"Lawfully wedded nymph" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hotey Don K.)

CHAPTER EIGHT

I leaned on the doorbell, and somewhere inside the magnificent hollow of the huge mansion, I heard the far off echo ringing. It was dark and I looked behind me, more than a little nervous. I had purchased a car, my first, a little foreign type, and it was sitting across from me, in the shadows of the ramp of the house. As yet I wasn't a good driver, but I was learning. I found out very early that you needed a car in California almost as much as you needed money. I looked at my watch and rang the bell again. I was late, I knew, and I guess that's why I was nervous. I got lost on my way up from L.A., even though I followed the road map. Santa Teresa seemed such an easy town to find. Perhaps I should have made a test run during the daylight hours. Then, at least, I would have known where I was going. From somewhere within the bowels of the massive estate I heard a shuffle of feet running across thick caipeting. I waited patiently at the door for the sound to come closer. It seemed to be coming from far off. Finally the door parted, and a bright light leaked out into the night. In the center of the light there was a man. T^ll, thin, balding, in a dark suit, white shirt and tie. He looked coldly out at me. "Yes?" he said.

I could see glimpses of the house behind him, and the inside seemed as magnificent as the outside had. There seemed to be a wide high hallway just beyond the door, and in the center there hung a glittering chandelier. I could see a spiraling marble staircase just beyond, twisting off into the shadows two stories above my head. "Can I help you, young lady?" the man asked again, touched with impatience. I moved my eyes from the splendor, finding it hard to imagine that people really lived in houses like this. Having that much money made my brain anxious because I simply could not grasp the differences in our lifestyles. For me this much wealth was part of a fantasy world. Millionaires and actors might live this way, but not real people. Not people like me. I trained my eyes on the man inside of the pool of light and gave him my best smile. I'm Sally Bryant. Are you Mr. Burroughs? Mr. Lawrence W. Burroughs?" "Certainly not, Miss." "1 flustered for a moment. "But this is his residence, isn't it?" He gave me a very long, suspicious look. "Yes, it is." "Well, I'm Sally Bryant. I'm here about the … film. You know … the film." He nodded gravely. "I thought perhaps you might be, Miss. Come with me and I will take you to Mr. Burroughs." He closed the door behind me and led me through the main hallway. I saw the chandelier clearly now, and it was suspended high above the floor, bolted to a white domed ceiling. The staircase was wide and 150 flowing, and I expected Loretta Young to come gliding down it at any moment. It was that kind of house. It reminded me of a hundred movie sets from -the forties. But Loretta Young didn't come down the spiral stairway, and we went up it instead. There was a thick burgundy colored rug under foot, and it absorbed the sound of our walking, and turned it into whispers. We reached the top landing, turned to the left, and continued down a long hallway. The same burgundy rug was underfoot, stretching from wall to wall,, and running out in front of us, down the long hallway, for what seemed a mile or two. There were paintings on the walls, originals, and I recognized some French Impressionists. Every once and a while there was a small sofa or a high-backed chair that reminded me of a throne pushed to either side of the hallway walls. It gave me the impression that I was in the lobby of an old-time movie house. We stopped at one door, and the tall dark man knocked gently. "Sir," he said. Behind the door someone said: "What is it, Perez?" "A Miss Sally Bryant to see you, sir." "Good. Good. Send her in. And thank you, Perez. I won't be needing you any further tonight." "Very good, sir." He nodded at the closed door. Then he turned back to me. "You may go in now, Miss. Mr. Burroughs will see you now." He nodded to me, then turned and walked back the endless hallway, leaving me standing alone in front of the high white door with the gold trimming. I didn't know what to do, so I knocked.

The same voice from inside said: "Come in, Miss Bryant The door is unlocked." The door handle was gold, covered with a fine, intricate pattern. It fit my hand smoothly, and I tightened my fingers around it. There was an ahnost inaudible clicking sound, and I pushed the door open. I entered what was probably the library. At least there were bookcases on all four walls, from floor to the high ceiling, and the shelves were stuffed with books. The room had a faintly musty smell, and was lighted by a few small-watt bulbs very high above us. Mr. Burroughs was sitting directly in front of me, in a wheel chair. That was something that was unexpected, but what shocked me even more was his age. He looked as if he was a hundred. He was old and wrinkled, bent over in the chair, and completely bald. But there was life in his gray eyes, and perhaps a wisdom that matched his many years. "Good evening, Miss Bryant," he said. His voice was remarkably strong, and seemed incongruous to the frailty of his body. "You are a very beautiful young woman." I flushed. "Thank you, Mr. Burroughs." I began to walk towards him, but he held up his hand. "Please stay there, Miss Bryant. I would rather admire you from this distance." I stopped in my tracks, feeling foolish and uncomfortable in the center of the room. "Would you mind answering a few questions before we get on with this, my dear?" he asked. "No, not at all." I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I tried folding them. That didn't work, and I finally let them hang at my sides. They felt very long and very heavy. 152 "What made you decide to answer my advertisement?" he asked. He was talking about his ad in an L.A. sex paper. I was reading the Personal Column one day, and the ad caught my eye. I read it and called the number feted. I was told to leave my name and telephone number. About a half hour later, I received a call from a Mr. Harrison Miller, Mr. Burroughs' attorney, although I didn't know that at the time. Mr. Miller questioned me about the ad, testing my sincerity, I guess, and then he made an appointment to see me in person. I met him the next day, we talked about sexual matters, and he had a photographer take some naked photos of me. He paid me one hundred dollars and said he'd be in touch with me. A week went by, and then Mr. Miller called me again. He asked me if I was still interested in the ad. I said I was, and he gave me the name of Mr. Lawrence W. Burroughs, gave me this address, told me how to get here and when to come. He said I would receive a check in the mail the morning after I had come here for one thousand dollars. And that was it. "The money, I guess," I answered. "The money." He shook his head, and I had the feeling it might fust roll from his shoulders if he moved it too rapidly. He made a tisking sound in the back of his throat. "Just the money, my dear?" he asked. "Surely that wasn't your only consideration." "Well, no. I guess it wasn't. I had . . . other reasons." "Such as, my dear?" he asked. He folded his hands in front of him, pressing his fingers against each other in a bridge. "What would make such an attractive, young girl like yourself want to do something like 153 this? Want to make you appear in an erotic-no, pornographic film?"§· A tremor of sexual excitement went through me. It was really going to happen, I thought to myself. It was really going to happenl I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe I found the idea exciting. You know . . . sexually exciting." "And did you?" I thought about it. "Yes. Yes, I did. Very exciting, in a perverse sexual way. Maybe I'm an exhibitionirt at heart. Maybe all people are. But there just seemed to be something . . . very erotic, very senusal in knowing that you are going to appear in a pornographic film." He seemed pleased with my answer. 'He rubbed the side of his jaw with a trembling hand. "Have you ever done anything like this before, Miss Bryant?" "No, not exactly like this," I explained. I told him frankly about the Geisha, and that too seemed, to please him. I left out the part about my being a prostitute, for I wasn't sure how he would react to that. Then, when I was finished, I added: "To me this was a new experience, something IVe never done before. I enjoy trying new things." "You would say then that you have a strong, healthy sexual appetite?" "I've never thought about it in that way, but I guess there's truth in what you say. I've always enjoyed sex very much." "Good, good!" he said. He hit the arm of his wheel chair for emphasis. "Then you are a woman after my own heart. I, too, was a sensualist. I spent my whole life, my whole fortune in amassing every conceivable 154 sexual experience. Look around you. At these books. The world's largest private erotic library. Every book a treasure." I looked around-me in amazement. Every book in the room: pornographic! It was hard to imagine. "In my lifetime, my dear, I have made love to, seduced more women than ten men could in one hundred lifetimes. I have made love to queens, my dear. Royalty! Actresses, heiresses, the wives of ^millionaires. Some of the most beautiful women in the world. Some names, that if I would tell you, you would be shocked. Shocked." He sighed deeply, moving his hands weakly around in front of him in a helpless gesture. "But," he said, sadly, tiredly, "no more. That part is over for me. Over for many many years. So now I make films, sexual films, and I watch others doing what I cannot. I find the most beautiful women in the world, women like yourself, and I couple them with men who are equipped with formidable sexual equipment. I film those coupling for myself, and I watch them, using their youthful passion to rekindle the final, dying ember of my own. Sexuality is a very solitary experience for me now. Very . . . lonely." He brushed aside his mood again, like any annoying fiy buzzing inside of his brain. "Enough," he said. "Let us get on with the reason for your visit. If you would be so kind as to push me, my dear." He indicated the wheel chair. I felt sorry for him, and I moved to help him. "Which way, Mr. Burroughs?" Through that door, back down the hallway, and to the right. It's the first door."

I followed his instructions, knocking on the door. It opened, and a young man in a blue demin shirt held it open for us. I pushed the wheel chair into the room. I saw immediately the room was decorated like a motion picture studio. There were rows of bright lights above us, snakes of cabled wires littering the floors, and huge, professional movie cameras set up in strategic places in the room. There was a bed in the center of a spotlight, very brightly illuminated. I suspected that was my stage. The man in the denim work shirt took Mr. Burroughs from me, and pushed the chair across the tangled floor to a position near the bed, but just outside of camera range. I wandered over to them and stood at his side. "Forgive me, Sally," the old man said. "I forgot to introduce you. Sally Bryant, this is Lance Kemmel-man. Lance is our cameraman." I said hello. "I don't know whether you are a motion picture fan, Sally, but Lance here is a very famous Hollywood cameraman. He has already received an Academy Award for … ." He named a very famous film that I had seen the previous year. It was a fantastic financial as well as artistic success. I remembered the film work vividly. I was impressed and I think it showed. I think I said something inane. Lance laughed, and the old man joined him. «sYou see, Sally," Mr. Burroughs said, "what you can do if you have money. There is almost nothing that you cannot buy." Lance laughed. "You should see some of the films 156 Mr. Burroughs has in his private vault. Films of world famous actors and actresses . . . performing for him for pay. Some of them Award winners." He named an unbelievably well-known husband and wife team. Mr. Burroughs waved his hand again. "Enough, enough. Look, Billy is here already." I turned, and standing there, stark naked was a slender, blondhaired boy. I say boy because I'm sure he could not have been older than fifteen or sixteen. He had a slender, almost effeminate build, with thin arms and legs, flat stomach and ribs pushing through his gauntly pulled flesh. His body was completely hairless, even his pubic region, but that wasn't what made my breath suck in so deeply. It was the sight of his cock. It was longer and thicker than any organ I have ever seen in my life. I guessed that it had to be at least ten inches long. I found out later that it was closer to eleven inches in length. I think my mouth must have dropped open, and I know that I felt an unmistakable throb in my cunt. My mouth went very dry, and I couldn't help staring at the fantastic organ. It looked like the end of a baseball bat. Billy saw me staring, and he touched himself with his shallow hand. He caressed his mighty weapon, sliding his hand protectively, proudly up and down the endless pink shaft. He said: "Hello." I answered him, I think, suddenly very frightened and envious. I ached to touch that colossal hardness, to see if it were real, and I hated his hand for the ease with which he fondled it. But my cunt was terrified. There was no way, no possible way that 157 I could get that log inside of me without ripping me in two. "Hello," I finally answered. "My God." Burroughs laughed, without any envy, and a sort of strange pride. I think he almost identified with Billy. 'It is impressive, isn't it?" he said. "And more so because of his tender age. Billy's not yet sixteen, are you, lad?" Til be sixteen on November 9th," she said. Burroughs shook his head. "Can you imagine, Sally, what Billy will be like when he has fully matured? Can you imagine that?" I could hardly imagine it. I could hardly believe what I saw right in front of me. I was overwhelmed. "Why don't you go over and touch it, Sally?" Burroughs suggested. "Go ahead." I moved as if I were in a dream. The heat of the spotlight burned against my flesh like some miniature sun, and I could feel perspiration collecting already between my breasts. I walked forward, with my back to the two men watching me, and I reached out and touched Billy. "My . . . God," I muttered. I could barely grasp it. My fingers couldn't go around the shaft it was so thick. I slid my hand slowly tip and down, deep, deep strokes until I touched his hairless belly, then stroking back up again until I squeezed the thick spongy head between my fingers. It felt cool and hard, like a column of ivory. "It's . , . fantastic." "Enough, enough," Burroughs shouted. "Let us get on with the filming." I let go of Billy and turned around. I was trembling with excitement and terror. I shaded my eyes and looked into the glare of the lights, at the two men 158 standing in the shadows. I was waiting for instructions. "How do you want to do it?" Lance asked the old man. "Do you want to do some secondary shots first? Build the story line?" "No, let's get down to the action sequences first," the man in the wheel chair said. "Use a handheld camera, Lance, and get in there close with them. I want some clear, vivid detail. I want it to seem like the camera is a part of the experience." Lance nodded, and he went off In the shadows, after his camera and equipment. I stepped towards the old man, the hand still shading my eyes. "What should I do?" I asked. Even to me it sounded like a foolish question. "My dear, the first thing you should do is remove your clothing. And then go and make love to Billy. Make love to him, don't act. Enjoy it. Enjoy as if you were alone with him. Forget that we are here. Just make love to that wonderful cock of his, Sally. Do what comes natural." I turned and stared at Billy. He was caressing his cock again, as if he were preoccupied with it. He looked up at me and smiled vacantly. "Don't worry, Sally." Lance said, stepping into the spotlight. "If you get stuck, I'll tell you what to do. Just relax . . . and enjoy it." I laughed nervously and began to undress. Lance watched me appreciatively, whistling at my nakedness. Billy hardly took notice. He was more interested in his cock. I imagine it was difficult for him to consider anyone but himself as a love object. He was a man who was literally in love with his own cock. "Okay," Lance instructed, "why don't you get up 159 on the bed, Billy." He looked through the eye of the camera, then tested the brightness with the light meter. Billy lay back on the bed, and his cock stood straight up in the air like a tent pole. From underneath, with his thighs open and his balls hanging between his legs, his cock seemed even more magnificent. Lance came over to me and took me by the arm, pushing me towards the bed. "Are you ready to fuck yet, Sally? Is your cunt open enough, wet enough to take a.cock comfortably?" He checked the light again, from another angle. I blushed; it was stupid, but I did. "No, not yet. I'm still . . . dry." "Alright then," he said, making an adjustment on the camera lens, "why don't we begin with a little sucking. Sally, get on Billy's belly, head facing his cock, and start sucking him. Use a lot of tongue, and make sure your hair doesn't fall in front of what you're doing." Numbly I climbed onto the bed. The spot glared down on me like the eye of God, and I began to sweat. My body was coated with a thin, oily film of perspiration, even before anything had happened. I climbed on top of Billy's prostrate body, leaning across his stomach, with my legs behind me, off to the side. I placed both my hands around the base of Billy's cock. It felt huge between my fingers. "All right!" Lance said. He got down on one knee, and he aimed the camera at us. "Get ready! All set Mr. Burroughs!" Off from the distance, I heard: "Roll it, Lance!" 160 The camera began to whirl, and I froze for a moment, holding onto Billy's cock with both hands. "Okay, Sally," Lance said, "start sucking." Still numb, with my mouth dry, I leaned forward and began to lick Billy's cockhead. The flesh tasted clean and hard, like marble. He didn't stir or respond, but simply lay there, as if I were paying him the ultimate homage. "That's it … That's it, Sally," Lance said, zooming in closer. "Open your legs a little . . . Wider . . . We want to see your pussy as well." I flattened my tongue against the swollen knob of the cock, licking up and down and over, dripping my saliva against him until it dripped down the hard pink pole, striping it like a candy cane. I wiggled the tip of my tongue inside of the narrow slitted opening, and for the first time, Billy reacted. He sighed softly, with pleasure. I dug my tongue in, as though I were trying to stuff it down the tight urethra opening. I chewed into the spongelike crown with my front teeth, biting him gently, the way a dog chews on a soup bone. Billy sighed again. "You do that real good, Sally," be moaned. "I like the way you suck it." I pursed my lips, and closed them over the top-half of the cockhead so that only one inch at the most was in my mouth. My lips were stretched widely apart to even get that little of him into me. I rolled my tongue around the crown of the head, bathing him with saliva. He began to rock gently under me. "Why don't you try sucking a little, Sally," Lance suggested. He moved to the side, camera whirring, to get a different angle. Try and sink your mouth down him."

With the ice broken, and the pleasant warmth of the lights awakening my sleeping passion, I was glad to respond. I stretched my mouth wide, as wide as I could, and I could feel the flesh straining at the corners of my lips. My jaw cracked as I dropped it. And, as if I were trying to swallow a whole ear of corn, I felt Billy's cock move up into my open mouth. "Good . . . Good!" Lance said. "Very good." Billy's cock was enormous in my mouth, like the end of an Italian bread. My tongue was flattened under the throbbing shaft, and he touched all points inside my mouth without any of my effort. I could feel him sinking up into me, my teeth scraping along the tender shaft, until the head of his cock was pushed back against the opening of my throat, and he could go no further. "Beautiful . . . Beautiful!" Lance moved again. Excited now by the hugeness of the instrument in my mouth, I began to suck hard on Billy's cock, I allowed my saliva to flow wetly down all around it, packing it in a moist wet sleeve. I squished my tongue around, sliding it from left to right, over the throbbing bulge of the cock shaft. I began to rock up and down on it, sliding it up and down in my mouth. I could see my lips, clinging to the sides of the shaft, pull up and down as I slid the cock in and out of my mouth. "Good, Sally . . . Good!" Lance stood up and leaned down over us. "Do it as if you're enjoying it." I was, I was! I was enjoying it. The size of it, the bluntness of it, the columnar hardness of it was enough to make rny cunt quiver. I was aroused, passionately aroused from just sucking on it. I wondered how I would react when he put it in my cunt.

I bobbed my lips up and down the portion of Billy's cock that I had in my mouth. The rest of him, about three quarters of his length, remained outside of my straining mouth, with no way I could possibly get him in. I squeezedt both hands into the tree-like base of the shaft, jerking them up suddenly. I slid the clasped hands up until I was touching my own pursed lips. Then I jerked the hands down again, and I felt the cool fleeting hardness of Billy's cock sliding through my fingers. "Good . . . goodr Lance encouraged. "Just hold it like that. Don't stop what you're doing. I'm just going to reload. Don't stopP I had no intention of stopping. I could feel Billy's mighty cock throbbing in my fingers, deep inside of my mouth. Finally he was beginning to react with serious pleasure, lifting his hips, pressing upward with his crotch, aiding my mouth and hands. He moaned: "Nice . . . nice move . . . nice." I pulled my tongue free of the heavy press of his cock, and I snaked it over the head of the plunging shaft. As I moved my head up and down, sinking the erection in and out of my mouth, I swirled my tongue over the swollen, sensitive cockhead. I pulled my hands furiously up and down the other part of the cock, the part as yet untasted, gripping him tightly as I jerked and sucked him off simultaneously. Saliva dribbled from my fluttering lips, oozed down bis cock, and coated the shaft for my sliding hands. I stroked him harder, faster, until my hands were a blur, and I was banging my doubled over fists hard against my own plummeting mouth. My lips cut and ripped open, and I could taste my own

blood in my mouth, mixing with the saliva and the salty, warm taste of Billy's cock flesh. "Good . . . Good," said Lance. The camera was reloaded, and it whirred in my ears. "Now you, Billy . . . Touch Sally's cunt . . . Reach down between her legs and finger her and play with her clit." I felt Billy's hands on me, and I almost moaned. I felt him opening the lips, fingering the clit with his twirling fingers, and then he plunged deep into me, opening the passageway between the lips. "God …" he cried. He turned his fingers around, twisting them inside of me, stretching my hole wide. It was as if he were readying me for the entrance of his cock. "She's all wet, Lance. Sopping. She's just oozing pussy juice all over my hands." He dug his fingers into me, and I ground my cunt back against the flitting pleasure. I tightened my mouth around his cock, jerking my two hands up and down the broad tube of swollen flesh. I began to screw my lips around, twisting my head, letting the column of his cock slide around inside of my mouth. I moved my mouth from side to side, rolling my tongue, darting it against him, pressing him hard up into my straining lips. "I'm going to move around to your side, Billy," Lance said. I heard him move away, then to the side, and finally he was behind me. I heard the whir of the camera rolling over my twisting body. The bed moved, as if someone had just crawled onto the mattress. The sound of the camera came closer. "Sally," Lance said, "without stopping what you're doing, slide around on top of Billy's body. Put your 164 cunt in his face. I want to get some shots of him eating you." I did as I was instructed, sliding my sweaty body over Billy's cool hardness. I felt him lift me, parting my thighs around his head, and I felt his mouth press against the lips of my cunt. I moaned at the contact, but the sound was muffled against the gag of Billy's cock shaft. I pressed my cunt back into his face, and I felt his tongue sinking up inside of me. After a moment the tongue withdrew, and Billy darted it against my throbbing clitoris. I almost screamed. "Beautiful shot!" Lance announced. "Beautiful, Billy. Good tongue work." I could feel the heat of the spot burning hotly against my oozing flesh, making me slippery with perspiration. Sweat just poured from me, and I rubbed my body up and down against Billy, as if we were two moving parts of the same machine. "Let me get in closer, Billy," Lance said. I could almost feel the vibrations of the camera. "I want a tight close up. That's it … Now more tongue . . . stick it out all the way . . . That's itl Brush it up and down against her clitty . . . Now jab it in!" I felt the hot wedge of Billy's tongue sink up inside of my cunt. I squeezed down with my vaginal muscles, attemping to trap the flitting tongue deep inside my box. I could feel the slick walls of the oozing passageway closing around him. "Now pull it out, Billy," Lance instructed. "Hold those lips open . . . Wider . . . widerr I could feel Billy pulling the lips of my cunt open. There was a pinching, burning sensation in my vagina as the cool air tickled against my exposed underside. 165 The sensation was erotic, and I sunk my month down hard again, trying to press more and more of Billy's cock between my lips and into my mouth. "Good . . . Good!" Lance said. I felt him lean in closer to me. "I want a real tight closeup of that creaming pussy. I want to see the lips and that wet hole." The camera whirred, clicking away at my cunt "Sally, Sally . . . now I want you to tighten and relax your cunt hole . . . Do it easy, slowly … That's it, make that pink ring of muscles look like a winking eye . . ." I could hardly control my cunt, and the muscles were gripping open and closed on their own. Spasms of pleasure made my cunt quiver, and I could feel a thick, gooey discharge sliding down the canal of my vagina, seeping out of the clutching hole. "Now I'm going to do something wild," Lance warned me. "I'm going to bring the camera right up to your cunt. Right against the lips … as if I was fucking you with the lens. The camera is a cock, and it's going up into you." I felt the lens touch me, and I nearly bit down into the shaft of Billy's cock. The camera felt so hard, so cold, like a cock, and I pressed my cunt tightly against it, humping it, trying to fuck myself with it "Good . . . good!" Lance cried. "Great, Sally . . . Great shot!" I felt the camera sink up into me. "Oh . . . God!" I moaned. I pulled my mouth from Billy's cock, trying to control my lips enough to make them bend around words. The camera was still between the lips of my cunt, probing into me. "I want to … fuck. Please, fuck me. Billy. Anybody . . . fuck Billy let go of my cunt, and I felt the camera withdraw. I jerked his cock savagely up and down, using both hands. My arms began to ache. "Should I, Lance?" Billy asked. "Is it all right if I fuck her?" "Okay, yeah-good. We can use that now. But fuck her from the rear first. . . Let me get some more film." I didn't care if he fucked me sideways, as long as he fucked me. Billy pulled out from under me, leaving me flat on the mattress, my tits crushed under me, and my cunt aching for a cock. "Pull this up," Bill instructed. He jabbed his finger into my cunt, lifting me. "Get up on your hands and knees. I'm going to fuck you like a bitch in heat" I was like a pawn, willing to do almost anything just to feel the hardness of Billy's cock inside of me. I rose up, on my hands and knees. My arms were straining to support me, and I was swaying back and forth in my passion. Billy's hand was still in my cunt, pumping his fingers in and out of me. "Fuck me . . . pleaser 1 moaned. Crocked back against Billy's fingers. "Please . . . fuck me!" I sensed Lance standing in front of me once again. I heard the camera whirl to life. "That's good, Sally . . . good position. Now open your eyes, Sally. Look at the camera. Give me a very sexy, sensual look . . . Show the camera how juicy, how aroused you are. Melt the lens." I opened my eyes, half blinded by the glare of the spotlight high above the stage. I tried to focus my pleasure blinded vision, and after a moment I managed to succeed. Lance was standing far front of me, perhaps three feet away, with the camra mounted

on his shoulder. He was operating the machine with one hand, but with the other, he was caressing his cock. It was pulled from his pants, and he was jerking it up and down, obviously very aroused. "That's it!" he said, working the camera and working himself. "Give me a hard . , . sexy look . . . Moan at the camera . . . Tell it you want it to fuck you. Say the words." "Fuck me," I moaned. Billy's hand worked in and out of my cunt. I pleaded, in pain from so much pleasure. "Somebody . . . please fuck me!" Lance said: ''Good . . good. Now Billy, move in behind her. Put your cock into Sally's pussy." I began to tremble from the mere thought that it was about to happen, and I began to squirm, on my hands and knees, like.a dog shaking water from its body. Billy's hand slid from my cunt, and I felt him climbing between my thighs, positioning himself against me. "Fuck me . . . fuck me," I moaned. The room was going in and out of my awareness, and I had sweat in my eyes. The lips of my cunt were shivering with anticipation. "Please . . . fuck me . . . fuck me . . . fuck me . . ." Lance jerked his cock off, and aimed the camera. "I'm going to come in close to her now Billy. . . I want to get a shot of you driving it into her . , . from the top, looking down, over Sally's back. Sink it into her slowly, Billy. Slowly." I watched Lance moving in closer to me, the camera purring like a live animal. He released his hold on his cock, and used both hands to steady the camera. Billy came up behind me. I felt the blunt tip of 168 his cock against my cunt. I cried out, anticipating the pleasure, as if he had seared me with the burning end of a torch. "Okay," Billy said. "Here she goes . . ." Pain like nothing I've ever felt in my life ripped into my body. I tried to pull away, but Billy's hands held me firmly in place. Just the tip of his cock had slid up into my cunt, but it was enough to make me ache all over with the intensity of the pleasure. I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to. I was impaled, like a pig on a spit. Billy's cock throbbed inside of me and I screamed in the agony of my excitement. "Ohmigod . . . he's so bigl He's killing me … killing mer "Good, Billy, good," Lance said. He moved in closer, the camera above me, his cock inches away from me. "Very good . . . now push it in, Billy . . . Push that cock up into her cunt." Billy's hands tightened around my hips, and he pushed his groin forward. Despite my pain, I found myself pushing back against him, straining to get his monster-cock into my screaming, protesting cunt. I felt myself opening up, as though someone had impaled me with a tubular vise, and it was opening inside of me, prying me apart. The walls of my cunt clung to the side of Billy's cock as if I was oozing glue instead of the slimy discharge of my excitement I could feel the inner lips pushing in, moving up inside of me, as if there was no hole there, and Billy's cock was drilling one. I pushed back against it and screamed again. "God . . . GodI It hurts so … goodT "Jesus, she's tight," Billy moaned. "She's gonna crush my fuckin cock . . . She's making pulp outa it!" "Beauty shot!" Lance moaned, excited artistically as well as physically. "Beautiful fucking shot!" My cunt was one fire, the walls of the canal were screaming with the torturous friction of penetration. I felt every inch, every throb of Billy's cock, scraping against the bloodied tightness of my flesh, gouging out the path for his cock. I pushed back with everything I could, my whole weight and all my strength. I dilated the muscles of my cunt, hunching down hard, quickly, pouding myself against him. He responded with a similar enthusiasm driving his cock into me with vicious jerks of his hips. It was as if his cock were a nail, and he was trying to hammer it up into me. And succeeding. Inch by inch Billy's swollen cock moved up into the tight channel of my cunt. I pressed back, and he thrust forward. I groaned and cried, torn between the pain and the exquisite pleasure. Then, suddenly, there was nothing left to push, and Billy's cock was inside my cunt "Jesus . . . she took it!" Billy cried in amazement. "She took it … my whole fuckin cockT I could feel the cock inside of me, huge, swollen, reaching right up into the pit of my stomach. My body was wrapped tightly around it, and I could feel the tense swing of his hairless balls hanging between my wrenched .open thighs. The organ pulsed inside of me, like a second heart, sending vibrations of pleasure into every corner of my body and brain. "My . . . God." Lance exclaimed excitedly. "She really did . . . Look at that! Let me get a shot of 170 that." He leaned closer, pressing his body down against mine, leaning on my back. Without thinking, needing it desperately, I tilted my head up, and I swallowed Lance's cock into my mouth as he bent over me. My cunt was aching with the tremendous hardness of Billy's cock, and I burned with an uncontrollable fever. Lance jumped, startled, when he felt my lips on his organ. He began to pull back, but my mouth was not to be denied. I slithered forward, gobbling the hard, hot shaft, until it was pushing against the back of my throat, and my lips were scraping against the sapper of his open pants. His whole cock, from the thick root down to the throbbing head was in my mouth, pressing down against my wet, licking tongue. I began to suck him desperately. "What are you doing?" he said, trying to disengage. "What are you doing?" Billy, apparently excited by my sudden passion, leaned over me, placing his hands on my back, to see what I was doing. His cock slithered an inch or two deeper into me, and I crushed feebly back against it with my stretched cuntal muscles. "Look at that . . ." There was admiration in his voice. "This bitch can't get enough cock." I rocked my hips back against Billy, feeling the deadly swing of his balls between my thighs. My eyes were closed, and I was sucking as hard as I could, trying to swallow the entire length of Lance's cock right down my throat His balls were pressed against my slimy, saliva smeared chin, and they were swinging against me, matching the tempo of the other pair at the other end of my cock. "I can't . . . concentrate!" Lance said desperately. He was longer struggling to pull away from me,

and was, in fact, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth, sliding it in and out as if he were fucking me. I heard the camera whirring above me, but God knows where it was pointed. "I can't film this way, Sally! … I can't . . ." Off to my left, like a sudden intrusion, I heard another voice. I'd forgotten we had an audience. Burroughs was talking very loudly, in a trembling, excited tone. "Let her. Let her, Lance!" he said. "Film it. Film it! Aim the camera down . . . Get a shot of Sally sucking your cock!" Whether he was doing as instructed or not, didn't matter to me. All I knew was that Lance was responding to my needs. He was driving his throbbing cock viciously in and out of my mouth, pulling it back until the head was pressed against my teeth, then driving it in hard, the full length, until his balls smacked dully into my face, and the head of his cock was making me gag. I sucked furiously, licking him, drawing him up into my mouth, bathing him with saliva, screwing my mouth down into his heaving belly until my lips were rubbed raw by the grate of his open zipper. Then Billy behind me began to move. He began to fuck me with his tree-like cock. He slid back, and the sensation was so intense I bit down into the shaft of Lance's cock as I tried to bear the pleasure. Lance groaned, but grew very excited, and pumped even harder and faster in and out of me. Billy held me in place with his hands, although my mouth was securely fixed to the end of Lance's cock, and he withdrew the full length of his cock except for his cockhead. That he let remain inside of me.

I tensed myself for the inward thrust that I loiew would come. Billy waited, teasing me with the suspense, then, when I thought it would never happen, I felt his hands tighten on my thighs. He drove down, deep, deep, deep into my cunt The sensation of pleasure rushed from the tip of his cock and pushed up inside of me. I felt it race through my body like a series of waves, one washing against the other, growing larger and larger, until I felt the sensation in my mouth. It washed against the throbbing hardness of Lance's cock as he drove it in and out of me. I sucked Lance, and pushed back against Billy. He began to draw back again, and I felt the walls of my cunt collapsing around his retreating hardness. Then he shoved himself in again, and the walls ripped open, as if an explosion had cleared a path for his driving cock. I felt the sensation down the length of my body, right up through the roots of my hair. It prickled my scalp as though Billy were fucking me with an electric prod and not his cock. I don't know who came first. I think it -was Lance. I think it was a chain-reaction: Lance came in my mouth, the sensation of his orgasm traveled down the length of my body, tripping off my own pleasure, and then it gushed around the thick plug of Billy's cock, seeping down into the shaft until it ignited the fires of Billy's passion, and he began to come in my cunt. Three people, all coming at the same time. I felt my body filling up from both ends. I swallowed the sperm in my mouth, drinking it down desperately to keep from drowning. My cunt performed similarly, sucking out the pumping flood of semen from the end of Billy's throbbing cock. Sperm flowed thickly into me, gushing hotly, and both ends

of my body, both drinking, greedy mouths sucked up the swirling goo as quickly as it could be pumped into me. I felt the hot, incandescent flow draining inside of me, as if there was a hole somewhere inside of me, an emptiness, and the sperm was draining into it. The emptiness begari to ache, the emptiness that was there, has always been there, and may forever be there. It was the emptiness, the dissatisfaction, that I felt with Peter, with French, with Zach, with Ralph, with Patti, at the Gdisha-the emptiness that I felt right at this moment of colossal orgasm. Like a hole- inside of me, an empty bottomless pit, and the sperm of two cocks poured into it, trying to fin it with heat and passion and pleasure. Sperm from two ends of me, from two cocks inside of me, and that deep drinking emptiness was still left hungry and unsatiated. I tried to cry out, but my mouth was flooded with sperm and I was muzzled by the hardness of Lance's cock. I wanted to scream out, to cry out to the world for help, but all I could feel was the undulating throb of Billy's cock in my cunt, bleeding sperm into an open sore that would never heal Far away, like a whisper ^to my brain, a voice filtered down through the pastel layers of my orgasm. It was Mr. Burroughs, the old, old man, the cripple, the millionaire who had to buy his passion through the bodies of other people. He was shouting, gleefully, as if he too had somehow experienced an orgasm. "Good, good!" he cried. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Sally … I knew you wouldn't disap-appoint me, Sallyl . . . Good . . . Good! . . . GoodT GoodT

CHAPTER NINE Things began to go a little downhill for me after that night with Billy and Lance, although not immediately. I did enjoy the attention of the two men, I must honestly admit, and I did enjoy the one thousand dollar payment I received for making the film. And so, it wasn't too much of a surprise to me when I received a second call from Mr. Burroughs, coming directly from him. He was very pleased with my performance, and he asked me frankly whether I would consider making a second film for him. I said no, feeling that I had explored the possibilities of that kind of experience as fully as I was able. I saw no sense in repeating the same thing over if it didn't open to me any other possible avenues of experimentation. That would be doing it solely for the money, and that simply was no motivation enough for me. I was surprised, however, when he did offer me a new possibility of experience. "I throw parties," he said, "for some of my very special friends and clients, and I am in constant need of new . . . entertainment for these parties." "What kind of parties?" I asked. He thought for a moment. "Intimate parties," he answered cryptically. "Would you care to be a part of this entertainment, my dear?"

He was talking about my performing in a live sex show, in front of an audience of men and women. I considered this for a long while, and honestly, I found myself fascinated by the prospect of doing something as … perverted, as daring as performing sexually for an audience. Unlike the films, I could gauge the immediate response of those people watching me. I could hear how they reacted to me. I could see how they were responding to my getting fucked for their voyeuristic pleasure. And yet, there seemed to be even one more positive incentive. Doing something like this is as far from being a suburban housewife as I could possibly imagine. It was at the other end of human experiences, at the other end of life's spectrum. Another new experience, another horizon, something new to explore, to see if it could possibly satisfy the restless urge, the nagging dissatisfaction, the empty hole in my life. What could I say to him? The only answer I could have possibly given: of course I would do it. J went to his house again, at night, and I was led to another room in the mansion. There I met another woman and three other men. Together, we were the performers. We smoked some marijuana and drank some wine to break the ice and get us in the mood, and we were led out onto a stage. The curtain went up, and out before us was an audience of men and women, all as naked as we were. Our stage performance began, and I got fucked in every possible position by every possible man, sometimes taking on two or the three at once. I even was fucked up the ass by the woman. She strapped on a dildo, and while she was fucking me in the ass, she was 176 being fucked in the ass by one of the three men. I must have come twenty or thirty times during the course of the night, and my body was completely soaked with sperm, sweat and the slimy discharge of cuntal juices. The night ended as an orgy-my first real orgy- when the men and women of the audience climbed onto the stage and joined in with us. There was fucking and sucking going on all over the place, everywhere you looked. It was the wildest night of my life. I retired from prostitution after that night. My cunt, inside the canal, was literally raw from the friction of all that fucking. I bled for a week afterwards, and couldn't fuck for another month without sharp, burning pain. Still, I didn't mind, and it didn't cost me anything. I was paid twenty-five hundred dollars for that night, and was given another five hundred dollar bonus from Mr. Burroughs for film rights to the performance and orgy. All the while we were "working," he had a full crew of cameramen, Lance included, capturing the whole night on film. J wasn't sorry, really when I left this world of open sexuality. I had tried it, experienced it, but like everything else, it paled under a close examination. The edge, the sharp edge of intense pleasure simply was no longer there. I had done everything you could /possibly do sexually. There was no further challenge in it. It got to the point where-and I know this is going to sound strange-but it really did get to the point where sex became . . . boring. So, as has been my practice in the past, I moved on. My body needed a rest, I had money, security,

a good place to live; now all I needed was a little time. Time to think, -time to sort out a new direction, to see where my life would lead me this time. I had reached the bottom, in a sense, I realized. I'd sort of sunk to a low point … to the point at which I had been willing to perform sexually for an audience, for pay. There was no way to go now other than up. Happiness simply wasn't there. I know: I tried it all. So it was strange that at this point in my life I should have met someone like Rick Tanner. Fated, I guess would be a better word. Destined. I met Rick through my job. After the month or so was over after the orgy at Burrough's house, I decided to try working again. I still had my old skills as a secretary, and I got a job working for a law firm, much like my first job after I had graduated from college. The money wasn't bad, certainly not as much as I had been making, but it was a nice change of pace. The men were interested in other things than fucking you. They treated you like a person and not like a cunt. Even the women were fascinatingly unique. They were so petty, so bitchy, with such little, small human problems, like what to cook for dinner or where to go on vacation. It was like a breath of fresh air, and I savored the freshness of this old, new world. Rick didn't work for my company. He was an insurance agent, working for one of the largest insurance companies in the United States. My boss was a policy holder, and Rick came to the office to make some kind of adjustment in the policy. We got to talking, and he asked me out. I felt flattered. It was my first date in ten or twelve years.

I went out with Rick that night. It was nothing special. He picked me up at my apartment, we went out to dinner, then to a local movie, and had coffee later. We didn't make love that first date, although I did let him loss me goodnight. We didn't make love until after the fourth or fifth date, and then when we did, for some strange reason, I began to cry, as if I were a virgin again. Rick comforted me in his arms, stroking my hair. He told me he loved me. He told me he caredJror me very much. He said he respected me for making love to him, for it showed him how warm, how human I was; how much I cared for him. We went out several times after that, although I never allowed him to make love to me. We kissed heavily, petted, and once he fingered me to orgasm, but never full, naked sexual intercourse. Until tonight Rick was coming over tonight, and-he said he had something very special to tell me. I could guess what it was. The doorbell rang, and I made some last minute touches in the mirror. "Just a moment," I shouted. I rushed to the door. Rick was standing there, smiling. He had one hand hidden behind his back. "Here, Sally," he said. He brought his hand out from behind his back. There was a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. "For you." I grabbed the roses from his hand and crushed them to my breast. It had been so long since anyone had bothered to bring me flowers. "They're . . . beautiful," I said softly, strangely close to tears. I hugged the flowers and sniffed at their perfume. "They're beautiful, Rick. Beautiful." "They're for a beautiful woman," he said simply. 179 I blushed and my head spun. I closed the door, and together, with his arm through mine, Rick and I walked into the living room. Rick sat on the sofa. Til put these in water," I said. Til be back in a second. Why don't you fix yourself a drink." Til fix you one too," he said. "I want to celebrate tonight, Sally." I stared at him curiously before I turned. My stomach fluttered and I felt light-headed and giddy. I had champagne in my blood, and it was going to my head. The smallest anticipatory twinge gripped my cunt, but I pushed the thought away from my awareness. If it's going to happen, I told myself, then let it happen naturally. I smiled at Rick. He was gloriously handsome. Tall, dark wavy hair, jet black eyes, and a quick easy smile. His tan was so dark he almost looked like a Latin, and that somhow excited me. I wondered if he had hot, passionate blood. He reminded me oЈ someone, but it bothered me that I couldn't place who it was. Maybe someone from my . . . other life. He was thirty-two, the same age as Peter, and he had his whole life before him. "Hey," he said, smiling at me. "You better put those in water instead of standing there and mooning over them. You're dripping them all over the floor." I flushed, then laughed. Tm sorry, I forgot for a moment. I was just . . . thinking." I turned, still smiling, and I got a vase from the kitchen. The cold water was filling the vase when I heard Rick's voice calling to me. I lowered the pressure, turning the faucet. "What would you like to drink, Sally?" he asked. 180 "Do we have time for a drink?" I asked, being perverse. "Won't the film be starting soon?" "We'll have time for this drink," he said. "Now, what would you like?" I shrugged and shut the water. "Anything, honey. Whatever you're having will be fine." I began to arrange the flowers in the vase. I cleared a spot on the coffee table for the flowers. They looked beautiful: they made the room look so bright and cheerful. I sat on the sofa next to Rick. He handed me my drink. "Here you go, Sally." "What are we celebrating?" I asked. Rick laughed excitedly. He was like a little boy with a secret, trying to contain it. His happiness kept bubbling up and overflowing. "All right," he said, "are you ready for this?" The excitement was contagious. I giggled: "Yesl What is it, now?" "I did it," he explained. "I did it. I finally went over the mark. Over the million dollar mark. I've sold over one million dollars in life insurance policies!" "Oh, Rick! That's marvelous!" I shouted. I threw my arms around his neck, spilling my drink, and I tossed him. "That's wonderful, honey. Simply wonderful." He nodded his head, excited himself. "I really did it, Sally. The million dollar mark. That exclusive club. And you want to hear the best part? Do you know what Mr. Kahn said to me? He told me I was the youngest agent to have ever done it in Westerns history. The youngest and in the shortest space of time!" "Oh, that's wonderful," I said again. I kissed his 181 cheek. "Oh, I'm so happy for you, Rick. I know what this will mean to you." He sipped his drink, then put it down impatiently. "It will mean everything for me. The big opportunity; the opening of the door. Ill be getting a substantial raise, but more important than that, Til have to be considered for Ryder's job when he retires in September. A Vice Presidency, Sally. Think of that!" I put my own drink down, placing it next to Rick's on the table. I kissed him softly on the lips, Tm proud of you, Rick," I whispered. I touched his sofV handsome face. T truly am." He stared at me, his eyes becoming misty. There was a quaver of emotion in his voice. "Are you, Sally?" he asked. "You're not just . . . saying that, are you?" I kissed him again, full on the lips, gently, tenderly. I moved my lips around in a slow, sensual circle, allowing the sweetness of the kiss to linger. Only our mouths touched, no other part of our bodies. It seemed appropriate somehow: it matched the intimacy, the solemnness of the moment. Rick broke off the kiss. Emotion had drained his face until it was pale. His hand was trembling as he reached for his drink. He said: "I need this." I stared at Rick and did not speak. Instead, I waited; I hoped. He put the glass down again. "I love you, Sally," he said. "Very, very much." Somehow the moment was awkward for me. I felt uncomfortable as I sipped nervously at my drink. "You told me that the other night, Rick Do you remember?"

He nodded gravely. "Yes, and I'm saying it again. Sally, I love you. I love you very much." I wanted to believe him; I ached to believe that it was so. Inside of me that old emptiness, the burning hole in my Me needed to be filled with that love. Sperm couldn't fill it, nor could passion. Maybe it needed love. "How can you say that, Rick?" I asked. "You hardly know me. Three weeks ago we were strangers." "And who knows what we'll be to each other in three more weeks." I stared mistily at him. "Don't say that, Rick. Not unless you mean it." He touched my hand. "I do, Sally, I do mean it. I want you to … be my wife." A shudder went through me. Images flashed through my mind, racing like a series- of motion picture frames being shown too rapidly. I saw all the men, from Adam right down to that final night at Burrough's mansion. I shuddered as if I had seen a nightmare, a horror movie. A door closed in my memory, shutting off the images. They were gone, forgotten, like all things of the past, as if they had never happened. "Are you . . . serious, Rick?" I asked. I shook with the need to make this last and final change. This final metamorphosis. "Don't play games with me." "Sally, I couldn't be more serious if I tried. I love you. I want to marry you." My head began to spin. Marriage? I asked myself. Is that it? Is that what I need to be finally . . . happy? Marriage? I tried to think. Maybe that's what has been miss-183 ing from my life-stability. Lasting relations, emotional commitments, trust. Marriage. But it was more than just marriage, I saw. It was the whole emotional commitment I would be making to the idea of marriage. To marriage as a life-style! Rick has a good job, one that will lead to promotions, advancement. That's something solid, stable, sound, secure. You, could build a life on that kind of foundation. A steady job, respectability, a husband who loves me, perhaps a family some day, and maybe, maybe a home of our own, in the country, away from the noise and the dirt and the pollution of the city. A future. A real future! Rick's eyes were large and dark and open, waiting for my answer. I touched his face and caressed him. He was so strong, so confident. I needed that. I tried the other way of life. I tried the freedom, the wandering, the self-indulgence. It didn't work. I didn't find what I need in it. It didn't make me happy. Perhaps it's time, I thought. Time for Sally Bryant to settle down . . . again. "Do you really want to marry me, Rick?" I asked, my voice trembling. He shook with emotion. There were tears in his eyes. "Yes …" he gasped. "Yes . . , yes . . . yes, I do!" I gripped his hand tightly. "Make love to me, Ricky," I said. "Please, Ricky, my love, my lover. . . make love to me!" We came together, like two magnets. Like vines on a tree, our arms entwined. I kissed him hard on the lips, and his tongue pushed into my mouth. I sucked it, tasting the sweetness of his breath. I gave him my

tongue, as a gift of my love, and he accepted it in his mouth. "Oh, my God … I love you, Sally," he moaned. Rick's fingers worked on my blouse, parting it. His hands fumbled with my bra, pushing it down. He fondled my naked breasts, pinching the nipples until they were stiff with fire. "Jesus, believe me … I love you, Sally!" I kissed his mouth hard, shutting off the flow of words. I placed my tongue between his lips, and he drew it back into his mouth. His hands worked feverishly on my breasts. Passion began to work between the lips of my cunt. It had been so long since I had last been made love to. Only once, with Rick, in the long weeks since the orgy. I needed a man. My body burned with desire. I reached down between us, and I touched Rick. He sighed with excitement and stabbed his tongue into my mouth. My fingers curled around the stiffness of his rod, brushing it up and down through the straining material of his pants. The heat of his erection burned into my palm, and I hardly minded that he wasn't as endowed as some of the men I've been with. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he loved me and I loved him. There! I've said it! I've admitted it to myself. I love you Rick Tanner! I opened his zipper and pulled out his cock. He was very hard and very, very hot. I caressed him expertly with my fingers, and he moaned. "My God . . . Sally!" he cried. "That feels so … wonderful!" I scooped out his balls and rolled them about in 185 my hands. They felt elusive: hard and soft, squishing under the pressure of my fingers. I could feel the hair curling between my fingers as I tried to smooth out the wrinkled fiesh. "My . . . vagina," I said, pressing my cunt against the loose hardness of his cock. "Touch me . . . there, Rick. Please!" His hand came tentatively down, and he placed it between my well-parted thighs. I pressed the swollen mound against his hand, and I sighed when I felt his fingers curling down and under. I hunched up and down against him, spreading the wetness of my hand, and I was afraid he would come. I let go of the stiff rod. "Touch me … under my skirt," I said. Rick I squeezed into his cock, jerking him off. He began to breathe very heavily, sucking in breath and expelling it hotly. His cock throbbed in my hands, and I was afraid he would come. I let go of the stiff rod. Touch me . . . under my skirt," I said. Rick trembled against me. 'Tut your hand on it" He fumbled with the side button on, my skirt, and finally I had to help him with it. The skirt parted, and I stepped out of it. Together we pushed my panties down my legs. I laid back on the sofa and parted my thighs. "Make love to me, Ricky?" I moaned. My eyes were closed and I was thinking, remembering, dreaming, 'Tut it in … your thing . . . put it in me. Make . . . love to mel" Rick came down between my thighs, trembling. He pushed his smallish cock against my cunt, but he could not get it in. He tried once or twice, thrusting 186 uselessly against my thigh. He moaned in frustration, as if he were in pain. I reached down between us and guided his cock into my body. He felt the warmth, the wetness, and he thrust himself forward, savagely. "Ohmygodr he cried "Sally . . My Godr I squeezed down around the shaft of his cock, and Rick began to come almost immediately. His cock simply opened up and he began to flow, pumping his sperm up into the wet hollow of my pussy. "Ricky!" I cried. "Rickyf I didn't mind that he was coming; really, I didn't I hunched up against him, crushing my cunt against his belly. I could feel his balls expanding and contracting between the wet slit of my oozing cunt. I really didn't mind. I was happy, I realized. Rick was coming in my cunt, and I was happy. It would last this time, I knew it. This happiness was real. I could feel it; I sensed it. It would last. It had to! The search, my long, unsatisfied search was finally over. I had found what I was looking for. I had been correct-it was there, just where I thought it would be, just behind the next hill, over the next horizon, in the very next experience. The grass was greener there … I knew it would be, I knew it, I knew it, I knew itl "Ricky," I moaned. The sperm from his deflating cock was oozing all over my dripping pussy. I knew I could tell him-about Peter, about my other life. He would understand, I knew he would. We could get married now. We could fly together to Mexico. I could divorce Peter. And then Ricky and I would get married. "Ricky, darling!"

He moaned against my breast. "What . . . Sally?" I kissed his sweet mouth. "Ask me again, darling," I said. "Ask me again," He sobbed and pushed his lifeless cock against the spermy lips of my cunt. "Would you marry me, Sally?" His voice was shrill with hope. "Would you?" I wrapped my thighs around his hips, and I squeezed him with my arms. I said: "Yes, darling . Yes . . Yes . . Yesf

AND NOW BEELINE IS PROUD TO PRESENT . . , BOOK H WITH THIS RING, I THEE LUST by Poncho V. Ilia

BEELINE DOUBLE NOVEL LAWFULLY WEDDED NYMPH

WITH THIS RING, I THEE LUST

All characters and events depicted in this book are purely fictitious. All rights reserved

ISBN: 0-503-07272-9 Covers posed for by professional models Printed in the United States of America