"Marcy in heat" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cannon Jason)

CHAPTER THREE

Bruce didn't pull any punches with her or attempt in any way to deceive her. He told her that all he was interested in was sex, in any way, shape or form that he could get it.

Because of the manner in which he told her, it appeared that he expected some kind of argument from her, or at least a question as to why. He got none. She wanted the same thing from him that he thought he was getting exclusively from her.

They spent every minute they could together, and between their wild orgiastic sessions, they managed some conversation. Bruce told her his views on everything from politics to religion to sex. The latter two he combined.

"My religion is me… myself," he explained, "and my life. I want to get everything out of it. I want to taste and experience everything. I might even form my own church some day… complete with priests and nuns. Only my priests and nuns will wear red and they'll have black collars and they'll fuck each other a lot. It would be like a commune. We'd let everyone in who wanted in but they would all have to work. And the rich ones would give my church all their money and the church would take care of them so they wouldn't have to worry about anything but having a ball and balling."

"Taste and experience everything…" Marcy said aloud.

"That's right," he said, smiling and rolling over close to her nude body in the bed. "But right now I want to taste a little of this."

"What are you going to do?" Marcy said as he spread her legs.

"Something I've been meaning to do all week and just haven't gotten around to yet. I'm going to eat your cunt."

"That's nice," Marcy said, dreamily stroking his blond head as it moved between her thighs.

His warmly wet mouth pressed into the flesh of her smooth belly. The sudden heated contact of his lips sent a chill racing up her spine and her body arched as the eagerly quivering tongue began to probe lower. He lifted her limp, unresisting legs up and draped them back across his shoulders. Instinctively, she clasped her ankles around his neck, imprisoning his ears between the naked flesh of her smooth inner thighs as he spread the silken hair of her cunt outward with his thumbs. Then he flicked his tongue lizard-like into the moist, flowering slit of her throbbing little vaginal hole.

She moaned deliriously, unaware now of anything except the delicious touch of the hotly flicking tongue. She shivered wantonly from the sudden electrifying contact of his wetly quivering flesh against the tiny bud of her clitoris. Her hips began moving as though with a life of their own, in a lewd motion of copulation… slowly at first… then faster and faster… until they were frantically gyrating. Eagerly grasping his head, she tried to pull his hotly probing tongue up inside her cunt, as her buttocks pound excitedly down against the bed, and low animal moans of wanton delight escaped from her heaving chest. Oh God! She wanted his tongue shoved deep up into her cunt. She had to have it!

"Sweet, sweet pussy," Bruce groaned in rapture as he leered at the moistly glistening flesh of her cunt. With a slow, torturing, outward movement of his thumbs, he drew the pink little pussylips apart, exposing her slit.

"Take it, honey!" Marcy wailed. "Suck my pussy… suck it good!"

With an animal-like groan, Bruce dropped his head and buried the full length of his slippery tongue deep into the warm, throbbing walls of her pussy.

Then he levered her long, beautiful legs back and up, until her knees were crushed against her breasts and the dark mound of her cunt was high in the air. His tongue wallowed again in her pussy and then darted down and into the puckered ring of her asshole.

"Oh shit, that's good!" she cried. "Suck there, too… bite it, fuck it with your tongue!" She reached down between her widespread, thighs and pulled his head tighter against her as goosebumps quivered across her rippling belly and heaving breasts. Her buttocks jerked up and forward to meet and swallow the wetly thrusting tongue. Spasms of sexual sensations coursed through every nerve in her writhing body.

"God damn… oh, shit damn!" she screamed. "It's just like a cock in my ass and cunt! Fuck my holes!"

Her aroused body heaved spasmodically and began a slow, abandoned grinding movement upward against his tongue; that heatedly quivering tongue which sent wave after wonderful wave of ecstasy surging through her love-hungry loins.

Nothing existed now but the maddening tongue teasing hotly up into her ass and her own wanton desire which was rapidly building to a peak.

He sensed her need. With a low growl he withdrew his thick wet tongue, thrusting it once again deep into her wildly throbbing cunt. Soft pubic hairs grazed tantalizingly against his nose and cheeks as she ground her firm white buttocks in a slow hypnotic rhythm up and down against his face.

Her face contorted as she clenched her eyes shut and bared her teeth in the ecstatic throes of sexual release.

He sank his tongue deeper and deeper into her moistly throbbing pussy, bringing animal mewls of pleasure from deep within her lust-constricted throat.

While his tongue continued to ravage her greedily sucking vagina, he worked his middle finger up into the tiny puckered ring of her asshole.

She screamed as the unexpected attack sent a violent electric thrill racing uncontrollably throughout her body, and then, miraculously, she was there – the wave broke over her and left her screaming in exaltation.

"I'm there, oh Jesus God, I'm there, I'm there! I'm coming, Bruce! I'm coming like a fucking dam bursting!"

Her body convulsed beneath his mouth and her insanely quivering thighs fell apart as her head flailed passionately from side to side. She bucked and writhed like a dying wild animal.

Never before in her life had she felt like this! Wave after wave of exquisitely beautiful sensation continued to break over her, and there was a churning whirl of colors before her glazed eyes. And then it grew gray and dim and black and silent… and she collapsed in totally satisfied exhaustion.

"Damn, you're good," he said, crawling up beside her and licking the juice from her explosive come from his fingers and lips.

"I'll be the nun to your priest any time," she gurgled.

"We leave tomorrow," he said.

"I know," she replied. "I'll be sorry to see you go… and even sorrier to see this go." She reached down and fisted his semihard cock.

Bruce left the following morning, and Marcy drifted back into boredom. But one thing was accomplished. She had discovered that all the puritan ethic her parents had taught her couldn't compete with the need in her body for sex. And it didn't bother her. She figured if anything as good as sex was sinful, then she would just have to be sinful.

She still respected her mother's wishes enough not to let any of the several men in the town who tried to seduce her succeed in their attempts. It was a small town and she was sure anything she did would get back to her mother.

So she remained a frustrated bundle of sexual desire right up until the time she left for college. And the only thing that stopped her from just going off on her own and getting a job instead of going to school was the very thin doubt that perhaps her parents might be right in their views.

That thought was snapped and two things made her decide to sever all ties and leave school, during her first visit back home.

Her mother asked her to take some magazines over to Mrs. Morris, the Reverend's wife, who was ill and probably in bed. Her mother also told Marcy to do anything she could to help, since the Reverend was out of town for a few days and his wife was all alone.

Marcy didn't feel like doing housework for Kate Morris, since her first month at school had left her even more bored because of the lack of sex. She hadn't found time to get anything going, what with the hassle of registration, classes and indoctrination, and she had hoped to find some sex among other college students who were home on brief vacation. That, she thought, would be safe, since they too would be returning to school.

Marcy knocked on the Morris' front door. When there was no answer, she opened it and entered the front hall. She called, but still there was no answer.

Then she remembered what her mother had said, that Kate Morris was probably in bed.

As Marcy walked up the stairs she could hear faint voices coming from the direction of where she assumed Kate's bedroom to be. As she progressed down the hall toward the partially opened door, the voices stopped.

At the door she could hear giggling and groaning. The giggle was feminine, but the groan definitely came from a man. Her first thought was to leave when she saw the rumpled cover and the edge of the bed. But when she heard the twisting and turning of bodies on the bed and rapid breathing, her curiosity was peaked.

Reverend Morris must have came back from his trip, Marcy thought, and the first thing upon his return was to run for his wife's bedroom. Ministers weren't much different from real people.

The movement on the bed became heavier and the breathing got much louder. Suddenly Marcy identified the sexual rhythm of the sounds; by this time she knew it only too well.

Marcy couldn't resist moving directly into the crack in the door so she could watch. Because the shades were drawn and there was no light on, the room was very dim. Marcy could barely see the two figures lying on the bed. As they moved and her eyes became more accustomed to the dimness, she could see that they were nude.

Marcy could tell that the woman was Kate Morris by the long, straight auburn hair that draped over her shoulders and fell down her back in billowy waves. She still couldn't see the man's face.

She watched as they rubbed their bodies together. They kept moving every which way. First he would lie on top of her, and then she would roll over on top of him. Marcy could hear their mouths sucking and their tongues licking each other.

Then the man lay back, burying his head between the pillows so Marcy still couldn't recognize him. The thought that it could possibly be anyone but Reverend Morris never entered her mind.

Then Kate's fiery red head was moving downward. She was kissing him on his stomach. At the same time her hands moved up the insides of his legs until they found his balls. She rubbed the heavy sac gently, lifting it as if she were testing the load he carried.

Marcy knew what was going to happen. The man's erect cock was bobbing directly in front of Kate's mouth, and her eager kisses were moving toward it. He took a deep gasp of air when she buried her lips in his pubic hair that started tugging and chewing. Her mouth was just above the base of his sperm-seeping prick. Her face moved round the cock and her tongue darted out to explore his scrotum while her hand fisted the staff of his tool.

Then the man spoke, clearly, distinctly, his voice like a heavy clap of thunder in. Marcy's ears. "Oh, yes… Kate, darling, feels good… feels good having your tongue lick around my cock like that."

It was her father's voice.

Then he raised his head above the pillow and there was no doubt.

It was her father's face, its features contorted in lust as Kate prepared to suck his hard cock.

Marcy wanted to scream. She wanted to bound down the stairs and away from the house. But she couldn't. She was fascinated, frozen and rooted to the spot where she stood, by the scene unfolding before her.

Her head was also spinning at the enlightened vistas that her father's adultery was opening up for her.

She remembered his conversations. His devoted parroting of everything Marcy's mother said.

"It's not that sex is dirty, Marcy. I just think it should be saved for marriage."

"Yes, Father."

"A slut is a slut."

"Yes, Mother."

"Young girls today have strange values about sex."

"Yes, Father."

"Don't you get those ideas."

"No, Mother."

Suddenly, Marcy felt a strong sense of indignation about the guilt she had felt, about not having the sex she had wanted because she was afraid her family would hear stories about her. Suddenly the whole atmosphere of her family, the town, and the church became stifling. It wasn't home for her any more.

She saw all the hypocrisy around her. Her whole body shook when she thought of being trapped in the static confines of her little home town under the watchful eye of her mother, and never going beyond that experience.

The watchful eye of her mother?

She looked back into the bedroom. Her mother's watchful eye hadn't watched her father close enough.

Kate's tongue had slowly slid upward along the shaft of his cock to the swollen head. Although Marcy was deeply hurt by what she saw, she was also aroused. She remembered her own hands fondling testicles and her mouth sucking a creamy cock.

As Kate Morris started sucking on his cockhead, he growled sensuously, and the sound of the other woman's cock-stuffed mouth, sucking wildly on the rigid dick, made Marcy squirm with desire. She couldn't help but reach down and run her hand under her dress until she felt her own creaming pussy. Trying to get at least a small part of the experience, she pushed aside the thin crotch band of her panties and shoved three fingers up her heated cuntal passage.

"Turn over!" Marcy heard the older woman say. "Turn over and spread your… wide… real fucking wide. I'm gonna suck that dick of yours good… and you're asshole."

He did as she said, and Marcy looked on with horror as the woman spread his ass cheeks and plunged her tongue into the crevice. She moved her head up and down along his crack, sometimes lingering in the center.

"That's wonderful," he whispered loudly. "Try your tongue on the back of my balls. Yes, that's it! Ohhh, so warm and nice! Keep doing it just like that!"

She kept it up for several silent minutes. He lay spread out in front of her completely still, enjoying the movement of her enthusiastic tongue. After a while he raised his hips slightly, exposing more of his anal region to her. She responded with even more vigor while fondling his balls with her hand at the same time.

"Turn over," she said. "I want to grease your prick."

He turned over onto his back, and she dipped her fingers into the goo of her cunt and then smeared the substance on his long penis. She worked the lubricant up and down the shaft, slowly masturbating him. As her hand moved slowly back and forth over his sensitive cockhead, her other hand applied the smooth love juices to his testicles and anus.

"I'm going to come… I'm going to shoot like hell!" he gasped. "Better wait a minute!"

She stopped her expert stroking and kissed him. He ran three of his fingers up and down her wet slit with one hand and kneaded her breasts with the other. The heavy friction in her cunt caused the woman to squirm and breathe heavily.

Marcy could see his fingers moving along the woman's hairy valley, sometimes tickling her, other times plunging his lubricated finger into her opening.

Marcy felt herself shaking with fear, anger and desire, all at once. To her, the entire scene was one of betrayal. She wanted to scream, but she also wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. Instead, she watched with utmost fascination.

"Me too," said the woman, flipping her long hair away from her face. "Me too I'm going to come! Stop! Let's finish off with a good fuck!"

Without a further word from either of them, the woman moved on top so that she was straddling his hips.

"Let me do it," she said. "I'll slide you into me just the way I like it."

She raised herself just enough so that Marcy's father's erect penis was poking against her opening, and then she slowly lowered herself onto it, sliding down farther and farther until she was entirely impaled on his elongated shaft.

She began to rotate her hips slowly, and bent over so that her breasts were close to his mouth. Marcy couldn't see him kissing her breasts because Kate's hair covered his head. But she could hear the sucking sounds he was making and Kate's groans as she kept sliding her hot vagina back and forth on his penis.

"This is it!" Kate was nearly shouting. "I love the way your cock feels inside me! So deep and hard! This is it! I'm almost there… I want you to come first!"

"You're going to get your wish, my sweet," he said, barely able to control his voice. "Keep it up… there, there! I'm making it!"

From then on his actions were frantic. His hips met hers again and again, rapidly slapping their bodies together.

"I feel your cum, baby!" she said. "I feel your hot, squirting cum! Ohhhhh! I'm coming too! Mmmmmmmm!"

As the couple continued fondling each other in the bedroom, Marcy's fingers were working furiously in her own cunt. In, out, in, out, she jammed her fingers through the soft lips of her vaginal tract, deep into the swimming recesses of her youthful body.

She bit her lip to keep from shrieking out loud as she came and came. It was a strange and taut climax that was so shot through with pleasure that it nearly hurt.

She rippled her cunt muscles as if she were milking cum from her fingers.

When it was over, Marcy felt suddenly alone and out of place. She was also afraid that she would be seen or heard, and couldn't help but think how humiliating that would be. She knew that if she left right then, they would probably hear her, so, instead, she waited for them to begin talking or moving, anything that would cause them not to notice her.

It took what seemed like forever, but eventually Kate started sucking on her father's prick again. His cock quickly swelled until it was fully erect.

When they were totally immersed in each other's bodies again, Marcy sneaked down the stairs and out of the house.

Walking home gave her time to cool off and think. Her father had deceived her. But then, Marcy reasoned, if she had to live with her mother, she would probably do the same thing. But that thought didn't soften the blow of her father telling her one thing and doing another.

She wanted revenge, and by the time she walked into her own house she had figured out how to get it, both against her father and against Kate Morris for toppling one of Marcy's sacred cows.

"Marcy," her mother said when she walked into the living room and her mother saw her still carrying the magazines, "didn't Mrs. Morris want them?"

"Oh no, Mom," Marcy replied, "I just never got there, I didn't feel well, so I came on back home. I think I'll lie down for a while."

She didn't hear her father come home, but when she came downstairs he was sitting, reading his paper, in his favorite chair.

She was about to put the first part of her plan into action, but she needed the car to do it.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"I'm a little bored… could I borrow the car?"

"Where are you going, honey?"

"A movie."

"Did you ask your mother?"

"Dad, I'm eighteen," Marcy said, anger about the afternoon rising in her throat.

There was some strange depth in his daughter's eyes he hadn't seen before. "But I guess you know enough by now to take care of yourself."

He tossed her the keys and went back to his paper. She went upstairs and threw a sack out her bedroom window. In the garage she found an old board in the used lumber pile with two large spikes through it. She placed it in the trunk, and backed out into the drive.

Checking the lighted living room window to make sure her mother or father weren't watching her, she ran around the house and retrieved the bag. Placing it in the trunk with the board, she got in the car and backed into the street.

Marcy drove clear across town until she found herself in the wealthy section. She stopped in a gas station.

"May I use your rest room?"

"Sure," said the young attendant, "around the side. It's unlocked."

Clutching the paper bag, Marcy walked around the building until she found the rest room. Inside she locked the door and stripped completely. She started with her hair. The pins came out and the hair came down. Then she worked on her face. The lips became a red gash, the eyebrows became arched, the eyes took on a blue tint. She carefully put on false eyelashes and highlighted her checks with blusher.

She stepped back, looked at herself in the minor, and nodded in satisfaction.

Then she started dressing. The panties were flimsy, black, and very sheer, with the material cut high on the hip in the French style. The black bra she fastened around her large breasts was also French-cut, so that it pushed the mounds of her breasts up and together, giving her a deep valley of cleavage.

Skirt and blouse were next. Then she stuffed her other clothes in the bag and went back into the main part of the station.

"Jesus!" the young attendant gasped when he saw the transformation. Ten minutes before a young girl had gone into the rest room and now, out came this beautiful, mature woman.

"Can I use your phone?" Marcy asked, studying the young man, somehow recognizing him.

"Sure… sure," he replied, "it's right there on the wall."

"And the book?"

"Hanging underneath it."

Fishing in her purse for a coin, Marcy crossed to the phone. She flipped through the telephone directory until she found Robbie Hart's number. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the young attendant staring at her with his mouth open and his eyes bulging.

She smiled to herself in satisfaction, and dropped a coin in the slot. As she dialed she turned her body in the young man's direction.

She leveled her gaze at him, taking in the rich head of blond hair, the easy grace when he moved, the heavy muscle-corded arms and shoulders, and the taper of his body where it narrowed to his waist and hips. Her eyes stopped and fixed when they saw the bulge in his tight Levi's.

Her staring made him nervous at first. Turning on the local high school girls and a few older women in his neighborhood had been one thing, but this chick was definitely something else.

Her eyes moved back up to meet him. He smiled, and she returned it, again dropping her gaze to the now more prominent swell. She deftly touched the tip of her pink tongue to her red lips, running it smoothly across them to let him know she admired what she saw.

He finally got up enough nerve to fully return her stare, and was equally delighted with what he saw. Heavy, black hair cascaded around the bare whiteness of her shoulders and fell in flowing waves down her back. The thin blue filminess of the plunging blouse barely covered the bra which in turn exposed the barest suggestion of rosy-pink nipple above its lace. A tiny waist flowed outward to a generous expanse of hip and thigh. The miniskirt she wore was for looks only, barely serving the purpose of covering her. The skirt was tight across her hips and ass, molding to them and revealing their lushness.

As his stare continued, she sensed his interest, and kept it at a peak by slouching a little to throw her mound forward. In his mind he could see the tiny black curls surrounding the slit of her cunt.

The spell between them was broken when the buzzing on the other end of the line stopped and a voice said, "Hello?"

"Could I speak to Robbie Hart, please?" Marcy said, returning her attention to the telephone.

"This is Robbie."

"Oh, good… I was hoping you'd be home for vacation. How's school, Robbie?"

"It's fine, I guess. Who's this?"

"Marcy Whalen," she said.

"Marcy Whalen? What are you…?"

"Why am I calling you, Robbie? Because I'm home from school, too," she said, hoping she was putting enough of a sultry quality in her voice that he would forget all the limes she had turned him down and put him down when he had tried to date her in high school.

"So?" be said, not sounding very impressed.

"So I was wondering if there was a party on at your place tonight. I know your folks are in Florida for the holiday, and I know that when they're away."

"What if there is a party, Marcy? You know it's not the kind of party that you dig."

"Maybe it is, Robbie. Maybe I've changed."

"Oh?"

"But only on the inside," she said hastily, and laughed. "The outside… the part you always liked, hasn't changed a bit." She could hear him take a great gulp of air on the other end of the line.

"Maybe you should come on over," he said.

"I'll do just that. I'll be there in ten minutes," she replied, and replaced the receiver.

She picked up her purse and the sack and turned to find the young man staring at her in awe. He smiled sheepishly, but nevertheless took all of her in with his eyes.

She crossed to him. "I wonder if you could tell me where forty-two Norton Lane is?" she said, leaning over from the waist in front of him. The full, scoop neck of her blouse fell outward so her firm, thrusting breasts with their pink nipples were clearly visible to his eyes above the barely restraining bra.

"Yeah, sure," he gulped. "Next street down… take a right… go two blocks… another right and it's the great big house on the corner."

"Thanks," she said.

"I know you now," he said.

"Oh?"

"You're Marcy Whalen… I'm Fred Cox. I was two years behind you in school."

"Sure," Marcy said, again taking in his big, muscular body. "You're the big football player this year."

"Yeah… me and my brother Ted."

"It's nice to see you again," she said, and started for the car.

"Yes?"

"While you're home… ah, maybe we could go for a ride some night… y'know, have a couple of beers?"

"Well, I don't know, Fred," she said, opening the car door. "I rarely get to date; my parents are very religious, you know."