CHAPTER ONE
My cunt was filled with ten inches of hot, throbbing cock. The fit was so tight I thought I would scream.
Inside, I was tense. In knots.
Repeatedly, I'd come to the brink of orgasm and then failed. The harder I was fucked, the more frustrating it was for me. This affair was turning out like all the others.
"Fuck me harder, harder!" I forced myself to beg, even though the phallic jackhammer splitting my thighs was already killing me.
Despite my suffering, I was not yet ready to give up my quest for an orgasm. Through the agony, I wanted to come so bad I could taste it.
To emphasize my willingness to go to the limit no matter how much it hurt, I wrapped my legs around the hard-fucking owner of the hard-on splitting my guts, yanking him into me even deeper. I could feel his balls broiling against the lips of my pussy.
"Holy shit, Angie," he cursed my name, "you're twisting my Goddamn prick off!"
"Just shut up and fuck me, Dick Tracy," I masked my inner turmoil and purred. "If I wreck your pistol, I'll get you a new one. They're doing wonderful things with vinyl these days."
That brought a lopsided grin even to the craggy face of the lieutenant. Roy Parker had a reputation for being a no-nonsense cop, but he was just a big goofy kid once he got his cock in my pussy. Let's face it, the most famous cop in the city – almost a cinch to be elected the next District Attorney – was just nuts about me.
And, in most ways, I was pretty crazy about him too. The only problem was that "most" does not, comprise 100% of the pie. At the bottom-line I had a glaring deficiency that warped my whole existence.
I couldn't come when a man fucked me. Only masturbation could draw forth the squeal of ultimate release which otherwise eluded me.
Why beat around the bush about it? Frigid is what they call it. I was frigid.
But that wasn't the entire story. Had I been just normally frigid, with no interest in sex, I might have cheerfully become an old maid building her own little empire in an upstairs library. Alas, things were not that simple.
To my utter dismay, I was a frigid woman who was constantly turned on by sex. When my husband, Tom, couldn't satisfy me, I went out looking for other men in self-defense.
In the beginning, I'd been sure my lack of fulfillment was all Tom's fault. However, after a series of affairs without a single orgasm, I was forced to sadly acknowledge the blame was mine.

Still, despite batting zero, I never stopped searching for the perfect fuck. Most of the time I could still psych myself up that the next man was going to be the one to make the difference in my life.

It wasn't any lack of love for my husband that caused my many affairs. Truthfully, I loved him a great deal but, unfortunately, through no fault of his, just short of orgasm with him. Marriage could give me all the material comforts, but it couldn't provide the climax I so desperately craved.

Of course, so far, adultery hadn't been any more fruitful than monogamy. Even though a handful had brought me to the brink, no man's plunging cock had ever succeeded in pushing me into the orgasmic abyss.

Frequently I wished that I could just turn my back on it all. Say, "What the hell, there's more in life besides sex."

But I could never make myself believe it.

The more I tried to get away from sex, the more I thought about it. My mind would become uncontrollably infested with explicit images of cocks and pussies. I'd get so horny that I'd have to masturbate. After I'd made myself come with my own hand, I'd optimistically convince myself that it was all friction and any man's cock could bring the same result if I gave it a chance.

So, shamelessly, I gave tock after cock the chance to validate my theory. The fact that they always turned up losers had never stopped me from trying again.

Until now.

Yes, I was starting to wonder if this constant playing around was worth it. Not only was I getting no orgasm from it, if my husband found out I might lose the security of my marriage and home.

When I'd hooked up with Roy Parker, I thought more than with any of the others that he might be the one to finally light my fire. He was such a man's man, as a woman I couldn't resist him.

Roy was so dynamic – a man on the rise. Ruggedly handsome. A hard body. A cock the size of a stallion's. If he couldn't take me over the edge, what man could?

And to his everlasting credit, the lieutenant brought me close several times.

Did I say close? Teetering.

Please let me fall! I prayed over and over again to myself as Roy rammed his enormous cock to the depths of my pussy. Let me go down the big black hole!

But, right up to the present, it was all in vain. No matter how hard the lieutenant fucked me, I couldn't come. The tense pain passed as I realized the obvious and I felt like I was hanging in mid-air.

On the top, Roy couldn't have been any the wiser. He'd reached the point in fucking where the male thinks about nothing but turning his nuts inside out. There's nothing in the universe but the cum he's about to explode.

"Unnnnh… unnnnhhh… unnnnhhh," he grunted in triplicate as he ground the tip of his dick into the farthest reaches of my pussy. His cock seemed like it had grown another inch in the last second.

Convinced I was never going to come, I felt like a robot, programmed to make all the right movements without emotion. When Roy made his ultimate thrust, I automatically responded by wiggling my ass.

My body had never felt more efficient. Or cold. "Come, you bastard," I dutifully cried, "come in my cunt!"

"Abhhhhhhh!" he moaned like a speared whale. Suddenly he was coming a ton up my pussy. The excess was already dripping from my thighs.

"Oh, your cum is so hot," I told him. And I wasn't lying – it was. If only it had made any difference to me at this point. Chicken soup would have had the same effect.

"I know it, baby," he arrogantly panted. "All of us cops shoot hot lead out of our pistols."

"I thought you police sharpshooters were supposed to aim between the eyes," I cracked, not between the lips.

Unfortunately, my joke did not divert him from asking the question I most dreaded. "How was it for you?" he murmured in my ear as he worked his dick around in the sloppy goo of my cunt.

"Terrific – it was terrific," I lied. "You've got a marvelous cock."

"Then why didn't you moan?" he persisted with his unwanted inquiry. "I like the women I fuck to moan."

"Then I'm not the first?" I tried to tease him out of it.

"Put a lid on that bullshit!" he barked like he was browbeating a suspect. "You didn't come and you know it, Angie. Spill it."

Sadly, I nodded my head. I was on the verge of admitting to him that I was frigid. But, then, when he said it first, I couldn't go through with it.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, like he had just solved the crime of the century. "It's not my fault. It's you – no man can satisfy you. You're frigid!"

"Negative, it's you. You just don't know how to satisfy me," I impulsively upped the ante in order to conceal my secret.

"What're you talking about?" he replied with gruff defensiveness. I was getting to him.

"I'm surprised you haven't thought of it yet," I taunted him. The intrigued expression on his face told me that he had forgotten all about my alleged frigidity.

"What?" he blurted like a little boy trying to guess his birthday present.

"A woman has more than a single tight hole between her legs," I met my own dare. With that, I grabbed his big dong out of my cunt and began rubbing it against the puckering knot of my anus.

"You want me to fuck you in the ass, Angie?" the normally hard-bitten cop gushed in awe like a kid confronted with all the ice cream he could eat.

"It's the only thing that makes me come," I lied, wishing that even such limited orgasmic privileges were mine to enjoy. Other than by my own hand, I was a washout.



"It's gonna hurt," he leeringly promised me.

"It better," I shot back, too far in now to back out.

"Okay, then, lift your legs straight up in the air and spread your cheeks," Roy got efficiently down to business now that I had burned my last bridge behind me in my attempt to save face.

Rocking back on my shoulders and neck, I did as he said. Practically in a head-stand, I parted my legs until the thighs ached. When I seized my buns and pried them open, my exposed asshole seemed to unzipper.

Looking through the exaggerated V of my legs, I had a perfect view of Roy's assault on my second fuck-hole. It was scary imagining the taking of his full ten inches up my narrow shit-pit.

But even though I was frightened, my actions continued to be heedless of my safety and dignity. It was degrading, but I just couldn't turn off the switch.

So, like an alien to my own ears, that's me huskily sighing, "Hurry up and fuck me in the ass, Roy. Fill my tight asshole with your big, strong cock."

His prick was as hard again as it had been prior to coming in my pussy. The prospect of getting a little chocolate cock had endowed the 35-year-old police lieutenant with the recuperative powers of the teenage punks he claimed were responsible for half the crime in the city.

He grunted like he was about to take a plunge into icy water, and then made his move. His thrusting hard-on was abruptly blotted out by the fringe of my pubic hair as it moved on target.

I gasped with pain as the barbed head of Roy's prick stabbed into the center of my anus and achieved an inch of penetration. I didn't need to see what was happening when I could feel it this acutely.

Besides, what my eyes didn't provide, my runaway imagination had started to supply. As Roy steadily worked his huge cock up my asshole, my mind became uncontrollably engorged with the act's mirror image.

Those were my inflamed anal ridges I was watching being roughly pulled back and forth so Roy could wriggle more and more of his brutal dick inside my tenderest hole. Without any special lubrication, the friction of his cock fucking my sass seemed to produce sparks.

There was no need for me to say anything further. I'd lured him inside my butt, and now that he had his prick in, he would stop for nothing. He was going to fuck me all ten inches in the ass, and then come like a river in my bowels.

When I felt the first drop of his cum in my colon, I'd have to remember to moan so he'd think I was, having an orgasm. I'd never get him off my back unless I satisfied his male pride by pretending that he had made me come. Then I could get him out of here, at last, and work on my problem by myself.

However, as Roy penetrated deeper and deeper, I started to lose all my confidence. I became convinced that I couldn't successfully fake a climax and my secret would be out.

God, if only I could come, I lacerated myself.

Then, instinctively dropping my hand to my pussy, I realized that I could. It would just be masturbating, but Roy was so busy plowing a furrow up my ass that he would never notice I was playing with my cunt.

Although inch after inch of his cock buggered into me, I managed to shut Roy out of my consciousness and concentrate on my pussy. With two fingers squeezing my clitoris, I began the ascent of the orgasmic ladder the only way I knew how.

I didn't even feel it by the time Roy had penetrated to the hilt. His balls squashing against my cheeks were the only way I had of knowing. By then, the good feelings pouring from my fingered cunt had made me all but oblivious to the bar of iron up my ass.

The brutal images of cornholing had been replaced in my consciousness by my slender fingers expertly giving my aching pussy what it wanted. My cunt glistened like a diamond as it triggered the flowing mechanisms within the interior.

Then came the spasms the expansions and contractions and I knew I was on the right road at last. I was going to come!

"Oooooooh, it feels so goooooood," I moaningly congratulated myself. The uninformed Roy, of course, thought I was complimenting him.

"All in a night's work, babe," he grinned lopsidedly, certain from my long-awaited moan that he had finally made me come. As long as he didn't notice my gouging hand at my cunt, nothing I would do would dissuade him.

I didn't have to act now. I was really coming. My pussy was teeming with the chaotic release of bottled-up sexual energy.

Really showing off now that he was sure he'd made me come, Roy began operating his cock like a battering ram. Huge thuds boomed in my bowels as he brutally slammed away toward his conclusion.

"If you like it now," he boasted, "wait until I come."

Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, I thrust my entire hand into my gaping pussy and held on for dear life. By the time Roy finally came, I was fist-fucking myself.

There wasn't enough space between my rectum and my twat to keep Roy's cock and my knuckles out of each other's way. With the addition of about a pint of cum to the limited stricture of my anus, some kind of collision was inevitable.

When it happened, the result was even more extreme than I had anticipated. By chance, the striking surface of my knuckles slammed through the meaningless membrane against the withdrawing head of his dick. Roy's shock was so great he instinctively jumped back. When his cock popped loudly out of my asshole, we both went flying backward like losers in a tug-of-war.

We landed on opposite sides of the bed, out of each other's sight. On my side there was already a puddle forming on the floor from my cum-leaking anus.

"Roy," I called, when I didn't hear him stir, "are you all right?"

I could just see the scandal if he was found naked in my bedroom with a broken neck. I'd made up my mind that if I could just get him out of here this would be my last affair.

However, before I could call his name again, I was distracted. It was a noise – I dared not guess what it was.

I looked everywhere for the origin of the noise. Everywhere, that is, except for the source that could signal the direst of consequences.

Finally I had run out of possibilities. Having no alternative, I looked toward the door and anticipated the worst.

Yes, to my horror it was open. What I'd heard was the door opening. Suddenly a man filled up the space.

"Tom," I called my husband's name, certain I had been caught cheating, "I can explain everything."

His response was to stride wordlessly toward me from the doorway. I didn't have to confirm it was Tom's face because I was too busy looking at the muzzle of the gun in his hand.

I opened my mouth to speak again, but the words were literally crammed back down my throat. The thick barrel of the gun suddenly engorged my mouth, penetrating so deeply it brought tears to my eyes.

Oh, Jesus, I hysterically thought, Tom's gone crazy with jealousy! He's going to blow my head off!

Fighting to see past the tears of pain, I looked up to beg with my eyes for mercy. I didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified anew. The man I saw was not my husband.

"Just don't make a move, bitch," the burly bearded man with the gun in my mouth barked. "If you do it won't bother me any to make minestrone out of your pretty little brains."

I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I was so tense I thought I would shatter, making that one false move that could cost me my life.

"Okay, now," the guy said, "slowly – very slowly – I want you to get up on your knees."

Agonizingly I tried to do as he said, but I was paralyzed.

"Come on," he insisted. "Get on your knees and suck my Magnum like you were sucking my cock."

Risking instant decapitation, I shook my head that I couldn't do it. I was a helpless puddle on the floor.

"Calm down," he surprised me by taking a more civil approach. "You behave yourself and you won't get hurt. You're not the one we want."



I saw, what he was talking about when two guys came out of nowhere and swept to the side of the bed where Roy had fallen. Whatever these men wanted had to do with Roy.

"Parker's not here!" one of them behind the bed yelled.

"But we all saw him land there," another man reminded the others of their earlier eavesdropping. "He's got to be around here someplace. Parker's a slick cop, but he's not magic."

They started to form a more comprehensive search. However, it was aborted with dramatic suddenness.

"Don't move, you bastards," the voice of the search's object filled the room like the hiss of a steam-pipe. "I can waste any one of you right from where I'm at."

Looking down, I saw Roy lying on his belly under the bed, clutching his.38 Police Special in front of him. When he'd figured out we had visitors, he must have grabbed the pistol from his pants on the floor and then rolled under the bed until he could make his move.

"Who are these people, Roy?" I blurted the minute my bearded assailant thought his chances might improve if he removed his gun from my mouth.

"They're kidnappers," Roy informed me in a rapid-fire voice, the urgency of the situation raising it a pitch above its usual tone. "They're trying to get me out of circulation so I can't become District Attorney. Every criminal in town, from gangsters all the way down to punks, is scared shitless of what I'm going to do to the underworld."

All of a sudden, one of the kidnappers got up enough nerve to make a move. Two shots fired out, one from across the room, one from under the bed. It was impossible for me to tell which was first.

My eyeballs were seared from the abrupt flash of the exploding gunpowder. For several seconds I was blinded. When I could see again, the scene had dramatically changed.

Blood seeped from under the bed like a miniature river, and Roy Parker was lying in it. He'd been hit. He wasn't moving.

In the middle of the bedroom, the other half of the target was clutching his leg and hopping around. For the first time I noticed he was howling with pain. He'd been wounded, too, but looked like he'd gotten off a lot less seriously than his opponent in the shoot-out.

"Come on," the bearded one hissed to his accomplices, "we've got to get out of here. Those shots must have woke up everybody for miles. The cops'll be here before we know it."

"What about Parker?" the one who had not been wounded said. "He looks like he's had it."

"Leave him here," the beard said. "He's dead-weight now. We're going to have our hands full just getting Jack out of here all right with his leg all shot up like that. Anyway, it doesn't look like the lieutenant'll be bothering us any more.

"But we're fingered," the guy with the bullet in his leg rasped between moans of pain.

"Jack's right," the guy in the middle said to tile beard. "The girl's seen everything. We've either got to take her with us or kill her on the spot."

"Tough talk, Grady," was the beard's succinct reply. "Which will it be?"

My heart lodged in my mouth and stayed there when I realized that my life was the stake in some brutal dare between psychopathic criminals. I could be rubbed out like a hapless insect trekking in a schoolboy's path.

Grady walked over toward me and pointed his pistol at my head. The sound of the hammer cocking was the loudest noise I'd ever heard.

There was a long and dreadful silence as I stared transfixed at the muzzle of the gun. It seemed like a shark that was coming to devour me.

What was worse, the man holding it kept giggling.

"Okay, Grady," the man with the beard broke the eerie spell, "stop showing your pistol off to the lady and let's go. Keep her and Jack in the middle so she can hold him up and can't run. We'll decide what to do with her after we get out of here."

It kept running through my mind, as they rousted me from the floor and made me support their wounded compatriot. However, they had railroaded me out of the house and dumped me in the back of their van before I openly admitted the truth to myself. In the process of being blindfolded and bound and gagged I could scarcely ignore it.

At the last possible moment, just before they put some tape across my mouth, I muttered the obvious: "I've been kidnapped."

"What'd she say?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," the bearded one said impatiently, "but I'm sure as hell not going to take this tape off to find out. I can already hear a siren. Tell Grady to give this heap the gas."

The next sound was the roar of an engine followed by the screech of rubber peeling beneath us. We were moving forward, and fast. I wondered if I had seen home and family for the last time.

CHAPTER TWO

The ride to their hideout seemed interminable. The last several miles of it were over bumpy unpaved roads and I thought my bowels and kidneys would burst.

When we got there, after a long discussion with their allies who were there to meet them, my abductors decided to lock me in a shed while they decided what to do. Since I was bound and gagged and blindfolded, it was like being thrown into a black hole.

I don't know how long I stayed there because my senses were no longer reliable, nor in some cases available. In addition to being blind, mute and immobile, I was afflicted with limbs that were numb and a fogged-in brain. I felt like a useless piece of protoplasm taking up space someplace.

On the other hand, had I been alert I would have undoubtedly bedeviled myself by imagining my captors plotting my ransom. This way I was as nerveless as an amoeba.

When the door to the shed finally opened, I was so deadened that I didn't even hear it. Any light, of course was cut off by my blindfold. I had no idea whether it was night or day.

It took somebody stroking me and cooing into my ear like I was a baby to finally attract my attention. "Oh, look, you've made a mess all over yourself," a woman's voice said as she surveyed the damage with her fingertips.

Reality jarred me with the truth of her observation. She was right the small enclosure was reeking with the stench of my own piss and shit. All of a sudden my nerve-endings tingled back to life, making my skin crawl under the slimy filth that coated my naked body.

"We've got to get you cleaned off," she said, tugging me from the shack. "Nobody'll pay a cent for you looking like this."

It was the first hint of ransom. My kidnapping had apparently been placed on a pay-as-you-go basis while I'd beep languishing in bondage.

It seemed so odd being held like this. I was just an ordinary middle-class suburban housewife. My husband was a successful insurance agent, but our house was still heavily mortgaged. About all Tom could come up with in the way of ransom was a group life insurance policy for my kidnappers. They'd have to die to collect.

My involvement with the controversial Lieutenant Parker had been strictly a fluke. He'd answered my church's women's club about the spread of crime to the suburbs. I'd gone to the luncheon with adultery the last thing on my mind.

However, never underestimate the power of a bulge in a man's pants on a woman's imagination. By the time Roy's talk to the ladies was through, my mind was engorged with a throbbing mental image of his unsheathed hard-on. When I got up from my seat, there would be a small puddle of dew from my leaking pussy.

I bolted toward him the minute he was finished speaking. Pushing the other women out of my way, I elbowed up next to him and boldly whispered in his ear, "Do you want to fuck me?"

He choked on the answer he was giving to somebody's question. Then he gave my thigh a discreet squeeze. An hour later we were back at my place and screwing.

Just before everything went haywire, and I was kidnapped.

Well, I was back to the present again. I noted its futility by damning myself for being such a jerk about sex. If I hadn't had hot pants looking for the orgasm-that-never-came, I'd have never gotten mixed up with somebody like Roy Parker.

How was I to know that he was a marked man? To me, he was another big cock that might make me come with a man at last.

Ah, sex. Damn you, sex, I vehemently thought. "Hey, you all right?" the woman who had liberated me from the shed asked concernedly. "You're shaking like a leaf."

She was right. I felt like a quivering ball of Jello. But, despite my chill, sweat was pouring from my naked body.

"Here, let me get you a blanket," she said, and then left the room to find one.

I could feel try rump resting against the prickliness of a cheap rug, my back against a wall. I guessed I was propped up in a corner of the main hideout.

"Here you go," she said on her return, placing a warm woolen blanket over my shaking shoulders.

Mentally, I profusely thanked her. I couldn't help wondering what she looked like. Young or old? Fat or thin? Attractive?

"I guess it wasn't easy," she said, "being out there all night with no clothes on, wallowing in your own pee and shit. Sometimes the boys just don't have any manners."

Gradually I stopped trembling within the security of the blanket. As I calmed down, I started to become aware of how dirty and scummy my body was. All of a sudden I loathed myself. Stark fear had vanished but it had given way to degradation.

"I think you need a bath," she read my mind.

She reached down and opened the blanket inspecting the filth of my nakedness with her caressing fingertips. Her touch was so gentle it made me tingle in the midst of so much sordidness.

"Oh, yes, you really do," she giggled. "You smell just like a sewer."

And then, miraculously, she was freeing my wrists and ankles. Then the tape from my mouth. "Sorry," she apologized, "this is gonna sting your lips like the devil, but there's no other way to do it." As I yowled my first sound in hours from the painful accuracy of her prediction, only my blindfold remained as a symbol of my bondage.

That, as my benign guard quickly explained, had to stay on. "You get a good look at us and we're fucked, let's face it," she matter-of-factly explained. Then she wistfully added: "No matter how pretty you are."

It was absurd, but I felt deeply flattered that she admired my body. A sort of a glow lifted me to my feet efficiently and securely when I should have been wobbling after so long in bondage.

"Very good," she clapped. "I was sure you'd fall on your ass on your first try at standing. I must say that your body really works for you."

With a new dose of approval making me tingle, I was easily led across the room, down a hall, and into something which I guessed was the bathroom. "Here, I'll help you into the tub," she confirmed my judgment.

Taking me by the shoulders, she gently brought me to the edge of the tub, making sure my leg rubbed against it so I'd know where I was. "Just step over to your left," she counseled. The successful maneuver found me with one foot in the tub and one, several inches away, on the floor.

"Myyyyy," she crooned, "you're hung."

That was what they always said to guys. But suddenly it occurred to me that she was talking about my cunt.

"Are your pussy lips always this big, or are they swollen?" she asked as she lightly fingered my labia.

I had no way of knowing. Her unexpected touch was so exciting that I temporarily lost all my sense of proportion. Turgid with sudden arousal, the petals of my twat seemed like velvet pillows.

As she continued to rub my cunt, she leaned over and turned on the water. Slowly I could feel it warmly ascending up my leg in the tub.

"Are you about ready for your bath?" she asked, still stroking.

"Mrnmmmmmm," I murmured, still not sure of my power to speak even though the gag was off.

"Then put your other foot over the side and step over," she said. "When your pussy hits the water it'll feel divine."

However, I didn't move. She was obviously surprised by my reluctance, and asked what was wrong.

"I want you to go in with me!" I blurted my first complete sentence since my kidnapping. "After all that's happened, your touch is the only thing that calms me down. I'd feel better if I could feel your body."

"Why not?" she replied after a thoughtful pause. "Everybody else is in town, why shouldn't little Emma have some fun?"

"Emma? Is that your name?"

"Emma, are you young or old?" I excitedly gargled. "Are you… you… attractive?"

"Find out for yourself," she said through a quick unzippering. In a moment she was slipping down in the tub with me, and saucily advising: "Let your fingers do the walking."

Blindly reaching out, I groped for her breasts. As our thighs rubbed together underwater, I found them.

They were small but hard. They seemed like the tits of a young woman. Excitedly, I found her nipples. They were sticking out like miniature hard-ons. When I tweaked them, she squealed with delight.

"I love your breasts," I verbalized the obvious.

"Then lean forward and suck them," she panted with excitement.

Ducking my head to my shoulder, I followed the path of my arms down to Emma's tits. Once there, I squeezed them together and sucked both nipples at once.

While this was happening, my keeper started to rub my body with soap. Even though she was writhing and squealing from my oral caresses, she was still efficient enough to cover me with lather. The effect was that the more I sucked her tits, the cleaner I felt.

The water had been turned off so that its level was up to about our waists. It seemed to give us a buoyancy to maneuver we would not have ordinarily had in such a constricted space. We began to take full advantage of it.

No longer satisfied with merely mouthing her tits, I literally crawled up Emma's body, sensing her full nakedness for the first time. She was all lithe sinew and curves, without an ounce of fat on her. I guessed she wasn't over eighteen.

Estimating the location of her mouth, I successfully penetrated with my tongue and began a deep soul kiss. Underwater, my knee shot up into her crotch and rubbed her cunt.

Embracing me, Emma continued to lather my body. I felt like a naked woman who had popped out of a real birthday cake.

Eventually the foam was so thick that my body slipped against Emma's. Gradually my knee fell out of her crotch, as my hips replaced it. Soon the points of our pelvises were scraping.

"Rub your pussy against mine," Emma broke our kiss to fervently plead. "I can't wait to feel those big lips against my cunt."

Even though in my sheltered life I had never made love to another woman, I knew exactly what to do. Some basic instinct had taken over.

"Oooooooh, that's it," Emma moaned as I squirmed my cunt into the lower crux of her spread thighs. "Your pussy is so hot it's going to make the water boil."

I could only reply with a murmur of delight. The humid feel of her hairy snatch, sticky even under water, had tied my tongue into knots.

"Now fuck me," Emma directed beneath me. "Move your hips like you were a guy fucking me – our cunts will do the rest."

My murmuring changing to grunting, I began obediently pumping my loins between her spread thighs. Almost from the beginning, sparks seemed to fly from the incredible friction of our chafing twats.

"Fuck me harder, harder!" Emma implored. "Make me come with your hot cunt!"

I was so horny that it didn't seem odd to me that I was ramming another woman with my pussy. I might as well have had a hard-on up her slit the way I was humping her.

Even though I was blindfolded, for the first time I got the male's point of view in lovemaking. No wonder it was so easy for a guy to come – on top he was the master of all he surveyed. There was no need for self-doubt when you were in charge.

Throughout my marriage and all my affairs, I was always the one on the bottom pleading to be fucked harder and harder. Now that I was on top for the first time, I reveled in being begged by the person pinned beneath me to do the obvious.

Faster and faster I churned my hips between her legs. My breath was coming in pants as I tore my stiff cunt into the tenderest parts of her gaping pussy like a nail. She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me toward her. Soon we were both covered with my soapy lather.

"God, I'm coming," she moaned. "My pussy's on fire. I could feel it. Or were those my own flames?"

"Are you coming, too?" she urgently asked. "Its so much better if we both come at once."

Automatically, I prepared to tell my usual orgasmic lie. However, when the single word "yes" popped from my mouth, I was astonished at its credibility.

Suddenly I dared to think the impossible. Could it actually be that another woman was about to make me come? Squashed against Emma's rubbery fuck-hole, my pussy felt more vibrant than it ever had in my life.

No man had ever brought me to this point. Even teetering with Roy Parker wasn't this close.

My cunt was ready to explode. Another woman was going to make me come!

Boom it happened, and I was soaring through space. "Yes, I'm coming," I honestly advised my love-partner. "I can feel it everywhere!"

Our rubbing pussies foamed in each other. A steady stream of air bubbles crackled to the surface of the bath water from the heated action below. Then the escaping effluence of our cunts formed a miniature oil slick.

Awash in water, suds, and our own creamy discharge, Emma and I grappled passionately in the tub for a new position. Coming once had just made each of us want more.

This time, Emma wound up on top. Slipping so that I fell like a tortoise on my back, I was easy prey to her when she straddled my head and pressed her gooey cunt over my mouth.

Her smooth, full thighs clasped my head in a tight embrace. Her pussy had opened so widely that it was spread over my entire face. Its sweetness was indescribable.

I was overcome by hunger. The natural thing was to start eating.

Her gaping slit was cavernous when I first inserted my stiff tongue into it. However, it immediately tightened upon the first sign of meat. Abruptly tightening like a vise, Emma's elastic twat started wringing my tongue like a washrag.

It was only after several seconds of cunt tasting that I realized my head had slipped under water. In order to breathe, I would have to slither to the surface between the rear of the tub and Emma's pressing loins. As I did so, hacking in her crotch for air, Emma fell away from me.

Sprawling awkwardly across my reclining body, her head fortunately came to rest against the cushion of my thighs rather than the hard porcelain. Automatically I spread my legs. When she got over her shock at falling, the first thing she would notice would be my cunt.


"Mmmmmmmmm," was her initial indication she had recovered her wits. "Your pussy is beautiful."

Immediately she was eating it. To make it even better, the delightful invitation of her own twat was spreading through the cheeks of her ass just inches before me. Even though I was blindfolded, I could smell it, and thus envision it.

Then, craning my neck, I was tasting it. The flavor of pussy was even better when the person you were sucking was devouring your own.

Giving and receiving pleasure became so intense, gradually I couldn't distinguish Emma's cunt from my own. When her twat spasmed and gushed in my mouth, the same thing was happening between my legs. At times I felt I was drinking my own pussy juice coming in my own mouth.

I'd been on a continuous orgasm ever since I'd finally broken through the climactic barrier. Once I'd started coming, I couldn't stop. It was divine torture.

Then, just as I decided nothing could surpass sixty-nining in the bathtub, something did. Somehow Emma managed to turn the water back on, causing me to notice for the first time that it was coming out of a rubber tube attached to the faucet. Taking that tube, she crammed it up my asshole without warning. Suddenly my bowels were bursting with hot water.

She was giving me an impromptu enema. The taut bloating of my colon went perfectly with the joy of sixty-nining. With stimulation in both holes, I felt I was orgasming in my ass and cunt separately but simultaneously.

Of course the growing pressure in my bowels couldn't be held for long. With inevitable abruptness, the walls of my lower intestine collapsed and my colon was forcibly emptied.

The rubber tube came spurting out first, followed by a flood of stinking water. The force of my crap-thickened discharge drove Emma's tongue from my pussy. I imagined her nude body was speckled brown with flying pieces of my splattering shit.

"Quick," she said, passing the still-flowing rubber hose to me, "now it's your turn to give me an enema."

The splashing in front of me told me that she was getting into position for the act, opening her ass for me.

"Where is it?" I asked nervously, a complete neophyte at this. "Where is your asshole?"

"Just feel in front of you," she directed. "You can't miss it."

She was right. It was gaping like a miniature tunnel between her severely spread buns. Kneeling in front of me, her open butt was right in my face.

Working expertly with the gushing hose, even though I couldn't see, I moved the nozzle down the cleft of her spread cheeks. When the tip of the hose suddenly surged forward about an inch. I knew I had penetrated her asshole.

"Work it in!" she cried. "Really work it in!"

It was easy enough to do. The slick tube, about half an inch in diameter, was just made to fit up her narrow shit-chute. There was nothing to stop me from reaching the core of her being with it.

Inch after inch of elongated rubber slithered up her throbbing rectum. It was like fucking ass with a snake. In the meantime, the rushing water was stretching her bowels by the pint.

Then the explosion came. The first warning was the tubing recoiling from her ass like an electrocuted serpent. After that, all hell broke loose.

Emma's shit came flying at me in loose chunks from her erupting asshole. I felt like the loser in a dirt-clod fight I was getting pelted so vigorously.

Writhing like we were trapped in a pit of molten lava, Emma and I fervently embraced each other. We wore both coming so hard, it seemed we were holding on to one another for dear life.

Finally, after things had slowed down a little and we were catching our breath, Emma spoke first. "Well, well," she said slyly, "it looks like we're going to have to start all over again on cleaning you up before the rest of them get back from town."

"Good," I whispered huskily. "I feel absolutely filthy."

"I know," Emma giggled. "That's why I got you dirty all over again."

Continued

 

Really intriguing can't wait to read more