Gloria Day - House of dark pleasure

He could see the cleft in her bottom opening and closing as Doris leaned forward – Willis' hand groped at the front of his pants, unfastened them – then gripped the thick shaft that protruded.

Doris turned around, showing the thick thatch of hair on her abdomen; showing, too, wet pink lips that rubbed against each other as she moved.

Willis' eyes were glued on the white, shimmering thighs and the exciting red slit between. His hand moved slowly, caressingly, as he massaged his swollen organ.

Doris picked up the green dress, held it in front of her naked body, scrutinized herself in the mirror. Her back was to Willis, and he could see the ripples running up and down her thighs and her buttocks as Doris swayed herself slightly.

His excitement increased; his hand moved more quickly.

She walked back to the bed, green dress in her hand, then sat on the edge, staring at the dress thoughtfully. After a moments she dropped onto her back, legs dangling over the side of the bed, and let the dress slip out of her hand.

Her thighs parted, then she stroked the insides of her legs with slow, lingering movements. Gradually, her hands moved higher – her thighs parted more widely – and Willis could see the red slot of Doris' sexual cavern stretching open.

She touched a wet vaginal lip with a fingertip – then a tremor ran through her flesh. Her eyes closed, then she jerked up her heels until they were propped on the edge of the bed. Her knees fell apart and she stabbed a trembling finger into the wet sponginess of her vulva.

Willis watched the finger sinking into the soaking tissue, and the vulva seemed to suck it, draw it inward deeper and deeper as though it was a hungry mouth.

The round ball at the end of his penis expanded, throbbed painfully. He closed his fingers on it, squeezed with sex-excited strength.

A slim, pink spire slid up from the top of Doris' sexual slit, and she used her other hand – to touch it, press it, squeeze it with exquisite pleasure. Her mouth opened and closed as she drew in gulps of air.

Willis' breath panted from his nostrils, and his body stiffened as he slithered his hand from the swelling base of his shaft to the hard, round ball at the end. His knees had begun to tremble, and the chair that he stood on vibrated gently with each movement.

Doris had lifted her buttocks, and her finger thrust in more deeply, pulled out soggily, dragging clinging tissue with it. Her clitoris had enlarged, and she tormented it with her finger and thumb, pinching it, pulling it and squeezing. Her hips began to undulate up and down.

Willis' body began to sway in sympathy with the girl on the bed; he gripped the cheeks of his bottom tightly together, pressing forward with his scrotum, feeling the thrills flicker through the length of his sexual shaft. Small drops of moistness dripped from the slitted lips in the mouth of his organ. He made low, wet sounds of lust and desire as the sweat broke out on his body.

Doris was masturbating with frenetic movements; her knees had spread open like the petals on a flower, and between – her sexual bud was squirming and writhing as she teased it and pleased it, tormented and titillated it with soft, then vicious, manipulations.

Willis could feel his excitement crescendoing to an obscene climax. His hand gripped tightly as his organ writhed of its own accord, and he felt the spasms wrenching through the shaft.

Doris' eyes opened, then dilated and she drew in her cheeks, biting them with her teeth as she squeezed on the tip of her clitoris. The jerks started: shattering through her flesh; making her thighs writhe – slap closed then pry open – as she dug deep inside her soaking vulva. Suddenly, a high wail came from her lips reaching Willis' ears and bringing his excitement to an unbearable peak – as she orgasmed and fluid seeped from her vagina and dampened the cover on the bed.

Willis choked back a groan as his penis jerked sickeningly; then he leaned back from the waist, precariously, as he felt the thick, painful spurts squirting from the spitting lips in the grossly enlarged head of his organ.

"Urgh…" he groaned, orgasming violently. "Urgh-girl-cunt urgh!"

He saw Doris' body relaxing; her eyes closing as satiation spread through her body. Vaginal fluid still trickled from within her, and Willis watched it, muttering to himself: "Ah'm gonna fuck you, girl-cunt-gonna fuck!"

Then he stepped down off the chair, legs shaky, body trembling, and squatted on his haunches. His penis, huge but limp, dangled between his legs like a vicious but dormant snake. "Gonna fuck you, girl-cunt…" he muttered over and over.

"So she's the secretary," said Mabel Williams to the chauffeur.

He shrugged, gave a sardonic smile. "That's what Mildred says…"

"I didn't see her when she was here before. She's a pretty young girl," said Mabel.

They were talking in the kitchen. Mabel was preparing a meal, while George Bateman was sipping at a glass of beer.

"Naturally," he said, "she wouldn't have got one that wasn't nice looking." He took a gulp of his drink, then muttered, "Sexy figure, too…"

Mabel answered with her back to the chauffeur. "I suppose…" she paused, then: "D'you think-think that she's got her for him?"

George shrugged. "What else?"

Mabel continued with her work, then she murmured: "I feel kinda sorry for her, though…" she hesitated, then: "I'm glad in a way…"

George jerked his head up: Mabel's face was red. "I suppose it'll make it easier for you," he muttered. "Take some of the load off you." His voice was bitter.

Mabel's flush became deeper. "Something like that," she whispered.

"The son-of-a-bitch!" George spat out the words. "Why d'you let him?"

Mabel didn't answer his question. "D'you know what he did to me last night?" she asked in a shocked whisper.

"You don't hafta tell me," George muttered.

Mabel put her lips close to George's ear and whispered: "Up the back of me," she hissed. "Right into my bottom…" she panted with emotion, "he-he pried open the cheeks and stuck his big thing in me. I-I thought it was going to tear me wide open… or burn me." Mabel's hand went behind her and she stroked the ample flesh of her buttocks tenderly, as though she could still feel a gross organ piercing into her anal canal. "His stuff," she mouthed, "was scalding hot spurtin' right inside me."

"Why?" George forced out the word. "I mean – why up the back?"

Mabel hung her head, breathed out the shame-filled words. "He… he said he wanted somethin' tight, somethin' that'd wrap around his cock – squeeze the stuff outa him." She looked down and her voice went even lower. "He… he said I was too loose – that he didn't get the same kick outa-outa screwin' my pussy any more!"

"The bastard!" George's face was white. He reached out for Mabel, encircled her waist with his arm. "Why-why'd'you let him?"

Mabel stroked George's head absently. "You-you know why – you know what they – what she – pays me!"

He didn't answer.

"How much d'you think I'd get for just being a cook?" she asked, bitterly. "You know that I hafta do it." She bent down, looked into George's face. "And you do things, too, George – she makes you do things, doesn't she?"

"That's different," he muttered. He slipped his hand under Mabel's skirt, found bare thigh-flesh, then slid his fingers inside her panty-leg, caressed her. "I hafta do it – to keep my job!"

Mabel heard his words but she was thinking of something else. "I suppose that's why they got her," she murmured.

George didn't follow her. "What?"

"This young girl – this secretary – I suppose that's what she's for! He wants a nice snug cunt to fuck so his dear mother gets him one…"