Meeting an Actress

His friend, on the other hand, just pounded. Abercrombie lost himself in the sort of determination seen during weightlifting or dislodging a rusted nut.

Envy started coloring Lowery's less-than-detached regard. He tempered that by acknowledging this was much better than watching porn. His friend and this woman, their fucking was real.

Abercrombie's trance faded. Lowery filled his periphery. Amoral as Abercrombie felt, Lowery didn't deserve such selfishness. Then again sloppy seconds wouldn't be the greatest of consolations either.

His interruption got Honoria's attention. Abercrombie nodded at Lowery. She considered momentarily. Slightly peeved, she let Abercrombie withdraw his dick. Premature emptiness and untimely release, respectively, disgruntled both.

The woman signaled for Abercrombie to flip onto his back. This done, she straddled him. Honoria lowered herself on his cock, her precise alignment effortless.

Reengaged their pique suddenly vanished.

Honoria leaned forward over Abercrombie farther than the position ordinarily required. She flattened palms against his shoulders. For further support he clasped her wasp waist.

Red hair fell across her eyes. She needed one hand to restrain the cascade. With the other she fisted the lube tube and gave it to Lowery. Should he have been clueless, Honoria's jerked thumb directed him towards her ass.

In Abercrombie's view his friend reacted like a scrub called off the bench during the big game's crunch time. Neither Lowery nor Honoria knew what prompted his laughter.

Lowery swung smoothly across Abercrombie's legs. He squared himself with Honoria's behind. Better than nice, her ass formed spheres. Just seeing how both curves merged at one perfect seam stiffened his wang. If Abercrombie's hairy balls hadn't been so close, Lowery would've rimmed her crisp divide with his tongue.

While generously slathering lube on his meat, Lowery checked Honoria's back. They had resumed fucking and she leaned at an angle exhibiting the peculiarity Abercrombie mentioned.

Using his dry hand, Lowery swirled fingertips in her back's deep divots. Her active flesh no problem, he felt how thinning muscle created these points.

Investigation closed, Lowery thumbed Honoria's ass open and rammed his greasy pole into her shit chute. She lurched abruptly and coughed when not gasping. His grinding plunges hampered her breathing.

The top man's churning disrupted Abercrombie's timing. What had been a smooth-moving machine now badly misfired. Not that Lowery would've known. Nor cared.

From his topmost vantage, Lowery couldn't see Abercrombie. So single-minded was his coring of Honoria, he forgot the bottommost participant. In an urge to improve his power, he muscled up and mashed down on Honoria's shoulder blades.

Abercrombie came but given Lowery's jarring doubted Honoria registered his effort.

Lowery forced Honoria's upper torso low enough that her forward-falling hair curtained Abercrombie's face. He lay inches away from a slit-eyed grimacing mask. Tears splashed on his cheeks. She whimpered from distress, not any kind of gratification.

Lowery exaggerated his climax through long fast strokes that smacked loudly off her ass. Strength sapped, Honoria's rear end remained upright but the rest of her slumped limply against Abercrombie.

Akin to a magician yanking swords out of the box did Lowery finally withdraw his wilting tool with one heavy-breathing flourish. He clambered off the foot of the bed. Pelvis triumphantly thrust forward, Lowery surveyed those red splotches he'd tattooed onto her luscious behind.

Satisfaction was short-lived. He looked down at his joint. Lube goo, his own spume and her butt gunk coated his dick. The congealing swamp disgusted him. He bitched.

Abercrombie peeked around Honoria now entirely recumbent upon him. Hearing Lowery exclaim, she wiped damp strands off her flushed face and turned eyes on her loving tormentor.

"Jesus!" Lowery complained. "Look at this shit!"

Her indignation feeble, Honoria croaked, "What did you expect? Ice cream?"

Lowery and Abercrombie howled from their present-day locations. As astounding as the actress' retort was 18 years ago, memory lent it even greater admiration.

Should Lowery have borne any remorse about that night's discomforting exuberance, the "transgressor" kept it to himself. Just as well. Abercrombie wasn't the one needing addressing. While he wouldn't dispute any delayed sincerity offered by his friend, only Honoria van Ruysselberghe could've extended forgiveness.

"You two kept in contact," Lowery said.

"Eh," Abercrombie said. "She remembered me when movie business brought her to New York. And that stopped after I left the newspaper."

"No press, no flog."

"No press, no flog," Abercrombie repeated, wistfully.

Lowery lightened the subject. "Say, a few days ago I got a postcard from the bottom of the world. Signed by a fellow named Rufus T. Firefly."

Abercrombie warmed to the diversion. "Firefly? No. Not Firefly. But, yes, I also got a postcard. One from an Otis P. Driftwood. Seems Argentina agrees with him."

Lowery chuckled. "That's not hard to understand. Those people down there, they have their priorities straight. If we were smart maybe we could learn something."