Falling Ch. 03

Big Bill was proving more resistant than I'd hoped, and I was afraid I was losing my head for negotiations. I had a sudden "Eureka!" moment, as if the alcohol had momentarily lifted a veil from my memory of the weekend I'd met Stacey.

Trying to avoid attention -- well, more attention -- I moved my hand to the vest pocket, and then froze when I realized the lip gloss was missing. Damnit! It must have fallen out during our tussle near the bathrooms. Well, I'd have to improvise.

I brushed casually at my cheek, picking up a hair that had been glued there by some residual semen; I was fairly sure it was Bill's. I rubbed it discreetly along my lip, hoping there was a remaining trace of gloss somewhere, and then let the hair fall into the decorative candle sitting in the small glass on the table.

For once, my luck was good, and I scored a direct hit. There was just a momentary trace of that familiar incense smell as it vaporized, unnoticed by any of the others. Take that, Bill, I told myself with glee. Feeling suddenly warm, I looked around for a waitress.

Duane whistled, but I couldn't tell if he was trying to get us some service, or just show approval of the bridesmaid picking herself off the floor in the ring.

Suddenly, Jenny was there. She gave me a searching look as she finished delivering a round of shots, but didn't say anything. She looked a bit out of place on this side of the room, but I realized I still hadn't paid the dinner bill.

Hunter looked like he might say something, but didn't, and Duane and Little Bill just grinned at each other. Big Bill lifted his glass. "To hot nights and hot women!" We tossed back the tequila in unison and reached for the lemon wedges.

The crowd around us roared as a new rider swung aboard the mechanical horse. She was one of the dancers, and wore nothing except a G-string and chaps, star-shaped pasties, and a white hat. She didn't just ride the horse; she made love to it. I felt like I was on fire.

"Can't see?" asked Big Bill, and then hefted me into his lap before I could answer. "How's this?" I could feel his manhood pressing against me and realized he'd already extracted it from his pants.

I smirked, knowing Stacey's magic was working, and that he saw nothing wrong with fucking me in the middle of the restaurant. I woozily tried to remember why I wanted him to do that, but the feel of his body distracted me. "Better," I panted, "but kind of uncomfortable." Plotting and scheming would have to wait, I realized. Reaching behind me, I pushed at Big Bill's erection, but it was like trying to move a slippery iron bar. "Lift me up," I ordered.

His hands circled my waist and I rose up light as a feather. I reached down and yanked my panties to the side. Big Bill brought me slightly towards him and lowered me again, right where I wanted to be.

I screamed with mingled pain and ecstasy as his enormous pile-driver forced its way into my hungry rosebud. Bill, bless his horndog instincts, ignored my screaming and wriggling, and just pulled me further onto his tool, chasing that itch inside me.

The others glanced at me, but the noise around us was overwhelming and the girl on the horse was nearing the climax of her ride. Literally, as it turned out -- some sort of off-white goo suddenly jetted from the stallion's cock, splashing copiously on the floor and splattering some of the ringside spectators. Their companions laughed hysterically and everybody else was carrying on nearly as much as me.

There was a lull in the excitement as the girl in the chaps dismounted and made the rounds of her fans, collecting cash and using a rag to wipe off -- rather lasciviously -- the front-row victims. I sat quietly, letting my body accustom itself to Big Bill's girth, and watched the wait staff work double-time tanking up the thirsty crowd.

Jenny was back with another round of shots, and clearly realized something was up when she saw me sitting on Bill's lap. I watched her steeling herself to say something about it, and visions of my carefully-laid scheme crashing and burning raced through my head.

"Not yet!" I thought hard, and slumped in relief when she subsided and just collected the empties.

"Bring the bottle," Bill told her before she departed.

We quickly knocked back the shots, and I fought to remind myself that my goal was to get them to commit to my deal, and not just get fucked blind by his thick slab of manmeat. I wriggled experimentally and, more than pleased with the result, slowly eased myself up and down the pole impaling me. Big Bill bucked suddenly, surprising a moan from me.

It attracted the attention of the others, but I didn't want him to stop -- and he didn't. Grabbing my waist again, he started working me up and down his cock. It was impossible to mistake what we were doing, and I watched shit-eating grins appear on their faces.

Only Hunter appeared slightly reticent, and he fell into line when Big Bill told everybody, "Just like I thought. If she looks like a slut and she fucks like a slut, then she is a slut." I realized I was going to be fucking everybody at the table that night, and then my breath caught when I realized I was looking forward to it.

Big Bill edged sideways into the space where I'd been sitting, making me gasp explosively with each bounce, and Hunter switched seats so I was bracketed on both sides. Duane leaned over and began sucking and chewing on my breast, unfastening the remaining vest buttons. I felt Hunter's hand probing my wet sex and pulling my soaked panties further to the side.

"Shit, Big Bill, you're cornholing her?" he asked incredulously. He looked at me and the way I was biting my lip. "I guess I had you figured all wrong, Linnea."

They began working me over in tandem -- Big Bill's cock churning away in my bowels, Duane suckling my bouncing boobs, and Hunter's finger strumming my clit. I was desperate to cum and started squealing and panting when Big Bill began double-timing me.

I felt his organ expand and begin jetting his creamy spend inside me, but he didn't let up. "You're going to town, little lady," he rasped in my ear, and I did. My thrashing sent a basket of peanuts sailing to the floor and I saw stars -- although some of them turned out to be the flash on Little Bill's camera.

When I could see again, and think, sort of, I noticed the men at several of the surrounding tables were looking at us instead of the stage. A new set of shot glasses, surrounding a bottle of Tequila, sat on the table and the thought of Jenny seeing me like this left me feeling confused. The thought of taking cock in all my holes, in contrast, left me feeling needy and aroused.

Hunter stood up to make room and filled the glasses on the table. Duane and Little Bill already had switched places; Little Bill's dick, if not up to his namesake's standard, was more than enough to make my mouth water. When Big Bill pulled me off his magnificent rod, I sagged sideways and engulfed Little Bill's prick between my lips.

"Bottoms up!" I heard somebody say, followed by the clinking of glasses. A moment later, I felt something smooth and hard push into my loosened asshole. I had time to realize it was the bottle and then the whole room started spinning. The next several hours were a patchwork haze.

I stood in front of a stone-faced Jenny, with my vest hanging open and my skirt around my waist, trying to sign the receipt while Hunter fucked me from behind. I couldn't help giggling when the manager started yelling at her for letting things get so far.

I remembered the feel of the still-hot asphalt on my butt when I fell over with a mouthful of the manager's spunk after blowing him outside the kitchen entrance.

I couldn't explain how they made it work, but I wriggled in ecstasy when the four of them quadruple-penetrated me in the bed of some pickup. I remembered watching Big Bill bring the owner over between my spread legs so I could make things right.

When I reached the point where I could string two coherent thoughts together, it was very late, the parking lot was nearly empty, and the feel of my body told me a lot more men than just the few I recalled had sampled me. My panties were long gone, but I'd picked up a Bad Hoss hat like the strippers wore.

"You're gonna give me that contract," I told Big Bill in my most businesslike voice, and then spoiled the effect by vomiting up a load of semen on the curb beside me.

He looked down at me while he finished tucking his shirt into his waistband. "You've gotta lot of spunk, Linnea, I'll give you that." He shrugged. "Okay; Len can wait a year for his trip to Hawaii."

I blinked, not ready to have victory come so easily. "Thanks." Stacey's suggestion had worked, after all!