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

CHAPTER FIVE

When Marcy awoke the room was in near darkness. The only illumination came from the burning coals in the fireplace. Naked, sleeping bodies sprawled round her, and Wilma Dale's face was still partially between her legs. The girl had a pleasant smile on her lips.

A slight tingly feeling started at the very edge of Marcy's labia and rippled up through her cuntal walls as she looked at the other girl and thought about the brief time they had made love.

It had been good. Almost more satisfying than the whole evening. She thought for a moment about awakening Wilma and quietly going around the world one more time.

No, she thought to herself, there would be all the time in the world for sex and love. Right now, she was going to do what she had decided to do.

She eased herself away from the sleeping girl, gathered her clothes, and crept up the stairs. She tried three rooms until she found a bath. Quietly, she ran a shallow tub and took a warm, relaxing bath.

When she was fully dressed she returned to the first floor. At the bottom of the stairs she almost ran into Robbie as he staggered from the kitchen with a bottle of soda.

"Leaving?"

"Yes," Marcy replied. "I'm going to go out and get some sex."

"Well, we're all a little pooped tonight," he said, as if he felt he had to make an excuse, for her leaving. "But drop around tomorrow, Marcy… when I'm fresh."

"Not a chance," she said. "At my next orgy I want some men."

She walked out the door leaving him standing, his face contorted in anger.

"Well," she said aloud as she climbed into the car, "if that doesn't piss him off, nothing will."

Marcy knew that the chance of her parents learning about the evening were good, but she also knew they would be far better if she attacked Robbie's manhood.

She drove back to her own neighborhood and parked not too far from the theater where she should have seen the evening's movie. Crawling into the back seat, she quickly changed clothes, making herself back into the sweet little girl her parents expected.

She then took the board out of the trunk and placed it under one back tire. She started the car and drove over the upraised spike three or four times to make sure.

She locked the car and stood a few moments watching the tire deflate. Then she took the board and her sack of clothes and started for home. On the way she dumped the sack in a garbage can.

"Marcy… where have you been?" her mother said when she entered the house.

"The movies."

"But it's two-thirty in the morning. Your father and I have been going crazy with worry."

"I had a flat."

"Why didn't you call?" her father asked.

"I tried… the phone was busy," she lied. "I tried to get it fixed but I didn't find anyone… I walked and walked… but I couldn't find a station open."

"Poor baby," her mother said. "You go right to bed. We'll get the car tomorrow."

"Did you have a good time, honey?" her father asked.

"Oh, yes, Daddy," Marcy replied. "I had a fabulous time… but the movie was a little dirty… I was really embarrassed."

"It's this new permissiveness," her father replied. "You just have to pray."

"I did," Marcy said. "I really did."

She spent the next three days calling the Reverend Morris' house. She always got Kate Morris and hung up. Then on the afternoon of the third day she hit the jackpot.

"Bill Morris here."

"Reverend Morris, this is Marcy Whalen."

"Yes, Miss Whalen."

"I'm on the committee to select judges for the fashion show that's put on every year by the Young Women for Civic Action…"

"Yes, but…"

"Wt have one male and one female judge every year. We would like you to be the male judge. The proceeds go to help… unwed mothers."

"That's a good cause," he replied, "but I know absolutely nothing about fashion, Marcy."

"I realize that, Reverend Morris, so a couple of the girls and I have planned a preview showing at the Carlyle… the business suite? We'll let you in on all you need to know."

"Well, I don't know."

"It will only take a couple of hours and the show is next month. Please?"

"Well, I suppose it will be all right. What time?"

"Eight o'clock tomorrow evening."

Marcy had seven hundred dollars in her savings. She withdrew it all, hid six hundred of it in her room, and headed for the Carlyle.

"Now let me get this straight, Miss. You just want to rent the suite for two hours tomorrow evening?"

"That's right… from eight to ten."

"Well, that's highly irregular."

The assistant manager of the Carlyle Hotel was a little man with huge glasses who was probably afraid of his own shadow. But he was all eyes as he scanned Marcy's breasts and legs.

He was probably somewhere in his forties and, from his naked finger, she guessed him to be single. He was also obviously afraid for his job and did everything by the book.

"I'm afraid we would have to have two hundred dollars for the suite," he said. "In advance."

She hadn't figured on nearly that much. "But that's one hundred dollars an hour."

"Yes… I'm afraid so… and I would like to see some references about your organization."

Oh shit, Marcy thought, that would be impossible. She was determined not to blow it now… after going this far. "I would like to see the suite," she said, deciding to gamble on the interest his eyes had shown in her body.

"Very well," he said, standing and moving around the desk. "Right this way."

Marcy smiled openly at his back as she followed him to the elevator. She was sure she had seen a very large bulge in the front of his pants.

"This is the showroom and over there is the lounge and bar," he said, gesturing to the door leading off the large main room, which contained a runway and several easy chain and sofas. "And in here is the bedroom. It's rarely used unless a client wants to spend an entire… a… ahem, sometimes do some entertaining."

She jumped on it.

"Entertaining?" she said.

"Yes… but, of course, you wouldn't be needing this room."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Marcy said. "I kind of like to do entertaining!"

"I don't think we mean the same kind of entertaining," he said nervously.

"Maybe we do," she said. "Could we have a soda or something? I'd like to see the runway in lights."

He closed the windows while she got them both a soft drink from the bar. While she was in the bar she slipped her bra and panties off and put them in her purse.

When she returned to the room it was too dark for him to notice that her breasts were swaying, unfettered, beneath the thin material of the blouse. She handed him a glass and sat beside him on a sofa facing the runway.

"Very nice," she said, watching the colored lights play across the runway.

"It's the latest equipment," he said. "All the lights are on swivel rotors that are designed to accent the model no matter where she moves."

He was talking about the lights and the runway, but his eyes were on Marcy and she knew it. He was trying to get a better look in the semidarkness at what he was sure were her dark nipples showing through the white blouse.

"I'll see," Marcy said, and jumped up on the runway.

She moved back and forth in the light, doing the best imitation she could of a model's movements. The man didn't notice. All he could see was her body. When she was directly above him on the runway he could look up and see every hair on the mound between her legs. When he looked up at her breasts, he was surprised to see that her bustline was indeed all hers.

When Marcy was sure that his cock was so painful in his pants that he could hardly stand it, she moved off the runway and stood in front of him.

"Do the lights do me justice?" she said.

"They… they hide very little," he stammered. "But they still don't show enough… do they?" she said.

She unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it from her shoulders. Then came the skirt, slowly, inch by inch, downward, until the dark triangle of her pubic hair gleamed in the light before his eyes. She kicked the skin off and leaned forward, so her breasts swayed tantalizingly in front of his face.

He could feel the uncomfortable bulge in the front of his pants and knew it was clearly obvious to her. He shifted a little in his seat to ease the stain caused by the taut fabric. It only made it worse.

"I can see that it's big," Marcy said, looking directly at the front of his trousers.

"Miss… I don't know what you think you're doing, but…"

"I wonder if it's too big…" Marcy said.

"Too big?" he replied.

"I guess not," she said. "I don't think they come too big, do they? I mean, I think I'd like a big one."

"Too big for what," he said, the perspiration pouring off his face.

"To suck," she replied frankly. "And to fill up my pussy. I'll bet yours would really fill up my pussy. Did you lock the door?"

"It's a… it's an… automatic lock," he said.

"Well, then, let me see it, honey. Don't keep it all to yourself."

He undressed like a robot, as if she had turned a key in his back and pushed a button on his forehead that said, "undress".

She was surprised when she saw his cock. The head was swollen to bursting and it throbbed as tiny drops of fluid glistened in the slit. The shaft was thick, with pulsing blue veins that betrayed his passion.

"Beautiful cock," Marcy mewled, and thought how lucky she was… she would be able to get some pleasure out of the job at hand. She curled down into a crouch in front of him, running her hands over the length of his rod.

"Please, Miss Whalen… we just can't…"

She silenced him by parting her lips and sliding the full length of his pulsing meat down her throat. She lifted her face off of it and repeated the action. Her lips settled into the pubic hair at the very base of his cock.

"Oh my God," he groaned.

He had thought about fucking her from the moment she had walked into his office. But then, he always thought and dreamed about fucking the beautiful women he met; he just never actually got to do it.

He turned his head, gasping as her tongue worked on the sac containing his balls. She moved up beside him on the sofa.

He watched her smile at him out of the corner of his eye. Taking a chance, he slid his hand all the way up the inside of her thigh. She slid down in the seat and spread her legs.

He gasped at his good fortune, at her obvious readiness, and the way she had thrust her body at him.

"If you want it," she said, "take it."

He had somehow expected that he would have to conquer her, seduce her. Instead, she made herself so available he didn't know where to touch her first… her ass, her tits, her delicious furry cunt, or all of them at once.

He dove for her tits. The purple tips stood out like daggers, pulsating, rubbing against his lips. They were huge and sweet as he sucked them between his lips, twisting and squirming as they entered his mouth.

His body shook with a tension that seemed, to her, to border on fear. She couldn't understand it. Didn't he want to fuck? She didn't know that he had never been this close to such female perfection before.

She made her breasts quiver and shake for his delight. He mopped his brow and put his mouth farther over her breasts, sucking at the hot nipples. He caressed her down the length of one leg, and then up the fullness of her buttocks. She lay there with her hair falling to her shoulders, hips rotating, grinding against his greedy cock. She whimpered and brought her thighs apart to absorb the heat of his body.

"Your cock feels good between my legs like that, just touching my pussy," she said in a groggy voice.

He interpreted her words to mean that she was afraid of his prick. It gave him new confidence and strength. He kissed her beneath her breasts again and ran his tongue under her armpits. The kiss came farther down to her navel, teasing the crest of her belly. He settled between her legs on his knees. He stared at the wide patch of black hair over her cunt. Cupping her buttocks in both hands, he rotated her ass so her pussy was up against his mouth.

He began sucking in and around her cunt. His tongue lapped up over the hump of her mound, then squeezed through the lips to find her little bud.

"Your cunt's juicy," he sighed. "And your thighs are so wonderful… I love full, heavy thighs." He withdrew his tongue and licked the insides of her thighs and underneath to where her buttocks came spilling down.

"What do you want, honey? Tell me what you want!" he moaned.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" she said, exasperated. "I want you to fuck me, damn it! Stick your cock in my cunt, for crissakes!"

He centered his throbbing prick at her hole and nudged it through the outer folds. And then all hell broke loose. She became a volcano of sex and lust. She lunged with fury against him, sheathing all of his cock in one gigantic thrust of her hips. Her cunt seemed to take his whole body rather than just his cock.

"Oh God!" he screamed. "Easy, take it easy!"

She paid no attention to him. She wrapped her legs tightly around his skinny hips and fucked her cunt with powerful precision over his meat. She was all over him, under him, over him. She seemed to be tearing his cock out by its roots with her pounding thrusts. He had never been fucked so completely and so frighteningly.

He came and still she went on, refusing to let him go. It felt as though his cock were being ripped away and his balls were being turned inside out. It started hurting. He begged her to wait. On and on she went until his cock went limp inside her and still she fucked.

At last she turned him loose as she came and watched his cum and her flowing juices run down between her legs to form a huge puddle in the sofa.

"You're some kind of woman," he breathed.

"Thanks," she said, scrambling back into her clothes. She picked up the key to the suite from the floor where he had dropped it. "I'll just take this with me now," she said.

In the elevator going back down to the lobby, she thought about the little man, and about men in general; they were a lot of fun, but they were really silly and brainless in many ways.

She spent the money she saved on the hotel suite to rent two cameras. She was sure, from what the clerk in the photo department told her, that they would do the job in almost any light. She also bought several packets of color film.

Now everything was ready. Except help. She would need someone to take the pictures; someone she either trusted or had some kind of hold over. At this point in her life, Marcy trusted absolutely no one, so she opted for the latter alternative.

On her way home from the camera shop, she stopped by the station where she had changed clothes.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"Yes… is Fred Cox here?"

"No… and he won't be in tonight… he's off."

"Oh dear," Marcy said, hiding her elation. The fact that he wasn't working that night made the whole thing that much easier. She wouldn't have to stay out late and make up an excuse for her parents. "Do you know where he lives?"

"Yeah… but I doubt if he's home. Come sundown he and his brother usually hit Main Street and cruise. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," Marcy said, and smiled her thanks.

"Shit… shit, piss, fuck," Ted Cox lamented into his third beer as it rested between his legs on the seat of the car.

"Cool it and, open me another beer," Fred said. Ted did as he was asked and handed his brother the can. "I feel like going over there and beating it off on the pound."

"The night's still young," Fred replied. "We'll finish these and head back to town. It's Friday night. There's bound to be some action somewhere."

"Bullshit. I don't think there's a broad in this town that fucks since Big Carol moved away. God damn but she could blow a cock!"

"There's always somebody around who's horny," Fred said, downing half his beer in one swallow.

"Yeah… us," Ted replied, doing the same. "I told you those two little pussies we picked up wouldn't fuck."

"How the hell did I know they'd be willing to walk eight miles back to town… Jesus, they're crazy."

"S'pose they'll tell anybody?" Ted asked. "I mean, about the way we tried to make 'em?"

"Right about now I don't give a shit," Fred replied. "The way I feel, if they were back here in the car I'd rape the shit out of both of 'em."

"We damn near did."

"Let's go back to town," Fred said, "maybe we can still score." He threw his empty can out the window.

"You're drivin'," his brother said. "I'm drinking."

Ted opened another can of beer as the car pulled out of the pasture where they had parked, and thought back to the previous year when he had practically raped his girl friend, Marge.

"Prick-teasing little bitch," Ted said aloud. "What?"

"No… where are we?"

"Back on Main Street, but it looks awful damn quiet," Fred replied. "Wait a damn minute, baby!"

"What," Ted said, sitting upright. "I think we might have somethin' after all."

"What… where?"

"Up ahead… in that green car… I know her."

"Who is it?" Ted asked.

"Marcy Whalen."

"Marcy Whalen," Ted said disgustedly. "Sheeeeeit. All she'll do is read us the Bible."

"Maybe," Fred said, remembering how she had looked that night in the gas station. "And maybe not."

He jammed down on the accelerator and pulled out of the line of traffic to overtake her.