Clara felt a tingle down deep in her cunt and attributed it to nerves. Her small suitcase bobbed in Wil's easy grasp as he led the way down the hallway to his apartment. She couldn't stop wondering if he had really meant what he had said, or if he had just been talking through his hat.
The strangely shaped, high-ceiling room was certainly hot enough. She dropped her coat, draped it over the arm of one of the easy chairs. She checked her reflection in the mirror on the sliding door of the tiny kitchen. The apartment was in an old brownstone which had once housed a single family. Years before the building had been hacked up into apartments. Bathrooms and kitchens were crammed into unlikely nooks and corners.
"Can I get you a drink?" Wil asked after taking his coat off.
"How about one of your famous whiskey sours?" Clara asked, trying to ignore the sweat on her palms. Cripes, she was acting as if she was still a virgin or something. Probably he wouldn't really do it. She leaned against the doorframe, and watched as he poured out two frothing sours.
"Here," he said, handing her one glass. "Why don't you go out and make yourself comfortable? Put on some music, and take off something else, if you want." He chuckled nervously.
"Maybe later," she mumbled uncomfortably. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked, for the tenth time. "I mean, if you mind, I won't do it."
"I don't mind," she said, wishing that he'd just do it and quit asking. Neither of them was a virgin. It wasn't like they hadn't seen it all before.
Just the same, when he emerged from the kitchen, naked, his bobbing hard-on leading the way, she felt a hot burning itch down deep inside her. She took a huge gulp of her drink. When she managed to rip her eyes off his swaying cock she was glad to see he had a fresh shaker of sours in his hand.
"Really feels a hell of a lot better," he insisted. "If you want to do it, too, feel free."
"Maybe a little later," Clara murmured, and sought refuge in her drink. She couldn't take her eyes off his cock. Just the sight of his pink-capped ivory column made her cunt water.
"Been a nudist ever since I got this apartment," Wil went on, sitting down in the other easy chair. His cock stood up like a pole in his lap. With forced casualness, he slouched back and sipped his drink.
"You could turn the heat down," Clara noted, resisting the urge to start playing a game of ring toss with his dick and her bracelets.
"Impossible," he retorted. Then he grinned. "Besides, then I wouldn't have an excuse for running around naked."
He didn't look bad without any clothes. He was trim and firm. His cock jutted up from a thick light brown bush. His chest was virtually hairless. A glistening clear drop of juice appeared at the tip of his dick as he twirled his drink in his hand.
Clara was sweating. Partly from the beat, partly from the drink, and partly from nerves. She gulped down more of the burning, puckery sour. She felt a hot tingle in her crotch as she contemplated shedding her clothes. She knew what it would lead to. She thought of stripping naked, slowly, while he watched, and her insides knotted up. She couldn't do that, somehow.
"How about some music?" Wil asked.
"Sure," Clara answered, her mouth dry. "Anything's fine."
She watched his dick bob and wave as he walked over to the record player. His pale, tight ass was toward her as he bent over to start the music. She could see his balls between his legs.
His dick leading the way, he came back toward her. She had a mad urge to spread her legs and invite the plunge. Her cunt spasmed at the thought of being speared by his jutting tower. She wasn't a virgin, but she wasn't exactly experienced either. Just enough to get horny at the sight of his cock. She hadn't ever been to bed with him, although they had been dating for several months. It wasn't the first weekend she had spent in his apartment, even. But before, always, there had been clothes between them, even in sleep.
She could still keep clothes between them.
"Hot in here," she observed. She fought the urge to ask him if he would mind if she got naked. That, after all, had been his tiresome line.
"Feel free."
"Thanks," she answered tightly.
"Know what I'd like to do sometime? Take some pictures of you," he said thoughtfully.
"You've taken lots of pictures of me."
"I mean some nudes."
"Oh, come on," she snorted, thinking of how she looked naked. "I'm fat."
"You're not fat. You just have a nice softness to your curves."
"Well, anyway, no pictures." She didn't contradict his assumption that she was going to be nude in a few minutes. Because he was right – she would be. Suddenly, she needed to pee.
"Excuse me," she said, setting her second drink aside and getting up. She started to weave drunkenly, then controlled herself. In the bathroom, where she couldn't see his jutting cock, she felt a wave of relief… and a twinge of regret, too.
As the water swirled in the toilet, she fiddled nervously with her clothes. Then she took a shaky but resolute breath. Her twat sizzled in anticipation and her guts knotted as she shed her clothes. She glanced in the mirror. Maybe she wasn't fat, but she definitely had a layer of padding. Her pleasantly rounded breasts had faint creases on the undersides. Her pink nipples stiffened with excitement as she watched. She sucked in her gut and studied her muff. It was a delicate brown, almost the same shade as the hair on her head.
"Nice legs," she muttered, pointing her toe, putting off the inevitable. She wondered where her relationship with Wil was going.
She took a long time hanging up her clothes. Then, her pussy seeping excitedly, she grasped the doorknob in one sweaty hand. She stepped out and felt his eyes fasten on her as she crossed the room. In a half daze, she felt warm air touch her, all over.
"Come here," Wil invited, indicating his lap, with its jutting cock.
Clara bit her lip, and changed course. Self-consciously, she sat down on his legs. His cock was a hot bar against her hip. She sat very straight. His arm went around her naked back. Her tits were at the same level as his chin. His eyes were on the pink nubbins. She took her glass, and gulped down the burning booze.
"Who's your friend?" she asked finally, delicately touching his prick.
"His name's George," Wil answered, glancing down at his cock.
"Hello, George. It's a pleasure to meet you," Clara joked tensely, grasping his cock and giving it a gentle squeeze. Under the soft skin it was hard and hot and hungry.
Wil's hand cupped her ribs. She looked at him, and he looked at her, and the magnetic attraction drew her mouth to his. The kiss was innocent, until her impatience made her pry her tongue between his lips. His hand crept up her side, then slid over her naked breast. Her tit burned as their mouths continued the sucking, ravenous kiss. She tightened her grasp on his cock, and felt burning seepings sting her fingers. Her hand slid over his hot meat on a film of juices.
His hand moved from her aching breast to her thigh. She let her legs part. His fingers found her frizzy muff, probed her itching slit, stroking her warm cunt, triggered a hot wave of juice. She turned, rubbed her breast against him, made her nipple flare hotter. Burning trickles of flame surged through her guts as he fingered her cunt.
When he moved, lifting forward off the chair and guiding her to the floor, she kept her eyes squeezed shut. She pressed against him as his finger slid into her velvety tunnel. The rug was hush against her naked flesh. They stretched out on the floor, bare skin to bare skin, her hand in possession of his cock, his hand in possession of her cunt.
"Try two fingers," she moaned, squeezing his cock. The music from the record player swirled crazily, formed a background for her lust.
She felt her cunt stretch as he complied. She knew the greater bulk was going to increase her appetite. His warm palm cupped the soft mound of her pussy, gently pressing her clit against her pubic arch. His fingers stirred in her juicy cavern.
She wished he'd hurry up. She was starving for the shaft in her hand. Her gut was a solid ache of hunger. She dragged on the stiff shaft, tried to pull it toward her pussy. She imagined being spread eagled under him, pinned like a bug, while he fucked her. Her cunt flooded in reaction. She wanted him to rape her, to ravish her.
She rolled to her back, and dragged him over on top of her. She spread her thighs and pushed his hand out of the way. She guided the head of his cock to her twat and squirmed, nuzzled him into her hot crease. She hauled on his firm butt, managed to get part of his cock into her. There was a slight burning sensation because of his bulk.
"Are you safe?" he asked abruptly, pushing up. He looked down at her. His cock was tormenting her with its partial penetration.
"Yes," she moaned, managing to avoid cursing his rotten timing. "Yes. I'm on the pill."
He lay back down on her, and his cock burrowed into her cunt slowly. She writhed insanely. She wanted to get the whole mammoth thing all at once, but his hesitancy made it impossible. She wanted him to do it hard, quick and fast. But she couldn't ask him. She clutched at him, dragged on his tail. She spread her legs wide as he drilled his cock into her burning bush.
Her hips thrust up against him as he penetrated her dripping depths. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, but not as hard as she wanted them to be. He kept treating her as if she were fragile, kept holding back. He kept his full weight up off her until she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down hard. Her boobs ached deliciously from the pressure.
Finally, his cock nudged the end of her tunnel, and his pubic bone pound against her clit. She moaned ecstatically.
"You okay?" he asked anxiously.
"Fuck me," she groaned, cursing him mentally. How could someone so damn big be so damn gentle? Why couldn't he assert himself! "Fuck me," she repeated.
He drew out of her, then pushed back in. Her hips heaved under him. She convulsed from the feel of his cock sliding along her clutching cunt walls. She heaved in reaction when his pubic arch hit her clit.
"Fuck me," she moaned as his cock pistoned in her cunt. Her hips went wild, started a mad jumping, twisting motion. "Fuck me!"
He continued to push into her in a gentle, semi-mechanical manner. She was blazing from the feel of his cock pistoning in her, but wished that he would turn his animal urges loose and really hammer her.
She was rising toward a crest, but too slowly. She was being driven by the need to reach the peak, to hit the explosion point. It was like a spring was being wound tighter and tighter and tighter inside her. Finally, it would have to let go and would fly apart into glittering fragments. Every stroke of the cock in her cunt drove her nearer the breaking point, but slowly, too slowly.
Wil began panting. His breath huffed against her ear as he fucked her faster and faster. The little core of self-control in his screwing remained. He humped and humped. Then he slowed, paused, and humped again. He drove his cockhead deep into her cunt.
She moaned with frustration as she felt his cock begin to spasm. She felt the hot squirts of his semen deep inside her, and shuddered. She was just short of her own release. She clutched desperately at him. Her hips heaved and writhed as she struggled to peak. She failed. He flooded her with cream.
With a groan of exhaustion, he relaxed wearily, pressed her into the hard rug. Dissatisfaction and frustration eating at her like a worm, she lay under him and felt his cock shrivel in her velvet clutches. Then, again too soon, he heaved off of her.
They were self-conscious about their nakedness as they retreated to separate easy chairs. She couldn't help noticing that his cock was already expanding again. She wondered just how much experience Wil really had. She had known him four years, the whole time he was in college. He had graduated and was working in the city. They had started dating a few months before.
The drink tasted great. The whiskey warmed her insides as she slouched wearily. She was still horny, and was encouraged by the sight of his rapidly reviving cock. Maybe next time would be better.
"It was good, wasn't it?" he asked anxiously. "It was good," she answered, telling herself she wasn't really lying. It was only her third time after all, and it had been as good as the first two. Better than the first time… and better than the second, too.
The first time had hurt. The second time, the same night with the same guy, hadn't been much better. It had been less painful at least, but still disappointing.
"You still seeing Grant?" Wil asked.
"No." She hadn't seen him since he had taken her virginity. The carnal act had destroyed the relationship. She wondered what sex would do to her and Wil.
As they talked of this and that, she became aware of shouting from a neighboring apartment.
"Grant Powell," Wil noted, and made a sour face.
"I can replace you in five minutes, bitch!" Grant yelled. There was a low, mumbled reply.
"Five minutes. Want to see me do it? Give me the phone. I'll show you."
There was the sound of a door opening. "So go ahead and replace me!" the girl screamed. "You're crazy. I ain't gonna stay around for your kinky junk!" The door slammed and footsteps retreated down the hallway.
"Guy changes girls like I change my socks," Wil noted. "I'm hungry. How about I order a pizza?"
"Okay," Clara agreed, intrigued by the argument they had overhead.
"Any special kind?"
"No. Just no onions," she said, thinking of the hopes she had for the rest of the evening. "And no green peppers or anchovies, either."
"Plain? Or pepperoni?"
"Either's fine."
"What's your neighbor like?" Clara asked later as they settled down to eat. They were still nude. She had a hard time keeping her eyes off Wil's seemingly perpetual erection.
"He's okay, I guess," Wil answered. "Though like I said, he goes through girls at an incredible rate. And he throws wild parties."
"Wild?" Clara asked, intrigued.
"Sexy wild," Wil answered. "Orgies, really."
"Oh, have you been to one?"
"No. I just hear them sometimes. I can smell the pot, too."
"I've never smoked pot."
"Me either," Wil said. "You want that last piece of pizza?"
"It's yours," Clara said, wiping her greasy hands on a towel. They were sitting on the floor by the coffee table, leaning back against the sofa-bed. Now the hunger in her belly was satisfied, the hunger in her crotch could be dealt with. She wondered if Wil would make the first move, or if she would have to.
The whole scene was stained, unnatural. There was also a sexiness to it, sort of a slowly building pressure. The tea towel covered the sodden curls of her twat and emphasized her, nudity. Wil's cock was a rigid, towering exclamation point of horniness. But he didn't seem inclined to do anything about it.
"Hey, Wil, you in there?" Grant's voice came through the closed window and drawn blind.
"Ahhh, shit," Wil snorted, getting to his feet and going over to the window. With a clatter of slats be pushed the blind aside and raised the window. A gust of chill air raised goose-bumps all over Clara's body. She moved out of sight of the window.
"What do you want?" Wil asked.
"What're you doing?" Grant asked.
"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"
"Taking a shower?"
"Well, I'm not. My girl's here."
Clara cringed. "What's the matter? Didn't you get her replaced?" she asked acidly in retaliation for her embarrassment.
"You applying for the position?" Grant demanded.
"She isn't," Wil said quickly before Clara had a chance to get in deeper. "C'mon man, what do you want? I'm freezing my balls off."
"Hell, you never use 'em anyway," Grant taunted.
"The fuck I don't! Ask Clara."
Clara cussed him silently.
"That true, Babe? He know how to use what he's got?"
"Yes."
"If you don't want anything, I'm gonna shut this damn window," Wil announced.
"I was gonna ask you over for a drink. Guess you're not interested," Grant said.
Clara felt a twinge of disappointment and a thrill of anticipation when Wil agreed that they weren't. She wanted to meet Grant. There was a gutsy power to his voice that intrigued her. At the same time, the gnawing hunger in her cunt wanted satisfaction.
"You folks want to come to a party tomorrow night?" Grant asked.
"One of your orgies?" Wil asked warily.
"I'm just having a few intimate friends over," Grant answered.
"I don't know," Wil temporized.
"Sure, why not," Clara spoke up recklessly. After all, Grant knew what she and Wil had been doing. And anyway, if things got out of hand, she and Wil could always retreat to his apartment.
"You sure?" Wil asked her nervously.
"Yeah. It'll be fun," she answered. "Besides, we never go out. Be a nice change."
"What should we wear?" Wil asked cautiously. "Shit, just come as you are."
"Oh sure!" Wil snorted.
"Chicken?" Grant taunted. Clara liked the idea of arriving naked at a party. Then she felt ashamed of herself. It was bad enough to be sitting around naked with Wil, without contemplating any further display.
"What time should we come?" Wil asked.
"Eight or so. If you've got any grass, bring it along."
"I never touch the stuff," Wil answered. "Turkey," Grant grunted.
"Can I shut the window now?" Wil asked acidly. "Yeah. Get back to your slit," Grant growled.
"And when you're done with her, send her over for sloppy seconds, will you?"
"Not bloody likely," Wil retorted, slamming the window. "Jeez, what a character. Why did you say we'd go tomorrow?"
"Why not? It'll be fun," Clara answered. "And besides, we never do go out. All we do is sit around here all the time."
"Okay, okay," Wil said, bending over to pick up the pizza carton. "You about ready for bed?"
She was caught flat-footed by the suggestion. Then she thought about what bed might imply this time, and felt a surge of excitement. "Oh, gosh, I don't know. I think I'd like to shower first."
"Help yourself."
Clara felt a flush of aggravation at his denseness. "I thought maybe we could both shower? Together?"
"Oh. Oh? Oh!" Wil stuttered stupidly. "Yeah, might be kind of fun."
"Excuse me while I use the toilet," Clara said.
"Uh, call me when you're ready," Wil mumbled, opening the sofa-bed.
She used the pot, then turned on the hot water in the small shower stall. It had peeling painted walls. There was a film of green on the cement floor. At one time the entire kitchen-bathroom area had been the bathroom for a single bedroom. When the building had been converted, the bathroom had been restricted to the small corner containing the toilet. A metal stall shower had been crammed in with it, while the rest of the room had been made into the kitchen.
After getting the water right, she stepped in and called Wil. She let the hot river stream over her body. She shifted, made the stinging spray burn her tile.
"Gotta take a leak," Wil noted over the hissing of the shower. "No peeking, okay?"
Clara assured him she wouldn't, and fought the urge to break her promise.
When he stepped into the shower, her soapy hands were ready for him. She clutched his cock. Her fingers slithered over his tool. He gasped as she fondled his jutting pecker.
"You may wash me, if you'd like," she noted in a low, throaty voice.
As the water hammered down on her back, his hands cupped the soft mounds of her breasts. His thumbs stroked over her nipples. She smiled up at him. She moved forward a fraction, and the head of his dick poked into her stomach.
His hands slithered down her body to her pussy. She let her legs spread as he lathered her moist curls. His soapy finger slid inside her and triggered a hot wave of pleasure. As fire swept up through her, she groaned softly.
She soaped his balls, felt his little sperm eggs slide around in their sac. Then, with his finger still probing her twat, she eased aside so the shower could rinse his dick.
Her pussy drooled with hunger as his finger explored its slick folds, probed deep into her tunnel. Clara squeezed his wet cock, milked out a creaming wave of juice. Then she smeared it over his hot shaft.
Finally, promising herself she would get it where she really wanted it after the shower, she released his dick. Grabbing the soap, she bathed him from shoulders to crotch, smeared them with lather. Then he took the bar from her, and his hands spread suds all over her warm smooth flesh. His hands lingered lovingly on her full breasts.
"We could try and make it in here," he noted as he pinched her tits.
"It'd be kind of cramped."
"You don't want to?"
She wished he'd assert himself more, though she really didn't want to screw in the shower. "Maybe some other time," she answered. "Let's go to bed now. It'll only be our second time, after all."
"You weren't a virgin, were you?" he noted as they rinsed.
She debated what to answer. She didn't know how much stock he put in virginity. "Not technically," she said at last.
"What's that mean?"
"Uh, well, I mean, my hymen had already been torn," she answered vaguely. "It's fairly common for athletic girls to have it happen."
"Does it matter?"
"I guess not." He shut off the water.
"Brrr, cold out here now," she noted, grabbing a towel. She handed it to him. "Dry me off?"
After a few minutes of brisk rubbing she was pink and flushed, and acutely aware of her nakedness. She scampered across the brightly lighted room to the bed and slid under the coven.
"Want a drink? A whiskey sour?"
"Okay," she agreed, propping the pillows up behind her. The sheet just covered her breasts. She watched his cock sway as he crossed the room. She shivered when she thought about getting that shaft again. The bed sagged as he joined her under the sheet. His skin was hot against her flank.
She let her hand rest on his upper thigh as she sipped the blazing whiskey sour. Then, teasingly, she eased her fingers over to his ready dick. She tickled it gently, lovingly. "Hi, George," she said softly.
Wil chuckled nervously, and put his hand on her sleek thigh. She shivered from the gentle caress. His fingers eased up toward her pussy. She squirmed and spread her legs so he could reach her soft, clean muff more easily.
Wil pushed the sheet down, bared her to the waist. "You have nice breasts," he noted softly, studying their smooth, pale curves, the half-hard nipples. "May I kiss them?"
"Uh-huh," she grunted.
His lips closed on one nipple, and flames lashed through her. Her hand tightened convulsively on his cock. His tongue stroked her nipple. It swelled, demanded more attention. When his finger slid into her cunt her thighs parted reflexively. She let her head drop back as he suckled on her breasts. He shifted from one to the other. The abandoned one always felt wet and cold.
As her passion built, she wondered what Grant looked like. He sounded hard, demanding. So unlike Wil, she mused. Wil was so polite and thoughtful it sometimes infuriated her. She loved him, but wished he would be a little more domineering.
Like now, for example. He was tormenting her with his slow, deliberate exploration of her pussy and the way he was nursing on her breasts. She wanted his teeth to be biting into her tender flesh. But she couldn't tell him. He had to do it himself. He had to do it without being asked.
A second finger slid into her pussy, and was greeted with a burning wave of juices. Her hips humped slowly against his hand. Her thumb painted his cock-head with pre-cum. She shoved the sheet down, exposed his cock, her pussy. His fingers still deep in her twat, he threw one leg over hers, and rolled towards her. His lips pulled away from her tit sought her mouth. This time the tongue that did the first probing was his. It slid into her mouth shyly.
His cock felt like a steel burr against her thighs.
She felt a drop of his goo on her bare flesh. She kicked the rest of the coven away so the air could touch them both, all over. The light played over her pale pink flesh. She let go of his cock and slid down farther, so she was lying down instead of being propped up by the pillows. It brought her face closer to his cock. For a brief moment, she considered sucking his dick. Then he slid downwards, and his cock moved away from her. He eased over on top of her. As she spread her thighs in welcome, she felt a twinge of disappointment that she hadn't gotten to taste his dork.
His cock probed blindly at her crotch. She reached down and guided it to her vagina. As he drilled into her soupy depths, she moaned under him. Maybe this time she would reach that glittering cascade of pleasure. She hugged him to her as he pumped his dick into her. His moves had the same hesitancy they had the first time.
Why didn't he hurt her a little? she wondered. Why didn't he drive into her impatiently, instead of throttling down his lust?
He stroked into her cunt. She heaved under him in an attempt to grind her clit into the passion paste it should be. She scratched his back as he fucked her, slowly and easily. His cock stroked her vaginal walls to warm flames.
She was rising toward that peak, but it was such a gradual rise she was afraid that she again wouldn't make it. Thank God this time his staying power was better. She went up and up and up. Her pussy began flooding as she approached the final gusher. Wil's breath was loud in her ear as he humped. The bedsprings protested the pounding fucking.
"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, I'm cuming! Uhhh. UUHHH!" The unexpectedness of the climax tore a scream of ecstasy from her. She heaved under him as her cunt spasmed around his dick. Very vaguely, in the mists of her cuming, she was aware of his dark spouting its load into her clutching hole. For an eternity, she strained against him. She wished he had more cock, so her cunt could be even fuller. Then she faded to a limp mass under him, and her climax died away with the last lingering spurts of his semen.
As she slid into a languid sleep beneath him, she wondered if Grant's parties really were orgies. The thought made her cunt twinge excitedly around Wil's exhausted dick.