Jeff Collins: Blackmailed swingers

She watched the slick shaft slip out of her mouth, then grind back. Again she watched it withdraw, pulling back until only the head was embedded. He was coming. She could feel it inching up from his balls in the palm of her hand, growing stronger, forming a knot at the root of the meat in her face.

He gurgled something unintelligible, and then suddenly threw his legs back. His weight came down on her as he ground his giant prick into her throat.

Carrie gulped the first glob of cum. She worked her throat muscles, coaxing the juice from his cock. She was being smothered, choked on the outside by his weight, and by the cum in her throat. But she didn't care. She didn't care about anything except the thick juice pouring into her mouth, coating her throat all the way down to her belly in streams of thick, hot cum.

"Don't stop!" she cried as the dick in her mouth stopped creaming.

Darren pumped faster, jerking his meat in and out, trying to spew another load. But his cock seemed to be momentarily fucked out. It began to grow limp, to hang from her mouth.

Carrie sucked with all her might. Working her middle finger high in his rectum, gyrating her ass, her pussy, she greedily drank the hot cum as electric shocks raced up her spine. She was on fire. Her pussy wanted some.

"Fuck me, Darren! Your cock is still hard enough! Fuck me with it!"

Darren slipped his prick from her mouth with a soft, popping sound. Cum oozed down her chin. "No way," he moaned, flopping onto his back. "I'm beat."

"You prick!" she hissed. "I didn't get a come!"

"Tough shit and shut up. You're gonna get the neighbors up here."

"You bastard!"

"Get out, Carrie!"

"No! Not till I come!" she screamed.

Darren slapped her hard across the tits. "Carrie! If you don't get the fuck out of here, I'm gonna break one of your damn arms."

With the lease signed and the deposit put down, Melissa Trent walked up the stairs to 4-B. She could smell the odor of cleaning fluids before she got through the door.

But soon, very soon, Melissa thought, it will smell like me… and my new life.

There was a couch, a couple of big chairs, a few tables and lamps, all very neat and clean. The living room was separated from a phone booth sized dining area by a counter, and the tiny kitchen had fairly new appliances and crisp curtains at the window.

She started to make some coffee. While it was perking, she went to the phone and dialed a number.

"Hullo," a sleepy voice slurred.

"Bob?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"Jeez, you're here!" the voice cried, suddenly very awake. "When did you get in?"

"Just a couple of hours ago. Thanks far setting up the apartment for me."

"S'okay," he replied, then paused. "Is it over?"

"Yeah," Melissa said. "For good. The divorce will be final in four months."

"I'm happy for you, Melissa. And I hope you're happy."

"You could make me happier," she replied.

"Say how?"

"I haven't been fucked in over a month," she giggled.

"Say no more! I'll be there in an hour!"

"See you!" She hung up the phone and couldn't help smiling as the image of Bob's face came back to her. It would be good to see him again.

Precisely one hour later, she answered the knock at the door. She was greeted by a laughing cackle coming from behind a large bucket of chicken.

"Thought you might be hungry," Bob said as he peered around the bucket.

Melissa leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks. My stomach was just beginning to think my throat had been cut."

She put the chicken on the table and turned to face him. He reached for her and hugged her to his chest.

"It's good to see you again Melissa," he said seriously. "I began to wonder if you were going to come." He kissed her affectionately and then plopped into a chair. "Tell me all about whatever you did."

Melissa felt warmly comfortable. Bob was an old, dear friend. He was the kind of person she felt at home with. Maybe because he was no threat to her. He had never pried, just accepted her for herself.

"Soon. Let's eat first."

She sat down opposite him at the table and poured him a cop of coffee, then opened the bucket of chicken. They ate in silence, now and then glancing up at one another expectantly. They finished and Bob leaned back in his chair.

"Did you mean it?" he asked. "What?"

"That you haven't been fucked in a month?"

"Of course."

"Well, then, let's don't change the subject," he grinned, his boyish handsomeness warming her heart. "Let's fuck."

"The bed isn't made?" Melissa giggled.

"We'd just mess it up anyway," he laughed, taking her hand and leading her down the hall.

Melissa and Bob Lange had been high-school sweethearts and lovers. He had broken her cherry when she was fifteen, and they had dated the rest of the way through school.

Then Melissa graduated and went to photography school. Slowly they had drifted apart, seeing each other only now and then. They still made wild love together, but it was different, freer. They didn't need each other as much as before.

Then Bob got a job in a big advertising firm in L.A. and left the small Midwestern city where they lived. Melissa, seeing Bob's success, was even more determined to forge a career for herself as a commercial photographer.

She missed Bob and she missed their sessions of fantastic sex.

But then she had met Carl West. Carl headed his own architectural firm. He was twice divorced, very rich, very handsome, and a great deal older than Melissa. Perhaps, for that reason, he had literally swept her off her feet.

They had three dates before Carl even tried to touch her, but on the evening of the third date, he not only tried, he wouldn't take no for an answer.

That was the first night he had taken her to his house. To Melissa it was more like a mansion, or a castle.

"You're even more beautiful tonight than ever," he said, his voice low and even.

"And you're more handsome," she said, "than the man I used to dream about as a little girl. I knew you'd come someday and carry me off to your castle."

"How would you like it to be your castle?"

"What?"

"Never mind," Carl said, his handsome face breaking into a wide grin. "We'll talk about that later."

Her body seemed to be flowing as she moved into his arms. Their bodies molded together as if welded by the heat of their mutual passion. He could feel her hard nipples burning into his chest.

Her arms went around his neck and his hands wound themselves in the silkiness of her hair, pulling her beautiful face toward him. His kiss was like fire as his tongue found hers in quick, darting movements. She returned the kiss with his own ardor, probing and searching his mouth, tasting its pent-up desire and sweetness.

Her body moved against his, lost in the rapture of her desire. Her movements became more intense; her hands moved across his strong shoulders down to the small of his back, kneading the flesh as they explored. She unfastened his belt and zipper, then fondled his hard cock. His meat virtually leaped into her caressing hand, throbbing and pulsating in the heat of his need for her.

He kicked his pants off, swept her into his arms and moved to the rug in front of the fireplace.

Gently, he set her on the rug and straightened to remove the rest of his clothes. When at last he was naked, he stood above her, the firelight dancing across his body.

The hard beauty of him drew her like a magnet. Melissa kissed his legs as her head moved upward until she was on her knees before him.

"It's mine," she breathed, smiling up at him.

She captured his prick with her lips, her head bobbing, moans of pleasure coming from her full throat, until Carl thought he would burst and it would be all over, at once.