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Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: Only when she was forced to have sex could she enjoy it! Monica's father was a neocon and her mother a hotblooded liberal. The two sides of her sexual nature, ardor and repression were constantly at war. This is the story of her struggle to achieve a modicum of freedom, dignity, equality, and happiness while seeking fulfillment as a slave. For if she found the right man, she wanted to be his willing slave.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler,
eBookwise Release Date: May 2009

6 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [170 KB]
Words: 35083
Reading time: 100-140 min.

CHAPTER ONE

"Go ahead, touch it," Art said, looking down between his legs.

His erect penis had a magnet-like effect on Monica. She was drawn to it, pulled to it, fascinated with it. She had never seen a man's cock before, only in pictures. She hadn't imagined it to be so big, so thick. She wanted to touch it but she was afraid.

Art held his organ straight up, so the tip of it touched the steering wheel. He spread his legs and adjusted the sound of the stereo tape player with his left hand. "It won't bite," he whispered, winking at Monica.

They had been on a date and had driven to a secluded spot in the country, along with about twenty other cars which now were parked alongside the road, nestled in the dark trees. It was a quiet place ... a romantic place ... a place for sex.

They kissed for a few minutes. Art let his tongue move down and lick Monica's chin, then he sucked it, which really turned her on. She started to moan and to sigh, and he moved around to her ear and kissed her there, running his tongue around the rim. Then she did the same to him, exhaling her warm breath in a slow delicate stream of excitement. Art's cock went rigid in his pants.

Monica loved the rough feel of his adolescent beard. She liked the force of his arm around her shoulder, the pressure of her hand wedged tightly between her shapely young legs. She liked the feel of his body near hers, the sound of his breathing, the charged atmosphere of the locked little automobile. But she was still afraid. Monica was yet a virgin.

Monica Jordan was still a virgin, but she was learning. Anyone who ever kissed her realized she had a natural aptitude for love. And now Art Roundtree wanted to see just how far this aptitude would take her-he wanted her virginity more than anything in the world.

He couldn't wait any longer. He reached over and grabbed her hand and placed it around the fat shaft of his hot cock. Monica trembled, but she didn't pull away. She felt it-so warm, so hard and yet so soft!-and held onto it as he moaned and squirmed in the seat.

Art drove his hand as far between her legs as he could, into the damp dark place there. "Honey, I want you," he whispered. Monica put her head on his shoulder. "Baby," Art said, "you're driving me crazy!"

Monica wanted him too, but it wasn't happening the way she had hoped or dreamed. Here they were, cramped in the front seat of his car, not in a bed, not on a carpeted floor with a fire burning nearby. In a car. She didn't want it that way. She thought for a moment about going out onto the ground-but it was damp and wet and dangerous. This wasn't what she wanted at all. And though she loved the feel of his manhood between her fingers, she released his throbbing cock and pulled back into the passenger seat.

"What?" Art asked, surprised.

"I can't. Not tonight," Monica said softly.

Art blew up. He had been building to this point, hoping for it for a long time, and now it was ruined because of some stupid whim of hers. "You're nothing but a goddamn tease! An honest Cajun whore is noble next to a cunt like you." He stuffed his cock back in his pants and zipped them up. "The cheapest thing a girl can do is to promise everything and give nothing."

Monica was almost in tears. She couldn't stand him yelling at her, she didn't deserve it. She wanted to give herself to this guy, wholeheartedly. She had changed, she had finally overcome her fears and frustrations, and she was ready for the fuck of her life. But she wanted it to be in the right place at the right time. Art was the right guy, but the setting was wrong. The timing was off.

"Art, listen, don't you think I want to do it? Don't you think I dream about it at night? I used to try to imagine what it looked like..." She pointed to His penis, still hard in his pants. "But not in a car, not out here."

Art was silent for a moment. Then Monica moved her fingers over his neck and through his hair. He smiled and apologized. "I'm sorry for shouting. You just don't know what an unsatisfied hard on can do to a guy!"

"I guess women have better control than men. I'm so hot myself..." Monica mumbled.

Art grabbed her and kissed her hard on the mouth, shoving his tongue almost down her throat. She held him, pulled his hair, and felt the heat in her thighs, the warm wonderful twitching deep in her pussy that told her she wanted his cock in there as much as he wanted to put it in there.

Monica's fingers worked themselves down to his zipper and she opened it easily. In a second she had his cock out, in her hand again, moving the skin up and down as it swelled beneath her touch. She'd read about masturbation-how guys did it with their hand around their organ--in a book her father had, and she remembered now what it said:

...grasping the penis in hand, most men rapidly move the skin of the organ up and down, stimulating the tip or the glans with each stroke. This also causes the testicles to move up and down, sending ripples of excitement through the man's body.

She instinctively did the right thing. She looked down and watched as she tightened her grip on his cock and moved it up and down, first with staccato jerks, but then with a smooth rhythm.

"Am I doing good?" she whispered.

Art's eyes were closed in ecstasy. He began to open his belt and unfasten the top of his pants. "Oh, Monica, my cock never felt so good."

Monica worked her hand up and down as Art slipped his pants down to his knees. He wasn't wearing any underwear, which excited Monica for some strange reason. She saw the big sac under his cock, and yes, just as the book said, it lifted and fell with each stroke of her hand.

"Oh, don't stop, don't stop," Art moaned over and over, thrashing his head on the back of the seat. He moved one hand between her legs again and held tightly to the steering wheel with the other. He knew he could come at any moment, but he wanted to hold off as long as he could.

"It's so big, it's so beautiful," Monica said, watching intently as the purplish mushroom head began to swell even more. Then she saw something wet and glistening on the tip and it made her hand slide easier.

"I'm going to come, baby," Art said, thrusting his hips off the seat. "Reach under my ass, grab my balls with your other hand," he ordered.

Monica reached under his sweating ass and took his massive balls in her hand. She held them, pulling on them just slightly, as he let out a shout and held his breath. His cock jerked and began to spray the car with semen! It shot out like fire from a cannon! Gobs of thick white cum covered the steering wheel, the ceiling of the car, Monica's hand and blouse and cheek. Still, she kept beating his penis till the last drop of semen had dribbled down over her fingers. Then she pulled her hand out from under him and Art sank into the seat.--

He opened his eyes and whispered, "Thank you," then kissed her again. He was exhausted, spent. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his cock clean as Monica watched in fascinated silence. But it did not soften. It remained rigid and hard and ready.

Monica leaned back against the door of the car, spreading her legs in front of him. She wanted him to do the same to her, to make her come with his hand. She unbuttoned her blouse all the way and her young, free, hard breasts were exposed in the soft moonlight. Art gasped and immediately took one in his mouth, chewing on the nipple till she had to beg him to stop. It hurt-but she let him do it again, to the other one, almost enjoying the painful sensation.

Then he lifted her miniskirt and rubbed his fingers up and down the lips of her cunt, through the nylon panties. He was slow. And the ecstatic pleasure was increased because of it. His fingers moved with a spider's touch on her mound of love. Then he lifted her panties, putting both of his hands on the leg openings, and ripped them open!

"Art!" Monica exclaimed, shocked!

"I'll buy you a new pair," Art mumbled, pulling the ripped garment from her body. He opened the glove compartment and stuffed them in. Then, without a word, he slipped his fingers between her legs and pressed against her hot naked pussy.

Monica wanted to respond to his outrageous act, to tell him to drive her home, but she was lost in a sea of pleasure. It was different, so different, when another person placed a hand where your own had always been. It was so much more exciting to be masturbated by someone else! She heaved her breasts and rotated her hips gracefully under Art's touch.

"Go ahead, put your fingers in me," she said.

"I'm gonna finger-fuck you crazy, Monica," Art said clearly, then shoved two fingers into her pussy. The lips spread easily and his fingers moved with her natural lubrication. Suddenly, he thrust his long fingers as fast and as far into her as they would go.

Monica felt a surge of pain within her, but she couldn't deny the maddening pleasure that went with it. He pulled out and shoved in again, and again, and again. He was finger-fucking her now, harder than she had ever done it to herself, and she felt something very wet between her legs.

She looked down to see a thin stream of blood on her white thighs. She cried out and shivered.

"It's all right, it's all right," Art whispered, pulling out his handkerchief. He wiped her pussy and kept the handkerchief pressed to her vulva. "It'll make it easier when I put my big cock in there."

Monica feared he meant he was going to do it right then, but he sat up and put his penis back into his pants. Then he looked at her with a serious look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Monica smiled, "I was just frightened to see that. I knew it would happen, but it still shocked me."

"I want to fuck you, Monica. Very soon. You just say where and when, and I'll be there with the biggest erection you've ever seen. And I'll be gentle."

She believed him. She trusted him. She kissed him and held him close to her naked breasts. "Yes," she whispered, "very soon."

He drove her back to Kenner.

For the following two weeks, Monica lived quietly. She felt "down in the dumps" for some reason, dull. Art phoned her many times, but she had made excuses to keep from seeing him. Why? She wasn't exactly sure.

With the pain gone from her ruptured hymen, all the old burning passions were revived. Her nights were again sleepless and filled with lascivious dreams and longings. She would dream of Art's cock and would see it shooting off, covering her with its white gift. Such dreams might have satisfied another hot Cajun girl, but not Monica. She was too sensual and earthy a female and her father's conservative blood was overbalanced by the hot French infiltration from her mother's side.

So when Art telephoned Monica that he desired to take her to the TV engineers' party at the El Rancho Country Club, she was more than just willing to go. Somehow, she felt that night might symbolize her sexual freedom.'

Monica moaned lazily in her bath enveloped in a steaming aura of bath oil. She arose from the bathtub and fondled her luscious sleek figure. Her fingers played upon her intimate organs delicately and she stopped regretfully. Tonight they would be united and caressed in nature's own beautiful way. What right had she to stimulate herself artificially? How could this compare to the actual masculine contact?

She rubbed herself with the large towel and admired her shapely olive-creamed flesh with growing customary delight. What loveliness her mirror reflected. Tonight her beauty was doubly precious because it would contribute to Art's desires as well as her own.

Monica took the huge powder puff and dipped it into the lightly scented white powder, then ran its feathery touch over her figure. It was a luxurious feeling, a good feeling. The puff tickled her caressingly as she worked it carefully between her deep-clefted rounded breasts.

She put on a pair of minipanties with fancy lace hems. Then she wiggled into a tight evening dress, long and tapered with butterfly sleeves and a plunging neckline which served her breasts well. Her buttocks and hips rounded smoothly behind her. She chose high-heeled platform shoes and a simple thick sparkling bracelet.

Her vitally alive and gleaming long hair, black as a bayou night, was tied up in a delicious sweeping mass, with beautiful ringlets resting on the nape of her creamy neck.

As she checked the contents of her small handbag, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door and stood there, smiling a teasing smile. Art looked at her, stunned. And Monica started to realize the power she held over men.

The El Rancho Country Club was swinging--music, drinks, noise, people. Art escorted Monica through the crowd, introducing her to his friends. Then a secretary poked a cocktail under Monica's nose. She smiled, sipped, and giggled. Then the secretary whispered something into Monica's ear and she pulled back, startled, and then smiled again.

The honey-crowned sex kitten slowly tilted Monica's smooth chin, then quickly but firmly planted a passionate kiss full upon her lush lips.

Art playfully booed and hissed. The burly station manager was standing nearby. He broke up in a fit of laughter. A New Orleans jazz band suddenly blared out with No Hangup at All. Art gave Monica just enough seconds to return the kiss, then whirled his beautiful partner out onto the dance floor. She seemed to dissolve in his arms. They danced onto the center of the floor, their arms locked about each other, insensible to the world going on around them.

Later that night, Art and Monica teamed up with Rick Dodson, a popular TV announcer in the New Orleans metropolitan area and his darling redhead girl friend-Donna Dupree, an exotic strip dancer, whose name flashed in multicolored neon over the most exclusive nightstop in the French Quarter.

Soon, the two couples were soon roaring along the Metro Expressway toward the notorious Coon-Knot Inn. Rick was driving with Donna leaning against him. Monica and Art sat in the back seat wrapped in each other's arms. Rick drove with one arm and the other greedily fondling Donna's almost exposed delicious breasts. He grumbled cheerfully about having to chauffeur, but didn't look over his shoulder.

Driving with one hand and playing with Donna's rosy erect nipples at the same time was job enough, because Donna was all female and erotically playful.

The gulf coast breeze roared by and the V-8 engine droned hypnotically in Monica's ears as Art's lips blended with hers-long, moist, lingering kisses. Their lips seemed glued. Their wet tongues clashed and an electronic impulse tingled through them. The sedan came to an abrupt and screeching halt on the blacktop parking area as Rick applied the brakes with youthful exuberance.

The two couples piled out of the Olds and were swept into the infamous Coon-Knot Inn by other seekers of erotic excitement. A myriad of tables covered with shiny, hard surface tops, dim multi-colored lights hanging from the low ceilings, almost nude waitresses scurrying to and fro, bearing drink-laden trays--red, red, red--the color of love.

They were finally escorted to a table in a corner, where they had a fair view of the dance floor which was packed with varied-type couples. Apparent lesbians slowly dancing with their girl friends, male homos with their shaggy-haired boyfriends, and the usual assortment of male/female couples.

Their drinks arrived and they sat there sipping them, toasting one another to a good season in the TV broadcasting industry. The liquor added to their amorous desires. Donna leaned forward and her curving full breasts sprung loose from the extremely low-cut satin evening gown. Monica giggled, then slowly blushed. Art winked at Rick. Monica took her own sweet time assisting Donna to re-encase the luscious pair of nude breasts. Her fingers played upon the olive-tinted flesh and berry-perked nipples.

Monica certainly possessed a pair of puckering, lush, kissable lips. Donna glanced around and quickly "stole" a delicious kiss from Monica.

The Dixieland bandstand unslung with Concho Superstar. Rick swept Donna onto her feet and out among the dancers. With the next accord, Monica and Art rose to their feet and swung with an old barbaric rhythm that years of pink civilization had failed to atrophy. There they stood, hips weaving-man, woman, and desire. The muted trumpets had a silvery sound, the low ceiling seemed to descend even lower.

Monica's plump shapely buttocks were thrusting forward to meet Art's roll. "Oh, sock it, Art!" And they did, nearly delirious with delight. You could have fenced off one square foot of the dance floor because that was all each couple needed. The Dixieland orchestra swung with every musical beat. They were not too far away from the savage jungle.

Now Monica and Art were standing nearly still. He could feel her shapely breasts with their slender nipples pressing like tiny bayonets against his shirt front, through the unbuttoned folds of his blazer jacket.

The heat of the nightspot produced an indescribable odor as a slight perspiration released the scent Monica used on her flesh and the body smell of the fresh, virginal woman combined with the odor of perfume had a most aphrodisiacal effect.

Art looked down at her and whispered his desire in Monica's ear. She nodded and they danced off the crowded floor and returned to their reserved table.

When Concho Superstar ended, Rick and Donna rejoined Monica and Art. Donna was feeling her heated passions; she leaned down and kissed Art on his lips. Rick chuckled, then stooped over and kissed Monica.

After the two couples were settled down again, Rick slipped Art a motel key. "Number nine, old buddy," said Rick. "Crowded tonight. We've got adjoining cabins. Ours is number ten. Only a thin door inside and between. When you two catch up, stick your heads in and well teach you some tricks about erotica."

"Yeah, pal," Art laughed. "Some fun!"

As Art assisted Monica up from her chair, Donna winked and remarked, "Take it easy, you two. You'll enjoy your thing much better. You might even make it last and last."

Monica blushed, but grinned wickedly across her red lush lips.

The double row of motel courts were located directly behind the expansive CoonKnot Inn. Once inside the double number nine and ten, Art locked the door they had just entered. Rick had left them part of a fifth of Scotch, along with glasses and crushed ice.

"I'll pour you a tall one," Art said, his hands trembling in anticipation.

Monica tried to relax-she had felt extremely daring this evening, kissing, hugging, acting suggestive. No one would have imagined the girl to still be a virgin! But now, faced with the proximity of what was to happen, she worried, and yet she couldn't wait. She was glad they were alone. She didn't want another couple watching as she gave her body to a man for the first time.

Monica strolled across the room to the queen-sized bed, turned down the three-way table lamp, and then slowly began undressing.

She figured the best thing to do would be to turn her head off-to blot out the fears and yield herself up to pleasure.

When Art turned to her, drink in hand, he froze on the spot. He nervously placed the tall glass atop the nearby nightstand. Monica stood shyly before him, totally nude. The lamp cast a golden shadow over her lovely body. She moved her hand up to remove the silver clasp from her soft mass of thick long hair. The long tresses came tumbling down, lusciously draping her fleshy shoulders and upper backside. Nothing could stop Art from kissing her. His craving mouth sealed itself over her soft lips. Monica began unbuttoning his shirt...

In a few moments he stood in his jockey shorts, facing her. She looked down to see the fullness in the white crotch. Then she did something she hadn't expected herself to do-she fell to her knees and hugged the lower part of his body to her. Her cheek pressed against his swelling cock, and she grasped the cheeks of his ass with her hands. She held him tight, her hard nipples brushing against his hairy strong legs. He ran his hands through her hair and felt his cock hardening under the pressure of her head.

Monica pulled her face back and looked at his shorts. She-could see the outline of his cock, standing sideways along his hip, almost protruding from the soft cotton material. She brought her lips forward and kissed him there, on his thick penis, through the material. Then she wrapped her lips around the swelling and blew hot air through his shorts till the tip of his cock burned.

"Oh Jesus, Monica," Art muttered, hardly able to stand up. He felt weak all over, and his head was light and filled with passion. She kept her lips on his cock till he thought he'd fall over.

"I want to see it," Monica whispered, tugging at the elastic band. His jockey shorts came down to reveal a thicket of dark hair and the same huge cock she had touched a few weeks before. It looked even more beautiful now, even more full and thick. She stared at it and then kissed the tip.

"Take it, honey, please," Art begged, and Monica let the tip of his penis slide into her mouth. She held it there for a moment, and then took more as he sighed, watching her lips fit around his giant organ. Monica pulled back. She wanted to learn how, but she was afraid she would bite it, and she wanted something else more than that right now.

She stood up. "I want to learn to suck it," Monica said, coyly.

"I'll teach you, private lessons," Art kidded as the tip of his organ pressed up against her belly. They kissed again and again and finally tumbled onto the white sheets. Art's head moved between her beautiful breasts. He could feel her heart flutter and he sensed a feeling awe-this is what he had dreamed about, desired for so long. It had been his masturbation fantasy, and suddenly it was becoming true. No more beating off for him-now he had the real thing!

His emotions told him to go easy. He ran his fingers up and down her sides like a sculptor modeling clay. She shuddered beneath his touch. He kissed her lips, her neck, her delicious breasts. His lips bit down easy on the rocklike nipples. Then he buried his fingers in the soft downy hair between her thighs.

He tenderly caressed the lips of her pussy, parting them gently, as she moaned, "Oh yes, please..!"

His finger entered and probed until he located her little hard clitoris. It stood erect quivering for aggressive titillation. Art felt his finger warm as the wet feminine juices began to flow. He knew she was ready to be fucked, not only by his finger, but by his cock. He shoved his finger as far up her as it could go-then he pulled it out.

He put his cock into position. The tip touched her pussy lips and she gasped. She knew this was it, this was the moment she had feared and hoped for, the moment of supreme pain and passion, "thick me, Art," she said clearly, her eyes inviting him, ordering him.

Art plunged his cock into her virgin cunt! She felt it enter and then everything seemed to go black as a surge of pain ran through her-her pussy felt numb, filled to the bursting point. But in a moment, she was calm again and the pain was turning to pleasure. Art didn't move a muscle. He let her pussy get used to the invading member, letting the walls of her cunt learn to clasp and hug his cock till it filled her body with cum.

. She opened her eyes and smiled-again, that inviting, commanding look. He pulled his hips back and thrust his cock all the way up her again. She thought she'd die of pain, but again it disappeared and in its place was a magic feeling of excitement and fulfillment.

Art only had been in her a minute and he was ready to come-he knew there would be no holding it back. Her pussy was the tightest thing he'd ever been in, and his cock was being caressed by hot hungry wet walls. Even the thought in his head-that he was fucking this beautiful virgin girl for the first time in her life-was enough to cause him to have an orgasm.

"I'm COMING!" Art yelled, shattering the silence of the motel room. He plunged down, collapsing on top of her, letting his cream fill her body.

"Oh, my God," Monica whispered as she felt the hot burning surge of male liquid deep within her. She could feel it running down the length of his cock, seeping out around the lips of her cunt, dribbling down his balls onto her asshole. She moaned and then began to cry. He licked and kissed the tears from her face.

She lay flat on her back as he pulled his cock slowly out of her. Then he got a wet towel from the bathroom and cleansed her. There had been little blood, and he wiped up what was there. The cool towel felt good, somehow exciting, and then she sat up and looked down at his half-hard cock and took it in her hand. "It was incredible," she said, staring into his eyes.

"I know," Art replied.

"Come, lay next to me," she said. He jumped into bed and they relaxed. His strong cock rested limp against his thigh and she touched it with her fingers, playing with it as they rested. He put his hands up under his head, still feeling famished from the wondrous climax he had reached.

"Your pussy hurt?" he asked, touching it lightly with his fingers.

"Not as much as I'd expected," she murmured and kissed him on the cheek.

Then both heads turned to the door separating the two rooms. They heard a voice-Donna was calling out Rick's name over and over, in rising excitement. Monica turned to Art and giggled. What was going on in there?

"Shall we take a peek?" Art asked. Monica nodded. And together they went to the door, opened it, and stood there, Monica peering over Art's shoulder, into the room beyond.

Rick was kneeling at the side of the bed. Donna was lying flat on the bed, her legs spread wide, her breasts heaving on her body. Rick's head was buried between her thighs, lapping her cunt like a puppy dog!

"Tongue me, Rick baby," Donna stuttered.

Rick's hands held her legs apart. Monica could see his long cock standing up between his legs, rubbing against the side of the bed. He and Donna remained oblivious to their audience--they were too excited to notice the two people in the doorway.

Art reached around to play with Monica's breasts as she brought her hands around his body to touch his now erect cock. Rick and Donna kept at it. Donna called out in passion and Rick slammed his head against her cunt so hard, Monica was surprised his face didn't disappear up the girl's open pussy!

"Faster, Rick! Fuck me with your tongue!" Donna slammed her fists into the mattress.

Rick moaned and ate her cunt as fast and hard as he could. His entire face was wet with her fluids, wet with his perspiration. Then Donna thrashed around on the bed as she reached a climax under his oral manipulations. Monica and Art stood there in shocked excitement.

Suddenly, as Donna's sighs softened, Rick turned to look at the two people in the doorway. His wide eyes were on fire. His face and moustache were wet. His cock was long and hard. He ran across the room and knelt in front of Monica and Art. Then, quickly, he took Art's cock into his mouth and started sucking on it. And at the same moment he stuffed three fingers up Monica's cunt. Monica, shocked surprised, opened her mouth in a gasp. Then Art kissed her hard and she forgot about her shock and started to groove on the fingers sliding expertly in and out of her.

In a moment, though it seemed longer, Art pulled away and held his breath. He looked down, smashing his hard cock in and out of Rick's young dark face. "I'm gonna come in your mouth, kid," he said in a deep tone. Donna watched from the bed, fascinated. Monica stared in excited fury. Sure enough, Rick's cheeks suddenly bloated as Art called out, shoving his cock halfway down the kid's throat. Art pumped all his semen into Rick's mouth.

Then a strange and terribly exciting thing happened. Art pulled his cock out of Rick's mouth and Art said, "Give Monica a great big sloppy kiss."

Rick brought his face to Monica's, his cock pressing against her belly. He held her to him and then pressed his lips to hers. He opened them and kissed her--and to her great shock her mouth suddenly filled with hot, warm thick liquid. Rick had saved Art's cum in his mouth and now let it flow into Monica's soft, warm mouth! Monica moaned, trying to pull away, but Rick held to her, with his arms and with his mouth. She swallowed and swallowed and kissed him passionately.

"Drink my cum," Art said, standing next to her, rubbing both her ass and Rick's ass at the same time.

Rick rubbed his cock up and down her belly, breaking their kiss, closing her eyes. She stared at him and realized what he was going to do--he was going to come all over her stomach! She moved up and down. Donna came over and knelt behind Rick, kissing his ass, reaching between his legs to caress his throbbing balls. Art ran his hand up and down the kid's back. They were all helping Rick reach the orgasm of his life.

Then Rick shouted, "Oh! man!" and his white load shot out all over Monica's belly! Her body was drenched with his cum-it spurted up between her breasts and wet the front of her body down to her knees. Her pussy hair was covered with droplets of white cum, and when he pulled away, Donna started licking his semen off Monica's stomach, and finally licked the girl's pussy clean.

Monica couldn't stand it any longer-she loved it but at the same time she wanted to stop, to rest, to be alone. She let Donna caress her pussy with her lips for a minute more, then she pulled back and hugged Art. Rick lay on the bed, spent and ready for sleep.

Monica looked down at Rick and asked him if it had been good.

"Fantastic," Rick replied.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Mark Spitz?" Monica asked.

"Yeah. And I'm as good a fucker as he is a swimmer." Rick winked and turned over to cuddle a pillow.

"I may find out someday," Monica said, and took Art's hand and walked into the next room. Donna closed the door and in a minute the bed could be heard squeaking from beyond the door.

Donna and Rick were at it again!

Art and Monica laughed and soon fell asleep in each other's arms.