Jason Cannon - Marcy in heat

From the manner in which her tongue was pulsating within his mouth, Fred knew she was going to shoot an orgasm. It was a very thrilling moment for him and he slowed his pounding in order to give her more time.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Ted whispered. "Fuck a load into her, will ya'?"

Fred didn't hear. He didn't want to hear.

Marcy didn't want her arms pinned back. She wanted them around Fred.

But each knew they had to finish what they had started, and Marcy used her tongue to tell him to start.

She pushed her tongue deeply into his mouth. Its tip nearly touched his throat and he knew she was telling him to fuck her deeply.

Fred raised his ass and rammed into her with far more force than Ted had used earlier. As hard as he pounded, and as hard as he looked into her bottomless eyes, he couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling.

She was loving it, but she didn't dare admit it.

When he came, it shot up into her cunt with such force that she wrapped her legs around him, instinctively, with all the strength she had.

With her legs around him, she was able to lift her ass off the ground, and this tilted her cunt passage. The change in position somehow aided his pulsations and the force of his ejaculation was one of the strongest he had ever felt.

It was so intense that Fred didn't know whether she had come or not. Her body didn't tell him. Her eyes did.

She had come.

With a sigh of both relief and desperation, Fred rolled off her body and stuffed his limp, wet dick back into his pants.

Standing above her, he put out a hand and helped her up. When she was on her feet, he bent over to kiss her and managed to say only that he was sorry, very sorry.

"Not half as sorry as you're gonna be, you son-of-a-bitch," Marcy said.

Marcy flipped the large flight bag onto the bed, opened it, and spread the various outfits out. She was almost finished when Fred entered the room, a camera hanging by a leather strap around his neck.

He looked like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar as he stood in front of her, barely speaking above a whisper. "When do you want us?"

She continued arranging clothes as she spoke. "Take that air vent off between the main room and the bar. You can come through there and get, some good angles. Tell Ted to use the transom from in here. He can move that chest over there to stand on. He can push it in front of the door." She turned and faced him, her legs spread, her hands on her hips. "And be sure to get a lot of his face… you hear?"

"Yeah, Marcy," he said, and turned away from her.

"And Fred?"

"Yeah?"

"If you do a good job of this, maybe I'll do one on you later."

"No thanks, Marcy. What we did to you was wrong, but what you're doing to this guy is worse."

He left and returned to the clothes on the bed, shrugging.

She was pleased with herself. After they thought they had raped her, she had really laid into them. She had cried and screamed rape. She had told them that they would have to kill her to keep her from going to the police the minute she got back to town.

That was when Fred took over. She had both frightened him and stirred him. He would do anything she said.

Ted wasn't so easy. "You want us to take pictures of you screwing some minister? That sounds like blackmail to me," Ted said. "No thanks."

"If you don't, I go to the police," Marcy said.

"That's blackmail, too," Fred said.

"That's right," Marcy said, "take your choice!" She was chuckling at her own creativity as the buzzer on the suite's front door rang. She checked her watch: eight o'clock sharp. "You're prompt, Reverend, very prompt," she said aloud, and checked her hair and the revealing gown she wore. Then she went into the main room.

She looked around to see Ted enter the bedroom and made sure the vent to the bar was gone. Then she lowered the lights and opened the door.

"Marcy…"

"Good evening, Reverend Morris. Come in! The other two girls aren't here yet, but I'm sure they'll be along shortly. Here, let me take your coat."

She got him seated on the same sofa where she had fucked the desk clerk the day before, and brought him a soft drink.

"We have something a little stronger, if you prefer," she said.

"No… this will be fine," he said. "Now, what should I know?"

"You'll find out," she said, and excited to the bedroom.

The first outfit was a cotton, slip-over dress. As she moved in front of him, she explained that, besides the clothes, he should bear in mind that there was also a prize for the model who did the best job of showing the clothes off.

He nodded in agreement, somewhat mystified by everything she told him, but gamely trying to understand.

The second dress was very low in front, with the sides split clear up to her hips, so all of her thigh and just a suggestion of her panties showed with each step she took. Marcy thought she could see just the suggestion of perspiration on his forehead as his eyes followed every step she took.

She knew if she could get that much of a rise out of him with a dress covering most of her body, the shortie pajamas she planned next would have ten times that effect. After all, she thought, he was a man.

She was right. The bra outlined the full roundness of her breasts beneath the flimsy top. And even though there were three layers of thin material between his eyes and the dark mound of her pussy hair, she knew if he strained had enough he could make out her cunt where it nestled between her firm thighs.

He strained and she was sure he saw. He shifted in his seat and tried to pull the sweater he was wearing over the prominent bulge that had started to rise in the front of his pants.

She knew now it was only a matter of time. But, to be safe, she returned with a short skirt and a body stocking under it that snapped over her crotch. She flounced and moved around the runway in time to the music, still keeping up a little running chatter to keep him confused.

When she was sure that he was slowly sliding down in his seat in order to find out what she was wearing underneath, she stopped the chatter and started unfastening the skirt.

"A… Marcy," he said, "I don't think…"

The skirt fell away, revealing the body stocking, and stopped his speech in mid-sentence. Even though he was relieved to see that there was something under the skirt besides underwear, he still found the sight of her firm buttocks and the clearly defined ridge of her pussy erotic in the taut material.

When she reached for her crotch to undo the snaps and he failed to object, she knew he was lost. And when she started to draw the garment up over her breasts and, he slid his hand down over his own crotch, she knew the game was over.

She stood in front of him, weaving slightly, with her pelvis thrust forward. Her dark pubic hair protruded around the crotch band of her panties. Her nipples were half out of the bra as if the material couldn't contain their swollen fullness.

"Would you like to feel the material?" she said. "It's very soft, and smooth, and…" He raised his hand, but couldn't bring himself to touch her. She took the hand and ran it lightly over her breasts where the nipples were already bursting from the material. Then she slid it down across her body to the band of her panties.

She moved one of his fingers under the band until he felt the soft, curling hair. Then she released his hand and it took on a life of its own. He caressed her pussy through the material while his breath came in longer and louder gasps. He slid his fingers around the band of cloth covering her moistened slit and ran two of them inside her.

She spread her legs slightly and started removing his sweater, shirt and tie. He was hypnotized by her body and the musk rising from her seeping pussy. When she pulled the clothing from his shoulders, he merely shifted his hands on her cunt.