Chapter 5
Carmela marveled at the way the coast line swung in toward them, a stretch of beach running along beside the superhighway, the waves washing whitecapped in on the sand, and then swinging away again, disappearing in the distance-rolling hills of sparse green and citrus groves and plots of cultured land swelling between the road and the ocean. Yet, with ail the cars on the route, the roadside stops, the planted lands and occasional towns, the United States seemed so ... isolated. No peons walked the roads, she hadn't seen a burro since leaving the border, and the towns-the towns were lovely, so clean and sanitary-looking, so tidy it looked as if nobody really lived in them at all.
Rico had returned at the last minute and insisted on going along, and Carmela decided she might as well take along Juana. That had slowed things up, waiting for visas, taking the car through customs. She was glad Rico had come. There might be more problems.
After almost a week of trying, she'd finally reached the man who had advertised finding the pony. From his description it had been Querido all right. Damn those thieves who had claimed him! The man had finally thought of a way to trace them. They'd given" him a check, and he'd deposited it in his bank. After another wasted two days Carmela had the name and address of the party that wrote the check-a Sherman Oaks address, a suburb of Los Angeles.
Carmela had no title to the pony, no papers. Nothing but the newspaper clippings about her kidnapping and rape, and about the pony's escape-illegal immigration of livestock-over the border. But the pony was hers. She'd find the bastards. She'd have Querido again, if she had to chase after him from there to hell. And she'd bring him back.
"Wheew!" Kitty whistled, down on her knees ogling the pony's erect prick and winking to the side at her appreciative audience. Tom held out a jar of cold cream and Kitty scooped out a handful, smearing it in gobs in her palms and then transferring the mess to the huge penis. Mavis-tall and sensuously willowy, with large lush lips and wildly raging hair suggestive of a lion's mane-held onto the leather harness straps as the pony's mouth gorged on her upturned nipples. At the touch of the soothing hands on his prick, smearing in the cold cream, the pony's nostrils quivered and snorted-he was happily confused. Women-his nostrils were full of her scent, his mouth full of her soft salty flesh, and yet the sensations at his sex tool!
It was a bright moonlit night, clear and star-filled. The lights from the den spilling out on the patio and the pool lights under water, casting eerily moving opposing shadows. It was cool out, a warm mist rising from the heated waters in the pool, but nobody had gone back inside, though all were naked-except for Tom and his cowboy hat. Several of the six couples present shivered, others rubbed their gooseflesh back into their skin, but few took their eyes off the activity around the pony.
It was a strange weekend. Bob and Mavis had special guests-Tom and Krista had been invited many times before, but this was the first time they'd accepted. Usually they kept their swinging within the bounds of their own place, a ranch in Nevada. Krista had an equine obsession; from the way Tom was hung that was probably why she married him. With her money she could have had anybody she wanted.
Krista lay on the chaise with Matt, both of them grinning at Kitty's antics with the pony. Matt's arm curled around Krista's neck, his body feeling her warmth, his hand cupping one of her mammoth breasts, extraordinarily mammoth considering her height. She was barely five feet, sporting a 38D-20-33 figure. His other hand toyed in the wet folds of her pussy, lazily, teasing. Absentmindedly she fondled his half-hard penis.
Kitty reached for another gob of cream. Tom tilted the cowboy hat back on his head. "You know, with all that grease, even if you do get on that thing, you're jis going to whoosh right back off again."
Bob came out of the den with another tray of drinks. Seeing Mavis stroking her tit into the pony's mouth he stopped short. "Are you at it again, hon?" He held out the tray to a well-developed redhead with freckles covering her body like measles. His words were addressed to Matt. "Goddamn it, ever since you and Kitty brought that damned animal over for us to keep for you, my wife has had her boobs in its mouth. Wonder the thing ever gets a chance to eat."
Mavis's voice was husky. "It eats," she said, leering significantly, "better than a lot of husbands I know!"
Bob picked up Krista's empty glass and set a full one down in its place. "I used to think my wife wasn't fit for man nor beast. If the pony likes her I'll have to think some more about it."
"Okay!" Kitty squealed happily. "Where's my carnal cart?" She motioned for Tom to get the serving cart, on which she'd placed several pillows. She climbed up on it and lay back, edging the two rounded cheeks of her ass until they protruded just enough, her legs dangling in space. Her head had just the support of a pillow extending over the other end of the cart. "Ready-somebody wheel me to it!"
Tom moved the serving cart, joking about the tasty dish being served, but as it reached the pony it was obvious it was not going under it with Kitty on top. "Goddamn it, pony, will you suck in your gut?" she shrieked, ignoring the laughter of the others, trying to wedge her body under the pony's.
Grinning, Bob yelled to wait a minute. He took a low platform from under a large flower box. Laying it at the front hooves, he had Mavis lead the pony up on it.
Again Tom wheeled Kitty under the pony, one of her legs going under first, and this time she made it, sucking in her own belly, a tight squeeze. Her tits rested against the pony's rib cage, her belly against his. The prick, sticking out, glistening luminously with cold cream, pointed straight into her ass. "Get me on it, somebody," Kitty mumbled, her hands between her thighs trying to grab it, unable to reach the additional needed inch.
"Well help!" Lila, pulling Tony up with her-reluctantly, obviously, Tony had rather help himself to Lila-arose from the beach towel, red spots on the low cheeks of her trim buttocks from the way she'd been sitting. She wrapped herself around one of Kitty's legs, Tony the other, from the other flank of the pony, and they pulled. Tom, down on his knees reaching under, held the greasy prick in line with Kitty's cunt.
"Oh, I got it!" Kitty yelled, "It's there!
Pull!"
Tony and Lila heaved on her legs, wrapping their arms around pneumatic thighs and straining their backs into it-laughing so hard they seemed to have no strength at all.
Grotesque, ludicrous, pathetic the scene, laughter erupted embarrassedly from every throat except Kitty's-to her it wasn't funny. From her mouth came a shrill squeak of frustration as she hunched and wriggled her body, trying to get her cunt onto the giant prick.
Tom moved around front, down reaching between the pony's forelegs, pushing against the frame of the cart. It slid forward without Kitty for an instant, then Kitty grasped the cart frame. "Yes, yes, that's it-push!" Tom dug in and heaved.
A shrieking scream of pain cut through the laughter, ending in a gurgle in Kitty's throat. The onlookers quieted, laughs cut off somber. The prick had penetrated almost to its full length into Kitty's cunt. A bulging band of cold cream had been scraped down the shaft to form a ring at the point where the thing disappeared into the hairy hole. Kitty's legs began to convulse, her hips began to writhe. She couldn't do it by herself. "Help meee!" she wailed.
"Get her off it!" somebody yelled; somebody else, "Help her, pull her out for God's sake!"
"No!" Kitty shrilled. "Don't you dare!" She groaned again, licking her lips, taking a deep breath. "Help me fuck it, you bastards!" Her hips squirmed, trying to move on the prick, but with nothing to give her leverage it was futile. Her arms went around the pony's girth but she couldn't hold onto it-nothing to grip.
Slowly Tom pulled back the cart; Kitty grabbed hold of it again, her body coming back a little as she thrust her legs against Lila and Tony. Inches, then Tom pushed the other way, hard, driving her on the prick again. "Ohh, do it, do it!" Kitty's high-pitched baby-doll voice sang out. Tom pulled her out a little then thrust her on the gigantic prick again, stroking it deep inside her cunt, ramming her on it. And again. And again, setting up a slow powerful rhythm, Lila and Tony, pulling, pushing against her thighs, neither of them laughing now,, both their faces intense, watching Kitty's face as she took the prick. Tony's penis began to rise.
Among the other spectators, eyes grew glassy, breasts heaved harder, nipples got hard and soft pricks began to stiffen and grow. Through it all Mavis shifted the pony's mouth, first from one smoothly conical tit to the other and back again, the pert uptilted nipples coming out of its mouth wet and shining in the light. Now, aware of Kitty's emotions, her own coursed harder, faster through her veins. Her one hand squeezing a tit into the pony's mouth the other dropped to the next of hair between her thighs, her finger digging deep in her pussy, coming out wet, lubing her clitoris and then stroking it, jacking it. She looked around at the others-pricks and cunts and tits and hands and mouths getting involved with each other, the heat of Kitty's sensations contagious, spreading to everybody present. Faster her fucking finger moved, faster, her knees bending, her eyes closing, her head dropping back, her other hand digging harder into the soft fleshy tit.
"Matt?" Krista's voice was low, a supernatural quality, an akinship to the surroundings, pouring out with the syllables.
Matt's mouth dropped to hers, their lips opening to suck each other in, their tongues storming each other, his arms around her neck, the hand squeezing her fat, fucking, mountainous tit, squeezing harder. His other arm listed her legs, drawing them up; his leg nearest her shifted in under her ass; he let one of her legs down and, holding the other, stuck his other leg between hers. She guided his prick into the wet hole, a cunthole hot and wet and alive, sucking him inside, like a mouth sucking. Her breath shuddered between her teeth with the feel of him.
Still holding her leg nearest him high, across his forearm, his hand roamed around his prick to her asshole, teasing along the seam and back up to her clitoris. His prick began to glide smoothly, in and out of her hot pussy goodness. Sideways to her on her back, his left hand still reached around her neck caressing her tit, his other hand squeezing, fingering, manipulating her clitoris, setting up a slow increasing rhythm. His mouth moved to the nipple of the breast nearest him, taking it inside sucking it as her hand reached up to feed it to him, his lips opening wider, taking more and more of the soft firm sweetness of her flesh inside as her fingers ballooned it into his mouth. Her tongue dropped to his ear, nibbling on the lobe, her breath hot and lusty, her tongue dipping inside, her lungs heaving as he sucked her tits, matching the strokes of his prick in her cunt-of her ass humping it, grinding back at him with everything he punched into her.
Kitty's increasingly high-pitched ohs and ahs and oohs now merged into a shrilly piercing long-rending siren, a steampipe rupturing, a brushfire burning, a boat whistle screaming.
Her round baby-doll face contorted in horrendous tortuous wrinkles of painful ecstasy, turning redder than a candy heart.
Other sounds joined hers. Bob had dropped on the blanket between freckled Connie's legs, his prick in his hand, moving in between her spreading lifting thighs to plug her gaping cunthole with it, her moans and groans of pleasure mounting with each rise and fall of his ass, weighting his joint on its drive inside her.
On the other chaise, Phyllis had her legs hanging off as George, kneeling on a rolled-up towel, had his face buried nose deep in her wet big-lipped pussy, while Ed stood beside the chair, holding her head as her mouth rode on and off his dick, slurping and smacking and moaning, Ed's moans in harmony with hers.
Krista's lusty voice erupted an urgent grunting moan in Matt's ear, her body stiffening, straining, the muscles in her cunt walls tightening and squeezing, her ass higher and faster in a sudden last burst of speed, hearing her voice cracking at the peak of her ecstasy, the last obstacles in the way of it gushing out of her pores, feeling his own orgasm blasting its way out of his nuts, triggered from his brain straight into the head of his dick in her cunt with the rhythm of a sewing machine, and then back to his brain again to explode out of his ears, his mouth, and out of the end of his dick into that lovely plastic beautiful vaginus hole of Krista's just as her cunt exploded in its own ecstatic rapture. Following the pressure of her hand, his mouth moved off the luscious mound of breast it had been sucking to the sweet taste of her mouth in a long, satiated, lethargic kiss.
Tony and Lila were still heaving on rosy-red rounded rubber thighs. Tom, getting comfortable, sat cross-legged just ahead of the pony's forelegs to work the cart, Kitty going for her fourth screeching orgasm when it hit her. She'd been given no warning.
The monstrous prick jammed skin tight in her stretched-wide pussy shot off, the pressure building in her, the force of it driving into her with the strength of a runaway fire hose, spurting, shooting, expanding her cunt until the pressure blew into and through her cervix into her womb and out her cunt around the prick, spraying, spewing-her shrill scream, whining, crying, shrieking, blasted eardrums, her head shaking side to side hysterically, the features of her face pinched together in an ugly wrinkled mask of sensation. Legs kicking, body twisting, writhing, arms flailing, trying to get off it now, Kitty went crazy with the pain of it.
With Tom yanking at the cart, pulling it aside, the long prick finally snaked out, still spurting, leaving the woman, wailing and crying and sobbing with dementia so marked it seemed as if she'd never descend into sanity again. Free of the pony, she sank to the ground, off the cart, pulling pillows with her, sitting spread-eagled on the cement, her thighs and belly covered with the thick syrupy paste of semen oozing out of her ravaged pussy, too immersed in her trauma to do anything but cry.
Matt, joking to Krista that duty called, patted his wife on the shoulder, holding her. Tom knelt beside her, pushing his hat forward to shadow his eyes, his long dangling prick almost touching the ground. "Woman," he said, "you better stick to men."
Phyllis moaned as George's mouth, sucking her off, brought her to a climax, and she twitched, her knees wagging, trying to bang them together with George's head still between her thighs-her noises choked by Ed's dick in her mouth as he too began to come.
After grinning at each other above Kitty's hysterics, Lila and Tony moved into each other, their pelvises clanging together, and dropped to the blanket beside Bob and Connie. Lila's hand groped for Tony's stiff prick, sliding it in her cunt, his ass straining up for it as it pitched inside her, his chest mashing her breasts into bulging swells to the side between their ribs.
Krista sat high in the chaise, smiling as Matt tried to calm his wife. Her eyes moved to the pony, to the huge round cylinder that dangled from his belly, dripping its whitish juices.
"Well?" Tom sat down on the chaise beside her. "What do you think?"
Krista turned her smile to him. "See what you can get it for. We'll have Bob load him and ship him. We'll fly on north in the morning, get in a little bird hunting. By the time we get home he'll be there waiting."
Tom nodded, his eyes under the hat looking at the animal appraisingly. He started to rise.
"Tom?" Krista stirred on the chaise, her eyes moving to the abnormally large dick hung on her husband.
He looked down at her inquisitively.
Her legs spread just an inch, a barely perceptible movement but blatantly suggestive. "Mount me, Tom. I need," her eyes dropped closed sensually, her voice dropping to a whisper, "a real fucking cock inside me."
Tom's eyes glinted. His joint immediately began to get hard, rising like the branch of a tree toward the sky. Grinning, he took off his hat and sailed it aside. He dropped down between her opening thighs with the strong primitive drive of a stallion mounting a rutted mare.
The buzz droned on in the receiver at her ear. Slowly, Carmela lowered the phone to its cradle. She felt like smashing it to bits. Those bastards. Those dirty fucking bastards. If she ever got her hands on them "Still no answer?" Ramirez flipped the channel selector of the television set, and settled back on one of the double beds.
Carmela shook her head. Another night in this stinking motel. She reached for the zipper at the neck of the red knit blouse she wore, but then Juana was there, doing it for her, pulling the fabric up over her head and off her arm. She shook out her hair, feeling the girl's fingers at the bra hooks. Then the sudden surge of freedom in her breasts as the constrictures of straps and cups released her flesh.
Dully she stood, moving her limbs without thinking as the girl undressed her. Feeling the cool air on her naked body, she waited as Juana pinned up her hair. She felt herself moved toward the bath, heard the water running in the tub, and then immersed herself in the hot steamy liquid, laying back in the water, smelling the rich rose scent of the bath salts, feeling the heat opening her pores. She felt ... exhausted. As if she were sleepwalking, the languid warmth draining the last of the strength from her body, the water encompassing her thighs, her belly, lapping at the mounds of her breasts as she settled into it. She closed her eyes and delivered herself to the warmth, like crawling into a womb.
She heard the sounds of Juana moving about, undressing so she wouldn't get her clothes wet. Juana. She was growing up. Soon she'd have a man. Or want one.
And me, Carmela thought, what will I want? Now it's a pony, an Appaloosa. Will she grow up too, grow up to Arabians? And then maybe Morgans or Clydesdales? If it weren't so compulsive a question it'd be funny as hell. She had a quick sudden vision of herself, with gray hair and parched wrinkled skin sagging in rolls, clinging to a gigantic prick the size of a tree trunk, her arms and legs wrapped around it, nuzzling her face against the head of it, while somewhere up toward the clouds a long hairy face leered amusedly down at her. She grinned and then shook the thought out of her head. Silly. But Querido-her thighs suddenly seemed to be throbbing, the sensation rippling up the muscles between her legs straight to her vulva, the spasms contracting inside her vagina. Her clitoris, the nipples of her breasts tingled, growing erect. Then she gasped. Hands on her body! Startled, forgetting, she sat up quickly, the water rushing off her torso, her eyes opening wide.
Juana! Only Juana. Carmela sighed with relief. What the hell was the matter with her. She'd scared the poor girl half to death. She smiled an apology. The young girl smiled back, blushing, lathering the bar of soap between her hands.
Carmela looked at the flat nose, the broad Indian face, the deep bronze complexion, the straight coal-black hair. She remembered the look on that face when she'd been caught at the keyhole, playing between her thighs. She smiled, to herself this time, her eyes dropping, touching the two firm young breasts, the light nipples and areolae like beanshoots from two hills of raw earth. In time they would grow larger, voluminous, and sag like pendulums. But now they were young and alive and exquisite, goose bumps of flesh on twin areolae, the flesh of the globes swelled tight with fastgrowing succulent meat. Carmela felt her own nipples alive with feeling. Her eyes dropped further-to the tight flat belly skin, the silky pubic hair, the swelling cheeks of ass protruding tenderly from the graceful arched back, the girl kneeling beside the tub, rubbing her hands together in lather, like a golden woodnympth, a primitive young goddess kneeling to pray before a satyrist's horny altar.
Again the hands touched Carmela's skin, sliding soapily over her shoulders, her neck, her back-smooth and easy and lulling. Closing her eyes, Carmela let her pores suck in the feeling, giving herself to it, the hands massaging her back, massaging her mind into a lazy lethargy. The washcloth replaced the hands, rubbing gently and then rinsing, squeezing water to run off her shoulders, down her spine.
She lay back then, stretching lazily, feeling regally indulgent as the soapy hands firmly lathered over the slopes of her breasts, down her belly into the water, kneading, soothing, massaging. Two gentle hands cupping a breast, squeezing it, hands sliding up toward the nipple, swelling sensations into the tip then to the other breast, then rubbing over and around and between the two ripe globes. Hands down the belly, down her legs. Fingers lathering between her toes, washing her feet, and back up again over her calves, her thighs, first one leg and then the other.
Carmela delivered herself into the warmth, into the firm soothing hands. Half numb with the feeling, she felt the hand work beneath her, lifting under the cheeks of her buttocks, lifting her in the water as another hand lathered between her thighs, toying in her pubic hair, shooting sensations into her as it dipped and rubbed and played in the meat of her vulva, lathering, washing her. So good, the feeling.
The glow tingled deep in her pelvis, her clitoris throbbed, the muscles of her vagina lept at each other. Querido. The beast she'd delivered her body toless a beast than many two-legged ones she's spread her legs to-so long ago! When was the last time she'd had a .penis inside her? Not since-she shivered, remembering, revulsion gripping at her guts. Again she felt the clothes being ripped off her body. Again she saw herself, as if it had been somebody else, a character in a stag film or something that it was happening to, saw herself in the middle of a circle of penises-of pricks, hard and shining and menacingly ready. Pricks in her hands, against her cheeks, tapping at her mouth for entry, poking at her cunt, prodding her asshole, rubbing against her, all over her.
The hand dipped and slid and darted through her flesh, the feeling pushing at her emotions, sustaining them, suspending them in warming soapy lather. She moaned. Not even aware of it, she moaned. Not aware of her reality, of the girl, the hands. She lived in another place, saw herself there, the men around her leering, their pricks in their anxious fists around her, poking, ramming at the orifices of her body, wanting her, demanding her.
Straining her hips against it, Carmela saw the prick dip into her wet cunt, saw the lips of her panting hole licking out against the shaft as it slid slowly into her, pushing into her cunt. God, she wished it were bigger, wished it were Querido's! But it felt good, so good, so long since she'd felt a sex tool jammed inside her.
It was as if in her mind the reality had no meaning at all, as if the finger sliding into her blinded cunthole was a prick, an aching, feeling prick. The finger began to move, slowly, and then faster, the heel of the young girl's hand pressing, slipping back and forth over Carmela's stiff, explosive clitoris.
"Oohh!" Her eyes squeezed tight,, her head twisted from side to side, her face grimacing with the passion at her cunt, at her mind. Her hands gripped the sides of the tub, the knuckles white. She strained into the hand. Her buttocks, the muscles, her asshole, twitched and jerked, the lips of her cunt seemed to be sucking at the thing that fucked the hole between them, wanting more of it, wanting it bigger and longer, stronger, harder. Chingame, chingame!
The roar of her emotions in her ears drowned out the gasps of breath sucked between her gnashing teeth, the steady increasing slap slap of the water, of her own moans and cries and whimpers, and the hard breathing of the girl who ministered to her passions; her eyes were closed to the wide eyes that clawed obsessed at her flushed nipples, the mounds leaping and falling with the agitation of her lungs, the eyes at her belly, her hips, crawling down her legs and back, exploring every niche, every crevice, as a hungry tongue flicked over thick lips. She couldn't see Juana's own nipples stretched to bursting tautness, rubbing against the cold white porcelain tub, aching themselves, her lungs heaving, her skin flushed red beneath the bronze, her young untried pussy dripping wet and glistening with her juices. She couldn't see the girl's eyes getting wilder by the second, wilder with each stroke of her finger in her mistress's cunt.
"Chingame!" It was more a wail than a command.
She felt the pumping force of the thing in her cunthole, forcing the water into her, surging in and out like the pulsating strangeness of an alien member, a prick of another being than a man or beast, the prick of an ether-of spirit rather than substance, fucking her.
"Chingame, chingame!" Fuck me, fuck me, whatever you are, give it to me, fuck me!
Orgasm, it was coming, the ecstasy of it, pawing into her, pounding into her, blowing her up with its tensions, her veins swelling with it, getting ready to burst and blow her flesh like pieces of rubber all over the room, and she was ready for it, never giving a damn if she'd even survive the blast, knowing it was coming and ready for it.
"Fuck now!"
She wailed it out, oblivious to the frantic girl pitched into her own emotional turmoil, frantic with desire to please, frantic with the demands of her own shrieking pussy. Carmela wailed the command to the prick in her hysterical cunt, to a dozen other pricks wafting like specters behind her eyelids, rippling, oscillating with the surging ecstasy consuming her.
And then she was there, coming! Simultaneously with it, the prick was gone, the illusion of it in the splash, splashes, water spraying her, her body pushed up in the tub, her legs lifted, spread wider, her ass lifted completely out of the water! The sensation at her cunt! Coming, coming, she didn't give a fuck, just loving the coming, immersed in the ecstasy of it, wanting to drown in it, just swim in and never come out of it.
She didn't care what was happening, couldn't think of it, just feeling it, the ether at her cunt, an ether mouth, sucking her, tonguing her, loving her, swallowing her clitoris, licking her asshole, nibbling her pussylips, eating her cunt, and she wanted it to-whatever it was-to take her all, eat her up, swallow her whole.
A long time, such a long time, the ecstasy consumed her, coming, living it, and then gradually, even as the mouth between her legs continued to suck her detumescing pussy, languishing her with the sweet goodness of it, she permitted her mind to recognize the feeling, the source of her pleasure. She opened her eyes.
The big black eyes, smiling up at her from between her legs-Mother of God, what had she done! She was still a child. Her long hair floating atop the water, suds on her cheekshow could she be doing this to the child! She groaned.
She pushed the head away from her, shoved, anger rising in her guts and contorting her face where the ecstasy had been just moments before. Shock, pain, flushed the girl's features even a deeper crimson.
It was wrong. As wrong as the thing she'd already done. She saw the hurt, the blinding unjust pain of the rejection rise behind Juana's eyes, like water rising in a meter indicator. Carmela couldn't do it. Feeling the choke in her throat, her hand reached out again, grabbed the girl's head, pulling her up atop her in the bathtub, water cascading around them, feeling the girl's wet slippery flesh against hers, the wet hair trailing across her breasts just before she hugged the girl to her.
Both of them crying now, wailing and clutching each other, rolling in the tub, bound to each other. Carmela whispered gently in Spanish, soothing, caressing, then gradually, as the girl calmed, telling her how her body had ached for satisfaction but that it was wrong, that Juana would someday find a man-that what had happened between them must never happen again.
Again the sobs racked the girl in Carmela's arms, while Carmela stroked and talked gently, calming her.
She just needed love-and she shouldn't find it in her arms, Carmela reasoned ... find even a semblance of sexual satisfaction. It could change her entire direction, turn a sweet loving potential family woman into a sorrowful dyke.
Carmela's limbs were still weak from her orgasm, the glow of it still stretching through her loins which curled about Juana's narrower hips, her cuntlips still acutely sensitive from the attentions of the girl's hands, her hot sucking mouth.
Gently, she had the girl to rise, and stood up herself. With Juana waiting, curled in the crook of her arm, Carmela opened the drain of the tub and adjusted the shower spray to rinse the suds from their bodies, from Juana's straight black hair. Moments later they were giggling, toweling each other down. For Carmela it was the first time she'd seen Juana when the servant seemed really happy, as if for the first time the young girl had found a friend;-she hoped the girl thought of it as friend instead of lover.
The drapes at the end of the room were a screen of illumination, light projected through them from the neon signs and flood lamps in the motel court beyond them. On the wide double bed between her own and the drapes, Juana could see her mistress, tossing and turning in troubled sleep-or perhaps still awake-wearing the sheer thigh-length blue gown and panties Juana had laid out for her. On the other side of her mistress was Rico, on his back, staring at the ceiling. The air conditioner hummed in the background, and occasionally she could hear a car door slam and an engine starting, the headlights across the drapes illuminating them even brighter.
She wished she could make sleep easier for her mistress. She smiled, nuzzling into the pillow, into the fresh smell of clean linen. Her skin still tingled from her bath, from the memory of Carmela's hands on her. Usually it was only her hands that could possess that tingling awareness of her mistress's touch.
Again Carmela turned in sleep-in restless non sleep?-and Juana's eyes followed the tilt of her chin, the hollow of her neck, the quickly rising swell of breasts, the drop to her narrow waist, the flare of her hips, the curves of her legs. She wished so hard she could be half as lovely, half as perfect!
Tomorrow she would wear the blue-and-white striped bell-bottoms and the white knit sleeveless blouse that scooped low over the tops of her breasts, clinging to the mounds and the exquisite waist. She'd brush her hair until it shined, like polished gold nuggets hidden in the reddish dark strands of spun earth.
Laying on her side, her knees drawn up, her hands clasped together between her thighs, her legs squeezed together compulsively around her hands. The muscles in her thighs contracted. She wished she could just give her mistress ... pleasure. She wouldn't have to do anything back, she wouldn't even have to acknowledge it.
Juana's hand twitched, remembering feeling the hairs, the hard nubby clitoris, the soft yielding folds of lips between Carmela's thighs, of the spongy flesh on the inside of her vagina. She wished she were touching it now.
Her eyes touched the tops of Carmela's tanned legs, the spot hidden now under the sheer powder-blue cloth of silken panties. In the next bed, hardly three feet separated their two bodies, yet it was so far away. Her lips quivered, her tongue flicked out across them, and then curled, a licking motion, remembering how her mouth had charged her mistress's sensitive flesh, how her tongue had licked and her mouth had sucked, savoring the soapy taste, the juicy tender touch of it.
Oh, she wished she were sucking it now! The flood of juices at her crotch, in her pussy-Tor merited with the passion of her longing, she inwardly groaned, wanting to let out the sound but not daring to. Her hands shifted, seemingly against her will. She didn't want to touch herself-Her middle finger laid itself in the wet crease-of her tender quivering pussy, and then rubbed up through it, spreading the thick gliding moistness to her throbbing clitoris. She pressed against it. Hard. The sensation making her head spin. She fought hard to control her breathing, to remain perfectly still. But inside she was seething with violent motion, her emotions churning.
Ramirez turned over. Juana's heart stopped beating. It took a long second before she realized he had turned away from her. She just knew he had heard her, or felt the way she touched her crotch, or seen the sparks fly out of her soul. But of course he hadn't, he couldn't have.
Pressing her finger hard over her clitoris again, her eyes dropped closed with the sensation. She let the hard nub of it slide back and forth beneath her pressing finger, battling for control of her breath in her lungs as her brain sucked in the feeling, sucked at the emotion inside her the feeling produced. She wondered how it would feel if it were Carmela's finger-not that she'd have to, not that Juana would even expect her to, she just wondered how it would feel.
The finger slid down the crease again, exploring, down to the tiny hole. Why was hers so different from Carmela's? Where her mistress had a smooth-sided silky channel, her own-she stuck the end of her finger inside her-was so small she couldn't even put her finger in it past the first joint, and then it hurt. She wished it didn't. Sometimes the feeling inside her! She felt as if she had to stick something inside. There was such an itch, such an obsession! Her body flushed even deeper remembering the sight of Rico's penis. She wondered how it would feel. No! Mother of God, it would kill her! There was something wrong with her, she knew it, she could never take anything that size in her tiny tender hole. Even her mistress couldn't take. How repulsive the image in her mind. Carmela sucking Rico's penis. She had seen it with her own eyes. And not just once. She had seen them together several times, and she knew Rico wanted to poke his penis in Carmela's hole, but Carmela feared it so badly she had taken it in her mouth instead. Juana resolved that she too would never take a penis in her hole. If she ever had to take a man she'd take him in her mouth, like her mistress.
She remembered how Rico's face had looked as Carmela had sucked him. He had moaned, his face lighted with such heavenly bliss, his hips coming up off the bed. Juana could hear her mistress's mouth, slurping round the big penis, her head bobbing up and down on it, her hair swinging from side to side. And Rico had sucked Carmela. She had liked it, she had cried out from the intensity of her passion for his mouth. Juana smiled. Just as she'd called out to me.
Riding back up the slippery crease, Juana's finger slowly began to manipulate the loose flesh over her clitoris, the ecstasy there between her legs, drowning out thoughts, producing voluptuous visions: Carmela, on her back, her legs spread wide, quivering as Juana crawled between them, crawled toward the sweet waiting cunt. She could see every hair. The lips guarding the hole were flushed red. It was wet between them, glistening wet.
As Juana crept closer, the legs spread wider. The lips separated with a barely audible smack, and there was the opening like an inverted teardrop, gleaming wet, the hole beyond it black and enigmatic, an elfin treasure cave of mystery and riches. There was an eave of loose flesh above the hole, a tiny taut whitened knuckle at its center. All of it, Carmela's cunt, the hairs, the flesh, the hole, it pulsed, alive, aware, excited, waiting for Juana. For Juana's mouth.
And in her mind she moved the last inch, her mouth hanging open, her tongue protruding. The tip of her tongue touched the clitoris in its eave and then drew back. The clitoris vibrated, wildly, like a clapper arm against an alarm bell. Juana's lips widened with pleasure. Again the tongue darted out, this time to the wet hole--just the tip of the tongue passed inside it and then lapped around and around it as the hole contracted and expanded, trying to grasp the source of its pleasure and suck it inside. Juana could taste it on her tongue, the scent of it in her nostrils. And now her finger charging at her clitoris, fluttering across it, her mind saw her mouth attacking Carmela's cunt, attacking it like a starving lioness pouncing on a gazelle-sucking it, tonguing it, lapping at it, kneading it with her lips.
Jacking her pussy, fearful of discovery and fighting off any exterior sign of what she was doing, that other part of her mind seeing the images, she sucked the cunt of her mistress, feeling the spongy meat in her mouth, the stiff clitoris under her tongue, felt the thighs lunging at each other against the sides of her head, heard the moans from Carmela's throat, felt her hips bucking in ecstatic passion.
If she only could suck her mistress every day. Produce the ecstasy she knew she was capable of, had proven she was capable of, so few hours ago in the bath. Juana was good at it, she knew she was. She was even better than Querido. Juana knew Carmela "performed" with Querido in a "casa de camas," where men paid to poke their penises in women, and paid to see things. Carmela performed with Querido. Juana had imagined how it must be. She had even tried it herself. Hadn't Querido tried to lick her breasts every time she got near him? She'd let him suck her nipples. Many times. And there'd been those times when she'd lain in the hay and spread her legs and let him lick at her pussy, lap between her legs with his rough tongue, while she fucked with her finger at her clitoris. That was what Carmela did, of course.
In her mind, her mistress rapidly approaching a climax, Juana felt the tongue of Querido between her own legs, bringing her to an orgasm at the same time as her mistress. Then the orgasm was on her, surging through her, consuming her. She choked off the sounds in her throat. She reeled, feeling the strain of it burst, careening, and then ebb, rushing out of her into the sheets like water poured from an urn. And then sighing ecstatically, satiated with peace, she found she could breathe again. She had no idea how long she lay there dozing, dreaming happily of her mistress. Then, with the voice, the smallest whisper, she came fully awake.
"Rico?" It was a hesitant plea.
Ramirez turned toward Carmela, whispering his reply: "I'm awake, Melita."
Sounds of the covers rustling as Carmela shifted closer. "I ... need you, Rico!"
Juana saw their arms grappling at each other, the bodies merging into each other. She heard the sounds of their breaths, of the hiss, of their hands and bodies. His hand tugged at her panties-but hers stopped him. Her whisper was hoarse and lusty, barely audible. "Do you think Juanita is asleep?"
Ramirez' voice: "She's asleep."
Her eyes clouding, Juana wished it had been her, her mistress had called. She loved her, her mistress loved her, she'd even called her Juanita. And she could do it better, she knew it.
Carmela's legs, the knees raised, her buttocks lifting, the panties down and off, tossed aside. Ramirez' hands, tugging up the short sheer gown, baring her breasts. His hand squeezed, his mouth dropped to them, sucking.
If only it had been me! "I ... need you, Rico!"
His mouth coming off her tits just long enough to answer. "I'm here, Melita."
Her hands tugging at his head. "I need ... your prick, Rico!"
Juana's heart froze in her breast.
"Your ... fucking prick!"
No! Even as she watched she couldn't believe it, she'd never seen Carmela like this. Ramirez climbing on top of her, his face grinning, being tugged on top of her, her legs spreading for him, her hand groping for his prick. Juana could see it, huge, protruding from his body like a fat roll of toffee, see Carmela's hand grope for it and grab it, squeezing, pointing it toward her cunt! No, she couldn't!
He lowered himself on her and Juana knew it was going in, going deep.
Carmela moaned, "Oohhh!"
No!.
"Mother of God!" No!
"Fuck ... me, Rico." No! God, how could- "Fuck me."
He was lunging at her in and out. "Harder. Harder, Rico!"
Despite herself, Juana felt the twinge begin again in the depths of her vagina, the strange desire to be poked in it, even though her brain cringed with every plummeting stroke of Ramirez' penis, knew the pain of it as if it were her own hole he raped.
"Harder!"
Fiercely he lunged, his belly slapping into hers.
"That's ... it!" SlappingMother of God!
"Rip ... my ... guts ... out ... with ... that ... prick!" Ohh!
"Yesss, fuck me ... oh, God, goddamn ... fuck me!"
Watching, hurt, angry, bewildered, her emotions unsortable, Juana's body shrieked with desire again, her hand stabbed between her legs, her finger groping for her clitoris.
"Ram it!"
Her eyes wild on the couple in the bed, she jacked at her pussy, worked at it, uncontrollably, sadistically, unmindful of anything except her turmoil, a need for orgasm, a need for fulfillment!
"Fuck me!"
"Si ... Melita ... si!" Si!
Breathing, heavier, the noise careening. "Fuck ... my aching ... burning-"
"I'm ... fucking!"
"-My ... cunt!"
"Melita!"
"Fuck me!"
"I'm-"
"No, God ... damn you, you ... prick!"
"-Coming!"
"You ... son ... of ... a ... bitch!"
His voice begging in its whisper: "Come!"
"Don't ... don't stop!"
"I'm coming!"
The son of a whore, Juana hated him, hated him for having a penis, for hurting her mistress, for fucking her, for not satisfying her-but glad he couldn't, she could do, she had done it, in the bath, given her mistress the sweet feel of ecstasy, while, he, he could do nothing, nothing. In the smug glow of the thought she felt the swoop of ecstasy accelerating.
"Don't ... for God's sake!"
"Come!"
Yes! I'm ... oh sweet mother of Je-Oohh!
"No! ... Yes? Yes ... hold!"
The slap, slap of bodies slowed but heightened, louder the sounds cut through the room.
Carmela's voice roared, straining in a loud forced whisper, "Yes ... goddamn ... I'm-"
"I'm coming!"
"I'm coming! Yes ... fuck ... meeee, oohhh-"
Juana was coming, she was coming, she didn't give a damn at that instant for either of them, just living the crazy spin of her senses in her own pleasure, but knowing theirs was the same, feeling it, an electric flux in the room, permeating her pores, making her flesh crawl with the intensity of it, joining with them, the three of them coming, coming, coming in, on, around each other, a thick heavy flux like the juices of cunts and pricks splashing, flooding over them, engulfing them, until they swam in it, floated in it, and lay in it until at last it receded, letting them back to their beds, the smell of sweat and sex heavy in the air.
Rolling over, turning her back to them, Juana faced the wall. She didn't care if they saw she was awake, had watched them. He was a bastard, a pig, the son of a whore, the raper of his grandmother, he was ... a man. And Carmela?
Her eyes clouded again with her tears and the choke feeling squeezed at her throat.
-She deserved no better than him.
Kitty sat on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water, shifting back and forth lazily. Damn, she was sore! She'd showered and douched and still she felt unclean. Still, she smiled, it had been pretty damned good there for a while. She looked up at the sky. Stars. How many billions? A breeze had lifted the smog out of the valley-it happened so seldom now-and she could see the stars.
She blushed as she remembered another star-filled night, laying flat on her back in fresh-cut grass, while-what was his name?-had pleaded with her to let him do "it," extolling the rapturous virtues of "it." There had to be a first time, what was she holding onto virginity for? She finally let him persuade her. She had already let every male out of short pants "persuade" her that summer, why not him too? She smiled, remembering what a silly sanctimonious bitch she'd tried to appear to everybody. It's a wonder any boy had ever even tried to do "it" with her.
"Feeling better?"
Kitty turned to the voice, startled back to reality.
Matt grinned at her. "Just me." He dropped his legs over the side of the pool, his thigh rubbing against hers.
She nuzzled into him, her hand automatically reaching for his limp penis. She sat that way a long time, not wanting to think. Then the question bubbled out in her shrill little girl voice: "Was she ... good?"
His arm squeezed around her shoulders. "Which one?" The image of Krista rose up in his eyes out of the mist rising from the water of the pool. He fought to control any reaction in his penis.
"You know."
He laughed. "They were all good!"
"But-" Kitty struggled for words, then gave it up. "Was she good?"
Matt followed her gaze. His eyes picked up the entire panorama. The pony munching on a plant at the edge of the patio, Mavis had finally let him go and was now laying flat on her back on the blanket, moaning, with Ed's head between her thighs, making mad noises sucking her cunt. Connie, her tan freckled skin contracting against Tony's olive white, was astride him, haunching on his prick, her hair hiding her face as she loomed over him, propped up on her hands beside his head. Just as Matt turned his head, he saw Phyllis crawl to where Bob sat spread out on a towel, his own attentions on Connie's writhing body, and take his growing prick in her hand, smiling up at him, racking it a couple of strokes expertly and then enveloping it with her sucking mouth. Lila was laying on a chaise beneath Tom's long powerful strokes, every downstroke bringing a gasp from the girl's mouth, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, on the threshold of her orgasm.
He looked for Krista but couldn't see her. Then she was coming out of the den, a glass in her hand, her gigantic breasts swaying with her movements, so fantastically formed and large for such a small delicate-appearing frame.
"Her," Kitty said, bringing him back to reality.
He started to tell her that she had been utterly fantastic-not "utterly," it sounded like a bad pun. But then he realized she wasn't talking about Krista at all. She was talking about Lila. Lila, the youngest one-eighteen-her body so firm and shapely and tight it was like an expensive delicate instrument, her breasts so firm, her nipples, if you tweaked them, would probably twang like a guitar string. She was something else.
He watched with Kitty as Tom's shortened strokes-he would have come out through her tonsils if he gave her all he had-brought the girl to a gasping shuddering climax. Matt's prick got hard in Kitty's hand. "Well?"
He kissed her on the lips. "She's a child. Built beautifully. But all she knows yet is to lay there. She's got a nice tight little shallow pussy-" he tightened the muscles in the base of his penis making it throb in Kitty's hand "-about like yours," he teased. "In another five or ten years she'll be almost as good as you are now. Of course, by then you'll be that much better."
Her hand squeezed his dick. "I love you."
His hand around her shoulder dropped to her round breast, cupping it, squeezing it. "I love you."
Nuzzling her face into his shoulder, she was happy for the moment. Confident. "Tell me about them all."
Laughing, he told her: "None of them are as exciting as you."
"You say I'm a child, a little girl."
"Sometimes you act like it, but you're all woman, baby, the most exciting, delicious talented fucking woman."
"Tell me about Mavis."
He grinned. "Mavis just wants to get sucked. She wants her tits sucked, her toes sucked, her cunt sucked, her nose sucked-" Kitty giggled.
"-And she doesn't even want to suck back." Her face wrinkled mockingly. "That's unfair!"
"Goddamn right!" he said emphatically. "But Phyllis there-"
"She rather suck than eat?"
"Well ... than fuck anyway." The two of them watched silently a moment as Bob, grunting, his hands on Phyllis's bouncing careening head, strained his dick in her mouth, guiding her head on him. Matt felt the nipple at his fingertips stiffening, felt the lungs beneath the pneumatic breast pump harder. Even before Phyllis choked and gagged, it was obvious Bob was coming, spewing come as if he hadn't already a few times, filling her throat as she tried to swallow. At last she relaxed and the tension went out of her arched buttocks, her mouth still sucking, easily now, her tongue coming out of her mouth licking him off.
Matt could talk again, his tongue thick in his mouth. "I think she gets a feeling of power sucking a man off-" he smiled, kissing the top of her head "-nice as it is. And she is magnificent at it."
"As good as I am?"
"Don't be silly." He had no intention of answering that one.
"And Connie and the rest of them? They're all so much slimmer than I am."
He laughed. "You mean they're not as ... voluptuous ... as you are." He growled teasingly in her ear.
"And Krista?"
He paused. "Krista could fuck a horse."
"And she does," Kitty laughed.
"So I hear." No need to tell her that Krista could make any man feel like a horse, like the greatest fucking stud.
"Matt?"
"Yes, sweetheart."
"Fuck me, Matt. Like you really mean it."
She fell backwards, drawing him with her. His mouth groped for hers, his hand squeezing into the firm rounded flesh of her tit.
"I always mean it."
Then their wet sliding lips fused, his tongue passed into the cavern of her mouth. Their wet legs grinded against each other. Matt reveled in the voluptuous softness of her, the ... buoyance of her lush body. Her hand tugged on his prick guiding it, and then it was at the hole, penetrating. He felt the head of it forcing its way inside, feeling it tighter even than usual, knowing she was sore-sore from a fucking animal. The thought was there in his mind, he could see her, taking that fucking pony's dick in her goddamn cunt. His fucking cunt! His hips lunged!
He wanted to hurt her, knew he would hurt her. He was sorry, even as he did it. It was cruel. He couldn't blame her.
She screamed with the pain.
"Oh, baby, baby, I'm sorry!"
"Fuck me, Matt?" Her voice had tears in it. "Hurt me, fuck me and make it hurt!"
Her voice was plaintive, penitent. "I'm sorry, Matt. Hurt me, fuck me, I want to fuck!"
His hips drove, and receded and drove again, hard. In every stroke he felt her wincing, felt the hurt himself.
"We've sold it, we're rid of it?"
He knew then what she was thinking. "Yes, baby."
Her hips were haunching back now, writhing and haunching, her eyes closed against her tormented pleasure and the soreness of her cunt. "No more ... Matt, no more ... dogs or horses or ... monkeys or ... kangaroos." Her voice dropped an octave.
He drove in her, pounded his dick with all his might into her shrilly moaning flesh.
"No more ... men, if you want, Matt ... just
... you."
He could feel the depths of her, hear her shrill little-girl voice dropping, could feel inside her cunt, the growing intensity of it, the sheer beauty of it coming alive with desire for him, just for him.
"Fuck me, Matt! Fuck me and ... love me!" Her voice was deep and hoarse and ... mature.
I've got a woman on my hands! He smiled. On my fucking dick! He fucked her, the passion flooding over him, over her. He fucked her.
And he loved her.