Chapter 1

I was hanging out in the local adult book emporium - nothing ELSE had worked... A bit about me, I guess, to start: I'm twenty four, around six feet, not too heavy, and apparently, pretty nondescript. I'd moved here to go to college, then rush out and make my first million. I'd managed the first half; somehow the second was elusive. I was doing bookkeeping for a local clothing store, and fiddling a bit as sales help when required - something I hated; sales is NOT my bag! In my spare time, I was suffering a lot; I'm a lousy dancer, and I don't get drunk enough in clubs to be able to ignore the fact that some really nice looking babes are just stupid - or shallow - or both. Given the fact that I'm usually ignored in a crowded environment, well, you get the picture. I fully expected that I'd end up renting a couple of videos (they had been getting more and more kinky lately, as I became more and more decadent in my tastes) and make violent love to my hand. For the moment, however, I was surveying the racks, trying to resist the temptation to wander back to the peep booths and deliver a protein shake to a set of anonymous lips at one of the glory holes in the end booths.

Then I spied them, pawing at the toy rack. Two chicks, oh, eighteen to twenty range, apparently, dressed pretty casually for the season. The one on the right was a blonde, thin hair all bleached to straw, thin face, braces? She was doing a lot of high-pitched giggling, which didn't impress me any, and as she held up a boxed dildo, a pretty substantial rock decorated her left ring finger. I sighed, and set myself to ignore her.

Her companion was quite a bit bigger, and it was quickly apparent that she was serious in her perusal of the wares. She had shoulder-length dark brown hair, and her hands, displayed as she examined a much more workmanlike item, didn't proclaim any ownership. In fact, each of her long, powerful- looking fingers displayed a different item of cheap jewelry - a dead giveaway that she wasn't pleased with them for some reason. She wasn't giggling; she was fingering boxes and comparing in a way that said a serious purchase was in store. I sidled closer. She was wearing one of those track-suit/pajama things that had become popular despite the fact that they weren't very revealing - I guess the idea that if you gave the pants a tug, you'd see the girl's bare ass and the fact that the thin material transmitted every wiggle were the draws; those things worked on me... Anyway, the thing hung low and baggy, and gave the impression that the body beneath was baggy, too - but as I watched, the woman reached for something on an upper rack, and the too short top came up, revealing not a roll, but a belly with a distinct, sexy (to me) pooch - not flat, not a jiggly roll, but that area between that said she was carrying more than a model, but less than an elephant. Womanly, to my mind. I sidled closer, and as I got set up to move in on her left, she squatted, displaying a couple of wide love handles punctuated with dimples over her hip bones. That settled it. I was going in.

I settled into a squat beside her and announced myself, "I always wonder about the advertising on those things. Looking for something special?"

"Um, yeah," she mumbled, blushing, "For a friend."

The blonde gave me a poker-faced glance that told me better than an engraved announcement that the brunette's 'friend' was between her own legs. "Well, do you have any experience with them? I think a lot of the crap on the box is false advertising." I held up a solid, eight inch item. "Besides, something hard and cold like this won't replace the real thing." I mustered my courage, and laid a hand in the middle of her back. I held the vibrator out to her with my left hand, and she took it and pretended to examine it - but she wasn't really looking at anything. Her expression had gone vacant; she was feeling my hand. I started gently sweeping it up and down her back, keeping up the patter. "This thing's got three speeds, which might be nice, but I'd think you would want more variable control, don't you?"

"Yeah, maybe." Her eyes were green - kind of glassy, at this point, but a nice color. Her face was kind of pink, but she hadn't moved a millimeter - and I'd inventoried quite a bit of her back's upper surface. I wasn't unaffected - this looked like paydirt, big time, and fifty thousand units of mixed adrenaline and testosterone were rushing through my veins. I let the hand slide lower, contacting bare skin, and slid it over those dimpled hips.

About that time, the blonde started to intrude, "Hey, are you an employee?" She backed up and took in my hand. "Irma, is this perv messing with you?"

Irma got her voice under control. "No, we're talking about these things."

Blondie kept nattering, her attention totally shifted from the display, but I'd heard enough. I started the hand in motion again, this time sliding it under the top. Irma looked at me, sidelong, but said absolutely nothing, while I slid my palm along a plain of soft flesh. I picked up another item, one with a little protrusion near the base designed to tickle the clitoris while buried, apparently. "I understand what this is SUPPOSED to do, but... I always kind of felt that these things were an accessory, something to be used to make you even more happy while something firm, but not hard, and a lot warmer, was doing the real work. Did you know you could get stuff like that in places like this?" I slid my hand down, easily defeating the waistband of her pants, and drew a finger along the top of the groove between the heavy cheeks nestled there, while watching her face. It was heavy, thick featured, the nose a bit too short and upturned; she wasn't hog- nosed, but doubtless she'd been called that. She had a double chin, too, but I found it interesting that only the real, smaller one was quivering - the heavy jaw muscles appeared to be quite stable. She wasn't a beauty - but you know, she wasn't ugly, either, and a smile on that face would be very nice to bask in. I moved my hand back up under her shirt and braced myself - God knew how THIS was gonna go! - took her left hand in mine and placed it on the solid length of flesh pipe that had extended itself down my right jeans leg, saying, "In fact, you can get it right here..."

The green eyes bugged, and she made to snatch her hand away, but I held it a moment, and there was no follow-up to the reflexive jerk. After a moment, tentatively, she started measuring it, and applied a gentle squeeze. I dropped all pretense and leaned in, murmuring, "You only have to be brave once, Honey. I'm gonna ask you a question, and if you say 'no' I'll be a good boy and go away, but if you say 'yes', I'm gonna take it easy and be real gentle, but we're gonna take care of the basic problem, rather than fooling with band-aids." I gathered myself and locked eyes, "Do you want me? You don't even have to talk - I'll take a nod..." She'd leaned in, to hear me whisper - and to facilitate a more and more robust exploration of my hard rod. I watched her, fear and desire at war in her face. My wandering right hand got a finger under the elastic at the back of her brassiere, and I slid it along, around to the side, working it under the underwire barrier of the cup to feel the soft flesh of a breast. They would be heavy, and sag, and might not be a wet dream to look at - but I was interested in knowing how sensitive they were, and how strongly she'd react to lips on the nipple.

Meanwhile, Blondie was beginning to get strident. "Irma, is that perv feeling you up?" she hissed in a stage whisper. "I'm gonna call an employee - you shouldn't have to put up with that shit in here! Irma?"

Irma's eyes remained locked on mine, but she addressed Blondie fiercely, sotto voce, "Vickie. Shut. Up."

"B-but..." Vickie drew back, surprised.

I flicked a quick glance at her and murmured, "It's all right - I'm nice people." Then I turned my attention back to Irma.

Emotion washed back and forth in her eyes as the battle waged - fear, desire, and other things I couldn't readily identify. "Just once?" she asked, huskily.

I held her eyes, put on my most sincere expression, and murmured, "Oh, I hope not!"

She nerved herself, her face saying, 'God, I hope I don't live to regret this!' and nodded, quickly. I gathered her in close, and kissed her quickly below the left ear. She shuddered, but then she tried to tuck herself into me - something difficult given the fact that we were nearly of a size. I launched a full-scale invasion of her right bra cup, displacing it and disrupting its mate - and gathering in a substantial handful of soft flesh, with a stiff protuberance capping it. I locked that bit of gristle between my second and third fingers, and Irma groaned softly. I looked over Irma's shoulder at Vickie, whose mouth was still working, and said, "You want to protect her, right? I understand. But it's gonna be okay. My intentions aren't what you'd call honorable, but they're something she wants - and I plan to make it memorable, for both of us."

"Look, Man, I don't trust you." Vickie's face reflected this sentiment.

"Well, that's cool," I allowed. "I'm willing to do whatever to make you feel better about it."

"Um, like leaving Irma alone?" Vickie probed.

I didn't say anything, merely shifting my attention to Irma - and rubbing the two fingers trapping her nipple back and forth. Irma's voice shook as she hissed, "Cut it out, Vicks." I was, frankly, amazed. Vickie shrugged, and looked away.

"Honey," I murmured, returning my attention to the rack, "I hear that this little thing will give you about all you can really expect from a vibrator." I fished out a small item about the size of a lipstick case with 5 small balls on the upper surface. "Kind of amazing, huh? If you get this kit with the tips..." I waved a box before her, "there are some little goodies that make it versatile, too!"

"Um, really?" Irma peered at the box. There were four or five items inside. The first couple were kind of simple - a smooth domed tip, and one with small teeth on it. But there were a couple of small sleeves, too - one that did a pretty good job of looking like a flickering tongue, one that added a soft cock head, and a third that added a narrow, pencil thin flex tip about four inches long. Irma's finger settled unerringly on the last item. "What's that?"

"Um, it's for, um, ass play," I related, somewhat diffidently.

"Really?" The green eyes were wide with amazement.

The reaction could have been a LOT worse... "Yeah, it's narrow, so it's not scary, but... You know, uh, it'll take a lot more..."

Irma nodded, "Uh huh." But her eyes weren't reflecting a whole lot of belief.

"Jeezus, you're cute!" I exclaimed, hugging her to me. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh." Irma picked up Vickie with her eyes, as we rose and turned toward the checkout. I let go, reluctantly, and the girls lined up at the counter. Vickie kept flicking glances at me. This was a critical period, I knew. If Vickie put on a full-court press when the girls hit the door, that could be it. Toby, the clerk, popped open the package and fished out the vibrator. "What are you doing?" Irma asked.

"I'm testing it," he replied, producing a battery. "You can't return it - health regs - so I'm proving it works."

Irma turned red. "You don't have to," she husked.

I saw an opportunity. Sliding up, I murmured, "Let the man do his job, Honey. You're paying for it - you might as well know it works."

Irma subsided. Toby blinked owlishly, and connected us with his eyes. The vibe let out a healthy buzz, and he repackaged it. Eyeing me, he asked, "You gonna check out any flicks, Mike? We got some new stuff..."

I scrubbed my face; this query wasn't exactly welcome. "No, Toby, I'm gonna pass," I related diffidently. "I'm hoping to do better." The 'If you don't fuck it up!' carried to him without having to be uttered, He grimaced, mouthed "Sorry," and concentrated on his repackaging.

Irma turned wide eyes on me. "You watch this stuff?" she queried.

If looks could kill, Toby would have been a pillar of ash. I sighed, "Yes, Honey. I don't get many opportunities to entertain, so..."

Irma eyed me sidelong, her head tilted. The visible evidence of mental process going on between her ears would have made some guys run for cover, but to me, it was a confirmation that things were going well; Irma marked me 'attainable' in her mind in that instant. She slid her arm around my back and asked, "Can we look? Vickie was a big baby about it..."

I blinked. Somebody had loaded the dice, somewhere... I slid my arm around her, and murmured, "Sure..." I flicked a bemused glance at Toby, "Hold that for us, willya?" and we went off to peruse the racks.

We wandered up and down, stopping here and there. "You're not picking anything out," Irma observed.

"Um, well, I don't know if it's time yet for me to show you just how bad a perv I am," I chuckled nervously. "I'm trying NOT to confirm Vickie's opinion of me." I flicked a glance at Vickie, who was fidgeting near the counter. "Is she that hung up?"

We were moulded at the hip, so I felt Irma's shrug clearly. "She likes to fuck, and I think she gives her fiancé head, but she's kinda chicken," she related. "It took me a month to get her to cover my back in here. If I'd known then what I know now, I'd have come in alone a long time ago."

I grinned. "What's she think of girl-girl stuff?" I inquired.

Irma glanced over at Vickie and smiled cattily. "She wouldn't want you to know."

"Was she going to leave you to your own devices, or was she going to help?"

Irma leaned up and whispered in my ear, "I think she was going to help."

I nodded, saying nothing. "C'mon," Irma prodded, "What should we be looking at?"

"It's your call," I replied. "If you see it on the rack, you can pretty much figure I've seen similar, at least."

"Everything?" she asked, looking back at the gay rack we'd just bypassed.

I confirmed her direction of observation, and sighed. "Everything. I'm kind of omnivorous. After you've entertained yourself a while..."

Irma held up her hands. "Okay." After a moment, she continued, "So what would you recommend?"

"Well," I allowed, "You seem to be pretty open-minded, but there's no reason to go nuts. How much of this stuff have YOU been exposed to?"

"Um, none, actually," she confided. She picked up a box advertising a three-hour compilation. The montage on the box featured some pretty serious DP action. "It's all pretty exciting looking, but..."

"Why don't we start easy?" I recommended. "Amateur stuff, couples, not too exploitative? Girls' sensibilities tend to be offended a bit by some of the rougher stuff. If you want, we can always graduate to something serious, later."

"Okay." I guided her to the amateur rack, and we picked out a 'Fuck my Wife' and a flick that proclaimed it was amateur action, (avoiding a couple of known dogs), then headed back to the counter and the distraught Vickie. "Change of plan, Toby. We'll rent these." I fished out my money clip. "I've got the vibe, too."

"Okay." Toby took the numbers off the boxes, and went to collect them form the racks, while Vickie examined the boxes and made horrified noises over the things going on in the pictures. Toby came back and calmly declaimed, "Actually, these two are pretty much good, clean fun. The one is fantasy fulfillment, and the other is real couples sex - at least supposedly." Having become irritated, I watched him decide to jerk Vickie's chain, "You wanna see real exploitation, check out the deep throat gag flicks on aisle four." While Vickie puffed and blew, he turned to me, "That'll be forty two seventy, Mike." I fished out three twenties and Toby made change, handing the bag to Irma, who hadn't left my side. I waved her out ahead of me, and Vickie followed, sputtering.

Once outside, I hit the next serious hurdle, head on: "Okay, Hon, your place, or mine?"

Irma turned to face me. looking anxious. "We were going to Vickie's - I still live at home. But her live-in boyfriend probably won't be happy to see you... You know, he might have been thinking..." I glanced up, surprising an odd look on Vickie's face - apparently, she was reprocessing something her boyfriend had said, and discovering that things weren't as rosy at home as she had thought.

Re-engaging, I gave Irma a quick peck. "My place, then. C'mon, my car is over there."

Vickie didn't like it. "She rides with me!" she insisted.

"No, she rides with me!" I retorted. "I don't want you whisking her off 'for her own good' or nattering at her the whole way." Reaching my car, I fished a pad and pen out of the seat pocket. "I'll go real slow - but in case something happens, we're going here." I wrote my name, address, and phone number on the pad. "In any case, you have your cell phone, don't you, Hon?" Irma nodded, and I turned to Vickie, "You can call her and make sure I don't molest her on the way." In an effort at gallantry, I led Irma around to the passenger side of my two-seater and settled her in. Irma moved smoothly and gracefully, and I began to wonder just how badly that outfit of hers lied about its contents.

I was backing out of the parking space when Irma's purse erupted into the William Tell Overture. Rolling my eyes, I advised, "Tell her to pay attention to her driving, or we'll lose her coming out of the parking lot!" Irma giggled - yes it was a nice smile.

I grinned back while Irma relayed, "Vickie, get your hands-free organized, or we're all gonna have to sit around at the wreck you cause for half the night!" I made the left out of the parking lot. Traffic was heavy, so I went down a block and pulled off in the entrance to a tire store parking lot and set my flashers. "Don't kill yourself, we're waiting on you!" Irma chided into the phone. Bored, I entertained myself by rubbing Irma's leg; she merely smiled. "I'll give you an hour to stop that," she teased. I was suddenly one happy mother fucker - things were gonna have to go seriously wrong for me not to get my dick wet, apparently!

"Okay, see the Pontiac?" Irma asked me. I nodded, and she went to the phone, "That's us, with the flashers. Let us back in in front of you," she directed Vickie. The Pontiac slowed down and flashed its lights, and I slid out of the drive ahead of it. Running down the block, I glanced over and pushed my luck, "Do you think you could do that thing you girls do where you get rid of the brassiere?"

The answer was a throaty chuckle that ran a shiver up my neck. "Might as well, the thing's up around my neck, anyway!"

I glanced over in time to see it appear through the sleeve of her top, and kind of just stared for a moment. They weren't riding high, but based on feel, I'd expected that. They were sizeable, though. I worked a hand under her top and slid it over her left tit, quickly discovering the nipple. "Uuhh!" she groaned, "Cold!"

I grinned. "Sorry - sorta. Sure popped up the nipple, though!" It felt great, too. I could feel the tight wrinkles of her constricted areole, and the fat, protruding length. I fished my hand out to downshift for a red light. "Sorry, it's a standard."

She glanced over, interested. "Four speed?"

"Five."

"I can shift - I know how." I kind of sat there, looking at her with my mouth open. "What?" she asked.

"I'm trying to figure out how I won the Lottery," I replied.

"Guts?" she supplied. "'Cause I was there?" The light changed, and I laid my hand over hers on the shifter to work through the gears.

"Why WERE you there?" I asked.

She shrugged, and an interesting ripple occurred under her top. "It was a long time coming, but I was..."

"Horny?" I supplied.

That chuckle again. "It goes 'way beyond that," she assured me. "Still, I never expected to be here..." We'd settled into fourth gear, so I released the shift lever and started worming my hand back under her top. Irma leaned her head on my shoulder to facilitate the move. The phone started squawking, and Irma held it to her ear. "Vickie says I'm acting like a total slut."

I shrugged - and regretted it as her head came momentarily off my shoulder. "Well, we're doing stuff usually reserved for date number three..." The traffic situation changed: "Give me third."

Irma moved the lever, awkwardly, with her right hand, and murmured quietly, "I don't generally get that far."

"No?" I responded, surprised. "Why not? It's a seller's market. Most guys I know..."

"Wouldn't give me a second glance," she finished ruefully. "I went to dance clubs for a while, but I got tired of holding up the walls..."

"You're kidding, right?" I disparaged. "Okay, so you're not a swimsuit model - but then, swimsuit models tend to be stuck up. Gimme second, we've got to stop."

"I"m kinda dumpy - you know that! Guys..."

"Lots of guys spend twenty four hours a day in quiet desperation," I argued. "Me, for instance."

"All I know is that if there are ten girls in the room, I get out the gate just before the elephant and the moose!" she retorted.

I thought about it. "Guess I have the same problem. First!"

"Huh? Oh!" The shifter moved.

I let out the clutch, and we started forward. "Two." The move was smooth - she knew her manual transmissions. "Three." Things looked good - I might have pushed it, alone, but I didn't want to challenge her, and Vickie was following, anyway.

"Really?" Slight wonder sounded in her voice. "YOU can't... ?"

"It's worse for guys," I sighed. "Either you're ungodly handsome, or a silver-tongued devil - or you settle for leftovers, usually burnt by the first two groups. They go through women like Grant through Richmond, leaving 'em broken and distorted and looking for money, since love didn't work. And I don't have THAT, either!" I added bitterly.

That chuckle again. "Well, I've been missed by ALL THREE groups, so I guess I'm... virgin territory?"

I nodded, watching the traffic. "And a pearl beyond price."

The phone squawked and Irma chuckled again. "Vickie says you just blew the silver-tongued devil thing."

"Vickie will discover that I tend to be brutally honest - which doesn't help me with women," I retorted.

The phone squawked some more. "She'll believe it when she sees it," Irma relayed.

"Fair enough." I floored the clutch and turned on my left signal. "Drop us into first; we're going left into the lot, here. Almost home." A glance in the mirror showed Vickie setting up for the turn behind me. "Tell Vickie that there are marked visitor's slots a couple down from mine. The other tenants can be real bastards if you take their parking spots." I reluctantly retrieved my hand and brought us into the parking lot for the apartment complex where I lived, wheeling up in front of the four-story where my apartment was located. "Usually, I back in," I related, "But I don't want to confuse Vickie." Irma made no reply; she was busy tucking her bra into the bag of goodies from the sex shop. I came around the back of the car and popped open the passenger door, then looked around to check on Vickie. Vickie wheeled up two slots over - which wasn't far enough. "Vickie!" I shouted. "Not there! They call the guy who owns that one Oscar the Grouch, and believe me, you don't wanna meet him!"

"No?" Irma queried as I handed her out of the car.

"No," I confirmed. "If Vickie runs afoul of Oscar, she might discover BDSM!" I got the chuckle again with that one.

We went inside, me holding the door for the women. I couldn't quite figure out what we were gonna do with Vickie - I wanted no part of her. Things were gonna get strained, fast. Now, there was nothing objectively wrong with Vickie - I had buddies who would stand in line to take care of her action - but I'd made commitments to Irma, and I'd been damned happy with the returns, thus far. I knew better than to try to add Vickie to the mix - it would end up diluted, and everything would flush. 'So, what the fuck do I do with her?' I wondered, as we tramped up the stairs. "Sorry," I apologized, "I have a small place, on the top floor." We wandered down he hall, and I punched through between the girls to get to my door and unlock it before they arrived. I took a quick glance inside, and breathed a sigh of relief - I couldn't remember how bad a mess I'd left. I had a studio; to the left was the living area, a couch and a chair facing the entertainment center along the left wall. Along the back wall was the kitchen area (dirty dishes in the sink weren't stacked TOO high, thank God!) and to the right was the bath along the back wall (the only fully enclosed area in the place) and the bedroom - not much more than a niche with bed and a small TV at the foot on the dresser. "This is it," I announced, primarily to Vickie, "As you can see, there is no bondage gear visible, and I've cleaned up the bloodstains after my last conquest." I eyed Vickie with some asperity, while Irma wandered over to the couch and dropped the bag on the coffee table, then bent over and started digging stuff out. She laid out the vibe and its various tips on the table, then collected the movies and stepped around it, headed for my VCR/DVD player. I watched this for a moment, kind of bemused, then returned my attention to Vickie. "Uh, Vickie, okay, you know where I live, and you've had a look around. Irma and I are gonna make out; if you hang around for that, there could be, uh, general embarrassment."

"Yeah," Vickie smiled nastily, "and if I hang out long enough, maybe nothing will happen!"

I had no answer for this - but Irma did! "Vickie, Mike and I are gonna go nuts on each other, and probably fuck like bunnies. If you insist on hanging out, and you mess with us for anything less than Mike chasing me with a butcher knife, we won't leave here friends! You understand?"

I just stood there with my mouth open. The look on Vickie's face was priceless. Finally, she burst out, "Irma, you sound like a total slut! Jeezus!"

"Well?" Irma retorted. "When he hasn't had to deal with you, and could concentrate on me, Mike's been real nice! And he's bent over backwards over YOUR sorry ass! I'm here, and it's a LOT more than I expected to accomplish when we walked in that store! I'm here and I'm gonna enjoy myself - and if you fuck it up..." Irma's face started working, and I went on red alert - this was bad, no question! I threw myself across the room, and grasped Irma's shoulders from behind, slowly turning her around and tucking her in as those shoulders shook. I held her there for a bit, rubbing her back and glaring daggers at Vickie, then I pointedly ignored her as I lowered my lips to Irma's neck. Gooseflesh rippled, and Irma very quickly stopped sniffling and started writhing slowly. "Ummmmm, how can a girl stay unhappy when you're doing THAT!"

I wasn't complaining. Irma was soft and curvy, and the parts of her I was feeling rub against me had my cock emulating an iron pipe! "Let's go sit down," Irma suggested breathlessly, and, wordless, I drew her around the coffee table to the couch. Irma unleashed a short glare at Vickie and grated, "If you insist on waiting for the axe to fall, go sit over there! I'm gonna ignore you, and I'm gonna do my best to see to it that Mike does, too!" I watched Vickie settle into the side chair, then turned toward Irma - I planned to pointedly ignore the little snit. Irma puckered her lips and closed her eyes, and it became real easy to do - the next time I surfaced, I had two handfuls of breast flesh, and Irma was panting, "Mike, take those damned jeans off!" I backed off, and reached for my fly - but it was already open, so I hopped up and started to shuck out of them, leaving my boxers on. Irma sat up, executed some flip, and her top went flying toward the bedroom. I just stood there, transfixed, one foot hung up in my jeans leg. I'd been right - Irma's breasts weren't calendar girl stuff; they were kind of lumpy looking, and loose and saggy - but they were big, and they sported a pair of really nice nipples that my fingers had already found and approved of. I managed not to fall on my face and bored back in, laying lips on the left one and starting a gentle chew. "Uuuuummmmmm," Irma moaned, and laid back flat, her head supported by the couch arm. I snatched a pillow for her neck without letting go of her chewy bud. I worked it a couple of minutes, Irma holding my head in place, and when she let up, I reared up, snatched off my sweatshirt, and went after the other. A couple of minutes later, she drew me up to her cherry red face and panted, "Touch me!"

I took her lips and slid my hand over a surprisingly hard belly - that womanly curve WASN'T soft flab; it was rigid, panting muscle - under the waistband of her pants and into a jungle of kinky curls, drawn to a valley of humid warmth. My middle finger slipped over the pubic bone, and was immediately sliding alongside a ridge of firm pulsing flesh. I pinned Irma's clit between my middle and index fingers, and Irma moaned into my mouth and undulated beneath me. I had to break the kiss to hold my position; when I backed off, her eyes flew open and she hissed urgently, "Promise me you're gonna fuck me!"

Instinctively, I knew what she wanted. I leaned forward, continuing to work my fingers on her clit, and murmured, "I'm gonna fuck your brains out! I'm gonna put my hot rod in your swampy pussy and turn your insides to butter!" That's all it took; Irma's eyes rolled up and she clutched me to her while her hips rolled and my hand became soaking wet from the boiling fluids pouring out of her opening. I kept the hand moving, and gently sank my teeth into her neck and she keened wordlessly, arching herself despite my weight on her.