Web fucked deeply into her warm velvet soft mouth with his tongue and his prick jerked irritably in jealousy, still imprisoned between their naked bodies. Never mind. He was going to bury his cock up to the hilt in that sweet little pussy in short order. She was getting hotter by the second and he was going to ignite that inner fire to a blast furnace. He massaged her silky warm little rounded buttocks with both hands and cupped them to lift her up to him even harder. Stooping a little, he wrapped his arms under her globed buttocks and lifted her up against him till her head was above his, still locked to his mouth, and then let her beautiful naked body slide slowly down his own. He could feel the soft flesh of her slide down against his cock, pressing the foreskin down. Oh, God! He couldn't wait. He had to stick it in her, shove it into that hot little box, hollow and waiting between her legs.
When Celia was standing again on the floor, he released her mouth and stared down at her with burning blue eyes that bored into her very soul. Sometime, somewhere, she realized he'd taken off his glasses. His eyes burned fiercely into her and she felt her whole body quake and shiver. Her fingers trembled against his mouth and she tried to speak, to communicate the volcano of surging emotion that was erupting inside her. Solemnly he kissed her fingers, never taking his hot eyes from her face.
"Oh, Celia, Celia... Celia," he sighed at last, turning his head so his jaw pressed her temple, and the image of their two bodies pressed together from head to feet sprang into view in the mirrored wall of the bathroom as they still stood in the doorway. He pressed her closer with his hands in sudden fierceness to hide even from himself the surge of tenderness that swept him.
"Look at us," he whispered. "Look how we fit together... how we were made to fit." Her eyes leaped to his in the mirror and then saw... really saw the beauty of their naked bodies twined and cleaving. His hardness against her softness, his straight leanness against her swelling lushness as they stood, belly, breast, thigh, faces together. Her eyes widened in fear and amazement as she saw his huge, thrusting, blunt-headed enormous organ mashed between them. An instrument of torture, of agony. How could it be so massive? She'd only really seen her father's when she'd inadvertently rushed into the bathroom when he was there, and it had seemed a limp, purplish obscene and rather pathetically ugly peeing instrument. The facts taught in hygiene class were not even close to the incredible fact of seeing Web's gigantic pulsing thing. Oh, God! It looked even bigger than it felt against her.
Suddenly the horror of what she was... where she was... what she'd been doing hit her with a full load of guilt and shame. She'd been able to bear her father's taunts and accusations and predictions about her insistence on a stage career all these years only because she knew she was innocent... a virgin... pure in fact despite his suspicions. Yet... here she stood naked and panting against a naked man who was obviously only after the one weapon she had against her father's anger. She'd be ruined... forever ruined. No man would ever want to marry her. No-o-o-o-o! It mustn't happen!
She tore herself from his arms and tried to pick up her clothes, now terrified and frantic to get away. Oh, why had she come out with Web at all? She longed to be with the others at some hamburger place, eating and laughing and safe.
"What are you doing?" he roared incredulously, grabbing her arms.
"Look at us," she snarled sarcastically. "Well, I looked and I saw." She blazed at him furiously. "My mother was right. My father was right. You... you just want... to..." Tears of rage and disappointment and shame welled up.
"Say it... fuck you! Yes, I want to fuck you... and what's more you want it, too! I don't even believe you! You're out of another century! A god-damned prick tease! Well, baby," he shook her, his hands biting brutally into her arms. "No woman teases me. I've waited three long months for you! You had me so goddamned hung up... I haven't even had a woman since I met you!"
"Please... please!" She wept in terror and pain. His anger hurt even worse, stabbing her heart. "No, Web... please... please let me go," she sobbed. "Don't make me hate you."
"You won't hate me, bitch! I can promise you that!" he snarled wildly, turning her around and shoving her farther into the bathroom right up close to the mirrored wall. He caught her elbows behind her back and held her captive. "Look at yourself," he thundered, grabbing her jaw and forcing her head up till her eyes lifted to the image of her naked recoiling body and part of his naked body behind her.
Celia saw her own eyes wide with terror, the eyes of a captive animal, cornered and beginning to lose hope. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her mouth hung slack and bubbling with sobs.
"You see these tits! They were made for a man's mouth." He flicked the reddened hard tips of her nipples with his fingernail. She shivered and moaned, the nipples closing even tighter to pointed hard tips that tried to turn inside out, the soft velvet flesh of the areolas clenching and darkening. "You know why they poke out like that? Because they want to be sucked and bitten and chewed till they blow up like balloons!" His hand came up to cover one white fleshy mass of roundness. "You know why that feels so good... so delicious? Because it makes your hot little pussy get all ready for my cock!" He moved slightly so she could see the huge rod poling up from his mat of blond pubic hair.
"We're going to teach you a few things, baby!" His voice was hard and unforgiving, and she could feel his anger almost palpable in the mirrored room that was full of their naked reflections no matter where she looked. The sobs still bubbled up from her chest, and they brought a hopelessness she'd never experienced before. Here in this place-this rented place of assignation-she was going to be raped and ruined forever. She sagged against his rock-hard arm that held her pinned like a calf for slaughter.
"I said... look!" he roared wildly, snapping her jaw up again. Her eyes opened again painfully. She obeyed wearily and fearfully. He could do worse than rape, she knew, if she fought him. He could break every bone in her body with those hard, expert hands.
"Now this is my cock, my prick, my tool, my meat," he stroked the length of the rigid rod with one hand, moving the foreskin back and forth until she could see that the head of the fleshy stem was oozing a thin liquid. "And it doesn't like to be teased. Made to stand up proud and proper and ready and then told it can't ram into your hot little pussy." His breath was rasping through his nose and made a tiny fogged cloud on the mirror.
She watched in horror as his hand came out and snaked across her white belly and down into the pale brown triangle of her pubic hair. "This is your pussy." He stood behind her and put both arms in front along her sides and both hands between her legs and spread her thighs slightly until she stood in a parade rest position. Celia could feel his mammoth cock pressed into her spine, and it sent pulsing messages tingling up her backbone... lewd messages that her tired brain did not want to translate but her body received anyway.
His hands moved, and the forefinger of each hand traced along the outer edges of her privates that were fringed with hair. "These are the labia majora," he grunted as his fingers slid back and forth over the swollen lips and she could see the rounded lips were moist.
"And then just inside are the labia minora." And his fingers touched the inner lips that he peeled open to her horrified eyes. She stared in fascination as his fingers smoothed up and down, and she could feel the sticky moisture lubricating her inside.
"Then right up here," he panted harshly, his eyes fastened on her box where his fingers played and stroked obscenely, "is the clitoris... your clit." His finger darted up to touch something that only looked like a fold of flesh at first at the upper end of the aperture but felt as though her whole body were electrified by the sizzling jolt that shocked through her. He'd touched her center, the very center of her being, and it buzzed like an alarm button that sent shrieks along her every nerve.
"When you were a little girl, you rubbed your fingers there, as I'm doing now, or you rocked it against your favorite doll because it felt so good." His massaging finger did the motions his voice de
scribed. Celia shook, and her hips arched forward to his terrible finger that sent such raging flicks of desire racing through her. She remembered dimly... not a doll... but sitting and rubbing her thighs together because it felt so delicious... the piano stool. Yes, the piano stool. And her mother had punished her terribly, beating her bare little bottom unmercifully with flaming hands. She'd been so sore she literally couldn't sit down, and she'd sobbed for hours in her little bed... but she'd never done it again.
This indescribable, incredibly delectable lovely feeling was what her mother had punished her for. This feeling was what she wasn't supposed to feel. It was a sin to feel this. A sin she'd never be forgiven for now... for she was feeling it... and oh God, it was so good.
"That's where it is, baby. That's it... rock it up to me," he urged. "Rock it up to me."
Web could feel her shake and watched her hips lunge forward in the grind of a belly dancer, rocking her clit up to his massaging finger. He could see the pink flesh in firm swollen lips, wet with her moisture. Carefully he peeled the flesh back until he could see the tiny bud of her clitoris, erect and quivering like a tiny gorged penis. She was moaning and wailing in spite of herself, and then holding her breath as she saw her own clitoris reflected in the mirror and his finger press the tiny button. She jerked like a prodded animal at the end of an electrified cattle prod. Web could feel his cock jerking wildly against her smooth silken buttocks. Soon. Oh, God.
The mirrors reflected the rosily white flesh of her beautiful nakedness, thighs splayed and head now and then flopping back against his shoulder, the big heavy firmly rounded young breasts heaving and the pelvis arching lewdly to his pillaging finger. Jesus! That was the fieriest, pinkest, wettest, meatiest cunt he'd ever seen. Young and tender and ready. He moved one hand up to enclose the resilient heaviness of one breast and began sliding his finger along the length of her slick furrow.
"Oh-h-h-h-hhhhhhhhh," she breathed softly as she felt and saw him manipulate her naked body, his hands tanned against her whiteness- the blond hairs standing out on the backs of them. Her breasts felt tender and swollen, and the one he held seemed to flow over his clasping fingers, kneading the tenderness. Her vulva was wet and opening like a lascivious pink orchid, spreading its petaled lips to the burning sun of his golden hand.
This was a role she could never have imagined playing. The harlot writhing to the satyr's touch, her flesh sensuous and eager and urging, wanting his hot hands to never stop their insane libidinous machinations. She watched her body play the role avidly on this tiny bathroom stage. Only her eyes told her it was herself, not a character she could hide behind. It was herself that was enjoying this fleshly hell. It was herself that was reacting and participating. It was herself. Her own flesh, her own naked wanting flesh. How could her father have known that all the time she was a whore... that under her demure, modest demeanor there raged a waiting whore who needed only the opportunity? How could he have known that the real Celia Brown was a Jezebel, a harlot, a slut, a chippy, a brazen whore?
Web had stripped her mask as easily as he had stripped her body, and she had let him, ignoring all the signs, all the clues that had warned her that this night would happen... that this play would be played.
God damn! It was worth it! It had been worth waiting for. This girl was the hottest, most luscious, erotic thing he'd ever been lucky enough to hold in his lusting hands. He wanted it now. He'd waited so long, but he couldn't tear himself away yet from watching her writhing naked beauty under his hands, in the harsh light that showed him all of her in clinical yet poetic detail. He couldn't remember ever seeing any woman in such living color and detail as this well-lighted mirrored room showed him.
His hands moved slowly over her... as far as he could reach... up and down the sensual curves of thigh and hip and waist and breast and shoulder and arms and throat and all the way back down again. The white skin was like hot satin writhing under his hands to cleave to his caressing, wandering, adventuring hands.
He'd been a god-damned fool to wait so long. He'd known she was hot the minute he'd laid eyes on her. He still didn't understand his own patient plodding building up to tonight. It wasn't like him. But now that it was here... he was going to savor every bit of it. From now on, he'd have her any god-damned time he felt like it. This was his! He was going to have it whenever and wherever he wanted it.
"God!" he groaned, and turned her and caught her to him fiercely, pressing her hot white curves into him as hard as he could and finding her mouth. He could still see her imprinted behind his eyeballs, burned in rosy color into his brain as he closed his eyes and plunged his tongue into the wet warm hollow of her mouth. His tongue fucked into her mouth ferociously as his cock beat against her belly in frantic knocks.
He tore his mouth away finally to pant, "I'm going to fuck you silly, you beautiful little bitch," catching her hand and pulling away just enough to guide it down over his upstanding prick. He watched in the mirror the visual ecstasy of her hand, her little white hand slide down his aching, bloated cock.
"Skin it for me," he hissed feverishly, never taking his eyes from the lewd image of his own springing shaft enclosed in her soft hand, the bulbous head bursting out in a purpling bloom, his hands moving to stroke her breasts to coral-tipped rounded cones.
She looked up into his averted eyes that were glued in hot blue fascination to the mirrored reflection of their naked bodies ready for fucking. She looked quizzical and afraid and uncertain. Stalling again! He grabbed her loosely gripping hand and squeezed it hard over his almost bursting cock and jerked her hand under his, guiding it fiercely up and down.
"I said, skin it!" She trembled at the returning anger in his voice and the hardened closing of his face... but she knew now what he wanted. She pulled up and down on the massive long thickness of his penis that felt so foreign in her hand. She could feel the blood coursing in it under the hot skin and see the veins striating the surface and the purple obscenity of the head with its one eye oozing. She could not imagine how it could ever penetrate her body without killing her. How could she possibly hold its enormity within the small fleshy folds he had revealed to her where her thighs joined? She knew intellectually it must be possible, for the race could only generate in this terrible, horrible act that she knew was going to be done to her.
She looked in curiosity and growing dismay at the jerking, bucking instrument in her hands, the weapon that seemed to have a life of its own, as though it were unconnected to Web.
"That's it, baby," he panted obscenely, thrusting his hips forward so it touched its sticky, lewd head against her skin. She shrank back, her skin recoiling from the feel of that ugly, beastly organ.
Suddenly she felt ill... as though she were going to throw up the contents of her steak dinner all over this mirrored bathroom and all over his naked lusting animal body. She couldn't. If he killed her, she couldn't. She pulled away from him in horror, trying to quiet her churning stomach.
"I can't... Web..." she sobbed, fresh tears pouring from her eyes.
"We'll see," he screamed like a wounded bull, reaching out and picking her up to sling her over his shoulder like a sack and marching out the door toward the huge bed. Her hands beat wildly and ineffectually against his back. She was sobbing uncontrollably and wriggling and beating at him with her little fists which he ignored. He jerked the blue velvet coverlet back and then the bedclothes. God-damned bitch! By God, if she wanted rape.... that's just what she'd get!
He flung her onto the white sheets, and her head snapped onto the pillow. She looked small and vulnerable and miserable, the tears streaking her contorted tortured face. Ruthlessly he threw himself down on her, pulling her lovely legs apart so she was spread-eagled beneath him, and dropped his head to catch one beautiful mountain of breast in his mouth.
"Agh... aghhhhhhhh!" she screamed as she felt his mouth close on her naked breast. Her arms strained against the bonds of his hands and her legs tried to scissor closed, but she wa
s trapped, pinned down helplessly by his strong, hard body. She could feel his tongue swirling around her nipple, which had popped out in his mouth in quivering attention. Oh, no! What was he doing? She could feel his hot breath rushing raggedly through his nose against her shrinking flesh as his blazing mouth began to suck her breast in a fierce suction that sent fine needles of pleasure threading through her body. Something strange was happening to her... down there... between her legs. The nausea had fled and a sucking in-an in-drawn sensation that seemed to draw in time to his voraciously sucking mouth-replaced it. It was a feeling of longing... of loneliness... of yearning that she didn't understand.
He held her immobile and savagely sank his teeth into her nipple, knowing the pain would be a pleasure she'd scream for again. She did scream "AGGGGGGGHHHHHHH"... and arched her breasts up in the agony, her muscles ridging as her arms and legs tried to escape his cruel hands and body.
Web slid his mouth over to drink from her other bursting breast. Oh, God! Her scented flesh smelled faintly of gardenia and lemon, and he could almost taste droplets of some exotic creamy aphrodisiac flowing out of her rigid ruby hard nipple into his lusting mouth. He sucked harder, feeling the velvety tiny buds like taste buds on the end of her nipple against his tongue. Her sobs were gradually changing to moans. That's it. Moan for me, baby. The blood was pounding in his temples and echoed in his thirsting cock that pulsed fitfully.
The Unwilling Actress Page 3
