Ned Samuels

Hand maid

CHAPTER ONE

Say good-bye to evenings out, say good-bye to middle managements slobs, Veronica said to herself. She'd had enough of all that at this juncture. Three downers followed by a fair-to-middling degenerated into the pits was almost too much to take. Sam Barber was smooth, no doubt about that. He came on like an ad from a men's magazine, but then it happened. Vern already had the script memorized: (1) this is an affair; (2) my wife doesn't have to know; (3) you don't have to play second fiddle.

Second fiddle! – more like symphony janitor.

So now Vern had her mind all made up. Days would be the usual office nonsense – the light chatter, the senseless flirting, the search for Mr. Right – but nights, she would be pure auto. Vern surveyed her body, and was pleasantly impressed. Her breasts were huge, her hips curved in the right place and her ass was outstanding enough to cause takes in the office, even on Monday mornings. She had a good apartment, too. The bed dominated the studio, but she had the necessities, like an eating area, and a sitting area, and best of all, a fireplace to warm whatever might be in need of simmering.

Vern's eyes skidded about and then settled on her package. It was a big package, but not that big. But not that small. Actually it was one of the most important packages the girl'd brought home in quite a while. Thinking of the contents made her tingle, first through the spine, then in more favored spots. She looked at it and fingered it. Vern walked over to the curtains, then she put the bag on the table. Vern needed a drink. Martini in hand, she soon returned to her little surprise. A smile escaped her lips. Come now, this label's a joke, she said. Vern looked at several pictures of a wholesome lass holding an elongated structure, applying it to her back and upper shoulders.

The caption read: "Learn how to relax. Let Vibro Lax let you sit back and unwind."

Vern began to hum to herself: "Dum da-dum, da… dum, da…" Removing the package, the young secretary's voice became lower, like a breathy moan. Oh, I am a young wench and I'm going to get mine!

Slowly, Vern opened the top, then began to slide her accessory out of the box, already conjuring her imagination, remarking on the vibrator's phallic qualities. It's all mine, she thought. No jilts, no wilting, no wives, no mornings after at the office, and best of all, now Vern was captain – it was her show. Vibrator in hand, Veronica walked over to her full-length mirror and decided to bask for a few minutes in her own reflection. Not bad, she had to admit, not bad at all.

Vern felt something deep inside of her cunt send some desire up into her skull. Sure, she was horny and she was proving she didn't need some corporate stud to keep her going. Why, she was a machine, a unit unto herself, the captain of her own sex ship.

She gazed upon what most men would feel compelled to look at twice, and then do more than look.

Then she moved closer to the mirror.

Vern delighted at her form, the way her brown hair fell on full shoulders; her eyes were large and brown, and if we make take the liberty at this juncture, a hotbed of power, when activated, bringing a man down on his knees, ready to beg for the box; then there were her breasts, large, in the eyes of some positively huge, but best of all, firm and proud; the rest of the young lady was on the thin side but strategically formed.

What did the Greeks call it? Pollution? Laying the body waste? Not at all, said Vern with a sly smile across her lips. Suddenly, gripped by passion instigated by looking in that mirror, Vern grabbed her breasts and began to squeeze them, knead them, push them together and then to the side, manipulate them until she could feel her spongy nipple getting hard, pushing into her palm, becoming redder and larger. Oh, ooh, she moaned to herself, engulfed in her own passion, and we might add, momentarily losing interest in her new toy.

Vern fell back on her rug and landed on several cushions, breaking her fall (it could not have been better if she had poised, aimed, and fired). Instantly male names and faces raced through her mind as her hips moved upward, as her hands wrenched her undies down below her knees, exposing her luxurious pubic hairs, and when she spread her knees apart, a seething, pink honey-box. The names passed: Jack Waterhouse, Marty Ingleton, Ross Ruens, Doug Meunier; bodies: fat, tall, athletic (ectomorph, endomorph, mesomorph) – one after the other.

Vern couldn't remember being so horny, because besides the comfort, they were all so real and all hers for the choosing. Pressing her hips up into the air, churning and twisting, eyes rolling slightly up ward, the lady conjured her scenes and then in a moment of recognition settled upon her material: John Winston, John the Con, the man with the schlong, or as the steno pool used to say, "Sshhh… it's long." Now he was all hers to live out again, this time without the jilt of an ending. She remembered.

"I'd like to defoliate you," he said.

"Is that right?"

"I'd like to defoliate, violate, and not even mitigate," he'd quipped.

Vern remembered it as if it were yesterday, the way she shamelessly bared her breasts beside him in the front seat, the way she placed his hand on her breast, right over the nipple, the way she cupped her hand and placed it on top of his crotch, feeling his manhood grow. She remembered everything. Placing her hand inside her slit at this point in time, she recalled the billboard outside the car, the way the "O", was missing from "COUNTLESS WOMEN USE DIAL", the way she laughed just when he was penetrating. She remembered how red he became, then joined in when he turned and noticed what tickled her.

Vern's fingers were moist now. Her finger had be come John's cock, fat and full. Vern felt her body from head to toe, pushing her fingers through her hair, ascribing circles about her breasts, then pushing downward on her sides (feeling the curve of her hips). Her mind's eye was dynamite, bringing dialogue into play until she wasn't sure what was fact and what was fancy. "Put it in John, put that big cock inside all the way." She could feel its tender, pink head penetrate and then the way the entire shaft seemed to enlarge once inside. Rolling her eyes, Vern tried to flatten her breasts, but the tissue was so firm – had such consistency – that they defiantly remained protruded.

She was in the front seat now: 'CUNTLESS' outside the window, rain pouring down incessantly, John's snipe thickening the air, "You're no frump," coming at her with his hot breath. The scene was chiseled like a fresco: John the Con's hand pushed from her stomach, then settled in the dark place under breast. They were naked (that was one thing Vern still couldn't picture – how the hell had they managed it?) and Vern managed to perch her leg over John's thigh until her knee was just over his groin. At the very moment she applied pressure, at the instant she could feel his member pushing into her skin, she pushed her titty upward, positioning his finger so that her nipple came forward, begging to be sucked, even bitten, anything! The more Vern pushed on her knee, the harder John squeezed, the wider Vern opened her mouth, the more tongue and spittle she received from that dynamo.

"Baby," he'd interjected, as if so excited he could no longer hold his tongue back, "I've had a lot of women, you know that; I'll be honest with you: secretaries, management people, lady execs, academics – a French teacher at Sorbonne to be exact – political chicks, but Vern, you're completely unique." Vern egged him, until he continued, "It's not just body, it's something about you, those… those eyes." That's when Vern realized that was her main weapon, drawing card, seducer, invoker, revoker, whatever the situation may call for. Some pash, she thought, but then she was overcome by what this man was doing to her.

John pushed her back on the seat until the back of her head rested against the window (she didn't even notice that the door handle had begun to dig into her back, indenting her otherwise perfect form). "You were born to love, Veronica," he'd said, "You're my baby, let me put my stem inside you all the way," he'd said, and then he'd said some weeks later, sorry Ron (Veronica was called by many a name, an advantage or disadvantage of polysyllabic nomenclature), the wife calls, and I'm getting too much heat. "But enough of this," Ron said to herself as she pulled against her couch – she'd write (right) the script now.

It was pure action in her mind's eye: she had her thigh pushing against John's cock with such pressure, that she began to think that his stem was penetrating her skin. The executive buried his face into her breast then licked, then licked the skin just above her nipple. Ron could feel her swollen nipples craving for man handling, and she felt the ecstasy of his tongue warming and seething her cherries. John managed to move his body (turning it completely around) so that he was now on the bottom, his long and lean form dominating the upholstery, gradually lubricating it with his rank yet manly sweat. The stud was able to position his lovely atop his form – which he negotiated by holding onto her buns and pressing her, almost wrenching her against his groin section. He cupped his fingers then pushed his pinky on Ron's dark, steamy underside, gradually moving forward until he reached her anus (was he unaware if he was coming or going?). But Veronica knew he was intentional in his obscene movement, and was even a little surprised at the pleasure he evoked in exploring her asshole. Pushing his finger up from the long slit between her buns, he settled in the triangular spot just above the crevice and pressed on her until Veronica almost laughed. Wrenching Veronica about on her side, then turning her over completely, the young woman lay with her ass perfectly positioned over John's cock. She could feel his stem settle into her crack. She could sense his heaving chest push against her own. She could sense his distended, huge balls push against her thigh, the prickly thin skin sending shivers straight through her spine and into her nipples.

Veronica kept finger fucking herself, kept orchestrating the pattern of her encounter. There was even dialogue: "Baby, you're the greatest. I want you all over all of your fucking gorgeous body."

"Do it, fuck me all the way."

"Ooh, yes, yes!" Veronica could see his eyes vividly, two fire balls. It was close now, dangerously so.

The young woman was writhing off her couch, falling onto the rug. Once again she could see her form in the mirror and before continuing her reverie, she spread her legs in order to view her pulsing pussy. She was a raggle, and knew it, an eye full of steamy, woman meat who could make any male lose his cool. Just look at that, she said to herself, narrowing her eyes, breathing even deeper – positively excited by the sight of her inner womanhood. Veronica thought fleetingly of literature – after all, she was an English major at Sarah Lawrence – of Fitzgerald's convoluted love affairs, of Hemingway's hunts and the desperation of Capote's characters in their sadistic and sexual longings. But when she looked right into the heart of that pussy, she knew that it all boiled down to that, the least common denominator, male and female meat.

"Cuntless women" – hah, thought Veronica, that can't be this college bitch. Veronica was captivated by her own body, by the convolutions of her steamy cunt, the folds of skin and the moist, glistening tissue. (We might add that as Veronica was known for her fantastic ass, and gigantic mammaries, her reputation had also risen in certain corporate circles for having exceptional vaginal lock powers. Her ability to open up, and then put on the steam – as some put it, the "clamp" – was almost uncanny.)

Just then the saucy lady realized she'd been neglecting her essential accessory, the piece of equipment which guaranteed her liberation from male domination. It lay on the table, virginal in status, yet expectant in condition. The broad turned the power switch then touched the top of the mechanism and was delighted with the resulting tingle. But even better than that was the fact that she could feel heat, quantums distinctly emanating from that phallic, as Ingmar B. would say, symbolska. Veronica put it against her heaving bosom, and loved it. Then she pressed it straight into her nipple. Dare she press further? She did. As a matter of fact, Veronica pressed the electric dick into her until the blood began to take its leave, and she began to feel pleasure degenerate into pain. She pressed harder, until she couldn't stand it, and only then did she have mercy and allow her breasts to take their original form.

When Veronica pushed the vibrator downward, below her pubic hair (it looked like some monstrous war machine plowing through guerrilla terrain as it parted her bushes) she could not help but think of John's magnificent cock. She was able to bring to mind that magnificent penetration. John hadn't been at all handicapped by the cramped quarters, spreading out and going to town as if in the most expansive of double, queen or king beds. After what seemed like an eternity of tit sucking, he finally released his grasp and lowered his head to her midsection, blazing a trail to the south with his probing fingers. Sniffing and inhaling extremely deeply, John the Con moved his nose through the pubics, obviously basking in the erotic itch created therein. Veronica remembered the ultimate pleasure of his hot, wet tongue, splitting apart her labia and entering the depths of her insides. As a bird flies, so did our Veronica, inhaling with total passion, exhaling in preparation for greater highs: sexual highs. As John pushed into her and continued to eat, he moved his hands upward until he was again atop her mountainous melons, until he was pressing against them which did nothing if not heighten her pleasure.

The girl was on the floor again, in the warmth of her studio apartment, with dildo in hand, yet she might as well have been in that car on that rainy eve, for that was where her mind (and cunt) was at. She couldn't forget that John had driven her mad with desire, especially by means of his genius for holding her off, making her ache for the real heavy action. After sucking her cunt, the man put his key in the ignition. "Where are you going?" our friend asked. The man answered they were in need of stimulation and proceeded to Pacific Grove, to a place with the most awesome view in the entire Cisco area. Without further exchange of words, he pushed Veronica almost against the window pane. John, holding his cock proudly upward, was able to penetrate in this manner, from the rear. (It had been a first for Veronica – she'd never even imagined a guy could get it that way.)

"One, two, three…" John said, "And here she goes!" – with that the stud shot deep within her, and even managed before shooting his wad to pull his cock out and cover her buns with his precious night juice.

Veronica lay in her apartment, spent but unspent, satiated but hot as hell, half cocked in the feminine sense. Well, not bad, she thought, I've got the throttle in hold this time, simple as that. The cock's completely under my control and I can drive myself as high, as far and as long as my little heart desires. Vern rose and looked in the mirror. She could tell she'd been through something. A few of her pubic hairs were pasted against her thighs. Several drops of sweat had formed in key places – her upper lip, under her breasts, between her legs just under the cunt.

The woman pushed her body against the mirror until her protuberances touched, forming a hot vision as if two nymphs were preparing to make it. Two huge nipples pulsing against each other; two palms stretching out making contact; and then, two ominous looking white dicks moving toward each other. Vern had to smile a little as she watched the vibrators coming near and then touch. Well now, you two look like you're quite the friends, quite the friend. But my story's not over, not just yet. Vern knew then that what she really wanted, what would make it all worthwhile was nothing less than a reenactment of her entire recent love life, from John on the entire macho repertoire. But this time there'd be a twist: a happy ending.

What will it be, thought Ron. Perhaps a ball with John, or maybe conjuring that hot party she went to in L.A., that den of inequity with all the drugs; hell, anything was available from hashish to hard acid. No, thought Ron, she wasn't quite through with John left. There was more to that story.

But Ron was a bit preoccupied at that moment by her own reflection. Who knows, maybe she was falling in love with herself after all, she loved her body. She liked carrying her weight, liked the way her skin felt all over. She even liked the manner in which her tits flopped against her midsection. But was that love? – she wasn't ready to ponder the imponderables.

You are one broad; she said almost out loud. At that point, she squeezed against the mirror, more effectively flattening her knockers than any of the inflamed attempts of the myriad of studs. No, she knew when, how and where to press. She'd never seen flattened nipples before and it fascinated her. Ron liked the way they became redder, right in front of her very eyes. She imagined they were two red eyes. They spoke to her. They told her she was one sexy bitch. "Oooh," she moaned – this time completely out loud. Ron could see that her breasts were spread out so that they bulged out her sides, two sacks of pleasure flesh, seemingly bursting out ward. Observing the top action, the woman suddenly wished she could stick her cunt on the reflector and have it come back at her. That was it; she wanted to be fucked by her own cunt (amazing what these electronic devices can do for a woman).

Ron felt the curve of her hip then pushed her hand around her front until her curly, dark pubic hairs were parted by the probing of her fingers. She wanted to be inside herself again, to finger fuck until her imagination would take over and bring her back to John.

How had she become so horny? Maybe it was her environment at work, the sterile contrast from her pastoral – intellectual life upstate in the East, maybe it was the fact she knew everyone in that insurance office had action on their minds. No, she'd never forget the first day on the job. Being attractive, standing out in more ways than one, she found every male trying to orient her with their foolish excuses. John had come in, asking if she knew where the water cooler was. He brought Ron over, then asked her out, just like that. He didn't believe in the old beat around, just right to the heart of the matter, as if he didn't want to waste his time by pecking up the wrong branch. Mr. Danielli, now there was a case. One afternoon Ron spied him in, to put it diplomatically, an excited state: "Please do not disturb" said the sign on his door, "disturb" (if your name is Veronica) maid the sign on his face. Perhaps he unconsciously left his door open, but for whatever reason, the crack was just wide enough for Veronica to get the idea. He was just sitting at his desk, arms wrapped around the back of his head, but protuberance clearly visible in his pants, just sitting there.

Veronica, Ron, Vern, as the case may be, was in a dangerous mood and simply rose out of her seat and knocked at the boss' door as she quickly improvised an excuse to break his little dream state.

"Oh, Miss Jenkens."

He was a touch surprised.

Vern looked down at him. Sure he was a bit hot with his cock between his legs and his hands in his pockets as if making a shrewd move of a cover-up. "Miss Jenkens, will you take dictation?"

"No, but I'll take a dick," she thought.

That's when she knew what the insurance business was all about.

Or, the first office party – holiday spirit and all that sort of thing, letting loose when the clocks are disconnected, a little raz-a-ma-taz and all that jazz. Not one of the execs was happy: that was the lesson. Vern soon came up with her own theory. The higher you go up the ladder of success, the worse the marriage. Jenkens law. Administrative assistant: "Hey, Vern, would you like to go out with me, I mean, just to get away from the office for the party, you know what I mean."

Assistant Vice President: "Miss Jenkens, I'm free tonight, this evening to be exact. How about coming around to my private apartment."

Vice President: "Fool around?"

President: no verbiage necessary.

And our friend Vern had gone the whole (hole) route. But more of that later.

For now, Vern confronted herself in the mirror, liking and positively turned on by what she saw. After all, she thought, I'm not a bad piece of ass. Vern slid down the edge of the mirror until her buns rested on the hard part of the floor where the rug ended but the wall did not begin. Nice, really nice, she thought. Vern didn't mind the hard, cold floor. Vern didn't mind being alone. Vern was a piece of ass.

Back in her car with her John, Vern's imagination was able to sequence the events with more detail. A simple ball was not the end of it and for that matter was not even the beginning of it. John had reached a height of passion he'd never experienced in the past. It got to the point where the stud couldn't hold his energy down. Slithering around the seat, he soon lost all restraint, digging his teeth almost painfully into our young friend. He worked his way down from her nape until he reached the lovely large part of her upper chest, just where her breasts began, the place which gets tan while the more scrumptious parts are hidden. He reached below that point, passed the Mason-Dixon dividing white from tan then made for the sure ground of her womanhood. Pushing her left tit upward, he made contact with an open mouth which was just able to take in the tip of the iceberg. He heard the girl moan and tried to take in more at the same time he readjusted his legs so that they were so intertwined with Ron's as to allow freedom to kick and cavort to taste. The rain began to come in torrents, smashing against the windows until it would have been impossible to see two feet outside (if they'd care to look).

"I'm gonna fuck you everywhere!" he groaned out. Vern noticed that the softest part of the sentence was "I'm" so she knew he meant business. She had to admit, he was the greatest ball to date, even if he wasn't a top-level exec (small chickens actually, middle management).

Vern felt his hands move in fast motion from the front of her chest, down below her navel and through her mat to the slit below. The man opened her up as if possessed. She felt his hot, steamy breath go into her opening and penetrate her channels at the same time she was aware of the intensity of pressure around her neck. It was a trip to feel his man hands manhandling her delicate neck. She did have a delicate neck. It wasn't a scrawny neck, but it was a delicate neck, a feminine neck. He'd even told her she'd a nice neck, but she barely paid attention, so enraptured was she in carnal pursuits.

"Ravage me, go animal, go animal!" She'd said with more air than chords – or perhaps it was airy chords. She felt his hand move down and his tongue lubricate her already moist insides, his saliva mixing with her woman juices, creating an ambrosial fluid which John imbibed with greedy passion. Veronica almost wished she could go down on her own pussy, but aware of the impossibility of the fantasy, settled for some nice thick cock – he did have an exceptional cock.

Veronica knew it was a natural high – no drugs, nothing artificial except that big, manly body. He was a specimen of a man: big, thick thighs covered with black hair; swollen, distended balls, and an Olympian cock; to say nothing of his massive shoulders and a chest which resembled a rain barrel – after The Flood. He was all hers too, or at least that's what she thought at the time, a prospect, a fancy, a desire which satisfied her enough at the time.

She knew the stud was about to come when he started to grind his teeth (a tip she'd picked up in a powder room a long time ago – one of those drunken affairs when the ladies, especially the older ones, start babbling about the mouth). When the teeth grind and a man starts to sweat in funny places (like the upper and lower lip, or the navel) then there's no two ways about it: prepare for the explosion.

Veronica knew this would be heavier than anything she'd known previously, so she wanted to draw it out as long as possible, a strategy which could work for or against her depending on the disposition of the man and the condition of the woman. In this case, all factors clicked in the right direction. Taking the aggressive, Ron pushed him up until he was fairly sitting on her thigh. In any case, she could now see the entire scene down there and fixed her gaze on the bottom of his shaft. He was pumping so hard now (didn't even seem to notice when his legs fell off the seat and he was kind of half standing on the rug) that his cock penetrated and then was released until it was half visible, before taking advantage of the return ticket, given the special excursion rates. She'd never seen a cock as thick or sure. His scrotum became visible given the various angles associated with his thrusts, a fine hunk of well spread thick skin. Veronica went on to do something she'd never negotiated, never cared to. She pulled and yanked at his buns and then slid her finger between them until she could feel his ass heat. She could feel the slightly harder textured skin inside the fold and delighted in the manner in which his buttocks tightened as she felt him up. She knew he didn't particularly go for her exploration. But what the hell.

"I'm fuckin' you now little lady. I'm fuckin' you!"

"Let it go, spurt inside now, spurt again."

She realized just then this would be the big two. One had come not more than minutes earlier. What was it with men, anyways? Some acted like they'd just climbed a mountain after coming, as if they needed a cooling out period – in the form of a cigarette, a trip to the john, a deep snooze, whatever. But this middle management type, this real John of hers, acted like he wanted more, and at that point, she guessed she might be able to squeeze another round out of him, a potch on the ass and he'd be hers for the night.

The closer John came to come, the more he dribbled from the mouth. "Baby, you're the greatest, the best around," he blurted in between a feel on the belly and a caress to the tit. John moved down and pushed her body to an angle until he felt just the proper angle and pressure against his man stem. "Yeah, baby, oh… ah!" he ejaculated. "Oh," he panted, "I knew the moment I saw you behind that slectric that you had this kind of stuff in you, the way you held yourself baby… class, real class." He didn't care that Veronica was hardly listening. He didn't care that it was raining, that the mud surrounding the wheels outside could trap them for the night and ruin the Thursday morning (supposedly back on the job). He didn't care at that point about the tell-tale lipstick on his face, or the nail marks on his back, or the assorted hickies from his buns to his blade. "FUCK ME BABY, FUCK ME ALL THE WAY!"

"Come on me."

"Wha…"

"That's right, come on my stomach." That's the way Ron wanted it. She didn't know why. She didn't care why.

"You sure you want it that way, Ron?"

"I rarely make a mistake when I'm feeling this way."

"Here it is." He took it out. "You like that, you like it, don't you?"

Ron looked at it, enraptured. She liked it.

"I like it."

"I know you like it."

She looked at the way a few drops of jism lay on the tip, like they escaped or something. She looked at how it was beyond red hot and was crimson hot, purple. Shhh… long, she thought, and almost giggled. But she stopped in time to see his final preparation heave, a massive constriction of his entire form, followed by a reddening about the face, an increase of blood pressure, all punctuated by a fantastic groan: "Agghh… oh, oh OH!"

He came like lightning, all over her stomach, in fantastic spurts which reached all the way up to her breasts. She'd never felt like such an animal and even in college days would have been turned off by her own behavior, but there was no stopping her at this point. Opening her mouth all the way, she pointed his penis her way and managed to score, right into the orifice. It was salty, and creamy, and viscous, and bitter all at the same time. She couldn't remember anything as tasty, anywhere and she was aware this was the kind of thing a man doesn't forget.

"I'm still on," she said.

"You bitch, what is this? I come twice and you act like you've had a date with a hairy banana. You must be kidding."

"No I'm not kidding." Then Vern doffed her panties from around her ankles, took her leave, and ran into the rain.

It was cold, but not that cold. Nevertheless, the stud yelled out, "You're crazy!"

A moment later they stood side by side, drenched to the bone, but their enthusiasm squelched not a bit.

Ron continued her dildo action on that Friday evening, warm and comfortable. It was almost better than the real thing, she thought as she began to slide the unit into her slit. Slowly she moved up her thighs, feeling the drops of woman juice which persisted along the white, smooth sides. Feeling the cold floor begin to dig into her buns, the woman rose and jiggled over to the rug. Ron could feel the rug dig into her as she prepared for her buscar. She fell downward, putting her hands in front of her mammoth breasts just in time to break her fall. Then she pulled her hands away, luxuriating in the feel of the rug strands adding to her jollity by pressing against nipple and tit. She even pushed herself into the rug, as if she were making love to it, as if it was alive and fucking.

Then Veronica turned around and sat on her ass as she looked at her reflection. "Ron, Vern, Veronica," she said loudly and distinctly, "you're one hell of a young broad." With that, she spread her legs into a "V" and then suddenly, violently, stuck that stick all the way inside. "Ooooh, ah," she moaned.

Gradually, she brought back the scene behind the car, the way John's hair was drenched and matted, the way her own dark locks stuck to her front, covering the tops of her breasts like a Haitian. She'd run from the stud; he didn't like that a bit.

"Come back here you bitch!"

"Come and get me!"

She'd run a good fifty yards before he overcame her. Ron looked back with amusement – his cock was still erect and slowed him and his distended balls were a little absurd jiggling like two sacks of potatoes. But it was a complete turn-on to Ron who immediately ran toward him and clasped her legs around his midsection, kissing him on the lips as hard as she could. They fell back into the mud and became filthy – two animals that they were. There was even a slight incline, and they tossed and turned all the way down, completely encasing their bodies in mud and slime.

"Bitch!" he yelled all the way down.

"You love it, you love it, company man!" He didn't have an answer to that one. "Now, now."

For at least the fifth time that day, John stuck his manhood as deeply inside her as possible. He could feel her vaginal walls parting to accommodate; he could feel her dynamite grasp (how she was able to tighten, especially in that atmosphere mystified him – talent, he guessed); he could feel her heave her breasts up almost into his face, a reminder of the full glory of her womanhood.

Drenched, but not cold; dirty, but not dampened in spirit, the couple copulated without a care or a thought that they might be observed or their energies could be excessive. "You're excessive," she told him as a bait. He ignored her, and if anything increased the strength of his thrusts.

Harder, faster he thrust into the woman, almost with a vengeance. Ron grasped at the weeds which surrounded her, the pivoted her hips in such a way that she was able to push upward until she succeeded in lifting John's form, a form whose apex was his manly ass. She tugged, pulled, yanked at his buns until the rains could pour into his asshole, then she pushed him flush against her own loins, hip against him, cemented. What followed was the greatest orgasm she'd had anywhere. Not even an orgy at school came up to this kind of satisfaction. It might have been the added excitement of the rain, the sensual drenching of the cold, dirty water which engulfed them mercilessly.

We may observe our Veronica, lying on her own floor, the buzz of her pleasure stick a low hum, her lights turned low and the sweat of complete concentration beading on her upper lip as on a workman. We may venture a guess that she had a good thing going, and be on sure footing.

Veronica slowly rose to gather her senses and take a stab at the situation. Let's see, she thought. I've got an entire weekend and one love life to review – that should be simple enough. She made up her mind: a dirge, a marathon (sexathon), a situation of please do not disturb, for there was a relationship to draw with John, but this ending, the ending in her mind's eye (which was as real as any if it could get to her cunt) would be far better than actuality: she'd add her own twist.

CHAPTER TWO

Veronica had a party to go to. After all, that was in the script, the course of events with her friend John, the turnface before the turn of face, another move of prince charming before he got around to detail his marital status and the resulting connubial confiscation.

This party would not be difficult to remember: it wasn't that long ago, but something about the atmosphere cemented the whole thing in her mind. A few twists and turns and the vibrator and she'd be in the middle of it once again, making time, getting soused or stoned (the customer chooses), and generally reaping havoc on an otherwise affluent and sturdy beach house.

It wasn't her first orgy but it was her first first-class orgy. What actually happened was most unfortunate in that, Vern had got cold-feet and didn't participate. Okay, she's been new on the coast, and it all was a bit much for her to take in one big slice, especially when doled out by as aggressive a stud as John. But now was her chance to rewrite the script, to fantasize and make it happen all over again, but this time really happen, not just booze and talk.

She began to create the story, half fact but more fiction, beginning her thought in the tub, drenched in bubbles and warm water which softened her skin a gave a pink glow to her cheeks and tits. Vern took the soap and stuck it into her cunt, first halfway and then all the way in, until she began to moan and get into the mood.

She saw herself enter aggressively and be confronted by a room full of hot studs and maidens. John's eyes almost popped out of his head. Veronica pictured at least ten guys and dolls, half of them topless, the other have sporting alluring brassieres and bikini underwear. It didn't take long to get things started. Like the Red Sea, or a communal meeting house, the party divided in half, and Veronica chose her group, disappointed but going along with her plan.

There was something new in all of this: girls. Veronica had thought about if before. She read widely. She was aware of certain literary circles in which lesbianism was accepted, or for that matter knew of its implications in the feminist movement. She'd probably been approached for that matter, sure Rose Knollwood in the office, with her heaving bosom, who always stood just a little too close and was always asking Ron up to her room for a drink. But somehow this wouldn't be quite so kinky. The presence of men made it a-okay.

One of the men left, and eventually a foursome was left in the bedroom, two mammoth women, and two extremely well-hung men. The studs had the women lay back on their back, then each concentrated on one and stripped to taste, which is to say nakedness. Vern couldn't help in her imagination, as she sat there steaming in her tub, comparing her own assets with the other broad. One thing was certain: they were both stacked, stacked as hell. It was hard to tell who was larger, but Vern had an idea she was a bit firmer, possessing better muscular support (and she knew guys really went for that).

Suddenly, Vern decided to orchestrate the scene by accelerating the pace. The two studs got on the bed, lowering their shorts: both were large, almost gigantic. What had really happened was that Vern joined a couple of women who had cold feet and never got to see these cocks, although she could have bit her tongue for being such a prude later that night. Now, she'd make up for past frustration.

Ron imagined some positions. Sam – the tall, blond guy – decided to help her and Cecile get acquainted so he pushed their bodies first on the side and then together. It was the first time Ron even thought of such a situation, and she imagined it to be nothing less than fantastic, the feel of woman tit pushing against her own, the hard nipples digging into her own cherries, and the fantastic, smooth legs entwining around her own. "Oh, yes, yes," she said out loud, "push those things into me."

"Why not give her a little body rub," Sam suggested.

Ron was rising out of the tub and already drying herself with a terrycloth as she imagined what it would be like to give a job to a broad like Cecile. I know, she thought, I'd start on her back and then make my way around the front, first kneading her around the back of the shoulders and then pressing into the flesh of her back. I'd move down, all the way down, to the beginning of her ass and then I'd shamelessly rub her buns. Then I'd start at her ankles, moving my way up to the calf, the inside of her thigh, and I'd stop just below her cunt to make her ache for it. I'd keep rubbing, stopping at the sides of her breasts and making her ache for it.

Ron decided to make the scene happen in her trusty imagination.

"Turn over," she said to Cecile. Cecile graciously obliged, exposing her two huge, titan tits, which seemed to be the very center of her entire body. Ron could hardly hold herself back, but she knew that half the fun was the tease. Her tactile titillation grew to a new plane of excitement as she worked her way down from Cecile's shoulders and pounced on her tits. The glorious splendor, the sumptuous epicureanism, the boundless hedonism was almost too much for Ron to take, but her mind's eye was not about to mitigate a full frontal attack, an attack on tit, on nipple, and finally, juicy, throbbing cunt.

"Feel them, feel them all over," Cecile begged. A tall woman – generously stacked and big-boned – she seemed to dominate the entire area over which she lay. Ron imagined her to be even more impressive than herself, more of a temptation to their masculine audience, a duet of spectators holding themselves back with decreasing success. Ron felt the erect left nipple, then bent down until she was able to touch the teat with the tip of her tongue, a delicate, tingly sensation, a nerve impulse beginning at the point of inception, traveling up the spine, and ending up in the pleasure center deep within convolutions of gray matter. As Marv and Sam resorted to tooth grinding, fist clenching, hyperventilation and other tricks of the celibacy trade, so Vern continued motions created for the sole purpose of tricking up the tricks – and our young lady was quite successful, you may believe that. "Suck them, suck them!" Vern's newly found friend began, "I want you to ravish me, ravish my knockers!" Quick to oblige, Vern dug her teeth right into the womanly flesh. "Oooh," Cecile moaned out in pain-pleasure. "More, more!" Vern positioned herself on the side with efficacy until her arm reached entirely underneath Cecile until her fingers coyly emerged around her side and made their way up the side of the woman's tits. Then Vern looked down, and much to her pleasant surprise, was rewarded with an eyeful of pussy.

She looked inside Cecile with wonder and lust: wonder-lust. The hair on her vulva formed a neat triangle, formally truncated at the tip of the slit, making the crack all the more clean, all the more tempting. Veronica wanted to enter the lass with her tongue, or with her fingers, or with her hand, or with anything attached to her own body and able to send sensations into her skull. Veronica moved her hand lower at this point, right down under her friend's buns. The trick, of course, was to inconspicuously negotiate a full frontal assault into that slit and get a portion of a shiny lubrication which was all but too visible.

"Go inside the bitch," Marv blurted, no longer able to contain his aggressive proclivities, "Feel that woman's buns and finger her. Finger fuck her!"

"That's right," Sam followed. In an echo of Marv, he added, "Get inside of the coquette, all the way." He fell back against the wall, then slid down until he landed on his buns, his pants betraying a give-away bulge.

Or at least that's the way Veronica composed it in her mind's eye.

As Vern moved her hand under Cecile's buns, as Vern continued to squeeze the woman's tits, so the men's temperature continued to rise. Marv moved forward. Sam held him back. "Hey," he whispered, "you know the more we wait, the hotter we get. That's the entire secret."

"Yeah, but enough's enough." His comment was punctuated by groans from Cecile, and encouragement from Veronica.

"Hang in there good buddy. Stay with it. I won't steer you wrong." The truth of the matter was that Sam was every bit as hot as his friend Marv, but Sam was more a master, more a sensual expert. Sam knew how to hold back his goodies, and for that matter had a reputation in certain circles for his magnificent, almost uncanny ability to hold back. Now, we're not talking about coitus interruptus, or other such artificialities. We're talking brass tacks in and out retention.

Veronica finally moved down to Cecile's lower portions, first licking the woman's belly, then approaching her pubic hairs. Kneading the flesh in her hand, abandoning the woman's great knockers in favor of the treasures below, Vern began to lick the curly hairs. They tasted salty and sweaty but at the same time strangely sensual – as if composed of some secret sex recipe. Veronica licked the hairs, first gently, then passionately; pushed her hands around the woman's hips, pressing the skin inward, kneading it until it turned a faint shade of pink; moved her face lower still, until she was just about at Cecile's slit and finally – after pausing to listen to the woman's groans of pleasure – decided to get down to the really heavy stuff.

"Do it to her Vern, all the way!" one of the men urged.

At that point, Vern stood, acutely aware of the weight of her own bosom which stood firmly in front of her chest (a fantastic sign of her sensual powers). She shook her breasts proudly until they jiggled like Jello. This especially got to Cecile who spread her legs even wider in order to accommodate any eventuality.

She looked down at the woman below, a fantastic example of feminine desirability. Cecile lay on the floor now, propping herself up by her hands ever so slightly. Her buns pressing against the white rug, her hands digging into it, she allowed her legs to part just enough to expose the full glory of her pussy. She knew she would get hers soon. And she did.

Vern delivered the goods just as she promised them, vivid, sensual, filled with delights. She lowered her head for the assault, first grabbing on two knees (one for each hand) then pressing upward toward her destination. As her lips approached the honeybox, she was aware of greater olfactory stimulation, a heavenly mixture of sour, sweet and goo.

Vern imagined how she lowered her head right in to the pussy, her own hair mixing with the woman's pubics, her lips finally touching upon Cecile's pulsing pussy. The imbroglio of her desires were now out in the open and acceptable – to herself, to her broad, to her men, to all. Stroking the inside of Cecile's thighs, Vern moved up with her tongue and lips until she tasted woman juice. "Oh, yes," she heard – encouragement accrued from all mouths in the room.

Vern dug all the way in and could see the vaginal walls clearly. She could smell the fragrances, and feel the slimy texture of wet, hot womanhood. She could sense Cecile's ultimate pleasure as her temperature was heightened to stratospheric pro portions. Embroiled in rising passion, the two women were aware at any second their homo action could be made hetero action an exciting prospect, a prospect they wished to facilitate.

Within seconds of Vern's daring tactile penetration, Marv could no longer hold himself back. Cecile saw his presence; Vern felt his presence: a huge cock brushed against her lower back. She could feel the throbbing heat of his member stroke against her and then she had to cry out at the fantastic sensation of his warm palms cupping her huge, distended breasts. He squeezed her melons fervidly, passionately, until she wanted nothing but his big, manly cock all the way inside of her. She wanted him to fuck her, fuck her as she fucked Cecile. "Do it to me, fuck me with that cock of yours… it feels so good!" – she knew this could only encourage the man. Within seconds, she felt his cock move down toward her torrid sections.

Picture this, if you will. Veronica stoops on her knees, her ass up in the air, her head pushing down towards Cecile's cunt, her arms pressing against the woman's thighs. Cecile is groaning and her mouth is open. Veronica's mouth is likewise open, yet her tongue pushes out and strokes the woman's most delicate parts: her labia, her clit, the top of her vulva. Concurrently, our friend Marv has managed to push his stem between Vern's buns, his long member sticking forward, then resting against the crevice of her anality. Sam watches this but is unable to hold himself back for long and is moved to the scene, yet is momentarily stuck on which way to turn. After all, what a sight is there to behold: a broad, another broad, a man atop the two, straddling two worlds but conquering both. Yet, being resourceful, he decides upon the unconventional yet effective approach over the top of Cecile's head (remember it is slightly elevated due to support from her palms) until he is able to straddle her. He allows each of his feet to lie on each of the sides, then sits until he feels heavenly tit-flesh under his buns. Sensitive to his relatively massive weight, he lowers himself only enough to feel the full sensation of hot, erect nipple. His hands – in the meantime – begin to explore the convolutions of Vern's tits.

If you can picture this, you have an idea of the scene created in the mind of Veronica that Friday evening.

Veronica knew she was onto something big. Momentary respite created as she looked down at her dildo, she observed how it shined with her own lubrication. Vern stuck it inside her cunt yet another time and basked in pure sensation, divorced from fantasy. It was sheer delight, a magnificent sex high. Vern looked at her reflection as she stooped. She could see her tendons tighten, her pectorals strain and her thighs bulge outward as she at tempted to negotiate the widest possible split while stooping. She tickled her outside area with the tip of the electric cock, then began to penetrate. She could see a circle of flesh materialize around the dildo as she moved it inward. First it looked like a rim, then a crimson circle around the white cock, a full form of white heat. "Ooh," she moaned out in pleasure. But she had to get back to her little party – a party based on a real happening, but made fifty times more enjoyable in her imagination.

Marv and Sam were both flying in full form. Splitting occurred, as Marv grabbed hold of Vern's shoulder and turned her about, rolling onto the floor. It was just the two of them for a while. "I'm going to fuck you until it hurts," he said. He grabbed her tits, then blurted, "They're so big, so fucking big." Complimented, Vern offered her tits in present form, holding them upward to the man so that he could sample them in full glory. He kissed the top, where her massive cleavage began; then he moved lower, rapidly approaching the torrid zone of nipple; finally, he settled upon the cherries, licking them, sucking them, pinching them between his front teeth, then pushing them into his face until it looked like he might suffocate. "No danger of me choking in this bounty," he reassured her. Not that she was afraid for his safety, but it was nice to hear he was still kicking under all that flesh.

Meanwhile, Sam was giving the business with his match: he was feeling oral on this particular occasion, so he initiated some fantastic mouth action. His broad locked him between her legs, squeezing him around the middle until he almost begged her to stop, but decided against it. Sam started Frenching with her, opening her lips with his tongue, penetrating inside her mouth, merging his spittle with her own. As he cupped her huge tits in his hands, he began to inhale so deeply that he could observe her cheeks become concave from the pressure of his wind. Then he moved downward to her chest and took one nipple between his lips, then the other, then back to the first one. "Blow me," he said finally, "blow me right now Cecile." Cecile'd been thinking that very thing, so she positioned her body in advantageous posture, preparing her lips by moistening them with her tongue.

"You sure you know what you're getting into."

"Oh, I think I can handle your hot lips."

"Hot lips yes, but there's more with it." She liked acting mysterious like that.

Cecile suddenly took the tip of his cock between her lips – just the tip.

"Ooh, ah, yes, yes!"

Sam's groan was so intense, Marv couldn't help but notice. "Hey, what do you two have going up there?"

"This lady's dynamite," he responded.

"Well, just you be sure to leave a little for me."

"Come now, two friends never let a great pair of lips mess things up."

"Cryptic, aren't we."

"You know what I mean." But Sam was already getting too hot to keep talking. He looked down and saw that the broad was now taking more of him in side her lips, until she suddenly had him almost entirely within. "Baby, that's it, that's the way." Sam actually managed to reach a bottle of booze which was within arm reach. His senses were bombarded as he took a long swig of whiskey. Veronica liked that, liked that little touch she'd added to her little masturbatory creation of a party. Why not, for what is to stop a guy from guzzling anything at all – or doing anything at all – while some broad went down on him?

Sam began groaning so loudly that the other couple interrupted their own action to witness. Veronica could hardly believe how the broad took so much cock into her. She looked with delight as she relinquished her hold on the wet, hot cock – she could see the throbbing vein on the underside, the crimson tip, and the opening on top which dilated and became smaller, almost as if it were breathing. Then, she miraculously took it back in, little by little, farther in, amazingly deep. When it seemed as if it wasn't possible for any more of the member to disappear, it slid deeper still – inch by arduous inch, half-inch by half, quarter by quarter.

"Oh baby, oh baby," he groaned out.

"Suck 'im, suck 'im!" Marv ejaculated.

That's when Cecile began to apply the pressure. She apparently did this by inhaling through a corner of her mouth, then closing it air-tight which aided her sucking. Sucking created suction, and suction drove the man crazing until he was begging for mercy: it was almost too much for the man to take. Veronica was fascinated by the member, the way it moved in and out of Cecile's mouth. She wanted to get in on that kind of action: suck action. She wanted to feel that throbbing vein, to lick the sweaty underside of his balls, to move her fingers up the entire length of the shaft until she could almost sense the sperm moving up his inner tubes.

Veronica imagined that she might as well learn from such a show and give her own guy some of that kind of stuff. She had Marv (whose eyes were already popping at the thought of getting similar treatment) lie on his back. Then she placed a pillow under his buns. "Here," she said, "just lay that under your manhood." It now appeared that the center of his very being was his genitals – his cock sticking proudly up like a flag pole, his balls hanging swollen and limpid – genitals which were ripe and ready to be manipulated and woman handled. Veronica didn't know where to begin and just hesitated for a second in awe. She didn't know why, but she was tempted to pull on his cock and almost lift him up as if it were some kind of handle, or better yet a leash. But enough of this, she thought: no time for nonsense, just heavy action. Vern knelt over the man and started to rub the skin around his pole. First she ascribed long circles with wide arches all around the top part of his cock where pubic hairs matted above and waited for brushing; then she moved to the opposite side under his thighs where his balls brushed and created slightly pink marks. "You're going to love this," she said, "I know you're going to love this." For a split second she thought of John – but there was no way that he could be having half-way as good a time as she was in the other room; anyway, she didn't have to let him; it was her fantasy.

Veronica began to lower herself in for the kill, like a great female animal ready to pounce. She was stanching out, all right, strutting forward and positioning her tits to add to the excitement. "Suck it, suck it," he almost begged.

Veronica looked down on her object – a hairy bobo if there ever was one. She grabbed on the base of his cock and could immediately feel the torrid heat. "Oh, oh, that's very nice, a nice hot cock." He liked that, liked to have her comment on his manhood (and what man wouldn't when confronted with a sort of ideal womanhood ready to go to any lengths to please him) and he nodded in approval. Vern lowered her lips to the very tip, the very apex of his penis. She knew that was the tender spot, and that the way she handled it could mean the difference between merely a good and a positively great lay, the kind that a man uses as a measuring stick for all other lays after it (Oh, that was okay, he might think, but nothing like the way this girl I once had knew how to do it).

Vern touched the tip with her tongue and could almost feel the abrupt beginning of his hole. Then she took her right hand and squeezed the cock very tightly, until it looked as if she was driving the blood into the tip of his penis – which was rapidly turning burning, almost dangerously red.

"Too much. this is fucking too much!" he blurted. Vern knew that was as good as an endorsement, as good as a fucking vote, as good as a unanimous decision, as good as a fucking mandate, to continue and even dare to go beyond this point. Meanwhile, Sam and Cecile were becoming interested, aware that something special was in the works, cognizant that they were witnessing a novel act – and that's the way Veronica wanted it in her imagination. Now that she had the dildo, and the smarts to compose such a scenario, she wanted to go all the way with it. So, she imagined taking that thick, manly stem in her hand, and then in both hands, and pumping it until she had him dangerously close to spurting in her face.

"Easy baby… easy," he pleaded, "I mean, you don't want me to shoot my wad too soon now do you." He looked up with big dilated eyes, drawing in air through his heavy, masculine, hairy nostrils.

"No baby," she countered. "That's not the way I want it." Knowing he was now grateful, as well as lustful, he was hers to play with as she wished. "Think it's time for a little meal," she said. Then Veronica looked at a glistening drop of come which had somehow escaped onto the tip of his cock, just sitting there awaiting some move. Vern thought she'd like to taste it on her tongue. Vern thought she'd like to swallow it. Vern thought she'd like to use it as an appetizer for what would be coming later in bountiful gobs. Sam and Cecile were just sitting there now, taking it all in. Sam was whispering to Cecile something about how quickly Veronica seemed to learn her tricks and then Cecile responded something about how the girl was no youngster just out of Iowa or nothing of the kind. They knew they were dealing with a hot cunt – or that's the way Vern had it in her imagination (the old mind's eye) anyways.

Veronica took the top of his penis in her mouth and instantly tasted the pungent sensation of his jism – or at least the tiny drop of it – right in her mouth. Shit, she thought, if one drop tastes this fantastic, imagine what the whole package is! But Veronica soon became to preoccupied with her task for such pondering. She liked the audience, too. It made her the center of attraction, a new kind of sex queen, to be envied, desired. She knew that Marv wanted her – the way he looked at her breasts, the way he seemed captivated by the way she moved, the way he watched her buns so intensely, all tipped her off that he'd like to get off on her.

After bringing Sam to the point of coming by a fantastic hand job, she decided to bring him the rest of the way via a mouth job. Slowly she took the shaft into her red, hot mouth, careful not to catch his skin in her teeth, delicately bringing it in to maximize pleasure and minimize anything which isn't pleasure. She had become the bursar of pleasure and knew it; the collector of the port of passion.

Sam began to squirm because he was so excited. He looked as if he were prisoner of his own passion, hips thrust up, back arched, his genitals handled by a stacked broad: "Make me shoot," he whispered in her ear. "Come on baby, you've been taking me to the edge, but a man can't hang there forever. Have a little mercy, girl. Do it, do it." Veronica loved this, loved it because something like this had never in reality happened, but now with her almost magical dildo, with vivid imagination and relentless lust, she was making it happen, painting her own erotic pictures.

"You'll get yours, Sam, don't you worry."

"Now baby, now!" He looked her right in the eye, desperate, "Fuck me, fuck me!" – he was almost out of his mind with passion.

"Come on Veronica," Marv added, backing up his buddy, "give the guy a break. Shoot his wad; now's the time."

But Ron was not to be swayed. Even Cecile couldn't help.

"Come on baby do it to him."

"Look, I'm running this little affair, just little old me." She could see that the were all enjoying her little ploy at domination, that it seemed to add an extra erotic layer to the entire orgy.

"Why you little bitch," said Cecile in mock rage. Then she grabbed Veronica by the shoulders and wrestled her to the floor. Nothing could have been more enjoyable to two guys whose cocks had been played with until they were nearly insane and wanted nothing less than to be brought to an even more intense level of passion. The men watched in hot awe as Cecile proceeded to mount a struggling Veronica. They loved Vern's moves as she at tempted to pry the body which had mounted her own loose. They loved to see her push her form out ward until her breasts looked like two mountainous spears which dared Cecile to grab them. Yet Cecile was just as daring and desirous of turning the match into a little more than pure innocent play-acting. With a twist of her neck, she bit Vern just above the nipple, and pushed the woman's breasts painfully together, then more painfully apart. That's when Vern had positively had enough of such nonsense. In an impressive feat of strength Vern turned the tables by ramming her adversary's head against the foot of the bed, then pinning her against the bed post, and finally going straight inside the broad with two fingers. In and out she pushed, because her intention was to make this broad come, make this broad come as sure as she was being defeated. Harder and faster she pushed. "Stop, stop," Cecile begged, but to an avail.

"How does this feel, huh?" – then Veronica pushed her tits into the woman's face.

"Oh, Vern, yes, yes…" She just kept repeating the affirmative.

Veronica had the entire scene orchestrated, the blow jobs, the wrestling match, the fervid pitch, the hot atmosphere, the obscene tone.

But show – as tempting, as erotic, as highly explicit as it may have been – did nothing to help the two studs unload their jism, for as heavy as the scene had been, no one had yet peaked with a big "O" including Veronica. I want to come, one thought; I need it thought another; damn, I wish that broad would go all, all out, thought another. The climax approached rapidly, and the men knew that now that the short wrestling exhibition had terminated, the sperm show would commence: it was just a question of who would be the first.

Vern knew what she wanted: she wanted to have a handle on both of those cocks simultaneously. Vern approached Marv, then Sam. She looked at Cecile and got the a-okay (after all, such a show would be dynamite simply to witness).

Suddenly, Veronica was back in her room, the scene completely disintegrated under the onslaught of her telephone. The piercing ring almost sent her up the wall and she ran to answer it in order to shut it up.

"Yes," she said, clearly annoyed.

"Hi, Vern, listen this is Jim from the office."

"Oh, hello, Jim," she replied without a trace of enthusiasm.

"Listen, I was wondering if you'd enjoy catching a movie and dinner with me tomorrow night – I'm sorry about the late notice but I thought I'd be out of town."

Vern didn't even have to consider: not this week end. Nothing mattered outside of her own private, manufactured sex high.

"No, I'm sorry Jim, but I'm afraid I already have plans."

"Well, just taking a long shot."

After Veronica returned the phone, she realized she had something extraordinary; without any difficulty at all, she returned to her party. Within seconds, she could picture Marv and Sam and Cecile. Deciding she'd disciplined Cecile enough for one party, she motioned for Sam and Marv to approach.

She had them sit on the edge of the bed and positioned herself in the middle. Then, without a hesitation, she began to pump them, giving each equal time. She looked at Sam's face, then Marv; they were flying in the sky, no doubt about that. Each was beginning to flush, and their teeth were starting to show, gritted in positions of aggression. No vag, no wet smack, she was the life of the party. Her rapacious appetite knew no limit, and she wanted more as she felt each shaft get harder. The men began to moan and she could feel them squirm. Cecile was almost a one woman rooting section as she made no qualms about her interest (her very eyes were bulging as she sat on the edge of the large bedroom chair).

"You've got us where you want us baby: go all the way!"

"Do it to them!" Cecile added.

Then it happened. Vern could feel their cocks expand in one final effort, stretching their volume almost beyond the limit in the all-out effort to shoot come.

"Aggh!" moaned out Sam and as if by chain reaction he was followed by Marv. Instantly come shot up and was pointed at Vern.

Cecile had to come over to get at some of that action. She pointed Sam's cock up toward her mouth and managed to get several squirts. Sam watched with delight as she swallowed some, and proudly wore a few drops on the edges of her mouth. Veronica had her fill also, wallowing in the viscous juice.

What really happened that night, was poor Veronica had merely spoken with a few other shy ladies, anxiously awaiting John's return, painfully aware he was getting fantastic action. Vern knew now that her weekend fling would be nothing but her own creation here on in. She'd put John through all the things she dreamed of, but had only had the nerve to do just before he gave her the old hook. No, now a new stage would be set.

Veronica pushed the dildo further inside, then pictured John entering, just in time to see his date covered with wild come.

"Wha…" he exclaimed.

"Come now," Vern answered with impressive presence, "you must have had some idea what was going on. Listen John, I think it's about time that you and I got going, anyway. You know, the night's still young."

CHAPTER THREE

In actuality, John had taken Veronica home directly after the party – and barely willing to speak to the man – she told him not to call for a while (after all, she was given no warning she was being taken to an orgy, and no woman likes to admit she is capable of getting cold feet). But now things would be different. Dildo in hand, Vern began to paint more pictures, plan a scene which could make vivid her deepest, most important fantasies.

Veronica lost no time in constructing some fast dialogue, lines flying into her mind like sparks, one urging her to get the hell on the move, another encouraging some more subtle foreplay. But the central, organizing idea was a particular fantasy, a dream which she'd never told anyone about. The truth of the matter is that Vern – as many women of her approximate age and socio-economic class – had one special thing which could get her going like none other, a little quirk of mind, a pet perversion, perfectly suited to a spree with a dildo. You see, our Veronica had a special place in her heart (and more sensual parts) for the young, for fresh virgin (be it male or female) flesh. Now this is not the type of thing which is shared with a girl friend in a casual phone conversation ("Oh, hi Judy… what's new? Oh, I don't know, but I guess one thing on my mind is that I'd like to screw a few fourteen and fifteen-year-old guys – you know, the kind that are still wet behind the ears and have cocks which have grown faster than the rest of their bodies"), or shared with a date ("John, did I mention that though I'm really attracted to you, more than anything at all, I'd like to pick up a couple of high school studs, one blond with big muscles, another skinny and dark."). But this could only be a private affair articulated in her own mind, carried out either in complete secrecy or in the setting in which she now found herself. With lightning speed, she began to imagine the type of guys who would drive her to ecstasy for the second time this one particular Friday evening, serve as a follow up to Marv and Sam who had done quite a job on their own, fucking her cunt and driving her all the way home.

No, she'd seen the type of guy she had in mind one too many times, perhaps because of her younger brother, a bratty rogue who'd always bring his friends home and bothered her no end before she'd gone off to college. Troy, who knew he hadn't much on charm, almost seem to play up his lousy qualities to the hilt: he knew his sister liked privacy, he'd do his best to open her door when she was dressing; he knew she got bugged when he walked around nude, he'd shamelessly brandish his big cock as he'd walk to the bathroom; he knew she didn't like him to talk about her sex life with his friends, he'd loudly tell them about her latest fling (complete with the details of her endeavors on the living room couch). But when all was said and done, Veronica had to admit she'd been turned on by some of his friends. She'd watch them as they'd try to cool off in the yard, running through the hose in their little suits, readjusting their goodies when the material clung, lying on their stomachs in the sun, oblivious to the bulge in their pants. One of the guys, an exceptionally good looking junior high school student with too many pimples, especially appealed to her – especially when he tried to make conversation one day, almost choking on his own words.

Veronica had desired him that day several years ago and if she had the courage in those days would have seduced him behind the school or better yet, inside the little tool shed. She could imagine how it could have been: his skinny little body shivering slightly as he shyly asked what she had in mind. Oh, Veronica thought, I thought I'd offer you a little deal… I mean, all of us are in the same boat in a way. Have you ever thought how unfair it is that us kids don't get any real action. Oh, don't play dumb with me you little geezer you. I know you've got the hots for me. But listen, uh, I've got this little accessory here. That's right it's a rubber. From then on in, Veronica thought, it could have been easy. The glint in his eye, the bulge in his pants, the way he made no motion to take his leave or tried to stop her when she moved closer, all told that he wanted the action himself, possibly even worse than Veronica.

It was not a comfortable spot, but it could have done well enough, Veronica thought. She remembered there was a soft spot in the corner where there were a few old pillows conveniently strewn across the floor, and the pile of straw right near the lawn mower – dead, cut grass which could now serve as the perfect mattress. It would have been as easy as moving closer to the young stud and helping him master his fear, first by putting her hand on his leg and rubbing it about, and when he was used to that, moving on to even more fertile ground up on the upper thigh right under the crotch, rubbing the guy, who now, wouldn't make a move in the opposite direction if his life depended on it.

Veronica wished she had simply said to him: "I want you, all the way. I want to show you how to fuck." Sure, it was shocking, but he'd get over the bruskness when he felt her hand begin to grasp his cock, her breath bathing his face, and her lips approach his own. He'd get over everything when he realized that this superbly stacked broad was ready to take matters in hand and do the steering while he merely sat back and took it all in (or let it all out, as the case may be). Veronica imagined her excitement, fervidly wrenching his fly open, almost tearing the fabric of his jeans in her excitement and determination. She realized that the guy, a mere school boy, had probably never been blown – hell, he probably never had a girl touch his man parts before – and that this would be a big day for him. She imagined that his eyes would bulge, he'd attempt a slight mock resistance but then give into her aggressive moves which, though shocking at first, soon got to him.

Veronica put her hand on his jeans right over the bulge, feeling his body jerk up and his lips tighten, the red leaving in an instant. Oh come on, she'd tell him, don't be afraid now… because after all, you have to remember that all of this is the natural part of life, natural as walking. With that, she'd place his hand right on her breast and push it until she felt her nipple receded beneath the surface. You like that, she imagined telling him, I know you like that. Here's something I think you'll like even more. She quickly loosened the buttons of her blouse and pulled it off of her chest, revealing a white-cupped brassiere, a bra straining to do its duty and keep her womanhood from popping out, a task all the more difficult as the broad arched her back, loosened her shoulders until the straps fell down on her arms and threatened to fall from her body. She wanted the boy to strip her naked, topless, to prepare her for the real action: come on, she imagined, take off my bra and suck my tits, suck my big, fat tits.

Veronica became glazed as she thought through this little scene. The boy became brave and his youthful hands lowered her cups slowly, revealing her cleavage, then more cleavage, and in an instant removing enough of the synthetic to expose the very tips of her red, fat cherries. It seemed almost too much for the youth to take, who quickly stiffened and moved backward as if he'd just seen a treasure box filled with so much booty that it almost defied the imagination. She'd tell him straight out, suck it and lathe my tits until I cry for you to stop. Come on, don't be afraid! That's the way it could have happened, the feeling of his greasy adolescent wave stroking against her chest and his hot, syrupy lips go down on her knockers, his spittle seeping onto her all over, his long, spindly legs beginning to search out space between hers, his knee becoming his bravest body part and moving up toward her cunt. That's it, she'd encourage, that's the way to do it.

She'd kiss his lips, his nose and put her tongue in side the convolutions of his ear, until she could breathe right into his inside so that she sounded like a great ocean. She could hear the boy moan in deep desire, gritting his teeth and positioning his hips so that the broad would have easier access to his swollen manhood. Not so hard, is it, she'd reassure him, not expecting or particularly wanting a response.

She'd put her hand right under his jockies until his swollen, sweaty balls were in her palms and she was able to squeeze them to taste – squeeze them so that she could feel their soft consistency, and their heavy expectancy, filled as they were with hot, male come.

"Suck me, suck me!" he'd finally yell out in desperation. That's the way she liked her young studs, all hot and bothered and almost out of control in their desire, and yes, their dependency. This stud hadn't even had anything to drink – no scotch, no highball, no whiskey sour, no screwdriver – nor had he hit the weeds and pills – no downers, uppers, grass, hash, acid, nothing. Veronica leaned forward and gave him a body hug, pressing her tits into his chest, nearly driving him wild with pleasure, with the magnificent feeling of her breasts against him. He cupped them with his hand, twisting and turning the flesh, making the sides of her boobs pink and then red from the pressure of his lustful probing.

"Oh yes, rub them, rub them nice."

Encouraged, almost made with desire, the boy lowered his head and felt the left nipple with his tongue, turning his tongue, covering the cherry with his own saliva then sucking it into his mouth where he almost ate the organ, pressing into it with his teeth.

"You're too much," he added in between licks, thrilled with her form. My, he thought, there's nothing like this, fresh, solid, waiting to get it, waiting to get fucked even by a young, inexperienced cock like mine.

The boy took his hand and slowly slid it under the girl's waist band until he could feel the upper ridge of her panties, the band which hung several inches below her waist, then pressed his fingers against her abdomen – a white, smooth area which he wanted to bury his face in. But there were even greater pleasures below, and moving his hand lower as he took into his lungs breath mixed with the girl's own, he felt her pussy hair – thick, luxurious hair which curled and covered his fingers until they were almost buried in it.

"Lower, lower, go down lower on me until you stick your fingers in my cunt," she begged.

"You've got it baby," he answered, feeling older already, then made his words good, opening the lips of her pussy, pushing one, then two fingers inside until he could feel her inner organs, wet, juicy, a honey-pot of sex goodies. "You've got it baby," he repeated, feeling his cock grow even harder as he probed the girl's insides, making her groan with pleasure, making her beg for him to come inside.

"Listen," she whispered intensely, "Let's go over here where we can stretch out." She led the way, the boy watching her splendid ass, the swing in her hips, the incredible sensuality of her movements. His cock stuck proudly in front, a rammer of incredible proportions – six inches at least – a shaft which wanted more than anything to gain entry into that sweet woman, his balls hanging down full and swollen, his arms swaying at his sides as he increased his stride.

After a pause, the girl lowered her head, admiring the glans, the red rim around the top, the dark ring of skins below the glans, almost like a cock ring, the length of the proud shaft, the way it was slightly thicker at the base and hooked around the top, the way his balls hung underneath the cock, the way he looked, proud and tall. "Come on," he said, mustering his courage, "give it a good suck."

Veronica opened her mouth and put the cock in side, feeling the heat which radiated from it, almost burning into her like a furnace, like a sex furnace, filled with a heat which almost burned her mouth, then went deeper inside of her, down her pipes, into her inner depths. He started to undulate his hips a bit, to help her get more of his cock inside, to help her almost swallow it. He was amazed at the girl's enthusiasm, and, clutching at her shoulders, she was able to take the entire shaft until it disappeared entirely within her mouth before she released it, hot and glowing, covered with the saliva from Veronica's mouth.

He was so excited, he almost came, so he pushed back Vern in order to hold it in a while longer.

"Oh, kiss my tits," Veronica almost pleaded, "kiss them all over, cover them."

The guy leaned over her, then rested on his side, covering her upper stomach with his palm – which now sweated with desire – then pushing his fingers through her thick, brown hair. That's when, completely hot with passion, his cock just bursting at the seams, all the more straining enveloped in the rubber Veronica had slid on it, he slid his stem in side of Vern, slowly, relishing every second as he penetrated, taking in deeps gasps of air, his legs tightening and mingling with Vern's. Deeper he lunged, until he was inside, completely inside of her cavernous hole, buried in her pulsing pussy.

"Oh yeah, pump me harder, harder," she pleaded, her eyes closed and her brain swimming in passion, the passion of pure desire, of wanting her pussy fucked and his creamy jism shot inside of her hole.

"Baby, wait," the boy pleaded. "I'm gonna come; we better gear down." He took his stem out of her pussy, now wet with her pussy-juice, then pulled his body back and perched up on Vern's hips so he could get at her quim. She curled her legs around his back, pushing his head toward her until he only had to lower his head a few inches to slide his tongue inside of her pussy.

He began to taste her quim, salty, womanly, juicy pussy – the best combination of sensations he could imagine – then felt her thighs pushing against the side of his ears until he couldn't hear anything, only see her mouth open wide in a gasp of pleasure. He felt the heavy weight of her buttocks in his hands as he grasped them and looked at her huge mounds which were pushed up close to her very neck.

It was too much for the guy to take and he felt his jism rising in his balls and into the lower part of his cock, but not wishing to shorten the spree, he took his mouth out of her pussy, then lifted Vern's body upward toward his face so that he could give a little mouth action to her tits.

Veronica knew what he had in mind and immediately requested he go at it, pressing her tits together so they formed a massive cleavage. He buried his head between the spheres, then she pushed them tighter together, pressing into his nose and mouth, bathing him in her mammaries.

"Oh, baby, too much, too much."

"You like those tits, don't you… nice fat tits."

"Oh, baby," he said, "I want to eat those knockers, yeah, eat 'em up good."

"They're all yours."

"Man, when I used to serve burgers, I'd look at the girls, but I don't think any of them could have been like you."

Veronica could feel that she had the boy, completely swept him off his feet. She'd ride with this one all the way (at least in her mind) and might even see him again, fuck him again, suck him again and repeat all the ecstasy of this night. Compared with the other guys she'd balled he was pure stud: at least in the high school category.

"Come on boy," she urged, "fuck me again; I want your cock all the way in, all the way!"

"I can't wait any longer either; this is it, the big one."

The boy rammed his stem inside of Veronica, so hard and fast and sudden, that she opened her mouth wide, closed her eyes and cried out, "Oohh! Yes, all the way." – at least that's how Veronica wanted to imagine it.

Veronica kept her fantasy going, picturing the lad pushing from the hips, in and out, out and in, fast until his entire body was tight as taut rope, a dynamo of energy ready to explode in one great sex moment, the ultimate orgasm.

"Fuck me, fuck me," she cried out.

Images went through Veronica's mind; of guys running nude, five, ten, fifteen of them, their balls hanging down, their cocks proudly erect in front, all after her; of the sight of her teenager's cock right before she took it in her mouth; of the way his balls hung, heavy and swollen. She could feel his weight on top of her then, heavy and massive as it pushed against her lighter form, crushing her breasts, his hips digging into her own hips but because of his size, his head perched almost on top of her own so that he could dig his nose into her hair.

The boy was all the way in now, fucking her with everything he had, pushing his stem all the way in. Veronica's dark eyes almost rolled into her head, her long eyelashes battering away (a movement which she found especially alluring).

"Harder, faster," she pleaded.

"Baby, I'm going to fuck you like there's no tomorrow… oh, yes, it's coming, it's coming nice and hot."

Vern felt her body growing tenser, her entire body getting ready to lurch into the big "O" but she held back then managed to roll them both over so that she was on top.

"Oh, yes, yes," the boy said when he felt her body laying on his own. The boy pushed the recent graduate up and then pulled her legs on his sides so that she was sitting on him and she had him clamped in a torrid cock-hold. Her tits looked absolutely gargantuan, swinging wildly to and fro as she swayed her torso from side to side. He couldn't resist grabbing them, so, feeling her hold on his cock get even tighter, he grabbed her breasts and squeezed them – one in each hand – until she moaned out.

Faster and harder he pumped, making their pubic hair meet, then pulling it apart, sliding his cock almost all the way out to the tip, then thrusting it in with a savage fury. He was close, knew he was, but couldn't and wouldn't hold back any further.

The boy pushed his cock in, then, in one sudden burst of energy penetrated all the way, tensed and then exploded into an incredible orgasm: "Agghhh, oooh," he moaned in ecstasy.

Veronica was soon to follow, her body just as filled with the pleasure of the moment then climaxing until she felt her spasm come, a little later but just as intense as the boy's – a tightening of her entire body until she thought she would freeze like a log, then a melting until the connections of her brain were shot and her body spent of all energy – or that's the way she imagined it. But the amazing thing was, lying there, getting it on, she felt it just as intensely as if it were really happening.

But this guy was such a solid image, and such a fantastic fuck, that she wanted to take her fantasy a step further; stage two. She decided to be a little daring in her imagination, and take the young stud into her home. Well, it wouldn't be that crazy, because, after all, her parents were gone on a little trip, and there was almost no chance of being caught by them. She decided that she wanted more than any thing to take a shower with this young cock. She took the boy into her bathroom, then turned on the water – adjusting the water to lukewarm, then hot so that the bathroom would steam up – and then got under the water, her hair flattening against her forehead, her breasts shining from the water and her pubic hair matted against her crotch – like a thick, heavy rug cut in the shape of a perfect triangle.

Veronica imagined moving closer to water so that there was room for Ned behind her. But just then, the bombshell switched gears and decided to take a real shower. She dropped the dildo (knowing it could get clogged in the water) and walked into her bathroom. She turned on the water, just as she imagined doing it with the young stud, and felt the warm water pounce against her tits and nipples, making them erect and fat. It was even easier now to imagine the fun water games she could play with her young, hot stud.

Vern motioned for the guy to get closer and could see that he was already very excited, almost as hot as in their encounter in the shed – just as if he hadn't shot his wad just minutes before. In a few seconds, the boy slid his cock into her cunt, this time fucking her from the rear. The boy, feeling that slight ache in his cock which told him he'd just come, put his arms around the front of Veronica's body until he had perched her tits above them, then, lifting, his arms higher, he pushed her bosom higher still until the spheres were about at high as they could go.

"Yeah, feel my tits, feel my big tits," she moaned. He squeezed a little harder, until she groaned, then squeezed harder still until she pushed his hands downward in order to give her tits a breather.

Feeling an incredible surge of strength, hardly able to control the impulse, expanding his chest by taking great quantities of air the boy actually lifted her weight to settle down on his arms, allowing just enough of her weight to settle down on his cock. Veronica was so hot, she pushed against the tiles with all her might, screaming out, "Do it again, fuck me again, over and over, yes… yes… yes!"

Faster he pushed, harder, not holding back for a second.

"Okay, fuck me. Let it come!!"

But the boy had his own ideas, and he took his shaft out from inside Veronica, then turned her around until she faced him, her eyes and two red cherries staring him in the face, ready for anything he might choose to do.

He pushed her body down toward him until her massive melons were squeezed against his chest, then lowered her slowly and evenly until her bosom touched his cock, electrifying it as if by magic, making it get even more hard. She's one motherfucker, he thought, one helluva motherfucker, and I'm gonna cover that pair with some nice cream. He positioned his cock between the spheres, pressed them together and started pumping.

"Yes, fuck my tits, fuck them!" she encouraged, her body now supported by her knees, the boy standing well above her, his hands digging into her back in passion. "Yeah, fuck them, yes!" Veronica even stuck her own fingers in her cunt, making her own passion reach to a point nearing his, but of course, not quite. "I can feel it, yeah, that's it, pump some more." His cock was straining and his entire body was involved in the task of shooting his wad, then, right before he felt himself squirt, he moved back from the girl.

"Ohh, yea baby," he groaned between his teeth. He didn't have to tell her what he wanted. She just knew. Within an instant, Vern grabbed his throbbing pecker and stuck it right in her mouth, right before he came. His cream poured right out, all over Vern's lips, sliding down the sides of her mouth, but she loved it, loved to feel it and to even swallow it. Exhausted, he let his body slide down onto Veronica's, but she didn't mind a bit, loved feeling his weight over her own, feeling his cock slowly go limp, glistening with jism and encrusted with some of her own drying woman juice.

The water was still pouring down on the couple, Vern imagined, just as it was really pouring down on herself, cleaning off the boy's cock and washing the jism from her own lips, cooling off their heat.

Vern hadn't had enough of this guy yet, and was determined not let him go so soon. From his big, fat distended balls which drove her absolutely mad with passion; to his incredible schlong, so long and fat; from his marvelous legs, long hairy, not a little spindly; to his great buns, thin yet very touchable; he drove her absolutely mad.

Vern got out of her shower and thought how she'd like to end this little affair. Sure, she could merely bid him adieu, wish him luck and call that the end of it, but everything was so intensified now, and at the same time so simple. No, she would stretch this one a bit, get on with it and take this guy to the limits, even beyond what they experienced in the shed and in the shower.

"Listen," she imagined telling him, "why don't you just hang loose a little bit and rest up."

He looked a little concerned. "Oh, I don't know…"

"Don't worry, really. My parents are gone. There's no chance of being caught. And anyways, don't you want to prove to me that you can make it a third time around – I know you have it in you."

Veronica took the boy to the side and then wiped him off. She like wiping off his smooth back, moving downward to just above the she on his buns, then drying the crack in his ass before proceeding to the small of his back, around the front, and the best part, his crimson, swollen balls. Vern took the towel and then gently tapped the balls, patting them first very slightly and then more firmly until she could feel their distinct weight right through the material. Vern moved upward in order to get a hold of that stem – no longer erect, but still swollen and impressive in size, fronting his balls, seemingly growing out of his dark curly bush like some great branch with a fantastic budding head. Vern saw the skin begin to crinkle under her touch and enjoyed watching him, much against his will, becoming excited once again from her manipulations. The cock seemed to have a mind of its own, first growing slightly, and then – right in front of her eyes – developing into a powerful shaft once again.

"Now," she said, "I knew you had it in you. Here you are, not even dry from our last little romp, and already for some more hot action."

"Guess you're right, Veronica."

Veronica imagined that she would like to have a chance at this hot guy in bed – conventional, but then again, she hadn't tried this one with this young stud. Leading him to the bedroom, she glanced at the refrigerator. That was it, she thought! She pictured his big, juicy lips, his ravenous expression, and knew that the right touch lie just inside the little ole kitchen. Within minutes, the young nympho had prepared the perfect little sex feast: a bowl of whipped cream, fresh strawberries, a flask of red wine; sliced peaches and a large bowl of yogurt. Returning with assorted goodies on a tray, the boy was at first surprised but he soon caught on, delighting in the prospects.

"Oh, I see it's time to satisfy our hunger," he said innocently.

"You've got the idea already, I see."

Ron couldn't decide what to do first. He looked very tempting on the bed; from his long legs, stretching on the pillow; from his cock and balls which were already swelling, to his smooth midsection, freshly matted with a thin layer of hair.

Vern decided to get right down to business, approaching his minuscule nipples with the whipped cream, then favoring the strawberries. "Your cherries could use a little reddening, I think," she said, then crushed a large berry right on his left nipple, the red juice merging with his own crimson, then the fruit itself entirely covering the bud with its own brand of sensuality. Vern liked that, and encouraged, she so continued, until both his nipples were covered with fruit. Without delay, Vern stuck out her tongue, then moved herself into position until she could poignantly taste the sensation of merging salt, sweat, and that particular unique fragrance of man. "Mmmm," she leaked out, "you taste really good for such a young fellow."

Veronica, snapping back to reality, realized that she wanted to make her entire fantasy more vivid, so she want to her own kitchen and fortunately found some ripe strawberries, which she promptly prepared in a ball, also approximating as closely as possible the remainder of the feast. Now, she thought, I'm really ready to jump in on this fantasy. After all, what good's the thought without the sensation? Who's to stop helping the whole thing along a little bit? It wasn't cheating, nothing of the sort, if for no other reason, that in masturbatory fantasies, the sole practitioner sets the ground rules: another little dividend of the solitaire sport.

Veronica returned to her delightful little party. "Vern," the lad quipped, "are you sure you don't mind messing up your bed like this?"

"My friend," she answered, "that's really what a bed is for, you know; you'll learn that when you get older, you young stud." Vern walked closer to her prey, putting the whipped cream in position in order to facilitate her little plans. Lets see, she thought, perhaps a little of this fluff in the right place, like on his buns, spreading it all around until his ass looks like the top of a cake, or better yet, over his little chest until his nipples are once again covered and his little hair no longer visible, except for a few particularly long strands, breaking through the sea of fluff like a few tall grasses break through the snow in dead winter. No, she thought this has got to be hard core, no two ways about it. She'd go for the guy's fabulous pecker, all shriveled, badly needing some real attention.

Vern applied some of the heavenly stuff on the guy until she could feel his pecker rise once again to its full glory. Little by little, it filled with blood and got harder, growing up on his abdomen, doubling, almost tripling it in total volume, like some gargantuan growth, but a fabulous enticing growth tipped with the most fascinating red cap of sensitive, ex posed skin. Oh, how she wished to devour that little sundae she'd prepared immediately, but she knew that this sort of affair is best held out to maximum duration, like a drinking party fueled by a particularly delicious, but not particularly spiked punch. She covered the shaft (now in its full glorious size) with cream until she could see none of his own skin, but was instead faced with what looked like, for want of better simile, a stucco harpoon. Stucco harpoon? Why not.

Veronica started to eat her little feast, but first decided to top the whole thing with a nice little strawberry; she marveled on how it eroticized his cock, making it look like some artist's representation. Slowly, she sucked on the berry until she squeezed the red juice out of it, then let it drool down the side of her mouth in sensuous abandon. "Baby, I'm going to eat your whole cock!" she said, suddenly starved out of her mind with more than one kind of appetite.

"Do it to me, do it to me," he begged.

"Nothing is gonna stop me little boy," she answered.

She imagined hearing a car, and her heart jumped for one second. Imagine being caught like this: her friend strewn on her parent's bed naked, an orgy of food surrounding the two of them, and worse yet, Veronica ravenously eating cream for the environs of the lad's fat cock.

"Eat me," he groaned.

"Like this?" she asked, taking a big portion of cream in her mouth.

"Yes that's it, eat me naked. Eat all of that cream off me and the make me cream; make me make cream. I want to shoot in your fucking mouth."

She realized the boy was almost mad with desire. After all, she hadn't let the poor boy get any real relief, for as soon as he'd shot his wad, she'd go at him at get him excited before he could bask in the release, before he could get completely limp, she was mercilessly stimulating him, before he could fall off into a sweet slumber; Veronica was making him ache for her body – her cunt, her mouth, her ass, her great tits – with every bit the passion he originally possessed. She had no mercy at all.

"Baby, faster, faster," he moaned, obviously aching from the cock.

Veronica could hardly wait to do her special number on the guy. Without hesitation, without the slightest pause, she took a surprisingly large portion of his pecker into her mouth, covering the sides of the oral orifice with the thick cream, which, mixing with her own saliva, soon lost it viscosity and started to, to put it plainly, dribble. The boy looked at this and was more turned on than ever, because now part of her was mixing with that organic fluff.

"Suck it, suck it good, Vern," he begged.

Vern could hardly believe the fantastic taste sensation. She'd always liked whipped cream, generously dapping it on her homemade sundaes, or requesting double portions in the ice cream parlor, but she'd never connected cream to sex. Now, she was having it all, her taste titillated by that cream and her cunt tickled by the sight and feel and sensations of this young, ripe stud.

Vern had to pause in her own kitchen as she pondered this scene. She could hardly believe how real it all seemed, from his sinuous body, to way she imagined using him as a lunch table.

Back in her reverie, Vern licked the cream from his entire cock, until he was naked down to the base, where the cream mingled with his black pubics until they looked like little threads in a sea of white. How she wanted to lick the rest of that cream and make him entirely naked once again; how she wanted to crush his swollen balls and squeeze out the remainder of his sweet jism until it mixed with the cream and created a sex ambrosia which would, could only drive her absolutely wild. How she wanted to suck his balls, and put them both in her mouth until she would suck them the way she used to dissolve sour balls; only these were much better.

"Eat the rest of it," he begged, "eat the rest of that cream off of me." Vern obliged and stuck her tongue out until she felt the coarse texture of his moistened cock hairs. "That's it, Vern, now eat the rest of the cream." This she did in an instant until there was no more sight of the heavenly white stuff.

"Now its my turn," she added, "what's fair is fair."

"All's fair in love and war," he replied.

Vern didn't like that and erased it from her imagination. It wasn't right somehow; made him seem too mature, too old a remark from a young smart punk who still couldn't believe the kind of action he was getting from a broad with a few years on him.

Veronica made herself very excited just thinking about having her cunt eaten – and not just in the conventional sense, but with the added attraction of real food. Vern felt the boy apply some of the whipped cream. It was cool and fresh, and made her entire body tingle with the excitement of it, from the inside of her womanhood, up her spine, and finally in the pleasure centers of her brain. She could feel the cream fill her big hole, and sense the boy's excitement as he watched her cunt turn from a crimson shade to a snowy white – all creamy, all ready for his tongue and lip and mouth action. "Come on," she said, "let's really give it a go; fill it till it can't hold any more."

The boy applied the cream as if it were liquid gold, taking tiny quantities of it in his fingers in order to prolong the process, dabbing a drop here, a drop there, smelling her cunt as her woman scent mixed with the dairy product. He sniffed her and prudently surveyed the area, getting so close that he got a dab of the fluff on the tip of his nose, a development Vern took advantage of by moving herself upward and licking it off. She knew he liked that, liked having her hot tongue touch him on the tip of the nose, taking off the cool whip but adding something better, the hot, luxuriant gloss of her steamy saliva, shining him up as if he was being glazed for some orgiastic barbecue, preparing him for the biggest sex feast of his life.

Vern was almost filled now, her cunt bulging with the cream, and the sheer heat of her womanhood beginning to melt the substance, turning the viscous material into a watery, slithery mixture which made her opening all the more sleazy, all the more desirable to the young stud. With a couple of final loving dabs, Vern was ready. "Okay," she said, "eat me now, eat it all up my young friend."

Vern could hardly believe how fantastic it felt when his tongue reached inside of her and began to imbibe the love juice. She thought she would have to moan out with sheer delight (not that she was in the slightest inhibited) but she held it in, maximizing the tension which was building inside of her womanhood and inside of her very skull. Meanwhile, the young stud's hands were not idle. He instinctively knew that a little massage – in the breasts, on the nipples, on her sides, along her back, up and across the insides of her thighs – could only enhance the total effect. First, as he held his head down inside of her cunt, he started to caress her shoulders, plump, well-rounded and womanly forms that they were, so delightful in texture, so perfect in formation. He began to squeeze them harder, a movement which almost sent shivers down her spine, and which managed, all the while, to push her breasts together until she sported the most fantastic cleavage down the front of her breasts. The boy was apparently so excited by this he had to momentarily abandon cunt in order to partake. He took his cream and slowly applied it to the tips of her cherries, creating a sort of costume, a costume which at first just covered the tips of her nipples, the entire nipples, and finally the fat underside of her tits. He paused for several seconds to admire his handiwork, and it was something at that. She looked draped in a fantastic bra, strapless, backless, and for that matter, almost topless – but in no sense shitless.

"Go ahead," she encouraged, "Suck them, suck my tits until they're naked again."

That was enough to have him touching the very edge of the cream with his tongue. Evidencing a restraint which belied his years, he slowly but surely made the little top even more abbreviated. He enjoyed the cream, but even more so the process of stripping Veronica naked. Slowly, sensually, he stripped away more of her frontal covering until she was nude just above the nipples. He began to ache to see those fat tits entirely nude once again, so he slurped away quickly, holding her arms at her sides almost as if to make the girl his mock captive. She was naked, except for some tiny spogs of white on both her nipples, which he quickly dissolved by two crafty swoops of the tongue.

"Suck them, suck them… do it to me!"

The boy went down on her tits harder than she imagined possible, but she loved the almost painful sensation as her nipples strained to remain attached to her breasts. She could feel her blood rise within, but once again, her cunt ached to be relieved of the rest of the cream.

"Come on, my friend," she said, "you really shouldn't ignore the rest of me."

With that cue, the boy went down on her once again, slurping, eating her out, until Veronica yelled out, "This is the greatest, this is the greatest fuck of my entire life!"

CHAPTER FOUR

Veronica woke early the next morning and quickly looked all around her. She was amazed to see that she'd been so exhausted by her imaginary romps (which were in substance physically very real) that she'd fallen asleep on the rug in her front room. She was still nude and her tits were pink from all the woman handling. The doorbell began to ring, but the girl made a quick decision. She'd go on a total durge this weekend – no visitors, no going out, no diversions – and wouldn't let. Anything – not even an opportunity for the real thing – get in the way of her solo dance.

She thought quickly: there were several possibilities; from preparing a lazy breakfast, complete with eggs and toast; to taking another shower and preparing her own body for the coming festivities; from getting right down to some heavy action with the electric cock; to just letting her imagination take her any old place that it might.

Veronica decided upon the latter, and her first thought was that she hadn't quite settled the score with John the Con. She restaged that party complete with its orgiastic ramifications, but now she wanted more of the same, more group sex, more kinky experimenting which would go beyond any thing which ever happened with one of the boys from her funky office.

Immediately she imagined calling John and laying it right on him: listen, she would say. Don't you think we should go to another party tonight, just like last night. If he acted hurt that he didn't get on in the real action, she would just say it was his own fault; if he said he had enough of her wild ways, she would say that he owed it to himself to let her teach him a few things; if he said that he couldn't take any more of such hot action, that he was too timid, she'd tell him she'd make a man out of him. To make a long story short, when a young woman with a dildo, and with a vivid imagination, is painting her own sex scenes, she doesn't have many obstacles to overcome, and within minutes Veronica orchestrated a car scene, John driving, and herself helping with directions for their second hot party in two nights.

"Listen," he said, "I don't know many of the people."

"Come off it John. You have to get over your own shyness – where's it going to get you?"

He didn't answer which didn't matter since they were rapidly approaching the affluent home which would be the scene of the crime. John pulled into the driveway of a large ranch house, "Well, this is it." The host was already on the lawn ready to greet his guests, a good-looking blond man in his early thirties, middle height, wearing an open-necked shirt, tight flare pants and a pair of boots.

"How do you do," he said, "please come in. You know we have a special treat tonight; I have some footage which is just super, I mean, some fine portraiture, really fine portraiture, to say nothing of my treatment of intercourse, the best in naturalistic pornography." He led his new guests inside to his living room where he already had a projector set up and a large screen, much larger than your average home movie screen. "Listen, Don's in the other room smoking some grass, which is okay be cause he's seen this stuff – oh, you two are welcome to some if you like, but as a personal favor, I would appreciate it if you'd hold off until after the viewing, because you'll appreciate it more this way. Okay, why don't we begin."

Two other women, Bernice and Lu, watched the screen which began in complete darkness, then became more light until the form of a torrid blonde was visible, riding on something, as her body was moving up and down. Soon, somehow, the director managed to have her clothes magically stripped from her body as if by the wind, first blouse, then bra, until her torso was naked (or at least all of it which was visible from the waist up) at which point great gusts of wind blew against her so that her breasts were pushed up and down and her hair went back, pulled off her forehead.

Veronica was incredibly turned on by this. For that matter, she hadn't been to many porno flicks, even though she could have gone many times in the past. It was just that the guys from the office she'd gone out with never seemed to go for that sort of thing, unless it was due to the fact that Vern herself was so inhibited. But the images Veronica imagined the director creating, basking in her own sensuality and the physical sensations of the wind, made her want not only to be in the picture with the woman, but to make love to her.

The picture continued and now the camera angle moved into a subjective shot from the woman's point of view, looking down, so that she could see the man she was mounting, none other than the film maker. Bill. Bill pushed his head into her face, then buried his cock into her cunt, a close-up of his face showing his mouth open and his eyes alive with pleasure. Finally, locked in each other's loins, the couple turned over and over, rolling around some downward slope which didn't seem to have a bet torn.

Veronica imagined watching the two women watching the film.

Bernice: Bernice was a dark type, tanned and healthy, but in her own way quite exotic. Her breasts were nothing less than huge, proudly bulging under her sweater like two balloons, round and full. She looked as if she'd been manufactured expressly for sex, for enjoying a full-time romp with men, with boys, with girls and especially with women. Her arms were folded on her lap, a lap which looked like it had to contain the hottest, wettest, most fulsome and desirable cunt in town. She proudly had her legs stretched out in front of her body, legs which were curved like few others, thin from the thigh down but not meager, just long and lean enough to accentuate her womanly contours, all lines leading upwards until the eye is inevitably lead to her alluring pussy, covered by a short dress, but somehow promising to be naked as soon and as completely as possible. Her black hair fell down on her shoulders, in front of her chest, and finally moved outward with the curve of her bosom, hair which looked like it could advertise for a beauty dressing, shimmering, the kind of hair that a man wants to shoot his wad into, the kind of hair which could be intermingled with a man's nuts, with his cock, with his own pubic hair, the kind of hair which, as the rest of her body, was made for sex.

Lu: Lu was the blonde in the room, and if Bernice's breasts can be termed gigantic, Lu's were at the least, extra-large (not quite as mammoth as her friend's, but no small tomatoes either). Lu looked like she was ready to get it from every angle: her mouth, open and expectant, her arms, wrapped around her own torso just below the breasts which made them stick out even further; her eyes, wide and full, the pupils expanded to maximal opening. This was a specimen of a woman, a shining, radiant beauty, ready to pull down her pants and display to any willing partner – be it female or male – that she was every bit as good in bed as she looked.

Meanwhile, the film kept flashing in front of the viewers, a scene of now three naked forms rolling and romping together until finally coming to a sudden halt, entwined within each other's limbs. There were two males and the one woman, both men anxiously feeling her body, perhaps competing to be the first one inside of her enticing cunt. The woman spread her legs and exposed her pulsing pussy, creating an opportunity which neither of the men ignored, pushing their full, heavy cocks in that direction. But one clearly but the other, so the loser brought his cock up toward the woman's mouth as she was being penetrated down below. She groaned out at first when she was entered, then composed herself as she took the other man's cock in her mouth. She was on her back now, her body covered from the waist down by the man fucking her, his legs plastered against her own, his arms stretched out on each side of her body, his mouth open in pure ecstasy. The other man was on his knees and managed to point his cock directly down at her, positioning the stem so that eating it was as simple as a tilt of the head, an opening of the mouth, and a good suck emanating from within. There was no dialogue, no sound, but its dream-like qualities made it one of the sexiest sights Veronica had ever witnessed – and to think that it was all purely the product of a masturbatory imagination.

Harder and faster the two men stuck their peckers into the respective openings, engorging her with their manhood. She could not even cry out if she had wanted to, for her mouth was entirely filled with that hairy hobo, pressing fervidly, passionately into her orality. Oh, fuck her, Veronica thought, fuck her until she begs you to stop. She imagined what it would be like to have the exclusive use of two men like that, one of them concentrating on her pussy, the other lathing her breasts, or giving her some mouth action like in the picture. She imagined how exciting it would be to draw two erect penises up to her face and feel them against her lips, then compare them for size, for hardness, for consistency as well as the parameters of visual effect (color, form, design). Yes, it would be sheer heaven, an ultimate in sexual experiments.

But she had no desire to cut the movie off at such an early stage. She glanced at Lu who was obviously just as enraptured as herself, then at Bernice, whose very eyes seemed glued to the screen, but not wishing to miss out on the action herself, Veronica set her imagination exclusively on the screen once again.

There was a close-up of one of the guy's faces. He was grimacing now and looked desperate, had that expression that all men have right before coming – of pleasure-pain, of almost going out of their minds. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and pushed it against her tits and just as suddenly and jerkily as his motions, his cream poured all over her nicely rounded tits, first several drops, then larger drops, which drooled down the sides of her spheres and made her very nipples glisten. She watched in wonderment as the guy's cock seemed to get even harder still, filled with fluids, ejecting its own pleasure stuff, grown to a size almost beyond the maximum capacity. She imagined the strength of the male orgasm, so different from the female – one huge intensive spurt which could dissolve the strongest man's energy, make him the innocent victim of any woman's whimsies. Oh, she'd like those two cock-suckers to be her slaves. She fantasized having them tied up, their huge cocks bulging as she shamelessly stimulated them, then dropped their trousers and stripped them of their underwear; she imagined blowing them as they impotently attempted to bring up their knees and push back her face but were prevented by the ropes tied just below their groins; she imagined the confusion on their faces as they hopelessly gave way to passion although they attempted to hold themselves back, for what is more humiliating than to be raped, to be captive of a female.

But such fantasy dissolved under the dominant motif of the fucking movie, the sexy celluloid which held untold fancies and limitless perspectives and angles. A low-angle shot showed the woman just as she turned over on her side and exposed her fantastic buns, two perfectly shaped spheres, parted smoothly by a crack which displayed just the bottom side of her furry pussy. It was a delicate, torrid, and all too exciting pose, especially for the man who had taken his cock from her cunt, and was yet to come. Come on, Veronica thought, come on her now, take that fantastic pecker and come right in her cunt, giving all you've got to that broad.

And this is precisely what followed, the stud sticking his rod right into her cunt as they lay on their sides, the other gentleman falling to the side exhausted, holding his rapidly wilting cock between his fingers, wrenching out the final few drops of come. Fuck him, Veronica thought, fuck him all the way you bitch. The woman looked a little mad at this point, already well into her second orgasm as she brought her second man to his first. Faster, harder they fucked and then began to turn on their sides. Good cinema, thought Veronica. The couple was rapidly working up to a fever pitch, a frenzy of excitement as the other man looked on, as a room filled with horny people witnessed their machinations. It got even more energetic, and the man started to rub the woman's breasts, harder and faster, furiously, until his body lurched into a tight spasm, his face reddening, his legs jerking into a stiff position, his mouth opening in ecstasy.

As suddenly as it began, the film that Veronica composed in her imagination was over, the screen becoming white, Lu and Bernice looking ready for action, as Bernice fingered the sides of her huge breasts, eyeing the assorted men in the room, especially John and then, even Veronica.

"Well," she said, moving over to John, "I can tell you liked our little movie."

John was a little nervous at first, probably a bit in awe of her massive endowments, "Yes… loved it. I like a really hot piece of action."

Bernice was most direct, "Then I think you'll like me."

Before the man knew what was happening, he looked about and saw the two other men in the room began making it with two other women, which, for the moment, left a nice group of himself, Lu, Bernice, Vern, and then a guy who came over, introducing himself as Monty, a big, burly hulk of a man, already stripped to the waist. John moved over to Bernice and was given the visual go-ahead, which he promptly took advantage of by kissing the woman on her dark, hot lips, then feeling the firm flesh on her back, excited by the brassiere strap which he knew would soon be loosened and pushed out of the way. He began to rub the flesh on her back, then up her sides above the hip and just below the waist.

Meanwhile, Monty moved over to Veronica in order to get acquainted. Veronica liked the prospect as he was a big, aggressive type and would waste no time on the amenities, no small talk, no beating around the bush, no light drink or nibble of food be fore getting down to business, just hot fuck action. He immediately kissed her on the lips as Lu looked on, evaluating the woman's performance, as if deciding on if she was worthy of her own amorous interests. That's the way Vern liked to imagine things. Her imagination was being honed to a fine point where she could almost effortlessly conjure all types of images, and even better than that, the details of sexuality – the sizes and shapes of bodies, the nuances of behavior, the detail of genitals, almost as if she were there herself.

She imagined, could really feel, the poignant taste of the brute's lips as he aggressively, almost roughly, drew her to him and pursed his own kisser on top of hers, rubbing her back, feeling her big bet tom with the palm of his hand, which almost moved upward into her womanhood, but teased around the area. Vern felt like moaning out but controlled herself as the man brought her body closer to his own, until she could feel the bulge in his pants swelling, growing as it pushed against her own body, a development which almost drove her wild with passion, which made her want to push her body against his, yank down his pants, then really go at his hot member, with touches, pushed, yanks, pulls and pushes, and finally – and this would be best of all – hot sucks.

"Baby, I can see you don't fool around."

Encouraged, Veronica positioned her body even closer to the man's until he could feel her full breasts crushing against his chest, sense her hot breath on his face, on his neck and then on his shoulder as the hot woman really got down to business.

Meanwhile, Bernice was giving hot action to John. She moved over to the couch and removed the man's shirt, toying with the hair on his chest. As if to even the score, but really giving him by far the better deal, she removed her blouse and exposed her chest, complete with two spheres held in place by a low-cut and extremely sensual bra. "Go ahead," she encouraged, "kiss them, kiss my big, fat tits."

John pursed his lips and for a second just paused to take in the sights. He was aware that Vern and Monty were already a step ahead of him, Vern lying topless on her side on the rug, and Monty having his pants pulled down to his knees. But that was okay; this wasn't a competition. He preferred to bask in the sight and excite himself to the limit, slowly, but not languidly. His blood was almost boiling as he imagined what kind of nipples she had (small or large, red or pink, rounded or oval, large, huge, or medium, prickly or perfectly smooth, hard or spongy). "May I," he asked, but with the tone of a statement. He didn't have to wait for an answer, so he got down to business immediately. He unlatched the back of her brassiere. He slowly drew the cups down until her breasts were revealed, huge, glorious and magnificent. She had large button-shaped nipples, red and juicy, nipples which he immediately tongued and then covered with his own spittle. She liked that, liked that so much that she arched her back in order to put them in his face, arched her back in order to make her mammoth knockers appear even huger.

Then he pushed his head right into them, almost swimming in her endowments. "Ooh," she moaned out, "feel them all over, kiss my big tits." Without hesitation, John pushed the spheres together, then up and down, apart, together again, until he could see them at every angle, could feel their weight as they strained under his fondling. "You really know how to man handle a woman," she said, encouraging him further, enticing him by the tone of her voice and the enthusiasm of her body; by the look in her eye and the motion of her hand which was already making its way down to his cock; by the arch in her back and the very erection in both her nipples. "Come on John, why don't you make yourself nice and comfy – know what I mean."

John quickly began to remove his clothing: first his shirt, which was already entirely opened, then his trousers, and finally all his underwear. He noticed that he was still wearing his socks, which looked a little foolish, so he removed them quickly, bending over and exposing the back of his balls, distended and fat, as he bent over.

"Oh, John," she said, "you are a hulk." With that she moved over to him and shamelessly cupped his balls from the rear, touching a spot so sensitive that the big man almost yelled out and jumped forward more than a few inches. "Come now, I know you can take it." She moved closer to him, and this time took hold of his balls with her palms, squeezing them gently, then harder, until he held her hand in a motion for her to have mercy. "Got you by the balls so to speak, don't I." After she eased up, she began to stroke his shaft, from the bottom or the base, up ward to the middle, finally right to the sensitive tip, and just under the glans. "You like that," she said demurely, "I know you like that." This broad was the sexiest thing Vern bad conjured ever, kind of an ultimate in womanly power, the kind of woman no man in his right mind could walk away from, especially when she looked him straight in the eye and seemed to call out to him, to deliver her entire message: look, I'm hot and available and want some real action, so if you have the guts I have the pussy. That's the way Veronica had always wanted to be, and she realized that she'd invented close to her feminine idol. Bernice pushed her breasts into the man's chest once again, "Why not taste my lower parts?" she knew this was an offer John would quickly honor, probably without hesitation in answering (no need for confirmation when a lady is so fabulously available).

He yanked her panties entirely off, basking his eyes in the sight of her jet black pubic surprise. She sported a perfect "V" which dominated her lower portion, an area which looked all the more attractive the way she charmingly pushed her legs together and made him want more than anything to have her spread, to expose her beautiful pussy so he could get a nice whiff and even better, a terrific taste.

John moved down. Soon she was on the floor, sitting on her buns, propping her body up by her elbows, her knees flush together. John took a hold of those knees, one in each hand, and pushed them slowly apart. At first, he could see only half-way down her legs, then further, until a portion of her magnificent pussy was visible, then more, until she could be seen in all her splendid, crimson, juicy, sexy glory. She was a nymphet, no doubt, a veritable Goddess of sensuality.

John opened his mouth slowly. That's the way Veronica chose to picture it: a slow-motion, almost painful sequence of lips parting, of tongue slowly moving outward, of body lurching forward, of busty Bernice spreading her legs as far as they would go, of John finally making ecstatic contact with her womanly inner tissues.

"This is too much," Veronica said to Monty as she noticed the kind of action which was taking place.

"Oh, yeah, she's known for her talents if you know what I mean. But I think you could give her a run for her money. Ever make it with a broad?"

"Not quite like that one."

"Well, knowing this bitch the way I do, I can tell you that she'll be plenty hungry herself after your boy's feast – not that he's not giving her a nice little treat – but you know, the girl's got quite an ap petite."

"Do you think she'd like to make it with me?"

"I've seen her make it with chicks who looked a lot less talented than yourself. Sure, I saw the way she looked you over, the way she eyed you on top and on bottom, the way she caught sight of that fabulous turning of your hips as you walked across the room. That's the real go-ahead."

Complimented, her confidence boosted, Vern said, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what'll happen, won't we?"

Just then, the bitch started to moan out, obviously overcome with John's technique, his oral action sucking, taking her beyond the bounds of propriety and into the hinterland of animal lust, the jungle-like craving of a desire gone beyond all civilized restraint.

She looked like she'd do anything to keep him going, that she was beyond all limits of restraint.

"Come on baby, suck my cunt, suck my fucking cunt."

Vern liked to see her language degenerate – and that's why she orchestrated this entire fantasy sequence in such a manner – because it added to the abandon. Her theory had it that if you scratch the surface of the most civilized, high-brow broad, you can find a raging animal, foul-mouthed animal just underneath, waiting to be released from the imprisonment of clothing and manners. Bernice was at that point searching a way to enhance her al ready mounting frenzy. She settled upon Vern and gave her one of those visual green lights which says, come over here you bitch, and suck my tits, feel them all over, do it to me the way this guy's doing it down below.

Almost hypnotized, Veronica walked over, aware of the weight of her own jugs, but aware even her endowments were not quite up to this bombshell's. She pushed her head downward until she was able to feel the woman's spheres with her chin. They felt marvelously firm, but not hard, in tact, but not lifeless, just the right mixture of soft and hard, pliability and durability.

Within a few more minutes, Bernice was almost at the point of a big "O". Hut that would be no problem. She was so sexed, so fired up, that she was good for multiple orgasms, for many sprees as she brought one guy and one broad after another to the point of ultimate excitement as they would be barely able to keep up with her. She must have been a bottomless pit of sex energy, Veronica thought, and she wondered if it related to having such a dynamite body. Probably not, she thought. After all, drive like this has to do with physiology, metabolism, nervous system and most of all psychology. It was just glorious coincidence that this bitch looked every bit as torrid as she most likely felt.

"Come on baby, do a real number on me."

With that bit of encouragement, Vern lowered her head all the way, stuck out her tongue, and felt the tip of Bernice's huge, erect nipple. It sent chills down our girl's back, exciting her no end. Veronica, who had rarely gotten a chance to suck tit, found the opportunity ultimately exciting, the perfect beginning for a real sex party. She could observe that Monty was being driven crazy by such action. He already had his clothes off and was sitting and watching with a huge boner, his cock grown to gigantic proportions, his face flushed with a sex blush.

Veronica knelt down and really got down to business. She kneaded the flesh of the huge tits, pushing them together, then apart, up and down, intermittently sucking and tasting the salty, sinuous skin of breast flesh, the best flesh.

"Suck them bitch," she said.

With that Veronica, who was well endowed herself, pushed her own knockers in the woman's face, an action which did not go unheeded. Now that the man was concentrating on Bernice's lower legs, Vern was able to straddle her, feeling her soft midsection make contact with her own soft pussy, encouraging the contact by pushing down harder with her weight. Basking in the sensations, Vern pushed her back down until her tits met Bernice's, breast to breast, nipples to nipples. Then she pushed into the woman's chest harder, until it was almost a contest to see whose tits would stay firmest under the onslaught, whose endowments had the most durability.

But at the very least it was a drag. They both stayed firm, and both ached for more.

"Come on bitch," she said, "you call that pressure."

With that, Bernice drew Veronica even closer until the woman thought she might push through the woman's very skin, but the effect was fantastic. Feeling completely absorbed in her own passion, entirely taken away by the excitement of it all, Vern just went with it with entire abandon. Meanwhile, the man below was not idle, and for that matter, Monty had difficulty merely staying at the sidelines. Monty came over and stuck his huge cock right in Veronica's line of vision. It was a difficult choice, two options posed in front of her, two almost perfect tits, and one, almost perfect cock. But decisions must be made quickly in an orgy, and Veronica decided upon a little jaunt back to heterosexuality, standing up with more than a little difficulty, but quickly getting into the swing of excitement with Monty who whisked her off to the comfortable corner of a large couch.

"Hope you liked the little movie."

"Yes, most unusual."

"What did you like the most about it?"

"Honest…"

"Of course," he interjected.

"I was really turned on, really turned on," she repeated for emphasis, "by one girl getting it by two guys."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, there's something really fantastic about seeing two guys going crazy like that."

"Do you think two guys are twice as good as one?"

"I think so, but you know, the way to learn… is by experience," she interjected.

Within seconds, Veronica imagined herself surrounded by Monty and Bill, both men desperate to get at her sensual body, determined to get at her, and lathe her with their passion. There is no embroidery of the tale to stress that the men were livid, almost mad with desire, pushing Vern almost brutally to the edge of the couch and then on the floor.

"Fuck her," Lu said, soon echoed by Bernice.

At this point, it would have been difficult to convince Vern that her scenario was illusory, for she wriggled about in her apartment, right on the floor, and could feel the men breathing on her, pushing their manly flesh against her.

The men's flesh was positively unctuous, lubricated with the secretions of their desire, beads of sweat, drops of sweat, engulfing them, making them swim in their own juices.

"Fuck her!" Bernice demanded more emphatically.

Encouraged, Monty brought down his frothy mouth to the environs of Vern's own oral orifice, gently parting her lips with his tongue, then pushing his own inside her mouth until she was ready to cry out in passion.

"Mmm, baby," he canted, "you know how to kiss. Where did you learn how to do that?"

But there was no time for chatter, no time to do anything outside of pure sex action – kissing, fucking, burning, churning, doing it – and doing it quickly.

"Ho, baby, do it," Monty said.

Bill was anxious to get into the action, so he took a remarkably ample portion of Veronica's tit inside of his mouth, sucking it inward, making it turn nice and pink, then red and crimson, straining the tender womanly tissues to the limit.

"Oh, oh, suck me, suck me all the way."

Veronica didn't want him to stop, didn't want him to do anything but make her go all the way.

Meanwhile, Monty took some definite moves to position the trio properly on the floor. Picture this scene: the man pushed Veronica on her ass so that she straddled across John, then finally stretched out on her marvelous buns, ready and expectant; John spread her legs, then pushed his nose up into her cunt, until he could smell her sweet pussy, then actually touch her inner folds, the red, wet, juicy portions of her pussy; meanwhile Monty took the top, moving slowly from the convoluted areas under her arms to the magnificent open planes of her abdomen and the mountainous sphericity of her melons.

John turned on his side, bringing Veronica over on hers, locking their hips together as Monty nestled on his side behind her: a triple sex sandwich.

Meanwhile, Bernice and Lu decided to get acquainted, rubbing their respective bosoms against each other and generally increasing their passion geometrically. "Oh baby," Bernice groaned, "do it to me, and rub my big, fat cherries." That was all the encouragement Lu needed, so she pushed her entire body against the ruby black woman, pressing her against the wood-paneled wall and crushing her huge spheres, just hard enough to drive her into a frenzy.

Lu and Bernice were quite a pair (besides each one having quite a pair). The dark and the light, the Mediterranean and the Nordic classic, the mysterious and the open hook beauty, Raquel and Marilyn, both posed side by side like two complementary halves, all that any man in his right mind would want.

But the men in this scene, created so aptly by Veronica, were kept quite busy and quite satisfied at the moment, laying together, squeezing their bodies into entwined beings, one organism; they were dead to the world. It was a sight to behold, first one hair buttocks, then the smooth contours of Veronica, finally another hairy ass and legs, surrounding the fair lovely. Monty turned about slightly until he was facing Vern, breathing right into her and able to slide his cock right into her dark slit as John held her buns from the rear, pushing them for ward as if to make her better able to accommodate the form, the massive shaft of Monty's cock. "Come on," John whispered, "give it to this girl, give all you got to this fucking sexy bitch."

Veronica's rotundity, in a positive sense, was something to behold, the most womanly shape, her hips curved almost inhumanly inward like the perfection of femininity, her breasts falling against each other, creating explicit, perfect cleavage. Monty couldn't keep his hands off that cleavage, pushing the breasts together, pushing them apart, licking the fat, full cherries until they were almost as erect as his very cock.

"Do it," she pleaded.

Harder he pushed, all the way inside.

Now that his stem was completely lost in her womanhood, he felt like her captive, as if he was hers to do with as she would. He brushed, licked, manipulated, kneaded, and contacted with every inch of her lasciviously molded flesh. He pushed against her with such force that he could feel his own pubic hair intermingling with Veronica's until it would have been difficult to extricate it. He felt his heavy balls become more excited, the thick skin covering becoming prickly, pushing his ball hairs upward and making him seem closer to some sort of orgasmic climax.

The other stud kept up his action from the rear, spreading her buns, pushing his hands around toward her front area, and downright scratching against her tits with his long, manicured nails. "Ow," she protested in surprise, but that didn't stop this demon, didn't stop him until he had pierced her skin and created a fine, thin red line which quickly evaporated due to its fortunate superficiality. He rested his long schlong inside of her ass crack, and could feel each time his friend thrust inward from the front, a beautiful sensation which made Veronica lurch backward, which, of course, like any action from the woman at that point, had a direct connection to the man's cock.

The trio created a potpourri, a medley of musical variations, with roulades, cadenzas, its own sense of cadence, fugue and canon. Monty was a virtuoso, a performer who had his instrument tuned perfectly; Bill was a fine trumpeter, and a piper, and a drummer, a flutist who could change the timbre of his instrument as quickly and as surely as a one man band. "Oooh," Veronica called out, "fuck me, you two fantastic studs."

Meanwhile, Lu and her friend continued to get acquainted. Bernice pushed Lu against the wall, then moved her hand downward slowly, first ascribing circles on her shoulders, pausing momentarily about the chest, then moving down to the real business, the fantastic cleavage and sack-like beginning of her tits, an area which she caressed with loving care, almost obsessional care. "Come on, Bernice," she said, "come and give it to me, give it to me good. I want you to stick your fingers right inside of me, all the way that they can go, because… I want you to… I want you to… make me… come!" Bernice was pleased. Bernice was pleased. After all, she'd been encouraged by the broad before, but never given the green light to such extent and degree, with such determination and abandon. So, she thought, you want me to fuck you huh, you want me to stick my hands in the inner side of your thighs, to move upward until I can feel the heat above, to cut right through your womanly hairs, to open your folds, and then to manipulate your womanly organs? You want me to do all that? Baby, you've got it.

The women were seething with passion, driven to nothing short of a white heat (a heat which was as intense as it was voluminous, all embracing as it was centered and well adjusted). When Bernice pushed her hand down to the triangle of her friend's pubics, she sparked another flame and drove the woman to yet a new level of excitation – another dimension to the experience – then she pushed just above the slit, flaming a caloric quantum, an incandescence within the woman's brain and her entire body. "Come on, baby," she pleaded, "all the way in and now… right now, baby, do it."

Now it was Bernice's turn to tease, and no one can tease a woman like another woman, for another woman, possibly having been in the same place, knows what it is that takes a female over the top, from the desperate heat of building, to the melting transcendence of melting orgasm. A lambent flame burnt within her partner, and Bernice knew it.

"Come on bitch," Lu began to plead, "do it, and now. I can't stand it."

"You really want it, don't you?"

"Come on, come on!"

Veronica loved this part. She loved to orchestrate a passionate scene between women, loved to be in complete control. True, she knew none of it was real – one glance at the electric dildo which was all but overheated at that point told her that – but it felt real, in her torrid cunt, in her tits, and she began to feel that that's all that counted. She continued with her play, and began to drive the women to even higher heights of passion.

"Do it, baby, do it to me now."

"Okay, don't sweat; you know that you'll get yours."

At that point Veronica decided to change the scene a bit. Just when just about everyone in the room was at the point of coming, Veronica had John speak up. "Wait a minute, let's all go into the bedroom and do some rearranging – no sense putting an end to such a good thing so soon, know what I mean?"

It sounded good to everyone, even though it meant the almost painful discipline of holding back their collective wads, keeping the boner boned, the hot pussy hot, the erect nipples unsatisfied, but that was okay, just as long as they knew the best part was soon coming.

John led the way, his big erect penis proudly stuck out in front like the great forefront of a ship, cutting its way through a stormy sea. He arranged the pillows on the bed so that the king bed would be able to contain all of their forms – John himself, Monty, Lu, Bernice and Veronica (not a bad boy girl ratio, two to three) all moved inward. They were a sight, the women sweated, lubricated as they were with their own fluids, the men, penises erect, balls heavy and distended, all possessing that gaunt and hungry look which demands release only in orgasm.

Positioned on the bed, Veronica had herself lay out like some great sexual display. "Come on folks," she imagined saying, "how about all of you doing a number on me first. You know, look," she added, beginning to get into the swing of giving direct orders, "Lu over here, now suck me on the nipples, yes… oh, that's it, now concentrate on the left one. Bernice, you take the right." Bernice approached, slowly at first, reluctant to take orders from a mere sexual peer, but eventually going with the tide. Soon, Veronica pictured herself lathed in the kisses of two broads (who occasionally pushed their massive bosoms against her) until she could hardly stand it – pressed, caressed, kissed and sucked, her tits almost as red as the flush in her face. "Okay," she was barely able to moan out, "now I want you two to really go to town on me, you know what I mean." She paused, then looked Bill over, from head to foot. He really was a stud of a man, especially the way he stood there with his hairy bobo as erect as could be. He didn't seem to mind her stare at all as she glued her eyes to his pecker. It was fatter than she'd remembered it, and longer, and thicker at the base, and redder at the tip. It seemed to be the center of his being, just as Bernice's jugs were the center of hers, or Lu's great loins were her center of gravity. No, this man was a pecker person, a great hulk of a sexy bastard waiting to fuck his big, lush broad.

"Come on," she added, "come over here and do a number on my cunt. Come on boys, don't be afraid," but adding cryptically, "don't be greedy." John liked that, so he was the first to make a move.

He slowly positioned himself over Veronica's body, looking down at the feast which was being enacted above the waist, then observing the tempting sight below: her pussy, all hot and swollen, her legs moving apart, then together, apart again, like some sinuous fan awaiting to be plugged in. Her caloric measure had risen by quantums. And so had his. But it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was for the couple to move and grind, jerk and push, until their bodies would be locked in love, and their orgasms would spurt, and melt, then churn slowly down, leaving the individuals in a basking, glowing ecstasy.

This is the way it would happen, and this is the way it happened – for Veronica was the author, the conductor, the composer, the creator of it all.

Veronica paused to get her breath. She stopped and looked around for a second, and could hardly believe that she was alone. Where was John, and Bernice? Where was that dynamite blonde, Lu? And what about good old Monty? No, it was all fantasy, and for a second Veronica felt very much apart from anything, almost lonely, until she picked up her dildo once again, and any thought of negativism evaporated under the onslaught of her own torrid sensuality. Just for the sake of experiment Veronica decided to try the auto-fuck without image, without the elaborate fantasy. She felt the pure sensation of the hard, white, porcelain-like structure quickly, almost rudely invade her womanhood, and how that inorganic phallus warmed her up, almost better than a real, throbbing cock. The electric vibrations pushed against her tissues, massaging, then caress mg, then doing more than that; it was almost obscene to think of the powers of a mere machine. How could an object control her so? How could a mere vanilla dick drive her almost crazy? She pushed it farther inside, the cruel phallus, the monument to feminine isolation, transforming into a symbol of her self-sufficiency. She could feel the sensations envelope her. It tickled her cunt, then traveled up her spine and into her head; it churned against her inside like a fire stick, making her swell and expand and take in even more of the stick, making her want it until she couldn't stand it; it made her almost sick with constant, growing desire; from the erection in her nipple; to the ache in her womanhood.

Oh, she said to herself, this is it. This is the ultimate, the final goal of my life-long search for satisfaction. There were people, many people, but at the same time she could turn them off as quickly and as surely as a television set, and just take in pure sensation. But when she tired of that, she could go back to the convolutions of plot and orgy, of relationship, character and tangible form, to fuck and suck with the living fantasies of some real people.

She knew she would be going back soon, for Bernice, Lu and John and Monty were waiting for her, and could only continue, could only exist with her in the driver seat of imagination.

She eased into her orgy, the scenario in the bedroom, and was gratified to find she could carry on right where she left off. She was lathed by Lu and Bernice, and being approached by John, who quickly pushed his face into her upreached cunt. He liked her like that, all perched up, her back arched, her legs spread, and all of her senses primed for the real thing. John moved forward and put his hands under Veronica's buns. That way he was able to move her pussy even higher in space, until it reached even higher into the air than her melonous breasts. Her spheres were almost dwarfed by the arched back which pushed her pussy as high as possible. Having his hands behind the buns, perching her in the proper way, positioned in the perfect manner, John pushed his face into her pussy and felt the fantastic heat as it invaded his proboscis, bathing him in olfactory saturation. "Oooh," he moaned out – a man about to taste the most fragrant, delicious, poignant dinner of his career: pure pussy juice.

"Eat me," she ordered – and liked giving the directive.

"Baby, glad to oblige," he said, and felt happy to be so smooth, almost like his favorite matinee idol.

He lowered his head, buried it deeply within the woman, and began to lick, to suck and to take in her most intimate womanhood. "Mmmm," he said, basking in the flavors. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly; what was it, salt, sour, sweet, semisweet, tangy, acidic, vitriolic, mellow, bland, enticing, spicy, or what? Just as it was hard to define, it tasted as fantastic, the greatest treat he remembered in one hell of a long time. He spread her legs and looked down at her cut and cherry. He was fascinated to see the way her slit formed a finely symmetrical form, all oval and opened, containing the fine seed of her womanhood, and in the deepest area of the channel, a dark chasm which seemed to lead to nowhere.

"Eat it baby," she said.

"It's good, real good," he answered, still sounding suave.

"Oh, do it to me."

He continued his incessant licking, watching her grit her teeth as if in pain, but aware that he was taking this little lady for the sex ride of her life.

"Oh, yes, suck."

"You taste good."

Lu said, "What a pair, what a fantastic pair of knockers." – the two women were obviously satisfied with their playing up above.

"Yeah," Monty added as he stroked Veronica's leg, "but the real action is always just below the equator. How does the song go: down below, down below, that's where I want to be, a lot of mellow fellows but better than all, some spicy lady, lay dee!" He had himself a good laugh, but his jolly mood soon transformed into a good-natured passion when he began to get a whiff of the fantastic pussy juice rapidly dominating the entire area. "Potent," he observed as he sniffed.

"All the better to seduce you with."

"Hey, you know we fellas can do a bit of that ourselves."

"Come now… how?"

"Don't you think we notice the way you broads look us over when we stand up, the way your eyes center on the fly area, trying to guess if we're hard or not, the way you follow our buns as we go strolling down the street. No, you broads are every bit as horny as the guys, but you're just sneaky about it, that's the entire difference."

"You might have a point," Lu added.

"Sure I do… I have a few perceptions myself." But the first perception on his mind at that moment was just above his nose: the dark and secluded place, above the knees and below the waist – to quote from an old song.

When John and Monty began to suck her off at the same time it was almost to much to take (it was, actually, just that added straw of excitement which took her over the edge).

In her own home, her imagination churning with the throttle entirely out, Veronica twisted and turned on her rug, knowing that she was already into the involuntary spasms of orgasms. She was perplexed for a moment, her mind for the first time out of control, not knowing whether to retain the cast of characters from the fantasy or just roll with the pure sensations. But somehow, the answer was made for her, and it was just Veronica, alone in a room, crazy with passion, dripping in sexuality as if she were really excited by ten studs, one handsomer than the next. "Ooh, oh, agghh!" she groaned out suddenly like a wild animal in pain. She felt her entire body go tense, then her entire being swell, until, for just a second, it felt as if she were suspended in space, alone, frightened and paralyzed. But then came the fantastic melting, the release from ultimate incapacitating tension: "Oh, oh, oohh!" she groaned. This was even better than the initial sensation, the verification of her orgasmic state. She could feel all the energy leave her at once, could feel her blood boiling, then simmer and finally cool in the instance that a glow and flush took over her face. It was indescribable peace, and she was out of breath, but pleasantly puffing, as if she were simply trying to taste something, rather than reach out for a necessity of life; the air tasted sweet under these conditions, like a bonus.

But within minutes, almost to Veronica's own surprise, she felt her inner passion build once again. She could feel those strong sensations – the ache to be manhandled, the dull desire in her breasts to be fondled, the reaching out of her body for hot, torrid action – then she knew she'd return to her little scene. Whence such energy? Who knows, she thought, but she was going to take advantage of every watt of it, if it was the last thing she'd do.

Back in that little synthetic orgy, she started to play with her men, first very gently tapping them in the groin, then harder until they had to back off.

"So, you want a little rough trade, eh?" asked Monty.

"YOU can't get near me," she replied with tremendous arrogance.

Monty came nearer, but to his amazement, the girl knelt under his arms and tripped his legs so that he fell flat on his face. An instant later Bill approached but met the same fate. This was an old and constant fantasy of Veronica's – to have some men by the balls, to be able to overpower them purely in the physical realm. But one must be on the outlook for women, for they are sneaky creatures, and Lu snuck up from the rear, positioning Veronica in a helpless nelson hold. Try as she might, she could not wrench herself free of the wench's grasp.

"Well, well, well," said John, almost sadistically, "what have we here?"

She could feel the blond's huge breasts press against her back, and she leaned against them, hoping to discourage her by the pressure of her weight. But there was no percentage in such action, for the bitch was determined to keep her hold.

So held captive – another dynamite fantasy – John walked up to her (this time it was he who was the arrogant one) and spread her legs. When she managed to squirm loose of his grasp, he had Monty hold her legs apart.

Monty delighted in pinning her in such a manner, as did Bernice, who stood a bit in the background, ejaculating with the most hideous of sighs. But the scene was far too erotic to be humiliating, and in all honesty, it was a scene which turned Veronica on like few others. Her knees were pulled apart as she tried to push them together; there was just no way she could cover her exposed body, her naked pussy, all vulnerable to whatever indignity the likes of these horny bastards might choose to impart. John decided on some straight ahead, no nonsense, no foreplay, straight on fucking. He rammed his cock right up slit and began pumping away. Within seconds, his face was red. Lu looked on and lit a cigarette. Her blond hair looked radiant and her face lit up in a smile as she watched, cupping her own breast and passionately sensing the erection of her nipple.

"Oh, fuck her, fuck her," she said out loud.

"Oh, yes, do it to me you brute."

Monty started to press against John's back in encouragement, but he needed none of that. A big man, a cocky man by nature and temperament (he'd known nothing but success, from college days in ac counting, to switching fields first on a whimsy and then for the sake of career; from the lower structures of corporate insurance, to middle management, and now to his present position, in line for one of the coveted managerial spots).

Monty was a bit of a contrast, no great head on career goals but a good solid jock – full frame, muscular build, coordinated and graceful, and there when you need him, but let the individual to engage in philosophical discussion with his lies be warned.

Nothing really mattered at that point but the nuts and bolts ball and socket operation of straight ahead fucking: all throttles out.

"Oh," she moaned, like a trapped animal.

Veronica was back in her apartment for a second. She looked up and observed that the ceiling was about twirling around her head, the light fixture converted into a mobile, a cartwheel filled with psychedelic colors and forms, the windows in her room, a great cathedral in some futuristic city, her furnishings the surrealistic representations of her inner psychology, all of course being mere accessories to the realities of her genital experience. She stuck that dildo deeper inside but now it wasn't enough. Her pussy demanded change, some novel sensation which could approximate the forced entry she imagined herself experiencing.

Sure, there were several options: (1) she could go outside and get herself raped – an easy enough prospect in this day and age, yet all too dangerous for her own taste given the association of rape and violence; (2) she could call a friend and ask him to rape her (but that would ruin her resolve to make this weekend entirely on her own: (3) she could search for some finer object with which to penetrate pussy. She decided upon the latter, fortunately for her and society and for, as things would turn out, everyone directly and indirectly involved with her life.

She soon struck upon some phallic items in the kitchen, her favorite being the trusty cucumber, the standard carrot, the slightly exotic half-sour pickle, and finally simply a tube-shape applier of frosting, which though a little hard around the edges, could with care approximate the cold cock of the rapist.

Vern went with the cucumber first. It was a bit cold and slimy at first, but as soon as she was able to go beyond this, it was quite desirable. She slowly tickled the outer rim of her cunt, basking in the glow created by the smooth skin. She marveled at how the glistening vegetable skin merged with her own tissue and drove her to a keen state of passion. Then she pushed the vegetable a full halfway into her cunt, excited beyond measure by the sensation. Suddenly, she was rudely interrupted by the rude sound of her doorbell. Without thinking, Veronica automatically pulled out the vegetable and walked over to the front door. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Electric meter," he said.

Oh no, Veronica thought. She was really stuck for a response, just could not come up with an excuse, so she quickly blurted, "Go away."

The young man was no doubt surprised and certainly not willing to destroy his route to suddenly. "Now wait a minute, mam, may I ask you just what's going on. You know, I have a job to do."

"Uh… I wasn't told you were coming."

"We come the same time each month."

For a minute Vern was tempted. After all, the young man had a rather sensual voice, and for a fleeting instant, she imagined seducing him once he was inside, taking his cock out of his uniformed trousers and sucking him as he put down his meter records and abandoned all thoughts of work.

But, no. She had made a resolution: this would be one solo week end. She'd get through the entire two days, entertained simply by her own efforts, without outside stimulation, without the aid of a single solitary soul outside of herself.

"No, I'm sorry, but I'm in no shape to receive visitors."

"No shape to receive visitors?" he repeated in credulously.

Perhaps it was the arrogance and sureness of her reply, perhaps the novelty of the situation, but he found himself quietly, almost meekly walking back to his truck and scratching his head.

That's that, Vern thought eyeing the cucumber and getting herself ready for a quick renewal of some action.

Suddenly the phone rang. Oh no, she thought, what wag could this be, rudely interrupting my sweet solitude, but again, rather than just ignoring it, she found herself dutifully answering – perhaps out of habit, perhaps simply to stop that annoying ringing which could possibly go on ten, fifteen times.

"Hello," she chirped.

"Veronica, how are you."

It was none other than John, and Veronica had a quick reply, "Oh, John, I was just thinking of you."

"Is that right. I'm complimented… I think."

"What's up, John."

"How about dinner and a show tonight, that's what's up. I have front row seats to that big new musical."

It was tempting. John, for all his faults, knew how to show a girl a good time, was willing to part with the green stuff enough to ensure entertainment – the whole bit: fine food, a good show, a good after show snack, then, of course, a nice evening of sensuality. Now, how did that compare to a cold cucumber, romping on her own rug, twisting her imagination, overworking her body until she would be too exhausted to know what was happening. But that was okay. If anything at all, Vern was a woman of decision, and once a decision had been made, she'd stick to it. She got rid of her friend easily enough, then returned to the kitchen and looked at her favorite cucumber. It was shinier than usual (she was aware of the cause of that phenomenon) which made it look all the more desirable.

Just looking at the scintillating object made Veronica hot, and the closer she moved to it, the hotter she became. It was sitting – almost innocently, like some addition to a salad or garnish for a main course – waiting for some assignment of role and action. Vern felt the heavy weight of her breasts as she approached it, and was aware of her supreme nakedness, the radical sensuality of her body. Would she be able to sustain her masturbatory fantasy throughout the weekend, forego the usual pleasures of entertainment and the flesh which could be hers for the taking, and sustain an effort, not built on reality, but mere whimsy and fantasy?

One whiff of her woman stuff on that vegetable was enough to make her feel optimistic on this regard. Forward she walked until she was face to face with her full mirror. Not bad, she thought, one piece of action. Her breasts, for all the manipulations they'd been through recently, looked fresh as could be; her legs were long, firm supports for her solid trunk, moving upward to a firm "V" which held her womanly treasures within.

She turned around so that she could glance at her broad, womanly back, which looked every bit as enticing as her front, all smooth and lovely. Of course, there were a few scratches, some red lines leading from around the side of her breasts to her lower back, then swirling suddenly upward toward the back of her neck. She pushed her dark brown hair upward in a bun. She was happy to see how surprisingly elegant she appeared – and that was a feat, looking truly elegant when in the buff.

She planned her strategy. The world, given her fantasy approach, was entirely open to her, an unwritten book for which she had blank paper and a welled inked pen. Would it be a night of elegance, of fashionable sport in high society, another orgy, hot and bothered like her little film experience, or perhaps more young cock, those juicy, ripe examples of boyhood who couldn't wait to get at her own ripe cunt and drive her almost wild with desire.

She wanted John, that was for sure. Why? After all, he was directly available in real life, a big hulk of a stud who could offer her a variety of experiences – from a hot dance in some hip disco, to a more stately evening in a society club, to a bound less orgy, all experiences he'd readily presented. Somehow, this touch of reality gave a presence to her imagination, rooted it on firm ground, and gave true continuity.

She'd remembered that John once offered her a most unusual experience, not unusual by any conventional standards but unusual in light of what was everyday to Veronica. He once approached her in the office and the following ensued.

"Veronica, you'll never guess what I have in mind for this weekend, plans in which I'd like you included."

"Mysterious, aren't we?"

Vern didn't like guessing games, never did, so she handled her lack of enthusiasm by some pointed sarcasm.

"Well, since you're so positive about it, I rented some equipment."

"What kind of equipment," she asked – but picturing kinky sexual apparati, like rough trade, or some sort of exotic costuming.

"Look, it's straight and simple, and a lot more wholesome than I'm sure you have in mind. What I'd like to do is something a little off the beaten track, different from our wild parties and society jaunts. I want to get out there, out where things are natural and real. You see – I rented some camping gear – not just your usual stove and trailer but the tough stuff, a little pup tent, and a guide to take us into the mountains where we can really get it on with nature."

"Now hang on," Vern had countered, "I don't quite think that's my style, not at all. I'm a city girl. You know that. I can't quite see getting turned on by exhausting myself climbing around a lot of rocks, getting soaked by the rain, caked up by the mud – besides there aren't any powder rooms out there."

"Come on Vern."

"No deal."

That's what happened and now Vern regretted it. She wished she'd taken advantage of the opportunity, if for no other reason, that it would have given her a new setting for hot action, a new atmosphere to get it on with the stud. But that didn't even cross her mind at the time; she was too involved with thoughts of creature comforts, of her fool vanity, which she should have realized wasn't even on John's mind at all – what difference what she looks like on a trip like this, he'd thought.

Now she'd make up for missed opportunity, rewrite the scene in her mind's eye with a vengeance. Veronica walked into her bedroom and orchestrated the dialogue the proper way. She glance at her clock, and felt drowsy for a second; it had been a rough day yesterday, and especially last night. Vern stretched out on the cool sheets, her sleek body dominating the spread, her arms stretched above her head and her breasts uplifted beautifully by the movement. Suddenly she was off on cloud nine, dreaming, languidly moving about on the sheets, and after several hours she awoke.

She jerked forward and glanced at the clock. One thirty, she observed, as if she'd almost missed an important appointment. Lucky I woke up, or I might have missed one fantastic journey.

CHAPTER FIVE

Veronica imagined what it would be like shoving off down the rapid river upstate, far from civilization, with their two young guides, one a nineteen-year-old young male, with a wild look in his eye, who called himself Buck, the other, an eighteen year-old girl calling herself Maggie, an odd name for someone so attractive and sensual.

Veronica could almost feel the wind on the river and see the frothy rapids which energetically, dangerously took them whisking downstream. She turned and looked at Buck and could see that he had a full crotch area which hinted to her that he probably had a nice cock hanging between those wild legs. For that matter, his friend Maggie was a nice stacked girl, all blond, tan and healthy, a buxom country lass who'd probably gotten her first experience in some barn or after a country square dance. But that was fine and gave the entire scene a certain romantic atmosphere, a difference from her office, with its sterile, urbanized sexuality. These kids were so much more straight forward, she thought, no nonsense, none of the beating around the bush, but probably just straight, hard action when they got down to business.

"Watch it," Veronica imagined Buck ejaculating. She moved about her bed, pretending to be amidst the dangerous rapids, their narrow canoe shuffled helplessly between the white peaks, Buck yelling orders about which way to paddle.

Buck then doffed his shirt in order to get a better handle on his paddle, and displayed a sinuous muscular build which immediately turned her on, a reaction which Maggie didn't miss, rapids and all.

In a few minutes they were past the real danger, and united in their mutual survival; there was something to having gone through the same thing with several people which draws a group together, and when the scene is created in the mind of one nympho, aided by her electric dildo, then the potentialities are all the more intense (the perfect setting for some really intimate dangers).

Veronica imagined how they'd have dinner with some fresh trout stick roasted over a wood fire. She could picture in her mind the handsome, rugged good looks of Buck, who would ravenously devour the fish, pieces of the fresh meat, stuck on the sides of his mouth, the buttery juice carelessly gliding off his lips and onto his chin. He would observe Veronica doing her own watching, and give her knowing kinds of glances. Veronica could swear that he crossed his legs in a manner which thrust his cock against the inside of his jeans, daringly outlining the stem against the material, outlining it proudly so that Vern could get an idea of its true proportions.

The group would go to sleep all in their mutual sleeping bags, but then, late at night, Buck would come over and silently get into Vern's bag, his body making the material of the bag stretch in order to accommodate her form. Vern had never made it in a bag before, and in order to simulate the experience, she wrapped herself in blankets in her bedroom, feeling the pressure against her breasts, the way her legs were pressed together such that every move had to be economized. Buck whispered in her ear, "If you never made it in a bag before, I think you'll find it quite a unique experience. You see, there's no room to move, so you have to move your room. Know what I mean?" Vern had no idea but she went along with the boy.

In a few minutes, he somehow managed to wrap his legs around her own and envelope her in his loins. She could tell that he had an uncommonly huge cock, not just a big cock, but a huge cock, a cock so giant as to dominate his center, so titan as to make her almost cry out in amazement and wonder how on earth she could accommodate the stud.

Would such a specimen put her into a comatose, an impalpable state of unfeeling, or would it be a brand new high? In order to approximate the sensation, Vern took the largest carrot from the table and brought it into the bedroom. She realized it was of incredible proportion, but by the same token, it was possible that some well endowed young lad could have such a token; it was conceivable though, no doubt, most unusual.

A cock? A rammer? A mere pecker? – or more than that, the epitome of masculine power and wildness, prepared and ready for her under the stars: the biggest fucking pecker she'd ever experience!

Veronica prepared herself to luxuriate in that cock, to ease her way into some new ultimate form of sensuality, to render her senses euphoric and completely satiated yet yearning for more under the onslaught of mere foreplay. Could such a stem be truly harmonious with her more modest pussy, or would it be an undue strain, beyond the point of diminishing returns.

Vern looked at the carrot, imagining it to be the man's fantastic endowments. The fat stem and the way it tapered ever so slightly toward the tip, its firmness and sinuous contour, its determined penetrating look. She feared it might create convulsion, a stitch in her sensations, or some other torment as she would be racked by the huge member; but on the other hand, the other possibility was enough to keep her going. It could mean untold pleasures, new, enticing sensations of even greater intensity than those of which she was accustomed (and given her recent experience, that was really saying something). She could feel the stud moving his hands against her thighs as he struggled to move in on her pussy. Such was the difficulty, and he be came kind of stuck just as he made his way below her abdomen. She wanted to help him, but found that the bed was just too snug for her to make any kind of move.

There was one dividend, though, in that she could feel her loins become plastered against his, his cock proudly erecting to its nearly full size, surfacing above her pubics and reaching almost all the way up to her belly button.

"Baby," she whispered hotly, "that's one tool you have there."

"I'm known for it around these parts."

She liked that, hearing him proud of his endowments, rather than sporting some mock modesty or worse yet, the vestiges of shame.

"Push," she whispered.

He managed to position himself lower in the bag – or so Vern imagined it – until he was just about a foot below her head, his chin digging decisively into her tits. He liked that too (and who wouldn't like getting a chin full of such magnificent, womanly, flesh) so he kept pushing against her, perhaps pretending that there was no other way to move, more likely intentionally taking advantage of a good situation. They both began their gyrations, their sexual pyrotechnics.

He finally managed to push his cock just up her thighs and into her slit. "Oh, baby," she cooed, "that's the way to do it." She pushed her bazoo against his and could feel his hot breath cover her lips with passion. "Come on, fuck me. Stick that giant inside of me all the way."

"You sure you can take it," he said by way of a challenge, partially just to get her wrath up a bit, and bring the feverish pitch to a nice climax.

"Fuck me,fuck me!" she whispered but with incredible intensity as her teeth were clenched and her shoulders pushed upward in desperation.

She looked at a certain glow over his face, created by the moon, and the wind, and the general quality of the air, which gave him a sort of eerie quality, but still highly sexual.

She heard some rustling over by John, and kept quiet, because the way Vern imagined it, she couldn't be sure if the stud would take it the wrong way. After all, he was fitting them with gear, footing the bill, and certainly didn't go to all the trouble to be kept out of the hot action he all but anticipated. But Veronica wanted this young buck for herself the first time, to have nothing divert her attention from his huge cock, the sensation of having it slide into her, first slowly, and then very, very quickly.

"Come on, stick it in me now, stick it in all the way."

"You'll get yours."

"I want it now."

"You want it now, do you? You want my cock, okay bitch, you got it," he said, whispering the last words for emphasis.

"Quick, stick it in."

With that encouragement, Buck was able to slide his cock in, first slowly, and then with a violent thrust until he was all the way in.

"Oooh," she moaned out. She could not believe how full she felt. In actuality, Veronica had pushed that carrot inside her womanhood all the way, and was experiencing very close to the sensation she imagined would be created by Buck's cock. The situation was intensified somehow by being surrounded and tightly bundled by the covers, her body kept prisoner by the material, yet her mind not wishing for freedom in any sense of the word.

"You mother fucker," she said.

"I know you like my cock, don't you."

"I like it okay, but more than that, I want you to come inside and then make me come at the same time."

Ordinarily, the excitement of having anything so huge inside would have made her come too soon, thus mitigating the possibility of simultaneous coming, but there was something about Buck which aided her self control, and allowed her to maximize the experience. Sure, he was such a figment of the imagination, but his mere specter was enough, the mere concept of the man, could keep her at a feverish pitch.

Whence came such feelings? From what pool of passion could such endless desires spring? From an overactive clit, a veritable unconscious filled with latent incestuous desires or a sense of impending doom which dictates epicurean delight, before the deluge, like some antediluvian impulse to self-preservation?

It mattered not, and such thoughts did not even pass through Veronica's mind. For she was too filled with more immediate concerns – the sensation of that thick cock, the concept of a pair of balls almost splitting from the pressure of their hot heavy contents, the physical sensations created by being bundled so tightly, like two sardines in a can, ready to be temptingly tasted.

She could smell Buck all the more poignantly, that mixture of sperm, tobacco, and sweat which characterized the most manly of men; he had it all.

She even felt the thick, incarnation of his flesh and blood pulsing against her own, and the coarse texture of his pubic hairs. Veronica imagined desperately trying to get down and feel his pubics, all scratch along his belly, or feel his upper legs, hips, and most of all balls, but she could not even move her arms without first splitting the bag (she would have gladly done this, but for the strength required and the possibility of wakening the others).

Buck started to really get down to pumping, somehow turning on top of Veronica and pushing his hips up and down. The scene must have looked odd to anyone looking down from one of the trees: four sleeping bags in the camp, one empty, inconspicuously pulled away from the fire, two filled, occupied by innocent sleeping types, one a girl, the other an older man; and finally the sight of this big, thick bag with the movement of a live worm, squirming, turning and twisting, quietly pumping away, far from the glowing fire, yet visible in the moonlight.

Impending disaster? Violence from a jealous boy, a mean man, liberated under a refreshing uninhibited natural setting? Not at all. Veronica was the director of this scene, and she wouldn't knock anyone off if she didn't want to, that is. Sure, if she found one of the studs talking a little mean, there was nothing to stop her from getting a little heavy, without fear of consequences: another dividend of the vivid masturbator.

"Come on, give me all you've got."

Buck didn't need much encouragement, for he knew they were minutes, perhaps seconds away from the big moment.

It all started to come together for her now – the great lay with John in the car, the fantastic young high school stud in the shed and in her parents bed, John and the party, with Monty and with Bernice and Lu, and now this, Buck and Maggie, waiting in her own bed. She'd had a taste of everything, young and old, straight and kinky, hetero and bi, the best of all worlds, pulling together, making her come like mad, and all thanks to that one little electric dildo and a stimulated imagination.

Come on Buck, she thought, make me come like mad. Make me want to pull this fucking sack apart, go wild on me like a wild animal. He was weighty, yet possessing a marvelous buoyancy, and a volatility which preserved her own relatively delicate form. She could feel their hips melt together as he pushed, pumped and grinded his way to ecstasy. Faster and harder he pushed, then in one great effort, he pushed his hands on her big boobs, which were almost cemented in place from the pressure of the straining material of the bag.

"Oh, that's it, squeeze those tits."

"You like that, I know you like to have your big, fat tits squeezed."

She liked to hear him talking dirty like that, especially enjoyed his abandonment of all the civilities he courted during his working day when he watched for their safety and guided them to whatever part of the wilderness they wanted to enter.

Now he was as wild as that wilderness, as uninhibited and ruthless anything in the environment.

Harder and faster he pumped, until he could see it was a little painful for Vern, but she didn't mind, and neither did he. They began to be ruthless, hardly caring if they woke the others, for nothing must stand in the way of their obsessional cravings. Then, in a sudden burst of energy, the stud's body tightened, and he paused as if frozen in space. His eyes rolled back a little into his head, his face became dangerously flushed, and every muscle in his body seemed to freeze simultaneously, waiting, imperiously, with a frozen, steely posture, as he gathered every ounce of energistic resource. Then it came (he came) in a wild, incredible moment, his body spewing forth, unloading the heavy contents from his balls right into the womanly receptacle, filling her with the pleasure of his syrupy sacks. "Ooh," he moaned out, almost crazy with satisfied desire.

Veronica went through the same sensations – or at least the female counterpart – as her body went into spasms of delight, each one more intensive than the last, more lasting and melting and fabulous. "Aggghh," she ejaculated, tightening her cute little buns, feeling her nipples getting even harder under the onslaught of the pleasure.

When it was over, they felt locked into each other, and only able to recover by breathing deeply and letting their minds go completely blank. Actually, they had covered some ground. Their movements alone had taken their sleeping bags the full ten feet between the fire and the edge of the wood, so that when they looked up, they saw they were nestled against the side of a mighty oak, its own shaft rising proudly for scores of feet above them. The rest of the trees were pine so that the ground was filled with a matting of needles, browned and decayed just enough to ensure slight softness, perfect for nature fucking.

Feeling wild abandon, Veronica imagined getting out of the bag, totally in the buff, and running through the woods, only lit by the moonlight. She was chased, of course, by Buck, whose huge cock was once again limpid, but filled enough to be remarkably large as he went prancing after her. She felt that he was gaining on her and was a little surprised that she could not muster greater speed – was it the weight of her large breasts bobbing up and down, creating a true wind resistant factor, or the fact that her great hips twisted sideways as she ran? – whatever, she was soon overtaken.

Buck said, "I must say, you've got a lot of energy for someone who was just run down."

"Run down, maybe, but not run out."

"You're one girl, do you know that?"

"I'm aware that I have a few talents of my own thank you, but I have to admit this nature stuff is all new to me." She looked down and admired his cock. "Tell me, do all of you country boys sport such big ones, or are you just well endowed?"

"Well, that's tough since I haven't seen all the cocks around here."

"Tell me," she said, diplomatically changing the subject, "have you always lived up here?"

"To tell you the truth, no. I saw some action in the war – I know I look young, but it was a young war."

"Funny, a guy like John, with his age and all, was behind a desk."

"I could believe that."

"I didn't like the way he handled himself in the raft."

"I wouldn't come down so hard on him. After all, he taught me how to swing, took me to some real parties, and was doing all sorts of things I didn't have the guts for at first."

"Like what?"

"Well, parties, for example. He brought me down to some orgies, and I got cold feet, but he brought me back, and I was okay."

"Not bad. You know, you do have quite a body."

"Why, thank you. I could tell you were turned on to me right away."

With a sudden motion, the lad turned and walked away, down a kind of path. "Where are you going?" Veronica imagined asking.

"Hear that?"

Veronica couldn't hear a thing.

"That's the sound of water, and where's a better place for round two than some water."

"Round two!" Veronica exclaimed. Hell, she was already a little sore from all the action a few minutes before, but this lusty young Buck had more in mind – well, that was one advantage to youth. She watched him lead the way, the manner in which he shamelessly tore through the bushes, his sinuous buns unbelievably appealing, and his big buns just visible between his legs, tossing to and fro like two sacks.

Sure enough, Buck led the way to a pond at the bottom of a trickling waterfall. The water was cool, but not unbearable and Vern watched as his balls became shrunken as a means of defense. He moved in slowly at first, then with more assurance, until he dived in over his head.

Just then, Veronica's imagination was rudely interrupted by the phone once again. She was going to ignore it at first, but then decided to answer it, if for no other reason than to stop that damn ringing.

"Yes?"

"Listen, I don't want to be a pest, but how about a date tomorrow night?"

"John… you don't take no for an answer."

"What's going on, Veronica, anyway? You're not really acting yourself, you know, all this cold shoulder routine, the phony excuses, the talk. I don't buy it Veronica."

"You don't have to buy it."

"No, really something's going on, and I'm going to find out about it. I just have this feeling that I've been on your mind, right?"

"I don't have to answer you. Who do you think you are, anyways. You spent the war behind a desk, right?"

"What… what the…"

"Never mind."

"No. I have the feeling you're on to something here. You don't think I'm colorful enough, is that it? Well let me tell you, bitch, I've done some time in the Caribbean, you know, getting mixed up with some shady types in a hotel deal, risking some real heat, then getting sealed. Colorful enough for you? You didn't know that about old John boy, did you?"

"Look John, trying to impress me isn't going to change anything."

Veronica abruptly hung up, then realized she might have made a mistake treating John in such a novel fashion. But that was it; she'd no intention of wasting any more of her precious weekend fling on such prosaic matters. The situation seemingly under control, she returned to her bedroom. Deciding upon an intermission in the festivities, the broad turned on the tube, watching a game show passively, admiring the body of the host, and the indirect passes made by both celebrities and contestants.

But then her doorbell rang. Without thinking, foolishly, forgetting her resolve, Vern answered it. Sure enough, it was John.

"Just thought I'd pop over. Mind if I come in?"

"Yes!"

"Thank you. Before you know it, we'll be best of friends."

John was already inside, lighting a smoke and making himself at home by sitting in a chair.

"Place looks a little messy, like there's been something going on around here. Been seeing anybody?"

"You have a nerve. I don't owe you anything, and you don't own me just because we go out."

"Such may be true, but you must understand, Veronica," he said snidely, "I really have your best interests at heart. There are some pretty seedy characters out there, you know."

"Oh, come off it John. You're just hot and bothered that's all, and if I'm downright jealous, only you don't know over what."

Vern became jumpy when she realized she'd left the box of her vibrator out. If John saw that, it could blow her entire cover, and he'd never let her forget it – and what's worse, spread it around the office.

"I'm afraid I'm busy John, now don't make me get nasty. Listen, if you don't get right out of here, we're through."

Then the big business man walked right up to Vern until her breasts, uncontrolled as they were under her bathrobe, touched his chest, and made him instantly hot. If only he knew he'd seen some action in her little warped imagination during the last twenty-four hours, his attitude would have been entirely different; but such wasn't in the script.

"Okay," she said, "I tell you what, there are some things I have to work out between you and me; let's just say certain things I want to get out of my system. How's this: you let me think it through, and I promise I'll call you at two tomorrow, Sunday, rain or shine. Fair enough."

Heartened by her sudden change of attitude, John backed off. "Sure, sure enough Vern. I just thought you'd flipped or something, but this sounds reasonable, very reasonable, and only a cad wouldn't allow a lady a few hours to herself. But please, do call."

"You know you can count on me," Vern said as she showed him out. Instantly she was relieved as the door closed and she ran to gather the dildo box, a telltale sign if there ever was one. Whew, she thought, close but then again, in this game a miss is as good as a mile. Vern wandered back to her room, then lay on the bed, instantly hot and bothered once again, and aware that it would be easy to begin things on her little nature trip – just picking up right where she left off.

Sure enough, she was able to picture that cold, night lake and Buck diving in ready for a skinny dip. "It's great," he called out, shivering a little, other wise seemingly alive and healthy, "Come on in."

"Oh no you don't, not me, not me, I'm no masochist."

But she moved too close to the edge and in an instant Buck grabbed her leg and in she fell.

Such was the facility with which Veronica could move to her private fantasy life, as if it were some real thing, a simple scene entered as easily as an up stage right entrance.

Veronica thought she could feel the water flow through her, wetting her, soaking her, but best of all seeping into her cunt and giving her a kind of nature douche. Suddenly, Buck was up to her, pushing his fast, lithe body against her own until she could sense that he managed to get one of his virile hands while swimming around in that cold water. "I don't know how you do it," she said, "but you sure have a way with your cock, getting it up whenever you want it, right?"

"Something about the country that does that to a fella, I guess."

Meanwhile, to set the scene back at the camp: John awakens, notices that Buck and Vern are gone, suspects hanky panky, but for that matter seizes the circumstances as an opportunity. He moves slowly over to the sleeping Maggie and kisses her lightly on the lips, knowing of three possibilities: (1) she could remain asleep, not the worst option; (2) she could awaken and rebuke him, possibly with a slap, a kick, or worse (that is the poorest option); or (3) she could awaken and give him the okay.

Since a woman does not grow jealous in a fantasy of her own making, Veronica was satisfied to let the couple go at it. "Well," said Maggie, "you sure do take your time. You realize that Buck's been coming on to your date for quite a while."

"Of course," John lied, "you know how these over-sexed secretarial types are… oh, but then again, I guess you don't."

Maggie leaned forward and kissed the man on the lips, which got him going immediately, got him into a state of sheer desire. "You are one nice girl," he added.

So complimented, Maggie slowly lowered her white top, exposing her large, magnificent tits. "Well, well, well, those are a pair, a real sight."

"I'm glad you like them. Why don't you get acquainted."

John pushed his face into the tits and lathed them in his own saliva, basking in the fullness, in the roundness, in the utter beauty of the whiteness of the skin.

He looked closely and observed that her nipples were exceptionally large, like fantastic red buttons, all ready and erect, begging him to lower his head and dig in as if in some sort of sexual and orgiastic feast. He kissed them, one at a time, together, then pushed the spheres in each direction, delighting in the action and in the slightly paltry color afforded by the moonlight, a rare and exotic touch. In addition, the wind on his back – raising bumps as it may – added another layer of excitement to the texture of the evening.

"What if they should return?" he asked conservatively.

"So what?"

"So what?" He paused, then continued, "You know, I think you're right. Here they've gone off for some hairy canary and I'm scary, sitting here wondering if I'm sinning. Boy, I've been a little twisted, but my little Maggie, you're helping me to see the light."

Just then he pushed his face right into her tits and began to kiss the entire area, passionately, most fervidly. In another instant the duet would have been enlocked in love had not Maggie slowed the pace slightly in order to wallow in the fun of foreplay.

He decided to get into the bag, but Maggie had other plans, quickly exiting hers and walking to a large exposed rock. She simply lay back against it, looking like a wild animal, ready to unleash her passions.

John quickly approached and was almost frightened by the look of total and complete abandon in her eyes, the look of a tigress, ready to love and ready to pounce. He enlocked her lips with his own, pawing her up the front, her tits and nipples, down below to her stomach. Her nostrils flared like a sex Goddess and her hips began to undulate, begging him to enter, inviting him to taste her insides. Then they heard some rustling, and realized it must be Buck and Veronica returning, but then they lowered their heads and the sound was gone for an instant. That was the way Vern liked to plan her fantasies, mysterious and lively, with the touch of the unknown and the dangerous lurking just behind, whether it be from man, beast, or nature.

What could it be, thought John? Are there bears up these parts, or other large game.

Reading his mind, Maggie whispered, "Don't worry, I can tell by the sound that those are human feet, so it looks like our friends are either returning from their jaunt or searching out some new locale. Actually, I think they're just rearranging themselves."

How right Maggie was on that score.

"Look," John said, overcome with passion, "I think, the hell with it."

Maggie began to play hard to get, as many a woman does when she knows that she has the man in the bag, and ran over toward the pond, as if she was aware where her friend Buck had been. Stripping on the way, she soon ran through the underbrush nude, except for a tiny strip across her loin miraculously held on by the force of the wind. As soon as she reached the water she took this away, also, and jumped in head first without hesitation, emerging unscathed but cold and tingling. John couldn't wait to touch the cold flesh, which he soon did, enveloping the girl in his arms, his big naked shoulders going half way around her naked body. He could feel the cold water between them warm, the slightly purple tinge to her lips melt into a crimson, and her face flush once again in the sexually healthy manner it had in the sleeping bag.

"You live dangerously, little girl," he said, then began to place his fingers right inside of her cunt, slowly at first, then with greater velocity, until he realized that he'd just about driven the girl to her first big "O" when he removed his fingers.

"Scud-lee-dud," she quipped, "taken' me almost all the way, then retreating, what is this?"

"Two can play hard to get, you know."

Suddenly, the girl took his cock between her fingers, then said, "In a manner of speaking – as we say in these parts – now I've got you by the balls." Admiring her spirit, John obeyed the orders to continue his finger fuck, which he did with spirit and gusto until he could sense she was just about at the "O". She began to groan out, "Oooh, ah," the faster became her breathing until her entire body began to go in circular motion, her feet positioned firm on the ground then standing on tip toes, on the ground again, and repeating the cycle.

As a madman runs from the asylum, as a flock of geese flies from the north in winter, so this man's cock knew its destination, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

"I'm going to fuck you Maggie, like you've never been fucked in your entire fucking life." With that he rudely penetrated, absolutely clawing at the girl's back until his nail marks turned into red streaks. But she didn't stop him, didn't stop him a bit as he fucked. In mid-fuck, he pulled out his schlong and demanded she suck it, a request she honored almost before he could ask.

Down she went, quickly and surely, her nose first making contact, the proboscis covered in jism, her nostrils flaring into the side of his fat meat, driving him, making him wild. "Baby, you know how to do it, you really know how to get to me!"

"Happy to oblige," she said coyly, with class and distinction.

Veronica had to pause in her fantasy. Even she could hardly believe how elaborate her theme had gotten, how detailed she was able to picture sexual happenings, from plot and character, to detail of body to dialogue. She'd never realized how her imagination could work once fueled by that electric dildo, the perfect creative accessory. And it was all hers, just she and the machine until the next afternoon.

The woman went into the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror. Not a classically beautiful face, but a sensual face, a face which demanded to go beyond what she knew previously, to constantly grow in body awareness, to take in more and more cock and know how to take advantage of a man's every move. Her lips were parted and she could just see inside into her sexy red opening. She had fine, high cheek-bones and large, wide eyes, which she made-up to maximize the effect, with black lines which drew endless compliments.

She admired the way she barely had a line on her entire face, nothing which was out of place. She was cute, maybe even beautiful, yet she was discovering the fun of doing a solo, the real girl, she thought, then paused… hand made… hand maid… She laughed at the pun, but was diverted by another angle of her face. She could see from this profile that she had an exceptionally strong chin, a chin which would hold up well over the years and retain her beauty, fighting a cruel and unremitting gravitation force. So there was plenty of time for men, which meant there was plenty of time for herself. And how did the saying go: one must take care of oneself first.

So she returned to her little country scene, the image of John finger fucking his lady then pushing his long, delightful schlong all the way into her as he pushed her body against the hard, sterile rock. "Fuck me all the way," she moaned as she clutched at his fat, distended balls.

"Squeeze them harder," he pleaded.

"What?"

"Harder, harder."

She squeezed them as hard as she dared and it seemed to only increase his excitation beyond a feverish and almost to an instant pitch. That's when he let the throttle out and just started pumping away madly. His thrusts were so powerful, so unmodulated, that he pulled her entire body up a full several inches with each penetration. He pushed in and out harder and faster until nothing short of another dynamo could have stopped him. Certainly Maggie wasn't about to, for she'd never seen the likes of this before from her country boys, even Buck.

Just then he pushed so hard there two bodies went straight down on the ground and it was fortunate for Maggie's tender buns that John was able to break the fall with his outstretched hands. The miracle is that the didn't come apart, but were only mutually cemented all the more securely.

Faster and harder he pumped, and spread legs apart with his own. He wanted to be blown, though; he wanted to come right in her mouth, so, without undue hesitation, he slid his wet, sticky cock out and brought it up to her mouth. She basked in the sheer abandon of it all, taking it within, tasting the salt and bitter, feeling the gooey texture, the sexy wetness which made her suck harder and with more passion than she ever had.

"Suck it, suck it!"

"Mmmmm, it's good," she moaned out before taking it in once again. The fellatio was going along superbly, the man just to the right pitch, the girl going at it as quickly as the man would like, then suddenly (if an instant came be considered such) his body lurched into the inevitable pre-come freeze. Just then Maggie had the same feeling, and the couple knew they were in for a simo (simultaneous). They came out together and went flying right over the edge.

The clutched together so severely that they might as well have been one person, not two, locked in amorous embrace. Soon it was over and they lay there huffing, but the wind was gentle and air a touch warmer, so that out of exhaustion, they no longer felt desirous of returning immediately, but rather made the mistake of taking a short nap.

They awoke naked when the sun burst over the horizon, at first timorous, then quite aware that under the circumstances they had not wronged. They slowly walked back to camp, looked at Buck and Veronica who were awake and ready to greet them, wide-eyed and anything but angry.

"Well," Veronica said, "we trust you folks had a good time?" – and why not? – anything goes in fantasy.

CHAPTER SIX

Veronica was a little disappointed to shake herself of the last wild fantasy. How she was able to manipulate John, and how different was his behavior than the real way he acted – no jealousy, just pure hard and simple action. Now he was going to call just the next day and demand explanation. Could she possibly tell him how much better off he'd be if he just loosened up a bit, rode with the punches and let her call the shots? No really. He was as hard headed, old-fashioned and stubborn as they come, she knew that, could tell that when she first met him.

Veronica remembered the first meeting in the office, how he bored her with his bragging and obvious ploys to impress, but some how that wall all ironed out when he took her to bed that first time and showed her that he was a real man.

Veronica decided to go take a bath and try to unwind a bit, because after all, it would be two on Sunday before she would know it, and then she'd have to come up with something really good, if for no other reason, to ensure that they didn't get into the same old bind. She took the towel from around her torso and made sure she drew a tepid bath. Satisfied with the temperature and quality and quantity of bubbles, Vern put one toe in the water. How different from her pretend outing, she thought. There, she took less time to dive into a wild pond than to go into a lousy tepid bath tub.

Well, she thought, you can't have it all. The water felt nice, especially inside her cunt, which, by any standards, had been given quite a workout. The options were opened to her; just as she could have some more masturbatory fun, she should also come up with something to explain away her uncharacteristic behavior. She could tell him she was physically sick but then again, he'd seen her, and she was up and about. She could tell him that she'd been seeing somebody else, but he was so jealous. It wouldn't be easy.

Veronica lay back into the hot bath. She could feel her cunt recuperating, the tiny muscles inside of her thighs regaining strength, as she lay in the water, as she stroked her breasts and spread around the bubbles. John wasn't that bad a buy; he'd his faults, but when you got down to it, he was a dynamo in the sack, relative to the other duds she'd been out with; no sense blowing it with over a dildo.

As the woman got out of the tub and began to dry herself off, she thought about the office. She realized that all her characters had some basis in the office, from Buck to Maggie, from Lu to Bernice. Sure, Buck was none other than the mail boy – it was amazing she hadn't noticed before. She'd lusted after the young stud, especially when he'd bend over to pick up the envelopes off her office, his muscular buns bulging through his trousers. She knew he was the outdoor type – most unusual for her stuffy office, and even talked to him about his trips upstate, where he'd do it all, from hunting to fishing, from eating his own catch, to sleeping right under the stars. She'd thought about making it with him, but there was always the specter of John who would be looking over her shoulder, checking out that she behaved herself and not to get out line.

But still, it was hard to resist. She did her little daydreaming at that time, picturing the stud as he whipped out his cock and offered it to her one late afternoon after everyone else had gone, gritting his teeth as she did her business. It would be a thick, healthy cock, coated with fine layer of hair at the base, surrounded by bushy pubics and he'd have a wild look in his eye as she'd do it to him.

No conversation necessary, it was a terrific fantasy, Vern going right down, taking the wet tip between her lips, then moving up, bringing more of the member in her mouth until she could not fit more, sucking on it, making it harder still. He groaned out, and held on her shoulder, but she didn't abate her moves, just intensified the blow. There was a sound in the other room, but the couple was oblivious, acting like nothing mattered accept his coming sure and swift.

He would come, too. He would spew his juices all over Veronica's face but she wouldn't care – even if it meant staining her dress or otherwise marking her person for sure recognition. She'd be out of her senses, without ability to ponder and consider, weighing the consequences against her pleasure. Such was the level of her ultimate turn-on.

"Oh did it, do it!" he'd moan until, suddenly he'd be writhing in painful passion, then spurting, squirting, ejaculating his hot, manly come.

That was Buck. Lu: executive secretary of the Vice President in charge of consumer relations, a bombshell, with such polish and style that Veronica envied her no end. After all, she got to go on business trips, to lead the glamorous life of the big city secretary with everything stacked in her direction, from expense accounts to the plushest office in the place, from a sexy voice and dynamite body to the attention of all the men she could ever want.

Lu would even make it with guys in her own boss' office; now that was nerve. Veronica watched one evening as she brought in this rugged looking man in a tux, then quietly closed the door, not even concerned that Veronica, who was putting in overtime, had seen her. Vern could hear some groans from deep inside the office, and when the man slipped out fifteen minutes later with a contented look on his face, Vern didn't have to use much imagination to know what had transpired.

Bernice: Bernice was a bit craftier in this regard. No downright siren, no obvious coquette, she was very much subtler. She had a conducive position (internal personnel relations) which allowed her to circulate. Vern could tell she was after action the way she looked at John when she came to hear of his complaints she just kind of paused and looked at his body, right below the waist, before she introduced herself. But Vern couldn't see how she flopped with John – who was always up for some strange meat – but she left looking a little frazzled.

Yes, they were all in the office, one after the other, the bases for Vern's little office flight. But now she was on her own, waiting for John.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and Vern went to sleep only to awaken at eleven, a mere three hours before she'd have to meet the stud.

When she gained consciousness, she was just as horny as ever. She knew what she wanted to do be fore the stud really came. She wanted to go through the motions in her own imagination, make the scene happen the way she really wanted it, to get off on the idea of his visit, per-affording some consolation for what could happen.

She imagined hearing the door ring and showing the stud in. "Oh, hello John, I hope you'll excuse the mess, but you see I've been playing with myself the entire week end."

"Wha…"

"That's right John. You see, you just haven't been satisfying enough to me, so I kind of took it upon myself to get down to some real fucking, using a dildo and one hell of an imagination."

Instead of anger, disappointment, dropping her like a door-nail, he just said it was fine, but that he could give her a better time right then and there.

Without another pause the stud moved over and began to gently kiss her on the neck. Then he took the initiative of going into the kitchen and returning with her whipped cream. Without even undressing her, he pushed the nozzle under her brassiere and she could feel the cream filling the cups, melting right over her nipples, cooling her down her hot tits and even driving her on the wild side. Vern took the can and put it under his belt, squirting it into his jockies. He yelled out from the shock of it all, but aware that he had it coming, he wasn't about to resist. He looked up, his eyes wide, face red, then pushed Vern down on her back until she hit the rug and felt his weight entirely over her, like some great northern grizzly.

"I'm gonna fuck you girl, better than you can fuck yourself, you'll see."

"You've got some stiff competition." She looked over at her electric cock.

That gave John an idea and he took it in his hand, pressing the buzzer and sensing its intensity. "I can see how you can get off on this – sure, why not. Its got hardness, its got vibration, all the elements of real turn-on."

He pressed it against her cheek so that she could feel the ticklying, prickling sensations and then pushed it lower on her neck. When he reached the upper part of her cleavage which he exposed by pulling down the top of her blouse, she could hardly stand it.

"Come on, fuck me with it… stick it inside me."

"Not yet," he said mysteriously.

Then he pulled down his trousers until his own cock was visible, large and erect. He put it side by side to the electro-cock and started to evaluate. "I have to admit, it is bigger, and harder at that. But you can't compare temperatures."

"Fuck me," she pleaded.

"You'll get yours, don't you worry, but a man likes to look at his competition, you know how it is, kind of see what it was you saw in this guy, I mean cock."

"Fuck this shit, come on now."

Veronica tried another approach, smiling seductively, moving over slowly and removing the remainder of her top, silently pushing her breasts against his thigh.

"Come now Veronica, can't you see I'm not quite through with my business."

"What are you trying to do?"

"It's a contest of sorts, you might say."

"With you the judge."

"That's right Vern, I may be a little prejudiced, but I always preferred a game with loaded dice."

Vern had enough at this point; it was her show. She pulled the cock out of his hand, then pressed it against his buns, finally pushing down his shorts and sticking it on the outside of his ass, pressing it around the rim. Here, she could tell she was really getting to him.

"Now wait a minute, oww…"

By the time she spoke, she had the cock half-way up his ass, no lubrication, no nothing. She started to move it about and he started to plead for mercy.

"Stop, oh, no, take that fucking thing out."

"Now you can see that's not the great thing you thought it was."

"Okay Vern, you win, it sucks, no competition for me, and I'm not jealous."

Her point made, Vern took out the dildo and threw it over to the couch, purposely throwing short so that it hit the floor, but it still remained functional. "I bet your cock couldn't take that kind of abuse."

John moved closer to her and pulled down her slacks and panties exposing her lovely pussy hair.

"Eat my cunt, John, the perfect way to celebrate." He moved down to her steamy cunt and began to lick her thighs, making her hotter as was his usual practice before getting down to heavier kinds of eating.

She compared his style and technique to her other imaginary lovers, only she was able to approximate the stud's real behavior because she'd known him so many times before.

He wasn't bad – perhaps the best. It was quite a transformation, the way he looked so respectable in his vested suit, the ideal of the dependable American businessman, but then could be transformed into a cunt maniac by the mere sight of pussy. She liked to see that change. It began when he loosened his tie, pulled it lower until he seemed to be getting to work on some project, then the look in his eye changing as he unbuttoned his shirt and ex posed the fact that he wore no undershirt. That always turned her on; a man who made no bones about his underclothing, eliminating the shirt. It made him seem more sensual, more on top of his desires, more… accessible. That was John, all right, accessible, MR. ACCESSIBLE.

It wasn't that his flirting with anyone in a skirt took her by surprise, but she did want some special treatment. The more he told her she was his favorite, the less he treated her kindly in the office, almost purposely making time with other girls right in front of her face. Who knows? Maybe she could tell him she was having an affair with a guy and that would get him in fine – except if he simply jolted her, then where would she be?

No, she'd have to play it nice and easy and just get out of her own hot water, hoping that the stud would play it her way.

"You like pussy, don't you John."

"You better believe it."

He continued to go at the broad, sucking, licking and generally doing everything that she could imagine below her waist, from petting her to feeling and sucking. She could hardly stand the excitement of it all. He knew he had her. He pushed his hands up ward over her smooth skin, the approached the underside of her knockers, digging his thumbs into the intimacy of the fold on the bottom, bringing other fingers up on top and making contact with his middle finger over her rapidly erecting nipple.

"Oh, ah, oh!"

She was where he wanted her, ready for some horizontal action. The stud pushed her down on the floor and positively jumped on her, rolling about like she were some carpet, her on top, then him, around and around they spun until they hit wall.

"Oh!" she cried out.

"Come on baby, you can take it. I know you like rough stuff."

And she did. She liked a big cock to take her by force, by brute force and subdue her to his own will, throw her about with violence and brute determination. He had all of that, the size and the stature to pull it off. She wanted to pull him off.

Veronica pushed him to the side and looked at his fantastic cock, big and manly. Without another pause, she pushed her thumb the entire length of the shaft and decided to do a little flicking up near the tip. She gently stroked it and then put more pressure, just on the tip now, no diffusion of energy, just straight ahead expert fucking.

"Oh, baby."

"Yeah, I know how to flick like nobody else, baby."

She was not being immodest, merely stating a fact. Vern knew how to sense just how far she could go before the point of diminishing returns, just how safe it was to take him to the point of the arch – that is the point where a man thinks he might come, but the broad is so on top of him, she knows how to bring him down before he shoots.

That's where they were now, at the big arch, at the point of explosion.

"Do it to me," he begged, losing all sense of judgment.

"Come now, I know you don't want this nice affair to be over so soon, do you now? That would be ruining the timing." She expertly used this opportunity to pause in her manipulations and let him get a hold of himself. "Now, that would be fucking up the timing, same as in business, like if you said to some client at lunch, 'come on and sign, right here, sign it and we can be on our way,' before the guy is ready – and that isn't good business. Now you're not ready to go on your way yet, are you John?" She liked be mg condescending on him like that for a change, for now, in all her youth, she had the upper hand.

"I'll know when you're ready."

She eased down the pace with some simple necking, gently tapping him on the back with her fingers and then kissing him slowly on the lips. It was still nice in a soft-core kind of way. She could feel a slight tingle from her lips, through the back of her neck and head, and almost shivered a little when she touched the hairs on his arm.

"Oh, baby, kiss me all the way," he moaned – he was hers for the taking.

Veronica continued to kiss easy, then put on more pressure until she thought he was down enough to get into gear once again. She pushed her hand lower on his stomach until she reached his pubics. He arched his back hoping for some cock action, sticking his genitals right upward so that the were the highest point of his body, his cock sticking up like a pole, but Vern wouldn't be pushed.

"Come now, my friend, you'll get yours… don't be hasty."

"Now you fucker, now you bitch."

"Hey," she teased, "unless you apologize this instant, you'll have to leave right now." (She had him by the balls!)

"Okay, you win, I'll do anything you say, just keep fucking me girl."

"I think I'd like to have my back scratched."

"You what?"

"That's right. Now do it, because if you have to be slow about it, I might get a little impatient and think of some more tasks." She thought it could be fun to have the stud peel her a grape or something equally demeaning.

He rose, kicked a pillow out of her way, then positioned his body so that he could turn her over.

"I hope you realize not many women would be able to get away with this."

"Guess I just have a few talents."

"You cock teaser!"

"That's right, I like to tease, but I deliver, too. I'll give you what you're looking for, and you'll get it delivered in a nice package. You go my way and you won't regret it."

The stud pushed her on her stomach and looked for her ripe area. She did have a fantastic back, no doubt about that, the way her shoulders arched broadly on each side, and her spine curved inward, a perfect slope down to her buns where there was the most desirable little dimple. He gazed in perfect admiration for several minute as Vern patiently waited for some action. Then he gently pushed his fingers along the spine, tracing a path down above her buns, finally patting her ass and then squeezing the skin.

"Oh, yes, yes, that's the way to do it."

He pushed harder and moved down the slit down to her dark, sensual underside, pausing for several seconds to really get it on down there, and push harder and faster, increasing the tempo from a languid waltz to an allegro and then presto. On and upward he pushed back up the entire length of her spine, pausing luxuriously by the sides of her breasts, then up the nape of her neck.

"Fuck me, push those fingers inside again," she pleaded.

"Guess the tables are a little turned my lady."

It was Vern's fantasy and she decided it was only fair to give the man equal time, because even though she was calling the shots, it didn't mean that he would have to receive all the blows. No that would be boring, would take the edge of excitement off the entire affair.

Now it was torrid, crimson action.

Suddenly, John took on a gnome like look, a ghoulish expression which made him into a fiend, an evil genius bent on fucking the hell out of this girl, taking her into the sky of action.

"You look a little strange."

John took his evil expression to the limit, enjoying his new hobgoblin identity.

"Oh, yes fuck me you demon!"

John stood so that his cock was visible. He looked gigantic as Veronica lay under him. She'd realized she had never seen a man from that position, where his cock can be seen from the underside, where his balls seem to hang ten inches and dominate his being, where his asshole is just sitting above, waiting to be manipulated and invaded by brave fingers.

He looked like a liege, a suzerain, the overlord sovereign of her passion, the patriarch of all sexuality, the potentate of passion.

Come on, she thought, stick that fantastic cock in side of me, stick it in my mouth and in my ass and best of all, stick it inside of my cunt.

"Suck me now."

This time she obeyed the commandment, sticking the schlong inside and sucking on the hot tip. She felt her entire mouth begin to burn with passion as she took it inside, the way it fueled her passion and enveloped her entire being, made her want to eat his meat and swallow his come, made her want to fuck, and suck and bring him down on top of her with such determination, frenzy and energy, that he could only beg for her to stop.

But not yet; there was still time for real action. Vern continued to go at the man, sucking it, taking in more into her mouth until she knew there was little more room.

She wanted to feel under the thralldom of his power, and enslavement, to be under the tutelage of his perfect yoke. She wanted to be taken to the limit, to feel his disciplined control subordinate her will to his own.

"Fuck me," he ordered, and she promptly obeyed in a sense, by beginning to not merely suck that cock, not merely push it in and out, but get down to some downright pumping.

It was her redemption, her extrication and acquittance, an absolution from her endless desires, from her determination to reach some ultimate climax. She sucked the shaft and was sure that it was somehow getting harder and hotter then when it first went in. How that was possible she did not know; how he could get himself into an even hotter state of fury was impossible to say; how he managed to sustain such a passionate level was also difficult to determine, but the understanding was secondary to the experience, the first thing that mattered was the straight forward fuck.

Then it was time for some lower kinds of plea sure, from the oral to the genital, the hard, straight forward fuck.

Vern rose and then moved down to the wall, fingering her way along the wall and seductively moved into the bedroom, wiggling her ass in such a seductive way, that John could not quite hold himself back while this siren got away. He chased her, spotting her position by the sheer sight of that great ass, those almost perfect buns which almost begged to be touched, to be manipulated and otherwise made erotic to a point of pure sex.

"Oh, do it, do it."

"Baby, I'm yours if you can catch me."

"No problem."

Within seconds, the stud had caught her, and his first action was to bury his teeth right into her ass, to feel the flesh pinken, rougify and then show the while marks of his choppers. "Oh, don't you brute," she mockingly protested. But that wasn't about to stop the stud, and he spread her buns until he could see the fine opening of her anus and below it, the very opening of her womanhood.

"Yes, fuck me, fuck me."

Veronica was rolling around on her bed now, imagining this scene, aware that the real John would be there in the mere matter of an hour, but unable to stop herself. She was nearly insane with passion, but would not, could not gear herself down. All discipline, self prohibition, imprisonment, incarceration of her passions was gone, and the only thing left to do was to give in and go with it, ride with the wind and love the pure gratifications of unrestrained sexuality.

She wished no exculpation, no punition for her drives, but simply gratification of desire which can only be meant in the form of a fantastic orgasm.

She wanted her body to be tied in knots, literally stretched to the limit and then given complete satisfaction.

Her shape was especially desirous, the short of her back as straight as could be, the deviation at the small of her back a perfect rendered curve, a festoon, a downright parabola of form, the perfect form.

Her partner could barely hold himself back, caught up in the undulation of her movements and the sexiness of her roundness. He couldn't control himself anymore and pushed her on her own bed with a force which almost destroyed the mattress.

She looked up at his incredible frame just before he unloaded his weight on the bed, his sculptured face, the sharp outline of his face, the contour of his hips, cut out of a finely hewn steely material, his hew perfectly contoured, a structural perfection. The amorphous, slightly intangible nature of his attraction had to do with his overall beauty, the radiation of his masculinity, pure virile strength.

She looked up at his half-moon as he turned around, the hook and crook of his hip, the curl of his hair as the wind pressure pulled it off his forehead. His buns looked positively polished, and sleek, even glossy but most of her tough and hard. It was like he was macadamized, so was he composed in his terrific structure. He knew she admired his ass, and as a way of fulfilling her, he backed up into her face so that she could kiss him there, right on the buns, right on the seat of his manhood.

"Kiss them, baby, and feel them, and do anything your little heart desires." He knew that the first thing – according to all the best polls – that a woman looks at, notices when she sees a guy walking by, is his buns. Why he did not know, but the important point was it was true. He used his ass when he found this out, used it in the office, neatly walking by a woman, turning his back, removing his sport coat as to make it as visible as possible.

"Kiss baby, kiss."

He began to feel her hot lips, first touching and then with great pressure digging in to her skin. He liked that, having her go down with such assurance and clarity of motion and form. "What a broad, what a fucking broad you are!" he said, delighted. "You've got one ass."

"Better than having two, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, no time for funny stuff."

It was quite a scene that she was able to compose, quite a fantasy and she didn't want it to end. Perhaps her desire for power made her enjoy calling all the shots and setting all the scenes, perhaps the fact that she was really nothing but an egotist, but whatever, she knew it was going to end soon, and as if out of a protest of this fact she continued her action stronger and harder than ever without easing one bit.

She felt like an equestrian, a tramp of sex, a globe-trotter over the entire surface of sensual experience, a nomad of sexuality. "Fuck me now, fuck me all over, fuck me inside my big healthy cunt." It was big and healthy, besides appearing well formed and juicy, her equipment was in peak operative condition, her juices flowing generously and spontaneous, her tissues will formed and pliable, able to adapt to any male challenge which would come her way (the thought of Buck i.e. carrot, proved that).

Then she had John push his pecker into her cunt slowly but with an assurance and a motion which she knew meant she was in for a fantastic situation, a terrific orgasm being built by the blocks of pumps and the girders of grinds.

"Harder, faster."

"Baby, I'm yours, I'm all yours."

She scratched at his back, creating marks, but he couldn't have cared less. She pushed her lips into his until they were almost crushed flat, but again he didn't care. She kicked up her legs and wrapped them around his back which would have knocked the wind out of a lesser man, but again he didn't care. It was all pure excitement, pure fuck pleasure.

Faster and harder, there didn't seem to be any end to it. It was the consummation of pressures and drives building for weeks. Sure, Buck was great with his fucking good times, his wild and natural abandon, the way he taught her in her mind to ignore any inhibitions taught by civilization and give in to animal instinct, and he knew how to do things no other man had ever attempted (the image of that hard rock was still on her mind) but regardless, he still didn't come up. Sure, Monty was all stud, too. And the women. She'd never tasted what excited men so about female tit, but now she knew, the softness, round contour and especially the nipple which erected and seemed like the source of all plea sure. She knew all of that was there. But John held the attraction of being flesh and blood, a man she'd really known, and therefore knew his potentialities, which were not being met.

Now she could work with a given, take something which was known, improve and expand upon it until it became a real piece of perfection.

"Fuck me," she continued, and he pushed in deeper, until it felt she could not possible accommodate another piece of him, but just at that point, he managed to move against her even further.

"Oh yes."

"Baby, I'm really fucking now."

"Fuck all the way."

"All the way baby."

He was inside all the way – there was nothing more to be done, nothing but move the path to ecstasy, the entire route to pure passion.

"Fuck me!"

He was pushing against her just about as hard as possible, about as thoroughly as he possibly could, until she almost couldn't bear the pressure, but made the motion for him to ease off. She felt his balls push against her thighs in rhythmic patterns, with every thrust as they obeyed the laws of gravity and force.

"Fuck harder, all the way, with everything you've got."

"Baby, you asked for it, and you're going to get it."

Harder he pushed, kissing her violently, passionately all over the face, on her forehead, upward to her hairline as he pushed his hands through her hair, on her nose, touching her nostrils with his tongue, on her high cheeks, wetting them with his spittle. He kissed her lips, opening them with his tongue so that he could get at her beautiful insides, merging his spit with her saliva, until he knew that she was his for good.

"Fuck me, oh this is too much, too fucking much."

"Baby, kiss me harder."

She pressed her lips against his until she was sure that he could take nothing more.

Then to her utter amazement he said, "More, give me more."

Wishing to oblige, going with the stud all the way, she pressed harder against his lips and then moved upward – somehow, someway – until she was nearly even with the top of his head, until she could stick her superbly erect nipple in his mouth. He bit down on it with such enthusiasm that she could hardly believe that she didn't mind the pain – another advantage of pure fantasy – short of carrots, its all in the mind, psychosomatic.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck all the way."

He managed to slide his cock out because he was overcome with the desire to fuck her tits.

He looked at his cock. It was hot and sticky all right, covered with a few drops of sperm which escaped, but most of all her magnificent lubrication which made him shine and gooey.

Then he laid her on her back and she pushed up her knockers to make them ever more prominent. Somehow her nipples looked even larger than ever, two spheres, covering almost the entire front of her mammaries, perfectly centered with a teat looking as hard as a rock, ready for the heavy stuff.

"Fuck me," she repeated for the hundredth time.

"You get yours, baby."

He began to suck at her, to nose her up and stomp her face with his tongue, then moved his body higher, until his cock was even with her abdomen. He liked pausing there for a second, just feeling her pulsing belly under him, pressing up at him as he pressed down, waiting for his every move with impatience and desire.

Then he made it up to her tits, and just made contact with her erect nipple, touching it, the thick skin of it, the lush top and side of it, with his fat cock which was larger and somehow more swollen than it had ever been before, which was just waiting to unloosen the loads filling his sacks below.

"Baby, I want you right down to my socks."

She pushed up her hands and touched him there, which made him squirm, but it was a squirm of desire and pleasure, not of retreat and bothered reaction.

"Fuck my tits."

He began to press the tip of his dick into her knockers until one full drop of jism escaped onto her, a perfect little indication of what was to come.

She looked at his cock, perched between her breasts, which she pushed together in order to hold the hot stem in place. She told him to move upward until she could feel it under her chin, and then by moving her head up and her chin down, she was able to taste the tip of it with her lips. It was a fucking fantastic sensation, the thoroughgoing invasion of her private parts by those genitals, and his balls hugging down on her lower chest, just under her breasts.

He began to pump, softly, then harder, until he let the throttle all the way out once again, driving her, taking her on one fantastic sex ride which could only end one way: splattered, bathed in hot jism.

He kept moving, kept grinding his hips without stopping.

It could lead to only one place.

Veronica got up and went over to the shower. His cock was so engorged with blood, so fucking heavy that he had to hold it in his hand as he followed her into the steamy stall.

She was alone as she turned on the warm water, first burning hot in order to create a nice mist, then more bearable when she entered it, but she might as well have been with her young stud, the room was so filled with his presence. She could almost feel his big cock against her thigh and then push against her rear bun.

"Oh, fuck me in the water, right here in the shower."

She picked up a piece of soap and imagined what it would be like to soap him up all over, down his chest, creaming up the hairs on his chest and making her way down his stomach to his pubic area, first matting the hairs and best of all, bathing his cock in the creamy soapy material. She wanted to go without stop, without mercy and without restraint.

He obliged and took her hand in his, soaping up his balls, until they were covered with fluff, entirely engulfed in the bubbling, steamy white stuff, ready to unload their own contribution to the mixture.

"Come on baby, this is it."

"You're going to come?"

"I'm not exactly going."

She wanted to be in on this, or rather more correctly, have him in on her.

Veronica took his bubbling member and stuck it right inside of her cunt, but just as she was doing this, just as she was getting it deeper and deeper inside, almost all the way in, just about as far as it would go, she felt in the bottom tube on the underside, a strange swelling, then the distinct and sure movement of a thick and viscous substance, making its way out in an explosive move.

"Agggh, ahh," he moaned out as Vern pushed her hips flush against his in order to cement the relationship.

"Aggggh!" she moaned when she felt him spurting and she realized that this was the big moment they had both been waiting for with passion and with abandon.

This was the big one as the vixen took in the spurts and let him fill her with his fantastic jism. Right when he was spurting he took the cock out of her in order to place it on her body, to cover her with the jism and afford the opportunity to look at the love juice. Even the pounding, steamy water could not dissipate the material, nor make her diverted from the full pleasures which were engulfing her. For a minute, everything was too strong, too many of the pleasure centers of her brain had been tapped and she felt dizzy as if she could go unconscious. But then she was able to rally her senses and feel the hot jism being driven down her thigh from the force of the water. He was exhausted, or so she imagined him to he, and she brought him over to the bed for a smoke.

It was very real to the girl. She'd been in the shower for real, had been sticking her own, now very experienced fingers, in her cunt, and had really come. So adding the image of a man, an exhausted man, and his thick jism was not all that difficult. She lay on her bed, alone, but not really alone. She imagined conversing with the stud, about how hot they got, about how fantastic it was doing it in the shower, about how things could never quite be the same between the two of them in the office now that they knew what they could do, in bed, in the shower, hell, in any place they might choose.

Then, after several minutes of such rest, the broad imagined looking over at her love partner and she almost couldn't believe her own thoughts when she conjured that great big cock, once again hard and virile. She was desirous of it herself, for as long as he could remain excited, she could be taken beyond the point of orgasm, to secondary orgasm, and tertiary orgasm if available.

She moved over to the member and began to stroke the top of it, moving down to the glans and then the very tip until the opening itself was pulsing in and out, alternately expanding and contracting as if possessing its own level of excitement, as if having a mind of its own.

She took that cock between her fingers and gave it the old going over until it was right where she wanted it, perfectly excited to a T of perfection, all hard and virile, ready to penetrate or vituperate, or do anything that she might have in mind.

"Oh come on baby, let's do it again, let me fuck you all over again, just like it was the first time."

He was so incessant, so desirous of doing it one more time that she let him go at it.

No, there was nobody in the room but Veronica, that is, Vern and her magnificent dildo which allowed her such creative fantasy, but it still didn't matter. "Tell you what," she said, "why don't you allow me to go change into something comfortable, you know one of my sexy little nothings which can drive you wild just looking."

She went into the corner of her bedroom and chose a particularly sheer negligee, one that was exceptionally transparent. When she turned to the side – which she did deliberately – her breasts were in gorgeous profile, outlined by a stream of light, their roundness spectacular and the cherries digging into the front of the material perfectly out lined.

She walked up to where she imagined John to be standing (still with glorious boner) and pushed herself against his chest until she could feel him straining against her tits. Then she took his hand and cupped it over her breast until the pressure dug into his palm and sent into rapturous desire.

"Let me fuck you this final time, right now," he pleaded.

"Yes, I guess you've behaved fairly well, as a matter of fact, my friend, you've done okay the entire week end, from taking me to that place to the jaunt in the country, from bedroom stunts, to doing it in showers, wet or dry, nude or wearing some scant garb. You're one stud."

He was turned on by her compliments (his masculine ego thus fed) and he pulled the sheer top down so he could see much of her cleavage – actually he'd pulled it to just above the nipples, which was perfectly clear, since he could see the nipples under the cloth in any event.

"One last time! Fuck me one last time!"

The entire scene was so vivid in her mind, and her cunt was so hot, that it was beginning to be difficult for our Veronica to distinguish fantasy from reality, until it seemed strange to her that the man she was balling was simultaneously on his way over to pick her up. She glanced at the clock, and, observing it was fifteen minutes until two, knew that she had to work fast. Hell, she wasn't even dressed, but nothing would stop her, pull her away from this great, last fantasy, masturbatory fuck.

No, she imagined telling him, I won't give you up. I won't let you dissipate in my mind until I get one more juicy orgasm, until you take me all the way one more time.

"But there isn't time," he pleaded.

"We'll risk it. We'll make time."

"You live dangerously."

"It's the only way to live."

"Okay bitch, here goes. But I have a real temper and when I show up at two, I don't want to find any competition, even if it is from my imaginary self."

He jumped on her and fucked, pushed and ground until she almost cried out in pain.

He pushed against her tits.

He ground into her.

He rammed his pecker almost as far in as it would go.

It was a fucking good time, but the clock pushed forward and for that matter, her dildo was beginning to show the wear. It was sputtering a bit, and it looked a bit frazzled around the edges and almost cracked toward the tip.

"Come on," she said, "don't fail me now whatever you do. This counts, really counts. I want it this one last time."

Harder she pushed it inside of her, even abandoning her fantasy in order to give exclusive attention to coming, to making herself go to the big "O". Like some kind of addict, she felt if she could just have this one last fuck, this one last orgasm, she could meet John and take him on his own fucking terms. She wanted this one to remember, just this one alone, all by herself: solo. "Uh," she moaned out, then glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost two. She only had a few minutes left, just a few minutes to make herself go over the top. She felt her tits, violently rubbing them together and apart, exciting herself to a higher plain. But her mind might have been confused; never had it been so stimulated, so intensely and quickly after a past orgasm, and for that matter, had delivered so many climaxes in such short notice. But that was okay. This was a first, all round, and she felt cheated if her body would give up on her now that she was on the home stretch. Her nipples were erect as could be, a good sign, just sticking out in front of her, perching upward as if looking for a man, some big stud to give her hot action.

"Ooh," she groaned and saw that it was one minute to two. She could make it; she could go over the top in a minute, in one fantastic sixty seconds. Harder she pushed on her stick, her electric cock. The week end was ending just as it began, just her and the electric cock, no John, no Buck, no Maggie Lu and Bernice, just solo all the way, nothing to excite but pure sensation, the individually unique qualities of hard plastic vaguely shaped to resemble a real live pecker.

"Come on, come on," she pleaded. "Do it to me, go all the way you plastic cock." Harder and faster she pushed like a she-demon, like an addict who has to have a fix, incessantly pushing and grinding, perchering her back up and shaking her big tits wildly. She was all woman, all animal, a tigress, a bucking woman stud who was not going to stop until something broke, her cunt or her dildo, one or the other.

"Aggh, agggh," she pushed out of her throat. She looked at the clock, with the second hand racing against her own passion, twenty… Fifteen… ten seconds away from the zero hour.

Then with nine… Eight… Seven… to go, she came, in one sudden rush of blood enveloping her pussy and brain at the same time, a fucking fantastic release to the rescue.

"Aggghhh! Agghh!" she yelled out – exclaiming in pure delight over the unique and torrid experiencing, then falling back helplessly and entirely spent, as the second hand continued its odyssey, three… two… one BINGO.

It had been the fastest, yet one of the most unique orgasms of her entire life – a life not without experience.

There was only one thing left to do. She languidly walked over and put on her robe, then made her way to the front door. She opened it just as John was about to ring the bell – he always was punctual.

"Hey," he said sprightly, "you'll never guess what I have planned, and you really should get dressed right away. We're going upstate, because I've rented a whole bunch of gear and we have Monday off, and best of all, I've got the two best guides in the area, a young boy and girl, about twenty I think, and very enthusiastic about their job!"

Content

Ned Samuels
Hand maid

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX