by Curt Aldrich
Receiving a sudden inspiration, Peter bent forward and took off his shoes.
“Stand up for a second,” he whispered to Marilyn.
“Why?” Marilyn asked, standing.
Peter placed one of his shoes on the sofa where she had been sitting, then said, “Now sit on that.”
Boy, he's drunker than I thought, Marilyn figured. Giggling, though—enjoying Peter's vaguely naughty foolishness—she did as he directed.
The title of the movie had dissolved and been replaced by a scene of a neatly dressed, brawny man sitting beside a lovely, fearful-looking, miniskirted young girl on a sofa not unlike those in the common room. The man had draped an arm over the girl's shoulders and let his hand rest lightly down over her breast, and the girl sat tensely, her thighs squeezed together, obviously afraid of what he intended to do and yet even more afraid to anger him by struggling.
“What kind of movie is this?” Marilyn asked softly, squirming on the shoe beside Peter.
“It's a honeymoon movie,” Peter answered. “It's all about sex.”
Marilyn giggled again, and said, “Oh, you're awful.”
He was funny and nice and everything, but he sure was shameless in the things he said.
Her eyes intent on the screen, Marilyn gasped with shock all of a sudden. The brawny man had pulled the girl in the miniskirt tightly against him, and now he was plunging his hand into her blouse to feel over one of her breasts with skin-to-skin sensuality. And the poor, humiliated girl enjoyed it despite herself when he began dragging his fingers over her hardening nipple.
Then the man smashed his lips against hers, and she struggled automatically but vainly to get away.
Marilyn certainly had never seen a movie like this one. It was disgusting—but exciting even so, she had to admit.
Her face reddened as she realized she was pushing her loins down against the heel of the shoe she was sitting on, which lay on its side. Her respiration speeded up; she couldn't stop what she was doing.
She reached to the floor for the strong, tall drink she'd brought along from the bar, and she downed a large gulp of it. She needed something to calm her, she knew, and the drink was the only thing handy.
Boy, she was growing terribly excited! She ground down on the edge of the shoe heel harder and harder, wedging the folds of her thin, billowy dress and the band of her underpants into her slit. She moved her slit to and fro against the heel edge, then modified her tactics when she felt the hard rubber point of the front of the heel edge poking into her through her clothing. Gritting her teeth, she began to fuck herself with that point.
Her loins and the crotch of her underpants were growing damp and sticky, a fact that made her blush when she thought about it. Also, her clitoris was becoming strongly erect, almost painfully so. But what could she do? What she was doing was too enjoyable to stop.
She settled back against Peter's arm, feeling strangely protected by him. She didn't even mind when he stole his hand down to cup her breast. In fact, she scarcely noticed the action, so caught up was she by her own wanton actions.
Anyway, there's nothing wrong with being close friends, she told herself uncertainly, continuing to fuck her sopping cunt rhythmically down over the rubber edge.
Her eyes were still glued to the screen, and she let out a little squeal of surprise when she saw the girl suddenly go lax against her tormentor and screw her tongue into his mouth in a rush of passionate abandon while he massaged her breast more strongly than ever. The girl was squeezing her thighs together again in a barely conscious attempt to smother the fires burning hotter and hotter in her pussy, but it was plain to Marilyn that that method had little hope of success.
The man began pinching her nipple almost viciously, making the girl squirm all the more lustfully against him. And his tongue engaged hers in battle, stoking her fires even more.
Driven by his own desire, the man yanked her off balance to get her to sprawl out on the sofa, and he immediately joined her in the horizontal position. Sweeping his free hand down to the trim, firm mounds of her bottom, he dug in with his fingers and made her pelvic bone push against his through their clothes. He began to stroke and knead the solid little cheeks, and as he ground his midsection against hers, with his tongue still juicily toying with hers, his cock grew achingly erect, its head prodding against her loins.
He moved his hand down from her breast to her stomach, and he started pulling up her dress, baring her thighs then the white of her underpants.
Soon he was slipping his-fingers in under the waistband of her panties.
The girl wriggled from excitement as well as fear as a solitary fingertip squished into her slit and located the mouth of her vagina.
The man slowly forced the finger into her wet red hole, and at the same time he began frigging her swollen clitoris with the other fingers of his hand.
The girl's crotch as well as her inner thighs were sloppy-wet. She was excruciatingly horny, and she couldn't keep from thrusting in time with the movements of the man's fingers at her loins.
Marilyn let out a high-pitched squeal of pleasure as Peter redoubled the lascivious efforts of his hand on her breast.
She wanted to flee, to run from the shamefulness of what she was permitting Peter to do. She knew it was wrong of her to let him, but tried to persuade herself that it wasn't. But the pleasure was so strong, she couldn't put a stop to it.
Not yet. Not yet. If she only let him mess with her breast, that couldn't be too wrong.
She almost jumped out of her seat when she saw the man on the screen suddenly stand up and begin taking off his clothes.
“Golly,” she rasped softly, only moments later, when the man stood naked, with his huge, mean-looking erection jutting out in lewd prominence, its purple glans slimy with juices.
Gazing down at the girl still sprawled on the sofa, the man wrapped his hand around his heavy, lengthy shaft and began exercising the thick column of flesh, stripping and unstripping its massive head of the taut-stretched folds of his foreskin.
The girl tried not to look at the throbbing shaft, but she couldn't keep her eyes off its magnificent length.
The man knelt before her and jammed his wet lips down against hers, darting his tongue deep into her mouth. Keeping his lips against hers, he used his hands to coax her into standing up as he stood again.
A flush of embarrassment made the girl close her eyes as she felt the man beginning to unfasten the buttons of her sheer yellow blouse. Soon the blouse lay at her feet, and her flimsy bra quickly followed, leaving her small, solidly packed breasts boldly exposed.
The man knelt at her feet and relieved her of her skirt, tossing it onto the other two garments; then he slowly rolled her underpants off her body, his eyes wide and penetrating as he watched the progress of the baring of her juicy, hairy loins.
The girl cowered before him in complete nakedness, with her muscular, ruthless tormentor still on his knees, his face near her stomach. She appeared to be made dizzy by her humiliation, and her sense of humiliation grew even stronger when she felt the man's lips pressing suddenly against the plump young mound of her cunt.
The man left a trail of bubbly saliva through her pubic hair as he mouthed his way down to the thickened lips of her pussy. Immersing his thumbs in the creamy red tissues of her slit, he pried the lips grossly far apart and stabbed his tongue into the lovely, tremulous groove.
The girl shook all over due to the abrupt and shattering invasion of her private parts. She felt the tip of the man's tongue lashing against her palpitating clitoris, and she sucked in her breath and tumbled backward onto the sofa, with one of her legs trailing to the floor.
“Boy, what a dirty movie!” Marilyn exclaimed. “Is he really going to... going to... right on the screen and everything?”
Peter grinned at her, but he made no reply. He enjoyed seeing her “suffer” in suspense.
The thought of what was going on on the screen, and what had already gone on made Marilyn breathe
rapidly and jerkily. She nursed down the rest of her drink in quick gulps; then she sighed deeply as she felt a shudder running up and down her spine.
She wished she had the fortitude to tell Peter to stop playing with her breast, but she couldn't seem to force the necessary words up and out of her throat. She didn't even have enough strength of will to stop him from slipping his hand down inside the front of her dress and snaking his fingers into the one cup of her bra.
“Ooh... Peter...” she groaned.
He was squeezing and frigging her nipple as freely as if he had a right to be doing so, making the sweet bud grow ever more fiercely erect and swollen.
She knew the whole front of her underpants was soggy and smelled of her juices, but she couldn't control herself. She resumed sliding the inner flesh of her achingly inflamed cunt along the edges of the shoe heel.
Oh, what's wrong with me? she asked herself frantically, trying desperately to still her rhythmically pumping hips. The movie's shameful and horrible, but I just can't keep from watching it...
The man on the screen had all but thrown himself onto his succulent prey. His palms were pushing against her inner thighs, forcing her thighs almost obscenely far apart, and now he leered at her stricken face, knowing her conquest, physical as well as moral, was essentially all but complete.
He moved his thumbs to the fleshy, hair-lined lips of her vulva and again dragged them far apart. His eyes burned into the slimy, tingling core of her slit for a long, silent moment of admiration; then he slammed the lower part of his face against her crotch and unceremoniously screwed his tongue into her cunt.
Her bottom twisting and bucking in response to his thoroughgoing tongue-pumping, she jerked her head up and stared between her breasts at his nose smashed against her raw-looking clitoris.
The man sent his hand skidding over her stomach to her tender mounds. He abused her nipples with relentless savagery, his tongue still screwing her quaking twat throat.
As soon as the girl appeared to have resigned herself to his harsh fingering and pinching of her nipples, the man whipped his hands down all the way to her knees. Gripping her knees at their backs, he forced her to fold her legs and suffer the indignity of having them pushed over and down against her torso, so that the meaty, hairy wonder of her crotch was offered up to him like a king's meal.
He slurped his tongue out of her cunt and licked down to the tight elastic pucker of her anus.
The girl's face went pale. She looked as if she were on the verge of fainting from shame.
She flailed her ass to evict his tongue from her rectum, and when she was successful he punished her by plunging a single, thick middle finger into her back passage to the hilt.
And he flicked his tongue back across her perineum and began licking up her copious juices as if her cunt were a dish of milk and he were a famished tomcat.
The girl's body squirmed and writhed under the incessant provocation of the man's tongue, her state of arousal mushrooming at a punishing speed. She gripped her thighs behind her knees and forced them farther and farther apart, and heavy spills of saliva began flowing from the corners of her mouth.
She looked as if she were going mad. The man was jabbing his tongue deeper and deeper into her sucking hole, pumping her up unbearably.
But still the man fucked her with his tongue, on and on.
Then, all of a sudden, he drew his tongue out of her and sat up at her upthrust buttocks. Hunkering down over her, he bit into one of her nipples for a moment; then he slobbered all over her breasts as he ran his palms up and down her thighs.
“How was that for a suck job?” Peter asked Marilyn.
“Peter! The way you talk...”
Peter chuckled and looked back at the screen.
The girl had spread her thighs to the widest possible extent, and the man had moved forward over her and placed his palms flat on the cushion at each side of her head in preparation for fucking her. Now he nosed the head of his cock into the heart of her red slit.
The girl's face was drawn and pale, yet it showed an intense hunger that was far stronger than her fear.
“It really is going to be shown,” Marilyn whispered to herself, awed by her realization that such indecent movies existed.
She was breathing more rapidly than ever, and she sensed a growing, pulsing knot of concentrated need tormenting the tingling nerve ends at the base of her stomach. There was a kind of urgency in her, she knew, a rushing toward some ultimate moment that she was afraid to think about; yet she continued ceaselessly working the swollen flesh of her slit against the edge of the shoe heel as she kept watching the movie with feverish concentration.
But it was still all right. It had to be all right. She couldn't be betraying her new husband; she wasn't the type of girl to do such a thing. She was just watching a movie that she knew she shouldn't be watching—but still just watching a movie—and letting Peter go maybe just a little... just a little...
“Oh, he's doing it to her... Peter...” she husked.
The man on the screen had started forcing his erection into the girl's cunt, his eyes burning lecherously into hers as he slowly, steadily penetrated her.
Suddenly he let himself collapse onto her, the lower part of his chest flattening her breasts under him. Thrusting with his hips, he plunged his cock all at once deep into her, his heavy testicles slamming against her anus and the cringing flesh surrounding the tiny, slick porthole.
Marilyn squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, shivering with fear for the girl.
Her eyes shot open abruptly almost as soon as she had shut them, for Peter angled toward her, pressing even more firmly against her, and immediately set his free hand on the bare skin of her thigh just above her knee.
“You're a lovely girl, Marilyn,” he whispered in a deep, somehow ominous voice.
Pressing his advantage while Marilyn was still too startled to exert any opposition, he began forcing the hem of her dress, along with the bunching folds traveling before it, up toward her stomach.
“No!” Marilyn yelped in a barely restrained voice.
She grabbed hold of his hand and pushed it back down her thigh, the hem of her dress retreating along with it.
Peter had expected her to roll back the advance made in his first attack; he could tell she was the type who felt bound to come on demure as a matter of good form. But he proved he wasn't going to be put off the track by any hard-to-get nonsense: he countered her defensive tactic by simply plunging his hand right into her lap, close to her abdomen, and starting right in stroking and massaging her spongy flesh through her dress.
His fingertips were soon insistently frigging the throbbing, pudgy mound of her cunt scarcely an inch above the swollen lips of her pussy, which Marilyn chastely guarded by forcing her thighs tightly together.
Marilyn ground her slit more strongly than ever against the hard rubber edge of the shoe heel under her loins. She hoped Peter would assume she was shrinking from his foraging fingers rather than nurturing the new, wickedly strong charge of lust hose fingers had jacked into her.
Oh, was she ever horny now! Daring to snatch a quick glance at her lap, she saw that a spreading circle of sticky dampness was staining her dress as her juices seeped through more and more copiously.
Peter strained with unyielding determination to dig his fingers between her thighs and down the short distance to the core of her genitals, and Marilyn was amazed to find herself slowly relaxing the pressure keeping her thighs together.
“That's the way, Marilyn,” Peter murmured hoarsely. “You be good to me, baby, and I'll be good to you.”
He massaged the lips of her cunt without mercy, jamming his fingers vigorously against them and working them slowly but forcefully this way and that against the surrounding flesh of her crotch. Marilyn let her thighs sag even farther apart, giving herself up to the delicious feeling coursing through her loins under the impetus of Peter's ceaselessly moving fingers.
It was all right for her to l
et him do what he was doing, she decided, once more gazing intently up at the movie screen. After all, he wasn't really touching her there, even if it felt as if he were. The erotic sucking sounds coming rhythmically from where he was working his fingertips against the sloppy-wet material of her dress did sound terribly wicked and nasty, but it was all right. It had to be all right...
CHAPTER FIVE
The big muscular man on the screen had not long kept his cock still in the throttling cuntal slot of his victim. After a very few moments spent lying at rest atop her, during which time he gathered his forces for the ruthless bout of fucking he intended to subject her to, he'd slowly begun to withdraw.
The girl's face reflected brutal anguish as he continued withdrawing, for she'd apparently just been deflowered. The slightest dragging movement of his thick shaft against the ragged tatters of her hymen, it appeared, was still excruciating.
The man stopped withdrawing when the flared base of his glans pooched out of the mouth of her vagina, and he immediately screwed his throbbing shaft deep into her pussy once more.
Then he started withdrawing again, and presently he was plowing his erection in and out, in and out, faster and faster, dragging the stretched, thickly veined skin of the ramrod shaft at an ever more punishing rate along the tender lining of her vagina.
And he plastered his lips against hers and began screwing his tongue into her mouth in time with the harsh pistoning action of his cock.
“God, look at him give it to her!” Peter groaned. “He's screwing her raw, Marilyn!”
“Oh, you shouldn't say—hey! What're you doooing?”
Peter had yanked his hand out of her lap, and now he was wedging it between her thighs far up under her dress as quickly as he could.
“Stop, Peter!” Marilyn squealed, spreading her thighs wide apart so that she could grab for his wrist through her dress.
Peter easily reached the plump, snugly held bulge of her genitals with his fingers, and he started right in frigging the wet flesh through the band of her underpants.