Amy Ch. 19

Three weeks later on a Saturday, the cast was readying for the road opening of West Side Story in Washington, D.C. just four days away.

The girls were taking a break and as usual Elsie, always the actress, was regaling Amy and Linda with the latest on her latest boyfriend.

"We're done," she said flatly. "I told Lorraine that he asked for her number. I just wasn't psyched to assist this match, but the only thing more pathetic than girls mooning over uninterested guys are girls who sabotage other girls, even annoying ones, as part of some futile intra-sex competition. As usual, Lorraine spent several minutes obsessing over tan lines and diet. She's bowstring-thin with auburn highlights — and don't remind me Linda, I know Grady has this redhead fixation, but she's no Firecrotch. This is a girl whose last boyfriend told me she wouldn't scratch or massage his back because it would ruin her manicure. So let Grady have her and her listless leg-spreading."

She threw her hands in the air to emphasize her next line. "Elsie's sloppy seconds? Hmm, I don't know if I like his nose," Lorraine said. "Which kills me because I love his nose and can think of plenty of places for it."

She sighed adding to her little drama. "But I left Grady's number with Lorraine before hanging up; fuck it, the bimbo can call him if she realizes her awesome luck.

Elsie looked directly at her two friends before continuing. "Anyway, I've hooked up with Mel again."

Linda caught Amy's eye and arched an eyebrow. Amy stifled a giggle, truly enjoying her moment with the two women.

Elsie went on. "Would you believe . . . I don't know why I didn't tell you this sooner, Linda, but Mel called from Club Med last Tuesday!"

Linda nudged Amy in the ribs with her elbow, as if to clue Amy in on Elsie's next line.

"I wanted to hear your voice," he said — and to make plans for Friday the day after I return." The shit reduced me to useless puddle of sap. I veered from toe-curling sex fantasies to sugary mental pix of couple-hood and back again for several hours."

Linda was impressed: "You had what? One date and he's asking you out from his Club Med vacation in the Caribbean?"

Elsie beamed at the two of them. "Yeah!" she exclaimed and smacked her lips.

"Jesus, Elsie," Linda said sarcastically, "If Mel had any more nerve; he could give my clitoris a run for its money."

Elsie ignored the remark and continued on with her tale of the day. "So there I am, all buoyed up on Thursday 'cause we're gonna meet in like in less than 24 hours, ya know?"

"I'm feeling minimal pain when I practically mowed Grady down in the corridor. He began yapping about Lorraine again. So I bluntly informed him I'd already given Lorraine his number, told him the ball's in her court. Grady tried to conceal his telltale face-fall and asked if I wanted to grab a latte somewhere. Told him I was on my way to meet a guy for dinner (never mind that it was my dad). I've no use for Lorraine's "sloppy seconds," to borrow the charming girl's phrase. Let Grady find some other consolation thighs."

"Ya know," Elsie opined reflectively, "I should really focus on my lines for today, but I just left Mel, who by the way, is cooked to a crisp from the Caribbean sun. So I'm decompressing. Last night he accompanied me to a photo exhibit I was dying to see, which scored major points because he's no culture-vulture and simply wanted to make me happy. There was one mortifying moment, though: There we were, standing before a black-and-white, bird's-eye-view nude photo of the artist's lover, her face and breasts and tummy emerging proudly from the shadowy bedsheets. Mel's behind me, his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck, when he remarked, at full volume: "She's not that hot."

"Christ, he wasn't even being ironic — he was dead serious! Everyone, including the gallery owner, shot us a look like we were beyond contempt, and I don't blame them. I mean, he probably thinks the Mona Lisa has a dingy complexion. I know I sound like I'm unfairly harsh on the guy, but the incident underscored how disturbingly hung up on appearances he is. I mean, before that we watched the roller blader's in the park, and Mel kept pointing out how this one had PMS -- premature mammary sag -- or how that one was packing the spandex with too much gut. He finally became so obnoxious that I told him I hoped he wasn't spending this much energy secretly denouncing my flaws. He said I had nothing to worry about, because I'm as serious a gym rat as he is. Glad he wasn't around a few years ago when I had my bout of exercise bulimia — his comments would've really cranked up my craziness."

"Anyway, after the gallery, we go to Mel's place, and while we're fooling around shirtless, Mel interrupts the proceedings to ask if I think he's gotten more ripped over the past few weeks. I told him I hadn't noticed, and when I explained that I didn't feel ready to let things go any further tonight, he immediately hopped up to mix himself a protein drink. Oh, yeah, guy — if I'm not going for the mattress-springing, it must be because your lats can't cut glass yet!"

Amy was sure Elsie had more to offer, but the choreographer waved them back with the other dancers and had them all run through their paces three times in rapid succession.

Amy, having finished her segment, wondered if they were feeling a time crunch here. Linda sauntered over to stand alongside Amy as the others number wound down.

"I swear I'm gonna need oxygen after this number if we do it one more time."

"Tell me about it," Amy offered, by now feeling accepted by everyone in the cast. Although she suspected there were several cast members who didn't like her one iota. Amy readily accepted that as part of being in the "Biz," as she was wont to say these days. She had found she had time and help from various members of the production team as well as the director to explore the inner dynamics and relationships between the characters. But the writing was so good that most of Amy's scenes didn't require that much work in order for them to be effective. But she worked through them just the same, sometimes finding it a little tedious; but more often finishing the day with a feeling of exhilaration at improving her performance level another notch.

The entire cast was now working at a collective rhythm. Amy found it a little odd, but very reassuring. She had learned from Anna, who had proven to be a sensational Maria; that sometimes that moment never materializes, and having attained it augured well for the musical when it opened.

*****

Amy arrived back at John's apartment hopeful that he would be there waiting for her. He had been out of town for several days and she missed him terribly. She was especially horny for it had been four nights without having had him enter her.

Eve was also out of town, visiting her grandmother, who worked as a maid in Cleveland, Ohio.

The doorman greeted Amy as was his custom, but this day he had a wider smile than usual as he said, "Evening, Miss Prentice," followed by a whispered, "Ya didn't hear it from me, but Mr. Prentice is upstairs. He arrived an hour ago."

"Thank you! Elliott," she cried out joyfully and hugged him. Elliott watched as Amy took the elevator to her floor and then hastily made his way to the men's room in the lobby to masturbate while he could still feel the imprint of her breasts on his chest.

*****

"It's not fair John," Amy whispered contritely. "I've had three great climaxes since dinner . . . four if you count that horrible thing you did to me in the shower, and you've only had one. Tell me something I can do for you," she grinned wickedly and added, "My master."

"You should have more orgasms than me," John Prentice whispered back, "girls are designed that way. Guys are lucky to have two orgasms a day, maybe three. But girls can have multiple orgasms; they can keep coming until they cannot stand another."

"Really?" she said, surprised. "I've heard girls talk about multiple orgasms, but other than feeling absolutely wonderful, I didn't think more than three was possible."

"How many did you just have?" John inquired, already secure in the knowledge that it was probably four or more."

"Umm," Amy pretended to count them on her fingers, then went on to count her toes. Her giggles told him she was teasing.

"Come on, how many?" He prodded her with a finger to the ribs.

"Ow! Don't, that hurts!" She blurted like a child might.

"Answer me, come on, how many?"

"Four! At least I think it was four, could it have been more?"

"I don't know," John replied, "You're the one having them, shouldn't you be counting? Or at least have an idea?"

"Okay, it was four," she giggled, and gave him her winningest smile.

"But I seem to have an easy time coming with you," Amy sighed, snuggling closer to him.

"That's because you're my love slave. You'd be punished if you didn't come for me," he joked. "Seriously, though, you come pretty easily for somebody with so little experience."

"Well, might that be because you make me feel so nasty and ever so sexy?" Amy purred, contentedly. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "That was a very bad thing you did to me in the shower."

"You mean when I pushed my finger up your butt?" John could sense Amy blushing in the darken bedroom.

"Umm, you know, I can't believe I let you do that to me!"

"You didn't let me do it. You're my love slave, remember?"

"Oh yes, I seem to remember taking that oath of servitude, but I didn't sign anything and my agent told me that if it's not signed . . ." Amy made reference to the agent that John had introduced her to only the day before.

John shut her up with a kiss that grew in its intensity and it lasted quite a while.

Amy was smoldering when it ended and knew it had affected John the same way, for his appendage was growing ever larger against her thigh.

Her voice was dry with a thirst for sex. "I should be doing something to make you feel as wonderful as I feel," she said firmly and then took his finger and placed it between her fully ripened lips.

John groaned with the knowledge that Amy was rapidly headed for a meeting with several of his 'other' friends.

She moaned softly as she slid his finger quickly in and out of her mouth, reveling in the very texture of his flesh; sucking lightly, covering his digit with her saliva. Every third or fourth stroke Amy halted for a moment to lick the end of his finger in a circular motion.

Unbeknownst to Amy, John's free hand was moving in another direction, a downward direction until his fingers became enmeshed in the still dampened tuft of hair just above her pussy. That brought a pleasurable moan to Amy's lips and she lightly bit his finger, certain it would cause him no pain.

Playfully retaliating, he pulled his finger through a snag of tangled pubic hair causing Amy to moan a little louder and then hiss with pleasure as the finger slowly slipped inside her feathery-soft, juicy cunt. He worked the finger around her inner folds, gathering enough juice to make his finger slippery and then spread the moisture up the shallow groove of her pussy toward her clit. John settled into a steady rhythm, sliding his wet finger up and down her furrow; rubbing her pink clit ever so lightly with each passage.

Amy gasped and looked down between them. She gave a low moan as she watched his fingers disappear into the folds of her pussy, and then slowly reappear in the dim light. Her free hand reached down and grasped his arm, but she didn't try to stop his hand from moving back and forth, back and forth.

His finger dropped from her mouth, for Amy's jaw had fallen open as she entered a sexual stupor of sorts. She knew well enough where she was, but didn't know how she had lost her sexual advantage over him. She had been so sure that he would be candy in her hands when the idea of sucking his finger crossed her mind. True, Amy was only eighteen, now and a young eighteen at that, but still, she had always been able to control her men . . . until John.

Amy squirmed slightly and moaned, "No, John!" she hissed with an urgency that surprised him. "It's not my TURN AGAIN!"

He reached out and took her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Amy writhed with the pleasure that soared through her body.

After she finished moaning again, John whispered to her, "I say it IS your turn!" Amy whimpered, closed her eyes, capitulating with his desire to bring her to yet another orgasm by leaning slowly forward until her forehead was resting on his shoulder; one hand on each of his knees.

He continued to finger her and a few short minutes later, Amy was laboring to capture sufficient air in her lungs to keep from blacking out. The pleasure was unbelievably good. John felt Amy was about to crest; for her breathing was labored, her breaths harsh and deep; and her hands still had his knees in a death grip.

He added two more fingers and felt her shudder. He plunged them into her furiously and the moments later the wave struck and Amy began grunting through her most powerful orgasm to date. Her hips were thrusting wildly and she turned her head and bit him hard on the neck. John straightened and grabbed a handful of her hair and, pulling her mouth away from him, looked down into her face – now twisted with a shameless pleasure. He kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth where it battled with her own eager, searching tongue as her orgasm continued to overwhelm her senses.

Moments later Amy broke the kiss to gasp desperately for air and brought her arms up, hugging John tightly around the neck. Within a minute her moans of pleasure began to subside and she laid her head on his shoulder; her breathing sounding harsh in his ear. John's hand still cupped her sex; pressing softly, making only the tiniest of motions. After awhile, he fell back slowly, pulling Amy on top of him, and removed his hand from her warm, wet pussy. She looked down into his eyes.

"Please fuck me, John!" she pleaded, "I need you inside me NOW!"

John rolled on top of her and, lifting his upper body, reached between them for his manhood, now thick and throbbing. Amy spread her legs wide and instinctively tilted her hips up. He wet the head of his cock by rubbing it up and down her dripping slit, then fitted it into the mouth of her vagina.

"NOW!" she insisted, and he drove his entire weight down, spearing her to the hilt in one motion.

"Ughhhhh!" she grunted at the forceful impact.

Then it was his turn to groan as the slick warmth of her pussy encased his rampant prick.

Slowly he withdrew until just the head of his cock was inside her, then he dropped his weight again, impaling her; then slowly withdrew and did it again. Amy held her breath each time he made the slow withdrawal, then grunted as his 'beautiful cock' as she thought of it -- split open her sensitive inner walls and the base of his cock pressed down on her straining clit. Amy began rocking her hips up to meet his assault, her hands locked on his upper arms.

John paused, but only to pull Amy's legs up until her calves rested on his shoulders. The tilting of her body in this manner enabled him to attain an even deeper penetration, once this was accomplished he doubled the speed of his thrusts.

The feel of his urgent cock filling her then, pushing in to where pleasure is nearly pain, and soon she was uttering a high, "OH!" each time his hips thumped home against her crotch.

"OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!" she cried, staring up at him wide-eyed.

"Oh, I'm going to COME! She thought and wailed helplessly.

And finally she was arching up towards him, her hips thrusting, her eyes closed, her head thrown back. He could see her full breasts jerk slightly each time he drove into her. Amy's pussy seemed to squeeze his cock and the extra friction coupled with the excitement of watching her come brought him to the brink. His thrusts became even faster as he soared over the edge and began to burst inside her.

"Come on baby!"

"Come in me baby!" She moaned coaxing him on.

Then Amy felt the change as his instrument of love suddenly swelled to even greater proportions and heard him cry out as his seed flowed into her pussy.

Her eyes opened and she began rolling her hips up to meet his. Suddenly Amy felt her release coming and finally the explosion that she felt the length of her body; in her brain, in her bones and veins, no boundaries, no borders right then between the two of them as lifted her to those heights from which she never wanted to leave, but did . . . eventually.

"That's right sweetie. Fill me up!" she moaned, her voice a strained whisper as he collapsed forward onto her with a final cry; his hips still thrusting, although very weakly at this point.

Amy wrapped her arms and legs around him, soothing and caressing him with her hands; whispering in his ear. And he could feel her pussy lightly squeezing around his spent penis.

They lay that way for a long time, resting in an idyllic state. John finally rolled over so they were side by side, arms and legs still tangled, and they fell asleep.

***

The very next day Amy couldn't wait to tell Linda and Elsie about her torrid love-making of the night before.

"He felt like velvet in my mouth," she gushed; and both Linda and Elsie grew wet between the legs so enraptured was Amy in the retelling of what had transpired.

"He kissed me raw for about a half hour and I couldn't take anymore; he loved me until my hair was matted and my body dripping with sweat."

"My God, Amy!" Elsie said, astonished that this young girl had had so many orgasms in one night and with one guy. "And it was, like just him? Not two or three guys taking turns?"

"Elsie!" Linda shouted and then realized that she was calling everyone's attention to them. "I'm sorry Amy," she said, now whispering. "She shouldn't have been so damn boisterous about it, ya know/'

"It's okay, I don't mind. I feel so well fucked that I want the world to know so they can envy me."

"Well I for one envy the hell out of you," the cute blonde said.

"I can see that," Amy giggled and pointed to Linda's protruding nipples.

Elsie joined in the giggling, then said, "Seriously, since we're telling stuff out of school here, why not tell Amy 'bout that time with Jeffie?"

"Ya think?" Linda replied, arching her eyebrows.

"We got maybe twenty minutes left before the next part of rehearsal. Go on, tell her. If you forget something, I'll fill in for ya."

"Jeffie?" Amy mouthed to the girls.

"Yeah," Elsie said, Jeffie, Jeff, what's the difference?"

Linda jumped in with, "He's a guy we both worked with a couple years ago when we spent half our time auditioning and the other half waiting tables at Marvin's Grille, on 8th Avenue."

"Anyway," Elsie said, picking up the conversation, "Jeffie, Linda and me were having a couple of Apple Martini's at Marvin's after he'd closed for the night. I mean Jeffie closed the place up. There was no actual Marvin that I know of, you ever hear tell of him?" She said, tossing the ball to Linda.

"No, I think it was just a name the original owner picked when the place opened back in the early forties."

"Anyway," Elsie said, resuming her discourse, "we're all half smashed and feeling good. At least I know I was," she glanced at Linda, who nodded and said, "Me too, go on."

"So someone mentioned the infamous "G" Spot, I don't recall if it was you Linda, or Jeffie. Does it matter?"

"Nope," Linda said. "But you took exception to the remark as I recall."

"Did I ever," Elsie said and her eyes flashed with anger as she no doubt recalled the night in question.

"And Jeffie laughed at you. Really pissed you off," Linda said and smiled at Amy.

'Yeah, well I figured he was hittin' on me, ya know?" Elsie said. "I mean I'd had a couple of apples and I was no virgin, even way back then," she winked at Amy and that drew a knowing smile in return.