Ann Crouse - Runaround Stews

At the sound of his words unraveling his plot like thread off a spool, she nervously tilted her glass and orange juice spilled on the zebra rug in a huge orange blob. "Oh, I'm so very sorry," she said, bending over to wipe it up with a kleenex from her bag.

Her breasts, dangling and free, swayed ponderously before her tilted torso, glistening in the meager light from the screen. A muffled hum came from the wall adjacent to the fireplace where the hidden camera projector-apparently set and ready for action at the flick of a switch-let off its bright beam.

Mike continued to puff wild circles of grey smoke in her direction and offered her a taste after each of his own long drags. His insistence was draining her strength and soon she was puffing away with him, passing the joint back and forth as if it were her normal behavior. Anything, she thought, to get out of here!

"Come sit on my lap, Ann," he beckoned her with an insistence not to be challenged.

The thought of this sleazy man putting his hands on her naked flesh was enough to send ripples of hesitation coursing through her body, and for a moment she thought she would have to excuse herself and head in the direction of the not yet discovered bathroom. It was too bizarre for words, thought Ann.

She felt his hands on her narrow waist, felt him drawing her to him, felt the stiff and obvious bulge beneath his slacks.

The movie was already in progress, but she could tell she hadn't missed much. The girl, a young Chinese, sat on a red tipped couch… Christi he had filmed it right here, and she was reading a book and sucking on a popsicle. She was wearing a pair of blood red doll pajamas, and apparently naked underneath.

"That's my ex-secretary," quipped Mike, breathing huskily into Ann's ear, his hand lopping sinisterly around her narrow waist.

Ann sat speechless.

The young Chinese, was really beautiful. She had long, long black hair, and the most radiant olive complexion Ann had ever seen. Her eyes, glimmering black, sparkled mischievously as she read her Playgirl magazine, now spreading the center fold out so her anticipated audience could appreciate the blond Nordic male who sat lewdly naked in a sailboat, with only a sailor's cap on his blond head. The girl in the movie turned the pages quickly now, and with the other hand gripped the popsicle. Her lush sensual lips, coated thickly with deep red lipstick, slicked up and down over the shaft of the red popsicle in an obvious parody of sexual intercourse. The camera zoomed in for an extreme close-up of the girl's fleshy lips clinging provocatively to the penis-like fruit on the outstroke.

"I'm a photographer, did you know?" Mike boasted.

Suddenly a man appeared on the screen, a black man. The girl in the movie appeared frightened then, and Ann jumped as she felt Mike's hand on her naked breast, surreptitiously slipped under the blue peignoir unnoticed moments before. But Ann knew it was inevitable; there was no way she could leave that room unscathed and she vowed to make the best of it. In her nervousness, she suggested another joint as the first had left her pleasantly light-headed and more accepting of her fate.

Mike continued his ministrations, he squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples to an infinite hardness, and then he took one puffy beige nipple into his evil mouth and began to suck on it with a lewd wet sound. It had been so long, too long, since any man had. been allowed the treasure of her sweet body and although she knew it was evil, that it would do her no good, she did not protest. It felt undeniably good!

The black man on the screen wore a trench coat with nothing beneath. He shrugged it off of his massive, hair-covered shoulders, letting it drop to a crumpled heap at his feet. From the rear, he looked like a huge ape, the blackness of his body and the curly hair of his chest made Ann gasp. At a closer glance, his enormous buttocks, flabby and the color of coal, dimpled obscenely as the black man approached the cowering girl.

Mike continued sucking on her swollen breasts, and in a position as lewd as the girl she was watching on the screen, Ann took another long hit off the joint and held her breath to the count of ten. Her mind reeled and whirled in dancing colors that flickered off the colored screen.

Her attention returned to the screen where the girl's hand covered her mouth in a rather convincing display of stark terror. Ann could feel her own lush buttocks quiver nervously on Mike's lap as she straddled him sideways, her hand now around his shoulders, her fingers playing idly in the curly hair at the nape of his neck as he continued to suck her now heaving breasts with mounting enthusiasm.

With her free hand, Ann put out the marijuana cigarette. She felt like rubber; she could be played with and stretched to any imaginable degree, and she'd feel nothing but numbness. Her attention was captured now by the black man on the screen whose lust-swollen penis jutted straight out from the matted thick hair of his loins like a spear head. It looked at least ten inches long… and still growing!

"Do you like to watch people make love?" Mike's soothing voice sounded like the innocent purr of a sleeping kitten.

"Yes, yessss."

The head of the black man's penis was as large as a nectarine and equally brilliant in color. It glistened ominously as it approached the cringing girl's mouth.

Skillfully now, Mike inched his gentle, yet powerful, hand toward the tender flesh of the blonde stewardess' naked white thighs that squeezed together so provocatively up above her stocking tops. With each rapid breath now, the marshmallow succulence of her well-sucked breasts melted into the features of his shadowed face. Her nipples, stiff as spikes, grew out of their puffy surroundings like tiny clitorises eager to be sucked.

Mike Boston laughed silently to himself. He'd seen this type before: the beauty queen trapped in an early marriage, loses her husband and clings desperately to the dream of meeting another man to fill that hole in her life: He'd seen the signs in most of his call girls; it was an old story. He had her now! She was mesmerized by the film and she was his new toy.

The black man reached forward and cruelly grabbed the Chinese girl's luxuriant mane of shimmering dark hair in his dark hand, jerking her head back viciously. His other hand shot forward in a tooth-jarring backhand that would have sent the girl sprawling backward but for his grip on her hair.

"Look at his penis, Ann. Does it look any different?"

"It's… my God! It's bigger!"

"He's a sadist," said Mike with measured precision.

Ann's trembling buttocks, naked below the clinching black strip of her garter belt, wriggled nervously on Mike's lap. She could feel the huge bulge beneath her thighs pulse and expand heatedly, and knew immediately what it was. Yet, curiously enough, there was something thrilling about being so close to the penis of a truly evil man, to feel it pressing against her naked flesh through the tweed of his slacks.

Her eyes returned to the screen again where, gripping his glistening gargantuan shaft by the base, the monstrous man was beginning to rub the blood-engorged head of his cock on the cringing girl's face, paying most attention to her full red lips, until her features began to shine with the sticky white nectar he smeared on them. Her eyes, opened wide and fluttered in anxious lustful desire.

"My God!" gasped Ann. "She really enjoys it!"

Then, miraculously, the ruby-red head of the giant's penis popped inside the straining lips of the Chinese girl. Somehow, though, it was beyond Ann's understanding, a cold shudder of delight spasmed deep in her own loins. It was exciting to watch that poor girl being subjected to evil… a strange kind of evil that was thrilling… just as she was almost being forced to stay in this apartment.