She sank down
on him in one movement. He moaned and filled his hands with her
full soft breasts. His eyes rolled up in his head and he twitched
and flopped like a landed fish. And lay still.
Cassie
chuckled as she lay on top of him.
He looked at
her with adoration and apology. 'I'm sorry, I didn't... I mean, you
didn't...'
'Ssh.' She shut him up with a kiss. 'Forget Tree-Top Ted, come
home with me and
I'll
show you how to behave like a man.'
This scene,
with variations, was repeated through the room. One by one, Ted
Timberland's most ardent disciples were vanquished - whether by
choice or by force, it mattered not.
'Let's get
him,' said a slim middle-aged beauty to a teenager in jeans. The
pair of them grabbed Pinstripe as he tried to run for it and the
slender woman tied his hands behind his back with his tie. The
teenager pulled his trousers down and rummaged in his Y-fronts.
'As limp as a
lettuce,' she pronounced.
'Take your
clothes off,' said the other.
The teenager
was buxom and ripe. She turned and lowered her jeans, waggled her
smooth golden buttocks, dragging her knickers up into her crack.
'How's that? It always gets my boyfriends going.'
'I'm not
surprised,' said the other. 'He's flesh and blood after all.
See.'
The girl
looked over her shoulder. The woman was pumping a short stubby tool
in elegant fingers. The head was broad and blood red.
'Make him
shoot over my arse,' she said.
'And he can
lick it off afterwards,' said the woman. 'That'll teach him to be
such a dickhead.'
'No!' shouted
Pinstripe and fountained a deluge of semen into the air. It
splashed onto the girl's pretty bottom in a graceful arc and
Pinstripe slumped to his knees.
'Get licking,'
commanded the girl and buffeted her bottom into his face.
'Let's go,'
said Petra to Kelvin as the action hotted up around them.
He was a
little reluctant, the small blonde had Anorak's cock in her mouth
and her freckled friend was sitting on his face. She really had the
most fabulous breasts...
'Put your eyes
back in, lover,' said Petra. 'I'll make it worth your while
later.'
But they found
their way barred - by Morticia Chekhov.
'Hello, my
dear,' she said to Petra. 'I thought I spotted your pretty face
from the platform. You're not going, are you?'
'We certainly
are, Morticia. Goodbye.'
'But you
haven't introduced me to your handsome companion.'
'This is
Kelvin. Say hello and goodbye, Kelvin.'
'Wait.'
Morticia put her hand on Petra's arm. 'I'm sure there's time for me
to tell Kelvin the circumstances of our last meeting.'
'No!' Petra
tried to pull her arm away but found she was held fast. Kelvin was
looking on with interest. She saw his eyes resting on Morticia's
enticing cleavage and the gold chain which looped down and up, its
end tucked into her breast pocket.
'It was on a
train, Kelvin. We got into a fascinating discussion with a ticket
inspector.'
'Morticia!'
squealed Petra in dismay. The hazel eyes turned in her direction.
'Well, perhaps we could stay a little while,' she said, beaten into
submission.
The novelist smiled and took them both by the hand.
'Excellent. Let's find an out-of-the-way spot where we can keep an
eye on these most
interesting
proceedings.'
Tree-Top Ted
was apoplectic. In front of him his fans and disciples were falling
prey to the painted and perfumed Jezebels who followed the whore
Honeydew.
'Fight!
Fight!' he roared over the heads of the scrimmaging throng,
reaching for the silver flask of Big Boar bourbon in his jacket
pocket.
'Repel those
foul women, damn you!' he implored his followers, taking a long
restorative swig of liquor before plunging into the writhing mass
to pull copulating bodies apart. His reputation, his whole ethos,
not to mention his battle for book sales was on the line here.
'Damnation
take you!' he cried, lifting a wriggling nymph from the supine body
of a naked dentist and hurling her over his shoulder. 'Honeydew -
you'll burn in hell for this!'
A cameraman
followed his every move.
In the day
room of The Primrose Court, the events at Black Raven were under
scrutiny.
'Good God,'
said Gloria, 'I can't believe I'm seeing this.'
'Why doesn't
someone pull the plug?' said Amy.
'Anything goes
on late-night telly these days,' said Claire. 'It's probably a
happening - like they used to have in the sixties,' said Fiona.
'You know, a spontaneous event.'
'Never - it's
a put-up job.'
'It was
probably better in rehearsal.'
A voice of
authority cut through the banter.
'I don't think
this is an occasion for levity,' said Gossamer Hawk.
Silence fell.
On the television screen Tree-Top Ted threw a small flailing girl
over his shoulder. The camera captured his blazing eyes and howling
mouth.
'I think,'
continued the Prosecutor, 'it's time for action. Inspector, I want
an arrest. I want that man there' - on the screen Ted grabbed a
naked woman by the hair - 'in the cells by midnight.'
Sir Charles
Mastiff surveyed the scene from the back of the studio with
satisfaction. Half-naked bodies were everywhere. Women were making
nude men run the gauntlet of their nubile bare-breasted bodies to
regain their clothes. Not many of them made it. Other men had been
tied to the seats and women were taking it in turns to excite them.
Spunk flew through the air. The boldest of the women had painted
themselves with it. It glistened on their thighs and buttocks.
Marianne,
unsure of her role now proceedings had taken an unexpected turn,
had grabbed a microphone and was conducting interviews with
participants.
'She's a real
trooper, that girl,' said Mastiff in admiration as he watched her
quiz a lipstick-smeared merchant banker as he lay vanquished on the
floor.
'I think she's
brilliant,' said a dark shape in the shadows by his side, her mouth
outlined in the glow of a cigarette.
'She was
wasted on the weather,' said the television executive eyeing
Marianne's pert bottom as she bent to thrust her microphone into a
pile of wriggling bodies. 'It's imperative we have sexy girls in
arts TV. It's all very well appealing to the eggheads but you've
got to have something good to look at while you're discussing
Schopenhauer.'
'Nice tits and
bum, you mean?'
'That's
putting it a bit crudely but, basically, yes.'
'Would mine
do?' The dark shape moved into the light and ground her cigarette
end into the floor.
'I know you,'
said Sir Charles. 'You were in the green room with Timberland.'
'Sonja
Sargeant. I'm handling his publicity. Actually I'm considering a
change of career.' Her hands were working at the buttons on her
chocolate silk blouse, pulling it open.
'I see; said
Mastiff, his eyes lighting up at the big smooth mounds of flesh
barely contained in the sculpted cups of her lacework
brassiere.
'Not yet, you
don't,' said Sonja stepping out of her skirt and revealing long
flowing legs in black stockings and suspenders. Her blouse, too,
fluttered to the floor and her bra followed. Her jutting
dark-nippled breasts quivered before his eyes.
'What do you
think?' she said. 'Give me an interview, at least.'
'Here?' he
said.
'Why not?'
She took his
hand and put it to her chest. The flesh was hot to his touch. The
full smooth orb overflowed his palm.
'It could take
a while,' he said, slipping his other hand over the curve of her
hip, 'to really test your suitability.'
She said
nothing to that. She already had her hand in his fly.
'I didn't
realise intellectual programmes were like this,' said Eve as she
knelt on the floor and rested her elbows on the side of the
bed.
'You've led a
sheltered life,' said Tom, kneeling behind her and anointing her
rectum with a whorl of transparent jelly from a tube.
'God, look at
her sucking that big cock!'
'She's not
sucking cock, Eve, she's practising fellatio in the cause of art.'
Tom rubbed ointment into the head of his penis and placed it in the
dark divide between the cheeks of her bottom.
'That's a bit
of a mouthful,' she said.
'Whichever way
you look at it,' he agreed, plunging into the sweet tight tunnel of
her anus.
'Oh,' she said
and pushed back against him. 'God, you've got it all the way up
me.'
'Does it
hurt?'
'Not
exactly.'
'Shall I
stop?'
'Oh no.'
He found her
clit with his fingers and began to tickle. 'Ooh, that's good, Tom!'
And she squirmed and bucked, riding backwards and forwards on his
fingers and cock in a gallop towards orgasm.
Suddenly her
thrusts faltered and she began to giggle. Tom's eyes had been glued
to the shiver and shake of her broad white bottom and the elastic
ring of her anus stretched tight around his tool. He looked up and
he chuckled too as he took in the familiar face on the television
screen.
'It's funny,'
he said as he resumed his thrusts, 'for years I thought Petra had a
clipboard between her legs.'
'Well, you
know better now, don't you?' said Eve, squirming beneath him.
'Me and ten
million viewers,' said Tom and shot off deep inside her voluptuous
bottom.
Petra had
known Morticia would humiliate her but, of course, that's also what
she wanted. She wasn't so sure about involving Kelvin, however.
Things were too new this second time around. But it seemed she
didn't have a choice.
They had been
watching the orgy from the side but now Morticia led them to the
platform where the action raged.
'Take your
clothes off,' said the novelist and, with trembling fingers, Petra
obeyed.
'Take his
penis out,' was her next command and, without looking Kelvin in the
eye, Petra did as she was told. His cock reared from his trousers,
a straining bar of flesh in her hand. She clung on to it as if it
were her sanity. Lust and fear boiled in her loins.
She found
herself on her back on the table as Morticia positioned her to her
liking. Then she was lying with her legs spread-eagled and hanging
down, her pussy at just the right height for any eager male. And
suddenly there were lots of those.
First came a
large hairy man with a muscular torso. Petra recognised him as the
man in the anorak. He seemed to have undergone a kind of religious
conversion.
He groaned as
he sank his big tool inside her and thrust with a purpose that had
her moaning with shame and delight. He didn't last long but behind
him was another ex-sperm-conserver and another behind him, his cock
at the ready.
Petra took
them all, she had no option. And she wouldn't have wanted it any
other way. Now she had started, she didn't want to stop.
Between
orgasms she looked at Kelvin. He was standing by Morticia's side,
watching her intently. On his face was an expression of desire,
frustration and - could it be? - pride in her performance.
As Petra gazed
into his eyes, Morticia whispered to him. At her command he took a
pace towards Petra, his cock thrusting up from his loins like an
angry weapon. Morticia spoke to him again and Petra realised then
that Kelvin, too, had fallen under the woman's spell. And somehow,
even as a camera zoomed in to capture her taking Kelvin's penis
deep down her throat, that made everything all right.
'I need your
help,' said Chastity to Marianne as the presenter stood uncertainly
behind a large shambling cameraman who was heroically capturing the
scenes of lust and mayhem around him. Marianne had given up on her
interviews and was contemplating giving the cameraman some hand
relief - God knows the poor fellow was in need of it from the way
his trousers were stretched over his bulging crotch. Being a
newcomer to this kind of programme, however, she had been uncertain
whether it was professional to jack off a working technician. Would
the camera shake, for example? Or would it be in contravention of
union rules? Marianne had always been wary of touching studio
equipment lest she set off some dispute.
Chastity's
request rescued her from this dilemma. The Californian
sex-therapist was stripped for action. She wore a man's sports
shirt, calf-high white cowboy boots with tassels and a scarlet
G-string. The shirt was undone and her big tanned breasts floated
ahead of her like two balloons. Her long blonde hair hung wild and
loose and there was a crazy light in her eyes. This was her night
of ultimate triumph.
'You're on my
side, aren't you?' she said to Marianne, who nodded - what else
could she do? Now was no time for debate.
'Help me get
Timberland,' hissed Chastity. 'Come on!'
Ted was in the
thick of the throng, separating bodies with his spade-like hands,
hauling wriggling women off fallen men and heaving fornicating
couples apart. Occasionally he would stop and take a swig from his
flask and hurl curses at no one in particular. Then a curvaceous
bottom or a bare breast would catch his eye and he'd lash out,
plunging once more into the fray.
Chastity
caught him from behind, leaping onto his broad back and wrapping
her arms around his neck. He didn't go down. Instead he swayed
unsteadily, surprised for a moment, then bent forward at the waist,
pitching Chastity onto the floor. Marianne kicked him on the knee
and he fell sideways. Then both women jumped on top of him.