Chapter 3

This was no dream, no reverie, no imagined meeting.

It had happened and now Justin Whitlock was just as inflamed as Pam Harper. He stroked the tops of her smooth white thighs, glad that she hadn't been wearing stockings or panty hose, glad that he could caress and massage her tender and supple flesh.

And even as he caressed her, his tongue was digging deeper into her cunt, lapping up the hot spicy rivulets of sap, which were streaming down the fluttering walls of her swampy twat. He had seen the liquid stain of cunt juice that had covered the front of her panties and he knew how aroused she had become.

The intensity of her response, the way she was holding his head down and writhing back and forth so that his tongue hit against one smooth slippery cunt wall and then the other, pleased him to no end. He was determined to arouse her until she would be insane, unable to control herself.

And so now he strummed her body as if he was a musician getting harmonies and chords from an instrument. His fingers tickled the insides of her thighs, finally sliding higher until he was able to take hold of the edges of her thin girlish cunt lips.

These were no scarlet rooster combs of flabby drooping flesh, but taut elastic lapels that he now eased back, stretching them wide as butterfly wings. Pam thrust her crotch up again and again and when she let go of his head, Justin eased his tongue back. He lifted his face and stared down at her meaty box.

Between a narrow and gristly set of cunt lips he could see the swollen meaty button of her clit and it was to this delectable tidbit that he now centered his attentions. He rammed his face down with rising impatience, nipping at her clit so that she could not stop moaning and crying out with pleasure.

Her cunt gave off a strong heady odor, at once musky and pungent. And her juices tasted salty and spicy against his lips and tongue. Delighted with the way she was responding, he kept at it, nipping and frictioning his teeth and tongue against the tender shaft of her clitoris, then ramming his tongue as far inside of her tight girlish split as he could.

Her vaginal muscles jerked against his invading tongue, nipping at it with such conclusive force that he knew she was going to prove to be even more wild and arousing when they were in bed together. And that, needless to say, was something he didn't doubt would happen whenever he was ready to make the move.

But what he knew she still didn't understand were the kind of things he wanted done to her, the lurid sexual acts he had long imagined, never having been able to see them brought to life, consummated before his wide and staring eyes. Something told him that Pam would do anything he wanted, that the heated excesses of her sexual reaction were a product not only of his erotic skill, but also because she had fallen for him, head over heels.

That she seemed to be in love, or at least infatuated, certainly was no hindrance. And though he was yet to experience the same kind of breathless emotional involvement, his physical appetites were just as overheated and insatiable as hers.

Behind the front of his faded blue jeans he could feel how his cock was jerking angrily. It thrust out like a bar of steel against his fly, imprisoned, stifled inside of his dungarees. He wore no underwear and, as a result, he was acutely aware of how clammy and sweaty his groin had become, pre-come dribbling out of the bulbous and blood-engorged head of his tool to seep over his pubes and soak into the denim material of his jeans.

But Justin was a young man who knew how to exercise proper control; at least when sex was involved. He wasn't worried about coming in his pants, though not because he feared he wouldn't be able to climax a second time, but simply because he had trained himself to hold back until the last possible moment.

As a result, women had always found his sexual pyrotechnics unbeatable. His ability to sustain an erection without any artificial devices, his skill at holding his orgasm back until he had milked a woman of several climaxes, one right after the other, had all stood him in good stead with the women who had passed in and out of his life.

And Pam, he knew was not going to be the exception to the rule. He could feel how she was shuddering, how her vaginal muscles had already gone out of control, signaling her imminent release. But he did not want to milk her of an orgasm, not yet at any rate.

No, there would be time enough for that, when the moment was right. So he finally eased his probing licking tongue from out of her cooze, tickling her clitoris and then lifting his sweaty face. He let go of her cunt lips and they sprang elastically back, their hairy outer edges all wet and glistening, slippery with a mixture of saliva and cunt juice.

Pam slumped back against the couch, breathless and wild-eyed. She had no idea why Justin had stopped, especially when she had been riding a kind of stoned sexual rush, floating up towards the very moment of release.

But that, needless to say, was all part of his technique.

He edged back to rock against his knees and the backs of his legs, taking her in with a single wide and all-encompassing stare. She was naked, her flesh glistening and white, dewdrops not only beading the furry triangle that marked her tender mons veneris, but also dotting the fine down along her upper lip and right below her hairline.

Her breasts rose and fell and he saw her then as the very personification of tenderness and vulnerability. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered when she had recovered a modicum of self-composure.

"Don't say anything... just do," he replied in a whisper, as if he didn't want to break the spell that had been cast between them. He got abruptly to his feet to turn over the record, for Franck's symphony had come to its side one halt just moments after he had finally slid his tongue out of her juicy little muff.

And as he rose up before her, Pamela Harper's eyes opened even wider than before. She was now able to see that which she had tried to glimpse earlier. And what she saw, she liked, plain and simple. Justin caught her staring, held himself steady, facing her like that for a silent moment before turning around to change the record.

But the few seconds he had stood there, frozen and unmoving in space and time, had enabled Pam to see what she had lusted after.

There could be no doubt in her mind that he was as well equipped as she had always imagined... no, felt... her dream- image to be. Behind the front of his provocative skintight jeans she had seen the long swollen outline of his cock and she wanted to throw herself at his feet the way he had done to her. Not slavishly, but merely so that she would be able to lunge forward and rip his jeans off, feasting upon the thick bloated length of his manly cock.

Justin had exactly the same thought in mind.

He turned the disc over to side two. The second movement Allegretto began, its moderately fast tempo setting the rhythm for the delicious bout of fellatio he planned to enjoy. That she would be ready and willing was something he didn't doubt for one second and when he turned back to her, he thrust his crotch forward as if to demand she gape and stare at the silhouette of his rigid and throbbing hard-on.

His dick had slipped down along the inside of one dungaree leg. The denim was tented out so distinctly that Pam had no difficulty making out the exact dimensions of Justin's turgid member, even down to the shape of his leaking glans and the slight depression at the neck of his cock.

His rounded stones seemed full and loose, a swollen bag she could see stuffed--no doubt uncomfortably, she supposed--inside the crotch of his jeans. "Is it crazy that I'm staring?" she asked.

"By whose standards? You dig looking at it--cool. You dig playing with it, even better," Justin told her.

He sauntered forward, half play-acting, half-serious. But he was totally earnest about having her rub her lips and tongue over his boner and no sooner had he moved in front of her than Pam lost the last vestiges of her self-control.

She lunged forward, nearly toppling him over. Her hands clawed at the front of his jeans and she slid her horny fingers up and down the inside of his stuffed trouser leg, fondling the stiff and steely projection that was his pulsating cunt-rammer.

Justin smiled to himself; delighted with the intensity of her reaction, with the way she was really anxious to have him. She rapidly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, not even thinking of what she was doing. Having sex with Bix was one thing. But this was something else, neither better nor worse. Just different...

But the gist of it was that she had gone without this kind of "difference" for far too long. Now, it was as if Pam Harper was making up for lost time. She pulled his fly open and rather than reaching inside to haul out the stiff projection of his dick, she shoved his tight faded jeans down off of his waist and hips.

Justin watched her, a smile of pleasure etched across his lips. Her flushed naked body beckoned to him, calling out as he gazed at the musty smelling tangle of blonde fur that covered her thin yet puffy labia.

The folds of meat clung to each other and pictured the pleasure that would soon be his when he peeled them wide again. Only then, it would be as a result of the insistent invading pressure of his cock, not his fingers.

She tugged more vigorously, surprised that his jeans were as tight-fitting as they looked, difficult to remove as if he had worn them in the bath to get them to shrink to the very lines and proportions of his burly figure.

And then, even before she was rewarded with the sight and feel of his cock, even as he pulled off his faded blue work shirt, she was able to see the damp thick forest of his wiry black pubic hair. It made a thin furry line down over his flat washboard stomach and the hollow depression of his navel. Then, it thickened abruptly, fanning out across his groin, barely concealing the braided blue veins along his crotch.

Then the jeans were pulled lower and seconds before his dick was released, she was able to stare at it as if she had never seen a man's organ in all of her life. It had been a long time, in actuality, and though she couldn't say that she had forgotten what a penis looked like, she still stared as if she had never seen one before, or at least, never one as vigorously proportioned as that which Justin Whitlock now sported.

"Pull 'em down," he said with a note of impatience. He was shuddering, wanting her to suck him off before they would really get down to business. The latter was going to be a surprise, he decided. But first he fully intended to enjoy the wet slobbering embrace of her horny little mouth.

Pam certainly wasn't adverse to opening her lips wide and taking in as much of his dick as she possibly could. So her fingers pulled his jeans still lower until she had freed his cock. It sprang out at her like an uncoiling spring, the bulbous cap of his penis hitting her right across the lips.

After that, nothing seemed in the least bit surprising.

She didn't even have time to stare, to take in the details of his genitalia. Almost as if the motion was a reflex action, she opened her mouth, her jaws aching as she thrust her reddened and eager young face right down over the leaking head of Justin's penis.

"Perfect, perfect," he groaned, swiveling back and forth so that his glans banged against one side of her mouth and then the other. He didn't rush into things, nor push forward to greedily and excitedly impale her mouth over the entire length of his swollen member.

No, for he took his time, letting her get used to the virile dimensions of his manly rod. He could see how she was straining, how her lips were spread grotesquely wide, no doubt wider than she had ever opened her mouth before.

His cock was nearly as thick around as her girlish wrist and Pam was doubly amazed by its sheer length and breadth. Seven inches had always seemed large and certainly adequate. Eight inches of surging manflesh had been tried only once before. But Whitlock was hung to the length of nearly nine hard inches and the additional thickness of his throbbing member made it doubly difficult for her to get her lips all the way around his gristly cock-shaft.

"Take your time... and use your tongue," he whispered. He bent his knees slightly and kept his hands on his hips, his fingers dangling down towards the deep inguinal indentations that set his crotch off from his thighs and belly.

She slid her head closer, feeling the way she was taking in more and more of his joystick. And when the head of his cock banged against the back of her throat she gagged slightly and stopped, trying to grow accustomed to the unusually energetic dimensions of Justin's penis.

He is the guy in the dream, she told herself, for even down to this, the size of his dick, he had not disappointed her or proven to be in any way different from that silent stranger whom she had known through her fantasies, the jean-clad figure who stepped into her bedroom for his ritualistic round of early morning rape and forced sex.

This too was almost forced, but she rather enjoyed that as well. He didn't grab hold of the back of her head the way she had done to him, but stood there, almost cocky, his hands on his hips and his penis buried a good six or so inches between her tightly clinging lips.

She couldn't take in the entire length; having never learned how to avoid gagging when her mouth was so completely filled. But he didn't thrust or jerk forward. Rather, he slid his pecker halfway out, savoring the friction and tactile stimulation produced as he grazed his shaft along the edges of her small even white teeth.

She slapped her tongue along the ridge of muscle that bulged out on the underside of his tool and as she pressed her knees down onto the carpet, kneeling before him, her fingers reached down to lift up the dangling weight of his hairy scrotal sac.

His balls were like hen's eggs, heavy and filled with come. She ran her fingers over the folds of wrinkled flesh and let his sac dangle against the palm of one hand. And then she explored the muscular expanse of his hairy thighs, loving the very sense of strength, of power and animalistic fury, which seemed to be radiating from his body.

Justin had seen chicks go wild over him in the past, but none had ever carried on the way Pam Harper was doing. He didn't fully understand where he stood in the scheme of things, the true importance of being the reincarnation of her dream-figure. But even if he didn't understand what she was going through, he certainly could comprehend the way she was deriving just as much pleasure as he was. She shoved her face back and forth, slamming her mouth over his bulging dong so that the head of his cock tickled her tonsils and bent them back.

His tool was leaking pre-come at an almost alarming rate. The bittersweet oily fluid slid down her throat and she inhaled deeply, getting off on the smells of his body, just as he had enjoyed sucking up the heady scent of her pungent muff.

His crotch exuded a musty and sweaty aroma, piquant and intoxicating. Here was a man, she thought to herself, a man who would bring her out of herself, who would give her love and security and the pleasures of the flesh.

He made her feel more like a woman than anyone she had ever known and she slid her hands up along his wide-set thighs, moved them around and finally grabbed the tight muscular cheeks of his boyish ass, one in each hand.

She pulled him closer to her then, squeezing his buns, feeling the way they were hard and firm, silken as a result of the almost invisible gossamer down which grew over his rump. By this time, her cunt was leaking copiously and hot drools of sap trickled down along the insides of her shuddering thighs.

She could feel her sexual appetites flaring up and she wanted to jump up on him, wrap her legs around his waist and ass and let him slam his pecker right into her pussy, impaling her on his sword-like cock. Then, so she imagined at the moment, he would carry her around the room and she would feel the full length and thickness of his penis sliding in and out of her cooze, setting her passions on fire, milking her of every last ounce of erotic bliss.

She pulled her head back until just the plum-shaped glans was stuffed between her lips. Her tongue probed the slit of his piss- hole, tasting more pre-seminal fluid as he rocked back and forth, his jeans down around the tops of his cowboy boots and his body naked and shiny with sweat.

She looked up at him then and he was staring down at her with a grin across his thick sensual lips. The hard virile lines of his burly torso enticed her and she studied the definition of muscles that traversed his chest, pleased to see that he was the bear she had hoped he would be.

As with animals, his torso was covered with a thick luxuriant pelt of jet-black body hair, chest hair, which fanned out over his pectorals and nipples and then tapered down to a V which became a narrow line over his belly, thickening again at his groin. It was a pattern, like the pattern of fur along Bix's belly and the more she looked up at him, the more animalistic and savage he seemed to become.