Barrack Room Betty Ch. 13

It was while Polly was dancing with Georgio, one of Tony's friends, that Tony came over and sat down next to Michele and put two gin and tonics on the table and lit a cigarette for them both.

"You are having a good time?" he asked.

"Yes," Michele smiled genuinely at him and his face lit up.

"And you are enjoying the chore of being our escort at your mother's insistence?" she replied sipping her drink; her eyes smiling at him under her long eyelashes.

He engaged her with his eyes. Her eyes sparkled, set off by black eyeliner and mascara and smoky eyeshadow.

"It is no chore escorting la principessa," Tony beamed.

"Which means?" Michele smiled back.

"The princess," his eyes searched hers.

Michele blushed.

She was about to reply when there was a commotion on the dance floor.

"Where is she! Where is that fucking tranny cunt!"

Michele recognised the voice immediately. It was Able Seaman, Spike Jones.

"Oh fuck! It's Pink Pussycats all over again," Michele sighed.

Across the club Spike had Mary gripped by the arms and was yelling into her face.

Tony leapt from his seat and dashed across the club and began to wrestle with Spike.

"Fuck this! I've had enough," Michele whimpered.

She slunk around the walls of the club while everyone was either engaged in the scuffle or watching it and made her way out the door. She walked quickly down the street and ducked into a dark alley, glad to be free of the violence and the racket of the club. She scrambled around in her purse and found her cigarettes and lighter.

She shakily lit the cigarette and blew out the smoke in a long plume. She drew on the cigarette again and felt a little better. A shadow appeared in front of her and suddenly she was in the grip of a large man who smelled of stale sweat and cheap wine.

He pressed his body against hers and Michele tried to scream but he clasped his large hand across her mouth and pinned her against the brick wall. His breath was rancid and she squirmed in his grasp until he put a blade to her throat.

He spoke in a foreign language, probably Italian she thought, and although she couldn't understand him she knew what he implied and she stopped struggling.

The man grunted and took his hand from her mouth. He kept the knife pressed to Michele's throat and he put his hand inside her dress and roughly caressed her breasts and then her thighs. His hand moved to her flimsy nylon panties and explored inside while Michele sobbed but stayed still. His fingers soon found her gaffed penis and laughed.

"Ah femmenielli! Puttana!" his breath was atrocious but Michele endured it.

He lowered his disgusting mouth to hers and Michele suffered his kisses while he clawed at her groin and her thighs.

After a minute he eased his body from hers but kept the knife to her face. His other strong hand gripped her shoulder and pushed. It was obvious what he wanted as he forced Michele to her knees.

Once Michele was kneeling he kept the knife on her cheek and opened his trousers. The reek from his groin was worse than from his mouth and Michele began to gag as well as sob.

He extracted his long thick cock and prodded at Michele's mouth.

Pressing the knife to her cheek he grunted indicating that Michele should open her mouth and take his member.

From out of nowhere a fist crashed against the man's face whilst at the same time the knife was ripped from his hand and thrust into his thigh.

The thug screamed and put both hands on the handle of the knife sticking out his leg. Then a series of blows pummelled his face and he fell first to his knees and then lay prone on the ground as the assailant kicked the mugger repeatedly until he was unconscious.

Michele's rescuer gripped her wrist and lifted her to her feet and half dragged her out of the alley.

Michele recognised her saviour as Tony. She clung to him as he helped her along the street and when they were well clear of the alley he stopped under a streetlight and looked searchingly at her face. He gently brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked her up and down and then met her eyes again.

"Are you ok? Did he hurt you?"

Tony's concern was evident in his voice.

"I'm ok. I'm more scared than hurt," Michele whispered.

She looked down at her feet quietly crying.

Tony lifted Michele's chin and gazed lovingly in her eyes.

"No one hurts my principessa," he whispered.

Michele smiled and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

They made their way back to Mammas and upstairs to Michele's room.

Their passion was ardent and intense. They kissed in the doorway and Tony kicked the door shut and pinned Michele to the wall, his tongue invaded her mouth and he lifted her wrists up high over head and pressed his hard body against her. Michele grunted and pushed back against him, scouring her body against his, kissing him and writhing as their desire intensified.

Michele lifted a leg and wrapped it around his thigh and pulled Tony to her. He released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers, slathering, licking and sucking at his mouth.

"Oh my god," she gasped as Tony took a breath and then crushed his lips to hers.

He gripped her thighs and the split in her dress opened wide as he lifted her feet off the floor, bracing her against the wall with his body, her heels dangling as she hung on to him, her hands clasped behind his neck.

Michele released her hands from behind Tony's neck. She was effectively pinned to the wall by Tony's weight, his strong grip on her thighs taking her weight. She reached between their bodies and found the belt on his jeans and eagerly unbuckled it, and then her fingers scrambled at his flies and then yanked his jeans down to his thighs.

Her fingers explored his underpants and she gasped at the girth and length of him as she squeezed his throbbing hard manhood.

Tony gasped in her mouth and he groaned as Michele pushed her groin forward and guided his swollen member to the entrance of her anus. When his glans was nestled in her sphincter she lowered herself very slowly allowing his engorged phallus to gradually slide inside her. Michele locked her hands behind his neck to help support her weight.

"Oh! You are so big!" she squealed as her entered her.

Tony restrained himself and ceased lowering the beautiful transvestite onto his bloated weapon but Michele shook her head and pushed down on him.

"I want you inside me! I want you to fuck me! I want you to use me like a puttana!" she gasped into his mouth.

Tony gasped and thrust himself tentatively into Michele as her anus gripped him like a velvet glove. She sobbed with pleasure and ground herself against him as he held her pinned to the wall and fucked her.

He plunged in and out of her slowly but steadily as Michele gasped at each thrust; his glans was stimulating that special place deep inside her and she wriggled and bucked against him, encouraging him.

Tony slammed himself deep inside her and Michele felt his penis dilate and pulse as he orgasmed, filling her with scalding semen. Michele drove herself down on him and pulled him closer, kissing him frantically as she filled her panties with her own issue.

They kissed and caressed each other as they climaxed, mewing, moaning and gasping.

Tony kept Michele braced against the wall until they were both sated. Tony pulled Michele against his body and still impaled on his phallus, he walked over to the bed and lowered them both down so that he lay on top of her, between her legs which she locked behind him and held him close, still kissing and caressing.

Tony broke the kiss and gazed into her large bright eyes. She smiled up at him.

"You are my saviour," she giggled.

"And you are my principessa," he smiled down at her.

Later the evening Michele lay on top of the bedspread dressed only in panties, stockings, garters and heels. Tony had insisted on removing her brassiere and breastforms so that he could kiss and caress her small breasts and nipples. She had brushed her hair, changed her panties, and fixed her makeup when Tony went down to the kitchen to get a bottle of Chianti and two wine glasses.

They drank, smoked and talked late into the night. When their passions rose, which was often, they would kiss and caress each other.

It was around two in the morning when they heard Polly, Doris, and Mary return and clump up the stairs, each with a paramour in tow by the sound of it.

Tony and Michele smiled at each other.

The footsteps stopped briefly outside their door then they heard two of the couples move off down the corridor to their rooms but it was obvious there was someone outside the door.

"Once again Michele gets whatever the fuck she wants!" Polly bellowed drunkenly outside Michele's door.

"Well fuck you Barrack Room Betty! I've get the best looking bloke in the club in tow and I'm going to fuck him 'til he's exhausted," she screeched.

"Bella Miss Polly; let's go to the bedroom, my manhood desires your attention," a drunken heavily Italian accented voice implored.

"Come on Georgio; I need a shag!" Polly hiccupped, and their footsteps faded as they made their way to Polly's room.

Tony beamed.

"Ah! My friend Georgio! He is a good fellow and will take good care of your friend Polly," he grinned.

Michele raked her fingernails along Tony's torso as she lowered her face to his groin.

"Well I think it's time you took good care of me again," she whispered hoarsely.

She looked up and smiled at him and then lowered her face and took his manhood in her mouth.

To Be Continued...