Chapter 6
Nick Craven didn't return home until a couple of hours after the voluptuous green-eyed blonde had fallen into a hot, obscenely exciting dream. He strode toward the living room in his usual loud way, tracking mud over the tiled foyer before he thought to kick off his muddy boots.
Bridget looked up from her book with a welcoming smile. She'd been sitting in the overstuffed armchair with her hand in her panties playing with her hot juicy pussy while she read her favorite pornographic book, Jungle Lust. The fire crackled in the hearth and rain pattered on the roof. In between contemplating the taste of Jane's pussy squirming beneath the wild cunt-licking she was receiving from Tarzan while 'Boy' pumped his young cock excitedly, she was visualizing the handsome young man who had arrived on the ferry with lovely young Callie. Mon dieu, what a fine bulge he'd had in his pants, and the lewd glint in his expressive brown eyes had told her without the shadow of a doubt that he was ready and willing to fuck her pussy silly.
"Hi, lover," she said to her rain-bedraggled lover. "Let Bridget get you a nice warm cognac, okay?"
As she opened a new bottle of Courvoiser, the petite brunette felt her cunt quivering with anticipation and her sheer black panty cuntband become wet with desire. Somehow, the thought of letting another man fuck her ever-hungry cunt silly always increased her lust for her handsome artist-boyfriend; she liked nothing better than to lie naked beside him and tease him with her fantasies or true stories of illegal erotic escapades, and he got all excited when she did so.-likewise, she loved hearing his sexual fantasies and tonight she would doubtless listen to his pent-up lust for her brother's girlfriend innocently sleeping in the comfortable guest bedroom.
Then, balancing the two brandy glasses brimming with cognac on a tray, she wriggled her smoothly curved ass back into the living room and settled down close beside her handsome lover, who was kneeling beside the roaring fire.
"And how was your day, cheri!" she asked, not really curious. Still, she realized that he liked to talk about his work, so she listened with half an ear as he told of his newest, yet unfinished masterpiece. Finally, she remarked, "Well, Callie's arrived. She's sleeping in the guest bedroom."
As she'd expected, Nick's attention was caught by the mention of the sexy young blonde. Bridget grinned impishly up at him over the brim of her brandy glass, running her teasing pink tongue provocatively over her lush, bow-shaped lips.
"Gives you a ferocious hard-on to hear that cute little pussy's right under your very own roof, huh?" she smirked, indolently undoing the top button of her expensive white linen blouse as she spoke. "Makes you feel sexy, doesn't it, cheri?"
"You bet it does, you cock-teasing bitch," Nick growled hotly.
A heated flame of anticipation was fluttering in Bridget's churning cunt as she watched his face change from that of an attractive, respectable man to a mask of pure animal lust. This was the mood she loved to see him in most of all, when his sexual appetite was whetted to such an intense degree that he fucked into her greedy cunt with the fiery fury of a master using his helpless slave, subjugating her to his passion-crazed will with his beautiful big cock!-
Nick's thickly throbbing prick was fully erect now and pulsing in aching excitement against his jeans. Ever since Callie had called earlier that day, he hadn't been able to get rid of his lecherous thoughts concerning her. She was obviously very innocent; in the sketch she appeared no older than eighteen, and the embarrassed, evasive manner in which she'd described what had happened to Jacques--the letter they had received from him asking them to get in touch with Callie had been censored-had been downright laughable. And from the innocence in her voice, he was curious as to just how good a fuck she could throw. Well, he'd soon find out. If she had any sexual hang-ups, he'd take care of them. Nick got a special sexual satisfaction from initiating naive young girls into the realm of eroticism, ridding them forever of prudish morality and teaching them that over and above their silly pretensions of purity, they were just hot little cunts like all other chicks since time immemorial.
"She's cute, huh?" he asked, idly rubbing his painfully swollen prick with one large hand. "Will I like her?"
"She's sweet-real pretty. Tits are as big as mine," Bridget smiled her sloe-eyed, sultry come-on look. "But don't you go bugging her tonight, Nick," she added playfully, yet meaning it. "The poor gal's tired and she needs her rest."
Nick glowered, for he very much disliked being told what he ought or ought not to do. Hell, what sort of brute did Bridget think he was, anyway? Granted, part of him would have loved to break into the guest bedroom where the sexy little blonde lay sleeping and fuck her, but he certainly wasn't about to do so. After all, the build-up, the slow wearing down of her moral fiber, that was half the fun!
"Don't you go telling me what to do, woman!" he growled.
Tiny ripples of white-hot desire danced through the petite brunette's juicy pussy as she heard Nick's brutal tone. Fucking was going to be extra exciting tonight, she felt sure. His cock would be big and hard as he fucked into her already desire-dampened cunt.
"And guess what?" she teased. "She met this real cute guy at the ferry terminal-just the type I dig. So I asked him out for the weekend." Although she knew Nick wasn't really the jealous type, she also realized that in his present mood of pent-up lust, her comment would egg him on.
As Bridget had suspected, Nick's rugged features darkened and his hand rubbed more urgently than ever on his obscenely swollen cock, which tented out his levis. He stood up slowly, menacingly, and a shiver of delicious excitement quivered in her pussy.
"You fucking bitch!" he growled. "Playing around with some damn kid while I've got the hots for your brother's cute little girlfriend so bad I can't stand it. Well, now it's my turn to have some fun. Get upstairs! Go on!"
It was apparent to Bridget that Nick was really furious, far more so than normally. His face was contorted with lascivious fury, and his large hands were clenched in fists at his side as he advanced a few threatening steps toward her.
Maybe I've teased too much, she thought, a tremor of dread gliding through her veins as she recalled the time when the man had been in such a vicious temper that he'd whipped her nakedly trembling ass-cheeks with his leather belt. She literally hadn't been able to sit down for nearly a week, and the ugly red welts on her tender ass-cheeks had taken forever to fade.
"Go on, bitch. Upstairs," Nick commanded, massaging his massively swollen cock through his pants. "I'll show you how you'd better treat me after this, you cunt! Go on, get going!"
Despite her growing fear, Bridget hesitated. The master bedroom was right next to the guestroom, and with Nick in such a lustful rage, she was sure they would waken the innocent girl. Probably she'd become so frightened that it would spoil all her plans for an erotic weekend of group sex.
"N-no, Nick love," she stammered. "Let's do it down here, d'accord? I ... I don't want Callie to hear you fuck me! I'll scream, you know I will, I always do when you ...",
"Do like I told you, bitch! Fuck, I don't give a shit who hears you. Maybe it'll turn her pussy on, and get it all juicy and hot for the day when I shove my friendly dick up her cunt. Now, you little tramp, before I beat the shit out of your prick-teasing little French ass!"
Not daring to disobey, Bridget edged toward the stairs with Nick close behind her. He gave her a rough slap on her sensuously swaying ass-cheeks to speed her up, and a masochistic thrill of anticipation shot through the voluptuous brunette's cunt as she thought of herself as a slave being driven on by a cruel lusting lord.
"Get naked, bitch!" he bellowed as he pushed the trembling French girl through the bedroom door with another stinging slap on her smoothly curved ass-cheeks. Even through her jeans and flimsy red lace panties, the blow was painful. "Lie down on the bed, tits down. I'm gonna fuck your cunt dog-style, just like you deserve!"
As quickly as she possibly could, the nervously quivering young brunette slipped out of her pants, orange cashmere sweater, red lace panties, and matching bra. Oh God, what is Nick going to do to me?
"Can't ... can't we close the door at least, Nick?" Bridget ventured timidly, humbly.
"Shut up!" he shouted, and then he stalked toward the bed with his hugely pulsing cock pointing straight out from his muscular groin.
The second his huge, lustfully hardened prick fucked up into her quivering, desire-drenched cunthole so brutally that Nick's sensuously dangling balls slammed up against her nakedly upraised ass-cheeks, the cock-impaled young brunette forgot all about the innocent blonde sleeping in the next room.
"Aaaaaaggghhhhh!" she shrieked in a daze of pleasure-pain. "You're hurting me! Ooooohhhhh! Harder, darling ... yes ... like that. Fuck my pussy harder with your big beautiful cock. Ooooohh. Ooooooohhhhh!"
Callie O'Hara was jolted suddenly out of her wild, pussy-exciting dream, just as the voluptuous French girl had feared, as she and Nick clattered noisily up the stairs and burst into the adjoining bedroom. Callie heard the smacking sound of Nick's flat palm striking Bridget's buttocks, but did not realize what it was in her naivete. Jacques, her one and only boyfriend, hadn't a violent bone in his body.
When she heard a man's harsh cry of "Now get naked," however, she jolted awake and cringed down under her warm, down-filled quilt, shivering with fright. Pulling the blanket tightly over her sleep-tousled golden curls, she strove valiantly to block out the obscene noises filtering in from next door, but it was no use. Even with her ears buried beneath the thick coverlet, young Callie could hear every vulgarity, every obscene sound of flesh slapping against naked flesh, every lewd moan ... and somehow, as she listened to the lewdly exciting sounds, she felt her own pussy quivering with an unwanted desire beneath her modest white flannel nightie.
I'm wicked, unforgivably wicked, she agonized, pressing her svelte, girlishly rounded thighs together in a desperate attempt to stop the unwanted tingling sensation of desire growing hotter and hotter in her naked cunt. Only sick perverts would listen to other people fucking and get so excited. What's the matter with me? I must go back to sleep. I must!
Despite her good intentions, however, Callie's feelings of lewd arousal only increased. Oh God, my pussy is so hot and wet, how can I wait three long years before I feel Jacques's hugely throbbing cock fucking deep up inside my cunt? she wondered sadly as she listened to the loud chorus of groans and creaking bedsprings. How am I ever going to stand it?
Then, as she realized that Jacques's beautiful young sister was crying out in anguished pain, Callie forgot about her own sad situation. My goodness, what could Nick be doing to her? Or, maybe it wasn't even Nick: perhaps some sex-crazed rapist, someone like
Barth Owens or Tommy Eamon, had sneaked into the house and was brutally ravishing poor Bridget's pussy!
Callie sat up in her bed, her heart thudding against her full chest as she wondered what she ought to do. Surely it was her duty as a human being to do something to help poor Bridget who'd been so kind to her, but what? If the man whom she could hear grunting and spitting out vulgar obscenities was really an intruding maniac, she certainly didn't want him to discover her so he could do all sorts of disgusting things to her titties and cunt!
But, finally, shaking with fear and another odd sensation, which she didn't let herself identify, the trembling young blonde, completely naked beneath the white flannel nightie, climbed from her warm bed and tiptoed across her carpeted floor toward the door. It was open just a crack, for she never liked to feel completely closed in at night, and she eased through the doorway without a sound.
Callie's original plan had been to peek into the other bedroom as silently as possible, ascertain just what was going on, and then creep down the stairs to phone the police. When she actually found herself staring through the wide-open door of the master bedroom, however, she could only stand in paralyzed shock, gaping at the obscene spectacle taking place before her eyes. In her bewildered condition of semi-shock, not even the horrible consequences of being caught by Jacques's sister peering in on her occurred to her.
For the man hunched over Bridget was Nick, not some lust-crazed rapist. Not only did she recognize his thick brown hair from the snapshot she'd seen, but the nakedly writhing woman beneath him was gasping out his name.
"No, Nick, nooooo!" she wheezed, obviously finding it hard to speak as her lover's muscular bulk flattened her against the mattress and his huge pole of male flesh buffeted her naked body back and forth. "Aaaaiiiii! You're-oohh ... ooooohhh ... ooowwwwwhhh! You're hurting my little pussy. Ooowwwwwhhh!"
Nick loomed over the petite brunette, his thick muscles gleaming with sweat as he rose and fell over her like some savage beast. They weren't even doing it in the normal position, the watching blonde noticed dazedly. Instead, the poor girl was flat on her stomach while her brutal boyfriend fucked into her like a dog fucking a bitch. It was utterly disgusting ... and sinfully exciting! A low gasp escaped from Callie's mouth at the wicked thrill of watching the naked couple entangled in the lewdest sexual embrace she'd ever dreamed of, but her uncontrollable outcry went unheard as the background sounds of protesting bedsprings, flesh slapping naked flesh, and soulful moans accelerated in volume with each passing second.
Thoroughly ashamed of her own lewdly aroused pussy, the spying young blonde sternly commanded herself to return to her own bed at once, but her feet refused to obey her brain, and she remained rooted to the spot staring in open-mouthed wonderment at the salacious spectacle in front of her. Oh God, what an enormous cock Nick has! she marveled, a shiver of fear mingled with excitement burning in her cunt. It's much bigger than Jacques's. How can poor Bridget's pussy take it all in? She's so small-it must be killing her. Ripping her cunt apart.
Then, before she realized what she was doing, Callie O'Hara's slim white hand had slipped down to her flannel nightgown-protected pussy. The cloth was slightly moist from her unwanted cunt juices, and as she gently stroked the moistly pulsating pussy flesh between her weakly trembling legs, a dark, wet patch appeared on the white nightie. Suddenly, noticing what her sinful hand was doing, Callie snatched it away and squeezed her thighs tightly together to drown out the wild tingling feeling in her dampened pussy. This well-meaning gesture only increased her feverish desire, sending shivers of ecstatic yearning throbbing from the top of her golden head to the strands of her softly curling, pussy juice-drenched cunt hairs.
Oh God, no! she exclaimed in silent desperation. What's the matter with me? How can my pussy be getting so excited from watching something so depraved. I won't touch my pussy. I won't finger-fuck my pussy.
But, as Bridget's protests changed to a low hum of blissful passion and the huge, wetly glistening cock fucked in and out of her tightly gripping pink cunt harder than ever, Callie's high-minded resolutions faded away. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, she could see every detail of the lurid fucking, even the thickly pulsing veins on Nick's enormous cunt-splitting prick and the sparse hairs on his sensuously jerking, cum-filled balls. It was too much for the innocent, sexually frustrated young blonde artist. Her hand once again stole down over the curvaceous line of her torso to cup the involuntarily pulsating, cock-starved cunt.
I'm sick and evil, her tortured mind moaned, but my fingers feel so good touching my pussy!
Although Callie realized intellectually that the hysterical threats of eternal hellfire which her furious aunt had dumped upon her head the time she'd caught her eleven-year-old niece fondling her hairless young cunt in the bathtub were groundless, Callie was still decidedly uneasy about touching her pussy. Sometimes, awakening from a dream and still half-conscious, she'd press her thighs together so tightly that her naked cunt reached a climax, but she was highly ashamed afterward and had never admitted her sinful self-indulgence to anyone, not even Jacques. Until a few days ago, she'd never gone so far as to actually touch her blondely furred cunt with her fingers, and she could scarcely believe that she had actually done such a wantonly nasty thing.
I'm fingering my cunt right out here in the hallway where Bridget and Nick could look up any second and see me staring in like a filthy-minded little girl! Callie's brain reeled. Oh, dear God. What's the matter with me? I really must be a whore-and I haven't even the excuse now of having had too much to drink!
But the stimulation afforded by the lurid tableau of writhing, nakedly thrashing flesh was strong enough to make the innocent girl forget her guilty misgivings, and, sighing in helpless defeat, she threw her moral scruples to the winds and lifted her nightie up to reveal the golden tan of her sensuously curved naked thighs and, above them, the contrasting strip of smooth ivory flesh where her bikini had kept away the Grecian sunshine. Then, slowly, quivering at her own wickedness, her hand slid toward the blondely curling pussy hairs.
Callie was completely absorbed in the sight of Nick Craven's huge, pussy-splitting cock fucking wildly into Bridget's black, curl-rimmed cunthole. Oh God, oh God, her mind screamed. This is the most pussy-exciting exhibition I've ever seen! Enormous tidal waves of wanton pleasure coursed through her ecstatically pulsing cunt as she peered through the open doorway, and she allowed her finger to touch the forbidden button of her tiny pulsing clitoris. And suddenly, just as Bridget was arching up her nakedly wriggling ass-cheeks and begging her boyfriend "Mon Dieu! Fuck me harder, fuck my cunt harder!" an unexpected cold, wet object rubbed up against the spying young artist's bare ass-cheeks! Callie jerked forward, lurching against the other side of the hall with a loud crash that would surely have given her away had not Nick chosen that exact moment to let out a conquering he-man cry of sheer animal passion.
"Aaaaaaiiiii! C'mon bitch ... that's it! Fuck back!" he bellowed. "Move that ass. Oh Jeez, move that French ass. Aaaaarrrggh. Aaaaaaaxxxxxxx
But the terrified young blonde scarcely heard the wildly fucking man's outcry. She was staring in horrified disbelief at a large, obscenely carved wooden sculpture of a man holding his huge erect prick. The wooden cock was standing straight out.
Oh God. No. It's filthy, her mind wailed in disgusted disbelief. She had never ever seen a piece of art work like it in her entire life. Had
Nick sculpted it? It ... it looked so real, so ... so life-like sitting on the hall table in the dim light. The statue itself was only about eighteen inches tall, but the huge prick it was holding was at least seven inches long.
Fresh tingles of excitement raced through her hungry pussy again and again and her blood turned to fire in her veins as she imagined how wonderful the huge wooden prick would feel fucking into her wetly hungering cunthole.
As tears of shame brimmed up in her sultry, passion-glazed green eyes, Callie attempted to back silently down the hall, back to the guestroom. But the hugely erect cock seemed to glisten lewdly in the moonlight ... as if it were beckoning her cock-hungry pussy closer and closer. Oh, God, what can I do? What? What? Callie agonized.
Yet she knew that she had no choice but to move closer to the pornographic object d'art.
Picking it up with trembling hands, she rubbed it up and down her cunt-slit just as if she were the most wanton whore in the slums of Athens! It was all she could do to stop herself from fucking the whole seven inches of the sculpture's erect cock up her cunt ... but it might alert Nick and Bridget to the inadmissible fact that she'd been peeping in through the doorway while they were fucking wildly in their bedroom. Oh ... that would be horrible. They might even run out and catch her with her nightie pulled up and her rubbing the wooden prick all around her cunt! But she couldn't help it, it felt so good.
"Uummmmmm ... ohhh ... mmmmmmm," she moaned in appreciation as she hotly rubbed the statue's cock over and over, the slippery wet pussy juices flowing onto her cunt hairs. The innocent young blonde shivered so that her teeth actually chattered. This was simply too vile to be real. But it was real! Furthermore, the strange primitive sensations emanating from deep within her already titillated cunt were far too vivid to be denied.
What's happening to me? Callie's tortured mind moaned in abject misery. First, I got turned on by sucking that awful Barth Owens's cock; then I fing erfucked my pussy in front of Sheila's little brother and let him fuck my ass; then, I was crazy enough to stand here in the hall and watch, and put my finger up under my nightie like a sex-mad slut; and now ... now Fm rubbing my pussy with a statue, and God help me, it feels good. It feels so good. Jacques would never love me if he knew what a slut I am.
Callie's hands were rubbing the wooden cock faster and faster over her throbbing cunt, the tip brushing again and again over the ultra-sensitive bud of her nerve-filled clitoris, each time causing her to shiver convulsively.
Inside the dimly lighted bedroom, Nick and Bridget were still bucking savagely against each other, driving themselves on toward a powerful cum. Callie stared at them with glazed eyes, trying to deny the tremors of oncoming orgasm which the statue's wooden prick was arousing in her own ecstatically throbbing cunt.
And to think I thought they were wanton! she thought dizzily, leaning against the wall to keep from collapsing as her knees turned to water. Look at me! Oh God, anything two people might do-anything at all-is more normal than what I'm doing!
"Aaaaahhhhh!" Bridget wailed, twisting beneath Nick's ruthless, pussy-splitting cock like a woman possessed by demons. "I'm cuuuuuuummmmmmmmmiiinnnnggggg! Ooooohhhhh, yyeeaahhh!"
At the sound of the other girl's soul-shattering shriek, Callie was horrified to feel her own body hurtling toward an out-of-control climactic explosion. No! she prayed. I can't make myself cum like this!
Then, as the implacable seismic waves of her wild cum jolted through her tortured cunt, all thoughts of her faraway young lover were drowned in the sea of pure physical bliss that washed over her. Even the wantonly thrashing lovers in the next room vanished from her mind as blackness studded with scarlet and gold stars blinded her, and she clawed at the wallpaper in the convulsive throes of one of the most satisfying cums she'd ever enjoyed in all her twenty years.
At last, after a seeming eternity of lewd bliss, which was heightened by her intense feelings of guilt, she straightened her wobbly knees and, wiping her pussy juices off the wooden prick, placed the statue back on the hall table.
No ... no ... it can't really have happened! Callie's tortured mind wailed.
Then, suddenly remembering Nick and Bridget, she jerked her tousled blonde head toward the wide-open bedroom door. Oh God, what if they heard me ... saw me ... she shivered fearfully. I could never face them again. I'd have to leave tomorrow ... and where in the world would I go?
To the guilt-stricken blonde's relief, the couple was still writhing around in the king-sized double bed, groaning out loud in orgasmic ecstasy. It was impossible that they could have noticed her outside the door fucking her pussy with the wooden carving. Still gripped in the hypnotic fascination of unbridled sensuality, the shame-faced young blonde artist watched as Nick's powerful ass-cheeks contracted and his entire body jerked spasmodically above Bridget's nakedly writhing body. Seconds later, as the skewered French girl shrieked in an unholy delirium of bliss, thick streams of sticky white cum began trickling out of her cock-stuffed cunt to dribble over her luxuriant black pussy hairs and onto her violently quivering thighs.
Callie backed off in the direction of the guest bedroom. She'd seen enough and, in any case, didn't dare risk being discovered peering in through the door. Flopping down on her rumpled bed, she sobbed herself to sleep.
But the sun rose as usual the next morning, following nature's unswayable plan, as it had from time immemorial, in utter disregard of the miseries of insignificant humans. In fact, it was a rather spectacular morning, particularly for the time of year. Both Bridget and Nick rose as soon as the sunrise tinted the sky outside their wide windows a vibrant shade of rose and found themselves in excellent spirits after their sexual excesses of the night before.
Callie, on the other hand, didn't leave her bed at all. Feeling incapable of facing Nick after watching him attack Jacques's sister like a brutal rapist, she claimed that her headache was worse and hid her head under the blankets when Nick peered into her room.
All day long, blinking back tears of guilt and despair, she stared bleakly through her window at the sun glinting on the tall green trees and wished with all her heart that she could erase the lurid events of the previous night from her tortured memory.
There was silence in the large elegant beach house almost all day long. Nick, as Callie had overheard him explaining to Bridget in the hallway outside her room, had decided to take his sketch pad over to Lake Tashmoo for the day.
An hour or so later, Bridget came in bearing a sumptuous breakfast tray laden with hot buttered toast, fragrant coffee, and a speckled brown boiled egg in a pretty blue and white china eggcup. Although Callie felt rather hungry at the sight of the appetizing breakfast, she shook her head weakly at Bridget.
How can she look so fresh and pretty, after the things she went through last night? the innocent blonde wondered, staring incredulously at Jacques's sister's attractive form-fitting French jeans and nearly see-through, flower-print shirt. Her makeup was impeccably applied, her raven hair was tied back at the nape of her neck with a jaunty red velvet ribbon. Suddenly Callie felt drab and inadequate, incapable of coping with life's complexities, and dropped back down against her pillows.
Bridget clucked sympathetically, returned with a pot of tea, and apologetically explained that she, too, had to leave. There wasn't a thing to eat in the house, and unless they were to subsist on instant mashed potatoes, spinach, and salt, she'd have to do some shopping.
Besides, she thought to herself as she solicitously fluffed up the pillows on the bed, I'm just dying to see that cute Byron Kealing guy.
"Now you just get a good rest, cherie," she said as she tripped energetically out the door with her wicker shopping basket. "By this evening, I want you to be feeling real good, 'cause Nick is dying to meet you, and I'm gonna make us a real super dinner."
"Okay, Bridget," Callie said. "I'll be just fine, don't you worry about me."
As the front door slammed and Bridget's footsteps clicked over the flagstone walk, the miserably guilty young artist allowed her pent-up tears to stream down over her burning cheeks. But what was the use of crying? That certainly wouldn't solve anything! Callie dabbed at her eyes with a corner of the sheet. Oddly enough, though she'd told herself she Wanted nothing more than to be left alone, the total silence of the large house was eerie and very depressing. I ought to get up and take a walk or something, she thought, or maybe borrow some of Nick's paper and charcoal and do some sketching.
But Callie O'Hara spent the rest of the day staring blankly out the window ...