Edward Lee by Room 415 Read Free Book Online Page A

breasts jounced with each slug.
    Flood’s climax burst, releasing the mental stopper on the day’s agonizing back-up of semen. Like last night, it flew out the window in what seemed several yard-long strings. And like last night, there’d been not an inkling of any last-second sabotaging image of Felicity. His orgasm unwound as a celebration, bringing tears to his eyes. He staggered back when it was finally all gone, his loins buzzing. His cock felt content as a beast that had just fed gluttonously.
    When he regained some order of sense, he found himself looking back down.
    Please, God. Let them be done...
    Oscar and Leon weren’t done.
    The bald man hunkered low, in one hand an empty beer bottle, in the other a hammer.
    “You said you wanted her fucked up. Well, this’ll fuck her up.”

    Leon stood, a knuckle to his lips, contemplating. “No, no—”
    “What? Going back to Mr. Nice Guy?”
    “She could bleed to death, Osc. I don’t want that. I know— Do like you did that one chick we had a couple years ago. Remember? That Gothy looking bitch who was trying to hustle our girls for some service in Key West.”
    “Oh, yeah! Balloon Pussy! Straight up.” Oscar put the bottle and hammer away, then put the mitt back on. He pushed Therese’s ankles back toward her head, where Leon then grabbed them and pulled them back further. Her ass spread; the flesh of her vagina bloomed forward.
    Oscar slapped down hard against her bared loins with the mitt’s open palm. Time and time again, as hard as a strong man could. Flood reeled, nauseated, but locked in place by the taunt of an instantaneous erection as turgid and insistent as the one his hand had relieved a minute ago. He squeezed it; it felt hard as a steel-tube covered with skin, lust and blood purpling its dome, the slit inflamed and glazed already.
    Oh my God...
    Again, that blade severed his humanity. Now Oscar was punching down outright into Therese’s sex, which was blacking and bluing and swelling before his eyes.
    WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
    And more.
    “Lookit that,” Oscar remarked, subtly impressed by the image of his handiwork. The majoras of Therese’s vagina, indeed, had ballooned with swelling, and with that image the pressure of desire built up similarly in Flood’s penis, backed by further semen straining to be released. Flood thought of a water balloon being slowly squeezed. The idea of calling the police, now, did not exist anywhere in his head. Flood masturbated frenetically, eyes locked below.
    Oscar and Leon were chuckling at the image of Therese’s ludicrously swollen sex.
    “I can’t help it, man,” Oscar chuckled further, dropping his slacks again. “I’ve just gotta fuck this...”
    Oscar banged away, for quite awhile, as Flood nearly jerked the skin off of his own cock. At the moment when he would normally lose everything—when the image of Therese would invert to Felicity—Flood bit down on his lip to stifle the shriek of his pleasure that surely would’ve echoed outside. The first spurt blew against the glass, several more landed in loops on the carpet. This second orgasm of the night felt heroin-like. He stood ridiculously, heart hammering, legs still spread and one arm bracing him against the window frame. Insensible, he looked down and saw an impossibly still-hard penis throbbing. The final string of semen dangled from the piss-slit. When he squeezed his balls, the erection involuntarily flexed, and hook-shotted the remaining sperm in an upward arch where it stuck to his chest like a piece of flung spaghetti.
    “Not enough,” Leon said, out of frame. “It’s the tits that bother me now.”
    “What about ‘em?” Oscar was pulling his pants up again, while Therese lay with her legs wishboned, her genitals a dark swell. “That’s the best pair of tits in your stable.”
    Leon kept the contemplative finger to his lips. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. I paid for them. Let Henry Phipps pay for the next