Diane felt aroused sensations churn through her at the lewd sight, and then Cord grabbed her and pulled her up tight against his erect cock, rubbing it along her belly through the thin material of her shift. She shuddered, beginning to move her own pelvis in time to his rotations.
"Some party, eh, kitten?" he whispered in her ear. "But you already guessed what it'd be, didn't you?"
"Yes, Marc, I guessed."
He laughed. "Well, c'mon, get with it. Get outta those clothes and let it all hang out!"
He released her, and Diane — with no trace of guilt or shame now — quickly took off the shift to expose her own trembling nakedness. She saw that Roger did the same, tossing his clothes along with hers onto a large pile of garments by the door. Cord drank in Diane's beauty with his eyes, licked his lips, and then waved Roger and her out onto the sun porch.
Cindy was making drinks at the bar, and she squealed when she saw Roger and rushed toward him, her naked breasts bobbing wildly. She kissed him hotly and took his hand and pressed it down to her moist cunt, taking his middle finger and insinuating it into her pulsating slit. "Glad you came, honey," she breathed heavily in a drunken drawl.
Cord fixed Roger and Diane a drink. In the doorway, he pointed to one of the dancing couples — a tall, gray-haired man and a tiny, brunette with huge, swaying breasts — and said, "That's Randall Anderson and his wife, Shirley. He's a bigwig with a bank in San Francisco." Then he indicated the second couple, a medium-sized man with a straggly black beard and a lithe blonde girl with a huge bushy pubic triangle, as a prominent San Rafael physician, Doctor Ron Hilton and Isabel Ziniwall. The red-haired girl who was having her cunt licked on the couch turned out to be Jolene Hilton, the doctor's wife; the man was Reg Wilcox, a local real estate agent. There was one other couple present: Isabel Ziniwall's husband, Norman, who was a copywriter for a San Francisco advertising agency, and Wilcox's wife, Patti, a pert black-haired woman with curvaceously slim legs. They were lying near the pool, caressing one another, and Ziniwall's lips were locked over the turgid nipple of her right breast while her hand stroked his long, thin cock and toyed with his swelling balls.
Marc, the introductions and amenities having been performed, then left Roger and Diane to move into the living room. He stepped up to the dancing Anderson couple, whirled Shirley away from her husband, and backed her up against one wall. He lifted her right leg with one and used the other to guide his huge, blue-veined cock into the wide, soft slit between her legs, and then rammed his great weapon home. Shirley Anderson gasped with delight, and began to use the wall as a springboard for her hips and she fucked back against his burgeoning tool with long, easy strokes.
Cindy pulled Roger into the other room, intending to usurp Jolene Hilton and Reg Wilcox from their positions on the couch; but before she could, Doctor Hilton left Isabel and grabbed Cindy and pulled her down onto the soft buff carpet. He began forcing his hard, leaking cock against her lips. She didn't resist, opening her lips wide to accept his invading monster, nibbling at it gently and hungrily. Roger knelt beside them, and Cindy reached out and grasped his own erect penis and began to stroke it lightly as she sucked the doctor's rod, he straddling her breasts.
Diane was left all alone.
But not for long.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Diane felt warm and sensitive all over, and her pussy was secreting the fluids of her desire down her inner thighs. She knew that with all this going on around her she was going to be fucked and fucked hard very quickly…
Suddenly soft hands wrapped around her, squeezing her breasts from behind, fingers roughly kneading the nipples. Diane looked down, surprised. She had wanted Marc first, but saw her nipples grow hard and erect under the pressure. Someone kissed her on the neck, on the shoulders. And she shivered as she turned and recognized the man as the sneaky looking Randall Anderson. He smiled crookedly at her, running his fingers from her breasts down to the pink, dilating cunt lips of her inflamed crotch. She groaned in protest at the sudden, familiar contact, but in spite of her revulsion she didn't try to stop him or pull away.
She looked down at his cock, which was fully erect and pressing against her belly like some conqueror's standard. Her face contorted with a slight revulsion at its sight, for Randall's member wasn't the beautiful thing Roger's or Marc's were; his was monstrous and webbed all along the shaft with heavy, throbbing blue veins, giving grim advance warning of the lustful state he was in.
"Like it, honey?" Randall grinned lopsidedly at her.
She tried to answer, but her voice seemed caught in her throat. "Yes, yes, I like it," she finally managed, knowing he was going to get it from her anyway.
"Good, because I'm going to put it up your cunt like a ramrod. It's going to go so far in that you'll be able to taste it all the way up in your throat," he said, his grin turning to a full smile of overwhelming lust.
Randall pressed against her then, forcing Diane back against the porch's tweed couch. She dropped to it, sitting with her legs together, staring fearful up at Randall, who looked down at her with eyes like fiery coals. His long cock had rarely ached as it did now, and he lowered himself to her, pushing her back, his face pressed in the soft, clean odor of her long blonde hair.
"Spread your legs, honey. I can't fuck you with them together." He thought that was funny and he laughed, his knees slowly and relentlessly forcing her legs apart, her toes hanging over the edge as she adjusted herself to his body. She gave up all thought of modesty or of caring whether she truly desired this man, knowing that resistance would be futile. A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt the hardness of his huge, bloated cock make warm, wet contact with the soft inner flesh of her thighs. Randall moved forward, insinuating the full length of his member along the narrow, wide-stretched crevice of her crotch, her shoulders pinned to the cushions, her buttocks squirming and twisting beneath him, inciting his lust to the fullest.
"No, wait!" Randall said suddenly. "I want you in the ass! Yeah, that's it. I want to shove my prick in your sweet little asshole. Turn over!"
Diane stiffened and a faint dizziness overtook her, making her gulp desperately for air.
"Go on, turn over!"
She moved slowly, unsurely, but did as he bid, tears of frustration and anger beginning to well up in her eyes. There was no escape. There was only the rigid dripping cock of the thin little man behind her, and it was quivering with the anticipation of the salacious attack it was about to render.
Randall's hand pulled her hips up off the couch, while his other hand steadied her back, pressing her head to the cushion. Her buttocks waved defenselessly in the air, and for a moment Diane tried to press forward and drop them from their lewd height, but he pushed her neck down. Diane gave up any struggle. Her body was a helpless toy for this man to use in his animalistic quest for satisfaction… satisfaction that would only cease when he had shot his load of hot steamy desire deep within her soft, resilient body.
Randall gaped at the ivory moons of her cream-white buttocks as they stretched before him like a sacrifice to uncontrolled lasciviousness. God, he had never seen anything like it before! His balls tingled and he hardly could wait to feel her squirm and cry beneath him; the thought sent sensations of desire racing through his groin like an electrical charge.