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White Slave (MF, intr, mc, nc, dom)
by Unknown Author
Chapter 1
Margaret Sorenson spilled another quarter-cup of Spic 'n Span
into the plastic wash bucket and swirled it around with her
delicate hand, feeling the grit instantly dissolve into sterile
suds. She churned the suds to life and dipped her scrub brush
into the hot soapy water to continue the humble task of scrubbing
years of accumulated wax from the yellowed floor of her landlord's
kitchen. Her modest red and white checkered house dress, still
speckled with furniture polish from yesterday's house cleaning,
pulled across her lap to expose her slim thighs. Margaret poked a
finger to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her nape-tied scarf
and, wiping a purling drop of sweat from her unwrinkled brow with
a swipe of her sudsy hand, sat up to admire the rewards of her
plebeian task. In an arm's stretch semi-circle around her, an
oasis of white glistened in a desert of sandy yellow. Another two
hours of sweating and scrubbing and backache, and she would have
worked off one week's rent here at her Geary Street apartment in
downtown San Francisco. But the thirty-eight year old woman
refused to complain; at least she had a roof over her head, which
was a lot more than many women in her situation could brag of.
The proud Swede had seen many an unfortunate woman in the
social security collection lines. Single women, many not over
forty, bent and stunted from malnutrition and medical neglect, a
hive of buzzing, scraggly children at each side, pulling on her
work-wearied body, each claiming a part of a mother who hadn't the
energy left to enjoy her blessing of motherhood. And in the
welfare lines too ... unkempt, dirty hair, worn-down heels on
blistering over-sized shoes bought for a quarter at St. Vincent de
Paul's. The poverty and humility brought tears to Margaret's
eyes. No, she would never resort to such poverty, even now in her
widowed years. She would work off her debts with honest physical
labor and not complain how many backaching hours it took to
satisfy Roger Blasser's insistent demands.
After all, as landlord's go, he had been sympathetic enough
to appreciate her dour situation since Sandor was killed in the
construction accident down south of Market Street. Then, too, her
poverty was only a temporary inconvenience; the union lawyers were
working overtime trying to get a court date to settle the lawsuit
involving Sandor Sorenson's needless death in the explosion that
rocketed him twenty feet in the air to crash on the steel beams
still loaded on the flat-bed truck below. When the case was
finally settled, the union lawyers anticipated a $500,000
settlement for his death, plus another $100,000 for her trauma and
personal loss; that didn't include either of Sandor's two life
insurance policies that would come due in two months.
When her ship came in, she'd pack up her modest belongings
and buy a ticket back to Sweden where her relatives were crying
for her. But that was in the future and the thirty-eight year old
husbandless blonde realized she must cope with the squalor of her
existence until she could free herself. She would put up with the
wheezing hydraulic brakes of the city's busses that roared beneath
her bedroom window, and the cockroaches that infested every openly
seeping draining in the soon-to-be condemned apartment house where
a conglomerate of centurians, widows, taxi drivers, hippies left
over from the flower days of Haight Street, and single-parented
children hovelled in the ruins of what was once an elegant place
to call home. It had its amenities, too. The rent was
extraordinarily cheap for San Francisco, and transportation was
readily available for people like Margaret who couldn't afford a
car. Then, too, the landlord would accept excuses when the rent
was late, like now; or better, still, he would accept what humble
labor she could offer in exchange for a place to call home.
In the three years she had occupied her third floor one-
bedroom apartment here on Geary Street, she had grown comfortable
and had made friends with some of the occupants who shared the
ten-story eyesore. After Sandor's death the widower from upstairs
whose television set she had tolerated at three o'clock in the
morning for three yeas without protest, ingratiated himself by
inviting her up for coffee and to watch the afternoon soap operas.
And Lola from across the hall had invited her to Saturday
afternoon Matinees. So it wasn't as if nobody appreciated her
loss. Roger, too, had invited her to his apartment on several
occasions, a truth which brought a blush to her cheeks and she
kneed over to the far corner of the kitchen, pushing her sloshing
mop bucket along ahead of her.
Roger ... she mused, watching the water drip from the natural
bristle scrub brush before descending it to the floor. Roger had
been more than kind. Sandor wouldn't approve of her cooking and
cleaning for another man, she thought guiltily; but what was she
to do? Spend the rest of her life holed-up crocheting and mending
house-dresses? Ah, it was silly! There wasn't anything between
she and Roger. Margaret levered herself to her knees and elbows
and dug the brush into the yellowed linoleum, watching cakes of
dirt and wax lift like magic. But her mind wasn't on the floor,
it was on Roger. Roger would be home soon, and for some
unexplainable reason, she didn't want him to see her on elbows and
knees like a common scrub lady. she was only thirty-eight; she
had time to live ... and love.
Oh, sure, he'd kissed her one time and hugged her, lifting
her off the floor with his strong Arabian arms. But that was just
kidding around, nothing serious. Roger liked women, Margaret knew
with a small pang of jealousy. She'd seen several women, all
dressed for the night club and heavily made-up, leaving his
apartment at strange hours. Margaret sat up on her haunches,
yanking down her dress that had hiked up to her thighs. Yes, she
reasoned generously, Roger should have many women, he surely had
the looks of a lady's man with his black thick hair and rich
tanned skin. For a man of forty-five, he still carried himself in
a dignified manner, straight and tall and strong. Margaret liked
that. Sandor had been a strong man.
Tonight she would cook for him. Oh, he wasn't subtracting
anything off of the rent for her kitchen labors, but he'd once
said he loved meatballs and gravy, and Swedish meatballs was her
dish -- and it would be good having a man praise her cooking
again. It had been so long ... so darned long since she'd had
anything to look forward to.
* * *
Margaret had cleared the gravy-smeared plates and run warm
water from the dripping faucet to rinse them off before the cock-
roaches decided it was time for a meal and came lurking out of the
woodwork in silent armies. In the living room off the kitchen,
she could hear the television set's scratchy roar; it sounded like
a baseball game. Suddenly she remembered the world series season
was upon fans everywhere; Sandor had always watched it, too,
sitting in his favorite overstuffed chair, nursing a can of cold
beer. The remembrance brought a smile to her lipsticked lips.
Running a dishpan full of hot water, she set the dirty dishes in
to soak and walked into the screen-lit room to sit beside Roger.
Roger smiled down at the blonde woman beside him and slipped
his arm around her, never taking his eyes off the television set.
Somehow it all seemed comfortable, and Margaret felt no guilt at
this man showing a gesture of absent-minded affection toward her.
She basked contentedly, sitting back on the aging springs of the
sofa, and pulled a hand crocheted afghan over her knees that had
been folded and thrown over the back. Her full stomach and after
dinner glass of wine suddenly made her feel drowsy and she took
the silent liberty of resting her head on Roger's shoulder.
"You're a hell of a cook," whispered Roger when the Gillette
commercial interrupted the game. The Arabian landlord gave her
shoulder a gentle nudge. His hand felt strong and powerful
through the thin fabric of her cotton dress.
"T'ank you. And did you like the way I clean your floors?"
she asked in her sing-songy Swedish accent, squeezing a little
closer to the man's side.
And then, without a word between them, Roger allowed his
fingers to slide along the upthrust swell of her breast until his
opened palm cupped the full swinging mound of her tit delicately.
He could feel her body stiffen, her breath suddenly coming faster
as with one finger, his middle one, he caressed the inviting
softness of her breast, rubbing the swollen tiny peak of her
nipple through her flimsy dress as he admired the ample, womanly
figure she still possessed. She was a specimen of health, her
skin tight and resilient, so typical of blonde Nordics, and her
shimmering blonde hair showed only one streak of platinum gray.
Roger could hear a little purr coming from her lips, and he smiled
to himself savoring the effect he was having on her ... he had her
wrapped around his finger, that was for sure, right where he
wanted to keep her. She needed affection, that he knew and in
return she would bring him a gold mine if only half of those law
suits and insurance policies came to fruition. A lonely woman in
a strange country with no man ... hell!
He tweaked the sensitive nipple with his thumb and index
finger, and she shivered involuntarily from the tip of her toes
along her spine to her shoulders. Pausing for a moment, he moved
his exploring hand around the firm curve of her breast until his
fingers found what he was looking for: with practiced deftness, he
eased the zipper down along the satiny plane of her back until he
reached the taut elastic band of her panties. He stopped there an
instant slipping his fingers between her warm flesh and the tight
band, far enough down the hollow of her naked back to reach the
first few inches of her fleshy buttock crevice. Teasingly, he
flicked a finger against the tightly puckered ring of her anus and
felt her quickly shrink away.
Shit, I'll bet old Sandor never poked his prick in there,
Roger mused to himself.
He massaged her nakedly sensitive flesh in slow concentric
circles as his hand eased back along the smoothness of her back
until he reached the stretched fabric of her dress, pulled taut
now over her shoulders. Pausing first to unsnap the tiny three
hooks of her bra, he then eased the shoulders of her dress down
along her arms until the dress hung limply over her whitely firm
breasts.
He stopped his smooth seductive motions and looked Margaret
over again, eyeing hungrily the rich, womanly full swells and
hollows of her well-formed body. Yes sir, she was quite a nice
looking woman, all right.
Again with his right hand, Roger tumbled the fabric of
Margaret's dress and the sheer tissue of her bra over the bulging
mounds of her breasts, exposing the twin half-dollars of her fully
erect nipples, all pinkish and excited at being exposed to the air
and to his eyes. They swelled even more rigidly as a sudden chill
breeze caressed them, sending a burst of rippling electricity
through her breasts and down into her man-hungry belly, fanning
the embers of a long-dormant fire that once burned there.
Yes, God help her, she had been so long without a man, so
long she had nearly forgotten the magic of a real man's touch, the
thrilling ecstasy of being looked at and caressed this way.
His outstretched fingertips brushed lightly over the soft,
warmly beckoning bulge of her tits, first one, then the other,
before finally clamping tightly over the ripely mature mound,
squeezing the delicate ivory-white flesh between his clenched
fingers.
Margaret could stand no more; she had kept silent as long as
she could. "Oh, you are a sweet man, Roger. Oh, it feel so
good."
Her knees were opening and closing like an accordion and she
flung the afghan to the floor; her firmly fleshed buttocks were
ground tightly against the sofa. Margaret could feel the warm
dampness of love juice spreading between her thighs as the cheeks
of her fully rounded ass clenched like starving lips at the
fabric, beneath them. Even his touch was driving her almost
insane with heated desire; she was going out of her mind with
blind passion ... a scream was ready to burst from her lungs any
second now from the agonizing deliciousness of his knowledgeable
fingers were bringing her. She offered no resistance as he shoved
her over onto the cushions of the long sofa, stretching himself
out beside her and continuing to relentlessly caress the nakedly
soft white mounds of her full fleshy breasts. A low moaning cry
escaped from her lips as he roughly squeezed the tenderly
pulsating nipples between his fingers, toying with them
mercilessly as her whole body trembled and quivered from his
touch.
His hands left the feverishly jutting nipples and slowly
eased along the flat plane of her belly. Margaret's body arched
off the sofa as his fingers slipped once again under the waist-
band of her panties, brushing over the fluffy mound of her sparse
pubic hair until his hand made a maddening electric contact with
the warmly moist lips of her cunt; even in the dim light of the
television Roger could see her flesh was covered with a million
tiny goose-bumps as she shivered convulsively at his wonderful
touch.
"Oooo, it is so nice, so nice ..." the love-starved widow
murmured mindlessly, floating in space now at the ecstasy of a
man's hands down there on her naked cunt.
Clutching the moist flanges of her pussy with his palm, Roger
ventured a finger between the wetly pink ridges, and Margaret
gasped as her feverish loins suddenly ground tightly up against
his hand. His middle finger now slowly explored the entire hot
length of her narrow wet slit, starting with the taut muscular
ring of her anus, easing over the hard membrane of flesh that
separated the two enticing channels before the probing finger
finally reached the moistly clasping sheath of her pussy.
The soft pink walls parted unhesitantly as his outstretched
rigid finger slipped into the warmly clasping tunnel, and he could
feel the fleshy passage open hungrily as he probed it deeply with
his finger.
"That feel good?" he asked, sure of himself now.
Margaret tried to reply, but as her lips parted to speak,
Roger sadistically squirmed a second stiffened finger into her
constrictive passage, burying it up to the last joint in the warm
juicy depths of her cunt. Only a muffled cry of pain and pleasure
came hoarsely from her throat.
"Well, like it or not?" he teased again, grinning down at her
between pearly white teeth accentuated by his bushy black mustache
and flashing chocolate eyes. He wiggled his two fingers deep
inside her hot, softly-layered flesh.
"God, oh, yaaaa!"
Roger's ravishing finger slipped from her pussy wetly
clasping grip, and he tantalizingly dragged his fingertip along
her warm slit until he found the throbbing little bulb of her
clitoris. Using just his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed the
incredibly sensitive nerve-ending as the sex-hungry widow moaned
and squirmed beside him on the sofa. Back and forth, as if
playing with a marble, he rolled the pulsing little nodule, and
Margaret gasped and choked for air as rippling waves of undiluted
passion and ecstasy swept over her shamelessly aroused body.
As her naked pelvis ground upward tightly against his palm,
Roger continued his maddening assault on her loins, twisting and
pulling on her hardened pink clitoris until she moaned and cried
out loudly from the delightful agonies of his skillful fondling.
"Don't stop, please ... Don't stop!" she screamed between
hissing teeth, her shrill words reverberating above the roar of
the baseball fans on television.
Sensing she was near her orgasm, Roger began to roughly rub
her moistly throbbing cuntal slit with the tips of his fingers,
stroking over the quivering fleshy peak of her clitoris and along
the hot furrow between the hungrily pursed lips of her cunt.
"Oh, yaa, ya, ya!"
Suddenly Margaret's buttocks and back arched high off the
sofa, and as if she were possessed by dozen demons, her warmly
moist cunt began grinding madly against his open hand as a long
pitiful moan slipped from her parched half-open lips.
"Oooohhh ... Aaahhh ..." The impassioned young widow
suddenly quivered from head to foot and jerked convulsively as the
shuddering currents of her orgasm raced from her hotly straining
loins, bathing his hand in a slippery gush of orgasmic juices that
soaked his palm and seeped down the crevice of her buttocks before
spreading in lewd trickles over the soft half moon cheeks of her
ass. Finally, with a trembling sigh, she slowly sank down on the
couch, lying face to face with her landlord.
She gasped hoarsely, still struggling to regain her breath.
"Oh, oh that felt so good!"
Roger only smiled wordlessly, pulling his fingers from the
warm wet grip of her pussy, wiping the slippery traces of her
orgasmic fury from his hand with a handkerchief, keeping one eye
on the baseball game. Then he spoke, "We're not done yet. Take
off your clothes."
Without thinking, Margaret hurriedly removed her crumpled
dress and panties, then unhooked her garter belt and, sitting on
the edge of the sofa, pulled down her stockings and left them in a
heap on the living room carpet. In just a few seconds, she was
completely naked, her ripely mature body glistening with tiny
beads of perspiration from the excitement and the anguished
anticipation of having her first man in almost six months. She
glanced down at him reclining on the sofa with his head tilted
toward the television screen watching the Oakland A's hit a home
run, and she covetously eyed the thick elongated bulge in his
polyester pants that seemed to her passion-glazed eyes to be a
foot long. She twitched nervously, unused to a man's hungry eyes
on her naked flesh. "You 'vant to watch 'vatch me or de game?"
she whined finally, grinding her sleekly firm thighs together to
fight the growing agony between her legs.
But Roger had other plans, plans he'd laid out as carefully
as those he was watching on television. Only his stakes might be
higher ... Margaret was coming along nicely, even better than he'd
hoped. But if she was going to have any respect for him at all,
he was going to have to show her who called the punches. Women
liked that, he thought, they liked to be dominated -- especially
blondes.
Margaret watched nervously and impatiently as he swung his
legs off the sofa and without haste pulled off his clothes,
tossing them to join the rest on the nearby chair. She had to
quickly draw her hand to her lips to stifle a gasp as he tugged
down his undershorts and the entire huge length of his massively
thick cock swung out into view. God, it was so big! Even bigger
than Sandor's! And so big around, nothing like the only one she
had ever seen.
"You 'vant to fuck now?" asked Margaret with saucered eyes.
Just the thought of making love again was enough to make her soar.
And with a man as handsome as Roger, she thought. A man ... her
man. He liked her; he had praised her cooking and cleaning,
hadn't he? Wasn't that what a man looked for in a good woman. A
ripple of happiness spread through her tingling body: she wouldn't
be spending the rest of her life alone after all. She had Roger.
But it bothered her the way he kept watching television instead of
whispering sweet endearments in her ear, as Sandor had done. Her
forehead furrowed and her pouty lower lip protruded as she said,
"You 'vant to make love, or not?"
Roger glared at her. "Get down on your hands and knees," he
ordered. "I want a blow job. You Scandinavians are supposed to
be good at that."
Margaret's mind reeled at the sound of those horrible words.
Where was the love? She'd done it with Sandor thousands of times,
but he had never demanded it of her. The blonde widow drew a deep
breath and forced a smile. It that's what her man wanted of her,
that's what she would do, but the tingling ache between her legs
cried for a need to be fulfilled, too. "But can't we make love
first?"
"You heard what I said. Now get down on your hands and knees
and show me what you're worth." The landlord was determined that
this step in Margaret Sorenson's total subjugation and humiliation
would not be skipped over. "Down on your knees. Now!"
Brushing her blonde hair from her eyes, Margaret obediently
crawled from the sofa and settled at Roger's feet, all the while
trying to think of a way to get Roger to make love to her instead
of what she must do. She knew he meant it; the flash in his dark
eyes promised that. He was the only man in her life now. God had
taken her first man, and now it was time for him to give her a
second. She needed him, needed a man to cook and clean for and
make love to her in return. His dangling cock, sagging from its
own immense weight, was scarcely a foot away from her face as she
struggled to hold back the hot lump in her throat, terrified and
skeptical of having another man's big white cock in her mouth ...
that same mouth that had only kissed and sucked her dear Sandor's.
Another man's cum in her throat ... it was almost too hard to
swallow.
Roger slid forward on the sofa, gauging carefully the
distance from his limply hanging prick and her wetly trembling
lips. He adjusted his hips just slightly so that the purplish
swollen head brushed her lips ever so little.
"All right, baby ... it's all yours! Do a good job and I'll
make it up to you later. Now hurry up, the A's will be back at
bat in a couple of minutes." And with that he gave her a rough
pinch deep inside her naked thigh as she knelt below him,
squeezing her soft tender flesh just an inch from the warmly moist
lips of her still-hungry pussy.
Margaret turned her face away from the enormous bulb-shaped
head and closed her eyes, hoping somehow that it would go away --
or better still, turn into Sandor's long hard prick that she knew
every ridge and vein of.
Roger spun her head back so that she was less than a scant
inch from his half-erect, dangling prick.
"Listen, sweetie, I don't wanna get rough with 'ya, but I
said to hurry up, okay? OKAY?" His tone was calm, but
threatening, and Margaret didn't want to get him angry. She'd
heard him yelling at some tenants upstairs about being late with
the rent, and had witnessed his rage as he slammed his clenched
fist into the door and sent it rocking on its hinges. With his
size and strength, she knew she would be helpless against him.
Suddenly he grew tired of waiting and grabbed her ears with
his powerful hands and twisted them upward, causing a pain so
excruciating that she thought for a moment she would black out.
She cried out for him to stop, but he ignored her pleas, keeping
one eye on the television screen and one on her. Abruptly, he
pulled her face roughly up to his naked loins, shoving his hips
forward so that the blunted end of his heavy cock pressed lewdly
against her moistly glistening lips. Once more he twisted at her
small ears and she again groaned with pain.
"Now, Margaret ... open your mouth and suck it! NOW! SUCK
IT!" he screamed above the deafening roar of fan's cheers blasting
from the television set.
Her mouth opened slightly with one more twist and her
agonized lips slowly parted as Roger gazed at the wetly open
orifice in front of his loins, then very carefully forced the
massively pulsating head into the warm moist cavern and let it lay
there twitching slightly as it grew still harder and more erect.
The young widow didn't move at all, lest the brushing of her
quivering tongue on the enormous heated shaft of flesh should
cause it to grow even larger.
"It's your choice, honey, but I will have a blow job ..."
His voice was suddenly convincingly cruel.
Margaret knew it was hopeless to resist the landlord and,
admittedly, there was a part of her that didn't want to displease
the darkly handsome man, this was something she must do or lose
him ... lose the one spark in her dreary life. And she couldn't
stand the thought, no matter how disgusting this awful degrading
act seemed. She fought back the churning ball of nausea growing
thicker by the second in her knotted, fear-wrenched belly and
closed her wetly walled lips over the throbbing fleshy staff and
eased it reluctantly with her tongue, feeling his hands loosen
their grip as she obediently complied with his harsh demands. His
powerful hands still held her, though not as painfully, but she
knew she should please him to avoid a scene. Margaret didn't like
scenes; Sandor had been such a mild-mannered, loving man. but
Roger had it in him to be brutal if he wanted to, and that scared
her. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her mind on the long
pulsing prick that loomed before her.
Roger looked down at the long thick pole of flesh protruding
from his hair-covered pelvis and throbbing ever so gently in her
warm, half-opened wet mouth, at the pursed lips stretching tightly
around the immense purplish head, and he felt a twinge of
disappointment that she hadn't protested more. Hell, it would
have done her a world of good to get kicked around a little first,
before sucking him off. Every woman worth her salt needed a good
kick in the ass once in a while, he thought. At least the women
he had out on the streets leaning against lamp posts sure as hell
needed it to let them know who the boss was.
But there wasn't time for such thoughts now, all he wanted
was to enjoy this blow job and watch the Oakland A's slam a homer
to win the series. And watching her blonde head begin to
reluctantly slide back and forth on the long, saliva-moistened
length of his prick was nothing but pure joy. Damn!
He allowed his hands to slip from her head and down over the
smooth, velvety skin of her naked shoulders, near-perfect and
silky and unblemished, deliciously warm and soft to his caressing
touch. She obviously wasn't putting her heart into sucking his
cock, so the big landlord brought his hands back up to the sides
of her head, his open palms firmly placed on either side of her
face. His grip tightened and he held her neatly positioned there
against his heatedly pulsating prick as he began a rhythmic
pumping motion with his lower body, his still-growing long prick
jutting from his pelvis and rubbing between her moistly ovalled
lips as the bulbous, lust-distended head poked against the back of
her mouth. He could feel her small white teeth grating against
the sensitive bottom side of his prick and the wetly rough surface
of her tongue as it brushed along the full length of his thickly
erect flesh, now so finely attuned to the tiniest subtle movement
of her hotly licking tongue and lips that just the very touch sent
shivers of savage animal desire into his loins.
"Yeah, baby ... that's nice, honey, real nice," he growled
softly, beginning to pump his thick, rigid cock deeper into her
throat, her warm enveloping lips sliding along its full length
with each forward plunge of his hips, and his fleshy stalk grew
harder, longer, and thicker by the second, stretching like a
rubber band until it reached enormous proportions.
He grinned to himself as the young widow did her best to take
his cock full length in her mouth, something he knew she couldn't
possibly do; as it was she swallowed, gagged, and choked each time
he gave an extra forward flick of his loins. That part he
especially enjoyed; nothing was better for a good broad than a big
cock to ream out her tonsils once in a while.
He hoped he'd found a good cock-sucker here, because there
wasn't anything on earth he liked better than a really nice blow
job, one where the broad knew her stuff, could relax her throat
muscles like she could relax her asshole, and let his cock just
slide right down that wetly smooth channel until the sides of her
throat passage sucked him dry. Yeah, ol' Margaret here was doing
all right for a Swede.
Margaret slaved over his loins, desperately trying not to
choke on the pulsing fleshy cock invading her throat; it was so
big! Each time his muscular abdomen slapped against her moistly
pursed lips, the terrible punishing thing pushed lewdly against
the back of her throat and at first, thinking she would surely be
choked to death, she had fought it back, gasping and coughing with
each of his vicious skewering thrusts. But gradually she had
found a way to relax her throat muscles and now it wasn't as bad.
He would pull it almost all the way out of her wetly clasping
mouth, out over her widely ovalled lips until the lust-swollen
head of his cock was between her teeth, and then he would begin
that dreaded instroke, that journey deep into her tender throat.
Somehow that hardened shaft managed to bend just enough when its
throbbing head rammed against the back of her gullet to go down,
lubricated with her hot saliva and the first slippery traces of
his seminal fluid oozing fitfully from the tiny opening on the end
of his prick. And every time it went down, she would have to
swallow or choke, and soon she realized that the flexing of her
own throat muscles was bringing on the inevitable torrent of hot
cum even sooner, and she viewed the climax with mixed emotions.
She wanted it over, to be rid of his pulsating rod that gagged and
choked her so painfully ... but the thought of what was coming
next, his ejaculated cum emptying down her throat like she was a
common whore! Sandor had never made her swallow it; in fact, he'd
kept a box of kleenex next to his bed for just that purpose.
Margaret tried not to swallow, but she choked immediately and
he pulled it out for a moment, rubbing its still throbbing head
over her moistly smeared lips, and she could taste the beginning
of the end as small whitish drops of his fluid oozed from the slit
end and onto her tongue. He took the blunted head between his
clenched fingers and lewdly, obscenely, painted her lips with his
warm, slightly saline discharge, leaving them glistening from his
impatiently dribbling semen. She was totally beaten now, kneeling
at his feet like a servant girl in the old country.
Roger felt the telltale twitch of his loins and could feel
the dammed-up seething flood of hot semen restlessly surging
behind the restraints of his aching balls as he slowly,
rhythmically, pumped in and out of her ovalled lips, savoring
every inch of his delicious instroke as it disappeared agonizingly
down her velvety throat channel. He wanted to feel every
screaming millimeter of his cum's long fast run from his lust-
distended balls of his prick's throbbing, blood-filled head, and
his hands squeezed in on her ears now, holding her absolutely
motionless in his strong grip while he rammed his cock down,
deeper and deeper down that tight, constrictive little throat.
Ah, here it comes, he thought, it's cumming ... it's cumming!
He could feel the hot sperm rushing out of his testicles and up
the bottom of his prick, and he stopped dead still, his madly
throbbing cock rammed all the way to his pubic hair down her
hungry throat, her head perfectly still, as he waited impatiently
for the building explosion in his loins ...
"Aaaahhhh!" he gasped anxiously, emptying his lungs as, at
that same infinitesimal second, he emptied his sperm-laden balls.
Margaret sucked voraciously, harder and harder, for as
strongly as her better reasoning had dictated, now -- tasting his
pungency for the first time -- she wanted it. She wanted every
precious drop of his hot seething flood, and she sucked at the
long quivering cock, swallowing and gulping its gushing waves of
heated thick fluid like a starving animal. Her arms spontaneously
wrapped around his hips as she knelt at his feet, pulling his
powerful loins in hard against her face and lips until every hot
swallow was safely down her eagerly working throat.
He looked down at the kneeling figure of the love-starved
widow and smiled as she finally pulled her hungrily sucking mouth
away from his pelvis, a thin sticky trail of semen dangling from
her lips and chin like a spider's web. Yes sir, she was right
where he wanted her, nothing stood in his way now, those checks
might as well be his!
But Roger had other things on his mind ... other things that
the love-starved widow would not have understood in her silent
modest humility. Things a God-fearing woman such as herself
didn't even know happened in a big city where everyone is prey to
other lethal talons.
Chapter 2
Chris O'Brien took one look at her checkbook balance and
swore. Damn! There was no way she could pay the rent and afford
bus fare too, not to mention coincidentals like laundry and an
occasional glass of wine. Then the worst realization imaginable
struck the sandy haired girl between the eyes like 40,000 watts of
voltage: there was no more money coming in until she found a job.
Thank God they were getting food stamps!
Oh God! What to do? She collapsed on the single bed that
squeeked under her slender weight and, covering her face with her
hands, she wept, her five-foot four-inch body rocking back and
forth on the Indian print bedspread. Why had she insisted on
coming to San Francisco without a job? Her uncle Frank had warned
her, her aunt Violet, her father, and her very own younger sister.
But no, Chris O'Brien was going to prove her independence
regardless of the ominous odds. So what if California already
suffered from 13% unemployment, not to mention the spate of 18-22
year old jobless, of which she was but a statistic. Chris would
prove them all overly cautious and narrow-minded. She would come
in cold, get a well-paying, creative job with travel benefits.
After all, she had a college diploma in one hand and a portfolio
brimming with talent in the other. What more could she have going
for her? Her professors at the University had encouraged her,
telling her she should try cracking into the fashion design market
out here on the West Coast. Sure, they'd said, it you want to
start a career, go to New York; but the West Coast has lots more
amenities. Now, after two months of scouring the streets, all she
could show for her efforts was a bad blister on her left heel and
an arm-long list of useless telephone numbers and contacts. And
no money.
A roar as loud as her own crying rocketed through the Geary
street apartment, the din's vibrating rattle making the stereo
groan, then skip a cut. Chris pounded an angry fist into her
knee. And this hole! It was filthy and noisy, snorted Chris.
You couldn't listen to a record album without a bus interrupting
everytime its brakes ground to a halt to repeat its never ending
route up and down Geary Street all night. But you could hardly
complain to a landlord about cockroaches and broken windows when
you still owed last month's rent and had no prospects for paying
the current month's either. You bit your lip and endured: that
was city living.
What could she do? Chris bit into her trembling lower lips
and stared blurrily at the yellow cracked wall. She might as well
call her parents collect and humiliate herself by asking them to
send her a one-way ticket back to Detroit and forget there was any
part of America west of the Mississippi River. No. That would be
giving in, sniffed Chris, wiping her nose with the back of her
hand. She'd rather work at the telephone company, God forbid,
than do that -- if they were hiring.
The twenty-two year old slim-hipped girl braced her foot on
the bed board and, out of habit, twisted to reach her cigarettes
on the night stand. With a wince and a snap of her fingers she
remembered she'd smoked the last one last night -- or had her
roommate bummed it? She couldn't remember which. Just yesterday
she'd spent her last cash on a pair of stockings she didn't like,
to wear to a job interview for a job she didn't want. Damn! she
hissed, clenching her fists. We've got to do something.
Anything!
And her roommate Sandy was no help either. God, she couldn't
keep a dollar in her pocket for five minutes without it sending up
flames. That, thought Christ pacing in front of the window, is
the whole trouble with Sandy. Drugs. Money spent uselessly on
drugs, and all it got you was a headache and another day in debt.
In school it had been no problem even though they'd roomed
together since neophyte freshman. One collect phone call to the
folks telling them you needed another easel or art book, and the
check was in the mail pronto. Now, being twenty-two and
independent, neither of the girls could expect anything in the
mail except for a good wish and a stamped, self-addressed envelope
to back home. A case of responsibility, pure and simple.
Chris put her finger to her lip and concentrated on the old
man across the street, stooping over to pick up cigarette butts
from the gutter. Where had last summer's savings gone? She
tapped her foot, mentally counting off the dollars. Rent-$70,
clothes-about $10, rock concerts ... ummm, that's where a good
share of it had gone. And dope. One pound of top grade marijuana
that she and Sandy had bought the first week in San Francisco.
"Good stuff ... safe connection ... you can sell it, keep a couple
lids for yourselves and make a killing on the rest." Right,
thought Chris with a sarcastic nod of the head. Safe investment,
huh! The dealer, some guy Sandy had picked up in the park and
brought home for an afternoon of frolic and post-hippie
lovemaking, sold them the goods and ripped them off on the same
night. Some scam!
He'd come late at night to break up the kilo and weigh out
the pound in front of the two girls. Next thing Chris remembered
she was lying on the floor from an overdose of PCP sprinkled in
the marijuana -- a drug she'd smoked occasionally while in school
--with Sandy making passionate love to the dealer on the sofa.
Chris, on hands and knees, had crawled to her bedroom, just one
doorway beyond, and listened to the grunts and groans and slurping
and slapping of flesh on naked flesh only to wake up the next
morning to find her roommate passed out on the couch and Chris'
purse laying open and empty ... and the pound of dope picked up
and carried off by the same hands that had brought it in only four
hours earlier. It was a killing all right, mused Chris with the
caustic wisdom of a victim of the city. A real lesson.
She'd blamed Sandy for it, calling her irresponsible and a
poor judge of character, that she should have been able to pick up
on the guy's vibes and known better than to buy dope from a
stranger. But then, honestly speaking, if Sandy had to pass on
her judgment of people, she wouldn't have passed kindergarten, for
Sandy was a girl who knew what she wanted on the skimpiest of
superficial levels and sacrificed anything to get it -- money,
honor. It didn't matter. If it felt good, Sandy indulged. It
was her life's principle. "Some people live by the ten
commandments," Chris remembered her best friend saying, "and I
have my fun." No one could argue the point; in a crazy sort of
way it made sense.
Even Chris couldn't argue with Sandy on that issue. The long
haired girl lit the half-burned cigarette she found among the
marijuana roaches in the seashell ashtray and lit it, feeling the
hot match warm her fingers as she thought on. No, Sandy had never
been discriminate about her college dates. If they liked loud
music, beer, and dope, they were Sandy's kind of people. Poor,
rich, white, black, yellow, red -- Sandy had had them all. And
loved it.
That must have been thought Chris pulling on the second-time-
around cigarette, why Mom and Dad were opposed to her coming along
with me out here to California in the first place. Though she was
loathe to concede the issue, her parents were right. Sandy was
getting out of hand with bringing home guys from the laundromat,
the bus stop, and the pool hall -- anywhere she could find a
willing mate who wanted to spend an afternoon in bed. And worst
of all, they would crash all night with Sandy in her bedroom and
play the stereo on full blast so that Chris couldn't get to sleep
until the east turned yellow.
But damn it, you couldn't help but love Sandy no matter how
many times she broke a promise or borrowed money. She was a true
friend, a real sister, and Chris would do anything to help her
roommate. After all, Sandy had stuck by Chris through all her
traumas and hard times, always offering everything she had to
give.
Like the time Chris's parents had decided to make a surprise
Sunday afternoon visit to their oldest daughter in college, and
Sandy had given up her afternoon to chat and play hostess to Mr.
and Mrs. O'Brien while Chris lay in frozen silence behind her
bedroom door with her boyfriend after a night of de-flowering love
making. Chris had been far too embarrassed and shame-faced guilty
to face her parents, especially with Dick haggling her for a
second time around. Hadn't Chris a debt to pay there? Return one
good turn for another? Sandy had shrugged it off, saying she
enjoyed company. True, the dark haired girl did like people.
That, succinctly, was another one of Sandy's problems. But
nobody could blame her. Everybody said she was lucky not to be
scared for life. And to think her step-father was responsible.
Chris felt a wave of nauseating guilt. She drew heavily on
the last drag of the tortured cigarette and snuffed out the filter
in the carbon-stained seashell. For some unaccountable reason
Chris sensed that she shouldn't even be thinking about Sandy's
problems ... that lurid, terrifying story had been related in
confidence, and Chris wasn't even sure she had the facts straight.
The antidepressant drugs -- stelazine and meloril -- the doctors
administered to Sandy that night in the hospital after she'd
attempted to commit suicide by threatening to jump out of a ten
story campus building because of a breaking up with her boy
friend, had triggered her memory and blurred her speech.
Chris had spent the night in the psych ward of the University
hospital holding Sandy's cold, clammy hand and listening to the
mumbled horror of a childhood nightmare. Had Sandy the courage to
relate her story without the mellowing effect of drugs to ease the
emotional and physical torture that scorched her body each time
she talked about it, Chris was certain the objective truth might
run like this:
The day that Sandy was to remember forever had dawned very
hot, and she had decided to go for a walk down by the creek to get
a bit of sunshine and daydream as twelve-year-olds do. A
physically mature girl for her years, the black haired girl had
walked with her back curved and her full young breasts jutting out
and bouncingly firmly. She'd been happy; her mother, after a year
of husbandless loneliness, had married a man at last, and Sandy
was happy to have a father.
Sandy strolled along, occasionally raising her hand to shield
her eyes against the glare of the sun. Born and raised in the
Michigan countryside, she loved the out-of-doors and especially
the creek, where as a child she used to build log dams and fish
for trout in the cool fresh water. She sauntered down to the
creek that ran through their property, down to its shady banks
where she drifted under the willow trees, feeling the coolness
like caressing fingers all over her body, and finally reached a
sheltered place she knew. It was a spot where the creek widened
out into a crystal pool that was hidden from all eyes by the
bushes and a natural embankment. Here, Sandy kicked off her shoes
and waded ankle-deep in the water, playfully kicking up a spray,
with her dress showing a flash of nakedly white thigh. Here, in
the tiny glen, Sandy felt that she was safe to do as she wanted.
It felt good being out of the house, because things hadn't
been going as smoothly as the twelve year old thought they should.
There had been much arguing between her mother and step-father,
much of it having to do with Sandy and her newly discovered social
life. Already at the approaching teenage year, she had dated once
or twice and her step-father thought she was being too loose for a
girl her age. He had made accusations which sent her mother into
tears, and Sandy had the feeling he'd been following her,
something her mother refused to believe of her new husband.
The young brunette hadn't counted on the prying eyes of her
step-father, who made his quiet way up and down the creek
embankment, and now stood looking down at Sandy tossing her thick
mane of black hair. He crouched down behind a tree on the top of
the knoll and watched Sandy sprawl in the grass and turn her face
up to the warming sun. Her face was delicate, with a slender nose
that ended in a provocative tilt. There was also a tilt to her
wide pale green eyes. Her face was delicate and feminine, right
down to her wide, fleshy mouth.
But it was her voluptuous young body that excited her step-
father and made him chew on his lips. He watched his step-
daughter from behind the tree and saw Sandy lean all her weight
back on her arms, letting her head even further back so that her
face and throat were presented to the warming sun. She raised one
leg and bent the knee. The man held his breath as he watched her
firmly white thighs. He saw her sprawled with the hem of her
dress in her lap and her legs spread as she let the knee wantonly
fall over to one side, revealing the tight white band of her
panties that so snuggly held and hid her pussy. He stared as
though mesmerized at the flimsly white panties covering the
treasure he wanted to so badly to see, then blinked and wiped
sweat from the palms of his hands by rubbing them on his pants.
Christ, his wife had one hell of a good looking daughter,
alright. A lot of style for a young girl, the way she strutted
her stuff, flashing her ripe breasts in front of the young guys.
And already she'd come home at two o'clock in the morning on two
different occasions. Hell if she wasn't out getting it!
Sandy sank back, her eyes closed, smiling slightly at the
kiss of the sun on her face and neck. It felt good! The rays
caressed her flesh and made her tingle in a drowsy kind of way. A
slight breeze blew and sent ripples of pleasure over her face and
neck. Sandy listened for a moment while lazily thinking how nice
it would feel if she were to ...
Her step father was like an Indian, freezing immediately when
he saw the girl sit up and open her eyes and look around. Slowly,
he sank back into the shade of the tree and held his breath. With
one eye, he watched Sandy glance around and cock her head as if
listening for something. Had he made a noise or did she hear
someone coming? He was sure she'd run off and was waiting for her
boy friend to show up.
No! He held his breath and felt his rapidly awakening cock
give a hard jerk in his pants as he saw her unbuttoning the front
of her dress and pull it free of her creamy shoulders and gather
it around her incredibly slender waist. His mouth went dry as he
saw her sitting with her breasts looking so full blown that they
were literally stuffed into the bra and were straining to burst
free. He watched as Sandy reached behind her with both arms. Her
breasts jutted forward and up as she worked with the clasp in the
hollow of her back. Her fingers snapped the clasp and her ripely
fleshed mounds sprang quivering free.
The step-father, George, almost yelled and his cock jerked
again so powerfully in the tight confinement of his jockey shorts
that he bent over in pain.
Jesus, Christ! His step-daughter had beautiful tits!
His mouth was as dry as sand as he looked at her two nakedly
free breasts with their tightly tensed nipples so dark and round.
He watched her breasts quiver and shake in a wantonly provocative
way; they were ripe and round with half-moons of shadow under them
as she again leaned back all her weight on her arms and let her
head loll back with her eyes closed. Her breasts were jutting up,
right at him and the older man felt he could leap up, run down,
surprise her, and grab those tits in his hands ... and massage
them ... and put his hungry mouth over those tautly teasing
nipples and bite and suck on them. He bent over again, forced to
adjust his swelling cock in his pants.
"Jesus, I'm in for a show!" He whispered the words in his
dry, caked throat as he waited for her boy friend to show up.
His hand swatted at the sweat forming on his upper lip just
as Sandy sat up again, and looked around with a dreamy expression.
He sank back further, keeping one eye on her and one hand on his
painfully tight groin.
Sandy was feeling good, very good ... and a little bold and
wicked. Supposing someone should come along? She smiled, knowing
that no one would. Only her mother was at home, and she was doing
the wash. And her step-father ... well, he was probably in town
getting drunk. After all, it was Saturday afternoon. Just as
well, her step-father had been accusing her of all sorts of
ridiculous things of late, and she'd just as soon he spent his
time on a bar stool, rather than trying to play father which he
failed so miserably at.
Satisfied, she felt safe, felt that this was her day, her
hour, that she could be safely alone and do exactly as she
pleased, that she could be free and enjoy the sun. Free! The
word hummed through her head like a song, a wantonly sensuous
song. She cupped her budding breasts with either hand, touching
them softly and intimately, her fingertips brushing across her
already distended nipples as she marveled at the way her body had
changed so dramatically in the last six months. Already the boys
at school were calling her a cock teaser because of the way she
strutted proudly. A thrill of lustful desire swept through her
body, mixing, smoking and brooding, in her groin. Her entire
young body seemed to, for a minute, throb with the hotly liquid
desire of being a ripe woman.
Sandy almost lost her balance as she felt desire ripple
through her body in increasing undulations as her fingertips
brushed back and forth across her nipples. It felt so good!
God damn! She's acting like some twenty-two year old whore!
Lust twisted his face as he watched the unsuspecting girl
gently teasing and exciting herself. He was right about her. She
was putting out for somebody! Somebody definitely was getting her
nooky! He clenched his fist and crouched low behind the tree,
preparing to charge. He couldn't stand watching any longer and,
damn, her mother never did that for him!
He was just about to go barreling down the hill as if her
were pulling off an off-tackle plunge when he froze, catching his
breath in an audible way he was afraid she heard. She was sitting
up again and using her hands to push the dress down over her
creamy-white hips. He held his breath as he watched her rocking
from one cheek of her buttocks to the other, wiggling and writhing
lazily as she brazenly slipped the bunched up dress down over her
thigh and all the way down to her knees. She sat for a moment in
her little white bikinis, feeling so drowsy in the sun.
George licked his dry lips and watched her with her naked
breasts caught between her arms, pressing her cleavage tightly
deep. Her breasts ballooned under her arms, making her nipples
more tautly tempting than ever before. His eyes greedily took in
her firmly flat stomach with its navel plainly visible as her
abdomen tautly rippled when she again leaned back on her arms and
tossed her wild black mane of hair.
Sandy basked in the gently, sensuous warmth of the sun. She
closed her eyes and felt it warming her all over. On an impulse,
she again sat up and hooked her dainty thumbs in her flimsy
panties and pulled them off, feeling a rush of cooling air on her
heat-moistened cuntal slit and in the deeply tight crevice of her
buttocks.
George felt his body quivering like a big cat ready to leap.
There she was before him, totally naked, her sensually voluptuous
body so young and firm with a rubbery kind of resilience. He
watched her breasts twin white orbs quiver elastically as she
moved, lying down and stretching out in the hot sun. He saw her
young naked loins moving enticingly as she stretched her legs.
His eyes were drawn to her groin where her firmly shaped
thighs met her nakedly tempting torso and he saw her softly parted
pubic hair that fuzzed out virginally. His eyes fastened on that
slit and he caught a glimpse of warmly pink cuntal flesh as she
lazily spread her legs. Her pulpy pussy lips were already
glistening and swelling even as he watched. His cock throbbed and
lunged once like a wild animal seeking freedom, and he gritted his
teeth hard in an effort at self control.
Sandy lolled back, closed her eyes, basking in the gently
warming rays of the sun and gradually becoming sensually aware of
her own naked body. She felt her genitals growing moist with a
throbbing itch, and her hands whispered over her ripely swelling
breasts once more, her fingers teasingly skimming back and forth.
Then she let her hands trail down, down over her contoured stomach
and over her navel to the sparse triangle of pubic hair that was
beginning to sprout there. She felt wantonly hot and she raised
one knee slightly as her fingertips skimmed down the length of her
wetly swelling slit. She felt the moist warm heat of her own
cunt, and a tiny moan of delight escaped her lips. The sun, her
hands, they felt so good!
Her fingers began tenderly probing and exploring her teased
clitoris into an erect life of its own. She felt a rippling
erotic pleasure tingle through her naked pussy under her gentle
ministrations. She felt so devilishly wicked as she allowed her
hips to jut obscenely upward while her finger slid up and down the
heated lubricated slit in an ever increasing rhythm.
A crash from up on the embankment made the young brunette sit
bolt upright, a strangled cry frozen in her throat. She didn't
have any time to move before her step-father crashed on top of her
with savagely guttural snarl. Sandy was knocked completely over,
her naked loins flashing, her young breasts bouncing. They rolled
over and over under the impact of his charge and ended up right
next to the pond, with George on top of her.
Sandy was seeing stars, and her lungs felt like they were on
fire as she gasped for breath and tried hard not to pass out. She
opened her mouth to cry out but George clamped his hand roughly
over her mouth. "Shuddup, you little bitch," he snarled. His
wild eyed face was only inches from her. She could smell beer on
his breath. He had been drinking again! His lips were twisted in
a facsimile of a grin. "You make one sound, one little peep, and
I'll beat the living shit outta you."
The words were hissed, spat out in her face and her whole
body tensed as she tried to shirk away from him. He gradually
removed his hand from her mouth, keeping one finger held up as a
warning. Slowly, he removed his weight, getting up and allowing
her to catch her breath with her breasts ripely heaving up and
down to in front of his eyes. She watched him with wide-open eyes
as he began taking off his shirt. She couldn't believe her step-
father was doing this to her! My God, he had to be insane! Or
did he really hate her that much?
He pulled off his pants and kicked them to the side. She
gave a gasp of horror as she saw the hugely obscene bulge in his
jockey shorts. His cock was so big he had trouble getting it out
of the underwear until finally it sprang free with a life of its
own. Her hand flew to her mouth as he stood nakedly menacing over
her. His cock! It was so huge! She had no idea men's cocks
could get so big. He held it lightly with one hand, sadistic grin
on his brutal face. She stared up at the lust-swollen, blood-red
mushroom head. She saw his thick white shaft with the bulging
veins and, as she watched, her heart pounding, he pulled back the
tautly tight sheath of foreskin and the flanged head ballooned
out, red and shining. "No!" she cried, her voice trembling.
"Come on, you're putting out for those young boys," he
growled. "And now you're gonna put out for me!"
"N-no! Never, n-never b-b-before!" she stammered.
"Don't give me that shit! You been staying out almost all
night with those studs. Don't tell me you ain't fucked before."
He crouched over her, his voice grating, his long massively
pulsating cock held firmly in one hand. "I'm going to fuck you to
within an inch of your life."
"No! Help! Mother!" Sandy rose up, crying out as loud as
she could. She never even saw the punch. She felt it as the
world seemed to explode right in front of her eyes; her head
snapped around and she fell backward heavily, feeling the pain
sponge deeply into her face.
George kneeled over her naked young torso, sitting on her
stomach and slapped her face back and forth with an open hand.
Sandy tried to ward off his stinging blows but found she was too
weak and stunned to have much effect. His strength was incredible
and brutally effective as he seized her wrists and bent her arms
back above her head just as his hotly wet mouth clamped over hers
and she felt his hot tongue wetly probing into her mouth.
She tried to yell, but his fiery hot tongue slid in her mouth
and lewdly lashed at her own tongue. The terrified young girl
fought for her breath as his tongue pumped lewdly and wantonly in
and out of her mouth. Despite her terror and pain, a certain
lasciviousness rippled through her body pleasurefully.
George was grunting like a madman as he pulled his cruel wet
mouth away from her bruised lips and hissed. "You make one sound,
and I swear I'll punch you silly!"
Again she tensed. She believed him; she believed he might
even kill her. He was wild, his eyes were bloodshot, his breath
reeked of stale beer, and his hands were hurting her wrists as he
squeezed them tightly to show he meant business.
George shifted his weight and looked hungrily down at her
large fleshy breasts in all their firmly erect splendor. With her
hands forced up above her head and pinned there by his grip, her
breasts were arched with her nipples right below his face. With a
savagely cruel chuckle, he lowered his hot wet mouth and clamped
his tongue and lips over one pinkly erect little nipple.
"Nnnnoooooo!" Sandy moaned, her head rolling back and forth
as she felt him first suck, then bite the nipple so hard she
winced. Despite the pain, she felt an unexpected ripple of
pleasure mix deep down in her loins ... a masochistic thrill at
being so helpless while his hungry mouth ravaged her nipple,
sucking and nibbling it into a tautly hot shape of its own.
"Oooooh, God, please stop!" she whispered, her voice hoarse,
afraid to yell. She shivered with fear as his voracious mouth
moved over to clamp on her other breasts, and she felt that second
nipple being sucked until it ached with a combination of wanton
desire and physical pain. She knew there were red teeth marks in
the hotly tender flesh of her breasts.
"N-N-noooo!" she wailed as her hateful step-father shifted
his weight on top of her, his thickly muscled chest crushing her
ravaged breasts and pushing the breath out of her tortured lungs
as he grunted, "Spread 'em, Baby! Spread your legs!"
"No! Please! I'll give you anything ... I-I won't tell
Mom." Tears welled up in the naked young brunette's eyes from the
pain and fear as she felt his heatedly pulsating cock pressing
against her stomach. It felt hard and hot and thick and huge! He
was going to tear her apart with that big obscene thing!
"Anything?" he asked between gritted teeth.
"Anything!" Tears snaked down her flushed twelve year old
face, and for a wild second she thought she might be getting out
of it.
"How about a little nookey?" His laughter was wild and
harsh.
Sandy screamed again and received another sharp blow that
almost knocked her out. Dimly, her strength ebbing, she realized
he was forcing her legs wide. She felt his powerful loins between
her legs, and then her eyes opened very wide, and she screamed in
pain as she felt the thick head massively pushing on her
virginally tight pussy lips.
"Aaaaggghhhh!"
His teeth tightly gritted, his lips twisting open wide, he
thrust with all the brute strength he possessed. He was driven
wild with the taste and smell of her. He felt the thickly blunt
end of his cock spreading her wetly cringing cunt as he bore down
hard. She whimpered and the sound caused him to thrust forward
with brutal delight.
The flanged head of his cock plopped just inside her tight,
hotly quivering little cunt with a wet tearing sound. Sandy felt
herself impaled on his heatedly pulsing cock. His massive cock
head was buried just inside of her cunt with her cuntal lips drawn
tight as rubberbands around the thick shaft. Sandy was positive
he was going to shove his massive maledom clear up into her belly
and on past, on up into her throat itself. She trembled with
abject fear, sending her cunt into an oddly pleasing quiver around
the throbbing head. She smelled his sexual heat, and felt his
huge cock like a throbbing piece of hot meat lodged in her
virginal pussy -- the treasure she had saved for the right boy.
Slowly, with a cold-blooded brutality, George began pumping
his hips, moving his rigidly thick cock like a huge piston
plunging in and out of her tender flesh.
Sandy couldn't move, and she gasped for breath and tried to
keep from screaming as she felt the lust-thickened shaft spreading
her cuntal walls until it seemed they surely were being ripped
from her clitoris to anus. She lay rigid, her cruelly violated
young body trembling in spasms of fear and guilt. Guilt! She
closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, tried not to think about
the wanton excitement she had begun feeling with each brutal,
pain-filled thrust; she couldn't help herself, and the more she
tried not to think of it, the bigger and harder his cock became
... and finally she was forced to admit to herself that she was
enjoying it!
She loved it -- all twelve childish years of her!
A sudden stab of guilt shuddered through her body as she felt
her wetly pulsating cuntal lips inched in with each wonderfully
heated thrust of her mother's husband's heated shaft. On each
withdrawal stroke she felt them clinging to his hardened shaft and
the obscenely exciting mental picture of what was happening made
searing spasms of pleasure streak through her loins and caused her
puckered little anus to tremble with delight. She was enjoying
making love to her own stepfather!
She knew she shouldn't be liking it, knew she was being
brutally raped, that she was being marked forevermore, she knew it
and felt full of fear and pain. Her pain made her sob real tears
and babble incoherently for George to stop. Her head thrashed
from side to side, and she bit her lips against the increasing
pleasure she was feeling with each deeper stroke of his hotly
rampaging cock. She fought against the itching urge in her hips
to pump them lewdly back and forth. The more she tried not to
think of it, the more she enjoyed it. She loved it!
There was something so thrilling about being so helpless
while being fucked! She shuddered and her mouth fell wantonly
open as she gave out a half-cry, half moan. The cry ended in a
deep moan, a moan as rich and deep as a cello; her father grinned
triumphantly as he saw her face and began fucking her harder and
faster.
He went crazy, fucking her insanely, his thick, wetly
glistening cock slamming mercilessly in and out of her hideously
stretched cunt, his balls slapping rhythmically against her
thrashing, softly fleshed buttocks. He fucked her with all his
might, lifting her hips up off the grassy ground and slamming her
down again, ramming all the way into her, feeling his mushroom
head slam into her young cervix deep in that velvet volcano that
was her tight little pussy.
It was as if all restraining bonds had burst inside Sandy for
she lewdly threw back her head and thrust her nakedly straining
breasts up at his face, all the while wantonly pumping her hips up
and down. She was suddenly a lewdly writhing animal, curling her
legs and arms around his hard body in an effort to take all the
cock he could offer.
Her mouth was open, her eyes closed, and she moaned with an
obscene delight as she gripped his hotly plunging shaft hard with
her cuntal muscles. She saw his eyes squint with pain and
delight. He grinned savagely at her, and then their needy mouths
locked together, step-daughter and step-father, while the girl
ground her hips up into his groin and bent her knees as much as
she could. She wanted all of him in her, every last single inch.
George gripped her with all his strength, his eyes bulging.
He was going to give her the fucking of his life, a fucking she
would never forget. He gathered his strength, his teeth gritted.
Damn, but she's tight, he thought.
He enjoyed the rubber-glove feeling of tightness he was
getting in her moistly hot little pussy. She trembled
ecstatically at his slightest movement, and he knew she was
enjoying it. He could feel the rubbery tightness in her cuntal
lips and the taut exciting way her tiny erect clitoris stood up
when his pubic hair rubbed against it. She was loving it! She
was a slut and loving every minute of it!
They fucked, their now sweating bodies locked belly-to-belly
as they writhed and undulated. He crushed her with his arms as he
gasped, "You love it, you little bitch!"
Her only reply was a low moan and her hips moved as if they
were on ball bearings as she fucked up against him with a wanton
abandonment.
"Tell me you love it!"
Again she moaned as their sweating stomachs slid one against
the other.
"Tell me!"
"I ... I ... like ..."
"Tell me!" his voice was a growl as his wetly lubricated cock
slammed like a jack hammer in and out of her tightly fitting cunt.
"I... I like it."
"Louder!"
"I like it. I like it." Her voice began to waver and rise
as she felt the fucking rhythm increase and she worked to match
thrust and thrust. She could feel his heavy balls slapping wetly
against the tightly clenched cheeks of her buttocks. Her cuntal
lubricant had seeped down into her anal crevice as she fucked him
with obscene abandon. "I lllloovveee it!!!" Her voice was low
and wanton, "I love it, fuck it, hurt me, fuck me, rape me!" She
was screaming with lust now, and it seemed his cruel hurting hands
were everywhere at once, all over her body; at her hips, her
thighs, her nipples, raking across her wildly thrashing buttocks
and splitting her ass-cheeks open while a cruel outstretched
finger stabbed at her puckered little anus!
"Fuck me, fuck me all night!" she moaned, spitting the word,
"Fuck" out with delight and feeling and obscene pleasure shudder
through her body at the forbidden word. "Fuck me!"
George closed his eyes and thought of nothing but driving it
home. They fucked, crushing the wild sweet grass beneath their
bodies, slipping and bucking across the slope until they were
splashing in the water. I'll continue to fuck her even if she
drowns! Fuck it, I ain't gonna stop now.
He fucked her as he felt her tensing beneath him and her
moaning becoming deeper and more rhythmic; it was only then that
he felt his own heated cum building in his balls to the point
where they ached.
"Aaaaagghhh!" He felt her body suddenly full of a wanton
strength as she arched up beneath him and her body began trembling
deeply. Then she was fighting him like a game fish before falling
back into helpless spasms of searing ecstasy as her first orgasm
convulsed her.
That was too much for the step-father and, with a guttural
roar, he came, pumping powerful spurts of his white-hot cum deep
into her cunt, filling her up so that it spurted out all around
his wildly jerking shaft. Then grinning, he pulled his eagerly
ejaculating cock out and let it flop on her stomach where it
continued to pump sticky white sperm onto her nakedly rippling
stomach.
She lay with her loins and stomach glistening with cum,
completely relaxed, feeling like putty, feeling tired, very tired
... and a little uncertain about her own emotions.
George rolled off her with a groan and lay catching his
breath for awhile before he got up and slowly dressed. His
clothes on, he looked down at the still naked Sandy and spat in
the water, then turned and climbed up the embankment.
Left by herself, Sandy had rolled over, sobbed, and lay still
until it was almost dark. Then she slowly got dressed, a sad and
weary young girl and went home. Two months later she realized her
afternoon encounter had left her pregnant. She'd let her mother
believe it was Curtis' fault, a young freshman boy she'd been
seeing on the sly. It caused an uproar, predictably enough, but
the reticent girl refused to tell the truth, reasoning she had
been hurt enough, there was no reason to destroy her mother's
life, too.
The baby was adopted out from the hospital -- a darling seven
pound baby girl with black hair and brown eyes. Sandy had seen
her infant through the maternity ward's glass window, but never
once did she hold her baby, never felt it squirm in her arms. For
nine months she had been holed up with nothing to do but watch her
body grow to a distended grotesque shape, and those months in
solitude had taken their toll. The thirteen year old girl made a
vow to herself on her first teenage birthday, to never, never
allow any one man to claim such a great part of her.
Any psychiatrist would say it was a natural rebellious
response to a stressful situation, that she had been far too young
to bear the burden alone with no natural father to help her
through the rough times and dreary, lonely nights.
Predictably, it had been all down hill from there, though
Chris would never have believed it possible for her girlfriend to
sink any lower into the depths of confused depravity she was
exhibiting now in her twenty-second year of life. From what
little Sandy had confessed, she'd spent most of her time hot-
rodding around town with the loose crowd in high school -- smoking
dope, drinking beer, having wild parties. Everything a young girl
should not even know about, let alone indulge in.
In college it had been the same way. Chris was the only
friend who stuck by her, sometimes out of pity, occasionally out
of unsatisfied desire to have a sister, but always out of genuine
sincere friendship for Sandy, confused and ravaged though she had
become.
Sandy's carefree, live-for-today, the hell-with-tomorrow
attitudes could be a bit disconcerting sometimes, though,
particularly when Sandy seemed to bounce from one man to the next,
from one affair to another, without a trace of scars from the
frequent, and often tempestuous breakups.
And Chris, her one and only real love experience now just a
shattered memory, still hated herself for crying softly sometimes
in the night as she remembered those wonderful times with Mark.
She hated him now, loathed his brutality and cowardice, but she
still thought of him on lonely nights when she lay there on the
other side of the door listening to her roommate making love in
low soft whispers and giggles.
Chris O'Brien stared out of the window, watching Sandy get
off the Geary Street bus, a boy right behind her. Chris witnessed
all of Sandy's feminine tricks: the flinging of her long black
mane of her hair over her shoulder, the hip-thrust stance that
could provoke the Pope himself, and the carefree style in which
she handed the stranger her telephone number as casually as if he
were asking for a donation for the Salvation Army. Oh, no,
thought Chris with a gasp of disbelief. Another night listening
to Sandy making it with another stranger ... it never ends. She
let the curtain fall from her clutching fingertips with a movement
that might have been a sigh.
Chapter 3
Chris listened apprehensively to the key turning in the lock,
waiting for her roommate to step through the door. They'd have to
discuss their money tragedy, Chris knew, and this might be the
last free moment of Sandy's man-hungry day before the telephone
started ringing and the doorbell buzzing.
"Hi, ya!" beamed Sandy, closing the door behind her handing
Chris her mail. "Here ... look." She thrust an official looking
envelope in Chris' hands. Food-stamps. First of the month. What
do you say we buy a couple of Porterhouse steaks and celebrate?
God, it seems like an eternity since we've had a real meal," she
complained, collapsing on the faded velour couch with a squeak of
the protesting springs. "Mine came too, only I got them for a
whole family."
"What?" But Sandy, you don't have a family. How did you get
$128 worth?" She waved the envelope accusingly in the air, one
hand on her levied hip.
The black-headed girl shrugged casually. "Simple, I just
told them I had a husband home sick, and this neat looking guy
told me to follow him and fill out the forms." She pulled open
her shoulderbag, and, searching for her pack of cigarettes, found
them and tore open the top and shook out two, one for each of
them.
Chris hissed through clenched teeth. "Damn it, Sandy.
That's fraud! Don't you read the newspapers?" she blurted
heatedly. "They're cleaning house down at the welfare department.
Anybody who's caught telling lies to get foodstamps is up for
fraud, and that's a federal offense."
Sandy tutted. "Oh, don't be silly Chris. How is anybody
going to find out I don't have a husband and two kids? Why don't
you look at the bright side?" The green eyed girl spread her
hands and shrugged. "We're getting $128 worth of free food and
you're complaining? It was easy: I borrowed somebody's kids in
exchange for a joint. No big deal." Her long lithe arm reached
over to the end table and long red fingertips clutched the match
book.
Chris' platform shoes made clunking sounds as she nervously
shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Oh swell. Just
don't call me up when the authorities start looking for you!"
They were riding the red line of poverty, and it was wearing on
both girl's patience.
Sandy stood up on one foot to light Chris' cigarette off of
her own smoldering one, then handed it to her grateful roommate.
That last cigarette butt just hadn't cut it.
"And what about the rent?" Chris blinked as the pungent
smoke attacked her eyes with the first heavy draw on the virgin
cigarette. "Any idea how we're going to pay that? God, do you
have any idea of how much we owe Roger as of tomorrow? She
counted it out on her fingers, letting her lit cigarette dangle
unfemininely from her lips. "$140 for last month and the same for
this month. That's $280 we have no way of earning."
Sandy's green eyes fastened on her roommate, and blinked in
downcast acquiesence. Chris was right, there was no way to avoid
that horrifying truth. Yes, they were in trouble and it was
mostly her fault. But why couldn't Chris understand that was why
she'd gone to the welfare office and lied to the social worker.
The dark haired girl drew in her breath with a desperate gasp.
The Aid to Dependent Children form she'd filled out this morning
was a lie too! What if Chris were right? What if she did get
caught for welfare fraud! Oh, Jesus! But at the time, she
thought defensively, she was certain she was doing the right
thing. And everybody did it; it was no big thing. California the
welfare state and all that jive ...
"Listen," gestured Sandy with the palm of her hand. "I'll
talk to Roger myself. I know that creep who ripped off your money
was my responsibility. I'm in the wrong ... as usual," the
emotional girl said for the thousandth time in her life, "and I'll
go down to talk to Roger. Okay?"
Chris, seeing the distraught look in her roommate's eyes,
felt instantly repentant for her emotional outburst and
accusations, though most of them remained unspoken. "I'm sorry,
Sandy," sighed Chris, sinking to her knees and grabbing her
friend's hand in hers. "I don't mean to sound like such a bitch.
It's just that I'm really disappointed in everything that's
happened to us since we've been in San Francisco. No job, no
money, no chance to go out and explore ... and no dates ... well
you've had no problems in that department, but I'm not as outgoing
as you are," she admitted with a wince. "I don't mean to get so
uptight."
Sandy stroked her friend's hair with sisterly affection.
"That's okay, Chris. I understand. But I hope it won't hurt your
feelings if I tell you that since you and Mark broke up last
spring you've been really uptight. I know what you need," grinned
Sandy with a knowing smirk. She nodded her head for emphasis.
"Yeah, that's the problem," she giggled giving her friend's head a
loving pat.
Chris stared up into her roommate's twinkling, devilishly
green eyes. The truth was written there by the hand of
experience. If anyone should know the merits of a healthy sex
life, it was Sandy -- unattestably Sandy.
"Hey, friend," soothed Sandy. "Why don't you go in and take
a good hot bath. I just brought some vanilla scented bubble bath
from this neat store that sells nothing but organic products. "
She tutted with self-recrimination. "I know I shouldn't have
spent the money," she admitted, rolling her eyes in her
flirtatious manner, and sticking out her pouty lower lip like a
child caught with his hand in the cookie jar and trying to lie his
way out of it. "But the clerk told me it had the correct PH
balance and all that ... well, I just couldn't resist. Anyway,
take a hot bath, calm down and sprinkle some of that vanilla
bubble bath in. It smells so sexy!"
"Sounds good to me," smiled Chris heading for the bathroom,
wondering how Sandy could con her into anything, marveling at her
magic touch.
With Sandy's giggle still ringing in her ears, Chris turned
on the radio and sauntered toward the bathroom and pulled off her
tee shirt and Levi's, leaving her bikini and bra on long enough to
dart to her bedroom and pull a fresh towel from her bureau drawer.
Later, as the blonde haired girl prepared to step into the
warm, sudsy bath water she had drawn, her reflection in the
cracked mirror caught her eye. On the whole she was satisfied
with what she saw. She was not as full breasted as her teasingly
voluptuous roommate, but her breasts were firm and round. Testing
the bathwater with her toe, she unsnapped her bra and pulled it
from her arms, then pulled down and kicked off her panties.
Chris stared into the mirror again, this time running her
hands over her satin-smooth skin, and bringing up both palms to
cup the rounded swells of her lushly ripening young breasts,
rolling the erectile nipples between her fingers until they were
distended and the areolas puckered up around them, the warm flush
of tumescence spreading through her -- the feeling of need, of
desire, of sexuality. She turned for a profile view. Maybe Sandy
was right: what she needed was a good long roll in the hay.
If only Mark were here, she thought temptingly, stepping into
the tepid bath tub and sighing as the warm water lapped at her
worried body. Yes, Mark, she ah-ah-ed, slipping down in the tub
'til her blonde hair floated on the vanilla bubbles. Mark had
been her steady date through most of her sophomore year in college
and into her third year, too. It had been mostly for
companionship that they spent time together studying and going to
football games; suddenly, and without their even knowing, their
innocent infatuation filled with hand-holding and necking, gave
way to desperately passionate sessions in Chris' apartment.
Chris' resistance weakened further every time until finally there
had come the inevitable loss of her virginity.
Being a virgin wasn't something she had particularly
relished, not a life-creed to be carried around on a signboard,
just something that seemed right for her. The voluptuous blonde
had never really made any plans about keeping her virginity, or
about losing it, for that matter. But when it happened, it just
happened. It was something she regretted now, not only because
her parents had come for that god-awful surprise visit the next
day, but because she hadn't anything ... or anybody ... to show
for it now.
The blonde, relishing in the feminine feel of the suds
remembered that night, that awful regrettable night. As if to
scatter those thoughts to the wind, she dipped her hand into the
suds and blew a stream of bubbles into the moist air watching them
as they popped and dissipated like time itself.
Mark. A perfect gentleman ... most of the time, mused Chris
now, feeling sexy and feminine mummified in the vanilla bubbles.
She remembered, too, the Hawaiian sarong she had worn to the
springtime fraternity party, how daring she felt knowing one pull
on that rope belt and her breasts would come tumbling free. She'd
felt devilishly sinful that night, it may have been the full moon,
she later thought. But the boilermakers -- the virgin's lethal
drink made of tasteless wood alcohol and Hawaiian punch -- had a
lot to do with it! It had tasted so good she'd had a glass,
though she seldom drank ... then another, and another.
After the dance he'd driven her home and carried her to the
door. Apparently Sandy had let him in, but she could hardly blame
her roommate for that; Mark had spent many nights in their
apartment when he didn't feel like going back to his fraternity
house room which he shared with a frat brother. Mark had slung
the door open with his shoulder and lay the lush half-conscious
body out on the soft mattress.
"Oh," she'd mumbled thickly, stirring uneasily in her
alcohol-sodden slumber. "Have I been asleep? Mark, I'm so
drunk!"
"That's okay," the broad shouldered fraternity boy replied
soothingly, not wanting her to regain full consciousness just yet.
It had been an age old tradition in the fraternity; if you can't
get your girl to make it with you after the Hawaiian dance, all
bets were off you ever would. Besides, he'd had a bet riding on
it. "You'll feel fine in the morning," he reassured.
Chris couldn't help but giggle drunkenly at the thought of
Mark playing nurse to her. But his thick strong fingers proved
agile enough as he pulled on the rope belt that held that single
piece of fabric snug to her lithe body, and slid the garment
gently over her head, revealing most of her supple tempting young
bodily curves to his avidly searching eyes.
Suddenly, Mark had become a man possessed, a maniac driven
only by his intense animal lust for her body. Nothing else
mattered to him that instant but fucking his long, painfully hard
cock into that warm hair-lined pussy no man had ever touched, that
damply glistening cleft he'd hungered for so long. She was a
woman to him now, a desirable young woman to be taken, a virgin
born for his sacrifice.
He reached for her, grabbing her roughly before she had time
to react, before she could even cry out in surprise, a deep beast-
like groan erupting from his throat as he pulled her roughly in
prone position on the bed.
"Please, Mark, please ... we can't ... w-we can't!" she
moaned piteously as he held her down with one lust-strengthened
hand and ran the other greedily over the lush contours of her
nakedly struggling body, kneading her ripe succulent breasts
cruelly with hands now beyond his control, hands that acted as if
they were possessed with a spirit beyond his own. Pinkish ridges
of her softly delicate flesh protruded between his straining
fingers as his head had dropped to the budding young nipples and
chewed hungrily at their tips until he had felt the tenderly
resilient flesh give way and the salty taste of blood seeping onto
his lashing tongue.
"Oh, no, not like this. It can't be like this!" she moaned,
more in anguish than in anger. But her plea was unheeded.
In his madness, he still held her wildly straining body
tightly to the bed, imprisoning her there by he heavy tensed chest
that weighed upon her lithe slenderness like a giant crushing
boulder. Her long blonde hair began thrashing from side to side
on the bed, her beautiful face contorted with anguish. She
pleaded until the words become nothing but incoherent mutterings
of jumbled words.
And it was then that he brutally fucked her the first time,
robbed her of her virginity in a frenzy of jungle passion gone
wild.
Ignoring the low moaning pleas, Mark rolled on top of the
violently struggling coed, catching her body just as her long,
slimly tapered legs had scissored out in one last desperate effort
to escape his brutal assault. His hips had fallen down tightly
against the mattress. The soft down of her thinly curling pubic
hair brushed teasingly against his throbbing cock, inciting him to
insane mumblings of crazed uncontrollable lust.
She felt the anguish of that night even now as she recalled
it so clearly, like slow-motion frames from an old movie as it
flashed in her brain. His knees were spreading hers wide apart,
and he was grinding his pelvis hard into her squirmingly
defenseless crotch, completely naked and vulnerable then to his
rapacious assault. She felt once again the spasmodic jerkings of
her own fleshy inner thighs as he drove his hand between them.
Mark was searching for that elusive treasure, that jewel-like
never-before-penetrated orifice between her wildly trembling legs.
And then he found it! He jammed his heatedly throbbing cock up
between her widespread legs, following the guide of his hand in
the semi-darkness of the bedroom, and then shoved his blood-filled
prick's head between her fleshy cuntal lips with a groan, he
brutally thrust it all the way forward without hesitation up into
her quivering pussy, deflowering her like a kidnapped Sabine
maiden prostrate before her barbarian captor. Chris shrieked in
agony and kicked her legs out wildly in the air in a futile
attempt to escape the cruel impalement. Her frantic movement only
worsened her plight, however, opening the depths of her unplowed
furrow to his plundering cock as it hotly rammed deeper and deeper
into her yielding cuntal flesh. At last, his pelvis smacked down
hard against hers, signaling the hoped-for end of her agony as his
rigidly beating cock slid all the way up inside her trembling
belly, the warm wet bloody walls of her cunt wrapped tightly
around the fleshy hardness like a moist warm glove.
But the aroused fraternity boy hadn't stopped there. He
didn't even give Chris a chance to adjust to the sudden unexpected
presence deep in her virginal young womb. He just began to fuck
her, thrusting in and out of her like a mongrel dog mounting a
bitch in heat, and with about that much concern for her enjoyment
and happiness. He had only thought of one thing -- to spew his
hot, thick sperm deep inside of her tight little pussy where it
belonged and where he had yearned to empty it for so long now. He
vented his lust against her torturedly groaning body time after
time, flooding her cringing belly again and again with the hot
white liquid of over a year's frustrated waiting and hoping until
finally ... his cum was gone.
And this was the boy she'd been thinking of marrying! Chris
had awakened in the night, sobbing from a nightmare she was not
convinced was real until she saw the blood smeared evidence on her
inner thighs.
Worst of all, her parents had chosen that next day to come
visit her! She'd been too ashamed to crawl out of that bed to and
greet them. And Mark, damn him! He laughed through the afternoon
thinking it extremely funny while she sobbed into her pillow.
That was the last she saw of him.
Chapter 4
Chris pulled the belt to her fleecy robe tight around her
still damp body and wrapping a towel around her sopping, freshly
shampooed hair, emerged from the bathroom to find the landlord
pacing back and forth in the living room a letter in one hand, a
cigarette in the other. On the sofa sat Sandy, pale-faced and
saucer-eyed, taking inhumanely long drags off her cigarette and
exhaling with exhausting force. The blue smoky aura around her
dark hair testified to the lengthy encounter between the renter
and rentee. A tale of woe for poverty-stricken victims of
America's unemployed. Chris heard nothing above the low roar of
the top 40 rock station except for the words 'welfare fraud' and
'eviction.' Fear froze her to the floor, her two feet two ice
cubes melted to the tray. She clenched her jaws tight. Damn!
Roger stood straight and tall, his body abuzz with the
excitement of facing a challenge most men would have cringed at.
Roger could not remember when he had come up with the idea;
probably it wasn't the sort of plan that was conceived all at
once, but rather the result of several years as being a landlord
and listening to half-hearted excuses and rationalizations for
late rent and middle-of-the-night moves. He did remember the
night he was woken up at two o'clock in the morning and,
suspecting one of his tenant's of beating up his girl friend,
broke in with his master key in time to see her flailing her hair
back and forth on a love-crumpled bed while an embarrassed middle-
aged man fucked in and out of her buttocks. In the kitchen the
tenant sat smoking marijuana and drinking beer, keeping a close
eye on the kitchen clock. A dollar a minute counts up=8Bfast!
Damn! Roger had thought at the time, I'm going through hell
trying to collect the rent, and these bastards make twice that
much in one night. Why not cash in on a piece of the action? he'd
asked himself numerous times.
Hell, at that rate he could quit driving a cab and stay at
home to make money. Legitimate money took time, especially with
taxes and insurance -- all the crap that drains your pocket for no
reason but to keep the money flowing.
The first step had been to con two Mexican girls -- lovely
pieces of ass they were -- into chaperoning a couple of
businessmen Roger had taxied to Broadway street where they wanted
a quick floor show and blow job, something their wives wouldn't
put out for. One phone call to the girls and snap! Fifty bucks
in his hand. Nobody got hurt and everybody was happy: Fifty bucks
in his hand. Nobody got hurt and everybody was happy: the
businessmen got laid, the girls got twenty-five dollars each, and
Roger the other half.
With Margaret Sorenson it had been a case of coincidence,
too, he rationalized to himself. Boy, she'd been crying her heart
out for a man since old Sandor was blown to bits by that accident.
She'd come pounding on Roger's door every day spilling out her
woes, making promises for paying the rent ... even offering to
clean his place! How could a bachelor refuse an offer like that?
Finding out about her inheritance ... well, that hadn't been quite
as accidental. He'd never thought he'd resort to steaming open
mail, but it proved worthwhile. Old Margaret was sitting on a
Goddamned nest-egg, just crying for somebody to share it with.
Couple more months and he might be a married man.
But these two girls. Whow! They were in hot water up to
their pretty virgin asses. Welfare fraud, he tutted to himself,
pivoting to see the blonde haired girl staring wild-eyed behind
him.
"Come sit down, Chris," he motioned toward the sofa. "I've
got something here you had better know about." His brown paw
waved an official looking letter in the air, gesturing for her to
sit next to her roommate.
The roommate's eyes locked for a terrified second and,
feeling the burden of the guilt, Sandy winced, wrinkling up her
perky nose and, as if to beg pardon, shook out a cigarette and
handed it to her solemn-faced roommate whose every blink of the
eye was a righteously wielded accusation of irresponsibility.
Roger, studying the nipples spiking out from the blonde
girl's robe, smiled appreciatively in a tight smirk. Yes, she
would sell well, he thought to himself, waiting for his audience
to snap alert under his threatening gaze. "To fill you in on the
facts, Chris, this is a letter from the social service department
of San Francisco ... I assume you know who they are since you've
been getting foodstamps for the past month."
Chris nodded her turbaned head.
"As landlord I was mailed this letter to ask a few questions
about your living situation. According to this xeroxed form,
Sandra ... that's you," he blinked his chocolate eyes at the dark
haired girl who cowered in the sofa, one leg hugged up to her
chest, her dimpled chin resting on her knee," ... are supposed to
be married to a Christopher O'Brien and supporting two children."
He flung the letter to the side table and feigning a glare, thrust
his hands in his pockets and resumed his pacing.
Silence fell on the room, broken only by the dull crackle of
a radio that hummed out Bob Dylan's "Dear Landlord ... put a price
on my soul." Sandy stifled an irresponsible giggle; it was almost
funny in a desperate sort of way, but Chris' elbow in her ribs put
a somber look back on her pixie face.
"So ... what do we do about it?" Sandy pouted, sighed and
tutted. "Okay," she said in a monotone voice, "... so I lied.
Now what are you going to do about it? Have me locked up? Call
my family? Good luck if you do."
Roger drew in a deep breath and rested his finger on his
lower lip. "If I wanted to get nasty about it, I could do just
that. Welfare fraud is becoming one of the most common crimes in
this city, and the taxpayers are goddamned sick of it ...
especially since all these young people are coming out here to the
West coast without jobs and sucking up all the welfare so the
people who really need it go hungry. Papers are full of cases."
Chris wriggled uncomfortably on the sofa, fearing the worst.
One glance at Roger and she knew he wasn't going to give them a
break.
"Then there's the matter of your rent being overdue," his
brown intense eyes snapped wider like shutters on springs. "Two
months now and you girls haven't paid me a dime. Legally I could
have you out of here in thirty days ..."
Chris was the first to break. She rested her head in her
hands and sobbed three times before regaining her composure.
Today had been an emotional nightmare, saying nothing about
financial. An apologetic feminine hand stroked her arm as she
squeezed out the last tear.
"Oh damn," sighed Roger, gleaming over his success. Shit!
He had them now. Get a woman in tears and she loses all
rationale. Now was the time to snap it to them; they'd be putty
in his hands, their will broken, ready to be molded to his wishes.
"... I didn't mean to make you cry, but this is a serious matter.
Christ, I can't count the number of young girls who've lived in
this building -- just out of school, away from home for the first
time, thinking they'll come out to old SF and teach the world
tricks." He shook his head negatively. "Life ain't that way,
girls. It ain't that simple."
"But ... but we've tried looking for work. Honest we have!"
Chris' ivory white forehead was wrinkled with a solemn plea for
mercy. "We've spent all the money we had on bus fare and god, I
even sacrificed my last dollar for a pair of stockings to go to a
crummy interview -- and I didn't even want the Job!" She looked
pleadingly into Sandy's tear-blurred eyes. Sandy nodded in
acquiescence.
"Really," she moaned in her flirtatiously childish manner,
the expression on her face one of a hungry orphan begging for a
bowl of rice. "It's not that we haven't tried or don't have any
brains. God, we both graduated from college and ... and I speak
Spanish and Chris speaks French." She shrugged her shoulders and
spread her hands entreatingly.
"Spanish? you say?" Ah, ha, mused Roger silently, stroking
his full mustache with glee. This was the opener. "French?"
The girls nodded simultaneously.
"Hmmm ... I might be able to help you ... that is, if you
really want a job." He continued pacing, one hand thrust into his
polyester suit pants, the other still working on his mustache,
while his brown eyes clicked off the dollar signs. The
surreptitious landlord glanced over at the rentees to see them
sitting up straight, ready to take orders. "Naw. You girls went
to college huh? What were your majors?" His eyes sparkled as
they probed every inch of feminine flesh ... two hundred a nights
worth.
"I majored in art with a double major in French, and Sandy
majored in modern dance and speaks Spanish ... she's part Spanish,
you know," the spokesman assured.
"You girls ever worked in crowds of people? I mean have you
ever been hostesses or tour guides?"
"No," answered Sandy, somewhat disconcertedly.
"But we can try!" Chris blurted.
"I ... I don't know ..." Roger made a turn at the mantle and
rested his elbow on the chipped paint and stroked his neck with
that hand. "You'd have to spend time around men ... many of them
foreigners." He smacked his lips and shook his head. "Maybe
you'd be better off trying the lunch counters down town ..."
"No, wait a minute! Tell us more about this job," implored
Chris, sitting on the edge of the sofa now, ablaze with interest,
desperate for a break. The prospect of going back to Detroit was
about as appealing as making love to an elephant.
"Okay," Roger confronted them in his military stance, arms
behind his back, legs spread. "I have some friends who own a tour
guide business downtown ... old buddies of mine from the army.
They make contact with the bus guide tours and instead of sending
everybody out in buses they take them out sometimes singly,
sometime in pairs. What they need is somebody to chaperone the
guys, somebody who can speak Spanish or French ... adds a little
class, you know."
Sandy's eyes sparkled. It was a dream come true, but Chris
looked puzzled, her face still mirroring her concern over the
money and the way her landlord kept stealing peeks down the gaping
front of her bathrobe. She yanked it shut tight.
"So what do we have to do?"
"Simple. You go out to dinner with the guys ... there will
be wives along sometimes," he admitted with a sly smirk. "You
impress the guy by ordering in another language ... that's always
worth a tip, especially from businessmen who are out to impress
some client ... then you hop a cable car and take 'em to the wharf
maybe ... out for a couple of drinks, tell 'em about the landmarks
of the city -- how Golden Gate Park used to be a sand pit, and
everything east of Market street is landfill ... you know. Little
bits like that. Mostly you just play nice to 'em and they treat
you well."
"I don't know," said Chris, biting on her lower lip
nervously. "Sounds kinda fishy to me ... almost like ... like,
well, you know." She turned to read the expression on her
roommate's face. "What do you think, Sandy?"
Marvel-eyed, Sandy shot a beaming grin at the landlord. "I
think it's great! When do we start and how much money will we
make? I'll have to get my clothes together for this!"
Roger looked a little perplexed, but at the same time he was
relieved. He knew if he could persuade Chris, he'd have it
sacked, but she was the cautious one, he noted. "What about you,
Chris. How do you feel about it? I know it's not what you
expected to do with a college diploma, but it's the best I can
offer. Besides, the foreign tourists in San Francisco have a lot
of class." He studied her unmoved expression. "Well, I know
you'd rather sit in an office for eight hours a day, but ..."
"Let me think about it," broke in the blonde haired roommate.
"I want to think this over."
Sandy wrinkled up her nose and tugged Chris' bathrobe sleeve,
her eyes on Roger as she whispered into Chris' ear: "Come on, it's
no big thing. We'd at least be able to eat and get out to see the
city." Pulling her bathrobe tight around her, and letting the
bath towel unwind with a vigorous shake of her head, Chris stalked
off to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. It seemed
cheap somehow, going out with a man you'd never seen before. Why,
it was the closest thing to prostitution she'd ever imagined
herself coming in contact with. She closed her bedroom door
behind her.
One room away, Chris could hear Sandy's throaty voice
apologizing for her roommate's abrupt response. "Don't pay any
attention to her, she's just very upset today," she heard Sandy
explain.
Roger returned: "Okay, you girls think it over and come down
to my apartment tonight and tell me what you want to do.
Remember, I still have two months rent to collect and this letter
from the foodstamp office is nothing to scoff at. It's serious
business ... could cost you both a lot of money and time behind
bars if you're not careful. I'm just trying to help you out, is
all. I've got my responsibilities too."
Sandy caught his arm before he reached out to open the door.
"Just one thing," she said hesitantly. "Does this mean we have to
go to bed with the men?" Her eyes sparkled and the landlord read
the message loud and clear.
Dropping his hand to the doorknob he rested it there and
said, "If you do, it'll earn you a bunch more, that's all I can
tell you."
When he left, closing the door behind him, Sandy leaned up
against the hardwood door, her eyes smiling for her. No use
giving away what you can charge for, she resolved and headed for
Chris' bedroom for a long, practical talk with her best friend of
four years.
Chapter 5
Roger's apartment was on the second floor in the back where
his living room window overlooked a small rose garden in the
middle of the concrete stone maze of apartment buildings and
garages. It was the only apartment with such a view, blessed in
its solitudinous location and free of traffic noise. Best of all,
it had an exceptionally large living room, good for entertaining
and business combined.
Tonight, though, he didn't need the rose garden. Tonight was
that certain lucky moment every man dreams of but seldom finds.
Christ, what a girl, what a hell of a woman!
"Mmmmm ... that's nice, honey, nice and deep," came the
hoarse whisper through the darkness. Sandy's levis, blouse and
underclothes were strewn haphazardly on the floor beside the
couch, and her long trim legs were cocked back at a forty-five
degree angle, flattened back hard against her chest, smashing the
firmly swelling mounds of her young breasts beneath her own
thighs.
Roger was half on his knees and half arched off the sofa,
supported on his feet and palms, his long pulsating hard cock
buried deep in the dark-haired girl's belly, stretching apart the
warm hungry lips of her cunt as he flexed the head of his huge
fleshy length far up in her womb.
'Oh, yes, yes," she moaned, "God, you feel so good inside of
me!"
He smiled a little to himself and tightened his loins,
jerking the heatedly bulging head of his cock deep up inside the
hot moistness of her cunt, bringing a grateful moan to her ovalled
lips. He flexed the rigidly throbbing thickness again and the
young girl gasped in pleasure as the enormous instrument probed
the previously untried depths of her cuntal passage, far up inside
her belly. Other shrill cries escaped her lips as the powerful
landlord began a slow revolving motion with his pelvis and her
hotly seeping cuntal cavern gradually became accustomed to this
thick invading prick stretching her to the limit. He pushed his
pelvis tight against her upturned, wetly-glistening pussy and
ground his cock deeply into her, expanding the still-quivering
walls until her moistly warm pussy fit his massive cock as though
it had been a custom-made glove.
Roger reached past the nakedly writhing body of the black
haired girl and yanked at the cords of the draperies, pulling them
further apart so that the room was bathed in a fine glow of
moonlight over the rose garden that outlined each one of the warm,
smoothly gleaming curves. The naked girl's translucent skin
glowed like an ivory statue of a goddess and her softly fleshed
breasts were two alabaster mounds, capped with a little brown
nipples, hard and throbbing, as Roger thrust his long, hard
manhood deep into the hungrily clasping sheath up between her
wide-spread legs. Sandy's eyes were closed, her teeth tightly
clenched, and her face distorted from the delicious torment of his
rigidly thick organ in her eager young cunt.
Afraid to believe his eyes, the landlord ran his sweating
palms over the girl's naked flesh, rubbing lewdly the moonshaped
firm cheeks of her supple buttocks as his fingers delicately
probed the hair-lined cuntal lips tightly clamped around his
impaling cock. His fingertip flicked tentatively at her tightly
puckered little anus as his hand eased between their sweat-soaked
bodies; his finger pressed painfully against the opening, then
suddenly popped through the tiny nether ring and wormed deeply up
into the soft rubbery flesh inside her rectum. It moved around,
expanding the small hole until the palm of his hand lay flattened
against her yielding ass-cheeks, his whole middle finger sunk all
the way up inside the forbidden little tunnel.
Roger simply couldn't believe his luck. This was just too
much for any man! Just an hour ago, he'd been sitting quietly,
sipping his bourbon and water, cautiously laying out the details
of his plan for those two girls up on the thirteenth floor ... and
now this! Damn, he'd had his share of women, but never a hot
little bitch like this one. Christ, she'd practically torn his
pants off trying to get at his cock, licking it, nibbling at it as
though it were food and she'd been starving for a week! And now,
hell, she was hotter than a firecracker on the fourth of July.
He began a hard rhythmic fucking motion in and out of Sandy's
moistly stretched pussy, thrusting forward mercilessly from his
arched backstroke and battering her writhing body back hard
against the sofa cushions, all the while continuing the relentless
plundering of her anus with his rigid finger, slowly pistoning it
in rhythm with long, skewering thrust of his lust-distended cock,
bringing loud sobbing gasps from her half-opened lips in time with
agonizing tempo of his finger and his cock fucking her at once.
He could feel the hardness of his cock through the thin fleshy
membrane between her cuntal and anal channel as he rammed into her
again and again; his finger, plundering her hopelessly stretched
little asshole, rubbed along the whole throbbing length of his
prick as it wetly slithered deep into her cunt.
Sandy was enjoying every delicious second of it -- through a
series of unusual circumstances, she'd been without a man for two
days now, and nothing on earth could have felt better than this,
the blood-boiling ecstasy of a long, hard male cock fucked deep
into her craving young belly. That was the way she liked it, and
the harder and bigger it was, the better. Being fucked by a man
like this was always brought out those suppressed masochistic
urges she kept hidden in everyday life and lying flat on her back
like this, absolutely naked and helpless, she could let those
shameful desires and passions run rampant through her writhing
body, could pull her knees back tight against her breasts and
savor wondrously the deep, burrowing thrusts of a man's cock far
up inside her moistly heated cuntal passage. Roger was very well-
hung, and she liked that most of all in a man, and now, nothing
else mattered! ...
One floor above, someone was thinking identical thoughts.
Margaret Sorenson plumped up her feather pillow for the fourth
time that night and peeled up the afghan that sat folded at the
foot of her man-empty bed. Already she'd taken one Sominex, and
it had done nothing but depress her and make her feet tingle with
a strange, drugged sensation. And it was late, the clock warned,
as she finally sat up in bed and flicked on the night lamp beside
her bed, standing next to the photograph of Sandor.
With a groan of self-loathing, she lovingly picked up the
metal framed photograph of her deceased husband. He stood on a
pier, a huge oceanliner behind him; it was taken in 1968 when she
and Sandor got off the boat to face their destiny in America. How
happy and vibrant he looked! Margaret blinked back the tears, bit
into her lip and put it back to its bedside grave.
What would dear, wonderful Sandor think if he knew that at
that very moment she lay in bed lonely and anguished ... for the
want of another man! A man who had given her his love with
promises for more, and then carefully avoided her.
She wailed, covering her face with her hands, a wave of
remorse washing over her as she struggled to keep from going to
Roger's door and pounding angry fists against it. Where was the
love she needed so badly? She'd done everything she could to
please him -- cooked for him, cleaned for him, and ... and oh my
God, he realized she'd done that too. She'd had oral love with
him.
No! Her Swedish pride screamed a shaking finger at her. She
couldn't go down there and embarrass herself in front of him. But
damn! Roger was all she had now, and she couldn't stand to lose
him too. Instead, she would take another sleeping pill, count
sheep, and cry herself to sleep. But never, never would she
humiliate herself in front of him.
The pill sipped easily down her throat and she turned off the
lights ...
One floor below, Sandy's hips were moving with a savage
rhythm now, grinding up against her landlord's hairy loins with
increasing speed as he stepped up the dual pace of his cock and
finger ravaging both hot hungry holes down there between her
quivering legs.
"Yes, yes, Goddamn it yes! Fuck me, oh, shit, yes. Fuck me,
darling!" she cried, squirming her body lewdly around beneath
Roger's pelvis, knocking the sofa cushions askew in her mindless
passion.
The wanton young girl opened her eyes ... she could see the
clear unmistakable silhouette of a man hovering over her, but the
face was a blank shadow. She raised her neck slightly, looking
down between her upturned thighs and saw the long, glistening
shaft of his hardened cock sliding easily in and out of her wildly
quivering cunt. A cold chill raced along her spine as he thrust
his hips forward, driving the thick gleaming pole up into the hot
wetness of her tightly clasping tunnel. It didn't matter that his
face was invisible; in fact, it almost seemed right ... she needed
a man, any man, his face was of no importance. What she needed --
what she yearned for -- was buried deliciously now up between her
smooth bare thighs.
The ecstasy soon reached a bone-shattering peak. "Oh, God,
yes, don't stop! Fuck me like this forever, baby! Don't stop!
Yes, oh yes, fuck me!" She grunted her words into the chill
darkness, grinding her naked young ass up against him faster and
faster, trying to keep up with the monstrous pole of hot flesh
that was skewering her like a heavy hunk of meat, pounding its
long way deeper and deeper up into her belly with a frantic,
animal tempo.
It was impossible to keep up the heated pace any longer; she
felt too goddamned good. Roger could not hold back another
second, and he took one lustful look at the abandonedly writhing
young brunette pinned helplessly beneath the weight of his body
and began fast, pushing thrusts that buried his powerfully
pulsating prick right up to the pubic hairs on his pelvis with
each and every deep, skewering lunge. Faster and faster he
pounded, far up into her hot raging little belly, every muscle
tensed, sweat dripping from his chest and thighs, faster, harder,
deeper ...
"No, no, please! Wait! Please wait just a little longer
...!" Sandy cried, as she realized he was about to cum. But it
was too late, for Roger's lips parted and a long low groan of
relief escaped as his sperm-swollen balls heatedly pumped spurt
after spurt of white hot cum deep into her quivering cunt. The
brunette girl ground her frantically writhing loins up tightly
against his pelvis in a futile attempt to halt the warm flow, but
she was betrayed by her own eager cunt which hungrily milked his
jerking cock, until every last drop of his viscous load was
sloshing deep up inside her passion distended womb.
Roger pulled himself off the still squirming girl, his cock
slithering wetly from her heated depths as the thickly bearded
pink lips of her cunt reluctantly released their prize. A thin
string of white stickiness hung momentarily from the tip of his
limply dangling cock before it fell onto her smooth unblemished
thighs.
Sandy lay quietly, at least as quietly as she could
considering the sexual turmoil churning in her loins, as Roger
stretched out beside her, his prick lying uselessly between his
wide-spread thighs. Her full young breasts rose and fell rapidly
as she gasped for breath to fill her passion-emptied lungs and
still the flames of undiluted passion raging uncontrollably in her
cunt -- a scorching inferno of unfulfilled animal desires that
still painfully awaited relief. Without any conscious effort, as
if in a dream and she was alone with no one to witness her
shamefulness, her own hands began to ease slowly along the flat
expanse of her belly, drawn as if by magic to the fluffy little
vee between her thighs. The fingertips of both hands brushed
lightly over the puffy hot lips of her wetly hungry crevice, and a
jolt of excitement shot through her torso as she began caressing
the incredibly sensitive folds. One outstretched slender finger
slipped inside the sperm soaked opening as if it had a mind of its
own, and she could feel the softly moist walls close involuntarily
around the invader, hungrily gasping at anything to fill the
painful void.
She jerked her hand away quickly as she felt the sofa move
ever so slightly; and she saw Roger kneeling at the other end,
still completely naked, his long penis clutched between the
clenched fingers of his left hand like some menacing weapon at the
ready. Above her like that in the nearly blackened room, he
towered over her like some medieval giant. She couldn't take her
eyes off his rubbery cock, and he watched her, pleased with
himself, as she kept her attention focused on the fleshy pole
dangling from his wet, hair-covered loins. As she stared,
mesmerized, it began to swell, only a little at first, in a tiny
quivering crawl, then more, in pulsating movements of new growth
as the momentum of desire grew stronger within him.
"You don't have to play with yourself, baby. I've got all
the cock you can handle," he lewdly grinned. "Now turn over like
a good little girl, and I'll show you what I mean ..."
Sandy rolled over obediently on the couch, smearing the
sticky trail of sperm from her thighs onto the sofa cushions. She
lay quietly on her stomach, waiting for him to tell her what to
do; she knew men like to give the orders, and she didn't mind
obeying, particularly if it meant another taste of that
magnificent penis. Anyway, she'd always liked it dog-fashion from
behind; on her knees the penetration seemed even deeper, and that
was perfect as far as she was concerned ...
Twenty minutes had passed in that lonely, rucked up bed with
only Margaret's mature body messing it up with tossing and
turning. Her mind was like a movie camera, clicking off mental
images of herself with Roger last night. Oh, what she wouldn't
give for an instant replay of that wonderful, wonderful cock of
his in her hungry mouth. It had felt so good. She'd give
anything to have it there right now!
Why not? her tranquilized mind asked. Why not go down there,
knock on his door and offer her mouth for his pleasure. The
Swedish pride melted with hot desire. Yes, yes, damn it, she
would do just that. All he could do was refuse, and she believed,
needed to believe that Roger would never refuse her. He was her
man.
She slipped out of bed, pulled her robe over her floor length
nightgown and ran a comb through her hair and, opening the window,
for a breath of fresh air, drew in a deep breath for courage, and
left the door slightly ajar after her ...
"Now kneel," Roger commanded, grabbing impatiently at her
hips and helping her to her knees. She rested panting for a
moment on all fours, her firmly rounded young buttocks shoved high
and vulnerable in the air, waving temptingly before him like a
flag before a maddened bull. In the dim light, he could see that
the moistly pouting little lips of her pussy were puckered in
invitation as she leaned forward, resting her head on the opposite
arm of the sofa, her softly fleshed little ass jutting up at him
completely unguarded and available to use as he wished. Sandy's
reddened eyes were glazed with the ravishment her body had
endured, and her pulse quickened at the thrilling prospect of this
man's steel-hard cock imbedded once again deeply inside the
hungrily quivering walls of her pussy.
Suddenly, her dream-like anticipation was shattered as she
felt the insistent probing of Roger's fully erect cock at her
backside ... not at the moist, eagerly waiting lips of her cunt,
but at her anus!
Uncertain, she waved the trembling half-moons of her roundly
fleshed buttocks back at him, feeling the blunt, swollen head of
his cock pushing in against the tiny puckered hole of her rectum.
"Roger, darling, not there, please," she pleaded, not knowing
of her landlord's fetish. "You're too big. You'll split me in
half!"
There was no answer from Roger, but in the fleeting instant
before the searing pain blanked her thoughts completely, she was
certain she heard a muffled chuckle from somewhere behind her.
His only other response was immediate and to the point ... with a
grunt, he shoved his powerful loins forward increasing the already
intolerable pressure against the tightly clenched little rectum.
Abruptly, without warning, the anal ring bent inward -- hot
hotly throbbing thick pole invaded her tiny rear passage in one
vicious lunge and almost a half of the long rigid length of his
cock disappeared up into her hideously stretched anal mouth.
Sandy attempted to crawl forward, yelling in surprise and
agony, "Awwwww, please! You're hurting me! It hurts, pull it
out. Please, Roger, Please!''
"No, baby, I'm not going to take it out ... but you've got
the tightest asshole I've ever felt." He laughed lewdly and
grabbed the fleshy rims of her hips like a couple of handles and
forced her frantically thrashing buttocks back against him with
all his strength, gasping in pain himself as his massive staff
sank to the hilt in the warm anal passage. His balls swung
forward and slapped against her dripping wet pussy, brushing ever
so gently against the sensitive ragged lips just below the
obscenely-stretched rim of her rectal lips, where his pole-thick
cock was plundering her mercilessly.
He gripped her so tightly that the tortured girl was unable
to jerk away from this incredible agony. It was as if the blunt
end of the softball bat had been somehow rammed up between her
open buttocks, shoved far up inside her belly until her stomach
tightened with nausea from the excruciating pain ...
With her ear to the door and her knuckles white from
knocking, Margaret Sorenson clutched at her bathrobe with the
other hand, her mind reeling with confusion and a drug-induced
stupor. He was in there, she insistently reasoned, but he wasn't
answering the door. Maybe he had fallen asleep in front of the
television set, she hoped, grasping at air. She didn't, couldn't
believe that he wouldn't let her in if he were at home. No, that
would be too painful to believe. Margaret set the door arattle
with one final knock, before padding down the hall in her fleecy
slippers, her head downcast and her spirits plundered. She took
the carpeted stairway -- faded and worn through to the burlap
lining, half dragging herself up the stairs to her apartment and
there opened the window and slipped out to the fire escape.
Roger's living room window was accessible from the fire escape,
she knew from past experience.
The metal was cold on her feet, even through her slippers.
Carefully, she guided her hand along the icy railing and descended
down one flight of barred steps that cut into he tender feet. As
she neared Roger's living room window she could plainly hear
moaning sounds. Yes! He was watching television. Her spirits
soared until she was close enough to peak in. The she saw it --
graphically.
"Oh, please, please, Roger, pull it out! I can't take it any
more ... please, I'll do anything you ask. I'll suck your cock,
do anything, please, but not this, I'm splitting apart!"
The words sunk into Margaret's consciousness like a
brandished sword. Closing her eyes against the tear-inciting
sight, she watched as Roger, her man, fucked a young girl in the
buttocks. A clammy hand flew to Margaret's mouth and she stood on
the fire escape reeling, holding onto the railing for fear of
loosing her balance. The emotional pain seared her heart, and a
growing ball of nausea swept over her body, warming her stomach,
then her throat. When it hit her, she couldn't hold back.
Bracing her arms on the lifeless railing, she let the sorrows, the
loss, and the agonies of a lost love spill over the railing to the
empty streets below. A figure in the night, she pulled herself up
to the third floor where her lace curtains danced in the window,
inviting her to her self-chosen solitude.
Tomorrow she would think about what she had seen. Tonight
she must rest. Margaret put her robe to rest on the bedpost and
slipped into the cold sheets, then picked up the picture of Sandor
and kissed it before turning off the light ...
Down below the lewd vignette continued. Roger was deaf to
Sandy's pleas, his eyes were wide with astonished disbelief as he
watched his thick white cock slide back and forth, first back
until just the swollen tip alone remained between the tightly
stretched band of her anus, then forward again, inch by throbbing
inch, until all of his long hard shaft was nestled deep inside her
hotly constrictive hole. The feeling was incredible! It was as
if a warm hand covered in soft brown velvet had grabbed his
throbbing penis and was pulling it far up inside the helpless
girl's belly.
Like a man possessed, he rammed his rock hard rod of flesh
home harder and harder, pushing aside the tender pink walls of her
rectum as he shoved his massive cock as far as it could go up into
her heatedly quivering belly. As if torn by demons, he plowed
into her backside again and again, his whole body trembling with
the fury of his unnatural lust.
But for Sandy, something weird and wonderful was happening, a
change was taking place that was transforming this barbarous act
from excruciating pain into a wildly exciting delicious pleasure.
Slowly, her pain and fear were being replaced with the
overwhelming feeling of total and absolute subjugation, total
ravishment at the hands of this near-stranger. The mental picture
of her quivering young buttocks being so ruthlessly plundered
incited spasm of forbidden pleasure throughout her nakedly
writhing body. The unanswered hunger in her belly began to rage
out of control again, and she started to undulate her buttocks in
tiny teasing circles, squeezing with her strong rectal muscles at
the impaling shaft imbedded so hotly inside her, milking eagerly
at the long fleshy cock savagely boring into her from behind. She
wanted to drain it, to fill her heretofore virginal little anal
orifice with this man's seething load, to feel his hot sticky
flood fill her rectum until cum ran in torrents down her sweat-
soaked thighs. She had never been sodomized like this before;
always, somehow, she had been able to talk her way out of it,
whenever one of her lovers had suggested it.
Tonight, though, she had regretted ever having had second
thoughts in the past, for she was wallowing in the wild intensity
of this delicious pleasure-pain, savoring every second of the
delectable torment he was inflicting on her ravaged back passage.
The writhing young girl tightly clenched her buttocks,
intensifying the masochistic thrill that had taken control of her
body.
Nothing mattered now except this, nothing but this long hard
pole of masculine flesh that was bringing her such incredibly
wanton ecstasy. God, she wanted its hot load inside her! She
wanted to feel its scalding warmth flooding her very intestines
with an unending torrent of life-giving sperm until it sloshed in
her belly and ran through every pore of her naked body in gushing
rivers of wicked pleasure.
And an instant later, Sandy's erotic fantasies were fulfilled
as Roger suddenly let out a loud grunt and his enormous cock
rammed far, far up into her ravaged rectum. Almost immediately,
she felt the awesome wave of her own orgasm, so long in coming,
sweep over her, bringing an anguished moan to her lips.
"Aaaaggghhhh, God, yes! Aaawww!" she wailed loudly, her
savage moans filling the darkened room and reverberating from the
walls as, suddenly, his wildly jerking penis grew even larger and
began spewing its white hot load deep up into her hungrily
clasping back passage. His cum ricocheted heatedly around inside
and spurted from the ravenously sucking hole to stream in a thick
white river down the young brunette's firmly trembling thighs,
soaking his own balls as they slammed tightly in the sopping wet
crevice beneath her wide-stretched anus. The oozing liquid flowed
warmly down over his leathery testicles as they continued to
lightly brush against the glistening lips of her pussy. Violent
shudders of excitement ran through her naked body as her orgasm
built, crested and intensified.
"Aieeee ... I'm cumming," she shrieked. "Oh, God,. fuck
harder, I'm cumming!"
Sandy screwed her buttocks tightly back against the still
spewing cock buried deep in her flooded rectum and abruptly, as a
loud scream burst from between her clenched teeth, she felt her
whole body explode with the pricks of a million red-hot needles as
his last punishing thrust took her up, up, and over the brink into
a chasm of complete ecstatic pleasure. Her strength was suddenly
gone, and she fell forward on the sofa as his long glistening cock
slipped with a lewd wet sucking sound from the fist-like, grip of
her tightly clinging rectal walls. She shivered once more as the
cool air swirled around and up inside her unplugged, still dilated
opening, chilling her very insides with the cold blast.
Roger weakly collapsed on the floor beside the sofa with a
gasping moan that seemed more of relief than of pain, amazed that
his body had not come to pieces and exploded from the fury of the
last few minutes. He lay very still beside her, his hand resting
on her nakedly trembling thigh as she heaved and gasped for
breath, and for a long while, there were silent.
* * *
"It's damned good, money, sugar," said Roger, dressed now
except for a shirt. Sandy was lying on her naked back smoking a
cigarette, pondering the amenities of Roger's proposed career for
she and Chris. She looked totally refreshed and renewed, like an
entirely new person, glowing with the special radiance that comes
to a woman when she's been really and truly satisfied by a man.
And satisfied she was, not remembering when she'd enjoyed a fuck
since she was twelve ... but no, her mind protested. She
shouldn't think about that.
Roger played with one taut nipple. "Baby, we could make a
fortune. Hell, it's not prostitution anyways. It's going out on
dates, that's all. With my connections and your ass, we could
make a couple thou' a month. And you won't have to rely on
foodstamps," he laughed.
"Sounds good to me," smiled Sandy. "But you're going to have
a hard time convincing Chris. Chris has always followed the
straight and narrow, but don't get me wrong," she immediately
filled in. "Chris is a great girl, my best friend and I don't
want to lead her into anything that she'll regret later."
"Simple enough. We put her up with the mild ones until she
gets used to it. Then we'll turn her on to something that'll make
her want a little more ... if you know what I mean."
Sandy didn't reply, just stared at the lit end of her
smouldering cigarette. "Okay," she grinned in her impish way.
"I'll talk to Chris tomorrow. But let me tell you this. She's
always stuck by me and I don't want to see her hurt."
"No sweat," reassured Roger with a tweak of her right nipple.
Eleven stories above, Chris O'brien lay in her bed, trying to
sleep despite the deafening din of the buses and traffic outside
of her bedroom window. Minutes later she sat upright in bed,
hearing the familiar midnight sound of Sandy turning her key in
the lock and listening to the footsteps shuffle in the direction
of her bedroom, turned on the bedside lamp in time to see Sandy
emerge through her door.
"We're going to be out of debt in no time," giggled Sandy,
collapsing on her roommate's bed. "And we start tomorrow night!"
Chapter 6
Chris O'Brien took a glance around her, the plush red velvet
draperies, the crystal chandelier casting glimmers of light over
the potted palms in the corners of the restaurants ... and
wondered why she had been so reluctant to give up a night alone in
her dumpy apartment for a French meal at Fisherman's Wharf
overlooking the San Francisco Bay.
She glanced around the restaurant again. The lights were
low, the atmosphere hushed. Waiters moved across the deep carpet
as quietly as cats. And Francois, her date for the evening, with
his lean, handsome face, his classic features, the touch of gray
at his temples that made him look even more distinguished than his
accent could attest to. He'd sat opposite of her, choosing the
perfect wine to go with the perfect meal he would select. Yes,
Chris thought, there was no reason for her being so afraid when
he'd come to the door.
She would try to act the lady, conversing fluently in French
with this mysteriously good-looking gentleman, and remember her
etiquette, squeezing her lemon with the prongs of the fork,
dipping the soup spoon away instead of towards you ... those tiny,
yet consequential vignettes of cuisine that separated the more
sophisticated from the lesser. And when the Chateaubriand for two
would be served, she would not stuff herself, though it had been
two weeks since she'd anything as delectable as a piece of piping
hot meat steaming in front of her.
Between sips of her Fuisse Pouissy, Chris and Francois stared
out over the blackened night, watching the ships slip by announced
only by the low throaty moan of the fog horn. He'd been in
merchant marine at one time, he told her through his mellifluously
enunciated accent, and since then had made yearly trips back to
the old sea port by the bay where he's spent many a memorable
evening parading up and down Broadway Street, watching the pimps,
the barkers, and the prostitutes.
He asked about her background; the obvious questions a man
who's paid for an evening of womanly companionship wants to know.
Had she traveled? Had she gone to school? And through it all, he
hadn't pried, hadn't insinuated or demanded.
Even when he walked her to her door, he had remained a
perfect gentleman, kissing her hand delicately and wishing her a
good evening's rest. Chris went to bed that evening of a full
stomach and a prayer in her heart for Sandy. Sandy, maybe this
once I misjudged you. A free meal and a few drinks, and I'll be
out of this mess you got us into. Yes, maybe for once you were
right, Sandy.
* * *
Stories below, Margaret Sorenson completed her nightly ritual
of watching Johnie Carson on television while sipping a small
glass of sherry. On the kitchen table sat two place settings;
only one of them used. Roger had not shown up for dinner, despite
the note of invitation she'd tacked to his door. When she had
gone down to investigate at eight o'clock, just as she'd taken the
roast out of the oven for the second time, she'd heard the
unmistakable grunts and groans of lovemaking.
Roger was cheating on her again, she sniffed, blinking back a
tear. Didn't it matter she loved him? Didn't he care after all
she'd done for him? And the pain to think she'd let him take
advantage of her like that ... forcing her to use her mouth on him
like some common whore.
Well, let him have his whores, his fast women who had to sell
their bodies to stay alive. At least she still had her dignity,
she resolved, getting up to switch off the television set and
turning off the light, her apple cheeks reddened, partly from the
sherry, and partly from the fury of her emotions.
Margaret Sorenson was a proud woman. No landlord could take
advantage of her like that and get away with it. She would have
her revenge. Time was on her side.
Chapter 7
The stereo ground out an old Beatle's tune, slowing now and
then with the power failures typical of poorly wired urban
apartment buildings. It may have been two high school girls
dressing for their first dates, judging from the excitement and
expectations, matching lipstick and nail polish, changing
stockings and shoes.
"... It all went well last night then?" asked Sandy,
stroking the hair brush through her long, thick locks.
"Perfect. Just perfect! In fact," confessed Chris poking an
earring through her pierced ear, "he was a real doll. Very mature
and dignified and he didn't even try to kiss me! God, maybe I
have bad breath or something," she chuckled, never loosing sight
of her profile in the dressing mirror.
"That could almost get to be a drag," mused Sandy, with
raised eyebrows. "That has never happened to me, so I wouldn't
know. "
Chris snapped the earring shut. "Tell me about it, Sandy."
she said light-heartedly, but with a sting of sarcasm.
"Come on. I can't help it if I like to make love. It's the
neatest thing in the world. Can you think of anything that feels
any better?"
Chris laughed. "Its been so long I couldn't say ..."
Sandy turned from her girlfriend and searched through her big
leather bag until she found the foil-wrapped packet she had
stashed there for emergencies. Actually, it was Roger's idea, but
she had to agree it was a good one. "Chris, come on, this will
get you in a party mood."
Chris looked up, saw that Sandy was holding a lighted
cigarette in her hand. She held the lighted stick of marijuana in
offering and Chris accepted it, though reluctantly. Too many
times she'd let herself loose control while stoned; it was a vice
she had grown wary of.
"I'm no sure ..."
"Don't be such a prude!" chided Sandy, taking a deep puff
herself. "Here, smoke a little. C'mon." She held the hand-
rolled cigarette to Chris's lips; first the blonde turned away,
but then when it was obvious that Sandy would persist, she
reluctantly took one tiny puff. A tingle of warmth followed the
sweet-smelling smoke down her throat and along the nerve channels
of her body; just the one puff was enough to bring a wave of
relaxation to her excited body. She felt her mind loosen as if
obeying some secret command; another, deeper drag followed, then
still another ...
Soon, in minutes, or in hours, they had finished the joint
and Sandy had produced another from her tin foil packet. Chris
didn't hesitate this time; the nerve-soothing drug seemed to
answer a deep inner need, and the inbred instinct to resist it had
been destroyed.
"There, you feel more like partyin' now without getting goose
bumps?" Sandy asked her shy friend.
Chris nodded. "Yes, thanks. I feel a lot ... a lot better
now." Her words were beginning to blur together, and she
hesitated at places that needed no pause.
"Now about tonight. We're getting paid one hundred dollars
each since this is a private party that Roger is giving for some
business friends. Is that cool with you?" asked the brunette
watching her friends eyes sparkle with dollar signs.
"That sounds okay to me!" burst Sandy, stepping into her
platform shoes. She always waited 'til the last minute to put
them on out of consideration for the neighbors below who had to
listen to the heavy clump, clump of her wooden heels. Bending
over to secure the straps and buckle the tiny metal fastener at
her slim ankle, Chris lost her balance and fell on her buttocks,
with a groan.
Sandy looked down at her stoned friend. "For god's sakes,
Chris, get your act together. We're supposed to be calm and
sophisticated debutantes, remember? Not a couple of burned out
hippies."
"All right, all right," snapped Chris defensively before
bursting into giggles.
Sandy headed toward the living room and called over her
shoulder to Chris, still in her bedroom. "Why don't you make
yourself a cup of coffee! I'm going down to see if everything is
cool with Roger." The door slammed behind her and Chris, kicking
off her uncomfortable shoes, padded in her level bare feet to the
kitchen.
"Roger!" Sandy knocked on the door and was greeted on the
second knock, but she didn't step in; there wasn't time.
"Howdy, Sandy. Everything set?"
"Just like you said. A few pulls on the grass and she's
ready for anything. Grass does that to her." Sandy leaned
against the door jam and stared at a scrawled note that lay on the
doormat. Stooping over, she picked it up and handed it to Roger.
"Looks like this is for you. Must have blown off the door."
"Thanks," said the landlord, scanning the pencil-written
note. His eyes narrowed disconcertedly, a gesture Sandy did not
fail to notice.
"What's the matter? Somebody's tub overflow?" she giggled.
"Naw. It's from Margaret ... she lives upstairs from me.
Christ, I wish she would stop nagging me. Goddamn women, can't
leave me alone," he chuckled egocentrically. "Ah," he sneered.
"She's just a dumb immigrant from the old country," he said,
mimicking Margaret's Swedish accent.
"Anyway, I came down to see if everything's okay. I'm sure I
can handle those friends of yours, but I'm not too sure about
Chris. She's pretty shy, you know."
"Just keep gettin' her loaded. She'll be okay."
He kissed her on the forehead and she sauntered down the
musty smelling hallway, passing by door after door, hearing
muffled sounds of the evening news, mixed with low conversation
and the heady smell of dinner wafting out from under closed doors.
Sandy had one hand on the railing when something behind her made
her jump.
Appearing from nowhere -- she had to be hiding in the hall to
go unnoticed -- Sandy spied a blonde haired woman, mature and
buxom in her tight fitting cotton dress. Smiling, Sandy turned to
greet her, to say hello, but the woman stiffened and brushed on
by, her mouth turned down in a hateful grimace at the sight of the
young black haired girl who'd replaced her in Roger's life.
Margaret's low-heeled shoes pounded rhythmically on the
threadbare carpeting of the steps, then silenced as she reached
the hallway above and charged for the quiet of her modest
apartment. The tears she's struggled to hold within burst free
and she collapsed on her bed.
She'd heard it all. So that's what Roger thought of her? A
stupid Swede from the old country. Margaret took one loving
glance at Sandor's photograph and plotted her revenge. And, she
the goods on him, she mused with a sudden taste for retaliation.
In the last three days that she'd been following him, she learned
enough about him to make a complaint to somebody. Who, she wasn't
certain of, but there had to be laws against pandering women and
reading other people's mail as she'd seen him do through the
window of his living room where she'd stood on the fire escape.
Chapter 8
Chris' mouth just sort of hung open for a minute as she
mindlessly climbed the last of the carpeted steps and walked into
Roger's apartment where the blaring sounds of music could be
heard, along with the wafting smell of sweet-smelling hashish
being burned in a pipe. "You didn't say anything about dope,
Sandy. You know what happens to me when I get stoned. I loose
control and do things I shouldn't. I don't want these men to
think I'm a common whore."
Suddenly there was a tall, well dressed Spanish-looking man
standing before her, looking very grim at first, but quickly
smiling warmly. "Hello, I'm Jose. You must be Chris."
"Yes ... uh, how do you do?" she managed weakly.
Before either of them could speak again, there was a loud
booming bass-drum of a voice from inside. "Bring 'em on in, Jose!
The party's on in here!" They were quickly hustled to the living
room in the back where Roger had replaced the normal lightbulbs
for red ones. Chris was astonished to see that she and Sandy were
the only women at the party. In the living room several men --
she couldn't count -- sat around smoking hashish and cigarettes.
Jose introduced the girls to each man individually.
One man, taller then the others, held out his hand and Chris
took it instinctively. His name was Neil. Typical of the
Spanish, he had large brown eyes and perfect white teeth. Chris'
grimace faded to a slow growing smile. These men looked
undemanding and well-dressed; there was no reason for her to feel
like a cheap date. Whatever happened would be worth it, wouldn't
it? After tonight, she could forget about paying the rent, forget
about having to find a job; and for all that she'd do anything.
"Let me get you a drink," Jose offered, heading for the
kitchenette to pour two glasses of wine for the girls. Chris felt
uncomfortably like a harem girl on the sale block, but she
resigned herself to enduring it. There were whispered asides and
chuckles from some of the men who sat busily eyeing the two girls.
The opinions of a bunch of strangers meant nothing to her, not in
the face making one hundred dollars for being sociable!
She moved without thinking, following the others like a dumb
steer in a moving herd; and when she was called upon to speak, she
opened her mouth and somehow, the words came out. Another joint
was making the rounds, a different kind this time, something one
of the Mexican men pulled out of his jacket. Chris dutifully took
her puff in turn, and nearly choked at the incredible potency of
this grass. Jesus, it was nothing like the other! This was so
strong it made her dizzy as she held it in her lungs!
* * *
Whatever it was that happened next, in the next hour -- or
was it two hours? is anybody's guess, for surely Chris will never
know. All she remembers now is that she took another drag from
the tiny tightly-rolled joint with the pinpoint of glowing red
ember on the end, and before she knew it, the room had changed.
Some of the men had left, gone were the soft red lamps, and in
their place was an unused bedroom, strewn and soiled and
cigarette-burned mattresses, lighted with three candles jammed
into the necks of empty wine bottles; it looked more like a
fraternity house, she later mused, than an adult's apartment.
Sandy was there, and both of the Mexican men -- Jose and Neil
-- and three other men from the party, one she remembered. Doug.
Just she and Sandy and five men!
I must be going nuts! What am I doing in this room with
these people? And smoking grass, I've never been so loaded in my
life. Have I completely lost my mind?
"Here, honey, try some," said a voice. It was Sandy, holding
what looked like a tiny silver spoon between her fingers, filled
with some powdery grains.
"What is it?" she asked. "I don't need anything more except
for a cup of strong coffee."
"This is far better than coffee, honey," laughed one of the
men. "It's cocaine."
Chris drew in her breath. "Oh no," she gasped. "I've had
enough."
Sandy squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Chris, it's not
hard stuff. In fact, it's not addictive at all. It'll make you
feel a lot better, clear your head. It's really good for making
you think clearly. Go ahead, just sniff it up your nose and hold
it, and don't sneeze, it you can help it."
Sandy held the miniature spoon under her nostril and Chris,
finally, breathed it up into her sinuses, but she wasn't prepared
for what she experienced. Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a
switch, everything intensified, all her thoughts seemed ordered
and well-contained. And this room, this whole scene, seemed
somehow under control, as if nothing could happen to her because
she knew what was going on and was in control of every second. It
was weird, wonderfully weird, the feeling of exhilaration and
power and confidence that that one sniff of the powder had given
her.
But there was something else, something Sandy and the others
knew about, but Chris had yet to learn. Another of the
interesting side effects of cocaine, and effect the boys and Sandy
were quite looking forward to ... cocaine is one of nature's best
aphrodisiacs! With a little coke ... man, the feelings! Jose's
people had a saying, "A little coke makes any cock bigger!" and it
was true, nothing heightened the feelings and the sensations of
fucking better! What Chris didn't realize was that she had just
inhaled enough into her brain to turn her into a helpless,
uncontrolled sex-machine!
Chris was wearing a yellow jumpsuit that perfectly set off
the beautiful curves of her long trim thighs and calves, and she
had risen to her feet, a little unsteadily at first from the
feeling of exhilaration of the coke, and was weaving slowly and
gently to to the sound of recorded music from the large speakers
in Roger's living room beyond. Like every room in the house, the
bedroom was wired for music.
Chris felt lightheaded, as if she would float off the edge of
the chair if she didn't hold on. She became fascinated with the
red shadows cast by the red lightbulbs.
Swaying smoothly from side to side, Sandy reached for the
zipper that ran down the front of her garment. She pulled slowly
on the zipper of the jumpsuit, one arm swaying drunkenly above her
head, beginning ever-so-slowly to remove her clothes before these
strangers. Chris, like the two men beside her, was entranced,
mesmerized by what her roommate was about to do. Sandy was a
fantastic dancer, and Chris never wearied of watching her perform,
whether it was in front of a bedroom mirror or in public. The
girl definitely had a gift for rhythm.
The anticipation charged the atmosphere like a million volts
of electric current. The brunette's hips moved slowly at first,
then began to bump and grind with a growing lustful intensity as
the two men and Chris looked on excitedly. She tossed her long
black hair from side to side, letting it drape freely and loosely
over her shoulders as she moved with the beat of the music. She
eased the zipper down to her navel exposing enough of her ample
cleavage to start the two Mexicans breathing quickly and heavily.
Her ripely full young breasts seemed to be straining to escape the
concealment of her garment peeking from beneath the fabric in two
soft, inviting mounds of warm flesh. One last tug, and they were
free, swaying heavily as she gently rocked from side to side.
Jose and Neil's eyes were wide with excited disbelief as they
watched this incredibly lascivious display, this beautiful young
white girl stripping before their eyes, stripping herself to her
ripe, full nakedness. But best of all, she was going to be theirs
for fucking. Jose and Neil knew why this had been planned --
they'd have to be fools not to know this whole thing was set up to
be nothing more that the Roman coliseum spectacles, Nubian savages
hauled to Rome to amuse the funseekers. This was what was
expected of them, and they knew it, but it didn't matter -- not
with a couple of chicks like this! Neither of them had had
college girls before, and to start with one like this brunette,
Christ, it was too good to be true. Who cared who saw it! They'd
give them a show, all right, show these other men what a real man
could do with a hot-blooded girl like this. Yes sir, they'd give
them a show they'd never forget!
Jose could feel his cock already aching painfully inside his
pants, straining, yearning to be set free and allowed to penetrate
this lovely creature. He tried to imagine what her pussy would be
like ... wet and soft, pink and warm and vulnerable ... just
waiting for his long, hard, big brown cock to fill her like she'd
never been filled before.
Sandy lifted one softly firm breast with her hand, just
enough to feel its full voluptuousness as it stood taut, high and
quivering from the touch of her own fingers slowly flowing
caressingly over the warmly supple flesh. Her gleaming tits
seemed to be swirling in a dance of their own, shivering with the
beat of the music as it wafted from the wall-mounted speakers,
inviting the two men forward as the others watched. Their eyes
were agog, as Sandy urged Jose and Neil to take her throbbing
nipples in their hotly wet mouths, seemingly begging them to
answer the gnawing, churning animal need in her white belly -- a
need as old as the beginning of time.
Balancing on one foot, she tugged the jumpsuit down to her
ankles and yanked it off, then removed the other side, leaving
nothing but her little pink panties between the eyes of the men
and her own delicious nakedness. Chris was staring, watching with
eyes that saw but did not believe. Sandy's tiny panties were not
enough to cover completely her magnificently formed buttocks, as
she spun slowly around before them, they could all see where the
long flowing curve of her smoothly unblemished back soared inward,
then swept out again and joined the arching fleshy swell of her
buttocks. Half of each firm, ivory white cheek was nakedly
revealed beneath the taut sheerness of her panties. Above, in the
deep arch of her back, her two dimples peered back at them like
warm, black eyes at the tip of her spine.
Except for the sound of the music, there wasn't a noise to be
heard in the stuffy, close room as the drugged girl ground her
ripely flaring hips back and forth at her hypnotized audience,
daring anyone to yank the thin filmy panties down from her slender
young waist, over the tenderly sensitive flesh of her smooth inner
thighs. Her fingers hooked in the tight band of her panties, and
she began to slowly, teasingly, roll them over the full ripe swell
of her buttocks, her back demurely turned like a professional
stripper might, and her ass poked out in jaunty invitation toward
the perspiring audience.
They gasped aloud, all of them, at their first real glimpse
of the gorgeous young white girl's warmly naked ass, the glow of
light form the candles reflecting as if in a mirror on the
smoothly gleaming flesh of her full rounded mounds. Slowly, she
rolled the panties down over the firmly jutting cheeks of her ass,
stretching them as they tightened in the crevice beneath the
smooth curve of her bottom-cheeks, where the soft swell joined her
milky thighs. She leaned forward, pushing out her exposed
buttocks at the two Mexicans, rotating it lustily in an
unmistakable lewd sexual invitation.
She revelled in what she was doing -- offering herself bodily
to two Mexicans, right here in her landlord's apartment! The
wicked, forbidden thrill of it all wildly excited her, and she
hungered for their huge brown pricks inside of her, fucked hard
and deep between her white milky thighs.
She reached back with her bare arms and spread the twin
mounds apart, obscenely displaying the tightly puckered little
brown ring of her anus, the taut nether ring opening and closing
as she tensed the strong muscles in her ass. Over the whispered,
excited mumblings of the three other men, Jose and Neil's heavy
breathing drowned out all other sounds in the small candle-lit
room. Nothing was in their minds now except the hotly beckoning
little hole of the young brunette's anus, puckered open like a
small taut mouth just waiting for the long stiff lengths of their
aching cocks to bore deep up into her insides, to tunnel into her
back hole like miners searching for gold.
Sandy's nakedly gleaming ass rotated on its own axis as she
alternately relaxed and tightened the muscles of her buttocks.
She turned back around, facing the two Mexicans, seemingly
mindless of her friend. Chris, sitting stupefied to her right and
stoned out of her mind from the powerful combination of marijuana
and cocaine, watching everything with glazed, unbelieving eyes.
With both hands, Sandy lifted the bountiful fullness of her
breasts, offering them wordlessly to the two brown men. Jose and
Neil were the only men standing now; the other men had retreated
to the living room, their hands in their laps to conceal their
aching hard-ons as they watched this nakedly luscious white girl
offer herself like a slave to the boys. They had not paid for the
right to enjoy these two girls, much to their chagrin. But fair
was fair, after all.
Now Sandy tantalizingly opened her palms down over the trim
curve of her waist, over the smooth expanse of flesh warmly
gleaming in the candle light. With her thumbs, she caught the
elastic band of her panties, now covering only the soft thicket of
pubic hair at the bottom of her pelvis, and the moistly heated
pink lips beneath. Her thighs parted as she lowered the filmy
nylon garment like a flat of unconditional surrender, nakedly
exposing the vee at the top of her supple thighs in the flickering
candlelight of that heated room. She continued to teasingly peel
the tight-fitting panties down over her hips and along her bare
legs; then she stepped out of them and tossed them at Jose's feet.
In the closed room, the air was suddenly charged as if by
lightning bolts; she was no completely naked before the two
Mexican men and the men peeking around the door jam from the
living room. There was nothing left to the imagination. Chris
was shocked back to reality; she tried to look away, to hide her
face from this wanton spectacle, as if it was wrong for her to be
there, to see her friend degrade herself this way. But the
incredible combination of marijuana and cocaine once again
asserted its grip on her -- she couldn't look away! She was drawn
back to the salacious scene as if by some ancient black magic
ritual, to the wickedly exciting vision of her old friend stripped
naked like this in front of these men, two of them weren't even
Americans!
Sandy opened her legs, giving the closest ones, Jose and
Neil, an unobstructed view of her nakedly unguarded cuntal hole
and her puckered pussy lips moistly glistening with her own love
juices. There was a sudden rustling as the three heated men from
the living room made a mad dash, shuffling for positions on the
mattresses, maneuvering for a better glimpse of this brunette's
lewd dance. Next time they would know better; when Roger said he
had two hot ones, he meant hot!
"Bet you'd like some of that, huh, Neil?" shouted one
hootingly.
"You better believe it, brother," came his fast, unruffled
reply. He knew what they were thinking ... but to hell with all
of them! He was going to get some white pussy tonight, and it
suited him all the better that these other men would bear witness.
This way, nobody would ever doubt his story, and besides, he liked
the idea of others watching as one of their friends got fucked.
Sandy leaned backwards, scraping her long lustrous hair to
the floor as she swept her head wildly from side to side. The
tempo of the music from the speakers had suddenly picked up and
with it, Sandy's savagely wanton dance grew more and more frantic,
flickering colors radiated from the melting candles to cast a
thousand different multi-colored shadows along the warmly gleaming
curves and valleys of her ripe young body.
With a teasing, tormenting grin, she brought her hands from
behind and slipped them down over her body into the warm crevice
between her parted thighs. Her fingers spread the pink ragged
lips of her pussy as she leaned back, opening the moistly hot
passage to the hungry stares of all five men.
Jose could take it no longer -- not that he was any more
excited than his friend Neil, it was just simply that Jose was too
far gone from the cocaine and grass to respond as quickly and he
stood mesmerized by the girl's writhing passion. But not Jose!
In what seemed less than an instant, he moved in close to the
nakedly dancing girl, unbuttoning his trousers and dropping them
to the floor as he stepped clear of them.
Baby, oh, baby, this here cock of mine is goin' so deep
inside your sweet littl' white ass you'll think it's comin' out
the top of your head!
"Come here, baby. I've got some good, good meat for you!"
And as he spoke, he pulled off his undershorts and yanked them
down his muscular brown legs. His enormous cock sprang up like a
frightened stallion, hard and gleaming along its full thick
length. Sandy looked only at his huge, frightening cock, sticking
out from his rock hard loins like a flag staff from the side of a
building. And suddenly she was afraid ... It'll kill me! I've
never seen a cock so huge! I could never take that thing up
inside me!
He circled her like a lion stalking his prey, sizing up her
youthfully firm nakedness, exploring with his hungry eyes every
inch, every crevice of her deliciously ripe young body. She
trembled as she anticipated what was next, fearful literally for
her life as she stared in horrified fascination at the awesome
symbol of his manhood rising from his sweating pelvis like some
vicious weapon. His brown muscles rippled as he moved, obviously
he was in excellent physical condition, probably a weight lifter
or a physical fitness nut. She couldn't see an ounce of flab
anywhere on his body, his legs and arms were thick and full, with
hard curves tracing the lines of his well-developed muscles. He
had the look of power about him, and Sandy suddenly had the
terrifying feeling that she was going to be raped by an animal,
that his awesome sexual energy was somehow linked to that untapped
forbidding well of animal passion, the jungles of the Amazon
itself.
He could feel his balls aching with desire as he looked over
the naked young girl; he'd never seen one so beautiful before, as
he'd only been in the states a few days.
"Oh honey, I'm going to fuck you, sweet white bitch, like
you've never been fucked before, you little Gringo! I'm gonna
make you wish you'd been born brown like me so you could have had
me all your life!"
He wished he could see into the other girl's mind, know what
she must be thinking as she watched her girl friend about to get
fucked by a Mexican. Shit, she was probably soaked between her
legs just from looking at his cock! Wait 'til she sees it goin'
in nice and easy, all wet and slick and hard, sunk to the hilt in
this white bitch's cunt!
"Down on your knees, bitch! I got something I want first ...
you take care of me, and I'll do the same for you."
Sandy obeyed without daring to question his order, dropping
instantly down on all fours at the huge naked man's feet, her bare
thighs and soft white buttocks quivering helplessly as she cringed
before him awaiting his command. She was a bought woman and she
knew it.
Sandy was a shivering mass of sensitized nerve endings as she
knelt before him, worked into a sexual frenzy by the fury of her
own lascivious striptease, and now, uncontrollably, she found
herself reaching for the incredibly long shaft of his glistening
brown cock; reverently, in awe, her fingers sought to touch it, to
do homage to its majestic hugeness as it stood out, now fully hard
and erect, like a boom of a sailing ship from his wiry loins. A
minuscule seeping of his seminal fluid poised on the blood-
engorged tip of the enormous organ.
He kneeled over her straddling her and wallowing in the
reckless thrill of watching this brunette, sex-crazy white bitch
writhing so voluptuously between his legs, her fingers gently,
lovingly, wrapped around the wrist-thick shaft of his brown prick
and he inched forward, on his knees now, pushing her back onto the
mattress until the soft white flesh of her body was flattened
beneath him. He eased forward, lasciviously rubbing his naked
crotch along a trim supple length of her helplessly writhing form,
his brown thighs and heavy dark balls insinuating themselves over
the smooth whiteness of her translucent young skin; his buttocks
pressed down onto the smoothly rounded nakedness of the white
Gringo's bare breasts and he could feel the tiny pink tips of her
hard little nipples rubbing against his ass as she squirmed in
nervous anticipation beneath him. He caught a glimpse of the
three other men out of the corner of his vision, all of them
hunched excitedly on their mattress perches, their mouths hanging
open laxly as they watched this wanton spectacle unfolding before
their amazed eyes. Fuck, he'd give 'em all a show!
"Open those pretty little lips, cause I want a little cock-
sucking first."
Sandy knew better than to resist now; the man's feelings, a
long time of desire and frustration, were all reflected in his
dark eyes; and suddenly, she knew this was to be a long, long
night.
With one hand, he lifted her head, gripping the thick black
hair and pulling her up toward his long impatiently throbbing
cock. With the other, he forced the lengthy dark shaft of his
danglin cock downward so that it brushed the girl's wetly ovalled
lips. He circled her mouth with the swollen dark head, brushing a
thin smear of the white seminal discharge from the end of it over
her lips and chin.
"Open your mouth ... nice and wide!" Sandy reluctantly
obeyed, though the humiliation of lewdly lying like this before
her best friend and the other men was far worse than she could
have ever imagined. Her mind was still reeling from the drugs,
and she fantasized that she was a Mexican wife, caught as hostage
by a revolting crowd of Mexican peasants. And now, as an example
to the others, she was to be wantonly, inhumanely, ravished and
abused ... an outlet for hundreds of years of denials and
frustrated repression.
Jose slipped the thick hard head of his cock along her
saliva-thickened tongue and deep into her mouth, filling it
completely as it snaked slowly down her throat. She clamped her
lips around the huge brown cock, and then began licking wildly at
the swollen, throbbing tip, swirling her tongue over the sensitive
little hole at the end. In her state of drug-induced fantasizing,
she felt she was still the plantation owner's wife and that she
had to do her best to please him, for she shuddered to think what
those enormous brown hands of his could do to her frail body is
she displeased him, refused him any favors, no matter how
degrading or disgusting.
Sandy couldn't see Chris or Neil, but she knew they would be
watching as she hungrily licked and swirled her quivering pink
tongue along the full brown length of his glistening cock imbedded
in her mouth. It reflected the flickering candlelight as it
slithered wetly from her wide-stretched, ovalled lips; every
thrust forward of his kinky-haired pelvis shoved the huge
throbbing cock further down her bruised throat passage. The girl
explored every pore of the enormous prick, holding her fingers
securely around its thick hairy base as she felt the shivers of
heatedly savage desire rippling through his belly as her tongue
licked the distended tip clean of its sticky seminal emissions.
His deep painful thrusts became faster as she swirled her tongue
tantalizingly around the throbbing head.
Jose couldn't take his eyes off the squirming, totally naked
body of the young white girl lying so helplessly beneath him. He
could feel her warmly taut breasts heaving under him, her nipples
poking into the brown flesh of his ass as she breathed heavily in
her wanton excitement. Her pale-pink lips were stretched
grotesquely as she strained to fit the thick bulk of his brown
prick buried to the hilt in her throat, gagging as she tried
vainly to accommodate the hot fleshy cudgel that threatened to
completely choke her any second. Her dark hair fanned out behind
her like a halo; she was a white love goddess ... and she was his
to do with as he pleased.
His balls rubbing over his chin, he stepped up the pace of
his assault on her white face, grinding his pelvis against her
until her nose was rubbing into the hairs above his cock.
It was nearly impossible to swallow, for the thick pulsing
head of his prick filled her tender throat hole to capacity. She
waited until there was a chance, when his cock was nearly out of
her mouth on his long, smooth back thrust, and gulped down a quick
swallow of saliva and seminal juices that were almost choking her.
It felt better now, her throat muscles relaxed, and the thick
shaft bored even deeper into her hotly working mouth. His hands
were on her hips, unnecessary now for she offered him no
resistance, and he was grinning broadly as he watched the naked
young girl beneath his sperm-laden testicles gulping and
swallowing to take in every inch of his hardened cock. He
suddenly stepped up the pace faster still, ramming the full
throbbing length far down her throat, as his sweaty pelvis pushed
hard against her face. He didn't look around, but he knew his
friends must be going out of their minds watching a show like
this. But dammit, he'd paid enough for this little bitch to put
out for him, and he was going to get his moneys worth.
Sandy caught a glimpse of Neil, standing just a few feet
away. He had his cock out! It was as big as his friend Jose's,
and he looked as though he aimed to use it!
Jose suddenly jerked back as if in terrific pain, his head
thrown back, his mouth open as if about to scream, sinking his
thick brown cock as far as it would go down the bruised throat of
the girl, his sperm-bloated balls dangling over her chin, his
loins pressed tight against her face. She couldn't breathe -- the
huge shaft blocked her throat and his wetly matted hair covered
her nostrils like a damp cloth ... and then it happened. The
final act in this lascivious tableau, the ultimate humiliation.
The enormous brown hose tightly imbedded in her throat suddenly
began to spurt its white hot load deep down into her belly, spurt
after spurt of the thick fluid cascaded down her bruised throat in
wet, oozing waves, soothing the battered and ravaged flesh as it
drained salaciously down into her white heaving belly. Sandy's
cheeks hollowed to contain the flooding sperm, and a trickle
escaped her lips to stream down her cheek to the floor below as
she lay on her back, naked and helpless, her legs apart so that
the others could see far up between her thighs. They saw her
naked hairlined slit, as well as the wanton sight of her milking
this brown man's balls dry. And they all found their arousal
growing hotter with each passing second.
"That's it, bitch, every drop! Suck it clean, honey!" Jose
crooned, a satisfied grin on his darkly handsome face.
The pungent liquid filled her mouth as one last time she
gulped it down to join the rest filling her excitedly quivering
belly. He gave one last shuddering gasp, smashing his loins down
against her face, smearing the hotly oozing flow around her nose
and cheeks, as the huge brown organ began to soften, turning
rubbery between her tightly compressed lips. He pulled it free
with a lewd sucking sound, and it trailed a stream of white sticky
sperm over her naked young breasts and along her belly as he
rocked back onto his heels. Sandy could breathe again freely for
the first time since he had crouched over her, and her bulging
breasts rose and fell as she gasped hungrily to fill her aching
lungs.
For the first time since he'd started fucking her, there was
whispered conversation again in the dimly-lit room from the other
men huddled together a few feet away, their eyes on Chris as she
sat on the edge of a mattress, her eyes glazed over from the
drugs.
"Well, how about you, Neil?" hooted one of the men. "Think
you can top that?" Neil was standing to the side his hand already
on his waiting, eagerly throbbing cock. Chris turned
instinctively and gasped as she saw it, only vaguely aware that it
was meant for her. She had fleeting thoughts of running, of
escaping, but for the moment, she was paralyzed, unable even to
stand unaided.
"Hey, honey," came the menacing voice. Chris turned and
faced its source. "Looks like you and me got somethin' to work
on."
The befuddled young girl felt hands touch her shoulders, then
her arms, and suddenly there seemed to be strong male hands all
over her, pushing her, prodding her to her feet.
The jeering voices came through the darkness again, over the
raucous roar of the stereo speakers. "C'mon girl, here's your
chance for some meat! Let's see what you can do!"
Chapter 9
At that moment Chris despised her friend, hated her for
getting her into this loathsome situation. As always, it was
Sandy who talked her into it. She leapt to her feet, backing away
from the man cautiously, intent only on making it to the closed
door a dozen feet away.
One of the men jumped and blocked the door. He grinned down
at her. "Oh, no you don't, bitch ... you ain't running out on us
now. You're paid for this ... you're a whore ... a whore!" he
spat. The words stung more than her ears, sluicing through the
fogged stoniness of her brain. A whore. It's true, she'd been
hired to be a prostitute. All that jive about speaking French and
Spanish ... all of it was a set up.
She tried to struggle away, but his hand lashed out at her
shoulder; she snapped away just as his finger snared the thin
fabric of her blouse, ripping it down the middle as if it were
paper. The garment fell away in tow tattered halves, exposing the
white firmness of her breasts softly resting in the sheer cups of
her bra. "No, please ... let me go!"
Both of the men's powerful arms suddenly snaked around her,
and with one quick, deft move, he unhooked the three tiny hooks of
her bra and yanked it away, throwing it halfway across the room in
his frantic excitement. His eyes widened as he stared at the
frightened blonde's large, ripe breasts, two bulging, pink-tipped
mounds just waiting for his lips. But this terrified young girl
wasn't for him now, she belonged to Neil. Almost reluctantly, he
shoved her toward the other man.
"Come here!" he growled, and this time Chris knew there was
no choice but to obey. Neil was watching eagerly, and he, too,
had moved between her and the door, still stark naked, his arms
folded across his huge chest. Chris took one half-step toward the
door, trying to avoid him, and abruptly found herself in the
frenzied, sex-hungry Mexican's clutches. His fleshy lips locked
hungrily on hers as his rough tongue darted between her teeth,
hotly exploring the moist recesses of her mouth. Chris tried to
pull away, to break away from his grip, but he held her tightly
with his big hands clamped like vises on her forearms, pinching
the muscles so painfully she could feel the circulation slowing in
her hands and wrists. His warmly wet lips left her mouth and
traced a line along the curve of her upturned chin, passionately,
but gently, nibbling at the soft flesh of her neck before moving
down along the smooth expanse of her chest. The horrified girl's
blood ran cold as Neil's voraciously sucking lips neared the
fleshy swell of her agitated breasts; another instant, and they
were hotly clamped around the pinkish-brown halos of her nipples.
Now his glistening tongue whirled around the hardening tips of her
quivering breasts, and his sharp teeth nipped playfully at the
swelling little nipples. Chris knew Sandy was watching, she knew
her best friend was somewhere there in the darkness, watching as
she was dragged into the lowest, vilest depths of humiliation and
depravity. She was once again, the second time in less than 24
hours, being treated like a whore. But how unlike last night!
Francois had been such a gentleman. Now she was nothing but a
plaything for these vicious men, theirs to fondle, to caress.
Theirs to empty their seething loads of sperm into, just a lust-
receptacle for these ... savages!
Chris was only slightly aware of being maneuvered toward the
empty mattress. now that she was standing, the effects of the
drug seemed doubled, the room was spinning around a central axis,
whirling in a dizzying kaleidoscope heightened by the flickering
lights of the candles. Her calves backed against the edge of the
mattress, and with a gentle push from Neil, she fell flat on her
back across the mattress, her skirt bunching up around her slender
young waist, her eyes had been closed; now she opened them wide in
fear as she lost her balance and tumbled across the mattress.
Neil seemed to tower over her like a giant -- his chest a solid,
dark wall of muscle now that he had taken off his shirt.
"Please don't ... please," she whimpered futilely. She,
herself, knew that her pleas and tears would be unheeded; nothing
would stop this muscle-bound Mexican now!
He leaned forward and nibbled the soft, tender flesh of her
inner thigh, teasing the skin playfully with sharp, nipping little
bites all along the smooth nakedness of her upper leg. He started
just above her dimpled knee and worked his way up, up, up ...
stopping just short of the flimsy panties at the intersection of
her firm, fearfully trembling thighs. Chris tried to fight it --
she wouldn't give this vicious animal the satisfaction of seeing
her respond to his lustful advances.
In spite of her good intentions, the girl had downed too much
of that potent cocaine to remain totally in control of her body;
she began to moan as his hot lips nibbled steadily in one spot,
just inches away from the almost unguarded furrow of her young
cunt. His hands slid easily over her tautly smooth belly and
fastened on the jutting mounds of her softly ripe breasts.
Squeezing with his open palms and pinching the tender flesh in
ridges between his brown fingers which contrasted so sharply with
her white skin and blonde hair.
Her mind was reeling! She'd been prepared for the worst ...
for agonizing pain, for abject humiliation and sordid degradation
... the way it had been with Mark ... but not this! His warm,
sensuous seduction was something she had not anticipated! If only
he weren't so gentle, so skilled in his passionate probings of her
naked body.
Of their own volition, Chris long legs slowly parted, opening
up the moistly pink slit of her pussy, easily visible to the man's
view beneath the gauze-like material of her panties. It looked
like a long-sought treasure to him, sparkling, gleaming ruby
concealed up there between her wide spread thighs. "Do it, Neil,"
one of the men in the background yelled. "She's just asking for
you to eat her pussy." His remark was greeted with laughter, but
the big brown man gave no indication of hearing it. His hotly
voracious mouth moved closer to the forbidden orifice, his nose
brushing the fragrant curls teasing out from under the legbands of
her panties. By now, everyone, including Chris, knew his goal;
the moistly throbbing cunt between her snow white thighs.
She jerked harshly as she felt another pair of hands touch
her face and shoulders. Her eyes popped open ... it was Sandy!
"Here, Chris, take another deep drag. It'll loosen you up."
She held a brightly glowing joint between her fingers, and before
the young blonde could answer, touched the cigarette to her lips.
Chris inhaled, filling her lungs quickly with a slow powerful
puff, then held it until her chest seemed about to explode. Sandy
then disappeared again in the darkness around the mattress, but
that didn't matter. Chris could feel the potent drug rush
straight to her brain; the flashing colors from outside suddenly
intensified, burning brightly now like tinted floodlights shining
into the smokey room, her hands had been by her side, but now they
were moving of their own accord to the flat plane of her belly,
just above the gentle mound of her pelvis with its thinly covered
blonde pubic mound.
Abruptly, she pulled the crotchband of her panties aside and
began rubbing herself tenderly, caressingly, her fevered young
body responding now fully to the man's carnal probings up between
her long slender legs.
With surprising gentleness, Neil removed her hands and then
brushed apart the softly curling pubic hair guarding her exposed
pussy, using his thumbs to gently spread the heatedly moistened
layers of pink flesh. He leaned forward at the same moment and
without warning, clamped his hungry lips on the pearl-like bud of
her clitoris. Chris's whole body suddenly arched off the bed,
shattered with a searing blast of animal desire that shot out her
loins as his lips made their first hot contact with her naked
pussy. Again, he began the tormenting nibbling of her clitoris,
while, at the same time, his hands were hungrily ripping the soft
flimsy crotchband of her panties all the way open.
"Oooohhh ... please ... ppplleease ..." But her cry was more
one of anguished helplessness than of pain or terror and, then as
the panties were ripped in half, behind held together only by the
elastic band around her waist, her hips began a wanton response of
their own, grinding upward against his brown face as he chewed
ravenously on her fevered cunt-lips. Chris was strapped in a
swirling, soaring surging of drug-heightened rapture and wanton
delight.
Neil's quivering red tongue snaked into the hotly moist
tunnel between her widespread legs, worming in between the soft
warm walls, then licking along the wet furrow of her pussy until
his tongue brushed electrically again over her throbbing clitoris.
One brown hand was far up between the shadowy cleft of her whitely
trembling buttocks, his fingers caressing the tight puckered ring
of her anus, the other hand was climbing back up to the damp slit
of her cunt and on reaching it, he slid his outstretched middle
finger easily into the warm shelter of her violently trembling
pussy, pushing back the tight fleshy walls that clamped so hotly
around it.
"Christ, she's got the tightest pussy I've ever seen man,
it's gonna be something else pumping my meat into this hot little
bitch," thought Neil.
He pulled his finger momentarily from her moistly heated
tunnel and spread even wider the pink, ragged lips of her pussy,
burying his face tighter against her writhing loins as his lips
clenched tight around the pulsing nipple of he clitoris. His
tongue licked hungrily at her wetly perfumed slit, lapping at her
seeping cuntal juices and swallowing them down eagerly, relishing
the young feminine taste of her naked pussy against his lips.
Chris opened her mouth as if to cry out, but only a mournful
hoarse moan escaped her lips, a soulful whine from deep in her
throat. She was frantically writhing now, quivering at his
agonizing touch, slamming the whole of her lust heated loins up
against the man's face, grinding her fleshy pink pussy lips hard
against his full lips.
Oh God, what's happening to me? Have I turned into some kind
of animal? Why can't I make this all go away? Oh my God, I can't
stop myself ... I can't stop myself!
Her empty cunt was now aching with wild, insatiable passion
... aching for the one thing that would answer the torturing,
lustful desire that were fanning hotly in her naked belly ...
aching for the hard, soothing thrust of his cock ... aching for
his long, throbbing manhood buried deep in her burning hole. She
had to have it, she had to have its rock hard firmness rammed up
inside her -- there was no other way to quell this frenzied riot
of savage passion burning out of control in her quivering belly.
Neil's two strong hands suddenly gripped her ankles as she
pulled away from her, and with one twist, he rolled her over on
her belly, "Get up on your knees," he commanded, and Chris obeyed.
She would have done anything right now to get rid of that wanton
desire rippling incessantly from her cunt. The mattress was soft,
and it gave under her weight, but she gripped the edges securely,
bracing herself as she rose to her knees and hands, her naked
white buttocks waving like a red flag before the man on his knees
behind her.
Sandy had dropped into the chair by the door, her naked legs
dragged over the arm, and Jose was preparing to fuck her hungry
waiting cunt, holding his huge throbbing cock with both hands as
he guided it toward the waiting white girl's wet, juicy sheath.
Neither of them would have taken their eyes off the action on the
other mattress for a second, but they had withstood the torturing
flames of naked lust as long as they could stand it ... there was
no holding back now. Sandy cried out in pain and exaltation as
the long glistening shaft eased between the pink flanges of her
pussy, stretching the tender lips wide as the blood-filled head
sank out of sight in the young woman's cunt.
Fighting the pain, Sandy gripped the arm of the chair and
shoved her ravenous pussy back up against the Mexican's hard
lunge; she gasped aloud as his thick cock sank six inches in her
hotly stretched cunt pushing aside the soft moist walls like
rippling waves as he burrowed deep into her open cuntal hole. He
paused, then thrust the rest of his enormous fleshy rod up all the
way to the hilt in her belly, ramming it into her so hard that
tears filled her eyes from the painful agony. He'd waited too
long already for this -- there was no time now for building up
slowly, he pumped into her like a stallion mounting a mare in
heat, thrusting in hard and fast in a frantic rhythm that
threatened to split her in half with its fury. He'd been led too
far -- the delicious thrill of having the beautiful bought girl
sucking his cock -- the wildly exciting lewd spectacle of her
young friend's naked pussy being cannibalized by his friend, Neil.
Suddenly, the man's head went back and a surprised, anguished
shout came from his lungs ... his brown, fleshy hose again spewed
its load into the girl's belly, only this time it pumped in
staccato bursts into her hungry, receptive young cunt, filling it
completely and oozing whitely out onto the arm of the chair.
Sandy's pussy-lips milked every drop of the hotly jerking sperm
from the huge shaft, sucking the warm viscous liquid deep up into
her hungrily absorbing young belly.
Neil had now crawled up behind the nakedly quivering blonde
and grabbed the soft flesh of her buttocks, turning her wetly
glistening cunt back up at an even more acute angle. Chris felt
one hand slip away from her ass for an instant, and then it was
spreading the soft pliable lips of her pussy. Neil looked down at
his massively throbbing cock poised just an inch from the white
girl's hot little cunt. Then, never taking his eyes off his rigid
staff, he watched as his painfully aching cock moved closer and
closer to the moistly quivering opening.
Sandy, only partially recovered from her wild fucking
session, had swung her long legs around and was sitting,
enraptured, on the edge of the chair. Jose was sitting behind her
unconsciously resting his mammoth cock on the girl's bare white
shoulder. An insistent oozing of semen dripped down onto her
flesh, trickling in a lurid stream down to the upthrusting swell
of her warm, naked breast.
Neil eased forward now onto the young body of the girl on her
hands and knees, his eagerly pulsating cock first touching, then
slowly slipping into her tight little pussy, parting the soft
pubic fluff with the hard shaft of his mighty organ. He could
feel the warm, resilient folds of her pussy close tightly over the
bulbous head of his cock as he held it there, immobile, just
barely in her clasping cunt, rocking it in and out, teasing her
and intensifying the uncontrollable desire in her wantonly
writhing body.
My God! What a tight pussy! He couldn't believe how good it
felt as his strong muscular walls wetly gripped his aching cock
like a clenched fist, pulling him deeper and deeper into her
hungrily sucking cuntal depths.
He kept his rigidly long cock there for several minutes, only
an inch or two of it nestled in the moist tightness of her cuntal
hole, rocking it in and out, driving the naked white girl on her
hands and knees insane with his rhythmic, insistent strokes. The
walls of her pussy seemed to have come alive; they were throbbing,
pulsing, grabbing at this invading maleness desperately trying to
pull its long length into her shamelessly aroused hole.
"Oh God, I can't stand it! I can't stand it! Fuck me, oh,
please, fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" Chris suddenly groaned,
her brain spinning wildly from the combined effects of the
marijuana and the tormenting probes of his huge fleshy staff
skewering into her from behind.
The young blonde's lewd entreaty acted as a goad to the
perspiring Mexican, and suddenly nothing counted except his
pleasure-giving cock rammed up deep inside her starving hole.
With a quick, smooth snap of his hips, Neil sent his long cock to
the hilt in her cunt, slamming his loins forward until his balls
slapped between her thighs. Chris screamed out, an animal cry of
pleasure and pain, and then uttered a long, low moan of anguished
relief as he began to thrust in and out with a pounding, savage
rhythm, with each instroke ramming deeper and deeper in her wildly
rippling belly. Her whole body jerked and squirmed in an obscene
abandonment, a constant cry escaped from her half-open lips, her
face contorted with primitive, savage lust as madly raging desires
took over her body. Beads of perspiration ran down her smooth
naked thighs and mingled with the rivulets of sweat the brown man
was beginning to shed where their legs ground together.
"Oh yes, Harder!" she yelled loudly. "Stick it in me hard
and deep."
The tortured girl was mindless of Jose and Sandy watching and
had long since forgotten the other men. The brunette roommate was
mesmerized at Chris' sudden change from a nice girl to a wanton
whore, and she could feel rebirth of sexual excitement in her own
loins. Both she and Jose were standing now, close by the wildly
pumping figures of the muscular Neil and the shamelessly aroused
blonde.
"Harder, fuck harder," Chris screamed again, her voice almost
inarticulate through her lust-constricted throat.
Neil had never seen anything like it in his life. This
little whore was so hot she was about to explode. God, they
didn't have whores like this in Mexico. "You asked for it, baby.
Here it comes," he groaned and grabbed the fleshy curve of her
pelvis and yanked her back toward his loins, causing her to cry
out shrilly as she was deeply and completely skewered now on his
long, hard spear. He could feel the raw smooth flesh of her pussy
tightly clenching and unclenching in time with his plundering
thrusts, sucking hotly on the long brown length of his cock. The
young girl's breasts were mashed against the mattress, her
buttocks waving obscenely in the air behind her, her eyes and
nostrils flaring wide like those of a crazed animal.
Neil reached under her and lifted her bodily off the mattress
as he pushed back hard against her, forcing every steel-hard inch
of his shaft deeper and deeper up into her belly. Jose and Sandy
drew even closer, only a few feet away now, and even the other men
had moved up -- including, though she didn't know it, the latest
addition to the spectators, Sandy. The hot eyes of their audience
were wide with astonishment as they both watched the long
glistening shaft of Neil's huge cock slither in and out of the
naked blonde's tightly clenching pussy-lips, slipping out on the
backstroke until only the lust-swollen tip remained encased in the
hot, moist sheath, then ramming it home again, crashing hard into
her belly as his sweat-matted pelvis ground tightly against the
cleft of her nakedly squirming buttocks.
"Let her have it!" cried Jose caught up in the lascivious
excitement of the moment, fighting the painful hardness welling in
his loins as he stood, naked, by the bed. His arms was around
Sandy's slender waist, and she, too, seemed almost ready to go out
of her mind herself as she watched the man's hardened cock fuck in
and out of her best friend's cunt. Suddenly she yelled, "Fuck her
good, Neil! Stick it all the way up. She loves it!"
Chris knew she was rapidly nearing the first orgasm she'd
ever really had, and she wanted more, more! This was incredible
... she'd never experienced anything like this in all her life!
She was dazed by the flashing colors that seemed to explode across
her brain, by the high-voltage blasts of electric passion shooting
through her body like blast from a shotgun. Suddenly, this was
the way she wanted it ... wicked and perverted, the filthier and
more lurid the better! "Oh! That's it! Oh, yes, baby, fuck me!"
Her wildly gyrating buttocks swung from side to side in an
uncontrollable savage passion as his powerful brown arms --
muscles bunched and rippling under the tawny skin -- pulled her
writhing ass harder and harder against his nearly-bursting, lust-
inflamed prick.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Aaaaa! I'm cumming," Chris suddenly
screamed. Neil didn't slow his powerfully deep strokes for even a
second; instead, he rammed each long probe to the hilt, straining
his loins forward so that not even a millimeter was left outside
the naked white girl's sucking cunt. Her body arched, her nakedly
gleaming white ass went high in the air as she pushed up and back
against her brown lover. She shrieked like an animal gone mad as
her orgasm continued to build in intensity. The impaled young
girl convulsed, quivering all over as her orgasmic juices flooded
his cock and testicles, flowing wetly out of her tightly clenched
young cuntal lips down her smooth inner thighs.
Neil knew this was the end; he couldn't hold back the painful
tide in his loins any longer. His long fingers bit into the soft
fleshy cheeks of her buttocks as he felt the pain intensify in his
balls. His strokes grew more and more vicious, faster and faster
... deeper and deeper.
"Ooooohhh ... ooohhhhh ... oooohhhh!" Chris punctuated his
every thrust with a soulful cry, grinding her upturned ass back
against his brown loins. Then, with a loud, relieved grunt, the
wildly throbbing cock exploded inside the impaled hips of the
wildly drugged young girl, filling her belly with his hot torrents
of cum, shooting it far, far up into her open and receptive womb.
Again and again and again his long, rigidly pulsating rod emptied
itself with spasmodic jerks up into her wetly clasping and sucking
hole. Then, after a seeming eternity ... with a pained grunt, his
already deflating cock slipped from her tightly clenching cuntal
grip, and she fell forward on her face, still shivering and
squirming lewdly from his frenzied assault ... the only sound in
the room was the gasing wheeze hissing out of Chris' naked chest
as she fought to regain her breath, and a low groan from the
shamelessly aroused Sandy as her hand closed over the long,
throbbing length of Jose's cock and began to caress it lovingly.
* * *
A broad, revengeful smirk burst out over Margaret Sorenson's
tear-streaked face as she peered out from behind her living room
lace curtain to see two squad cars pulling up to the curb outside
of her apartment building. And perfect timing, too, for only five
minutes before she'd watched, from her fire escape perch, Roger
collecting the money from two Mexican men after the other men had
left in a scurry, leaving behind them a lust-ridden scene of empty
liquor bottles and stained mattresses. If her guess was right,
Roger should be paying those two nymphomaniac whores about now,
sneered Margaret, her arms crossed over her heaving bosom, heavy
with sorrow and misgivings of an ended love affair.
She stepped back into the shadows and pulled her bathrobe
tight around her body, a streak of the flooding street lights
playing over her blonde hair. A deep, breathy sigh broke from her
chest in a pained tingle of hate and love. It was over with now
-- the illusions, the hopes, the confusion of loving someone who
never cared except for what he could get, she reassured herself.
Sandor had never liked Roger anyway; he would turn over in his
grave if he knew how she'd let her landlord control her life for
the past month. Ordering her to ... to have oral love with him,
she remembered with a pang of self-loathing, and never returning
the affection. And opening her mail, that had to be against the
law, too.
The curtain dropped from her clutching fingers and the lonely
widow padded for the kitchen for a glass of sherry.
Turning toward the shadows, she stared for a silent moment at
the black box lurking in the darkness and reached down to turn the
knob, a habit born of loneliness. No, she changed her mind.
Johnny Carson was already over with, but there would always be
tomorrow night and the night after that, and the night after that.
There would be many tomorrows until she left for Sweden, she
realized.
Roger would have used her until she was old and poor. It was
better this way, she sighed, opening the cupboard door and
reaching for the sherry bottle.
A scuffle in the street below and the angry murmur of a man
in bonds made Margaret raise her head, set down the bottle and
shuffle to the window. There below, in the street below she saw
the police bodily throw a man into the backseat of the squad car,
two young looking girls, one crying, the other stoic and
stumbling, joined the other policeman in a waiting car.
Sardonically, Margaret raised her hand to salute the scene
below, waving good-bye to the end of her troubles.
Chapter 10
Three days later Chris O'Brien stood waiting and staring
mesmerically at the Friday afternoon traffic snarling its way down
Geary Street. She'd told the cab driver to pull up to the curb
and honk, and hopefully he would have enough patience to do that.
Her suitcases were too heavy to carry down the long hallways of
the apartment building by herself, and she needed to save her
strength for the plane ride back to Detroit.
The smile was gone from her young face, replaced with grim
regret and adolescent look of a girl hungry for reassuring
affection. After the past two days of hassling with the law,
being thrown into the San Francisco County Jail with the whores,
drug pushers, and child beaters, she would need some love from the
people back in Detroit who loved her, even though she was a
tempestuous girl, head strong and too wily for anyone to advise,
yet too moral to play the evil games of the city and go unscathed.
But Sandy could do that. It didn't seem to bother her when
the police broke into Roger's apartment after the orgy. Oh God,
she swallowed hard, blinking back the tears at the remembrance of
her wanton actions. She'd been a whore, nothing but a common
tramp! Hopefully her parent's would never find out about it.
Chris remembered the eery expression that had broken over
Sandy's pixie face when the two girls were hurdled out to the
waiting squad cars. It was as if she were relieved; a child
finally punished for stealing the cookies. That smile, that
vacuous, expressionless smirk had made up Chris' mind ... this
city living was not for her; she would rather forget her pride,
her independent resolutions, and go back to start over -- like
Monopoly, you have to start at go; you can't pick your spot on the
board and think it home. It takes time to build up a comfortable
lifestyle, and crime was not her hour glass.
Chris watched the yellow cab snaking and honking its way
through the tight traffic, pulling up to the curb and honking.
She thrust open the window and waved for the cab driver to come up
to help her with her luggage.
In minutes the heavy door clicked shut behind her; the last
time she would listen to that familiar click of the latch. It
saddened her that Sandy was not there to hug her best friend good-
bye, but maybe that was just as well. They hadn't much in common
anymore, and although Chris still dearly loved her friend as if
she were a sister, they had clearly chosen separate paths. Sandy
was probably standing at a bus stop somewhere in the city looking
for tricks. Just as well, sighed Chris. It would keep her in
clothes, dope, and kicks. That's what mattered to Sandy -- that
and men. But she'd have plenty of them now -- her fill. How
many? Ten? Twenty a day?
Sure, she has a job, thought Chris ruefully, lifting her
portfolio and setting in in the crackling plastic of the back
seat, but what about her future? All that talent ... wasted. All
she has is a lifetime of remorse. That was nothing to be envious
of.
The End