Chapter 4

Friday found both of them off-stride. Pamela somehow managed to get a mid-afternoon appointment with her doctor, who confirmed her plight and offered advice: "Get all of the tests, Hon. At your age, a first pregnancy is going to be a bear, and all kinds of things could go wrong. You don't want to saddle yourself with a child that requires special measures at this point in your life."

Pamela eyed her thoughtfully. "What do you advise, then?"

The doctor, a somewhat heavy, florid woman, pushed her eyeglasses back up and replied, "The SAFEST thing would be to terminate the pregnancy - but, all things being equal, there is no reason that you can't have a perfectly healthy, normal child."

"How long do I have to decide?"

"I'd say about six weeks. It can be done after that, but there will be more difficulties and roadblocks. What about the father?" The doctor eyed Pamela closely - her marital status was well known to her.

Pamela shrugged. "I won't know for sure until tonight, but he hasn't screamed and yelled yet."

"I wouldn't do this alone, even if the child is one hundred percent perfect," the doctor advised. "Child rearing is for younger folks, and definitely not for one woman alone."

"I'll bear that in mind." The pair exchanged a few pleasantries, and Pamela reported to the receptionist to schedule a battery of tests, and then headed home.

Alan had a plane ride and the attendant airport issues. The plane departed at six, but Alan would need to leave no later than three-thirty to make everything happen smoothly. He stuck his head in his supervisor's door, "Mike? A moment?"

Alan's boss looked up, ran his fingers through his sandy brush cut, and waved him in, "What's up?"

"I'm going to scoot a bit early today - got a plane to catch."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Uh, Mike? Any chance I might wangle a transfer to the city?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Could be, what with the new project getting underway there. Why the city? Not my thing - pricey."

Alan went poker-faced. "Met a woman."

"Like that, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Flying to the city?"

"Uh huh."

Mike pondered a bit. Giving advice on sex and romance to a guy almost a decade older seemed a waste. "I'll check. You're better off dragging her here, though. Cheaper."

"I'll look at that, too." A quick glance said they were done, and Alan went back to his desk. An hour later, he started the run for the airport.

Airport security was less of an issue than expected, and the flight was uneventful. Alan entered the more public areas of the airport, headed for baggage claim, and began wondering where he was going to be met, when he picked up Margot out of the corner of his eye - and a good thing, too, because the woman next to her wasn't immediately recognizable. Pamela had colored out her gray wisps, and was wearing a flowing, calf-length skirt over two inch heels with a narrow strap, rather than a tube skirt over sensible shoes. Above, the blouse was short-sleeved, open-necked, thin, and red - and it stood out over two sharp points, despite the hint of black lace visible at her neckline. Alan was frankly amazed - she looked a whole lot less dowdy than he remembered. "Hi."

Pamela was equally reserved, out of her various fears. What was his position, going in? And what did he think of the 'new' Pamela? "Hi."

Margot looked on, amused. THEY might not know what they were up to, but SHE did. "Ready?"

Alan glanced up from his examination of Pamela. "I checked a bag - just a moment." He turned toward baggage claim, leaving the women to share a startled glance - he checked a bag for a weekend trip? Margot shrugged and the pair followed Alan to baggage claim, which turned out not to be TOO odious. Bag in hand, Alan followed the pair to the parking garage, where the couple settled awkwardly into the back seat of Margot's Chevy.

The car ride lasted about twenty minutes; Pamela and Alan spend most of it slowly edging toward one another on the back seat. Finally, Alan laid his hand over Pamela's, and they both relaxed. "So, where are we going?" Alan asked.

"Our house," Margot replied from the front seat. "Privacy seems more important than a neutral location, don'tcha think?"

Alan eyed her. Was there a bit of malice there? But Pamela was telegraphing anxiety, so he let it go, and settled back. "You're probably right."

There was a muffled beep, and Alan fished out his PDA. "Damn! Haven't got this thing trained yet."

Pamela glanced over, and Margot's eyes took in things through the rearview. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," Alan groused. "I switched platforms and this thing does reminders differently than the old one."

Pamela looked at the device more closely, comparing it to the one Alan had used to take down her phone number. It was markedly different, and had that shiny 'new' look to it. Pamela's eyes locked with Margot's in the mirror; Margot's eyes were crinkled in mirth. Pamela contented herself with, "Nice," which was all Margot needed to know that it was new. Alan tapped the screen a couple of times and put it away, grumbling, "There has to be a default somewhere..."

Ten minutes later, they were settling in the living room of the house Pamela and Margot shared, Alan on the couch and Pamela facing him across the coffee table. "I was pretty stupid," Pamela ventured.

"Well, I had a responsibility, too, and I ignored it because I figured you had it covered, and that mentioning it would derail you. After the first time, it didn't seem important..."

"Well, it was..." Pamela mused, "But I think it happened that first night."

"What are you thinking?" Alan ventured, "Do you want to keep the baby?"

Pamela toyed with the wineglass Margot had delivered to her before retiring out of sight. "All things being equal, yes. It's probably my only shot at motherhood. But there are a lot of things that have to go right before I can really think about it."

"Like what?" Alan inquired. "Why don't you start with things that DON'T hinge on me, and we'll go from there..."

"Um, okay," Pamela replied. "Well, first, I'm going to want to do ALL the tests. At my age, there are certain risks, both to the child and to me. I don't want to bring a child into the world with problems that keep either of us from having any quality of life, and I don't really want to endanger myself too much. Those are the obvious things." Suddenly her examination of the wineglass took on more focus; with a mild wince, she firmly set it down, distancing herself from it.

"Okay. That makes sense. What's next?"

"Um, after that, I think you're involved," Pamela hazarded timidly.

THAT was quick! "Okay, let's hear it, then." Alan wasn't giving anything away, yet.

"I... can't go it alone," Pamela murmured. "Single motherhood is for YOUNG mothers - I'd need a lot of help keeping up."

"Okay, let's start with the minimums, then," Alan responded. "Financial support?"

Pamela squared her shoulders. "Not enough," she declared. "I'd have to hire a nanny or something, and who knows just what she'd be teaching our child while I was out working? It's unsatisfactory, and expensive."

"You want to quit working? Do the full-time parenting thing?" Alan asked, surprised.

"Well, no, maybe not, but I don't think leaving the child in the care of a stranger all day and half the night is smart, either. I'd hate to have to answer to you for odd behavior. I'm... not exactly a total success story, and I know NOTHING about being a parent. I sure don't want to spend a lot of lonely nights wondering if I'm doing anything right."

"So you want active assistance?" Alan quirked an eyebrow.

"I think I'd have to have it to pull the thing off," Pamela responded diffidently.

"Like what? Me stopping by a couple of times a week to baby-sit?" Alan chided.

"You're teasing me." Pamela started to get that feeling of congestion that presages tears. "All right; we'd have to, um, live under one roof. There, I said it! I laid out the whole man-trap! Satisfied?"

"You're right," Alan countered. "I was teasing." He slid forward and took Pamela's hand. "Look, I can't do this just for the child. We have to have a relationship, first - it won't work, otherwise. Do we?"

"I-I think so."

"Really? We were on our way out..."

"That was circumstance - wasn't it?" Pamela challenged.

"Yeah," Alan admitted. "Still, without the child..."

"Okay, so I'm an idiot. But I thought..."

"Yeah, well, THAT was on me - but I couldn't fix it!" Alan countered.

"Would you have?"

Alan got wary. He was going to commit to something, here, if he wasn't careful. "I was going to take the next step... But there ARE other issues - distance... Things would have been difficult..."

Pamela nodded, equally wary. "At some point - relatively early - there would have to have been commitments. This doesn't change that. Question is, would we? Can we?"

Damn! The ball was back in Alan's court! "I... might have considered it..."

Pamela pounced. "Might have? Or would have?"

Uh uh. Not so fast... "What about YOU?"

Damn! "I... would have."

"Okay, me too," Alan conceded, "But would you have DONE it?"

"I... don't know."

"It was - IS - a bit early to be talking marriage," Alan pointed out. "We need more time... especially after the separation."

"That's... limited," Pamela murmured reluctantly. "I have six, maybe eight weeks."

"Yeah," Alan grunted. "Well, to be fair, the other factors would probably have driven a decision in that amount of time, anyway. The baby isn't necessarily driving THAT train." Alan paused a moment. "It appears that I have veto powers."

"Yes. Sort of. By default." Pamela wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I can't allow the child to run things - it wouldn't be fair to US!" Alan announced. At Pamela's cringe, he continued, "We're going to have to hold the issue in abeyance until we're sorted out. That is if you WANT to sort us out..."

Dammit! How did I get the ball again? "I do. I'd have wanted to, anyway..."

"Me, too," Alan grinned. "It's a second chance I didn't think I'd get." He tugged at her hand. "So, we're dating?"

Pamela allowed herself to be pulled from the chair. "Uh huh." She settled onto the couch next to him and had time for a short, freighted glance before he took her lips.

Margot backed away from her vantage point, nodding. The pair hadn't acted stupid, either way, and things seemed to be progressing satisfactorily. She went out to the car and collected Alan's case from the trunk. He wasn't going anywhere.

Alan recognized the clump of the overnight case hitting the floor when Margot returned with it. "What's this?" He eyed Pamela, "Where am I staying, then?"

Pamela blushed red, but it was Margot who answered, "I'm guessing Pamela's room. The choices are there and the spare room, and I don't see any obvious reason for the latter."

"You didn't arrange for a hotel?"

"Naw." Margot grinned. "I could tell over the phone you weren't coming here to be an asshole - you could have done that from there! Getting a room was a waste of time and an unnecessary expense." The look she gave him dared him to deny it. "Now if Sweetie, here, wants to play REALLY fair, you can stay in the spare room - it's made up - but, personally, I think it's a stupid idea."

Alan eyed Pamela, but she wisely held her peace. To openly agree with Margot was to bait a serious man-trap - not that Margot hadn't done it already! But Margot's comments had also penetrated the illusion that Alan was operating in a neutral manner, too, soooo... "My choice, then?" Pamela nodded dumbly, not trusting herself to speak. Alan could lie about it to himself and to Pamela, but there was no good reason to do so; rising, he pulled Pamela to her feet, "Then let's go to bed." Margot picked up and handed him the case as the pair passed on their way to the stair.

Pamela dragged herself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom on weak legs. Alan had bent her like a pretzel at least twice - not that the results hadn't been fully worth the effort! Both of them might be sidelined after that final effort at three a.m. - Alan had gone FOREVER, and she'd lost count of the cums before he finally collapsed atop her. The clock said after nine, but her body said six, maybe. She came back from the bathroom to find Alan watching her with one open eye. "Want some coffee?"

"Do I have to move soon?" Alan moaned.

Pamela chuckled. "I think you'd better - you don't want to get stiff... A shower ought to help; I don't know why we decided to make up for a month in one night!"

Alan grinned. "Well, now we can think about other things, maybe - like chiropractors." He grimaced, stretching. "I'll wait here."

Pamela collected a nightie that was essentially a long T-shirt and shrugged into it, forgoing panties. If she hadn't been pregnant she would have been after THAT bout! She waddled out, still gooey even after the bathroom break - sex was great, but it was sure messy! Alan watched her leave with a certain satisfaction; he could get used to seeing that ass peek from under a nightie. What would pregnancy do to those points decorating the front?

Downstairs, Pamela found Margot seated at the table, haggard, clutching a coffee cup as if it were a life preserver. "What happened to you?"

Margot summoned energy for a weak glare. "My bedroom is under yours. I think my vibrator burnt out! Three o'clock? The man's merciless! And that moan you make raises the hair on my arms!"

Pamela laughed. "Sorry!"

Margot produced a feral grin. "I'm gonna get even!" she simpered. "I called Vern, and he said he'd be more than happy to come over and handle things! You two can listen to US for a while!" Margot's face changed. "Seriously, how's it going?"

Pamela's smile went beatific. "He missed me - a lot! We're pretending that the baby isn't an issue, but I think the PDA thing just put us behind schedule, anyway."

"Well, there's still geography..." Margot pointed out.

"Yeah. We're aware." Pamela mused a second. "So, you broke down and called Vern."

"Yeah." Margot eyed her friend for a moment. "I know you don't approve..."

"It's not that," Pamela protested. "Vern seems... nice enough. Other people, though..."

"Well, he's the best I've ever had," Margot declared, "and that's not just between the sheets!"

"Well, black guys have a reputation for sweet-talk. Be careful!" Pamela warned, turning to the coffee pot.

"I will," Margot agreed, "but he's the front-runner around here, by a good distance! I've kept him at arm's length this long, but I don't know how much longer I can do it. Better get used to him."

Pamela nodded. Margot would do as she wished - but a black? She might as well tattoo 'SLUT' across her forehead! Vern was a nice enough fellow, but outsiders wouldn't know that... The rationalization petered out while she added creamer to her coffee. She'd learned on their week together that Alan took his black - something that made her grimace to think about - but, hey, she couldn't screw it up...

The knock on the door came as she was collecting the cups. Margot got up and went ahead of her to open the door. Vern stood there in the opening. "Hey, Baby, so what was it made you break down and call me?"

Margot backed off and waved him in. "My other three boyfriends are busy," she returned airily, then stuck her tongue out at him. "Actually, I couldn't come up with an excuse to do without any longer - especially since Pamela and her beau have been keeping me up all night fucking like bunnies!"

Vern's glance raked over a blushing Pamela, and kept going, despite the revealing getup. "So, um, Alan's here?" Pamela didn't have any other boyfriends, did she?

"Yeah," Margot confirmed. "He flew in last night. They had... things... to discuss."

Vern eyed Margot's skinny girlfriend, and Pamela's blush returned. Vern's look said he knew EXACTLY what the couple were discussing; the mild disgust that tinged his expression said 'dumb cunt' almost verbally - but the words never passed his lips: he merely nodded and returned his attention to Margot. Vern had sensed early on that Pamela had racial issues; her lack of the amount of sense required to maintain birth control merely lowered his opinion of the stuffy, inhibited bitch even more. But she was Margot's friend, so she must have SOME redeeming feature... Vern made a mental note to have a short talk with Alan, advising him not to let her use a baby to rope him in.

Margot watched Pamela wilt under Vern's non-verbal reproof and stepped in - the pair weren't going to get along without some kind of social lubricant. "Well, they're basically taking up where they left off. Alan lost Pamela's phone number, didn't he, Sweetie?"

"Yeah," Pamela murmured. "Sounds lame, but we're pretty sure it's true, nonetheless."

Vern raised an eyebrow in polite disbelief, and Margot supplied, "He had one of those PDA things and broke it at the airport." Vern blinked. Even a cheap PDA cost a couple hundred - no wonder the girls believed him! Either he had deep pockets, or he was telling the truth...

Pamela took the vindication of Vern's change of expression and moved on past, headed up the stair. "Have a good time..." Vern glanced up and got one helluva crotch shot; Pamela had basically forgotten about her lack of panties or she'd have never essayed the stairs in Vern's presence.

Margot caught the glance and chuckled. "You're not here for hers - Alan's taking care of that - you're here for mine!" Pamela picked up the byplay and flashed a surprised glance behind her as Vern looked away guiltily.

Vern figured he'd better make some response - even though her pussy was about the only thing he found appetizing about that scrawny slip, Pamela. "So what happened that you got all the way to V in your little black book?"

Margot returned the look, deadpan. "Okay, so I opened it there. I wanted the job done right, by somebody with manners... Of course, if you're gonna spend all your time scoping my girlfriends..."

"That one?" Vern grunted. "She's got issues. The chances of us getting together are pretty damned slim."

Margot arched a brow. "And me?"

Vern grinned, "Stand still and I'll get ya!"

"Promises, promises." Margot took Vern's hand and led him to the nearby couch. "Put your cock where your mouth is!"

"Here?" Vern blinked, surprised.

But Margot was already in the process of shrugging out of her housecoat. "Here. Those two kept me up half the night, listening to them make like bunnies. If we go to my room, they won't be able to hear as well, and I can't get even!" She started undoing Vern's belt. "So you're gonna bend me over the arm of the couch, here, and make me noisily happy. Okay?" Vern's jeans settled toward his ankles, his boxers running with them, collected by Margot's thumbs.

"Awright." Hell, he was undressed, already! "Warm me up and gimme those tits!" Margot knelt and enveloped his already stiffening shaft, pulling back only to rip her nightgown over her head. While Margot's tongue spread liquid heat along the underside of his shaft, Vern toed off his running shoes and stepped out of the puddle of his jeans and shorts while kneading Margot's fat nipples.

Margot moaned around Vern's lengthening probe. It wasn't chocolate, but it was clean and hot and sweet in her mouth - she'd had a lot worse from white guys! Pamela was SUCH a prude... Fingers that worked her nipples firmly, but not painfully, had her sopping wet in moments; Vern shifted a bare foot between her thighs and came away with a wet toe, grinning. Vern put a hand behind her head and drove her onto the shaft, going for the throat. Margot gurgled a bit, but such was her arousal that the abuse only awakened submission; she turned eyes full of it toward Vern, who recognized the emotion for what it was. He released her and she backed off, coughing, but re-engaged almost immediately, eyes on his the whole time. He released her head, and murmured, "Let's do it," assisting her to stand by grasping an elbow.

Margot got up and bent over her couch arm, and Vern stepped up to rub his swollen glans over her soaking labia. There was no question where the target was - her slit was sopping! Vern nosed his cock to her opening and pushed, surprised anew that such a big woman should be tight and sweet instead of loose and sloppy. He was buried in two strokes, but Margot's inner lining held him gently all along his length. Vern had had women he could have driven a truck into - and fisted a couple - but Margot was NOT a member of THAT group. This was some sweet ass!

Margot was also happy with the fit. When Vern took her doggie-style like this, his glans just bumped the gates to her womb on a particularly hard in-stroke. All in all, that made things just about perfect. She sighed and relaxed as his driving rhythm promised an end to several hours of serious frustration. "Oh. Lord, did I need THIS! Ummm! Ummm!"

Upstairs, Alan was rallying under the effects of strong black coffee. Pamela had delivered it and wrinkled her long nose as he took his first slurp, "Ugh! I don't know HOW you do that without putting something in it!"

Alan grinned back, "I don't know why you add that glop to perfectly good coffee! I could understand Starbuck's - you can cut that stuff with a knife! But this?" He soaked in another life-giving jolt. "What's going on downstairs?"

Pamela's laugh tinkled. "Margot says we kept her up and frustrated all night - so she called Vern! He was just arriving..." She sipped reflectively. "He soaked up the reason you came from the merest hint, and let me know pretty clearly that it didn't raise his opinion of me."

"He knows you disapprove of him, Dear. That's not going to be conducive to his being friendly."

Pamela frowned. "It's not him, per se. It's what others will think of Margot if she takes up with him. He seems to be a decent sort..."

"So you'd fuck him?"

"Uh," Pamela blushed. "No."

Alan eyed her gravely. "Margot doesn't seem to care about his color - why should you?"

Pamela looked uneasy. "It's the whole white slut - black superstud stereotype. Margot says he's just a nice guy, but others will have that on their mind when they see her with him."

"Including you?" Alan prodded.

"Okay, maybe. That and the other stereotype that goes with it: Black man gets even with whitey by turning his women into sex slaves." Pamela admitted.

"Oh?" Alan prodded. "You see that happening to you?"

"If you weren't around? Yes." She refused to meet Alan's eyes. Alan chuckled and slid his free hand up her thigh, laying his thumb along the fold of flesh that hid her clitoris. As he began to work the thumb, she shivered and returned her attention to him. "God, again?"

Alan's eyelids drooped. "Maybe."

An ethereal "Ooooh, Lord! Ummmm! Ummm!" drifted up the stairs, accompanied by the rhythmic impact of flesh on flesh.

"Margot couldn't wait?" Alan wondered aloud.

"She's teasing us, trying to get even," Pamela replied. "She probably had Vern take her right in the living room!" More sounds of male and female joy floated up the stairs.

Alan's cock began to rise under the impetus of the happy sounds and the visible effects of his thumb manipulations on Pamela's clit. "Well, it's working! But there's nothing stopping us from staying ahead!"

"Okay." Pamela's eyes began to go glassy as an urgent "Oog! Oog! Oog!" floated up the stair. She had opened her stance and was now flexing her knees a bit to facilitate Alan's access. Alan's fingers were already damp with her juices; it was amazing how hair-trigger her responses were! "How?" she breathed.

Alan put down his cup and tossed back the sheets, exposing his erection. "You can ride on top." He knew what that opportunity for total control of her pleasure would do to her - she'd climax almost immediately. He was going to take a while - maybe QUITE a while - might as well let her get him started... Pamela dropped her cup on the nightstand and moved to straddle facing him, but Alan directed, "No! Turn around!" If she faced away, penetration would be deeper, and if she gave in to the urge to slide back and forth rather than up and down she would be driving herself onto his cock rather than trying to warp it while she rubbed his pubic bone. Besides, he could get at her ass this way...

Pamela got the point almost immediately, as Alan's erection went deep into her and her clitoris settled into the furry junction with his balls rather than bashing his pubic bone. She set her hands on his thighs just above his knees for support, and began to rock. Almost immediately, the waves began to surge, amplified by Margot wailing "Lordy! Lordy! Lordy! Uuuhhh!" from downstairs.

Margot was fast approaching her first climax of the session, and Vern was gritting his teeth, wondering if it was going to be possible to get past it. She'd dropped her head low, and her pubic bone was rubbing the underside of Vern's cock, effectively tightening her grip even more. As her channel began to pulse with her release, Margot wailed. "Oh, Lord, Vern, why did I make you stay away? Oh! Oh! Yes! Yes! OH, LOOOORRRRRD!"

The stimulation was too much - Vern let go, sending three mighty pulses of semen splashing against Margot's cervix. The feel of it brought Margot another pulsing surge, which further milked Vern's pulsing cock. Vern, recovering fairly quickly, began to rub Margot's back, squeezing and kneading, asked mildly, "So, why DID you push me away?"

Margot, still adrift, momentarily lacked the ability for critical thinking. "Stupid. Didn't want you to realize..." The lights came on, and she shut up, abruptly.

"Realize what?"

"Uuhh, nothing..."

Vern resumed stroking; his cock, which had developed some flexibility, resumed a gratifying firmness after a couple of strokes. Margot, whose first cum had enervated her rather than granting her complete release, moaned. Vern, recognizing the situation, grinned. He ran a few strokes, feeling Margot's response pick up in urgency, and probed. "Wasn't 'nothing'. What wasn't I supposed to figure out?" He gave her another couple of strokes, and slacked off, demanding, "Talk, Woman!"

"Uuuhhh! Don't stop!" Margot drove herself back on his erection, pushing off with her forearms, trying to maintain the pace.

Vern resumed for just long enough to collect Margot's sigh of relief, then stopped again. "I'm waiting!" This time, he threatened full withdrawal.

"No! No! Okay! Okay!" Margot wailed. "I didn't want you to realize you were getting under my skin!"

"That's bad?" Vern queried, resuming. "Howcum?"

"C'mon!" Margot wheezed, "I'm no catch!"

Vern let it go, concentrating on his lovemaking. Silly twat! 'I'm no catch!' Here he was, balls deep in some of the sweetest pussy he'd ever had, and the silly bitch announces she's supposedly worthless! Fact was, Margot was one sweet bitch! She had a sense of humor, was even-tempered, practical, and she loved to fuck - if there was a downside to her, Vern couldn't see it. Okay, she was a little chunky - Vern had had a lot worse, and bad tempered to go with it! Big fat titties... He LOVED those fucking things - had at first sight! He could chew those nips for hours! The fact that the woman appeared to have a brain in her head was a big, fat bonus! Ah, well...

Pamela was humming. Clear sounds of orgasm from Margot downstairs layered themselves over the incredible feel of Alan's thick cock as she moved on it to bring her rapidly to a plateau from which orgasm seemed attainable at will. Pamela took it easy, savoring the final ascent and attempting to draw it out, but slowing down didn't help; her control of the situation undid her as she instinctively went for the sliding motion that maximized both penetration and clitoral contact. "Oh, God..."

Alan grinned and pushed her over forward a bit so he could rub a thumb over the bud of her anus and Pamela came unglued. "Aaahhh, God! Oooohhhh!" Alan's push had increased her clitoral contact even more, and that thumb just added a dimension. "Nnnnnnnn!" she wailed through gritted teeth as the lights began to flash and electricity began to flow along her nerves. WAAAAAA! Yes! Yes! Yes!" She began to surge, bucking in a mix of muscle lock and involuntary spasms. God! It just kept getting better!

Pamela went momentarily slack and Alan took up the assault from below, holding her hips steady and watching her sphincter pulse. Yeah, that was a good one... He was a bit sore, but the itch to find his instinctual release superseded any minor discomforts. Besides, feeling Pamela thrash out her climax was worth it, all by itself! He flicked his hips, maintaining a steady rhythm, until Pamela began to shakily resume her own movements.

Margot was well along, rising to her second climax, when the loud exclamations heralding Pamela's orgasm floated down the stairs. Pamela let go with her final wail and Vern watched goose bumps rise on Margot's arms. Suddenly, she was driving backward with gusto, wailing, "Oh, Lord! Gimme that cock, Vern! Gimme! Gimmee! GimMEEEEEE!!!" Margot stiffened and began to shake uncontrollably. Vern kept pounding, grinning, eliciting a strained "Huh! Huh! Hunh!" from Margot's tight lungs. After a long moment, Margot's knees gave way and she settled over the couch arm as overloaded muscles relaxed. "Ooh, Lord!" she gasped, "Please, God, don't tell me you're gone! I couldn't stand it!"