He sighed. "If this comes out, it'll ruin me with the company, your father and mother, my daughter, and probably Brighton. But I've got to have it back.”
"It slipped away temporarily. Cheryl and I expect to get it back tonight, anyway in a couple of days. You'll have to hold your horses.”
She wasn't so afraid, seeing him in person. She had more blackmail on-him than he did on her, after all.
He didn't answer at once. Then: "How's school? How's Cheryl?”
"School's fine. Cheryl's fine. She's been a good daughter to you, Mr. Wallace. She stole the Gypsy from me, believing the Alien story. But some frat types got hold of it by mistake. We'll get it back-give us a couple of days." She drank her wine, feeling better and better.
"Abby, Cheryl must never know what happened between us. It would ruin me… our relationship, father to daughter.”
"You're telling me," said Abby. It would ruin things between her and Cheryl, too, if Cheryl found it that her redheaded roommate had, well, face it, fucked the balls off her father. Cheryl, after her other disappointments of not getting to Vassar and fighting for the necklace, would kill herself or go off to India and never speak to either of them again. Something wild, that was for sure.
She went on: "Cheryl and I are good friends now, just like you and my dad. I almost mailed your damned necklace back. Then she showed up at the Delt house and I had to find out what you two were up to. If you'd've come to me, I'd've given it back.”
It was his turn to go negative. "Maybe. You're impulsive, as my wife, Cheryl's mother, was. Impulsive women sometimes destroy things. She ruined our marriage. She got us involved in… a peculiar form of sex. After I developed a strong desire for it, she turned on me. She hated it and would never have sex with me again. It's a good thing she died, actually.”
The word "peculiar" caught Abby's intention. She had finished her drink and risen to go.
"What was her 'peculiar' desire?”
He only grunted, staring at his glass. After a moment she moved to the door. "Well, I'm sorry about the whole mess of the Gypsy. Trust us to get it back.”
"Anal sex!" he suddenly volunteered. "I hate that goddam perversion." He stood up and hurled his empty glass across the room to crash into the wall. "Still, I can't shake it off.”
It was the first time she realized he was a little tipsy, like that night back in Chicago.
Her hand froze on the doorknob. "You said-anal sex?”
"God help me!" he said. "Not a woman in a thousand likes it. Sometimes I can buy it, but often not even then. I'm hooked. You understand, Cheryl's mother had a remarkable ass. It was fabulous.”
Abby began to tremble. Her knees felt weak. "You never… tried that on me last August.”
"A sweet, young and innocent girl? I'm no monster."
She came back to him, cunt wetting, breath short, cheeks flushing. "Pour me some more wine-John!”
She was afraid he'd pass out from a heart attack as he played with her as as she lay face down on the big sofa. He ran his hands up her curving back thighs, over the smooth elegance of firm young flesh encased in sheer pantyhose. He felt under her miniskirt, laying it back to her waist. He stroked the rounded moons of her buttocks, enjoying the play of the sheer pantyhose over her brief bikini panties. He snorted and gurgled and made inarticulate sounds.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
She felt high herself. The thrill of realizing that she was going to get her back tunnel reamed by a cock was enough to make her light-headed and burning hot already. She'd wet through her panties and pantyhose and her clit was swollen in anticipation of a new romp in kinky sex.
"I'm beautiful!" he said. "I just can't believe-a miracle.”
"No miracle," she laughed. "I've got a million hot little nerves around my back door. Maybe twice as many as most people. Even to think about being touched there gives my stomach a thrill like a fast elevator ride.”
“They'll make a new friend tonight," he chuckled.
He peeled down her pantyhose and panties, exposing the creamy, bare flesh. She got goose-bumps of excitement as he bit and nibbled on the yielding flesh of her rear. He teased her crack with his tongue. That was when she blurted out the story of Alien and his tongue-reaming. In a flash John Wallace washed off her seam and gave her hot reaming on her pucker, which made her tense her legs and gasp in sheer delight.
"I'm going crazeeeee," she wailed. "Rub my clit-I-I have to go.”
His gentle finger sunk between her cunt lips and found her central joy spot. His avid tongue kept firing up those nerves that protected her butt hole. She tensed her buttocks, lifted, fell back, squirmed and panted.
"Holy-holy-oh, ooohhh! I'm goooiiiiing," she sang.
The best part about an orgasm was the swift, inevitable rise to the throbbing sex death. She gurgled impossible things as he pinioned her and took her to glory, finally locking her legs, freezing her belly and buttocks and spending off for him with magnificent spasms of both her asshole and cunt. Wham, wham, wham. It was the most delicious ass tonguing she'd ever felt, because John was a master and unafraid. At last she went passive and glowing, the first part of her anal trip exquisite and yet only a prelude to the main act.
She laid there squeezing her toes in delight as he undressed and got ready to cornhole her. It was so terrific to find herself secure with him, alone in this room, about to enjoy perverted sex. There were no fingers to point, no secret, repulsive thoughts going on in his head for her to worry about. They were birds of a feather. What a shame she hadn't known this last August.
His prick looked red and fussed and she worried that he might not have lasting power. As she lay there on the bed, her young, adult body nude, her creamy skin moist with sex desire, her beautiful buttocks with the dark, inviting crack open to him, she guessed he was about out of his mind. How many good looking young girls could he approach and ask for anal sex?
"Now, Abby, baby, don't worry about what happens," he told her. "If you like it even a little bit, it'll be a great trip.”
Then he parted her buttocks and greased her seam with Vaseline, working her sphincter. She thrilled to the exotic pressure. Over her shoulder she could see his prick and his face. His prick, which had loosened a little, now tightened to such a rock hardness that it got a slight bow in it. The congested blood made it almost purple. His face was a symphony of delight and wonder, as if he had experienced a miracle that might fade at any moment.
"You're an ass-hound, all right," he laughed.
His probing finger met minimal resistance. More than once in the secrecy of her bed alone, Abby had assaulted her ass-button for the high thrills it provided. Sometimes she masturbated with one hand while she cornholed herself with the other, a dark secret she'd never reveal to anyone else. She loved the slide of hard flesh on the tender mucous membranes just inside her hole. In point of fact, she'd trained that highly sensitive area to respond to sex stimulation, another example of the high adaptability of the human body.
He pulled up her butt, knelt behind her, and fitted the knob of his cock to her sphincter.
Golden moment. She felt her heart pump rapidly, her body alive to this perverted cock invasion. It was authentic kinkiness, a total perversion, or misuse of both his cock and her ass for sexual purposes. It was far past kid stuff like sucking, whipping, bondage and those perversions that didn't involve a true lock of cock and body hole.
She knew it would hurt, but in her white hot desire to experience a full ass fuck she didn't care. He did it expertly. With his cock heavily greased, he took hold of her hips and lanced her asshole like a doctor plunges a needle into the flesh while giving a shot. It would've taken considerable work with a non-anal girl to loosen her sphincter. With an ass-wild girl, he violated her ruthlessly with a powerful fuck stroke.