CHAPTER TWELVE
Berto was in the small kitchen making himself a snack when the
apartment's front door opened. He turned to see an astonishingly grimy figure
trudge in, carrying a big, heavy looking gear bag.
It was a woman, in dark blue baggy coveralls and squaretoed workboots.
Her long, matted black hair was tied into a shaggy knot behind her neck. The
coveralls were filthy, smeared from collar to cuffs with black grease and the
orange soil of Monsipur. Her skin was grey from dust and dirt.
She stopped when she saw Berto and stared at him suspiciously. Her eyes
were white orbs set into the dirty brown of her face. She quickly glanced
around, checking to see if there were any other surprises awaiting her. Missing
furniture, dead bodies, more strange men.
"Who are you?" she asked gruffly.
"Berto. I'm a . . . friend of Gilly's," he told the woman. Between
the dirt, the baggy coveralls, and the wild hair shadowing her face, he couldn't
tell if she was thick or thin, pretty or ugly. She looked past him, toward the
bedrooms.
"She's not here, she's at the Dairy," Berto told her.
The woman seemed unsure of what to do. She obviously hadn't been
expecting to see a strange man in the apartment. Berto tried to set her at
ease.
"You a pusher, or do you work the rail?" he asked, using slang he hoped
was still current. She tilted her head and looked at him.
"Blast crew. I work the drill."
"Damn. You must be stronger than you look."
She set her bag down on the floor with a thump and brushed the hair back
from her grimy face. "What do you know? You been down?"
"In my youth," he told her. "In my youth. Three years, working a baby
scoop, mostly."
"Where?"
"Bell's Marble. You've probably never heard of it out here."
"You worked the Marble?" she said incredulously. "When was this?"
"Sixty to sixty-two. I was fifteen when I got the job, thought I would
be seeing the universe." He laughed. "Never realized you can't see many stars
when you're a mile down. The whole crew was a bunch of kids, we were the only
ones willing to work for what they were paying."
"Were you there when the dome blew?" So she had heard of it.
Bell's Marble had been a small moon a long way from nowhere. A survey
crew discovered it was indescribably dense with all sorts of mineral deposits.
To mine it ComExCo had erected several pressurized domes, each a mile across,
and tunneled down from each one. The moon was nearly solid rock, dense enough
to have workable gravity. This helped keep the air pumped into the mines from
leaking out into space. The domes were supposed to be shielded, but apparently
ComExCo had run out of money and decided to play the odds. An asteroid the size
of a small building impacted one of the domes, blowing it and collapsing the
mineshaft below.
"I was near the bottom of the shaft when the rock hit. A mile down,
give or take. There were about two hundred of us, in a pretty big air pocket.
We didn't know how much of the shaft had collapsed, or even why. We actually
felt the impact, but none of us knew what it was. I thought maybe the resupply
ship had crashed, even though it wasn't due for days. We were so deep, though .
. . our air pocket was big, but we knew it wouldn't last forever."
"How long did it take you to get out?"
"A month." He was staring off across the room, but what he was seeing
wasn't there.
"A month?" It seemed impossible to believe.
"Yeah. We had to dig damn near the entire shaft out again. We'd dig
out a hundred meters, move up, and then the shaft would collapse again,
sometimes in front, sometimes in back, sometimes right on top of us. The impact
fractured every strata of rock there was. Everything was giving way. Every
time we were about to run out of air we'd break through into another pocket. We
found other survivors, but not many."
"How'd you survive without food and water?"
"Well, we had water. We used the old Belsen Power Rams? The 4000's?
They were water cooled, forty gallons each, which still wasn't enough, but we
lost so many people to cave-ins that somehow we made do. And it was a good
thing it took us so long to dig out, too," Berto told her, lost in the memory.
"They only had the dome repaired and repressurized six hours when we broke
through. If we'd have been any quicker we'd have dug ourselves right out into a
vacuum and floated out into space."
The woman looked down and shook her head. "How many of you made it
out?"
"Well, there were over a thousand in our shaft when the rock hit. Most
died in the initial cave-in. When we finally dug our way out there were
forty-four of us left. That's when I decided to quit mining and join the
Marines. Mining was just too dangerous." He gave her a quick, strained smile.
Faces kept flashing across his brain, men who'd died next to him in the mine,
some kids younger than he'd been. He hadn't meant to ramble on for so long, but
he hadn't thought about the Marble in so long the memories had kind of snuck up
on him.
"All of our safety measures are geared toward preventing everything that
happened to you," she told him. "That fiasco sent ComExCo into bankruptcy.
They had to close the Marble to pay all the insurance benefits." She looked at
him strangely. "You're heroes, you know that? You must. Everyone knows the
story, about how you refused to give up, and dug a mile quicker than anybody
before or since."
"We weren't heroes, we were just scared kids who didn't want to die on a
shitty little moon no one had ever heard of. And we were digging through loose
and fractured rock, so it's not the same thing as a virgin shaft."
She stepped around the counter and stuck out a hand. "I'm Sam," she
told him.
"You're Sam?" he said, shaking her hand. It was hot and dry, and she
had a grip like a vise. When Gilly had informed him that she had a roommate
named Sam, most of his enthusiasm about seeing her apartment had quickly drained
away. "The roommate? I thought . . . well, I was expecting someone a little
more male."
"Samantha," she told him. "Where did you and Gilly meet?"
"Port Authority, last night," he told her. "I'd just gotten through
decontam -- I'm a long hauler now," he explained. "I was eating dinner when
Gilly came in, and, well, her hormone pop was hitting her pretty hard," he said,
wondering what her reaction would be.
"She must like you if she brought you here," Sam told him. She suddenly
noticed the dirt she'd smudged onto his hand with hers, and looked down at
herself.
"I've got to get cleaned up," she apologized. "We do twenty days on and
six off. They barely bring in enough water for us to drink, forget about a
wetshower."
"I'll try to stay out of your way," he told her. "I'm not sure when
Gilly'll be back, she left about forty minutes ago. Maybe we could have dinner
together later? If you're not too tired?"
Sam smiled at him, her teeth a brilliant white against her sooty face.
"I'd like that." She grabbed her bag, took a few steps, then stopped and looked
at him. She opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind, shook her head,
and disappeared into her bedroom. She was still in there when Gilly returned,
looking skinny after being pumped out.
"Your roommate's home."
"Sam? Oh good. I hope she wasn't too mean to you, sometimes she's real
cranky when she comes home, she's so tired."
"We got along fine. I used to mine, years and years ago, so we had
something to talk about. She's in there cleaning up." He nodded toward the
bedroom.
"Can you believe how filthy she gets? The owners say they can't afford
to install wetshowers in the crew quarters. I think that's horrible. It's bad
enough that they're in the middle of nowhere. That's why they work so many days
in a row and live in barracks right next to the mine; the mine's a good day's
travel from anywhere. If they worked any fewer days they'd have to spend their
entire time off traveling back and forth."
"I told her I thought maybe we could have dinner together, and she
seemed to like the idea."
"She'll want to stay in, but I know just what to fix," Gilly said
enthusiastically. "Are you eating now?"
Berto looked down at the cracker he had in his hand. "Well, uh--"
"Let me go ask Sam if she's hungry, and maybe I'll just start dinner
right away." She disappeared into the bedroom, emerging a minute later wearing
a mischievous smile.
"We'll eat here," Gilly said with a twisted grin. "She's hungry now."
She kept grinning at him.
"What? Why are you smiling?"
Gilly's smile grew wider. "She likes you," she told him, lowering her
voice.
"Oh," Berto said, a bit taken aback. "Well . . . ."
"It's okay," Gilly told him. "She hardly ever likes anybody. All she
ever does is work work work."
"But, I mean," he said, not exactly sure what Gilly meant, "she knows
I'm with you, right? I told her how we met."
"Oh, don't be such a ninny," Gilly mock scolded him. "Just relax. I
didn't know bubbly girls got you so nervous. Now go sit down over there, I've
got to start dinner." When she opened the cooler all Berto could see were the
rows of vitamin-fortified fruit juice containers that filled half the interior.
When Sam finally exited her room, it was obvious she'd dressed in her
best for dinner, but still the transformation was so startling that Berto could
only stare at her, speechless. Gone was the matted hair, the grimy skin, the
shapeless soiled jumpsuit. What strolled out of Sam's room was a strikingly
beautiful woman that bore no resemblance at all to the tunnel rat who'd gone in.
Sam's hair was glossy and hung in ebony ringlets to the middle of her
back. It was gathered loosely at the base of her neck, not quite a ponytail.
Her bronzed skin shone and smelled of exotic oils and the faint trace of
perfume. Her lips and eyelashes had been subtly accented.
Sam wore a midriff-baring long-sleeved formal jacket made of a stiff
green fabric. It revealed a remarkably slender body, deeply tanned, without an
ounce of fat anywhere on it. Her washboard stomach literally rippled with
muscle. Slung low on her hips was a tight green skirt that barely reached
mid-thigh and revealed the most shapely, athletic legs Berto had ever seen
outside of a PowerBall court. She wore black high heel gloves on her feet,
stretchy rubber shoes with tall spike heels.
"This is a little better," she said with feigned nonchalance as she
sauntered out of her bedroom. "I actually feel human again after that shower."
"My God, you are one beautiful woman," Berto blurted out, staring at
her. She turned red, and he immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut, but
Sam didn't seem offended. Gilly just giggled.
Sam appeared to be a few years younger than him, with a long face and
full, sensuous lips. Looking at her made him wish he'd brought along something
nicer to wear. Especially when Gilly retired to her own bedroom to "change into
something special", leaving the roast to slow cook in the P-Wave oven.
Berto couldn't even remember what he and Sam talked about before dinner.
She had a wonderful sense of humor, and a great laugh, although she was
obviously unused to wearing a skirt, especially one so short. It was a constant
struggle for him to keep his eyes on her face as they talked. She sat across
from him and nervously bounced her knees open and closed.
Gilly's "something special" turned out to be a blue textured elastic
bodysuit with a high collar and a wide zipper than ran from her throat all the
way down between her legs. The one-piece had molded-in cups for her breasts
that kept them high and round even in her drained state. The bodysuit ended at
her knees and elbows, and she wore sporty red thick soled boots to accent the
blue outfit. For the first time since he'd met her Gilly was wearing makeup,
and her short hair was slicked back. It made her look older, and a lot more
sophisticated.
"Now I really feel poorly dressed," Berto said, standing up reflexively
as she came out of her bedroom. "You two look spectacular."
"You look fine," Sam assured him.
Gilly giggled and stepped into the kitchen to check on dinner. He saw
the zipper running down the front of her bodysuit came up between her buttocks
and stopped at the small of her back. There was a pull tab there as well as at
the other end of the zipper at her throat. The textured bodysuit clung tight to
her body, although the fabric wasn't nearly as revealing as TwoSkin would've
been. Somehow that made it even sexier. Berto could hardly concentrate on the
tasty meal with the two of them dressed as they were, chatting gaily and
flirting up a storm.
He flirted with both of them, enjoying himself immensely, but kept
careful watch on Gilly's reactions. He didn't want her upset with him, but he
apparently needn't have worried; Gilly seemed almost to be encouraging his
flirting with Sam.
He talked of his time in the mines, and the Marines. The two women kept
him going with their questions, but eventually he did get to ask Sam about her
mine, and how her crew worked. There seemed to be some sort of unspoken
communication going on between the two women that he couldn't decipher, a
language consisting of raised eyebrows, knowing looks, nods, and sly smiles.
"I can't remember the last time I sat down to a home-cooked meal," Berto
said with relish. He pushed himself away from the table. "Must be ten years.
And I know I've never had prettier company."
Not only was it pure flattery, it was one hundred percent true. The
evening had been like a dream, some fanciful concoction of his subconscious. He
was afraid he'd wake up and find himself back in his bunk onboard ship. But
there was no way he could have dreamed up two women as beautiful, in such
different ways, as Gilly and Sam. His imagination wasn't that good.
Gilly had downed nearly three liters of juice during the meal, and the
front of her bodysuit was noticeably bigger. Sam's stomach, on the other hand,
was so flat that even sitting down there was only one shallow wrinkle running
straight across her navel.
"I haven't eaten that much in a long time."
"Don't you have any room left for dessert?" Gilly asked with a twinkle
in her eye. She and Sam exchanged another knowing look.
"If I eat anymore right now I'm going to fall asleep," Berto admitted.
Gilly stood up, and moved toward the kitchen. "You two go sit down,
I'll get us something to drink."
Sam led him into the livingroom and sat on the low couch. She patted
the cushion right beside her hip, but Berto left six inches of space between
them. Gilly came into the room with two small cups.
"Candlelight," she called out, and the bright white indirect lighting
faded to a warm yellow glow. "Rosebriar for the two of you," she said, handing
them the two cups half-full of amber liquid. Rosebriar was a strong liqueur
he'd heard of but never tasted.
"You're not having any?" Berto said. Gilly strode back into the
kitchen. He felt Sam slide closer to him on the couch, felt the heat of her
thigh against his, but didn't look.
"I'm not allowed to drink alcohol," she told him. "I'll have water."
Berto glanced at Sam, gave her a quick smile, and drank a little of the
Rosebriar. It burned all the way down. Out of the corner of his eye he could
see her staring at him.
"Um," he said nervously, "are there a lot of women working the mines
here?"
"No," she told him, leaning closer. "Most women can't handle the work,
or the company. But there's a few."
"It was all men when I worked the Marble."
"For three years? D'you get any leave? No? Wow, that doesn't sound
like fun. At least I only do twenty days before getting a break."
"Don't you . . . I mean, uh, are the barracks coed?"
She knew what he was getting at. "The ratio's twenty to one. Even if I
wanted to sleep with one of them, I'd have to sleep with them all, and then
they'd be fighting over me -- you know how miners are. If I wanted to do that
I'd have joined the Sisterhood. And yes, the barracks are coed. About once a
month I have to discourage someone's advances."
"How?"
"Broken bones, usually. The women that don't take care of themselves
end up getting raped. Those that stay become public housing. You wouldn't
believe the stories I hear about some of the really remote digs."
"I bet I would."
Gilly sat down on his other side and took a long drink of water. She
set the tall container down on the table. While he was watching Sam leaned over
and began tonguing his ear. Berto froze, eyes darting to Gilly. It wasn't long
before she noticed Sam, but all Gilly did was smirk. Sam kept working at his
ear, breathing hard, and Gilly watched with a slight hint of amusement on her
face. He imagined he looked like a panicked animal caught in a bright light.
"What's the matter, don't you like Sam?" Gilly finally asked, when Berto
failed to respond. Sam pulled back, looking distraught and very heated up. For
his part Berto was glad his shirt covered his crotch.
"Well no, I mean, look, I thought you were . . . ." Berto began, then
stopped and took a deep breath. He looked Sam in the eyes, put a gentle hand on
her thigh and said "I like you very much." Then he turned to Gilly and said
"But I came here as your guest."
"Don't be ridiculous," Gilly laughed. "Oh boy, I didn't know you were
from New Mantique." She stood up, picked up her water, and waved a hand. "I'm
not even here," she said, heading into the rear of the apartment. Berto watched
her disappear down the hallway, then looked at Sam.
"Am I making too much of a fool out of myself?" he asked her. She took
hold of his hand, still on her warm thigh, and lifted it from her flesh. Just
as his heart began to plummet she pulled his hand toward her and slid it inside
her top. Her small breast filled the palm of his hand, and he could feel her
hard little nipple. Sam reached down and squeezed the raging erection trapped
inside his pants. With a growl Berto pulled her to him and they attacked each
other with their mouths.
They were a panting, groaning tangle on the couch, limbs akimbo. She
jerked his cock roughly inside his pants, and he went after her nipples with his
fingers.
"Oh God," she panted, breaking the kiss briefly as he pulled hard on her
nipple. She straddled his thigh and pressed her crotch down onto him, hard.
She ground herself against him, still jerking his cock, while he squeezed her
breasts. They panted and groaned, tongues entwined like snakes.
Berto moved a hand down and pulled up the front of her skirt. Her mound
pumped against his thigh, hidden by a narrow strip of panty. Berto slipped two
fingers inside the elastic and found loose dangling labia slick with arousal.
As he corkscrewed two fingers deep inside her she gasped and arched above him.
"Oh Krikes!" she barked hoarsely, rocking her hips against his hand.
Berto twisted his fingers this way and that, and Sam gasped and twitched. Then
she grabbed his wrist and climbed off the couch. His fingers slid out of her.
"What--?"
She pulled him off the couch by his wrist and headed for her bedroom
door. He nearly had to run to keep up. Through the doorway she practically
threw him onto the bed. She scrambled to pull her top off, then tugged the
skirt down her shapely legs. She kicked her panties off into a corner and
pushed Berto backward as he struggled to get his pants off.
"Light!" she called out. The recessed lamps blinked on at full power,
illuminating everything in the room with clinical detail, just the way Sam liked
it. She was even more athletic than Berto'd thought. Not an ounce of fat on
her body, but enough muscle that she didn't look skinny. Her skin was brown as
a tanned hide. Her arms and legs, while muscled, were also slender and very
feminine. The only part of her body that wasn't taut and toned and angular were
her breasts, small, rounded, firmly soft and high on her chest, tipped with tiny
dark nipples.
She practically ripped the pants from Berto's legs and straddled him as
he wrestled with his shirt. Sam's labia hung long and loose in sharp contrast
to the rest of her body. They were dark, almost purplish-brown, wrinkled and
puckered and at least an inch and a half long. Sam parted them with her
fingertips and with her other hand guided his cockhead between her legs She
sank onto his shaft with a groan, all the way down until her hard buttocks
rested on him. "Firm mattress!" she called out, and he felt the bed stiffen
under him. "Firmer."
Berto finally got his shirt off as Sam pulled her knees up and planted
her feet on either side of his hips. Palms flat on his chest for balance, she
began roughly bouncing her hips up and down. Her snug wet channel gripped him
like a fist as she hammered herself on him with single-minded intensity. The
mere violence of it was startling to him, and that was before she started
cursing and yelling.
"Fuck! Yeah! Krikes! Oh. God. Yes! Fuck. Cock. Oh. Oh. Ahh!"
Every downward thrust was accompanied by an exclamation. Berto just lay back,
and watched her with wide eyes, hands gripping her wrists. She was bouncing on
him fiercely, her wet groin smacking his hard enough to bounce him on the
mattress. Every few minutes Sam would lower her knees to the bed and grind
herself viciously against him. It helped her catch her breath, but soon she was
back up, her vagina the only point of contact between them as she cycled up and
down like a piston. At each impact her labia smashed flat around the base of
his cock, as did her clit -- big and round and hard as a marble. She was so wet
he could feel her juices running down the crack of his ass.
She bounced and ground, bounced and ground, cursing and grunting and
panting, all the while staring him in the eye with an almost scary intensity.
Soon her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and she shone in the light coming
through the open doorway.
Berto was sure he was going to have bruises on either side of his pubic
mound from her bony ass. If she hadn't been so rough he would have already
climaxed; she had him a little nervous.
Her motions became jerkier and more spasmodic as she bounced on him,
harder and harder. He reached up and pinched her nipples; they were like little
pebbles between his fingertips. She bounced around them, her breasts pulling
this way and that, as he kept her nipples locked in place. Her curses grew more
unintelligible, falling into animal grunts and groans. He had a hard time
holding on to her nipples, her breasts were slick with sweat. It dripped from
her nose onto his chest, and streaked her rippling stomach.
Finally she barked, a hard high gasping cry, and began a quivering and
shaking, thrusting her pelvis hard against his. Her whole body tensed, the
veins in her neck standing out like steel cables, and her furt clamped down on
him like an oilsoaked vise. She jerked her mound against his slowly, like a
metronome, each impact forcing a grunt through her clenched teeth, the time
between each grinding thrust growing longer and longer.
With a grunt of his own Berto tensed up, and as Sam finally ground to a
stop atop him his pulsing organ shot spurt after spurt into her. She collapsed
onto him, chest heaving like she'd just finished a marathon. She pushed the
hair back from her sweaty forehead, and gave him a stunned but warm smile.
"Krikes I needed that," she panted. Her body vibrated on his like a
live wire, slick and hot. "Oh Krikes did I need that."
"You had me scared there for a minute," Berto said with a smile, only
partly joking. "I thought you were trying to break it off."
She pouted a little, and gave him a quick kiss. "I just have all this
pent-up energy after working my twenty," she explained, still panting. She
reached down between her legs and gave his shaft a quick squeeze with her
fingers. "Not broken off yet," she said with a smile. "So, how are you doing?"
He felt her inner muscles clench around his mostly hard cock.
It struck him then just how totally opposite she and Gilly were from one
another. Gilly was all youthful enthusiasm coupled with unexpected shyness and
naivete. Her pale young skin was all rubbery curves and pink spots when she got
excited. She had buckets of enthusiasm, but very little skill or technique.
The joy with Gilly was seeing just how much fun she was having.
Sam, on the other hand, was leather--wrapped steel, and seemed much
older than Gilly, although if Gilly was twenty-three they couldn't be that far
apart in age. She was a long-limbed sexual spider sitting on top of him -- he
had the feeling they'd hardly cracked the door of her sexual closet, that she
knew tricks he'd never even heard of.
"A little dizzy, but I'll survive," Berto replied with a smile.
Sam grinned sexily and straightened up so that she was sitting properly
atop him. Her brown skin glistened with sweat, and he stroked her thighs and
stomach with his palms.
"Oooh, nice," she said. She reached around behind her ass and took hold
of his balls. As Berto reached up and massaged her flat breasts she began
slowly pumping her hips back and forth, working his tool around inside her wet
channel. In no time he found himself back at full mast.
"Let me do some work," he said, sitting up. Sam grinned wildly and
scampered off. She presented her narrow backside to him in what he soon
discovered was her favorite position. Her slack folds hung down between her
thighs and wiggled like a turkey's comb as he moved around on the bed behind
her. Her skinny ass in combination with the wrinkled, dangling lips made her
furt seem oversize, but Berto found her nice and snug, even after the rough ride
she'd just taken.
She was as hard as a rock, every cell in her muscled body clenched tight
as he pounded into her from behind. She pushed herself back at him as far as
was possible, trying to sink him deeper. Sam grunted under the impact every
time he slammed into her, but she liked it, liked it rough. She slammed back,
bit her lip, and smiled to herself as he rode her hard.
His balls swung violently under her, slapping her mound every time he
reversed direction. She reached between her legs and grabbed his sack, and
squeezed and pulled on it as he pounded away. The sensations as she tugged at
his balls were . . .
"Oh Krikes," he grunted, hunching over her narrow back, humping her seed
into her with spasmodic jerks of his hips.
"Yeah! Give it to me! Fuck that furt! Fuck me like a Dane!" Sam
pushed hard against him as Berto thrust and pulsed inside her. "Fill my
biglipped cunt!"
Berto slowed to a jerking stop, panting. Her lithe body was like a wild
animal's under him, thrumming with energy. Cords of muscle stood out on either
side of her backbone, and ran down to the dimples at the small of her back. He
still gripped her hips in his hands, and could tell just from her body language
that she wanted more scooping. Unfortunately, he needed a little time for
retooling. Maybe he should look around for that X-Tend vacpac.
Even though his cock was, at that moment, shrinking, his desire for her
was unquenched. The things she said . . . he'd never had a woman who'd talked
dirty in bed before, and he realized what he'd been missing.
"Krikes, you are unbelievable," he said. As she looked over her
shoulder he flipped her over onto her back. She yelped in surprise and laughed,
eagerly spreading her legs for him.
As muscled as Sam's body was, she was anything but stiff; she grabbed
the inside of her spread thighs and pulled them back until her knees touched the
bed. Berto lay before her and buried his face between her legs. She was
sweaty, and sloppy, and tasted of his semen which leaked steadily out of her
hole, but Berto didn't care. He attacked her sensitive flesh voraciously, like
a cannibal who'd forgotten how to bite.
Her long winglike labia were a delight; he flicked them this way and
that with his tongue, sucked on them, nibbled at their edges. Sam groaned and
pulled her heels in close, arched her hips up toward his mouth.
Berto slid first one finger, then another into Sam's hot center. She
was soupy with his seed and her own excitement, and his fingers swam in her as
he pumped and twisted them about. He found her clit and used his lips and
tongue on it. It was large as the end of his thumb, dark red and hard, and it
radiated heat like a rock just pulled from a fire.
"Oh yeah, suck that pussy. Suck it! Krikes that feels good. Ohh, your
fingers -- Ah shit! Tonguefuck my furt you animal!" She let go of a knee to
press his face harder into her sloppy sex and continued to growl obscenities.
"You like it? You like the taste of my cunt? I'm so fucking wet." Her words
inflamed him and Berto worked at her even more vigorously. He turned his hand
over so his fingers could curl up inside her, and he massaged the knot of
sensitive flesh just inside her pubic bone.
"Cocklicker!" she nearly screamed, curling up off the bed, the tendons
in her neck standing out like ropes. "Gape-assed whore bag!" Berto tongued and
sucked hard on her clit and massaged in small circles the nerve bundle inside
her with the flats of her fingers.
Sam lost the ability to speak and seemed locked into position, arched
off the bed, eyes bulging, veins in her arms like sausages. At first no sound
escaped from her, teeth clenched, lips back in near-rictus, but then her mouth
opened into a ruby chasm and a scream erupted from her. She bucked violently on
the bed, Berto's head trapped between her scissoring thighs. Sounds unlike any
he'd ever heard spewed from her as she writhed on the bed. He hung on as well
as he could, sucking and rubbing, trying not to black out as her thighs squeezed
his neck like a vise. Her internal muscles clamped down on his fingers as she
bucked and heaved, but he kept working his fingers inside her imprisoning flesh.
She squirted, several times, right into his face, the clear fluid running down
his chin onto his hand.
Finally the maelstrom ended, and the pressure of her cable-like thighs
eased enough for him to draw an unrestricted breath.
"I can't tell you the last time I had a guy lick my furt who knew what
he was doing," Sam gasped. She opened her thighs the rest of the way and lifted
her head so she could see him. They smiled at each other, Berto's face a slimy
mess from his nose down. He pushed himself back onto his knees and rubbed his
neck.
"Did I squeeze you?" she asked, honestly ignorant.
"A little bit," he acknowledged.
"You poor baby," she said with a grin, rolled over, and came after him.
She swallowed his entire semi-hard organ in one gulp, smashing her nose
against his mound. She sucked aggressively at him, and used her tongue
inventively. Berto watched her working his shaft like a woman starving. She
slurped and huffed and glorped, somehow knowing the sounds would excite him.
His organ grew quickly as she let the saliva hang in strings from her
lips, bobbing her head and sucking and slurping at him. Sam stuck several
fingers in her mouth and coated them with spit, then smeared it deep into the
crack of his ass. She rewet her middle finger, then smoothly slid it between
his legs and right into him.
Eeoooh!" He jerked, startled. No woman had ever done that to him
before, much less one who so obviously knew what she was doing. She pressed
hard on his prostate, massaged it, and his cock got harder than he thought
possible. Now that he was fully erect his cock gagged her if she tried to
swallow it all, but that didn't stop her. She pushed forward, opening wide,
gagging and slurping, finger worming in his ass. Suddenly Gilly's head was down
there beside Sam's, looking up at him mischievously. Sam backed off and turned
her head a little to look at Gilly, still sucking hard on the head of Berto's
cock.
"Can I join in?" Gilly asked with a cute pouting smile. "It sounded
like you were having a lot of fun." Berto turned his head and saw that they'd
never bothered to close the bedroom door.
Not waiting for a reply, Gilly began nibbling at the base of his shaft.
Sam continued to suck at its head. Gilly was already nude, and as he caught
glimpses of her half-full breasts swaying beneath her he saw she'd donned her
steel nipple rollers. Her body looked soft and white, like a baby's, next to
Sam's tanned physique.
"I still get his cock next," Sam said, finally letting his cock out of
her mouth with a Plop! She lay back on the bed and spread her legs. "Stick
your finger in his ass, like I was just doing," she told Gilly. Berto, halfway
to Sam's prostrate body, halted and nervously looked back over his shoulder.
Sam grabbed him and pulled him on top of her, in no mood to wait. He sunk his
cock into her just as Gilly got a finger inside him. He stiffened, then relaxed
and began pumping vigorously. On every upstroke Gilly's finger would wiggle
deep into him. He couldn't help groaning. Gilly wasn't sure what she was
supposed to be doing with her finger, so she redoubled her efforts.
"Holy Christ!" Berto gasped. Beneath him Sam smiled, and crossed her
ankles high up behind his back. He stared into her beautiful face and they
kissed, tongues gently entwining. He grunted into her mouth as Gilly explored
his interior. She seemed genuinely intrigued by the feel of him around her
finger.
Sam broke the kiss and called out to Gilly, "Stick a finger in my ass,
too. I don't see why he should have all the fun."
From mere inches away he could tell just by the look on Sam's face
exactly when the finger pushed into her.
"Does that feel good?" he heard Gilly say from behind him. "I've never
tried it." From the almost alien expressions of ecstasy on Sam's face he knew
Gilly's finger had to be dancing in her just as it was in him. In fact, he
could feel it inside her, against the underside of his cock. The membranes
separating the two probes in Sam were thinner than he would've suspected.
"Just you wait," Sam managed to gasp.
