Don Hotey: Lawfully wedded nymph

"Good, good!" he said. He hit the arm of his wheel chair for emphasis. "Then you are a woman after my own heart. I, too, was a sensualist. I spent my whole life, my whole fortune in amassing every conceivable sexual experience. Look around you. At these books. The world's largest private erotic library. Every book a treasure."

I looked around-me in amazement. Every book in the room: pornographic! It was hard to imagine.

"In my lifetime, my dear, I have made love to, seduced more women than ten men could in one hundred lifetimes. I have made love to queens, my dear. Royalty! Actresses, heiresses, the wives of ^millionaires. Some of the most beautiful women in the world. Some names, that if I would tell you, you would be shocked. Shocked."

He sighed deeply, moving his hands weakly around in front of him in a helpless gesture.

"But," he said, sadly, tiredly, "no more. That part is over for me. Over for many many years. So now I make films, sexual films, and I watch others doing what I cannot. I find the most beautiful women in the world, women like yourself, and I couple them with men who are equipped with formidable sexual equipment. I film those coupling for myself, and I watch them, using their youthful passion to rekindle the final, dying ember of my own. Sexuality is a very solitary experience for me now. Very… lonely."

He brushed aside his mood again, like any annoying fiy buzzing inside of his brain.

"Enough," he said. "Let us get on with the reason for your visit. If you would be so kind as to push me, my dear." He indicated the wheel chair.

I felt sorry for him, and I moved to help him. "Which way, Mr. Burroughs?"

Through that door, back down the hallway, and to the right. It's the first door."

I followed his instructions, knocking on the door. It opened, and a young man in a blue demin shirt held it open for us. I pushed the wheel chair into the room.

I saw immediately the room was decorated like a motion picture studio. There were rows of bright lights above us, snakes of cabled wires littering the floors, and huge, professional movie cameras set up in strategic places in the room. There was a bed in the center of a spotlight, very brightly illuminated. I suspected that was my stage.

The man in the denim work shirt took Mr. Burroughs from me, and pushed the chair across the tangled floor to a position near the bed, but just outside of camera range. I wandered over to them and stood at his side.

"Forgive me, Sally," the old man said. "I forgot to introduce you. Sally Bryant, this is Lance Kemmel-man. Lance is our cameraman." I said hello.

"I don't know whether you are a motion picture fan, Sally, but Lance here is a very famous Hollywood cameraman. He has already received an Academy Award for…" He named a very famous film that I had seen the previous year. It was a fantastic financial as well as artistic success. I remembered the film work vividly.

I was impressed and I think it showed. I think I said something inane.

Lance laughed, and the old man joined him. ‹sYou see, Sally," Mr. Burroughs said, "what you can do if you have money. There is almost nothing that you cannot buy." Lance laughed. "You should see some of the films 156 Mr. Burroughs has in his private vault. Films of world famous actors and actresses… performing for him for pay. Some of them Award winners." He named an unbelievably well-known husband and wife team.

Mr. Burroughs waved his hand again. "Enough, enough. Look, Billy is here already."

I turned, and standing there, stark naked was a slender, blondhaired boy. I say boy because I'm sure he could not have been older than fifteen or sixteen. He had a slender, almost effeminate build, with thin arms and legs, flat stomach and ribs pushing through his gauntly pulled flesh. His body was completely hairless, even his pubic region, but that wasn't what made my breath suck in so deeply. It was the sight of his cock. It was longer and thicker than any organ I have ever seen in my life. I guessed that it had to be at least ten inches long. I found out later that it was closer to eleven inches in length.

I think my mouth must have dropped open, and I know that I felt an unmistakable throb in my cunt. My mouth went very dry, and I couldn't help staring at the fantastic organ. It looked like the end of a baseball bat.

Billy saw me staring, and he touched himself with his shallow hand. He caressed his mighty weapon, sliding his hand protectively, proudly up and down the endless pink shaft. He said: "Hello."

I answered him, I think, suddenly very frightened and envious. I ached to touch that colossal hardness, to see if it were real, and I hated his hand for the ease with which he fondled it. But my cunt was terrified. There was no way, no possible way that I could get that log inside of me without ripping me in two. "Hello," I finally answered. "My God."

Burroughs laughed, without any envy, and a sort of strange pride. I think he almost identified with Billy.

'It is impressive, isn't it?" he said. "And more so because of his tender age. Billy's not yet sixteen, are you, lad?" Til be sixteen on November 9th," she said.

Burroughs shook his head. "Can you imagine, Sally, what Billy will be like when he has fully matured? Can you imagine that?"

I could hardly imagine it. I could hardly believe what I saw right in front of me. I was overwhelmed.

"Why don't you go over and touch it, Sally?" Burroughs suggested. "Go ahead."

I moved as if I were in a dream. The heat of the spotlight burned against my flesh like some miniature sun, and I could feel perspiration collecting already between my breasts. I walked forward, with my back to the two men watching me, and I reached out and touched Billy.

"My… God," I muttered. I could barely grasp it. My fingers couldn't go around the shaft it was so thick. I slid my hand slowly tip and down, deep, deep strokes until I touched his hairless belly, then stroking back up again until I squeezed the thick spongy head between my fingers. It felt cool and hard, like a column of ivory. "It's.,. fantastic."

"Enough, enough," Burroughs shouted. "Let us get on with the filming."

I let go of Billy and turned around. I was trembling with excitement and terror. I shaded my eyes and looked into the glare of the lights, at the two men standing in the shadows. I was waiting for instructions.

"How do you want to do it?" Lance asked the old man. "Do you want to do some secondary shots first? Build the story line?"

"No, let's get down to the action sequences first," the man in the wheel chair said. "Use a handheld camera, Lance, and get in there close with them. I want some clear, vivid detail. I want it to seem like the camera is a part of the experience."

Lance nodded, and he went off In the shadows, after his camera and equipment.

I stepped towards the old man, the hand still shading my eyes. "What should I do?" I asked. Even to me it sounded like a foolish question.

"My dear, the first thing you should do is remove your clothing. And then go and make love to Billy. Make love to him, don't act. Enjoy it. Enjoy as if you were alone with him. Forget that we are here. Just make love to that wonderful cock of his, Sally. Do what comes natural."

I turned and stared at Billy. He was caressing his cock again, as if he were preoccupied with it. He looked up at me and smiled vacantly.

"Don't worry, Sally." Lance said, stepping into the spotlight. "If you get stuck, I'll tell you what to do. Just relax… and enjoy it."

I laughed nervously and began to undress. Lance watched me appreciatively, whistling at my nakedness. Billy hardly took notice. He was more interested in his cock. I imagine it was difficult for him to consider anyone but himself as a love object. He was a man who was literally in love with his own cock. "Okay," Lance instructed, "why don't you get up 159 on the bed, Billy." He looked through the eye of the camera, then tested the brightness with the light meter.