Roger Hornsby - The sex procurer

Then she came to me where I lay on the bed, looking at her, unable to look away despite my determination to do so. And she asked me to unhook her bra. I rose from the bed and did as she bade. She shivered when I touched the flesh of her back at the cross-band, and my fingers sent a tingling feeling through my body just from coming in contact with that flesh. Then she slipped away her bra, dropping it over her shoulders and leaning forward and letting its cups fall from her lovely big and firm breasts. She walked across the room and dropped the bra to her other clothes.

Turning, she began slipping away her panties, rolling them slowly and gently over her well-molded belly flesh. I looked at those orbs now in full view even while I peered at her belly, and my prick was a solid rock in my trousers. I went onto the bed again, but now didn't lie down. I sat there and tried to cross my legs. She was working against my plan. It was my intention to make her ready by not juicing her vag. And she was running me out on my own plan, making me want to abandon everything just to hold that flesh in my hands and know the good feeling of my rock in her vag. It was driving me out of my mind.

Then I saw her pussy, a brown-reddish thing to match her other hair, and it was big and furry and popped out beautifully as she slipped her panties down over it. She definitely was putting the tease on me, and she even gave me a little hesitant smile to go with it. All I could do was return the smile and say nothing. I just watched her.

She had beautiful legs, full and round and long and lovely. She was a big girl, and I really went for her. There was curve to her, everywhere. Her whole body was a series of well-carved curves. Flesh abounded and yet was taut and perfect, smooth and wondrous. A certain vibrancy came off her body, and enticed me. Her breasts were solid and her aureoles were wide and full. Her nipples were taut and they beckoned me. And her pussy was glorious as she lifted one leg from her pants, and then lowered it casually to the floor as she raised her other leg to draw away that band of nylon, and she tossed it to the heap of other clothes.

"I'm ready," she said then, standing momentarily before me, her hands to her side and slightly away from her flanks in a neat little pose. "Are you ready for me?" And she started to me on that bed.

"I told you there would be nothing," I said. "I told you we would go someplace else first."

"We are already someplace else," she said. "Oh, Ace, I can't stand it any longer. I can't stand it another minute." And she came to me on the bed, fell to her knees before me, and rested her elbows to my lap, looked up to me beggingly, and whispered, "Please, Ace. I can't stand it any longer at all."

I looked down at her. The contact of her flesh to me, her elbows to my knees, her body near me, drove me insane. My dick was throbbing. My gut was aching. I felt cream surging in my balls, wanting and demanding to be released.

"I'll do anything," she said. "I'll do anything. Please let me do anything to make you happy. Anything."

I shook my head. I knew I had to see it through on my terms. I definitely couldn't let anything happen. I wanted to bring that bitch all the way down the line. I had big plans, and she mustn't upset them.

Yet I wanted to drive her out of her mind, and show her I could control her, show her that sex couldn't move me the way she thought it could. That's something you have to show a broad sometimes. They have the idea, and often rightfully so, that the mere sight or feel or nearness of their flesh can turn a man on and that they can have just about anything they want if they handle their bodies right. You've got to show them once in awhile that such is not true. I felt it was the time for that with her.

So I brought her onto the bed with a terrific embrace and we sank our tongues together as she tried rolling her body against me, her pussy at my trousers, her tits at my chest, her warm flesh practically wrestling all over me. And I began working her snatch, moving fingers back and forth in its wet world; she was solidly soaked already, and that was a good sign, too, for what I had in mind. I needed a broad that wanted to fuck more than anything else in the world, and I was sure I had one.

So I juiced her more, and she turned in every direction on that bed, and was struggling like crazy to get at my cock so she could play with it. But I kept moving in such a way that she couldn't find it directly, and she was too lost in her own good time to protest much; after all, she was sure that I would send my yang into her the minute I thought she was fully primed for the ride.

But I had other plans. So I kept at her vag, finally working up four fingers and a thumb, and managed to get a whole hand inside her. I turned it to a fist and began pumping her with it. She moaned and turned onto her back and spread her legs and shut tightly her eyes and held me and begged that I go all the way to the roof of her cunt. She practically had forgotten that she wanted a dick in her slit. Which was all right with me.

I began punching that fist up her hole, moving it perfectly, giving her plenty of action. Her cunt juice soaked it, and the ride was smooth; very little friction, and I felt my fist go up and down the walls of her hot and wet twat. Soon I brought her to a wild good come. She rocked and rolled and went insane. She moaned to the stars. She was crazy all over me, totally insane from my powering fist-fuck.

And I knew the next step was ready. It wouldn't be long.

Soon we were making the rounds I'd gone with the previous bitch, Susie. We were hitting the stage shows, and sweet and innocent Lucy was doing exactly the same thing as Susie had done, letting herself be fucked in front of a hall full of guys, taking me in her cunt or mouth, putting on the performance exactly as I knew she would from the minute I first marked her.

There was the dog, too. I got Rover out of a kennel where I had kept him during most of my travels. He was a lot older, and had forgotten what cunt was about. But the minute he was lined up with the stuff, his memory came back, and he smelled and licked like the Rover of old. Lucy loved his dick in her twat, too, though at first she pretended to think it was simply dreadful that I should ever want her to fuck a dog.

So Rover and I put on the old act for the troops wherever they booked us, and the crowds went wild. Yet I wanted something more, had determined I would have something more even in the first time I had spotted Lucy on that street that afternoon in her home town. And the "something different" came one day in the example of Esel.

That was the donkey's name. He was a beautiful little thing, like something left over from a Walt Disney cartoon. He was a kind of little butterball and cute as they come. And he came, too. Let me tell you about that.

When I brought him home one evening to the house we occupied on the edge of the town where we were living for awhile and from which we traveled to other towns in the area, Lucy was surprised. "Whatever on earth are you doing with a mule?" she asked, looking at Esel and bemused by his cute appearance.

"It's a donkey," I corrected. "A mule can't fuck."

She didn't know what I meant, but accepted it scientifically. After all, that's the definition of a mule, isn't it? And besides, she was intrigued by the animal, and spent a lot of time with it.

That night I said to her: "Suppose Esel fucked you." We were in bed and I had my fist up her hole, banging hell out of her. It was something I never had let her lose the feel of. I believe in hooking a broad on a habit; and with Lucy, it was for a purpose I never had stopped planning.

"Esel fuck me?" she said dumbly even while her eyes were glazed and while she was humping my fist like a madwoman. Yet she had time to think of that, see? So I knew the mark was ready.