Chapter 1
Tony Jones had a big prick.
It was even bigger than usual this morning because Tony had been thinking about women and about what he would like to be doing to a woman. His cock was standing rampant, hard as iron and as hot as a heated crowbar.
He was stretched out naked on the bed in his one-room apartment, on his back, with his long, fat dong sticking up like a lighthouse from his loins, the knob glowing like a beacon atop the pillar of his nuts, bloated and filled with cum, like the rocky shoals below.
It was Sunday morning.
Tony usually managed to bring home a broad Saturday nights and thereby enjoyed many Sunday mornings of fucking and sucking, more leisurely than the frantic screwing of an evening. He was a good-looking dude, tall and lean and athletic. Those attributes, combined with the grand size of his cock, made it relatively simple for him to get laid.
But the night before he had been indecisive. He had vacillated, unable to decide which of the three available girls he would pick up-a redhead with huge knockers, a brunette with heavy lips that just cried out for a mouthful of dick and a bleached blonde who, although not as pretty as the other two, was well-known for her ability to milk a prick bone-dry in manifold ways.
Tony had shifted back and forth among the threesome, buying them drinks in turn and making suggestive comments. Each time he bought a drink for one of the girls, he had one himself, of course, to be sociable.
He had gotten very drunk.
At closing time, groggy and stumbling, he realized that all three females had left with other men.
He was too soused to really care very much, so he staggered home solo.
He fell asleep instantly, and his last waking thought was that it was just as well that he had not brought a woman to his bed; the gambit would have failed miserably for him as a lover and done untold damage to his reputation.
But when he awoke in the morning, hung over and sporting a gigantic hard-on, he regretted his mistake very much. When he had a hangover, he was always horny as hell. He was also able to perform for a long time before he shot his wad-perhaps because his pecker was numbed by alcohol-and could enjoy a lingering fuck that delighted him and usually drove his partner to a state of ecstasy and multiple orgasms.
Now, alone on the bed, he gazed ruefully down at his huge horn and wished that he had somewhere to stick it. It was really massive this morning, as big and hard and hot as he had ever known it, with his spunk stored up instead of having been emptied into some pussy the night before.
The head was glowing, incandescent with lust. It throbbed and pulsed like a lung inhaling desire, longing for a hot, wet pussy to clamp around its length.
The stalk was thick and seamed with a dark ventral vein running from his bloated testicles to the bi-valved knob and rushing with lust-excited blood.
His balls were like over-inflated balloons, hard as rocks and filled with gism.
"Damn," he muttered.
It was a terrible shame to waste such a magnificent boner, both for his own sake and for the sake of numerous women of dubious morality who would have jumped at a chance to fill their cunts with that meat pole.
Tony figured he had two options.
He could grit his teeth and bear the burden of his erection and go out looking for a girl.
Or he could jerk-off.
He considered the two possible courses of action, gazing at his cock as he did so, as if he might find the solution reflected in the gleaming purple knob like a witch doctor reading the runes in the entrails.
His prick throbbed, flashing like a heliograph, pulsing like the monolith in 2001-A Space Odyssey, but his mind couldn't manage to interpret the message-Does my cock want the instant relief of my hand, or is it telling me to bide my time until I can find a steaming pussy in which to sheath it?
There were problems inherent in either course of action, he knew. Since it was Sunday, the bars and lounges would not be open until noon and, therefore, his hunting grounds would be limited to the park and coffee shops. It always seemed harder to pick up a horny girl when he could not ply her with a few drinks first.
There was also the problem of his hard-on, a factor in itself, for he knew that it would stick out in bas relief in his pants, and, possibly, cause him some embarrassment if he took it out for a walk.
The problem with jacking-off was more direct-he didn't like to do that. It felt good when he came, but he always got bored during the pumping, especially when, with a hangover, it took him ages to get-off.
If he had a telephone he would have called some woman, but his phone was disconnected.
He had had a girl living with him up until a month before, a very sexy girl named Belinda, who had kept him quite satisfied. But along with her talents in bed, Belinda also had a talent for making long-distance phone calls. When Tony received a telephone bill for six-hundred dollars, he decided that he didn't really want a telephone cluttering up his tiny apartment anyhow. He had left the bill unpaid and Ma Bell had responded by leaving him phone-less.
Thinking about Belinda, he got even more horny, for she had really been a spectacular piece of ass.
He did not even resent what she had done to his communication system, because when she left, not having the money to pay the bill, she had given him her car, which he had sold for eight-hundred dollars, showing a profit. But by then the phone had been disconnected and he'd not gotten round to having it hooked up again.
This was the first time he regretted not having a telephone and, along with that, he regretted the fact that Belinda had left. They had parted as friends. Belinda was a dancer-not too good, but so sexy on stage that she had no trouble getting work-and had gone off to work in a nightclub in Boston. Not being a Red Sox fan, Tony would not go with her, even for the favors of Belinda's steaming snatch.
Now he thought about her and his prick thundered violently. With so much blood rushing into that big stalk, Tony began to get lightheaded.
He sighed sadly.
There was nothing for him to do but beat his meat, he decided, wasteful as that was.
He reached for his dick with a trembling hand.
And the doorbell rang....
"Who in hell is it?" he called out.
He didn't want to get up and go to the door. If the caller was a man, or his landlady, his hard-on would be an embarrassment, far too big to be secreted in his dressing gown. And if it was a girlfriend come to call, he figured that he might as well stay right where he was; that was where she was liable to want him to be and where they would wind up with very little delay, in any case. "Tony?"
It was a girl's voice, and it sounded familiar. But with the voice distorted through the door, he wasn't sure.
"Yeah!"
"It's Belinda," she called.
Tony's eyes lit up and his pecker thumped mightily with anticipation.
"The door's open!" he shouted, the excitement he was feeling evident in his voice.
Belinda opened the door and stepped in.
"I'm so glad you're still here," she said. "I tried to call you, but when I learned that the phone had been disconnected I thought maybe you'd moved...."
Tony was not moving at all-except for his prick, which was writhing and banging away like a jackhammer.
Belinda had turned to close the door.
Turning back, she started to say something further and then paused when she saw that Tony was on the bed, naked and erect.
"Oh! " she gasped.
Tony grinned.
"I was just thinking about you," he said. "You were obviously thinking about something...."
She smiled, standing just inside the door. Looking at her, Tony found himself lusting for the girl even more than he had when he remembered her. She was every bit as desirable as his memory had told him.
She was tall, her legs long, her body supple.
She wore a black leather skirt and a white blouse. The hem of the skirt left plenty of shapely thigh on display, and the blouse was unbuttoned at the neck so that her deep ivory cleavage could be viewed.
She had long blonde hair, streaked by the sun so that it flowed in hues of amber and gold as it cascaded to her shoulders. Her face was oval, with high cheekbones, her eyes green, her mouth sensual. That mouth was turned up in a smile at the moment, a smile that showed both interest and amusement. Those green eyes, glinting like moist emeralds, studied Tony's big, hard dick with open speculation.
She ran one hand up her flank in self-caress.
Her tongue slid across her lower lip.
Tony said, "I thought you were in Boston?"
He was not at all embarrassed to be found with a boner, for he was self-confident and proud of his prick and, anyhow, Belinda had seen it plenty of times in the past. "I came back," she said. "And a timely visit it was."
"So it would appear."
"Five minutes later and it would have been too late," he told her.
"Oh? Were you going out?"
"No, I was just about to jerk-off."
That idea fascinated the sexy girl.
"What a shame if you had," she lamented.
She moved closer to the bed.
"Shall I join you?" she asked.
Her fingers were toynig with the buttons of her blouse. She stood with legs parted.
"That's a good idea," retorted Tony.
Then, grinning wickedly, he added, "Forgive me for not standing up ... but I'm afraid that my cock is too heavy to lift, at the moment."
She laughed at that conceit-but her laughter was tinged with feelings other than amusement.
She said, "If it's too heavy to lift, maybe I should sit on it?"
Tony nodded; his dick throbbed.
Belinda began to unbutton her blouse.
As she removed her clothing, she spoke to him, knowing full well that words could be every bit as erotic as visions and physical contact.
"I came on the bus," she said. "I hoped you'd be home ... alone. I've been thinking about you all the way here, and my pussy got so hot and creamy that I couldn't stand it. I was squirming on the seat and my cunt was making moist, squishing noises ... I'm sure everyone on the bus knew that I was creaming my panties. I even started to pant."
She shrugged her blouse from her shoulders.
She wore no brassiere. Tony had never known her to wear a bra, and doubted that she even owned one. Nor did she need one. Her tits stood out, firm and round, needing no support. The globes rolled together to form a deep cleavage as they thrust out from her slender torso, and her nipples were so big and stiff that they looked like little rockets about to blast off from the areola launching pads.
"There was a young man sitting in the seat across the aisle from me," she was saying. "When he saw how I was squirming and panting, the front of his trousers rose up just like a tent around a pole. He must have had a cock almost as big as yours, Tony. Not quite, though. And that made me hornier than ever, knowing how hot and horny I was making him. Vanity, narcissism, whatever ... I always feel sexy when I know a man is lusting for me. If...." she paused, with a demure smile and a naughty gleam in her eyes " ... if there hadn't been lots of other people on the bus, I could have gone over and sat beside him," she said. Tony groaned.
"I would have put my hand on his cock," she said.
She was fingering the zipper at the side of her black leather skirt, pulling it down a few inches, then drawing it back up, taking her time and tantalizing Tony as she prolonged her disrobing.
"I might have given him a handjob right there on the bus," she said, her voice husky. "Or ... I might have gone down on him; I might have sucked his cum right on the Greyhound bus...."
Tony moaned, almost in a whimper.
He knew that she was saying those sexy things to excite and arouse him-but he also knew, knowing her, that such a thing was quite possible. Even when she'd lived with him and he had been giving her plenty of prick, she had still managed to cheat on him a few times that he knew about.
He also figured that maybe she had really done it. But he didn't give a damn what she had done on the bus, just so long as there was some loving left for him.
She said, "But I'm glad I didn't ... now that I've found you ... like this...."
She dropped her skirt.
She wore black bikini panties, very brief, so that a few wisps of golden pubic hair curled out from the crotchband ... and that crotchband was plastered to her crotch by cuntal juice, damp as a dishrag and glued to her quim by lust.
She hooked her fingers under the waistband. She snapped it, delaying again.
She said, "I had to take the bus, Tony. That old car I left with you...."
Tony was in no condition to discuss automobiles.
"Later, baby," he croaked.
"Umm," she said.
She pushed her panties down, her pneumatic rear end and supple hips squirming out of them. She stepped from the underwear and left it on the floor, like a black butterfly whose wings were too damp to fly.
Naked, she moved up to the bed.
She stared down at his towering prick.
"Oh, that looks so good," she sighed.
Her thighs were parted. Gazing up from the bed, Tony could see her gash. She pushed her pelvis slightly out, giving him a better view. Her cunt lips were unfurled like the petals of a fleshy, pink flower and the open slot was flooded with creamy sex juice. Her clitoris was erect and tingling, thrusting out from the thick sauce that filled her hole.
"I can't decide whether I want to sit on it or take it in my mouth," she whispered.
She fitted her movements to her words, pushing her hips out when she spoke of perching on it and sliding her pink tongue across her parted lips as she speculated about the sucking of that massive meat pole.
"We have all day ... don't we?"
A look of hesitation passed over her countenance for a brief, fleeting moment. Tony realized that there was something on her mind ... that she had not taken the bus all the way from Boston just to ball him. But he figured there would be time to find out what she was after later. At the moment, he could concentrate only on her lush bod.
"Yes...." she answered softly.
Standing beside the bed, her legs spread, she bent over from the waist as though she were going to touch her toes. Her head came down. Her golden hair brushed over his lean belly and the tresses swept across his swollen ballsac. Her face approached. Her tongue came out.
She licked the fiery head of his dong.
Leaning over farther, she took it into her mouth and sucked on the meaty slab, her cheeks hollowing in as they pulled at the tasty nugget. She sucked for a moment, then pulled away, her oral cavity making a slurping noise as it dragged off his cockhead.
"Ahhh ... do it...." he rasped.
"Later, honey," she whispered. "I want to ... it tastes so good ... I want to suck your delicious meat and swallow your thick hot spunk ... but first I want to fuck...."
Tony could not argue with that priority.
Belinda knelt beside him.
Her plump tits swayed; he could see a ribbon of cuntal juice trickling down the inside of her thigh.
She moved her leg across, straddling his thighs.
Her face had become a mask of pure lust now-eyes narrowed, lips parted, nimble tongue switching back and forth. Her tits heaved with her labored breathing.
She sat back on her heels, astride his thighs, so that his towering schlong rose up in front of her belly. She squirmed a bit closer. His bloated balls jammed against her mount of Venus so that it looked as if his probe was part of her body, as if she were androgynous, possessed of both a cock and cunt, balls and breasts together.
She began to move her hips from side to side, working her vulva against his penis and nuts. Taking his shaft in her hand, she pushed it against her smooth belly and writhed against it. His prick was so hot that it felt like a branding iron, searing her flesh, while her pussy steamed against his thighs, soaking them with the lava of lust.
Tony whimpered, almost in torment-enjoying this preliminary contact but eager to get on with it, to have his dick buried up inside her hot snatch.
Holding his erection against her belly, she thumbed the knob and rubbed the sensitized delta where the thick, veined stalk merged into the flaring head.
His cleft parted. A trickle of pre-seminal fluid oozed out and ran sluggishly down the knob and onto her taut stomach.
"Oooh...." she purred.
She licked her lips as she gazed down at that thick flow of savory jizz. Her mouth was watering for his whang and her taste buds were tingling for his sperm.
But her pussy was even more demanding.
Tony reached up and cupped her firm tits in his hands, kneading and massaging the globes and working his thumbs back and forth across the stiff tips.
He began to hump up from the mattress, ramming his spike up and down across her groin, bouncing her slender weight upward as he thrust.
Belinda moved higher up his prostrate body.
Her thighs tightened and she raised her crotch up, settling over his prick. She folded her fist around the root and began to stir his cockhead around in her open cunt, using it like a spoon to caress the bowl of her desire, a ladle to churn her sex juice to a heavy cream.
She cupped his balls in her other hand.
Tony stopped humping and held his body arched and rigid, his butt lifted from the bed, waiting for Belinda to initiate the act.
Her gash was flooding juice, and it ran down his stalk and onto his belly and testicles.
The head of his wand had started to smoke.
She braced herself as he whimpered wordlessly, urging her to descend onto his cock.
She was savoring the last moments before they coupled.
Then she began to fuck him....