It's What You Wanted, Isn't It?

"You're cute. I bet you fuck real good,"

desire rose and with it my dick.

"She's got the juciest cunt, Ron. Real tight too. I like it that way. I make sure it stays that way."

"There now," she continued, as my dick attained full erection.

"Let's go," Jeanette said. "Stuff your knickers back in and let him loose."

"Remember, Ron," Liz said, as she complied. "She likes it hard right from the git go. She's tight, but wet as all hell. So just plunge right in and ram her into the bed. And don't stop until I give the word."

"Is it all right to ... er ... come inside her?"

"Of course. She loves it when semen shoots up into her. Just don't go limp on her. Keep on fucking. And don't think you have to take your weight on your hands. Lie on her, crush her into the bed. She looks fragile, but she isn't. You'll find out."

Jeanette's cunt with its oversized petals, glistening in the half-light, gleamed up at me. Kneeling on the bed, I guided my penis into the neck of her vagina and was about to slide it gently in when a mighty whack on the butt drove it in, right to the hilt. Jeanette's body arched as though she was in pain, but her eyes said 'Yes! Oh Yes!' I swear she came instantly. I sensed I was in for a long night.

When I fuck a woman missionary I try to take the weight on my arms. Don't know why. Perhaps a mistaken idea that this is what a woman expects from a gentleman. Anyway, this is how I began with Jeanette. You can still get good contact with her clit if you bend over enough and carry the stroke through until your entire dick is engulfed in cunt. Well, obviously Jeanette thought so. Her groin rose to meet mine with every stroke. And Liz had not exaggerated. When she came, her limbs twitched every which way, and from the look at the way her head jolted from side to side, the only obstacle to her screaming the place down was the pair of knickers stuffed between her teeth.

I was in a position to observe this because she came rather frequently. The first sign was a sort of humming of her vaginal walls which evolved rapidly into contractions around my dick as it hammered into her. Her body began to shake, and then erupt.

But of post-orgasmic collapse there was no sign. No longer had I fucked her through an orgasm than her groin was urging me on to the next. I say as I shouldn't that I'm in pretty good shape. I can keep going this way for quite a while, long enough to get Jeanette off four times. Far from quenching her appetite, though, this merely whetted it. And my arms were beginning to tire.

"Lie on her! Crush her into the bed," came from the corner, where I deduced Liz was working on herself. "Just don't stop."

What could a gentleman do but comply? To be honest, I confess a modicum of self-interest. I'd been trying to delay it, but could you? It's mechanical, isn't it. After a while, a dick plunged into and out of a tight cunt is going to spurt, as mine did. Oh boy, a beauty! Especially since it coincided with Jeanette's fifth. The contractions of her cunt walls squeezed every last drop out of me and she kept on clenching when it was over, as though defying my cock to wither.

It usually did after an orgasm like that, but this time it did not. I've no explanation. Surely, the sight of this slip of a girl enjoying her orgasms so demonstratively was arousing. And now I was lying on her, her nipples pricking into my chest, the energy in her seemingly frail frame transmitted itself to me.

And if this were not enough, the further encouragement of fingernails digging into my back, clawing at it, was. I had not observed Liz free Jeanette from her hand restraints, but this she must have done. She'd also pulled the knickers out of Jeanette's mouth, which, an inch from my ear urged me on, panting, groaning, mouthing 'Harder, harder, faster. OhYes. OhYes. Fuck!!'

Further utterances are not reproducible in print, so I won't try.

But when the aftershocks of each orgasm subsided, it was back to panting, groaning, 'Harder. Fuck! Fuck!! Faster. OhShit!' On and on and on, one orgasm following the other. I lost count. I suppose I was preoccupied trying to suppress my own miserable No. 2, but there was no way Jeanette would allow it. MiGod, those claws! They dug in and dragged down my back, my sides, and when her legs came up and began to drum on my butt --- Liz must have released the ankle restraints --- I was done for. My head went up and half a pint spewed up and shot deep inside Jeanette's dripping vagina, which immediately resumed its contractions, clenching my dick in her, refusing to let it out.

I confess, when she failed, my dick went limp and slid out of her, I felt shame. Ridiculous, I know! A guy can't keep it up forever, which is what it seemed like I had managed. I rolled onto the bed and lay beside Jeanette, panting.

The mattress recoiled as Liz's ample figure joined the pair of us. I groaned inwardly and braced myself, expecting a sturdy hand to grasp my dick. It would not work, I knew. Out of play, it was, if not for the count! But this ignominy was spared me. A deep voice said,

"Straddle her head and stick your balls in her mouth. I think there's five or six more there."

If you've never had you balls used as a gag while a nympho 'bi' gets finger fucked from one orgasm to the next, you don't know what you're missing out on.

Yes! It hurts like hell! Between pants, Jeanette sucked on my balls mercilessly. Well, I assume there was no malice intended. It was just the natural reaction as she fought for air. I was facing away, but the effect Liz's fingers were having on Jeanette was clearly not unpalatable to her. Her head twisted from side to side, dragging my ball bag with it. Another orgasm! Onto another, yet another. They arrived so fast they merged the one into the next.

Gradually, the thrashing of Jeanette's body began to weaken, the nails dug less deeply into the flesh of my butt. None too soon. On fire, my balls felt like they'd been sucked out of their sac.

"What d'you think?" came Liz's voice as I rolled onto my back. "Probably all she can take, for now."

For now!? I looked across at Jeanette's pure white body splayed out on the bed. Not a limb moved, just a ribcage that stuck out through her skin as she slowly regained her breath.

"It'll take her a while to recover," Liz said nonchalantly. "What would you say to a pizza and some beer?"

Holy Moses!

"er... Yes! And that's a firm Yes!"

"Kay. There's beer in the icebox. What toppings d'you like?" she continued, reaching for the phone.

Liz had a healthy appetite, that I can say for sure.

"You did ok," she said as she munched on a Pizza Hawai.

"Only ok?" I replied. "What would you consider good?"

"Well good then, if it makes you feel better. Don't worry, you'll have a chance to prove yourself."

Nodding in the direction of the prone figure on the bed, she said,

"She'll be up for the next round in a while."

I looked across at Jeanette. She seemed to be asleep. Except for a slight movement of her ribcage you could have thought she was dead. Liz caught my glance and read my mind. She chuckled.

"Don't let that fool you. She's just recuperating."

I wanted to question Liz, of course. Ask her what the hell was going on. But no time seemed right. I'd steeled myself to ask anyway when the body on the bed stirred itself.

"Ooh! Pizza."

Jeanette ate a third of Liz's and a third of mine, which was more pizza that seemed would fit into so frail a frame.

"How would you rate him," Liz said mischievously, eyeing me. "Our stud for the weekend."

"Pretty good, I'd say," Jeanette replied. "Better than the last one. So far."

So far?

Round two, it seemed, required the affixing of my limbs to the bed posts. I made a half-hearted protest, but acquiesced readily enough. Well, what would you do after your eyes feasted on this now thoroughly revived, nubile chick tweaking her nipples and aching to get on your cock?

Yeah! I thought so!

She had my dick stiff in ten seconds flat, and mounted me two seconds later. That was the only part of round two that could be measured in seconds, unless this be a rather large number.

And I have to say that there are lots worse things can happen to a guy than to be tied to a bed and have a body like Jeanette's impaled on his cock. She rode me every which way. Up and down, to and fro, sometimes sitting upright with her arms at her sides, then leaning forward resting on her arms, then lying on me, her rump rising and falling, ever faster, driving my cock in and out of her.

Where the energy was stored in that frail frame I could not imagine. Orgasm followed withering orgasm, but did they stop her, or even slow her down?

I could hold back no longer. The back of my head dug into the bed, a groan emerged from my lips. A third load spewed up into that tight cunt, which promptly tightened further. Cunt walls clenched on my dick. Jeanette raised her body to the upright position and rose and fell on my cock like a dervish.

Goddamit it if she didn't manage it again!

If that sounds like a complaint, it isn't. The sight of her slender body may in any event have been of itself enough.

And there was always that other distraction, the one in the corner, sitting in an arm chair, one leg over each arm, frigging herself, four fingers, in, out, in, out, then up to massage a huge bright pink clit, revealing a chasm that waited. Liz was not going short in the orgasm department, that's for sure.

I wasn't counting, but I swear Jeanette came five times before I felt the sap beginning to rise again. Something --- possibly my grunts --- betrayed me. Jeanette slowed, rocked gently back and forth, fully impaled, looking into my eyes, which pleaded with her 'Bring me off!'

It became apparent that Jeanette had no such intention. She waited, and waited, and waited, and seemed to sense when the urgency to erupt had waned. No doubt, then, who was in control.

Her limbs announced another orgasm or two, the sap began to rise again. And again it was denied release. Now, though --- the first sign of weariness, perhaps? --- Jeanette changed position. She allowed her body to fall backwards, supported by her hands, my cock held firmly inside her until it was horizontal. She fell back, lying between my thighs, her legs astride my hips, her rump raised so I could see her gleaming mound of Venus, and slid her cunt ever so slowly back and forth.

OhMiGod!

I don't know whether you've been there, but if you have you'll know and if you haven't, you'll have to believe that a cock in this position can last a very long time before erupting. Well, mine did, at least. It must --- just must --- have been hours. Jeanette came from time to time, but quietly now, a mere exhalation of breath, a twitching in her cunt. And as for me, I've never before or since appreciated more the ecstasy of pre-orgasmic bliss.

Eventually, Jeanette's thigh muscles, holding her high enough to slide her cunt over my cock right to the hilt began to tire. I presume it must have been so because Liz appeared, suddenly, freed me from the restraints. Jeanette flopped onto her back, her thighs wide apart, her cunt, massively swollen, gleamed out at me.

"Now do her, real good!" I heard Liz say.

You're not going to believe this, but I'm telling it like it is. I plunged my aching cock into that all too willing cunt, and began to fuck like a demon. She came immediately, this time not quietly. She came again, and again. The sap had risen, and as my cock spewed a fresh load into her, she came yet again. Her hands clawed again at my back, her heels beat my butt, and her cunt walls tightened round my cock.

Goddamit if she hadn't done it again. Freed from restraint, there was no holding me. I lay on that frail body and pumped and pumped and pumped into her, full cock, full force. And I didn't stop even when the only response to her orgasms was a contraction of her cunt walls. They vibrated even as her body lay still beneath me.

Now it was my turn, I slowed, sliding my cock in and out of that liquid cunt, whose walls hummed, quivered, contracted, hummed, quivered, contracted in continuous orgasm.

I'd lost all sense of time, of course, so how long it was before my cock decided enough was enough I could not say. Teasing her was teasing me, and there was only so much of this my cock would stand. It took over, grinding a groin that appeared still all too willing into the bed, pulling out almost to the tip, plunging back down, again, again, again .....

A fifth load shot into her and still my cock would not stop. It did eventually, because it slid out. It was done, spent, finished.

I rolled off that slender frame and lay on my back panting wildly.

An eruption of breath announced Liz's latest orgasm. It sounded like a rip-snorter, but reached my ears through a fog. As I drifted into some kind of comatose state that I'll call sleep, for want of a better word, I heard Liz's voice dimly.

"Not bad!" it said.

'Holy Moses! The mother of all fucks, not bad?' my brain told me before it, too shut down.

When I awoke, a hand stretched out automatically, searching for Jeanette. In the end, I'd lost all reason, but in retrospect I had to wonder, how she could take so much. I honestly was afraid I'd fucked her to death. When my hand landed on the bedspread, this impression was reinforced. I struggled to the sitting position. I was alone in the bedroom. No Jeanette, no Liz.

My eye cast wildly around the room and fastened on the door to, I presumed, a bathroom. I staggered across. It was a bathroom. All thoughts other than the ache that coursed through every part of my being vanished. I lay under the shower for ever, wondering. Surely my memory had failed. It could not have been as I remembered. No woman alive could fuck a man like that, let alone half a lesbian couple.

I toweled myself dry, wrapped the towel around my midriff and explored the apartment. Of Jeannette and Liz there was no sign. Eventually I spotted a note propped up on a table in the hallway. It was brief and to the point.

'Out for dinner. Back around 10 for round 3. Liz.'

Round three? I looked at the clock. It read 9 -- pm, I presumed. It was Saturday night. Round three? After that!?

I inquired. No! was the rather definitive answer. I dressed hastily, slunk furtively out of the apartment and hurried off into the night, wincing.

Amazing isn't it. I'd manage two nights with Mandy et. al., two with Claudette and Chantal. But when it came to appetite, that vixen Jeanette, appearances to the contrary, had them beat hollow. All on her own. I'd found my limit, and met my match.

Chapter 10

I didn't sleep much that night. But I did on Sunday morning, while watching the Titans at Indianapolis. Of course, I felt awful. I suppose everyone does when they encounter failure. My dick, though, did not seem to share my shame. That's because it was stone dead. The only reason I knew it was still attached to me was because I looked. Everywhere else ached. My dick didn't.

Since I had not stuck around I would never know what 'Round 3' entailed, but this troubled me not. Any activity of the sexual variety had as much interest for me as women's ping pong, which the channel I had switched to by accident now showed. Five and twenty naked nymphs, lying in rows, with thighs parted, displaying five and twenty luscious cunts would not so much have raised a single grain of pollen.

And to add to it all was the ignominy that my hasty flight from Marina del Rey had ruined my plan to elicit from Liz some information as to what was going on. I was so sure I'd have got something out of her.

The days passed by. Surely my libido would return. It did not. The girls in the office were their usual flirtatious selves. They'd hang around on some pretext, leaning over so I could ogle their tits. They'd sit on my desk, one leg swinging, letting their skirts ride up.....

Well, all right. They didn't, but this did not stop me imagining that they would. There were plenty I fancied, and who found me attractive. But I'd no intention of going through the relationship mill yet again. 'Sex for sex, no complications' had long since come out early in any initial chat session, and it was always deadly. That was some time ago. Now the girls in the office passed by my cubicle with their eyes averted, perhaps even a gesture that if I'd been looking might have been interpreted as rude.

Friday evening began to loom large in my mind. I'd avoided Joe's all week. Was I going to skip Friday, too? I asked. A solid Yes! But in the end, curiosity won out. Who would show? Anyone? I went anyway.

Feeling sorry for myself, I sat the bar and tried to restrict my consumption of beer --- just in case. No-one showed. The crowd thinned. Unsure whether I was relieved or disappointed, I began to think seriously about getting gutted. I don't do this often, only when I'm feeling really low. It doesn't stop me feeling low, but in the morning I put this down to the depressive effect of alcohol. What caused the binge disappears. I suppose that's what is meant by the expression 'drown your sorrows'. It works, it really does.

But before I got going on Plan A, she materialized. Suddenly, from behind.

"Hi Ron?" she said.

She eased herself onto the barstool next to mine and placed her shoulder bag on the bar.

"Margarita," she said as Joe appeared. "On the rocks, with salt, Cointreau, no Triple Sec. Kay?"

Then to me,

"Sorry I'm late, Ron."

"Business, I'm sure," I probably said, with a tinge of bitterness.

"No, actually," she replied. "I've just had my brains fucked out."

When I looked, there was a twinkle in her eye. MiGod she was one gorgeous woman.

"I thought we might, you know. Well there's this place in San Diego...."

"I'm not leaving this bar with you, Angela, until you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Ron! That's hardly a way to respond to woman who's just offered you a weekend of sex in San Diego."

"With whom, precisely?"

"With me, Ron. Who else?"

"I thought, maybe five nubile sirens, or perhaps two French goddesses, possibly half a lesbian pair who looks like a breeze would blow her down the street but fucks like a herd of horny heifers, in heat!"

"Mmmm!"

Joe brought her drink. She sipped it.

"Pretty good. Joe mixes a mean margarita."

I turned to her, then.

"Look," I said. "I'm not complaining. How could I? Three weekends of insanely satisfying sex? I just want to know what's going on."

Angela didn't answer immediately. She seemed to be communing with herself.

I sipped my beer impassively, noting as I did, that consumption of a moderate amount of alcohol had not prevented certain body parts from showing signs of life.

"OK, Ron. Let's do a deal. If you agree to come with me to San Diego, I'll

tell you what you want to know."

I looked at her suspiciously.

"You mean, with you. San Diego with you. No-one else. Just you and me."

"Yes! Just you and me."

"Like Santa Barbara, perhaps?"

"No! Just you and me. I've cleared the weekend. It wasn't easy. That's why I'm late."

"Getting your brains fucked out?"

"Maybe."

I looked at her then. Her face was blank.

I said nothing.

"Look, Ron," she said, after a while. "I don't want to offend you, but since you're obviously suspicious --- well maybe you have cause --- it shouldn't surprise you that I fuck whoever, whenever and wherever I want. And in case that's not enough, one guy doesn't cut it for me."

That threw me. It really did! I still didn't say anything --- because I couldn't.

I was too flabbergasted.

"So the deal I'm offering you is pretty rare, for me. It's real. I'm being straight with you, but it's a one-off. You say No! Fine. You'll never be troubled by me again."

My brain attempted to encourage my tongue to utterance, but failed. I must have looked like a flounder taking its last breath on the dock.