Too Much of a Good Thing Ch. 04

Then suddenly it was over. By what gesture I know not, but Model 2, finally, had given the sign, her fail safe sign. She was done. Tracey untied her bounds and unclipped the clamps and carried her bodily across to a padded bench at the far side of the room.

‘Now for the other one,’ she said, ‘Model 2 managed 15, let’s see what you can do!’

And again there was nothing for it but to get in position with my dick in my girls mouth and root for her as that deadly whip cracked into her raw, exposed cunt walls, blow compounding blow. How that tiny frame could absorb such punishment I cannot even hazard a guess, but she did and as the sixteenth blow fell, a particularly vicious cut I shared with her her triumph. Against the odds, she had come out ahead. And wonder of wonders, as Tracey released her from her bonds and made as if to carry her across the room, she stopped her and said ‘But there’s unfinished business!’

And she sat on the bench and beckoned me forward. And then she took the head of my cock in her mouth and the shaft in her hand and sucked and pumped me until I was as stiff as a flagpole. Then she lay down on the bench with her legs apart exposing that tortured pussy, and bade me enter her and fuck her, grasping onto me with her arms and gripping me with her legs until the most crushing orgasm overcame me and her pain turned truly into exquisite pleasure. As I came, no less did she, and together we bucked and fucked and humped and finally fell apart, limp with exhaustion, but satiated like never before.

Angel filmed it all. ‘Not bad,’ she said admiringly, putting down the camera. ‘For a pair of amateurs!’

‘Knew she was a damned whore the moment I set eyes on her,’ was Tracey’s parting shot!

As you can imagine, this entire episode had left me confused, disconcerted and even quite horrified at my own participation. I excuse myself only in that I was unwittingly drawn into a state of delusional delirium where one’s normal inhibitions and sense of proportion went out of the window and new, frightening purely animalistic instincts took over.

I spent some time alone at the pool, perhaps trying to wash away the day’s experience. Angel came out some time later to announce that Clint’s limo had conveyed away the girls and all the apparatus they had brought with them for the filming. I told her about the way I felt.

‘Nonsense,’ was her reply. ‘You did what any guy lucky enough to be in your circumstances would do. I thought you did great. Turned me on something awful.’

And so saying, she nestled up to me and I felt her hand reach down for my cock.

But this was too much for me!

‘Angel,’ I said firmly, drawing away. ‘I can’t be involved in this kind of thing. So I admit I was turned on, and to a level that I have never before experienced. But I can’t assimilate all this. I just had the most intense orgasm of my life fucking a waif of a girl who’s cunt has been flayed to ribbons and who still came with me like an fucking express train! I don’t even know her name: Model 1!? Please understand, Angel, I need to get away to clear my head and understand what happened. Please understand. I just have to go now.’
Angel withdrew and her attitude changed to one of nonchalance.

‘Suit yourself,’ she said lightly. ‘Don’t call me. I’ll call you!’

I like to think this indifference was feigned, but, well, the male ego is what it is and who knows what Angel was really thinking and feeling as I got in my car and, vaguely conscious that I was taking a step that could prove irreversible, I drove away down the hill.

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