J. Russell - Mother_s ass

Helen sagged when she saw the climaxing couple collapse. She realized with horror that she had risen dangerously near the kind of perverse ecstasy she hadn't experienced since her summer with Tony. Barry's mouth left her pussy and his finger withdrew from her ass.

Barry heaved himself to his feet and pressed his cock into the flesh of her belly. "Anyone ever tell you what a sexy goddamn broad you are, Helen?" he panted.

"Barry, please," she said in a low tone. "Please."

He rubbed his cock against her belly. "I'm so hot I'm about to bust a blood vessel!" he exclaimed. "Those other two make it yet?" He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. "Looks like they did. Shit, they're one up on us. Come on, let's fuck."

"Barry! Oh, Barry, don't talk like that, please!"

"Okay. No talk. Let's just do it." He bent his knees, pressing them against the undersides of her thighs, and his cockhead slid down through her pussy hair and under her crotch. She felt its bulk nestle in her slit and gasped.

He's going to! He is! "Barry! Barry, they didn't do that! Barry!"

He surged upward and his cock slammed into her cunt, driving into her guts and filling her with a fiery sensation.

"Yaghh! Eeeaghhh!" Her hips flogged and her cunt pounded on the base of the buried cock. Barry grabbed her ass and jerked her away from the grate, straining up so her feet left the floor and pulled violently against her ankle bonds.

"Ah! Ah! AH!" she gasped at each of his thrusts. Her pleasure roared over her and she forgot everything but the gush of sensation. Her belly tensed and a hard knot formed around the deep-pressed cockhead. She mumbled in a monotone, "Fuck fuck fuck!"

Barry's cock stroked in her cunt. Her boobs jounced and her knees jerked. An ocean of passion rose over her and carried her beyond herself. She felt the knot in her belly jerk loose as a hard contraction snapped the mouth of her twat on Barry's prick. A hard trembling shook her and she turned rigid.

"MMMMM! AHHHH!" Her shrieks carried the edge of her lust. She wallowed in her climax, aware that Barry's pumping had yielded to a steady, frenzied force against her. A flood of liquid heat ballooned her gut and her orgasm redoubled its ferocity. She screamed with delight and scrubbed her pussy in the steel wool of his crotch hair. He thrust his face forward and grabbed her nipple in his mouth, biting on it while his jism continued to well into her spasming cunt. And his fingers kneaded her butt mercilessly.

At last, his inner storm appeared to subside; his hands relaxed and the awful upward force of his cock slackened. Helen's cunt spasms slowed and she let her head fall against one arm.

"Oh! Oh, Barry!"

"Hey, we made it together, baby!"

"Oh, my! Yes, we did!"

"Know something?" he asked in a low tone. "I've come up out of a sound sleep where I was dreaming I was fucking you, Helen. I've wanted to ever since the first time I saw you. Only I never dreamed about doing it this way! Jesus Christ, but you're a great fuck!"

"Oh, darling, don't spoil it by using the wrong words! Please!" She twisted, still impaled on his cock and still unable to reach the floor with her feet. "Barry… I'm hanging by my wrists. They're numb!"

He lowered her and reluctantly pulled out his prick. She fell against the bars, panting and weak, while his hands continued to rove over her body. To her horror, she discovered that her sensory system was still capable of stimulus. Excitement jabbed at her and her hips began to twist again. Barry massaged and stroked until she was pleading for his cock, and she was hardly conscious of the fact he was untying her. She collapsed in his arms and let him carry her to the couch, where he laid her on her side. She made no protest when he pushed the knee of her upper leg against her chest and straddled the other thigh, his cock once more stabbing at her hot cunt. She undulated her hips in time to his beat and happily rose again to an orgasm, fleetingly aware that Vanessa had her legs locked around Art's hips, lashing her body on his embedded prick.

When she collapsed for the second time, Barry bent over her, his softening cock still buried and his hand idly fondling her tit.

"You're good lying down, too, baby," he said. "What a lucky guy Art is!"

Helen shook her head. "You don't know," she said. "Maybe you're the lucky one."

"Oh, hell! I wasn't saying Van's not great. I didn't mean that!"

She bubbled with laughter at the panic in his face and a rush of tenderness and affection for him took her by surprise. "Mm, you're sweet, Barry." She snuggled against him.

Helen lay beneath Barry for a long time, her pussy contracting involuntarily at intervals. As the effects of her vodka wore off, the contractions began to embarrass her, and flashes of anguish made her shudder each time she squeezed his cock.

But what can I do? she asked herself. How can I undo what's already a fact? He's in and we both know it. She restrained her growing restiveness until Barry eased his cock out of her hole and lay beside her. To her chagrin, her first response to him gathering her in his arms and pushing his limp dick into the nest of her pussy hair was to return the pressure. Realizing too late what she had implied, she buried her face in the hollow of his neck and whimpered.

"Pretty much for one night, isn't it, baby?" Barry whispered.

"Yes."

"First time?"

"Yes. The first time tied up – or naked – or with the lights on – or most of the other things. And the first time with anyone except Art. Not counting Danny's father, of course." She wasn't going into that episode.

"Baby, don't let it get you down."

"Huh?"

"I mean, you can't hide Tom yourself, and no one else is important enough to hide from."

"Like now?"

"Like now." Barry gently lifted her face from his shoulder and grinned.

His teeth are as crooked as his nose, she thought. I forgot that when he was chewing me. It struck her he was heavier than Art… stockier and with more bulges. His features reminded her of the face of a granite cliff, seamed and craggy, and his eyes were a gray-green that looked out of place with his olive complexion. It was a wonder he could sell anything, and she recalled wondering often how he managed to stay at the top of his field. But his very roughness was a source of comfort to her right now, as if homeliness guaranteed sympathy and understanding. Her only problem was the increasingly nagging awareness of her nakedness and the intimacy of their embrace.

"But Barry! What'll I do? Brrr! You realize what I've done tonight?"

Barry nodded and grinned again. "Christ, yes! It's something you ought to be proud of. Something to remember. Look how Art ate it up!"

"He… he was terrible!"

"Because he liked what was going on?"

"Yes. Oh, Barry!" she wailed. "He should have stopped us!"

"Forget it, baby. I'll bet he's never been that turned on in his whole life. No offense to you, either."

"But imagine what he must think of me! To act like that after all this time!"

"Look, pet. Don't answer me if you don't want to. But keep asking yourself and giving honest answers when you do. Did you enjoy what happened? At the time, I mean. Did the things I did to you feel good? Was it good to see how excited Art got and how much fun he had?"

She shook her head slowly. "Those aren't the important questions, Barry. The only important question is, 'Was it right or wrong?'"

"That's not a good question until you decide what right and wrong mean. What they mean to you. To me, what you did was right because it was fun for everyone here – because no one else will ever know about it and can't get hurt – because maybe it accomplished something worthwhile. 'Right' is something different from 'socially acceptable' or 'conventional', baby."