He'd finally found one spot where the stacked blonde surpassed his own wildly sexy wife. She couldn't blow like Sally, not by a long shot, and when it came to fucking, no matter how tight and fiery and luscious her delicious cunt was, she was no match for Sally's expertly trained silken slit. But her asshole was something else – squirming and wriggling on his stiff cock with fantastic tightness and fire. And the feel of her trembling, hot asscheeks in his fingers excited him too, their ripe white mounds quivering madly with each forward slam of his prick. Jesus, he'd be lucky to hold out five minutes with this honeyed tunnel.
He began a powerful stroking rhythm, bringing sharp cries of anguish from the farm girl's lips as he battered her bowels with lustful fury. When he stopped to think about it, he was downright tempted to leave his wife for the luscious bookkeeper. Hell, she had four thousand in cash, a wild eager mouth, a frantically juicy little cunt, and a boiling asshole. That could keep him up hard and ready for two weeks at least.
He could just split town with Carol, leaving Sally high and dry. Then when the four thousand ran out – well, he could gently suggest that Carol go out and get another job. He'd go hunting for the next sucker, while she diligently worked her ass all day.
Reluctantly, Jack had to decide against it as he slammed into her tortured hot asshole with ever faster thrusts of his huge rod. He simply couldn't pass up the hundred thousand, not after what those bastards had done to him in the desert that night. Deep down, he knew he was afraid, too. If they failed, well it was the final ride for fucking sure this time.
He only hoped it would be quick and merciful if that happened, not one of those horrifying drawn-out affairs he'd heard about. Well, fuck that! He told himself angrily, suddenly ramming his long rod to the hilt to make Carol scream at the top of her lungs and shudder from head to toe. He'd be Goddamned if he'd go into married life like a frightened boy scout. No more thoughts of chickenshit failure! He promised himself. The plan was foolproof, but it was absolutely esential they got out of Reno when their five-day limit was up, whether they reached their goal of a hundred thousand or not. That was as much time as he could allot to the risk, and not a second more. After five days, they'd be treading on extremely thin ice, the casino suspicious as hell and checking everything out.
"Oh Jack! Unnnng! I'm beginning to get… ooooooh! Excited darling! Love your… argh! Hot prick, yes, yessss, oh Jack fuck me in the assssss…eeeeeee!"
To his surprise, Carol was suddenly squirming her ass furiously and swinging her hips back to meet him. The blonde discovered to her own astonishment that the tortuous, crushing mass of his enormous prick in her tiny asshole had begun to give her a climax! She didn't know why, but the searing ripples of pain in her impaled bowels started fusing with her new passion and the next thing she knew her cunt was pulsing fiercely, pouring honey, and she was coming wildly.
"Fuck my ass… ooooh! Oh lover, Jack, fuck me harder, deeeper, fassssster, yesssss, love you!"
If Jack had known the truth behind her sudden excitement, even his sterling character would have blushed pink. The simple fact was that Carol Shaw, a shy, awkward and deeply frustrated virgin until two days ago, was so madly in love with him after rescuing her from a lifetime of agonizing dullness and hopelessness, she would have come even if he'd rammed his prick into her ear.
Almost anything he did to her at this juncture excited her!
"Shoot it in me, lover!" she begged, her huge dangling tits pouring sweat, her nails raking the mattress beneath her, her eyes gushing tears of maddened passion. Even the sound of her own obscene words excited her, fired her lust. "Gimme your come oh honey! AAAAH yessss, deep, hot, beautifull!"
Clenching his jaw and groaning, Jack felt a thick knot of jism boil up in his loins and race though his pistoning rod, spurting into her bowels in hot torrents. He fucked her in a final series of savage thrusts, battering deep and hard, thrusting into her soft hot bowels to the hilt. He climbed off with a long sigh. Jesus, what a wild ass! Now he'd have to lie to Sally, claim that Carol had screamed for mercy and wouldn't be able to sit down for a week, that he almost had to call an ambulance for her. And Sally, that sharp bitch, could in some uncanny way, always tell when he was lying to her.
Moaning and still undulating her ass on the bed, Carol cried heavy tears of pain and ecstasy while his cum trickled deeply into her ass, tickling and stinging at the same time. Well, if that was supposed to be an act of perversion, she couldn't care less! Anything Jack did to her was beautiful – as long as they got married. Marriage to this handsome, charming stranger was her wildest dream come true, her sole reason for breathing now, and her simple mind clung to that fact ferociously.
And very, very dangerously. Glancing at his watch, Jack was suddenly cold and crisp. "Come on, Carol, let's move it. It's time to go."
Slowly she got off the bed, her mind dazed, and she dressed. When they were ready to leave, she hugged him and stared into his eyes fiercely.
"I wouldn't do this for any man in the world except you, Jack," she whispered. Her intensity sent cold shivers up his spine. He'd always had unerringly sharp instincts about women – what turned them on, what made them cling, how to get rid of them without losing his life or his precious dick. But this one frightened him, she was too fucking intense.
"Then let's do it," he said abruptly. They left.
The night watchman at the Apex Supply Company took another bite of his crunchy-chewy peanut butter sandwich, hoping his dentures would hold out, and turned to the next page of his pin-up magazine. He leaned back in his chair with his legs propped up on his desk, his eyes bulging on a set of watermelon-sized tits. His wife Martha had tits almost as big as that when he married her fifteen years ago. Now they damn near hung to her knees, for Chrissake. Pussy loose and flabby, ass like an albino elephant, didn't even want to give head no more.
If he had to do it all over again he'd many some skinny little bitch and fatten her up, because it was a hell of a sight easier to put it on than to take it off. He heard movement in the front office and he quickly flung the magazine and his sandwich aside and got up, his hand resting on his gun-butt. He knew damn well it had to be someone working late, because nothing ever happened around here, but still he felt heroic and fearful as he crept forward and peered through the glass partition.
Then, smiling, he went on into the office. "Hi, Carol," he said, furtively eyeing her ripe tits. Now those would never sag to her knees, lucky girl. "Workin' late, huh, honey?"
She smiled nervously at him, fussing with the coffeepot, "Going over the books for an error, Harry. You go back to your desk and your reading. I'll bring you a fresh cup of coffee, okay?"
"Well, that's really nice of you, Carol – sure is," he grinned feeling a twinge in his cock. She'd always been nice to him when she worked late, and occasionally Harry jacked off thinking about the plump blonde, feeling an awful guilt later – especially when he'd fucked her in her lush breasts. You just didn't do things like that to a nice girl like Carol.
Five minutes later she brought him a cup of steaming coffee and went back to the office. Harry sipped it gratefully, turning the page to a loose-lipped brunette who winked at him while she wiggled one tit in her hand. Nice-lookin' dish like that probably had six, seven steady boyfriends, couldn't get enough of that hot stuff. Probably drove a man half-crazy with her sultry mouth.
If Harry, in his rustic innocence, had known the truth about the sexy brunette – that she sucked off other female models at every opportunity, on the floor of her publisher's office while he avidly watched, in front of the photographer, in the ladies' toilet, eating them out until they fainted, blowing them with such ferocity and lust she was known in the trade as Mad Mouth – he would have flung the magazine away with shock and disgust.