Robert Desmond - House of Evil

Newton could see the smooth velvet folds of her vagina clasping him, squeezing tightly around his erected throbbing prick, her small dainty mouth hanging open as she slammed back against the silver-haired older man to receive every fraction she could get of his long fleshy rod.

"Jesus Christ, look at that little pussy work!" Newton gasped in awe, his eyes afire with a strange glow of pride as he gazed at the pink stretched lips of his wife's young pussy being pulled out to a pout and then pushed back into her on George's in-stroke. "I never realized she's such a cock-hungry bitch…"

"Sometimes that's the whole problem," Dolores explained in a sensuous tone. "Most men don't have any idea that their women usually want to be fucked silly or that often they even want to be treated like whores… just so they can enjoy a whore's power."

"I didn't know that," the young husband mumbled.

"Well, don't worry about it right now – there's plenty of time to learn," the blonde consoled. "Watch Nadalee."

God, it was true! Newton suddenly realized. His eyes were still glued to his ravishingly beautiful wife's hungry cock-swallowing vagina and he knew beyond a doubt that she had been holding herself back all this time for his sake. He could see that she had finally broken free and was now completely oblivious to everything around her as her lust-maddened youthful body strove toward climax. He sensed that she was on the brink of cumming from the tiny bright devils of light dancing in her unseeing eyes and from the way her slim white belly bucked and heaved as though an all-consuming wildfire raged out of control inside her. Sweat dripped from her body as she drove wildly toward the end.

And then the inevitable happened.

Nadalee screamed and began a spasmodic flailing movement, pushing her ass back violently against the cock to plant its goring head even deeper in her womb. The cheeks of her face turned suddenly red and the cords in her neck flexed as her cum juice flowed wetly out around her employer's long thick prick, her mind whirling in depraved sensuality.

"Shit, oh shit, I'm cumming, I'm cumming – awwwwwwwwggggggghhh!" George Blackwell groaned, the sound like a tearing of gears in his throat, his hot sperm squirting deep, deep into her clenching glove-like cuntal passage. She could feel it sloshing into her in great torrents, deflating his jerking cock with each thin searing spurt that flooded her quivering tummy.

Later, after everyone had recovered enough to dress, George ordered Braun to serve everyone a stiff shot of brandy from the special stock reserved for rare occasions. They sat around discussing topics at random, seldom mentioning anything about the events during the last two days. Nadalee began to feel almost comfortable around the older couple, reassured by their seeming change of attitude toward her since her encounters with Braun, Buck, and finally, George himself. She noticed that Newton was a little withdrawn, thoughtful, and yet he did not seem to feel the hostility toward her that she had naturally expected.

"I hate to break this up, kids, but I've got some important telephone calls to make," George announced regretfully, rising then to stand towering over the still-seated young couple. "You two might have that farm sooner than you think if things keep working out the way they have been lately."

"Oh, that reminds me," Dolores chimed in as she rose to stand beside her husband. "Come to work at noon tomorrow… Tomorrow night's the big party, you know, so you'll be… working… rather late."

"Okay, Mrs. Blackwell, don't worry," Newton said with great earnestness. "We don't mind, do we, honey?"

"No-no, I guess we don't," Nadalee agreed, heaving a deep sigh of relief as she encircled her handsome husband's waist with both hands, a broad smile breaking across her pretty, slightly freckled face. "We're looking forward to it…"

As Newton and Nadalee passed in front of the middle-aged couple on their way to the doorway, the tall young husband grinned impishly and handed George the packets of expensive tobacco the millionaire had sent him to town for that morning.

Outside, as they picked their way along the narrow trail toward the cottage, Nadalee could not help but feel little surges of joy. Newton seemed to have forgiven her, they still had every chance in the world for the farm, and just as important, she felt more alive than ever before.

"It's sure pretty out there, ain't it, honey?" Newton asked suddenly as he gazed out across the glinting motionless mirror of the lake and then up over the tall looming evergreens at the sun burning in the late afternoon like a great red eye. "It's funny how even the Bible doesn't have much to say about wild places like this."

"Yes, Newton, it is funny… But it doesn't matter – not now. Everything seems to be okay."

"By God, that's for sure! I feel great!" the handsome young man half-shouted. "I can hardly wait to get you in bed… Come on, let's walk faster."

At nine o'clock the next evening, the party was in full progress. Deafening blasts of over-amplified exotic music echoed through the lavish rooms of the palatial Blackwell mansion, underscored by a constant babble of conversation and revelry. The women wore chic, low-cut evening gowns, the men semi-formal dress, and yet the mood of the raucous party was anything but decorous. Everyone in sight was swayingly drunk and couples were openly embracing and boldly caressing one another's bodies, heedlessly, not caring who saw them, nor even much about whom they were with as long as the other person was even a little attractive.

Suddenly, the music was shut off and George strode through the noisy crowd in the main living room with a bright yellow megaphone in one hand. The huge man stepped up on a great round coffee table and raised the gaudy-colored device to his mouth.

"May I have your attention, please! Dolores and I have arranged some exciting entertainment for you… If you're interested, go to the main downstairs dining room – you all know where it is – in exactly twenty minutes… Everything will be ready for you, chairs and all… And tell the others who aren't here in this room about it… That's all for now… Have a ball!"

At least forty of the Blackwells' "special" friends from San Francisco were seated in almost total darkness on comfortable chairs and sofas that had been hastily set up in the large dining room after dinner. It was exactly nine-twenty and the darkened room was quiet except for occasional grunts and wet mumbling sounds that came from behind what appeared to be a makeshift curtain draped over a portion of the south end of the dining area.

"AAAAAeeeeee, aaaaagggggghhhhh!" come a scream of murderous pain as the curtain was drawn open and an intensely bright spotlight flashed on a group of figures entangled on a huge thick mattress covered in shiny black. Gasps and murmurs of approval rippled through the audience as they leaned forward to focus their eyes on the lewd spectacle before them. They saw Nadalee arched over a low leather-roll stool, tied hand and foot, her rounded white buttocks presented up in sacrifice to the bald moron, Braun, who knelt behind her. He was grinning sadistically down at his inhumanly long thick cock sunk halfway into the beautiful young redhead's virginal wide-stretched asshole. In front of her, her lithe brown-haired husband knelt on his knees, both of his hands grasping her head as he fucked his hard throbbing cock in and out of his beautiful eighteen year-old wife's warm wet mouth.

"Uuuuuhhhhh," Braun grunted as he rammed forward hard until his loins collided with a loud smack against the soft white upraised cheeks of the kneeling girl's smooth creamy buttocks. He began to saw viciously in and out of the tortured back-passage, groaning over and over as the tight elastic flesh of her rectum clamped hungrily on the entire length of the massive hardness.