Love Grab at the Naked Turtle

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Softly
Softly
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She pulled the pins from her hair, which fell below her neckline. Her dungarees next fell to the floor. Below her belly button was a slight pot. Lower still was the cuntal mons. Oh my God, Roger thought. If she were mine, I would fuck her ten times a day.

"Take off your clothes," she cooed.

When they got onto the bed, she simple commented, "I don't need any foreplay. I'm ready now." And indeed, she was. Roger, now on her, felt her hand on his cock, guiding it to her slit. She gently moved the end to her hole. The tip of his cock felt the slick wetness. He eased it into her, her cuntal sheath, with its warm grip on his cock. His eyes closed, as he voiced a long, "Oohhooo!"

"Do me, Baby," she whispered.

Linda had been a slow, let's move, kiss, hold still, let me feel you in me, woman. Armanda was a woman that wanted it coming in hard, fast, with a lot of ass movement. It occurred to Roger that multiple partners were what it would take to satisfy her. That was the bottom line here. It was not the money or her wanting to party. She had to have the multiple men in her for satisfaction. If not the Delaney group, she would find it somewhere else, and probably had done so in the past.

Roger came shortly after she did. She gave him a long kiss, got up and said. "Got to go clean up. Russ will be home in an hour. Good night."

Roger lie on the bed slowly stroking his cock. He laughed to himself. She has got me. Just like that she took me out of play. I'm no threat, and she has a summer, live-in, fuck-buddy. He recalled Linda telling him, "Got you wrapped around my finger, don't I?" So did Armanda.

Just before he fell asleep, he thought, Maneaters control the world.

A couple weeks later he was eating lunch with H B. A very pretty young girl, who looked like a teen, walked by their table. "Man, she is hot, edible," Roger, offered.

H B bluntly said, "Clay fucked her for five hours last Saturday night."

"How in hell did he manage that? He is fifteen years older than she is?"

"The old fuck or swim trick."

"What to hell is that?"

"Clay takes girls across the lake to the Naked Turtle, a dive on the pier at Plattsburg. He gets all the booze into them that he can, and when all looks well, he motors out to the center of the lake, as close as he can to the state line. He stops the boat and puts the make on the female. If she resists, he tells her, Look Baby, either give me some, or I'll put a life preserver on you and toss you overboard."

"That shit work?"

"Every time. And, he has covered his ass. In a preserver, anyone can make shore in four hours, and if there is a complaint, no one can prove which state has jurisdiction."

"Five hours?"

"He has a camera set up in the cabin of his Donzi. You could see it all on the tape. Clay had her by both wrists pulling her into the cabin. Put her on her back, still fully clothed. Pulled her panties to the side and ran his salami up to the balls in her. When he come, he took her clothes off. She lies on her back looking at him, not saying a word. Hard again, he got on her and bam, slammed his salami into her again."

"You would think that she would never come here again?"

"Fat chance of that. Clay gave her five big ones, and told her that there was a lot more for her, if she was interested. Later today, she is to report to the old man, Bradford Delaney, who will invite her to join him at their camp. If she goes, she will make another five big ones."

"That is huge money for a hick area like this."

"What is really wild is that she is engaged to be married in October. Now that Clay has had her, they will offer her husband-to-be a position as a route salesman. Put him out of town, so they can keep her on her back."

Later, thinking about it, Roger asked himself, who is the winner here? That girl has five hundred dollars, and will make another five hundred by laying on her back with Mr. D. If she keeps it up, that young couple will have a nice down payment for a home, within a year.

Laughing again, Roger recalled that his Dad often said, "Baseball is not the National pastime."

Saturday, August 11 was a steaming-hot, windless day, good for lemonade, and a shady spot. Bored, Roger had to work off some energy with his weights. Standing at just six feet, and weighting a hard one hundred eighty-four pounds, Roger was what some would call ruggedly handsome. Back when he was with Donzi, he and the rest of the crew kept in shape with the weights and boxing with the eighteen-ounce gloves. Nobody fucked with Roger Kovack. You just sensed that he could take care of himself.

Russell and Armanda drove to Burlington to take in a movie. At eight-thirty, Roger hopped into his Grady and headed towards Plattsburg, New York to see what was happening at the Naked Turtle. People boated in from all over the lake. The dock was crowded with at least forty boats. Of course, the local crowd was there too. Whole place was jammed, standing room only. Some of the crowd were a rough group. Roger knew that mouthing off to the wrong guy could cost you a few teeth. He stood at the bar, sipping on a Coors. By eleven, he was bored, and was thinking of going back to Clark's. Then, he saw, Asshole, Clay Delaney. Easy to spot him, he wore a red Jacket and a red ball cap. He was leading a gal by the hand into the crowd toward the bar.

Clay saw some guys that he knew, other rich turds, with the fancy caps proclaiming them to be a Captain. He waved his fist at them, like he had just won something. As they approached the group, Clay pulled the woman ahead of him to present her as his trophy.

From afar, Roger could not see much of her face due to the huge light lens sunglasses she wore, obviously to hide her identity. She was dressed in light tan slacks, and a light tan blouse, and sandals. She stood looking first at Clay, and then at the group. There was no showy greeting on her part, nor did she start a conversation with the other women. Tall, slim, and refined was Roger's take on her.

You got that right, Roger thought, when Clay took her to the dance floor. With minimal movement, yet a sexy sway of her Playboy qualified rear, she displayed moves that only a trained dancer would present. She wasn't dancing for Clay, or the hick crowd. No sir. Her eyes were closed as she danced in her own world.

As the evening wore on, Roger observed Clay slipping his hand down to the top of her ass, or catching the edge of her breasts. Each time that he did it, she pulled away from him just a couple inches. It was subtle, but anyone other that an ass like Clay would have got the message, don't paw me in public.

Roger was suddenly alert. He had to get close to this gal. Had to.

Clay left her to go take a piss. Roger sauntered over to her. When beside her, he said loud enough for her to hear, while looking straight ahead. "If you get back in Clay's boat with him, he will take you out to the center of the lake and tell you to fuck or swim."

"Excuse me," she softy said.

"You heard me. I have a boat at the dock. If you want a ride? I will be happy to take you home. I want to get to know you."

With no expression, she evenly said, "How do I know that you won't tell me to do it or swim?"

"You tell me? Do I look like a guy who has to pull that cheap crap to find a woman to make love with?"

"I'll think about it."

Roger drifted back to the bar. A look in the mirror told him that her eyes followed him.

Roger had got a better look at this mystery woman when he was speaking to her. She was not a kid. Not much in the way of tits, she was very thin, but was what New York city guys would call a great head, stunningly beautiful.

Turning to look at her, their eyes met across the room. She openly stared at him. He knew that he had never known a woman like her. His heart jumped.

Clay returned. After the next dance, she went to the ladies room. While she was gone, Roger saw Clay putting something in her drink. Roger knew that if she drank that drink that there would be a long tape made of Clay fucking her.

When she emerged from the ladies room, he was standing in the hall. "Don't drink your drink. Clay put something in it."

She reached up to touch him softly on the cheek. "Thank you. I saw him do it. Where is your boat?"

"Left pier, at the end."

"Meet you there in a few minutes, when Clay is distracted. Will he chase us?"

"Might, but I'll take care of that."

She came running down the pier. The Yamaha was quietly purring. She hopped in. Roger pulled from the pier as Clay came running toward them. "Where are you going with my girl?" he screamed.

Now thirty yards from the pier, Roger gave Clay the finger.

Enraged, Clay jumped into the Donzi. 540 horses came to life with a roar.

Roger's passenger looked at him with fearful eyes. "He is a madman. Will he try to run us down?"

"Probably."

She looked at him intently. "You're not afraid? You're enjoying this?"

"Will be a great show."

Just then, Clay shoved the two throttles full forward. There was a rumbling thundering roar as eight thousand pounds of boat rode up onto plane. In feet the Donzi was doing sixty mph. Then the ski lines tied from the bow to the pier by Roger pulled taunt, pulling the bow in a tight arc back into the pier stacked with boats. The Donzi rode completely across a big fishing boat to come to rest bow up on the pier.

Roger turned to his passenger, who sat wide-eyed, mouth open in awe.

"Ah, shucks, poor Clay. I wonder what he will blow for the nice officers when they check to see if he has been drinking?"

"You always get what you want?" She inquired.

"Maybe. Ask me again in a couple hours?"

She broke into a full laugh. Standing, she stood close to him as he brought the Yamaha up to 3900 rpm, which gave them a quiet, smooth ride at 28 mph.

"I'm Sandra Trinkowsky. You are?"

"Roger Kovack. Where to Miss?"

"Wherever you would like to go."

"You live on the Vermont side?"

"I am staying at a hotel near the Burlington pier."

"I know a nice bay where we can stop and chat."

"I'd like that"

The bay, next to Benlaw Island was deserted. Roger explained to Sandra that the water was just three feet deep, and always warm.

"I would love to take a swim," she ventured.

"Don't have my suit."

"So?"

Roger turned from dropping the anchor to find her standing naked, beautiful in the moonlight. She wrapped her arms around his neck, while whispering, "Thanks for looking after me. I'm not used to that."

Roger's heart was pounding so hard that he thought that it would explode.

Her lips found his. Hungrily, she used her lips and body to tell him, as only a woman can, that she wanted him, needed him. When his cock slid home, she whispered to him. "Don't move for now. I want you in me while we make love."

Their lips and hips slowly ground against each other for minutes on end. The time came when there was no holding back. Roger closed his eyes; while with short hard thrusts his cock coated her cervix with his sperm.

He lifted from her to look into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"You don't know me? When you do, you may not want me?"

"If you don't run me off, I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

"Roger, first off, you don't have a clue as to who I really am. I would marry you in an instant if you did and still wanted me."

"I want to see the Sandra show. For what it's worth, you will find out that I am not a sometimes thing."

"Okay, don't tell me later that I did not warn you. I am an actress. My screen name is Susan Blake."

"Jesus!"

"You can come to Hollywood with me, posing as my chauffeur. Chauffeurs are invisible to those in Hollywood's elite. There is an unwritten rule that a chauffer neither sees or speaks of anything." After a short pause, Sandra continued. "Roger, you have to promise me that no matter what you think is happening to me that you do nothing. If you pulled a stunt like you did on Clay, I would be blacklisted. I am an A list actress. My going rate is five million a picture. There are hundreds of girls walking the streets of Hollywood who are beautiful, but were not willing to be an actress for those who call the shots, the power brokers."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You figure it out. Tell me later if you still want me? Fuck me now."

Roger had a ticket to ride. What man would pass on a chance to be with Susan Blake?

Two weeks after they settled into her home in Beverly Hills, A phone call came in from a Frank Sanfilippo's office. "Tell Ms. Blake to be in her limo waiting for Mr. Sanifippo at the Burbank airport general terminal at nine PM, tonight."

Sandra (Susan) looked at Roger with sadness in her eyes. "It starts. Soon you will know if I am for you."

"Do you regret doing it, or that I will know about it, whatever it is?"

"Honestly, there are times that I get a thrill out of men doing what they want with me. But it is the money that takes all my discretion from me. Frank Sanilippo is the money behind California Studios. I have two scripts that I am reading for them. I have the parts if I perform for them. That is a ten million dollar investment in me by them. It will be over a year until both films are in the can. During that time, they consider my body to be theirs. Director, assistant directors, producers, male leads, investors and all their friends get to stuff their cocks in me. Roger, listen to me. I have to convince them that either they thrill me, or that they are raping a poor frightened girl, as the case requires. I am never just fucking, or sucking. If it is a gangbang, I am moaning, pleading, twisting and turning, as I tell them, God, you are so big, you are tearing me apart. Four more films, Roger, and I am out of here. I will be thirty-four by then. In Hollywood, most actress are over the hill at that age."

"What then?"

"If you have the guts to hang on for the ride, I will give myself to you, and we will ride off into the sunset."

Roger remembered Linda's advice to him about a Maneater, "Marry one and stand back and watch the show."

Roger held the door for Mr. Sanilippo, who was short, stocky, very tough looking, and Roger was sure was carrying heat, due to the bulge in his suit.

"100886 East Ocean Lane."

Like most limos this one had a small camera that showed a picture of the rear occupants on a small screen on the hump of the car, as well as a mike to pick up passenger conversation.

"Take off your clothes, Susie."

Now naked, Susan cooed, "Frank, I missed you."

They both knew that that was b s.

"Get my cock out and sit on it."

Susan unzipped his pants, while he released the belt. Like most Italians, he had a thick cock. She took most of it in her mouth. He took her head in his hands to move her head up and down, as well as sideways.

"Sit on it. Make me come."

Facing toward the front of the car, Susan lowered her cunt onto his cock. She reached across the space for the jump seat to grab the handles. She ran her cunt forward and rearward at a high rate, with her small tits swinging. Roger's camera was less than two feet from her face, which filled his screen. He saw the determination in her face, while she panted, working very hard to make the fat prick come. Sweat was all over her now. On the edge of the screen, Sanifilippo was visible using his hands to slam her body down on his, while his hips drove his cock upward, deep into her cunt. His grunts and groans testified to his come being pumped into her.

"Oh, Frank that was wonderful."

"We a going to visit some a real fine boys. Their daddies are all my personal friends. Tommy Salano, he a getting married. Tonight is a little bachelor party we a giving in his honor. You be very nice to all the boys. You keep your driver here so that he can get anything that the boys want. I want him inside, so people not question why he is a hanging around."

"Fine, Frank, anything you say."

When they pulled up, Susan said, "Wait a minute while I get some clothes on."

Frank grabbed her arm pulling her towards the door. "You are here to fuck, Cunt, You're not a going to need any clothes."

Looking at Roger, who was holding the door, Frank growled, "You. You a take her to the upstairs bedroom, second door on the left. Make a sure that she pisses, douches. Let her touch up her makeup, and puts on a her heels. Then bring her down to the basement. I a promised them Susan Blake, they a getting Susan Blake."

In the bathroom, Susan Whispered, "Roger, do not do anything to piss them off. On a whim these guys would cut us up and feed us to the sharks. Do you understand me?"

"God, yes. That guy is "Big Frank" from Chicago, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Are you afraid?"

Susan looked at him for several seconds before answering. "Roger, I'm a showgirl. My part today is that of the reluctant whore, but a whore nonetheless.

These are all clean, young, Italian Stallions who are going to give me a great fucking. I may not like it all, but within the next three hours I will have at least four hard orgasms, whether I want them or not, and even if I think the guys are assholes. Their cocks in my cunt will not be denied. I will come, several times. You will know when I do. My eyes close, my head will turn completely to the side. My legs will open as wide as I can open them, so that I feel their cock extending me. I will pump my ass up with short hard little pumps as I tighten my pussy around their cocks."

Roger just nodded.

When she strutted into the downstairs room, Roger was surprised to see sixteen guys lounging around. Ages were thirty to forty. Most were stocky, short men, with thick necks. Little was said as they took off their clothes, which revealed a room full of large tight buns, thick legs and cocks that hung well below the owner's balls. Roger had heard that next to black guys, it was the Italians who had the extra meat.

He looked at Susan who was now surrounded like a lamb surrounded by wolves. All the guys were examining her face to see if she really was as beautiful as she appeared on screen. Hands were gently running across her ass, across her breasts. One bold guy had his hand between her legs, finger searching for her cunt. Roger thought that if she said, "Boo," that they would all jump.

The finger found its mark. That guy got a leer on his face as he furiously finger fucked her, an act which pulled her hips toward him. That broke the spell. She went down, with each arm pulled out to the side. Her legs were held next to her head, and the finger fucker lowered his ugly, reddish, swollen, cock to her cunt. In one motion, he settled on her, as his ass drove forward.

Roger could see just the bottom of the cheeks of her ass. Above that there was a large, hairy ass, with the cock-housing running to his balls. The cock was not in his vision, but he could tell when he was buried in her from the impact of the ball hitting her.

Each time the balls impacted, he could hear Susan let out a soft moan.

'Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh."

Roger knew that was not acting. That thick cock was extending her.

Her moans changed. "Oooohooo, Aaaaahhhaaaaaaaaa."

Just as she had predicted she pumped her ass up, as best she could, while gripping the thick cock with her clenching cunt.

Roger left the room, took a piss, and found a Coors in the fridge. Emotionally, it tore him up to see his love practicing her trade. Only the recollection of the conversation with Linda about the Irish women who wanted to go to the Castle to be fucked by the Governor kept him for doing something very stupid, which probably would have got them both whacked.

Susan had just had an orgasm. There was no denying that. In times past, without birth control, she would be being breed, if it were her time of month.

Shit, this women thing is complex. What to hell should I think of this? She has told me that if I stay until the final curtain that she will be mine. "Do I have the guts?" She had said. Her beauty was unquestioned. Brains, she was top drawer. She was playing the game by the rules. She was one of only ten to fifteen A list actresses in the entire world. And, astounding, as it may seem, she wants me. Why me? He would ask her some day, but certainly not today.

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Softly
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