Unknown - Sally and Duke

Voraciously, she sucked and swallowed, gulping down the hot dog-cum as Duke whined again and her whole self was filled with rapturous masochistic feelings of unnatural joy. The organ began quickly to deflate while she still held it between her clasping lips, and then it withdrew from her and slipped back into its long sheath and the dog's warmth retreated from her.

Ray groaned inwardly as he watched his wife swallow the last pungent drops of the animal cum, running the pink tip of her tongue delicately around her lips to capture the last stringy drops. And then, suddenly he saw her mouth open again, gasping, as she uttered a scream and began to flail her head wildly from side to side, her matted, tangled hair swinging over her perspiration-soaked white shoulders. He sensed that she was in the beginning throes of an orgasm, and he stared hypnotized as she screwed her buttocks salaciously back against Tully's bulk like a rutting bitch dog. She screamed and moaned again and again as she rammed back insanely. She had never dreamed that such wanton, abandoned pleasure could exist in this world… she was gone!

Tully seized her white rounded buttocks as they began to contract uncontrollably, signifying the intensity of her climax deep in her quaking belly. He forced her waving ass to near-stillness and looked down to see the thick white fluid that oozed out of her pulsating, clasping cunt while her asshole squeezed his prick until he thought it would blow apart.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhh… Oooooohhhh," she moaned out her beautiful, overwhelming release, rocked by diminishing spasms of unending bliss.

"S-h-i-i-i-t," he mouthed, "I'm cumming!" and he rammed into her with such force she thought his long prick would come up in her throat. She felt him behind her jerking against her flattened buttock moons and then a powerful surge of swirling, sticky sperm shot deep up in her rectum, filling her, flooding her back passage. He gasped out a final groan of relief and she felt him pulling back and out of her, until suddenly there was a lewd popping sound and the cool blissful air poured into the forever-stretched hole of her tortured anus. Her milkwhite buttocks gleamed wetly before the excited on-lookers who could look right up her fringed pink pussy slit with its wet, cum-soaked pubic hair, as she fell forward limply, exhausted.

Eula Babcock had remained for a long time with her hand still on the receiver of the telephone, trying to come to a decision. She had overheard all of the brief conversation between Mr. Blodgett and Tully Fairchild, and her alert mind told her that something unusual was happening today in town. She knew Blodgett, knew every evil nuance of his warped personality and lust for power. She knew even better about his other lust, the insatiable sexual appetite. No woman was too important, nor too unimportant, for him to seduce.

What in heaven's name did he want with the Spanish Fly? The stuff was available to every farmer or breeder who had a legitimate need of it, so why should he send Tully so hastily to fetch it? Whatever, she was sure he was up to no good and she bet someone was going to get hurt.

She even could guess who that someone was.

But in a few weeks now she would be free… free for a long time and maybe for good, of her despised boss. They were going to Florida for the whole winter and she would come out to the big house only every other week or so to check on things. And while Blodgett was away, Eula intended to be sure she got pregnant. God, married four years now and she'd never dared, never been able to stop taking the pill as long as she worked in this household, because if she'd gotten pregnant there would be no way of knowing for sure whose baby it was, her husband's or Blodgett's!

Tears of shame welled up in her luminous eyes as she recalled for the thousandth time the day she'd come to work here, fresh out of high school and engaged to marry Luke Babcock… the day Blodgett had seen her and wanted her. What chance had a poor little black girl had against a man of his cunning? He'd owned her body just as surely as his ancestors had owned their slaves a century ago. After her wedding she thought he'd have the decency to leave her alone, but of course he had no decency whatever… he simply controlled her now through her husband… through Luke's foreman's job at the sawmill. There wasn't any union or job security at the mill and Eula knew he could make good on his threat to have Luke fired, any time he felt like it. But he couldn't insist that she keep on working here if she was pregnant… he'd have to let her go then!

Lord almighty, sometimes she'd felt so desperate about the situation she'd even thought of killing him, God forgive her. The worst thing of all was the loathing he'd created in her for her own weak self, making her hate herself worse each time she let him use her body… because he could always make her do it and make her enjoy it before he was through fucking her, and he did… forcing her to beg him for it and use dirty words… that was what gave him the biggest thrill of all, a woman begging him for cock…

"Eula!" a petulant voice called.

She gave a guilty start and hurried into Miss Lauralee's bedroom, remembering that when the telephone rang she'd been about to replenish the ice in Miss Lauralee's ice bag.

Her mistress had tied a good one on this weekend, all right. Eula never remembered her looking so bad or being so sick. She was still a beautiful woman, even in her forties, why did she want to go ruining her looks with booze? 'Course being married to him was reason enough, the pretty maid thought grimly, though she knew that was not the root cause of Mrs. Blodgett's alcoholism. That was probably boredom, as much as anything, and as she often did, Eula felt a quick, genuine surge of pity for the spoiled, wealthy woman who lay there in her exquisite bedroom, sick as a dog. Miss Lauralee led a plainly useless life, and everybody needed something useful to occupy themselves. Eula hoped it would be better in Florida, and Mrs. Blodgett would find some new interest there.

She entered the darkened room and moved methodically about her task of taking ice cubes from the plastic bucket on the dresser and stuffing them into the round ice bag.

"Who was that on the phone?" Lauralee murmured weakly from the bed, squinting her red, aching eyes against even the dim light that filtered through the heavy drapes.

"Mr. Blodgett," Eula said shortly, "wanted to talk to Tully."

She moved to her mistress's side and gently smoothed back the blonde hair that was piled high atop Lauralee's small, well-shaped head. The woman's face was a sick grey beneath her deep tan and the absence of any make-up revealed a network of fine, nearly invisible wrinkles at the corners of her wide blue eyes, as well as a faint sagging of the flesh beneath her tiny chin. Even like this, she could still be considered attractive, particularly if one passed over the dull, ashen face to the sun-browned body which was still youthfully firm and slender. Beneath the filmy peach-colored nightgown the outlines of a full swelling bosom were delineated, right to the dark, slightly withered nipples. Her hands, with long blood-red nails in startling contrast to the pastel shades of the room and the wan features of their owner, twisted nervously in her lap. Very gently the maid lowered the ice bag to the woman's forehead, adjusting it to conform to her browline.

"Fix me some tomato juice, will you?" Lauralee instructed, "Someone told me the other day that tomato juice was good for a hangover. God, it can't hurt to try…" she grimaced in pain.

"Yes, Ma'am," Eula said, "You want some toast with it? You got to try to eat something."

"No, not yet… I couldn't. What's the matter, Eula-are you crying?"

"Why, no, Ma'am," Eula brushed her cheek, trying to smile and failing.