No Controlling Legal Authority Ch. 16byTheScribe©
In a couple of minutes, Nancy's voice boomed over the hidden speakers again, "OK, Archie, I got it set up for you. I'll put it on the overhead."
"Oh boy, Gene," he squealed happily, pointing toward the ceiling above the couch, "look."
She stared up in amazement as a twelve by twelve foot section of ceiling retracted into the surrounding ceiling and an immense television screen, being lowered slowly by whirring electric motors, descended into the room. The giant screen lowered to within ten feet or so of the bed-like couch and hesitated. The bottom of the screen lurched once, then descended smoothly another foot or so, tilting the screen slightly. She gaped in amazement at the technology, and the expense of such an apparatus, and Archie laughed,
"Neat huh? She tilts it like that so we can lay down and prop up on pillows and see it better. Come on."
He pulled himself toward the back of the couch, crawling with his elbows, and she followed him. He picked up a pillow and handed it to her, saying, "Here, you can have this one," and he pulled another one and placed it under his head. She followed suit, placing her pillow next to his and laying back with her head on it. Archie was laying with his hands behind his head, all stretched out and comfortable,
"Ain't this great," he exclaimed, just as the screen above them flickered to life.
Imogene didn't respond; her eyes were glued to the suspended screen. A few indefinite lines zapped across the screen as the electrons energized. She looked beyond the screen and noticed the spotlights in the ceiling dimming, while the screen was illuminating. The room darkened and, suddenly, an image of herself, huge, a nine foot, nearly naked Amazon, loomed in the darkness above the couch.
"God," she breathed softly as she recognized herself slinking out of the dressing room.
"See! It's you; just like I said," he said with some satisfaction at having been proven right.
She watched herself slither across the room, her image looming larger and larger as she approached the couch, and realized she was seeing herself as Archie had seen her earlier. Suddenly, just when she had that camera angle figured out, the perspective changed, and she was standing with her back to the camera. A moment later the perspective changed again, and she realized that she was watching a sort of montage of footage, that had been shot from different angles, from different places in the room. On some shots the camera zoomed in on her, zeroing in on her breasts, or face or crotch, and she was shocked at the detail she could see in a ten foot by ten foot close-up of her pussy.
Archie lay quietly, obviously enjoying the show and scarcely moved a muscle. He stared trance-like at the whirling, undulating figure on the overhead, largely ignoring the live woman lying beside him. His eyes tracked the image on the screen as she moved from edge to edge and back.
I don't remember crossing the room that many times, Imogene thought, but I guess I must have hung around cause it was making him so happy. She could hear his cheers and clapping on the soundtrack, as she made her fourth pass in front of the couch and headed toward the doorway to the dressing room.
"Look, look," he whispered urgently, when he detected her attention wavering, "she always shows this part right after the first nightie." "Look at whaaaaaa...." she started to ask, then, gasped, "Oh, Jesus," when, just as her image disappeared into the dressing room, the camera panned to Archie, who was in the act of lifting the edge of his towel, and it zoomed in on the boy's crotch. He was fully erect and pointing straight up. The boy clasped himself with his hand, his fingers not nearly encircling the thing and shook it proudly in the direction of the zooming camera. The image approached, grew larger, and loomed in the void above her like the prow of a huge ship, and she felt like she was about to be overrun by the bow of the ghost of the Titanic.
"My God," she said in awe.
"I know, I know."
"I'm big, aren't I," he whispered proudly.
"No kidding," she whistled, and stared goggle-eyed at his hand moving, rubbing himself, above her, and she could almost count the hairs on the back of his hand.
Archie continued to lay still, content to watch himself stroking his cock in some weird voyeuristic ritual, while he waited for the model's return.
Imogene inched toward the boy, and their hips touched. She watched his hand rising in the image above her and whispered, "Does it feel good to touch it like that?"
"Yeah," he replied, but he sounded distant, mentally detached.
"You didn't touch it while I was there, though."
"I'm not supposed to show it to you till mama says."
"Mama says? How'd she tell you? I was here all the time, and I didn't hear her say anything."
"She says when you're ready to see it."
"She told you when I was ready?"
"How, Archie? How'd she do that?"
"The light. She turns on the light."
"What light, Archie?"
"The green light over the door to the dressing room."
Imogene raised her head and looked toward the dressing room, searching for the light.
"You can't see it, cause its not on, now."
"She turns it on from inside the dressing room, when she says you're ready."
"Then, I can show it any time after I see the light come on."
"How come the light's not on now?"
"Means you're not ready."
"The hell I'm not," the frustrated girl snapped; the steel spring of her passion wound another turn tighter, and her tension was obvious in her tone as she continued, "Tell her to turn it on, Archie. Tell her."
"Won't do no good; she don't listen to me about that," he replied, matter of factly acknowledging his lack of authority.
"Well, you listen to me then, Archie. I'm ready; I'm readier than I have ever been; ya hear me?" Reaching for him as she spoke, she let her lust choose her words and hissed hotly, "I'm ready for you to shove this big prick of yours up my hot, wet pussy and fuck me, now."
"But, but," he protested weakly, "mamma's got to..."
"Mamma's got nothing to do with it, Archie; this is just between you and me, baby; when a woman tells you she's ready for you, nothing else matters; not what your mamma says, not what you think you know, not even that the light's not on. Do you understand?" She rolled the boy's sex back and forth across his belly much like she rolled out the dough for a mess of Rufus' biscuits. Her fingertips pressed lightly into his soft flesh striving to coax a favorable response, and she prayed for him to strengthen for her. Her loins boiled and released a fresh flow of her juices, but he remained inert, and, of course, he had no idea what she was talking about.
"But, mamma," he blurted, and his features showed the pain of his confusion.
"Shit," she wailed in exasperation, and her nails raked him making him wince.
"Ow; that hurt."
"Be nice; you promised," Nancy's voice crackled from the speakers overhead.
"I'm too hot to be nice, damnit," Imogene snapped back peevishly, "how's about turning on the fucking light, so's Junior here can wake up for me?"
"Hell, yes, Nancy, the light over the door that tells him it's OK to play. Evidently, you've turned him into Pavlov's dog with that damn light, and he can't get it up without it."
"My son is not a `dog,'" Nancy boomed back taking instant offense to the unflattering characterization.
"Nancyyyyy, not a dog, `Pavlov's dog,' it's a psychological term," Imogene responded trying to moderate her voice to a more patient tone. As she spoke, she nervously yanked Archie's member to and fro like she was the shifting gears on her BMW. Archie flopped back and forth on the couch trying to anticipate Imogene's tugs and jerks, following her hand to relieve the strain she was putting on his flaccid member.
"`Pavlov, Smavlov,' what's the difference? A dog's a dog in my book," the older woman sniffed indignantly.
"Nancyyyyy, please, the light!" Imogene cried out in near desperation, abandoning the attempt to explain conditioned responses.
"The light's on, dearie; been on all along."
"Noooo," Imogene protested, "there's no light, Nancy, really.
Imogene heard a faint whirring noise as Nancy repositioned one of the traversable cameras, then a pause before the sound system coughed to life again: "You're right, honey, the damn light's out. It must have burned out in the last few minutes, `cause I didn't turn it off. That's too bad, `cause it'll be tomorrow before Jere can get somebody up here to fix it."
"Nancyyyyy," Imogene cried out frantically, "can't you fix it, please?" The felicitous shores of Tahiti were fading into the distant skyline where the sky and water met, as though she was caught in some voracious rip tide and was being swept further and further out to open sea. It seemed like the harder she paddled, the further out she drifted, and she felt like she was drowning. She gripped Archie with both hands and kneaded his unresponsive flesh, clinging to him with all the desperation of a castaway clasping a piece of flotsam.
"I don't do lightbulbs, honey, or windows, either; it's a status thing."
Imogene's hopes sagged, and, for the first time since entering the room, she began seriously to consider the possibility of failure. The dark edge of desolate despair gnawed at the margins of her mind as she mechanically continued trying to ignite the flames of passion in her passive partner. She tightened her grip, wrapping her slender fingers around his mighty bulk and attempted to masturbate him, but he wobbled in her grasp, too soft to accept her caress, and she whimpered in her growing frustration.
Archie stared upward intently and ignored the dialogue between the women. Imogene followed his eyes to the screen just as the image of the dressing room door coalesced in the darkness above the couch. She watched as the door opened and saw herself stepping through the doorway. She was wearing the spiderweb nightie, and its wetted panels clung to her strategic points, wickedly revealing her secrets. She was grinning seductively and looking directly at the waiting boy. She advanced in a sultry slink and licked her lips. Behind her, in the darkness on the wall above the doorway, a tiny, solitary green light blinked on and twinkled above her head like the Star of Bethlehem beckoning from the black void of heaven.
"Archie, look," she whispered excitedly. "There's the light, right where it's supposed to be, and it's on."
"No shit?" the boy replied eagerly, bouncing up on his elbows, and he squinted intently at the tiny green spot on the screen.
For an instant the screen went black, and Imogene felt an overpowering urge to scream at Nancy, but, in the next instant, the picture returned, larger and brighter than before, and she realized the older woman had digitally zoomed on the image. Above them, the green bulb, enlarged to the size of a basketball, loomed against the darkened ceiling and gleamed steadily, it's light filling the room with an unearthly, greenish glow.
"No shit, Archie," she replied hotly, and her fingers squeezed him to emphasize her desire.
"Gene, I," he stammered, his eyes widening in wonder at the blazing signal.
"That's not Kryptonite glowing up there and stealing your strength, Superboy," she teased, and ran the tips of her fingers up the sickly green surface of his penis. She felt the thumping pulse of his surging heartbeat, and her own heart quickened. "That's your signal, Archie. It's telling you I'm ready for you; ready for your big cock, baby."
"It's so big," he grunted uncomprehendingly, referring to the immense, glowing, green ball that was hovering above them and nearly filling the screen.
Nancy, she realized, must have enlarged the image a couple more times, guessing that more is better. And, of course, she was right; Archie was caught in the gravitational pull of that gigantic green moon and already was beginning to feel a surge of tidal forces in his loins. The boy pulsed again, and she felt him beginning to strengthen.
"It's so big, cause I want you so bad, Archie," she mouthed hotly into his ear.
"Gene," he moaned and lifted his hips.
"And, because your mamma wants you to get big, bigger than you've ever been. Don't you see that, Archie?"
"Uhuh," he gurgled, nodding eagerly in agreement, and she felt him swelling in her hand. Her tongue swept wetly through the shallow bowl of his ear and he shuddered.
She glanced upward and saw that the image of her own barely clad figure had been superimposed on the glowing ball. She was dancing wantonly, utterly heedless of her near nudity, and was crooking her fingers at the boy enticingly. She ached watching the tight points of her nipples bobble with the rhythm of her movements.
"Watch me dance, baby, and I'll make your cock all hard again. Would you like that?" Lust, quick and fierce, made her voice husky, and she mouthed the word, "cock" into his ear, like she was conjuring up the name of an elegant French desert.
"Yes," he hissed, never taking his eyes from the figure undulating on the screen above him.
She leaned toward the boy's loins and lifted his stirring cock to her lips. Palm fronds swayed in the breezes of her mind, and the outbound rip tide began to abate. I'm gonna blow this life raft up right now and, so help me God, I'm gonna ride the big bastard straight to Cancun, she declared to herself as her ovalling lips closed in a wet ring around the tip of the boy's dick. God, he is huge, she marveled as her lips failed to encompass their goal. She tried to relax her jaw and opened her mouth as wide as she could, but, still, she could accommodate only a fraction of the head. Her lips closed around the man/child, and her tongue swept in a wide circle teasing the semi-erect, sensitive tissue.
"Ohhhh, Gene," he moaned softly. He throbbed under her fingers, and began swelling in her mouth. His softness expanded within the grip of her lips like a filling balloon, and she teased him with the fluttering tip of her tongue.
Oh God, yes, she screamed in silent jubilation, when she felt him lengthen and harden for her. Her loins quivered with desire, and she longed to seize him and stuff him into her body. She lifted her head and whispered, "Does that feel good, baby? Do you like it when Gene licks your big cock?" Before he could respond, she stuck out her tongue and licked the length of him from the tip down to the top of his scrotum.
"Yesss," he grunted and jerked his legs apart to allow her access to his balls. "That feels good."
She cupped his balls in her palm and lifted them to her lips. She kissed them and licked them, and even tried to gently suck one into her mouth, but it proved to be too large for that, so she contented herself with sucking the loose skin of his sack, while her fingers probed and tickled the boy's perineum. His response was instantaneous and stupendous, and while her head dipped between his thighs, she felt his prodigious presence banging against her shoulder like a restless leg. Her own legs scissored in agitation as she knelt beside the boy and felt the advance of her own arousal.
"Do me, too," she gasped, detaching her lips for a heartbeat to express her need, and she swung her leg over his head, straddling the startled boy's face. She returned her attention to his penis, capping the head with her mouth and stabbed the eye with the tip of her tongue, while the soft curls of her pussy brushed his lips and chin.
"You smell good," he murmured between her spreading thighs, and she felt the hot wash of his breath on her belly as he spoke.
She dropped her belly onto his chest and ground her lips against the boy's slack mouth. "Don't talk, Archie, lick me," she mouthed around the swollen head of his cock.
His fingers circled around to the backs of her thighs and tugged to separate her legs. She opened for him, and her crotch settled on his upturned mouth. Her mouth engaged him, licking, chewing, sucking and nibbling his throbbing flesh, demonstrating for him the exquisite titillation her lust demanded in the fragile hope he would respond in kind. She knelt, almost crouching, over his face and guided him to her drooling opening with her hand. She sucked his glans, hollowing her cheeks with the effort like inspiring bellows, and masturbated the tense shaft of his manhood with wide-splayed fingers. The slippery lips of her sex pressed his face, wiggling desperately to entice his tongue. She felt him muttering, lips moving against her pressing flesh, but heard no sounds and was about to rebuke him, when she felt his tongue probing her delicate folds. She groaned happily as his tongue thrust between her thickening lips and nudged the hot button of her clitoris, and rewarded him by quickening the cadence of her stroking fingers.
She opened for him, her flower eagerly unfurling its dainty petals to his assault, and he sliced through her wet resistance with his slippery tongue. She gurgled in sheer, primal delight and repaid his homage by licking the weeping eye of his cock till he squirted her mouth full of steaming precum. She gulped and swallowed and her hand rose along the shaft, instinctively expressing another spurt.
His hands closed over the slender globes of her ass and pulled her closer to his lips. His tongue, rigid and erect, pierced her to the center of her passion, and she writhed on the penetrating point as his fingertips explored her cleft and teased the tender rosebud of her anus. He swept the length of her from top to bottom and, lifting his head to extend his range, he let the tip of his tongue trail sweet, wet fire across the valley of sensitive flesh under his fingers.
"Ohhh, baby," she cooed, responding to the nuclear eruption building in her loins. "Fuck me now, baby. I want to feel what it’s like to have this big cock of yours in my pussy. Oh, God, I'm so hot for you."
He gripped her ass cheeks so tightly she nearly squealed in pain, and his tongue gave her bottom another swipe that wetted her from her belly button to the base of her spine, and so sensitive had she become that all she could do was moan, "Oh my God, Archie, fuck me NOW."
"OK, OK," he replied just as eagerly, "Let me up, and I will."
She scrambled off his face and spun around on her hands and knees so her hips projected past the edge of the couch. "Come on, baby," she urged breathlessly, "Get behind me and give it to me. I want your cock; I want all of it in me, right now."
Archie rolled off the couch and positioned himself behind the girl. Her ass bobbled enticingly in her excitement, and he put a hand on one cheek to steady her, while he pointed himself at her dripping slit. He took a step forward, and the tip of his cock nudged the lips his mouth had wetted. Green light glinted dimly off her spit on the head of his prick, and he thrust toward her recklessly, taking her by surprise.
"Ugh, baby," she groaned disappointedly as his errant lunge slipped past her opening and expended itself, ineffectually, in the vacant space between her legs.
"Open up," he wheezed as he recoiled and repositioned himself.
Obligingly, she raised a knee and put her foot on the couch, widening her stance. "Hurry, baby," she urged, when she felt him touch her again, "I can't wait much longer. I want to feel you inside me."
He held her with his hand and pulled her toward him till the tip of his cock touched her lips. She felt his urgency in the mounting pressure, and she moaned her desire, "Push."
He pressed against her leaning over her back, and he moved his cockhead in little circles in hopes of widening her opening. The friction teased them both mercilessly, and, in desperation, she reached between her legs to spread her lips with her fingertips. Her fingers probed the spot where their bodies merged, and her heart unexpectedly skipped an anxious beat. Too much, she worried as her fingers reconnoitered the circumference of the massive presence pressing against her, and she hesitated.