pushing her insides back and forth with a rhythm as irresistible as the tide, churning her whole being with great surging waves of pink-frothed lust that had long ago drowned any thought for her future or even for her present.
She was living for love, living for the lustful gratification of each movement, living for the surge of flesh each time a cock went up her ass and pushed all her passion-swollen innards forward, living for the return stroke when that eight-inch erection came out of her asshole and a bald-headed cock entered her vagina and the internal rock- and-roll repeated the waving rolling lusting surge of all her insides.
But now there was a subtle change in that rhythm as one of her partners lost the beat. Now the entry of cock into her cunt was coming a split-second too late or too early-she was too busy coming yet again to analyze which. All she knew was that instead of a lovely lustful alternation of fullness from first front, then rear, now she was experiencing instants of total emptiness, with neither cock inside her-moments of full and complete quiescence which her straining body accepted gratefully.
But each of these respites had its price. Now, instead of one cock going into her as the other came out, she had two cocks at once going into her. Either of those tremendous, lust-engorged organs alone would have been sufficient to make the average woman throw rocks at her husband. Now Paula was getting Harry's eight inches up her ass and the red-haired man's unmeasured but more-than adequate bald-headed bargepole stuffed up her thrilled and fibrillating cunt at the same instant. It hurt but oooooohhhh Jesus didn't it ever hurt gooood!
'No!' she moaned, 'Stop, wait a minute, take it out! Ooooooohhhhh deeper, faster, quick!'
Her partners were doing their best to oblige. Each man now marched to a different drummer, working out his own destiny and making his separate peace with his piece of her ass. And Paula was in the middle. She felt her body quivering, fibrillating, so overcome with joy that she could no longer even reward them with a proper orgasm.
For minutes now she had been in such a state of sustained arousal that her whole body was in constant ecstasy, belly thrumming and quivering, cunt streaming as she surrendered to the total assault of carnal knowledge.
They were thumping her now, both lean hard bellies pulling away simultaneously, both hot hard cocks pulling out of her at the same moment. And more importantly, more devastatingly, both lean hard bodies and both stiff pricks were slamming back toward her, stuffing her full, mashing her soft round belly between them just as they filled her full unto bursting. It was hurting her, stretching her out of shape, killing her, but it felt so goooooooood!
It felt so good that suddenly she was falling backward and how could she be doing that when she was snug between two men's bodies, spiked on two cocks lest she slip out of this club sandwich of carnal delight? The telephone was ringing again and then both of the goddam telephones were ringing and both cocks were still slamming into her and it felt so good and she knew she had her eyes open but the lights had just gone out and everything was so fuzzy, so dreamy… It was just like that time with Mr. Costello.
But actually, it was not at all like the time when she had been a scrawny sixteen-year-old virgin with little to recommend her apart from the biggest pair of tits on the slimmest body in Midvale High School. That night when Mr. Costello's discourse on points of law had gradually been diverted into an analysis of exactly how it felt to touch the twin points forbidden by law on the front of her lusciously underage body Paula had found herself in the back room, on the day bed, with a naked Mr. Costello bending over her, kissing his slow and thorough way down the bare front of her body. She had been reassured by the knowledge that she was not exactly naked, that if anyone were ever to question her on this point she could always and truthfully say no, not naked. After all, she still wore her fuzzy, ankle-length sox.
And if she had to be technical about it, Paula knew she was also wearing straight blond hair on her head, slightly curly blond hair on her prominent mons veneris, and pink fingernail polish.
What she had not been prepared for was the enthusiasm with which Mr. Costello had decided to illustrate one absolutely sure way a girl would never become pregnant. Golly! How could she ever have guessed he actually intended to kiss her there?
He lay beside her now on the narrow day bed, lay beside her wrong-end-to and Paula was so overcome by a delicious and lassitudinous sense of surrender that she couldn't even muster the curiosity to open her eyes and turn her head to look at whatever it was old men have between their legs. It felt so nice just to lie here and let nice old Mr. Costello put his hands on her knees and gently spread her thighs while he kissed his way down her flat, sixteen-year-old belly, down right into the just-growing bush of blond ringlets on her bony mons veneris.
Unbelieving, practically dying of sheer delight, she felt his white mustache tickle the sensitive inner surface of one smooth thigh as he kissed his way past home base down nearly to her knee. He twisted and wriggled until he had his head behind her knee and was kissing the tender socket which years later in a personal injury suit she would learn to call a popliteal fossa. Now she could only call it groovy as he switched to the back of her other knee and sent a quiver of delight up her long slim thigh before kissing his way up that tender inner surface.
As his white mustache once more approached the target area Paula could sense a rising excitement not just in herself but also in Mr. Costello whose naked arms tightened their embrace around her bare little ass.
In the course of their groping and grappling for position her not-quite-naked, still-bobbie-sox-clad body had managed to get considerably closer to Mr. Costello's. Now they lay in intimate embrace, facing each other, touching full length along the narrow day bed-only end for end, their naked bodies not quite overlapping. His white mustache was still tickling her like a huge bumble bee buzzing round the flower between her thighs. His chest pressed against the juvenile flatness of her belly and her full firm tits were mashing against the graying ringlets of her employer's belly. Despite being such an old man, Mr. Costello's body was almost as slim as her own and considerably harder, thanks to constant exercise.
It felt so groovy she wanted to stay there forever. Sleepily, she opened her eyes and-oh golly!
When she had a fraction of a second to think Paula realized she had no reason to be surprised. What had she expected to see staring her in the face? Surely it was no more surprising than the odd viewpoint from which Mr. Costello was admiring her. She forced her eyes to focus on the great gudgeon that waved gently in time with Mr. Costello's heartbeat only inches from her eyes, so close she could feel the hot maleness radiate from it as if it were a branding iron ready to leave its mark on her unblemished skin.
It was the first time she had ever seen a male organ close up unless one counted babies. And Mr. Costello's didn't look at all like those tiny nozzles she had seen on some of her friends' baby brothers. This was a man's cock, heavily veined, with a long, slightly curved shank. The tip was sharply pointed, flaring dramatically like the head of a spear and she wondered if the flaring head would lodge inside her like the barbs on a harpoon.
It was waving gently in time to his pulsing blood, the tip circling gently but never far from her face. As she studied it his thing gave a little jerk and seemed to become slightly bigger, harder. She saw the head straining to escape his tight-stretched foreskin, managed to see the blind opening that glared at her like a one-eyed worm. While she studied this male phenomenon Mr. Costello's cock grew a little more and, still harder, did its unaided best to burst free from a confining foreskin. She stared fascinated, remembering how she had observed this phenomenon in dogs and horses, remembering also how circumspect a girl had to be and never ever admit that she was interested in things like that. As if there could be anything on earth more fascinating than a man!
The head of his cock was swollen to an angry purple. It glistened with lubrication and while she watched yet another tiny drop of crystal-clear and honey-thick liquid appeared like a single tear at the blind eye of his urethra. She wondered if this was the stuff that made babies, then remembered that it was supposed to be white and supposed to come out with a tremendous rushing gush. And most especially, not yet.
It felt so good just to lie here and look at it and feel his arms around her svelte little ass, feel his mustache brush and tickle her belly and thighs, to revel in the warm lubricity of all the things he was doing to her, had done to her, was going to do to her that Paula somehow managed to put a little watertight compartment in her mind and not think about what, if anything, was required of her. Surely Mr. Costello was going to want to do something. She was sure too that when the time came there would be time enough then to worry about it, to decide whether she wanted to do it or not.
But meanwhile, for the first time since she could remember, Paula's firm young body was not bursting with nervous energy. For the first time in her life she was content just to lie there and do nothing and let Mr. Costello's arms, his hands, his mouth, and his mustache do it all. Golly! Why hadn't somebody ever told her how nice it felt to have a man's mustache tickling circles round and round her belly, up one thigh and down the other, kissing the cheeks of her ass as he ran in ever-tightening circles around the blond-fuzzed rose between her slim thighs?
