Pushing down, she looked between her legs, staggered at the sight of Paolo's cock buried all the way up inside of her. Once more, she felt the flesh twitching and burning between her legs. Desire and passion were flashing through her body like a neon sign as Paolo started to pump into her, pushing upwards as he held her in the air, her feet around his back.
His tongue was suddenly in her mouth and she sucked on it with delight as he kept thrusting his huge penis in and out with savage probing strokes, almost as if he was attacking her with a spear. Gail felt Paolo's enormous blood-engorged pole of muscle. It pulsated and throbbed inside of her, alive, moving as she kept groaning out with rising ecstasy.
And all the while Paolo slammed into her, leading her out of the bathroom as she clung to him. The unbelievable pressure against the walls of her pussy made her quiver and she kept gasping with delight, holding onto Paolo as he carried her into the living room, impaled and squirming at the end of his massive penis.
He led her to a mirror and they watched each other through the glass, seeing their reflections shivering and moving as Paolo kept shoving upwards with jabbing lightning-like strokes that burned her, singed her cunt with a marvelous flood of pure and unadulterated physical pleasure.
"Yes, this is how it should be," she told him. "Always moving it in me all the time. Shit it feels so good, so big and hot."
He laughed and gripped her more tightly, and as she watched in the mirror, she saw his hairy muscular buttocks contracting, dimples forming as he used his muscles to push upwards, ramming his pecker deeper and deeper into the depths of her vagina. It was even better than the first time, she decided as she kept kissing him, completely satiated, filled with even more cock than she could handle.
But finally, Paolo couldn't take the intensity of his excitement. He shuddered, screaming out that he was going to come, going to shoot yet another thick load of semen into her pussy. "Do it!" Gail encouraged him, hugging him around the neck as her legs slipped down to his upper thighs and she wiggled her body back and forth, mashing her belly against Paolo's flat and hairy loins.
Screaming out, the young man came with a roar, every muscle in his body twitching and shaking as Gail felt yet another load of semen pouring into her, dripping over her pussy and down her thighs. Her insides felt mushy, churning with come as she too let loose, her orgasm upon her in a flash.
"Cock!" she yelled out. "Cock, fuck me, harder, harder shit I love it so much. I want more, more you big cocked animal. Fuck me. Do it, fill me, more!"
The words came out like his come, in bursts and wads that stung her insides as she lay against him, her head buried in the hollow of his shoulder, shivering violently and feeling such love, such ecstasy, that it was all like a dream, too good to be true, too exciting to be real and actual.
But it was real and even as he pulled his mule-cock out of her wide and mushy hole, letting her down gently to the floor, Gail was still coming, squirming and mewling as she looked up at him, looked at his come-dripping cock and closed her eyes, totally satisfied, totally fulfilled.
Less than an hour later, when she had dressed and Paolo stood before her, wearing his jeans and his shirt and looking at her with a smile of gratification, Gail couldn't resist.
She dropped to her knees, pulled down his zipper and thrust her mouth over his thick but detumescent tool. It rose up in her throat, filling her mouth as she sucked him off yet another time, kept blowing him, tonguing and lapping on his dick until he fell against her and shot his load, pouring his come into her mouth with amazing force and vitality. She couldn't believe that he could have so much jism in him, so much come to give her as she swallowed it down, wiped a trickle of hot come from the corner of her mouth and got to her feet.
"Tomorrow," he promised, kissing her on the cheek and shoving one hand under her skirt, pressing it against her damp and overheated vulva.
"Tomorrow," she repeated, gathering up her books and leaving him standing there in the living room, his pecker hanging out of his pants, reaching halfway to his knee as he waved a hand and said goodnight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gathered around the breakfast table were the Baxters, that wonderfully amusing, perfectly normal American family. Only Bret wasn't on speaking terms with Lois and Gail was too preoccupied thinking of Paolo while her younger brother, Gary, was thinking of what it would be like to ram his cock right between Sharon's legs. The latter being a friend of his sister, Gary looked up and stared at Gail curiously.
"How was your date last night?" he asked.
Gail did not enjoy his sarcastic tone.
"Did you get a lot of cramming in?" her mother asked.
"I'm late," Gail announced, jumping up from her seat and hurrying out of the kitchen.
"What's the matter with her?" Gary asked. He stayed where he was, waiting for his hard-on to go down so he could leave for school. He didn't want his parents to think he was that much of a freak. But finally, when the tremors of his imagination had passed and his penis had assumed normal proportions, he too got up and excused himself.
Lois and Bret were left alone.
Lois broke her self-imposed silence to ask, "Are you going to be home tonight?"
"And why shouldn't I?" he replied.
"Look, Bret, do what you please. But we accepted that cocktail party invitation over at the Lanes." The Lanes were a new couple that had moved in down the block. Lois had seen Mr. Lane for the first time a few days ago. She was immediately impressed with his rugged good looks and determined manner and, as a result, was rather anxious to go to his party and get to know him better.
"Are you still angry with me?" he suddenly asked, putting down his paper and looking at her with a serious and questioning intensity. Lois did not know what to say.
She felt confused, speechless, not understanding what her marriage had come to. It seemed to her that each day was filled with nagging little worries, doubts, petty problems which she no longer wished to handle or confront.
"No, I'm not angry with you," she finally replied, knowing that she was too much in love with her husband, despite his deficiencies, to keep up a grudge for any period of time.
"I'll be home, straight from the office," he promised her, getting up and giving her a fast peck on the cheek. Then he was gone and Lois sat there, alone with her thoughts. She had wanted Bret to take her in his arms, to press against her and smother her with kisses and fierce burning caresses.
That was the way it used to be, she reflected bitterly, staring into her empty coffee cup.
But now, Bret always seemed too busy, always seemed to be running and the modicum of affection he gave her, even his nightly bouts of fucking, were not enough to keep her happy. She needed something more, something more exciting. Something exotic, arousing, forbidden.
She thought of her son and smiled secretly to herself.
She thought of Mr. Andrew Lane and shivered involuntarily, pressing her thighs together, knowing exactly what she would do.
Andrew Lane worked in advertising. His wife June had been a high fashion model before her marriage and that evening, as Lois stood talking to her new neighbor with a drink clutched in her hand, she couldn't help but notice that her husband Bret wasn't able to keep his eyes off Andrew's wife.
But, at the same time, she sort of flipped out for Andrew. "Andy," he had insisted, looking at her and smiling broadly. Lois felt that she had a crush, a girlish infatuation for the handsome granite-faced man.
He reminded her of a movie actor, one of her favorites. There was something of the frontier hero in him, as if he should have been a gunfighter or a law-enforcing sheriff in a Western town. He walked like a panther, all svelte and muscled, slinking around with amazing grace and poise. In fact, Lois felt that Andy Lane radiated sexuality and she began to wonder what it might be like to go to bed with him. The thought lodged in her brain and began to nag her.