingers in the wet gap, Bill sought and finally found the distended, blood-filled nub of her clit. He pulled at it hard with his fingers. The slickened tissue slipped through his fingers and snapped back into Millicent's tissued groove. Again his claw-like fingers dove into the slot and gripped the little knob of Millicent's engorged clit. Bill, with practiced deliberation, established a pulling, snapping rhythm in time with the stroking of his prick into her ass. With his other hand, he reached down her body and grasped one of her hanging breasts, letting his fingers play across the nipple, feeling the fullness of the puckered tip. Bill squeezed the swinging globe of her hanging breast and pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers and hands were working in perfect rhythm with his thrusting cock as it jabbed incessantly into her ass.

"Oh, fuck!" Millicent cried into the pillow, her hips ramming back against his impaling prick, her butt swaying back and forth as she attempted to get the maximum sensation from all the erotically aroused areas of her body that Bill was stimulating with greater and greater force. "I'm going to come, goddamn you! Now give it to me hard!" she sputtered, half in rage, half in supercharged passion brought on by the flooding of her system with spasmodic fulfillment.

Bill's bunching muscles were screaming for relief from the terrible strain to which he had submitted them. His teeth were gritted together, locked in the effort to maintain the pace of his thrusting body. Other forces were at work within the powerful frame of his body. His come was boiling out of his balls, running through the labyrinth of ducts and tubes that interlaced his entire pelvic area. His milk gathered for that moment of final release that would send it spurting from the slitted end of his cock and splashing deep in the bowels of Millicent Martin, coating her entrails with a life-giving force that would never fulfill its function.

With a surging cry which started deep in his throat, Bill lunged forward with his entire weight, sweat breaking out in heavy droplets on his face and chest. The freshly gathered come, bubbling at the base of his cock started to move, to make its last quick voyage in darkness, before being spit into the warm channel of her bowels.

Bill felt the entire length of his cock swell with the building pressure and then the spurting release. Again the pressure built and was released as he shot his milky fluids into her rectum. He had never come like this before; it was a total offering an outpouring of lust and power and he was thrilled by the heady feeling it gave him.

As his come poured out of him and into Millicent's body, Bill felt the lust draining from his sweating body. He started to relax, his prick softening and sliding from Millicent's rectum as she squeezed his now flaccid prick with the still spasming muscles of her ass. Bill felt the head plop from the tight, dark ring, and as the fleshy connection was broken, he fell to the bed, pulling Millicent with him, his arms wrapped around her warm and responding flesh. His eyes closed as he floated on the euphoric cloud of afterglow, and he dozed.