Escapades of a Porno King

by George Alexander

  Jack could feel his body readying for the explosion. He had his eyes fastened to Cindy's cunt so tightly that every move she made he was with her, and finally she started to cry out... “OH, OH, OH SHIT, I'M COMING!!” The rush of sperm blasted out of Jack like oil from a new well and flew into the air. Cindy was convulsed on her finger, ramming herself again and again, screaming between gasping breaths, the sound of her juices and flesh filling the room, the sound of Jack's sperm falling everywhere, splatting on Cindy and on the rug and on the table and on the typewriter, the sound of Cindy sighing, and Jack collapsing onto the floor, and Janice rolling out from under him. Finally there was quiet, broken only by the sounds of heavy breathing. Jack, after a few minutes, felt his dazed brain clearing. He stared at Cindy, who had—for now—a look of complete contentment on her face, and then at Joan, whose tensed-up face was poised over the typewriter, and then at Janice, who was dreamily fingering her own cunt through the cloth of her body stocking, which she rubbed up and down on her inflamed clit. There were a few more moments of silence. Finally, Joan said, “Well, I think that'll do for Chapter One.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jack was sitting on the floor, with a galaxy of female bodies in various states of undress around him. His climax had been swift and rushing, and he found himself rapidly returning to a high level of excitement. He hadn't seen any of his girlfriends during the days since Gretchen had left—things were dead in the summer, with so many people out of town on vacation, and he'd been absorbed with trying to get a start on another book. Still, he needed a little breather before going on to the next act-whatever it would be.

  “Ok,” he said, grinning, “you've got one chapter— and a girl who likes to turn men on. Where do you go next?”

  “I usually lay there for a while,” Cindy said, “but I get up and look around a little, so the guy's afraid to leave the bushes. Then I wander away. Of course, usually he hasn't seen quite so much—although one time, to tell you the truth, I did jerk off for a guy. I just got so turned on. Anyhow, I go someplace where I can watch which way he goes when he comes out of the bushes. Then, if I can, I circle around and walk casually toward where he'll be coming. I just amble past him, giving this fantastic impression of innocence, and I kind of look him over. Of course, when he sees me, he about shits in his pants. He can't hide the shock—because the whole scene before was a dream, it was so unreal. But now I'm just like anybody else. It makes him think that any girl he passes on the street might be like me.”

  “How about if he talks to you, and you go home and fuck with him,” Jack suggested.

  “That's never happened—although it could in the story, I guess. Usually if he talks to me I act really shocked. Then, after he's gone, I call up some guy I know and go over to his house and practically rape him. That park deal is just to get me warmed up.”

  “I've got an idea,” said Jack. “Since you girls got a chapter out of that last idea, let me get a few things on paper, and we'll see how things develop while I'm doing it. I think you definitely need at least a fuck in your next chapter—and I'll tell you what else you could use, is a scene with two girls. I don't know if you girls are into that...” He looked around to gauge the reactions.

  “Well, I don't know which two of us you're going to get to do it,” said Cindy, glancing at her two roommates. Jack tried to tell whether there were any hidden passions welling up in the trio—he gathered that they hadn't been into each other before, anyhow—but at first he drew a blank. Then, to his surprise, Janice said, “I'll be one of them. I have to admit that when I was in a girls' boarding school for two years, when I was sixteen and seventeen, I had a little experience in that direction.”

  Joan looked puzzled, obviously trying to sort her feelings out. “Got any choice of a partner?” she asked.

  “If I think about it,” Janice said, “you both sort of turn me on.” She glanced from one to the other hungrily.

  Joan looked at Cindy. “Do you want to do it?” she asked.

  “I'd do it,” Cindy said.

  “That's good,” said Jack, “because I need Joan for what I want to do.”

  Joan looked at him with amusement. “And just what do you want to do?”

  “Fuck you, for one thing,” said Jack. “But first, I want to get a nice, detailed description of you. I've already got the general stuff—but guess what I still need?”

  Joan pointed to her crotch.

  “Right.”

  “Well,” said Joan, drawing herself up from her chair slowly and moving toward him, “start typing.” She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. Jack was shaken by the casual sexuality she displayed— casual, and yet subtle, with every move carefully orchestrated to attain just the right effect.

  Jack turned briefly to Cindy and Janice. “You two girls can get warmed up by describing the fuck Joan and I are going to do right after I finish capturing her pussy on paper. Use one of those ideas you talked about—either with a guy from the park or another guy, it doesn't matter—and set it up. Then, get ready.” The girls had already taken their place at the typewriter.

  Joan had stripped off her blouse by this time, and her naked breasts swung freely before Jack's captive gaze. He was glad he had learned to touch-type, so he wouldn't have to take his eyes off her except to change paper.

  Joan leaned over him, brushing the top of his typewriter with her tits. The flesh bounced and jiggled. Joan's breasts were heavy but firm. The nipples were placed at the point where their weight was the greatest, toward their lower sides, just where the flesh started to curve inward. Jack saw what Cindy had meant by calling them udders. They looked as if they were made to give milk—and lots of it. The nipples were large, and the pink aureoles were immense, adored at the edges with the thinnest, most delicate wisps of blonde hair. In his mind, Jack contrasted them with Janice's, which were browner, and perhaps harder.

  “Could you get one of those nipples erect?” Jack asked, starring to type.

  Without answering, and while keeping her gaze directly fixed on Jack's eyes, Joan brought her hand up and cupped a breast with it. She jiggled it up and down, and then moved a finger up to stroke the nipple very gently. She smiled as it rose slightly. She opened her hand, and, placing the palm over the nipple, began to rotate it slowly, then faster. Her breath shortened as the blood pumped into the tiny, flabby bit of flesh, inflating it and rendering it helplessly sensitive. Her knees began to buckle. She took the nipple between two fingers next, and pulled it and pinched it in one motion. Finally it stood out like a little soldier at attention on her breast. Jack stared at it from close range, and then, as Joan leaned toward him, he placed his mouth over it and began to suck. In a minute he had the nipple halfway down his throat, and felt it tickling the roof of his mouth as it throbbed and hardened still further. Joan was gasping. Jack let the tip drop. It came to rest on Joan's chest, and he stared at it again. His cock was hot and hard as he made his fingers go to work, describing how the wrinkles in the nipple, now smoothed by its swelling, left little patterns in it, and how its color was almost translucent pink.

  “Ok,” breathed Jack a little shakily, as he struggled to get a new sheet of paper into his typewriter, “Now I want you to turn around, and pull down your pants, just like you were going to be examined by a doctor, and spread your cheeks, and stick your asshole right over my typewriter.” Jack's hands jittered as Joan obeyed. The sight of her fingers drawing her panties down, of her bending and digging her fingers into her buttocks, and yanking them apart, caused him to hit a few of the wrong keys, but he wasn't worrying about that. He was too busy staring.

  Cindy's asshole had been little and pink and tight—almost invisible at first, before she'd started to work on it. Joan's was looser, more generous, and its puckered skin had a slightly more brownish tinge. The odor of Joan's excited pussy pervaded Jack's nostrils, and he glanced at it waiting patiently below her asshole, quivering with anticipation, for its share of the attention.

  “Relax,�
� said Jack, “and let your hole spread out some more.” He saw the flesh go limp by degrees, as Joan followed instructions. Once in a while, for effect, she would tighten up suddenly, and it looked as though she was winking at him.

  “Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” Jack asked her, as he typed away.

  “Mmm—yes,” Joan said. “I love it. Especially now that my hole's nice and loose. One of my dreams is to get fucked by two guys, one up my cunt and one up my ass, at the same time.”

  “If you go to the right parties with Gretchen and me,” Jack muttered, “that can be easily arranged.” He could see his comment had a favorable reception.

  “I'm going to stick my tongue up your ass,” Jack said.

  “I'm more than ready,” Joan answered, and backed a few inches closer to him, creasing the flesh of her buttocks on the top of his typewriter. Jack leaned forward, and Joan spread herself even wider. Her hole blurred in Jack's vision as he closed in on it with his tongue. The first contact sent a shiver down the whole length of his body—and hers. He let the tip of his tongue wander in circles around the outer surface of the opening, and then he licked up and down her crack, occasionally running his tongue along the outer lips of her cunt. Then, feeling with his tongue-tip for the center of the waiting target before him, he entered her and began to pry the hole open, working his tongue first in one direction, then in the other, always feeling with consummate pleasure the tightness loosening, and more tightness ahead. Joan rocked back and forth, driving the fatter parts of his tongue into her, and moved her hips in circles. When he opened his eyes, Jack could see a vase landscape of flesh stretching away to the top of the valley of Joan's crack—and above that, light, and part of a wall, and a ceiling.

  “More,” Joan moaned, “shove it all the way in. Fuck my ass with your tongue... oh, it's so good...” Jack delved into the tight channel until his tongue was buried to its base. Joan was tightening on him in little spurts, and giving a cry of pleasure with each one. Jack's tongue was being sucked by Joan's hole, and Jack was so oblivious that he imagined it was his cock, and he was fucking up the ass and getting a blow-job all at the same time. Finally, he drew his tongue slowly, teasingly out. He pulled away. Joan remained in the same position, bent over, her ass-cheeks spread and quivering. Her hole stayed open about half an inch, as if it were waiting for another round. Finally, its edges began to contract. Jack sat back and typed a few lines.

  “Now for your cunt,” he said. “Turn around again, and come over here—put your foot up on the sofa, and open up your cunt.”

  Joan, her fine, feminine belly heaving with passion, her eyes bright with desire, followed his instructions. The sparse blonde hairs of her cunt sprouted around its slit like a thin forest—until she ran her fingers up and down inside the outer lips, and then drew them apart. Her clit, at the center of the two large, floppy inner lips, where they merged at the top, stood out sharply already. The pearly interior, glistening with the oozing juices that Jack could see making their way out of the long, wide hole below, was so delicate compared with the roughness of the unruly cunt-hairs sprouting around it that Jack, as many cunts as he had seen in his lifetime, gasped. Joan shifted her fingers slightly to open the hole itself for him. It became a cavern, its entrance fringed with ragged pink flesh all around. Before he even asked, Joan placed a finger on her clit and began to massage it, while Jack typed furiously.

  After two minutes or so, Jack took one hand off the typewriter and, reaching out, touched Joan's clit. Then he took it between his fingers and rolled it. Then he brushed one finger across it, from side to side. Then he placed one fingers on either side of it, and stroked upward, pinching them together toward the top. Joan's hips started pumping up and down convulsively. Jack reached behind her and, grasping the creamy sphere of one of her buttocks, drew the cunt toward him. In an instant, he was smothered in cunt-lips and pussy-juice, and Joan was working against his tongue, humping up and down on it, making squishing sounds with her emit and indiscernible sounds of passion with her month. Jack sucked in, and the inner lips entered his mouth, and fluttered and swished against his cheeks and tongue. He drove his tongue into her, but it was lost—it could not fill her up. It could not even come close. For a few seconds, he withdrew his tongue and took her clit between his lips, pinching it gently and licking it at the same time.

  Jack, having lost his pants in the previous event of the evening, and having found his shirt superfluous, was totally naked, and now he felt Joan's hands travelling down over his shoulders, over his chest, diving unerringly toward the seat of his passion. He felt his cock rising in the gentle grip of a pair of infinitely soft hands. It was as though he was on the ocean, and it was carrying him along on a flood-tide of sensuality.

  He felt himself drifting upward. Now he was standing, and Joan's body was pressing against his, his cock between them like some kind of iron spike that Joan stretched and lurched to get into her. He felt his cock sliding up between her legs, as she stood on tip-toes and he bent his knees slightly, and then he felt it come into contact with the warm, slimy, smooth lips of her cunt, and slide past them. He was inside her, and he wanted to go deep. His cock was on fire, his balls were ready to shoot. Suddenly, Joan rose, and his organ fell out of her. They slumped onto the floor, and he found Joan on top of him, her mouth closed upon his manhood, sucking away, while her cunt and ass descended onto his face. He wrapped his arms around her waist, upside down, and glued her pussy to him, licking up and down and sideways like a man possessed, driven nearly insane by the smell and feel of her most private parts, as they ground away unashamedly, smearing cunt-juice from his chin to his forehead, massaging his face and taking over his brain. Meanwhile, the sucking on his cock made his hips bounce up and down, and he felt himself being eaten alive, his member disappearing down Joan's eager throat. His brain flashed images to him—of Joan at the door earlier in the afternoon, of her climbing the stairs ahead of him, of her teasing her nipple erect inches from his face—and, appearing randomly, they reinforced the tremendous excitement of the moment, driving him to impossible heights of desire.

  Suddenly, they had rolled over—neither of them was leading, neither following, everything happening naturally, spontaneously—and Joan was under him. He was turning around, climbing her like a tree, looking into her waiting gaze and fastening his mouth on hers, conversing with her tongue, tasting her complete abandon. Somewhere below him, that warm, magical feeling spread over his cock as it eased its way into her. Suddenly she gave a lunge, and grabbed it, and began fucking like crazy. But Jack was right with her, and he caught up with her rapid rhythm and surpassed it. Joan pointed her feet at the ceiling, her legs straight, and grabbed her legs behind the knees to keep herself in that position, with her luscious hole as wide open as it could get, and ready for anything.

  Jack at first plunged into her depths again and again, taking himself—and her—rapidly to the brink of orgasm. Then he withdrew almost completely, and reached down and fingered her clit. Her body went rigid with a new kind of tension. Then, without warning, he drove deeply into her. She half screamed, and her mouth fell open: she was like an insect on the end of a pin, but the pin transfixed her with pure pleasure. Then Jack began churning in circles, whipping his huge cock around and around inside her. They were riding along on a crest, driven along with the flood tide of passion. Jack felt Joan's fingernails raking up and down his back, leaving long trails of mixed pleasure and pain in their wake. He shoved his hands under her buttocks and lifted her up to drive his organ even deeper into her. Then he mounted her higher, and heard her gasp as the shaft of his organ ran rapidly up and down over her clitoris. Joan's legs were now pointed straight at the ceiling, and her back bent and straightened in a rhythm that quickened as she reached toward a climax.

  For the second time that evening, Jack felt his organ getting ready to shoot. He stared down at Joan's face and was greeted by closed eyes and a contorted expression which conveyed in an instant how completely absorb
ed she was in the moment. Their two bodies, smacking together now at a feverish pace, suddenly began to roll over and over on the floor, and Jack found himself now underneath Joan, thrusting his hips up to meet her descending pelvis, and now on top of her again, crushing her clit beneath the weight of his body in an effort to satiate its throbbing desires. The juices of Joan's womanhood flowed lavishly down Jack's legs, and the squishing noises of intercourse became louder and louder. It seemed to Jack that he was fucking harder and longer than he had ever fucked before. Suddenly Joan gave a cry and Jack felt her cunt squeezing down on his cock like a vice. She lunged forward beneath him and her hands dove down between his legs to grab his balls. That did it. His loins exploded, sending a thick jet of sperm gushing into her. Now Joan was jerking rapidly,' uncontrollably, up and down, squeezing the last bits of satisfaction out of his lunging organ.