The Unwilling Actress

by Bella Dietrich

  His head drew back and the muscles of his neck stood out in cords, and he fucked the spasms of creamy sperm deep inside her receptive womb that sought to suck the very life from him.

  "FUCK... FUCK... FUCK..." he screamed uncontrollably, his body carrying out the action of his words in a frantic effort to force his prick completely through her clenching, rigid body. This had to be the end of the whole damn world.

  Chapter Two

  It was late. The gibbous moon that shone through the diamond-paned window of the upstairs living room was glowing in the yellowish intensity of the hours leading into dawn. The moonlight flooded the big old-fashioned room. The faded chintz furniture and scarred old oak and walnut tables glowed with the light best suited to their antique charms.

  On the faded Aubusson carpet in the gilded light, Rosemary Clark lay naked and golden. Bullock held her shoulders and cradled her head to his bending one so he could kiss deeply into the fountain of her mouth. His hand traced tenderly down the twin peaks of her pointed brown-tipped breasts and over her valleyed belly to the dark forest between her legs which were splayed open for his delight.

  She twitched as his exploring finger touched the syrupy swollen surface of her opened pussy. Bullock could feel the shudders ripple through her again... and knew it was only a matter of time. He'd already had her right in her own bed a while ago, and it had been even better than he'd thought it would be. But seeing her in the moonlight of this room on their way back from the kitchen where they'd had grilled cheese sandwiches... he'd suddenly wanted her again as bad as before.

  The green silk robe she'd thrown on to make sandwiches lay pooled in a silken mass where he'd ripped it from her. His mouth still holding her moaning, he looked down the length of her beautiful body, and he could see her shiver visibly as his finger slurped a hot slippery course in and out of her cunt that was still wet with his own cum. He felt his cock spasm to a hardening erection. Jesus! She was a hot piece.

  She was the kind of piece he'd vowed he'd have when he'd been sunk up to his ass in a rice paddy with his heart pounding out of his chest as he strained for the telltale sound of a foot swishing in the grass. He'd made every whorehouse from Frisco to Dallas on his way home, but it wasn't quality ass. Rosemary was quality ass, and he was going to have all he wanted. When the nightmares came again at night and he'd wake up bathed in sweat at the sound of a twig scraping the window, he'd be able to calm himself just thinking about his own private piece who lived right upstairs.

  Rosemary tore her mouth away from Bullock with an effort of will. Her whole body was tingling again and she could feel her own juices flowing once more.

  "No... Bullock... no," she gasped. "Hilda and Celia could walk in... I don't know where they are... you've got to go..." She reached for the green silk robe with shaking fingers. What on earth had happened to her? She'd had a few affairs. It wasn't as if she were a child with no experience. But this sad-eyed, young-old man was tearing her apart. She didn't want to feel this much with anybody. She wanted her master's degree and independence... not a boy back from Vietnam with no prospects.

  "Put that damn thing down or I'll rip it off again," he ordered. His face closed to a hard gaunt mask before her eyes. All the sadness and sweetness had gone from his eyes and they glittered menacingly in the moonlight. He wasn't a boy any more. He was a man... a man capable of anything.

  "Bullock... please..." she whispered uncertainly.

  "I said... put it down!" She dropped the offending robe and searched his face for a clue as to how to placate him.

  "If you think I'm going to bundle this into my pants and trot along downstairs, you're crazy!" He rose to a kneeling position to wave the huge stick of his erect penis under her nose. She could see the veins standing out like snaking rivers of blood just under the surface of his enormous prick, and the blunted end oozed a drop of seminal fluid. She couldn't understand the incredible change that had happened to transform him from a loving, sensitive boy to a hard, vicious man within seconds.

  "It takes more than one roll in the hay to satisfy a man who's almost had it blown off, baby," he snarled. He caught the back of her head in his hand and shoved her lips within an inch of his beating prick. The terror in her face only increased the seething anger and hurt within him. He straddled her naked figure and knelt before her as though about to anoint her with his giant sword that poled out from his hairy loins in magnificent enormity.

  "Suck it for me!" he ordered... the words sending increased desire surging through his veins as he saw her soft mouth so close to the head.

  "It's madness," she whispered, her hands touching his forearms gently. "They'll surely be home and see us. We... we don't want to make public love... it's too... it's unthinkable..."

  "They're nowhere around. They won't be in for hours yet. Suck it, baby... now... or do I have to ram it down your throat!" He jerked her head till her lips touched the huge blunted head, guiding the hot pulsing shaft with his other hand.

  "Please... please... don't make me do it... like this," she pleaded, tears starting in her eyes as she wondered what terrible things he'd seen to make him like this now.

  "Now... suck it now!" he thundered, jerking her hair with his tangled fingers in the soft luxury that grew in such scented abundance.

  Rosemary opened her lips to accept the Cyclops-eyed head of Bullock's massive bloated cock. She closed her eyes to blot out the torture in his face and tried to remember the sweet sad-eyed but gaily laughing boy who'd wooed her and loved her so well only an hour or two ago. She felt the velvet-soft but rubbery-hard head slip into her open mouth and heard him groan aloud in what might have been agony.

  Bullock moaned at the incredible sweet sensation of his prick held in her soft lips. His face was a grotesque mask of enraged, sadistic lust as he watched the subservient loveliness of the awe-stricken Rosemary extend trembling hands to cup his balls as her mouth gingerly ovaled around the head of his prick. Her eyes were closed, but he could see a tear trickle slowly down one cheek and leave a glinting trail. The actual feel of his hot hard prick and balls being caressed by her white hands and the end of it actually inside her warm mouth against her will was inciting unbelievable lightning flashes of carnality to race through him, blinding him to everything but the chastising degradation he was forcing on her.

  Rosemary couldn't understand the jumble of emotions that were tangled in her heaving breast. What had she done to make him so angry... why would he risk being seen like this by the other two girls... why had he closed himself so violently to her... why was she submitting to him like this in fear and trembling...? She didn't really know the answers to anything that had happened in the last few seconds.

  Her cobwebbed brain seemingly would not function. She clung to one thought. Get it over and get him out of here. If she hurried, perhaps the others wouldn't arrive. Oh God. They mustn't! What would they think? What would they report to Esther Peabody? She could be kicked out of this good flat. It might even affect her degree. Certainly it would affect her job as a teacher. Frantically her hands began to stroke the stalk of his rigid penis, and her mouth tightened and her tongue swirled around the head in a feverish motion.

  Web sat with his arm around Celia in the snug darkness of the car. There were still some lights on in the big old Victorian house, but they shone dimly as though they might be night lights.

  "I guess I'm afraid to go in," Celia said.

  "There's nothing to be afraid of, baby."

  She looked up at him, and he could see the wide pools of her eyes darkened in the dimness. He could feel her shiver a little despite the cardigan around her shoulders and his arm holding her close against him.

  "If my folks ever found out..."

  "How are they going to find out?" he asked impatiently. "Don't be such a ninny. You're living in the twentieth century. People don't have the hangups about sex they used to."

  Celia listened to his words and tried to believe them, but she knew he
r parents. Web didn't. And she knew herself. She knew she'd taken a road tonight that might head her far away from the life she'd planned for. Tonight with Web had been incredible and wonderful, but he hadn't said a word about marriage as she'd expected him to. In Waxahachie, Texas, a girl might slip and lose her virginity to a man, but it was unthinkable that he wouldn't even offer to marry her. It hurt terribly that he hadn't and the crushing load of guilt was choking the life out of her now.

  Her body felt used and abused... her breasts tender and sore, her vulva raw and her insides swollen and tender. She felt cheap and vulgar and common, and she couldn't ever remember feeling like that before. All the terrible predictions of her father were coming true.

  She laughed harshly and bitterly, "I guess I still have hangups, as you call them."

  "You're just tired, baby. Let's get you inside. You get a good night's sleep, and you'll be fine tomorrow." Web urged her out of the car. The sound of their footsteps on the walkway sounded like those of giants in her ears. In the semidarkness of the veranda she dug her key out of her purse, glancing fearfully at the other entry door that led to the downstairs flat of the boys.

  Finally they were inside the wide private entry hall with the stairway that led to the top floor. She leaned against Web wearily as they climbed silently up the carpeted stairs. On the landing he turned her and kissed her swiftly.

  Web patted her comfortingly and was about to turn to leave when he froze in his tracks, his hands biting into her arms. The living, room door was open, and in the bright moonlight were two naked people-a dark-haired girl who looked as though she might be Rosemary Clark and the G.I. back from Vietnam. She was giving him the best blow job Web had seen in a long time. Christ! She was really going at it!

  Celia caught her breath in a little gasp when she saw what had stopped Web so abruptly in his tracks. Rosemary was sitting naked on the carpet! And Bullock! He was naked too... and shoving his huge erect penis in her mouth! Oh God... what were they doing? Celia clapped her fingers over her open mouth to keep from crying out... and reached out one hand blindly to steady herself against the door frame. Gratefully she felt Web's arms close around her to steady her. The feel of his strong chest against her back and his arms around her waist was reassuring.

  She knew they should leave... go... and leave Rosemary and Bullock to whatever animalistic, depraved thing they were doing, but she felt rooted to the spot. Rosemary was such a nice girl! There'd never been any indication that she had ever had even... well... sexual experience of any kind. Certainly not this depraved, bestial, terrible... it was too awful.

  Celia watched in trancelike fascination. She could see Bullock kneeling astride Rosemary's naked seated body, his hand tangled in her dark hair as he guided her mouth over his great bull-like cock that fucked in a wet sound into her lovely mouth. Rosemary's hands cradled his testicles, and she was fondling them and squeezing them as though they were precious and valuable. Celia could see the huge wet bridge of Bullock's mammoth penis slide out of Rosemary's obviously eager mouth and then dagger home again as he groaned and ground his pelvis. It looked as though it must choke her to death, for when he sent it plunging into her mouth, it went in almost up to his thick patch of pubic hair.

  Web held her tightly against him, holding his breath. Celia was so full of guilt and remorse herself she might do something ridiculous. He could feel his own prick hardening just watching the really great blow job Rosemary was doing on Bullock. Jesus! That girl knew how to suck cock! Her cheeks were bloated with the great throbbing fleshy pole of Bullock's prod, and she was exerting all the pressure of her obviously experienced lips and tongue, for that lucky guy was groaning and moaning like a happy maniac. Web felt a deep twinge in his own gut and balls, just from watching. His hand crept up to close on the firmly soft half-melon of Celia's breast... and the twinge deepened and his other hand held her even closer against him, straying down to catch her sharp little hip bone. He wanted her again just as bad as before. The sight of the two naked lovers across the huge room like actors in a pornographic movie had ignited his own powerful lust once more. Just like a movie, he thought, for he could hear the hi-fi playing softly in the background.

  Her head was whirling and aching a little. Celia remembered the champagne and wondered if she'd had too much, but somehow it wouldn't matter... not with this incredible scene before her eyes. Was this what normal people did? She'd always believed that only what she and Web had done tonight was normal... and only really right in wedlock. But this... this was worse than dogs sniffing and rooting at their mates' genitals. Rosemary was trying to swallow his gigantic prick clear down her throat. She acted as though she were enjoying it... as though it were good!

  Celia felt Web's hand close over her breast, and she stiffened and caught her breath. Though the naked couple were too engrossed probably to make out who was in the dim doorway, Celia couldn't believe that Web would think of anything like that while watching the debased performance. Was he stimulated by their gross, obscene behavior? Celia pulled at his hand, horrified by his callousness. Oh... if only she could wipe out this terrible night... erase it from her experience as though it had never happened. His hand only closed tighter over her bursting breast, and that breast had the audacity to swell and the nipple popped hotly into erection in his blazing palm. How could her own body keep betraying her like this? She could even feel the moisture starting again between her legs. Tears of shame and anger began in her eyes. Daddy was right. He was right. She was a whore!

  Web slid his hand down Celia's flat belly to the mons pubis and cupped his hand over her tender genitals. Even through her clothes he could feel her nipple hard and excited in his hand. She was crying again and trying to get away. He knew damn well now that she'd never seen anything like the scene being played across the big room before. Well, time she did.

  Watching Rosemary eating Bullock's cock with such feeling, Web knew he wanted his own turgid, reacting prick sunk deep in Celia's lovely cheeks. If not tonight, then some other time, but if she saw it here he'd have an easier time with her later.

  He pinched her nipples to hard pointed tips of desire, his finger finding the groove of her slit through her clothes and beginning to rock there like a buoy. His pants were containing his newly attentive rod that shoved against Celia's buttocks like a thick sickle and vibrated with the pulse of hot blood pumping it to roaring life again.

  Celia tried to will her eyes away from the revolting pagan evil scene and, breathing hard, she tried to forcibly galvanize her own muscles into moving away from the rock-hard grip of Web's arms and the titillating temptations of his hands that played over her in such tentacled abundance. His mouth was burning "O's" over her throat as his tongue stabbed and flicked flames of searing delight along her soft white tender skin above her blouse. She could feel his penis in rigid pulsing enormity pressing into her buttocks and realized dimly that it had been beating its subliminal message against her for some time.

  Rosemary slid her mouth to the very end of Bullock's thick pulsating prick and sucked hard to get the drops of seminal juice from the tiny orifice. He tasted male and musky and tangy with desire. She slid her tongue then along the full bloated trunk of his massive rocky flesh pole, licking the entire length, the vein-laced hot surface from bulbous head to thick base buried in springy hair. Her hands took over from her tongue as she bent her head even lower to lick the pendulous sac of his swollen balls until his entire genitals were slickly wet with her saliva. She could feel his branding hands singe her naked flesh, throat and shoulders and breasts and sides. The silky tingling in her own pussy was increasing every second with her oral manipulations of his powerful maledom. Fitfully she ground her thighs together as she sat between his knees on the faded carpet.

  "Gooooodddddd!" he gritted between clenched teeth. His anger and hurt had evaporated with the skillful sucking of his long granite prod. It was only that split second when she'd tried to reject him, he'd gone crazy, crazy mad, and the
jungle and the terror had been all round him. But it was all right. Oh, God, it was all right. She wanted him. She really wanted him. She was sucking him like he was ambrosia and she was never going to get her fill. But he'd fill her. The load was increasing every second and building to an enormous pressure that made his balls ache all the way up in his belly. He was going to shoot that stream of cum down her beautiful throat and she was going to swallow it all right down into her belly.

  She was so beautiful in the moonlight that he almost toppled her back to shove his powerful cock into her seeping cunt, but he couldn't tear himself away from her sucking, tonguing, licking mouth that knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He didn't let himself think about when she'd learned and from whom. Bullock Brand only knew she was an artist in blow jobs and he liked only the finer things of life and by God was going to have all he could before he died.