Kitty Spencer - Three-way weekend

She screamed loudly, "Ooooohhhhhh, God! I'm… I… I'm… cum… mmmmmmm… innnnnnnggggggg." She jerked upward once with superhuman strength, then fell back, convulsing on the velour couch. Her legs beat against the softness of the cushions and her breath came in hoarse rasping gasps, as the violent, but exquisite, seizure rocked and wracked her body. She felt, momentarily, that she was one gigantic vagina, cumming, that every part of her was part of it… and rejoicing. Even above her own pleasure, however, was the sudden knowledge that the beautiful penis that had carried her to this peak of glory was pumping hot, thick spurts of male sperm deep up into her quivering belly. His hot liquid message of love mingled with her juices, and they formed a pool of bliss that shimmered and shone in the no-longer-lonely void of her uterus.

Her heart was pounding as though it were about to leap from her breast as a great lassitude akin to death, itself, swept over her. Her legs went limp, her hands fell to her side, and with the last vestiges of her rapidly fading consciousness she felt her vagina still quivering, still attempting to pay homage to the throbbing shaft of love still buried deep, deep inside. She was fainting… perhaps even dying, she thought… then simply let go… let it all go away… and drifted, drifted into sweet oblivion. Her last thought before the darkness came was, "Now… I know…"

As for Nino? He stared unbelievingly down at the blonde's unconscious figure. Christ, what was there about her that had caused him to get so hot? Always before with other broads he had been able to control his own passion, but not with her! Even now, asleep, her vaginal muscles continued to twitch occasionally around his cock. He honestly couldn't remember when he had cum as much as he did with her. He had flooded her womb with jism, and it had poured out of him and out of her as though someone had forgotten to turn off the tap. And his own reactions to all this bothered him; they were alarming thoughts – things he really didn't want to think about. He had wanted to fuck her… had wound up making love to her. Staring at her now, he felt only a great and bottomless gratitude to her and that wonderful young pussy. Slowly, and reluctantly, he pulled his flaccid cock from between her thighs and it came out with a slight plop, and with it came a veritable river of their warmly intermingled love juices.

"Elaine," he said softly. There was no answer. Slowly, he raised himself, walked to the book-shelf unit, and pulled out the concealed bed. Gently, he picked her naked form up in his arms and carried her across the room. He placed her, still asleep, on the double-bed… then covered her naked young body to protect it from the cold.

Then, thoughts still churning about his own reactions to her, he lay down beside her, and covered himself with the same bedspread.

As he drifted off to sleep, he was still wondering about the strange effect she had had on him – wondering about the consequences of becoming emotionally involved with her…

Carlo leaned back in his chair, taking in the scene around him with his usual practiced gaze. Inside, there were only a handful of warmly dressed tourists; outside, all of the patio tables were empty – the impending spring shower had driven all but a few stout-hearted tourists indoors. There was no money to be made today, he thought, as he lifted the cup to his lips, sipping tentatively at its hot contents. Alas, it was just as well; there was much too much to be done anyway. First there was the matter of Nino, and then he had to call Marceau and complete the arrangements for tonight… he let his thoughts drift, speculating on the satisfying possibilities it should bring…

Abruptly, his pleasurable thoughts were interrupted by a group of noisy tourists entering the cafe. "Damn," he swore under his breath, "where is that stupid, pussy-eater? He should have been here by now!" He glanced at his watch again – about the night before – and that sensuous blonde getting fucked silly…; and about the apartment – and how he had managed to sneak out after they had both fallen asleep. But, most of all, it had set him to thinking about tonight – and his plan…

It was simple, really. He knew the one thing above all others that would appeal to Nino. Not a girl. Not sex. No, it was neither of these. He would hit him where he lived – with greed, with the promise of money, wealth. And then he would take over from Nino – with that beautiful, salacious bitch… Elaine. He would teach her things Nino had never even thought of… He would make her beg for cock, and more cock, until she…

The spring shower broke without warning as Nino was hurrying along the street toward the cafe. Cursing, he hastily buttoned the jacket of his new lightweight suit and sprinted the final few yards. But the sudden rain was heavy enough to soak him even in those few minutes. When he entered the cafe, the sight of Carlo comfortably settled in one of the cafe's chairs, his long legs resting on top of another chair, did nothing to improve Nino's temper. Neither did Carlo's amused grin.

"Shit!" Nino spat out. He wrenched off his jacket and hurled it down on a vacant chair. "What a day I've had! And then I get caught in a cloudburst…" He threw himself into an adjacent chair and lit a cigarette.

"You're late," Carlo said. "You said you would be here by two o'clock. It's half-past now. And I told you that I'd be needing the apartment this evening."

The effect of Carlo's remark was explosive. It was what he had expected – and what he had wanted. Nino's face flushed a dull red and he leapt to his feet, his voice rising rapidly as the words gushed out.

"You need the apartment, huh? I suppose you think you own the place? Well, my claim is as good as yours and you know that I've got to have it tonight. I've already told Elaine we'll be going there, and if you think you can get away with this, then you're mistaken; I'll see you in hell first…"

Carlo lit himself another cigarette while Nino raved. When the torrent of words stopped for a second as Nino drew breath to continue his ranting, Carlo threw up his hands and said sharply: "Stop that and listen to me!"

His tone was commanding. In surprise, Nino stopped. "Now listen," Carlo went on when he was sure that he had the other's attention. "There's no need to get hysterical about this. I asked you to meet me so that we could discuss things sensibly."

"Who's getting hysterical?" Nino's voice was still pitched higher than it was normally, but he had slumped down into his chair again.

"It happens to be my turn to use the apartment," Carlo continued. "And for once, I'm going to take advantage of it. You've had the place plenty of times instead of me – in fact, you've been given almost a free run. But this time, I'm not fooling. I am using the apartment tonight."

A sulky pout turned down the corners of Nino's mouth. "I told you," he muttered, "that Elaine thinks we're going there tonight. How do I get out of that, tell me, eh?" He glared at Carlo, accusingly.

The answer he received was brisk and brought him out of his chair, sputteringly.

"What do you mean, Elaine and I are through?" Nino croaked, beating the table with his clenched fist. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do!"

Carlo smiled, his thin upper lip curled in contempt. He said nothing. Finally, Nino stopped beating the table, ground his teeth in impotent rage and slumped into his chair. He sat rigid for a few moments, his hands still clenched into tight fists. When he sat upright again, the expression on his face had changed. He adjusted his shirt and his tie, at the same time giving his friend a crafty look.

"Carlo, you know you only use the apartment for telephoning…" he began lamely, waiting.