Lane Novak - Full-bodied babe

"Ready to come?" he asked. "M-m-m-m, yeah!" Babe exclaimed.

"No way," he scoffed, slowing down the pace.

Babe looked over her shoulder. "Huh?"

"No way I'm gonna let you come unless you beg for mercy," he insisted.

Babe bit her lip in frustration. She was ready to explode but knew she couldn't reach orgasm unless he drove her to it. "Okay,"she conceded. "Mercy."

"You call that beggin'?" he laughed. "Try again. Louder."

"Mercy!" Babe shouted.

"Again!" he demanded. "Beg for it,bitch!"

"Oh-h-h! Have mercy! Uh-h! Give it to me good! Fuck my cunt! Rub my clit! Stick your fingers up my ass! O-oh! Please! Please! I'm begging you!"

"That's more like it," Jo Jo snickered, driving all five of his fingers into Babe's yawning trap. "Now you'll get the fucking you richly deserve!"

He began pounding his hips against the cheeks of her ass, drilling his tool deeply into her drooling gash, his right hand saturated as he ground his knuckles against her torrid clit.

As if Babe didn't have enough to handle, Billy suddenly knelt before her, brandishing a fresh hard-on in her face. "I hate to see a beautiful mouth go to waste," he smiled, guiding his stiff pole between her parted lips.

Babe willingly accepted his cock, rolling her tongue around its bloated head before gobbling his solid stem down to the balls. Billy rested his hands on the top of her head and pumped his plump pecker down her gulping throat.

Meanwhile, Jo Jo kept jamming his fingers into Babe's mineshaft, humped her hot honeypot and pinched her pink pearl of a clit while grunting, "Uh-h! Uh-h! Uh-h! What a cunt! O-oo! Ah-h-h-h!"

The harder he fucked her, the faster Babe feasted on Billy's delectable dick. Savoring her sweet sucking, he reached under her arms to clutch her dangling tits and yank her nipples.

"Oh-h-h-h!" Billy groaned. "Suck that cock! Oh-h, baby, yeah! Eat me! Chew that bone, bitch! Ah-h-h-h! I wanna' come in your hot mouth! M-m-m!"

Babe fucked and sucked with a vengeance, racing toward an awesome climax. Both cocks slid in and out, in and out at opposite ends of her body. Her asshole burned with pleasure, her clit a powderkeg about to ignite.

Billy was the first to come, grabbing Babe by the scruff of the neck, thrusting his cock as far into her mouth as it would go and unleashing a deluge of warm cream that she hungrily swallowewd. The taste of his rich essence was enough to trigger Babe's orgasm. She became as rigid as a statue, flexing every muscle in her body, her snatch tightening its grip on Jo Jo's jabbing joystick, absorbing every inch.

Then she quivered and quaked, digging her nails into the mat, her flesh moist with a cold sweat.

Jo Jo took one last stab at her slit, forcing his hard meat deep into her succulent cavern, injecting his white juice into her luscious love canal. He grunted and groaned, writhing in absolute ecstasy, grinding his cock in her velvety vise until every drop of his bittersweet sap had filled her to the core.

At the pinnacle of pleasure, Babe felt herself losing consciousness. Her head began to spin, her body felt electrified, black spots appeared before her eyes. She collapsed like a rag doll, the side of her face pressed against the mat, her mind sliding away into darkness…

When Babe came to, she saw Jo Jo and Billy hovering over her with relieved expressions. A cold, wet cloth had been applied to her forehead and she was covered with someone's warm-up jacket.

"Are you okay?" asked Billy.

"Mm, what happened?" she moaned.

"You passed out," said Jo Jo.

"Really?" Babe seemed surprised. "That never happened to me before. That was some workout!"

"I guess it got a little out of hand," said Billy apologetically.

"Are you kidding?" said Babe. "It was great! A little intense, but great."

"Can we get you anything?" asked Jo Jo. "A drink, perhaps?"

"No, thanks," said Babe, sitting up with the jacket against her chest. "Mind if I slip into this?"

Jo Jo shrugged. "By all means."

"Ah… this may sound a little weird," said Billy, "but we haven't been introduced." "I'm Babe McKay," she told him.

"Babe McKay? Hm-m. Sounds familiar." "I'm in the business."

"A singer?"

Babe nodded proudly. "Lead vocal in an allgirl band."

"No shit," grinned Billy.

"Yeah. That's why I'm here. I heard you guys are looking for an opening act."

"We're looking for our own act," smirked Jo Jo.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're trying to get our shit together."

"What's the problem?"

"His Royal Highness is on Cloud Nine." "Who? What?"

"Derek. We call him His Royal Highness. He's stoned out of his mind twenty-four hours a ay.

"Derek's a junkie?" gasped Babe.

"Worse," sighed Billy. "He's an alcoholic. His bloodstream's ninety proof."

"He sits around the house all day talking to himself," said Jo Jo. "He won't practice, he won't sober up. We thought that announcing a tour would pull us together, but instead we're on the brink of a breakup."

"Haven't the rest of you tried to help him?" asked Babe.

"Of course we have. But Derek won't listen to anybody. The guy's bent on self-destruction."

"This is terrible!" Babe shuddered. "Why is he doing this to himself?"

"He can't handle life in the fast lane," Jo Jo assumed. "The fame, the fortune, the whole rat race of getting to the top and staying there."

"Where is he, anyway?" asked Babe.

"The attic."

"Where?"

"Upstairs. In his own ivory tower. It's his hiding place from the world. He just sits up there and drinks all day."

"Can I see him?"

"If you like, but I have to warn you, he doesn't like visitors."

"Well, that's too bad," said Babe, rising to her feet. "I'm going up there right now and I'm not coming down until he comes with me." "Good luck," muttered Billy, casting a skeptic glance at Jo Jo.

Babe marched upstairs, determined to bring Derek to his senses. When she reached the attic at the top of a narrow flight of steps, however, she found the door locked. She rapped gently. No response. She knocked harder. No answer. She pounded on the door.

"Who's there?" A groffy voice demanded. "A friend," she replied.

"I don't have any," Derek shot back. "Go away!"

"Open up," Babe insisted. "I need to see you."

"I don't want to see anybody, friend or foe!" Babe sighed and tried a different tact. "I brought you something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Something to drink," she said.

There was a moment of silence, then Derek unlocked the door. As he opened it, Babe barged in.

"Hey! Who the hell are you, anyway?" Derek grumbled, garbed only in a black silk robe and holding an empty glass in his hand. His spiky brown hair was disheveled, his eyes at half-mast and his face shrouded with two-day's growth of beard.

"My name is Babe McKay," she introduced herself.

"Where's the booze?" he asked.

"You don't need anymore of that," said Babe, slamming the door shut.

"That's what you think," Derek muttered.

"My God," Babe shuddered. "Look at yourself."

"I'd rather not, thank you very much," he quipped, staggering around the attic, tripping over an assortment of accumulated junk. "Well, how do you like the place? I'd have tidied up if I knew you were coming." He tried to catch one more drop of whiskey on the tip of his tongue, but when he realized the glass was dry, he tossed it aside, smashing it against the wall. "This room is a replica of the inside of my brain," he rambled. "Note the clutter."

"Perhaps if you'd stop drinking, your mind would be clear," Babe suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Listen, I've got some scotch. Care for a sip?"

Babe gaped in disbelief as Derek reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. Impulsively, she snatched the booze from his hand and smashed the bottle against the wall.