Calvin Mason - Gang bang sisters

"More!" Cynthia called again, with giggles from the onlookers.

The slap of rubber on smooth flesh rang out and Ed drove his tongue farther into the tight opening.

Cynthia forgot everything now, feeling only the invasion of the slippery meat in her rectum. She continued to chant, "More."

With the sting of the paddle this time, Ed resigned himself to give it all he had. He curled his tongue and snaked it into her as far as he could.

"More… more… more…" she moaned, the paddle smacking each time, with Ed sweating, squirming and twisting his tongue with all his might. "Mmmmmm…" was the last sound Cynthia made, having her orgasm and finally satisfied.

The others were much easier to satisfy and the line moved quickly. Some wiggled away when his lips barely touched the sensitive area, because it tickled; others were satisfied with a quick plunge of his tongue in their tight tunnels. Only Margaret Leche wasn't happy with their easy-to-satisfy nature. She didn't get to paddle his ass any more. She was also the only one he didn't have to ream.

The last in the line was the masked guest, who stepped before him and slowly lifted her robe. She was facing him, obviously teasing him with the slowness in which she picked up the robe. It began to get to him too, as her long, shapely legs began to appear. The robe finally arrived at the junction of her legs and Ed's eyes were straining to see beyond. She made him suffer awhile before inching it higher, slowly revealing a soft triangle of golden-blonde hair. His mouth began to water.

Then she opened the clasp on her robe, revealing her pear-shaped breasts with the same slow tease, before dropping the robe to the floor. She ran her hands sensuously over her body, milking her tits invitingly and offering him all her goodies with the sexiest motions.

Ed Cramer was drooling by now. He wanted this beautiful, long-legged body more than anything else, forgetting the sting on his ass and the ordeal he had just experienced.

She turned, bent over, backing up with her hands spreading the beautifully matched globes of firm soft, white flesh. Ed didn't need prodding this time; he licked all around the white meat, her asshole, and as far as he could reach between her legs. Slowly but forcefully he snaked his tongue into her asshole and reamed the walls passionately. When she couldn't stand it any longer she forced his tongue out, using the strong muscles in the pulsing tunnel.

"I want you," he whispered hoarsely.

"First there is just one other thing we have to do," Tom Dunn said. "Let me have the paddle, Margaret, and you get down and kiss Ed's ass."

Margaret got down on her knees, licked the tender cheeks she had brought to a bright-red color with the paddle and snaked her tongue into his rectum. When Tom started paddling her fat ass she seemed to enjoy it more, twisting her tongue harder and harder into his asshole.

Finally Ed was untied and brought over to the sacrifice table, where the girl was stretched out, naked except for the mask. Tom just waved him on, with a sweep of his hand, that indicated he was on his own.

Hastily, Ed climbed on the table between her legs and drove his cock into her receptive cunt. As he lowered his body onto hers, Tom moved to the head of the table, smiled at him and slowly removed the mask from the girl.

"Laura!" Ed said, shocked at the sight of his sister.

"Mmmmmm… I never knew I had such a sexy brother," she cooed in his ear.

Ed had dreamed of this moment for many years, never breathing a word to anyone that he secretly wanted his sister. But now… in her like this… it was like all he ever thought it would be – and more.

As Tom watched the couple squirm on the table, his eye caught something on the wall. He looked quickly and saw the mysterious glow, only this time it vaguely resembled the figure of a man, with two black spots where the eyes would be and what appeared to be a grin on its mouth. It weaved and moved, giving Tom only a blur that he couldn't bring into focus. All he could do was stare, almost hypnotized by the waving motion as it seemed to dance on the wall. Then it disappeared.

The others were all in the swing of it now, scattered all over the mattresses in a mass of moving arms and legs. They didn't notice the glow on the wall, probably wouldn't care at this point anyway.

Tom slipped out, got dressed and went down to the bar in the bowling alley to get a shot of whiskey to steady his nerves. An hour later he had drunk himself into a stupor, almost to the point of passing out. Fortunately, Charles' uncle appeared, took him outside and got his head cleared in the cold night air, before driving Tom home.

Once Tom reached the front steps of his house he was in reasonably good shape again, thanked Art for getting him home, then stood on the steps waving as Art drove off. As soon as the car was out of sight, he made a quick dash for the corner bar and plunged back into the relief of his drunken stupor. When he finally passed out, he was gently deposited in a corner booth and left there until the bar closed.

Even then, as he wobbled up the street to his house, he could think of nothing but that glow on the wall. It seemed more threatening now that his head was like mashed potatoes. He was almost afraid to go up the dark stairs to his apartment thinking the spirit might be biding in his bedroom. But logic swept back into his head long enough to convince him that it was all a hoax.

"I tell you I saw the damn thing on the wall and it looked like the Devil himself," Tom said, while Charles and Jay looked at him in disbelief.

"It doesn't make sense," Charles said. "If everyone was fucking away on the mattresses and the windows are all painted black, how the hell could anyone flash a light on the wall?"

"If I knew the answer to that I wouldn't be worried about it," Tom answered honestly.

"You don't… suppose…?" Charles couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Hey, maybe it's the Devil!" Jay said it for him.

"I don't know what to think," Tom said.

"Do you think we should dissolve the club?" Charles asked nervously.

"No, not yet." Tom was coming up with an idea now. "Let's play it by ear. If it's someone playing a joke, we'll catch the motherfucker. If not… we'll just disappear and not go back any more."

"You don't suppose he'd follow us, if we stopped going, do you?" Charles was beginning to sound spooked by the whole thing.

"I can't bring myself to believe it's anything supernatural. Let's face it, we're only screwin' around. The whole mass is done ass-backwards, without any attempt to worship Satan. I'm sure there are groups all over trying to get him to appear – and he doesn't materialize for them. Why should he materialize for us?"

"Don't be too sure," Jay cut in. "A guy told me he went to a meeting and the Devil showed up in the form of a black goat."

"Most of those things are a hoax," Tom said. "The people running the show do that goat stuff to scare the others and get them to make donations."

"Let's not take any chances," Charles warned. "And everybody keep his eyes open at the next meeting."

Again they made a thorough search of the store and rooms in an attempt to find a logical explanation for the strange phenomenon. But the search didn't provide a single clue as to what was happening.

"Let's go about this scientifically," Tom finally said. "First of all, what do we know about this thing?"

"Not a damn thing," Charles moaned with discouragement, with Jay nodding agreement.

"That's where you're wrong," Tom said, pleased with the opportunity to show off his superior intelligence. The challenge would have even been welcome if it weren't for the fact that it threatened the club, which was giving them better sexual entertainment than they could ever hope to find elsewhere. "We know for a fact that it's not caused by passing traffic; that it's not coming through the transoms; and based on the shape, with the vague appearance of eyes and mouth, we can assume it's manmade."