Martha lifted her hands and gestured toward the center of the bed. “To give Violet the best view, I’ll have to move to your other side.”
He got it. Cantor didn’t trust himself to speak an intelligible word, so he slid over silently to the center.
“Okay, Violet, are you ready for your first peek at him?” Martha slowly drew the edge of the sheet down his body.
Cantor’s belly quivered at the caress of the fabric and his breath caught. When she reached his cock, she tugged to free the sheet from it, and his manhood sprang back to graze his belly before standing proudly erect from his loins.
Violet’s gasp was extremely gratifying and her eyes grew round. “Are you going to take
all
of him inside you?”
“He fits. I promise.” Martha’s short sentences were punctuated with shallow breaths.
Cantor gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into the bedding, again. Then he closed his eyes against sensory overload, striving for control over his body.
He felt one of the women shift, sliding over his belly to settle on the other side of him, completely avoiding his aching cock.
“When a woman makes love to a man,” Martha said, “she has choices. If she wants to take him quickly, she can go straight for his cock. If she wants to draw the pleasure out, she explores farther afield.”
Cantor’s cock voted for quick. When Martha didn’t make a move toward the center of his torment, Cantor opened his eyes to glare at her.
The twinkle in her gaze told him she knew very well how enflamed he was. “What do you think of Cantor’s body, Violet?” she asked, her gaze never leaving his.
“I like it.”
“No, tell me what you see.”
Cantor took a deep breath. His need was so strong he had the overwhelming urge to take Martha to the mattress and slam his flesh into her cunt. But he’d frighten the hell out of the girl if he took Martha like an animal now. He clenched his hands behind his head while his body remained tight as a newly strung bow.
“He is very large, not just…his sword. And golden, like the sun. The muscles of his chest and stomach are so rigid they look as though carved from stone, and his arms are larger than my thighs.”
“How does all that power make you feel?”
“Very wet…in my woman’s flesh. Quivery inside my belly. And I can’t breathe.”
Cantor noted her cheeks were flushed a bright pink and her areolas dimpled.
Oh God, I’m going to die.
“Would you like to know what his muscles feel like?”
Cantor growled deep in his throat and glared at Martha.
“She’s curious.” Martha’s tone was chiding. “Let her touch you.” Martha’s own nipples were engorged, like plump, pink candies and the scent of her arousal teased his nostrils.
He nodded and braced himself to receive the girl’s first touch.
Violet crept closer on the mattress and her hands settled on his shoulders, smoothing over the tops of his arms, then along the underside until she reached his armpits. Her touch wasn’t tentative as he’d expected, and she didn’t hesitate to rake her nails through the ruffs of hair.
“You have to say what you feel,” Martha reminded her.
“His skin is smooth and soft, but the muscle beneath is hard as stone.” She sounded breathless, and excitement shone in her eyes.
Cantor couldn’t take his gaze from her lovely, flushed face. His body put that excitement there.
Her hands spanned his chest, and then her fingers slid over his nipples. “Here we aren’t so different, are we, Can-
torr
? These are as pointed as mine,” she said, and she lifted one hand to touch her nipple, “and soft like velvet, like mine.”
Cantor groaned.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her expression anxious.
“You’re killing me, little girl,” he said, his voice raspy with strain.
“Pleasure causes pain,” Martha said. “Continue.”
Violet’s small, soft hands glided over his ribs and lower to his belly.
He couldn’t stop the quiver that racked his abdomen.
“He trembles like I do.” Her eyes were wide with wonder and then her gaze fell on his cock.
“No!” he cried out, and he freed his hands to trap hers against his belly. “No more.”
Violet nodded and sat back on her haunches, pulling her hands away to rest them in her lap. “I will watch now. I promise not to disturb you further.”
“Impossible,” he muttered. His gaze shifted to Martha. Martha with her lush body and warm, welcoming cocoon that would envelop his raging erection. “Are you going to finish this?” His jaw tight, he gritted out, “And no more preliminaries.”
Martha burned beneath his savage gaze. Her body released a gush of liquid to bathe her vagina.
No more preliminaries, indeed!
Her body was so ripe for this fucking, she knew she hadn’t the will to tease him further. She’d been in an agony of anticipation since he’d entered the cabin.
Everything that followed had been foreplay.
She and the girl had planned every word, choreographed every action. The glimpse of Fahgwat’s pussy had set the tenor of their seduction. The long, slow strokes of the brush planted a subliminal image of his body stroking inside theirs. Her conversation with the younger woman was for his ears alone. They had him right where they wanted him.
So why did her knees shake as she straddled his body? She was the one in control, but his harsh, tight features told her she’d leashed a tiger. How soon before he broke his bonds?
Soon
, she hoped. With her gaze upon his face, she centered her moist cleft over his shaft, sliding moisture over the tip until he was positioned for her taking.
Cantor’s face was harsh and drawn, his lips curled back and teeth gritted. His eyes challenged her to take him.
But she wanted more.
Martha’s hands rose to her breasts and she fingered her nipples, circling on them as she circled her hips on the head of his cock, screwing downward only far enough to take the head inside her.
Cantor’s nostrils flared and he bared his teeth. His hips lifted to press himself deeper inside.
She raised her breasts, offering them for his enjoyment—and hers.
His gaze locked on her nipples and he sat up, bracing his body on his hands, and rooted at one breast until his mouth closed over the plump tip.
Her head fell back, too heavy for her neck, and she sank upon his cock, relishing how well he filled her, stretched her vagina. Her thighs shook, but she rose and then fell, taking him deeper this time. Slowly at first, then faster, she glided up and down on his cock while his mouth suckled at her breast and his teeth chewed her aching tits.
“Cantor!” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, kneading the deep, rigid muscles, scraping his soft, sweaty skin, and finally clutching him tightly as she pumped, faster, harder, grinding down to increase the hot friction. The seduction was forgotten in her own burning need.
“Fuck me,” he growled against her breast.
She writhed and dipped, circling her hips to screw down on him, until all of his length was buried in her cunt.
“Fuck me, baby.” His teeth closed on a ripe nipple and bit.
Then she was lost to the rapture, flung beyond herself into space to shatter like a starburst. Her cries echoed against the bare rafters as her body shook. When her breath returned, ragged and harsh, she opened her eyes to find his gaze spearing into hers.
He hadn’t come.
As quickly as that thought crossed her mind, she found herself on her back, his hands pressing her legs high and wide. He plunged into her with a roar.
His knees stepped on the mattress, adjusting his thighs just so, jostling her hips roughly as he pumped, his breath coming in loud, guttural gasps.
Martha flailed wildly for purchase to anchor herself to withstand the storm, finally reaching above to grasp the ridge at the bottom of the headboard to halt her progress up the bed.
Still he pounded at her cunt—hard, sharp strokes that jarred her body. “Please, please,” she begged, sobbing now with renewed need, the fire deep inside her womb reignited by his powerful thrusts.
“Sweet, sweet bitch,” he cried, and he pumped faster, the sounds of their flesh smacking staccato, sweat glistening on his chest and face. He planted his hands in the mattress on either side of her shoulders and he flexed his buttocks, driving harder, faster, deeper—and suddenly he bellowed and pushed deep inside her, pulsing his hips as deeply as his cock could reach, grinding against her womb.
Another sunburst of ecstasy exploded in her belly, radiating down her legs to make them quake. Beyond breath, beyond thought, Martha reached out to hold him tight as he shuddered with completion, his cum spurting in hot waves.
Martha opened her eyes, surprised she hadn’t passed out. Her arms encircled Cantor’s heaving shoulders and she smoothed her hands over his strong, broad back.
A lifetime of holding him like this wouldn’t be enough.
Then a sound intruded and she looked over at Fahgwat. The young woman’s arms were wrapped around her belly and she shivered. She knelt so near that Martha saw the trail of liquid desire that striped her inner thigh.
She sighed. Fahgwat was her partner in this seduction, but their quarry was far from caged. And she owed the girl her satisfaction.
“Fah—Violet.” She patted the mattress beside her. “Lie down.”
Martha grasped Cantor’s heavy head and lifted it. His blue eyes opened and she smiled at him. “Violet has never been kissed by a man, nor has she experienced an orgasm.” She combed his hair from his face with her fingers and watched while his expression lost its slackness. As his cock stirred within her with renewed vigor, his gaze sharpened in suspicion.
She’d deliver to Cantor his desire, whether he wanted it or not. “Let’s show her what it’s all about.”
Fahgwat sat frozen beside the couple still joined on the bed. She wasn’t at all sure she was still interested in learning what sex was all about. What she’d witnessed frightened her deeply.
Her new friend, the one she had schemed with in girlish whispers and giggles, had transformed before her eyes as soon as she had taken the man’s large sword between her legs. Her gentle, smiling features had sharpened in agony, her mouth twisting, her cries ragged and loud, as she had strained to reach completion. There was nothing soft and wonderful in what she had witnessed.
From their conversations, Fahgwat had expected a transcending ecstasy. Her own body had readied for it, her nipples tightening, her breath increasing in unison with her heart rate. Even her vagina had reacted, spilling liquid down her thigh.
But as she’d watched Cantor rear up and flip Martha onto her back to pound at her body violently, her desire had changed to horror.
And Cantor, her blond god, had become a lion, roaring with anger, his body seeming grow larger, his muscles rippling with exertion to inflict his powerful, thrusting staff—sharp as a spike—at Martha’s soft body.
If this was lovemaking, she would gladly pass on the lesson.
Cantor reared back, disengaging with Martha’s body to kneel beside her. His wide chest rose and fell with his harsh breaths.
Martha sat up and shook her head. “Whew!” She glanced at Fahgwat and her expression turned to one of concern. “Violet, sweetheart, you don’t understand yet, but what just happened was pleasurable.”
“It is all right. I am a little tired. Perhaps we should sleep.”
Martha threw a concerned glance at Cantor. If anything, his face grew more frightening and his cock was growing again, huge and straight, with each passing moment.
“Lie down, sweetheart,” Martha urged her. “I promise he won’t do anything that frightens you.” Her hand reached toward her and Fahgwat didn’t flinch when Martha’s fingertip traced the path of the liquid that had grown cold on her thigh. “Some of it pleased you,” she said. She lifted the finger, smeared with Fahgwat’s juices, and brought it to Cantor’s mouth.
He shook his head, but she persisted and painted his lips with the moisture.