Johnny rose up, panting and disheveled, pulling off his pajama-tops. Then he reached out his two enormous arms and rolled both girls bodily off the couch, maintaining their locked position until he had twirled them in a complete circle, and then settled them carefully on the floor, with Darlene's legs still straddled over Linda's face, as the Negro girl dutifully continued to dine on her appealing guest. Now Johnny had the freedom and space he wanted, and he licked his lips as he saw Darlene's sweet round ass pointed up and out for an easy entry. Kneeling behind his wife, he hoisted her rump in a most felicitous position, then shoved an enormous TV-cushion under Linda's head so that she could still reach high enough to remain glued to her bubbly confection. Then Johnny aimed his thick throbbing weapon inwards at the moistened crease of Darlene's tawny cheeks, only a few precipitous inches above the beautiful clit-locked emollience of Linda's mouth, as slowly he eased his eager rod up… and in… and digging, until the head of it was clamped by the vise-like valve at the opening, Darlene writhing and groaning more fiercely as she sucked… until with one quick single hip-thrust, Johnny went charging fully up his wife's quivering, pulverizing rectum… oohmmm!.. so tight and clenching… and… "Ahhhhh!.. MotheraGod, is this the end! Oooh baby, it feels so damned lovable in… so wild…!" He gripped Darlene by the shoulders and pulled her down hard on his plummeting spear, then pressed his wife's face deeper between Linda's squirming thighs, hungrily watching those sensual girl-sucking formations of lips and tongue and growing more incensed by what he saw, as he fucked and rammed more deeply into her… Linda whipped into hotter frenzies by the cuddly hot slapping of his balls against her hair as she gazed up at that huge battering husband-cock embedding itself so thickly in and out of the flesh that she, too, was devouring. They heard the throat-scraping howls from Darlene, her body bucking and thrashing… as Linda felt the thunderous beginnings of her own orgasm even as the passion-crazed Negro girl convulsively jerked her body and let loose her precious streams, a veritable cloudburst surging past Linda's arms… and the girl gagged in the hot-drowning swarm and wasn't ready, but was coming now herself… trembling and spurting and gasping and sucking and ooooh!.. yes, coming…! So Linda let it happen like that… sipped and sobbed and welcomed these fresh tart, flows of debauchery… wallowing in this exotic mixture of slime and quicksilver… the serum and stuff of life… ahhh!.. see how the dear humanity-droppings for spraying and draining down the throat of married-lady-virgin to take root there and make her a part of everybody who gasps and pours into the flesh-receptacles of mother… at last, for Linda, the blending belonging link to fit the chain… as now she heard the violent storm of Johnny's thudding climax, glancing above her to watch that awesome final spectacle-plunge… and oh God, what drama this man gave to his orgasm, what a wailing breast-beating sweep to the performance… like something grand and operatic, as if a whole band of executioners had arrived to drag him screaming to the gallows… and Linda realized that they had all clung exquisitely together in this surging tide, gone under and dissolved in their mutual lust-swamps. Ahh, but more than the three of them, she reminded herself; for Brad Grogan was also here and accounted for. His feisty little embryo locked and taking seed deep in the tongued-out womb of her. Oh, impudent little bastard-amoeba had no doubt felt the tip of Darlene's zealous tongue… infant's first weaning, and God, what an appropriate start for the son of a rapist!
… Bodies still clenched and fondling on that morning breakfast-floor… limbs akimbo, mouths red and full-blown from thankful indulgence… communal flesh still sighing out the tributes… gone moist and becalmed in quenched harvest…
… I am emptied, thought Linda… and at last fulfilled.
Later that day she thought of her pregnancy again, and made the big decision. If David did not want this baby, she would give it to Darlene, sign it over to her at birth.
Then she made the mistake of telling the girl this the very next day.
EIGHTEEN
In years to come, whenever David Fortune looked back on his first day as a multi-faceted prostitute, he would never be able to identify himself as the man who went through all those outlandish gyrations. And yet, he grew quickly willing to please, for he found it a Wondrous, heady innovation that so many people could find joy from his body. Who would have thought this mere accident of glands and physiognomy could bring him such glowing adulation? Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined such a bizarre route to independence and self-respect.
His first assignment proved to be a most grueling caper. Even though Valerie had solidly primed him with her propaganda speeches, to say nothing of the potent nectar she'd slipped into his cocktail, David wasn't really prepared for the trio he encountered that day.
The two men were in their early and late forties. One was thick-set and balding, with a fat savage face and wet, sneering lips. The other was excessively tall and angular, his eyes shifty, face gaunt and sallow. Both had the look of men who were preoccupied with the thought of sex every waking hour, their mouths and eyes reflecting dark hints of fetishism and obsession. The woman who accompanied them was married to Hank, the taller and younger of the two men, and was the older man's sister. David saw at a glance that Sarah, as she asked to be called, was pushing sixty, although she was well-preserved for such an aging shrew. She was quite tiny and feline, with an intensity of gesture and expression that reminded David of Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard.
David noticed some impressive diamonds on Sarah's fingers, from which he deduced that Hank had married for money, and was no doubt accustomed to buying the lady whatever and whomever she wanted, as long as she paid for it. Ambrose, the fat scowling one, appeared to be along for a smirking voyeur-ride, although David couldn't be sure, judging from the way this man kept licking his clumsy sprawl of a mouth. Nor had anyone ever stared at him with such blatant hostility in his eyes, as if he not only hated all whores but could gladly throttle anyone in the least attractive.
David's attempts at light conversation… "Well, folks, here it is almost Thanksgiving-time again!"… were met with a stony silence. His patrons spoke very little until they were all inside the bedroom with the door closed.
"Can you lock that door?" asked fat-Ambrose.
"You needn't worry about that," said David. "Nobody can get in."
"He just wants to make sure nobody can get out," said the sylph-like Sarah, emitting a shrill and mirthless giggle.
David shifted about uneasily, and then told Ambrose there was a key on the table, and if it would make him feel any better, he could lock the door from the inside and stick the key in his pocket. All of which Ambrose did, quickly and unhesitantly. Then he turned and grinned at David, slobbering his tongue over his thick ugly lips. "This is how we always play. You don't mind, do you?"
"Oh no, no… I don't mind," David said hurriedly, remembering Valerie's instructions: whatever they want, be the willing, eager lackey-boy…
"Take all your clothes off," fat-Ambrose gruffly ordered him.
None of them had made a move towards him, but simply stood there, staring. David tried smiling at them, feeling there should be some warmth to the proceedings; after all, sex was one of the primary emotions. He also wished they'd turn off that glaring overhead chandelier, but knew he couldn't suggest this, for everything had to be their idea.