The slender girl kneeling at Jerry's feet was writhing in the throes of an orgasm as his monster cock spouted into her mouth. She gulped and swallowed the thick cum flooding her mouth, yet some still oozed out from between her lips where they embraced the veined pole. Pearly drops of semen trickled down her chin, then dropped slowly to spatter her slender graceful thighs. She lurched as Jerry thrust his spouting cock into her face, and took more than half of his monster organ into her mouth.
Jerry's orgasm felt like pulses of white-hot lava were blasting through him. Then finally his balls were sucked dry, and the pleasure of his coming changed to pain, and his lungs began screaming for air. Yanking his finger out of Caela's asshole, he heaved her off of his face roughly. He sucked in a huge gulp of life-giving air and felt the dark curtains of unconsciousness recede.
Caela convulsed once at the brutal extraction from her anus, then balanced on her feet, standing over him weakly as her orgasm slowly faded. Her asshole was sore, and she could feel cum and spit drying on her open pussy and naked thighs.
Cindy rocked back on her heels and licked the cum and the spit off her lips and swallowed it. Her belly was a pool of hot semen, her pussy a puddle of female cum. Her cheeks were cold with drying spit and semen, and her finger felt greasy and fouled.
"We better split," Pam said reluctantly. "Come on, Caela."
In a few moments, Jerry was alone. He was still sitting on the wooden chair, still catching his breath, still naked. Weary and aching, he finally got moving and began to dress. He felt sick and disgusted with himself as he wiped Caela's cum off his face, and smelled her shit on his finger. He didn't think he would ever be horny again.
He tried to act normal as he walked down to the pool where he expected to find Sue pacing and waiting impatiently for him. He would have to tell her some lie about having trouble with the boat to explain his lateness. He dreaded having to face her.
When he got there, there was no sign of her. He wondered if she had finally left him. He was frightened. He suddenly realized he loved her and his marriage, and did not want to lose either of them. He vowed if she returned somehow he would work with her to save their marriage. How, exactly, he didn't know. He slouched down on a bench and put his face in his hands and tried to think.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In order to see them all, Sue had to rotate slowly. One of them was always behind her. Their eyes were glittering with lust. They were in Paul Caldwell's mansion, less than a block from the yacht club.
"What do you want?" she pleaded desperately.
"Strip!" Bill Caldwell ordered. The way he said it gave her cold chills.
"Now, just a…" Sue sputtered.
"Strip!" Carl Randall ordered. "Or you won't be able to show your face in this town again."
Sue whirled to face the insolent lifeguard. Her pulse quickened at the sight of his muscle-stretched shirt. "You wouldn't dare say a thing," she snapped. "It would mean your job."
"But you see," Stan Simpson said reasonably, "we don't have jobs any more. At least, not with the yacht club. We have new jobs. With Mr. Caldwell. Now, strip, Goddammit!"
"I suggest you do as we ask," Bill Caldwell said calmly. "After comparing notes with these gentlemen, I discovered we have much in common. They are my crew for my Florida trip. Carl suggested this farewell party, and I immediately agreed. It's only right that we leave you with some lasting memories of us, since it will be a year or more before we return."
"You're all insane."
"Mad about you," Bill Caldwell replied. "Now, please do start removing your clothes. And do a reasonably titillating job of it, or we'll just rip them off of you. And how would you explain that to your loving husband?"
Turning slowly, Sue saw that there was no escape, and that his threat was far from being an idle one. From the look on Stan's and Carl's faces, they were half hoping she would not do as asked.
Shaking and terrified, Sue began fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. She tried to turn her back to them, but no matter which way she turned, one of them was staring at her hungrily. She hung her head as she unfastened the button between the jutting mounds of her breasts. She wished she hadn't worn the bra she had – a white lace half-cup one that barely covered her nipples, and exposed exciting expanses of creamy flesh, and showed a deep, seductive valley.
Why hadn't Jerry been there to pick her up when he was supposed to? If he'd been there she wouldn't have been kidnapped by these animals. What had happened to Jerry, and their marriage? And why did she have to feel so hideously excited at what was happening?
Even with her head hanging, the forward thrust of her breasts as she stripped her blouse down her arms behind her was magnificent.
Carl, viewing her in semi-profile, licked his lips. Inside his tight pants his cock was hurting, it was so hard and stiff. His eyes were fastened on the barely restrained breasts of their red-haired captive. He had seen them naked before, creamy and soft, and their hard demanding nipples and he was going to see them again in a few minutes. Then he was going to drive his cock into that hot, sucking, dripping, red-bushed pussy. He was going to have that lush, rich bitch pleading for more cock and more cock, and he was going to give it to her.
Stan Simpson had been in agony from his erection. Sue saw with a jolt that Stan had taken direct steps to relieve his pain. He had opened his fly, and let his prick escape. It stabbed up through the zippered opening like a pole, pale white against his tight blue jeans, pink topped, a vulgar totem pole of lust.
Her guts knotted with shame and blistering desire, Sue turned away from Stan as she unfastened her skirt. But she knew all she was doing was teasing the wiry, black-baked lifeguard all the more. She should face him boldly, and undress as matter-of-factly as if she were at home alone.
But she couldn't. Something was forcing her to make this linger and last, and it was not shame. It was stupid feminine pride in what she had to offer. Something inside her was driving her to tease and titillate these slavering men, to build their lust to the highest peak possible.
When she let her skirt drop, she did it gracefully and easily. It slid down her long, shapely, strong legs and dropped around her ankles. She managed, as she stepped out of it, to kick off her sandals at the same time. Then, wearing only her bra and panties, she turned slowly, posing for them. Bright sunlight streamed in through the tall windows of Bill Caldwell's library, spilling over her creamy flesh, warming her on the outside as their wanton admiration was warming her on the inside. Even if her husband didn't want her, there were men in the world who did. There were men in the world who wanted her badly enough to kidnap her. So, let them admire her.
Stan Simpson had one hand wrapped around his erect cock as if he were trying to restrain it. His eyes raked from Sue's wavy red hair, down to the jutting breasts in the lacy bra, then lower, to her small waist, then to the swell of her mature hips, and the shadow of red that showed at the crotch of her panties, and then finally down her long naked legs. Standing up, Stan kicked off his loafers and stripped his t-shirt up over his head and off, baring his wiry, muscular chest. He began unfastening his pants. He was going to get first crack at the bitch this time. No seconds for him. He was going to let those other poor bastards sweat and watch while he fucked her until she begged for mercy.
Sue saw the motion out of the corner of her eye when she was facing Bill Caldwell, and whirled to see what Stan was doing. The sight of him hurriedly stripping brought a jolt of fear, and a surge of lust and pride. Poor horny bastard, couldn't restrain himself, he needed her so badly. Well, she could bend him to her will, and she was going to prove it.