Pamela Jean Bryant and Monique St. Pierre-- nothing more to say

Pamela Jean Bryant and Monique St. Pierre-- nothing more to say

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Pamela Jean Bryant, born February 8, 1959 in Indianapolis, Indiana, was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for its April 1978 issue. She was an adventurous girl, hitchhiking across the country for the chance to pose for Playboy and first appeared in the September 1977 pictorial "The Girls of the Big Ten”.Her petite body and 35-24-35 figure made her one of Playboy’s most popular playmates. Monique St. Pierre, born November 25, 1953 in Wiesbaden, Germany., was one of the most exotic and alluring girls ever to grace a centerfold. She was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for November 1978 issue and the 1979 Playmate of the Year. She spoke English, German and French. She had signed with the Wilhelmina modeling agency just prior to being chosen to be a Playmate, but was fired soon after her first pictorial was published. In this story the all American girl and the European sex goddess travel to Pennsylvania for a special event at the Basketball Hall of Fame.

Summary

Pamela Jean Bryant, born February 8, 1959 in Indianapolis, Indiana, was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for its April 1978 issue. She was an adventurous girl, hitchhiking across the country for the chance to pose for Playboy and first appeared in the September 1977 pictorial "The Girls of the Big Ten”.Her petite body and 35-24-35 figure made her one of Playboy’s most popular playmates. Monique St. Pierre, born November 25, 1953 in Wiesbaden, Germany., was one of the most exotic and alluring girls ever to grace a centerfold. She was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for November 1978 issue and the 1979 Playmate of the Year. She spoke English, German and French. She had signed with the Wilhelmina modeling agency just prior to being chosen to be a Playmate, but was fired soon after her first pictorial was published. In this story the all American girl and the European sex goddess travel to Pennsylvania for a special event at the Basketball Hall of Fame.

Content

Submitted: October 23, 2015

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Content

Submitted: October 23, 2015

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Everybody loves a party, especially when two delicious Playmates are part of the celebration. On April 30, 1979 Pamela Jean Bryant, Miss April 1978 may have been celebrating the end of her first year as Playboy Playmate, or maybe not; and a celebration of the just revealed 1979 Playmate of the Year, Miss November, 1978, Monique St. Pierre would be in order, maybe. But this celebration was neither; the two luscious blondes were at the 12th Annual Enshrinement Dinner of the Basketball Hall of Fame because it was Wilt the Stilt’s celebration and the pair of delicious Playboy Playmates…well hell, he was now in the Hall of Fame.

More specifically he was on the balcony of the Allan Room of the Chez Josef Banquet Hall. More specifically still, he was inside a succulent blonde Playmate, his massive cock pulsing deep into her tight sweetness.  

You see the Chez Josef Banquet Hall was a perfect place for assignations.  It was the go-to spot for special events, corporate meetings, and weddings. The weddings were big business and over the years they realized that often the best man or the father of the bride would need someplace to go for a serious fuck.  Like when the bride got the urge to let the best man ball her, or when the father of the bride wanted to bang one the bridesmaids. For those in the know, the owners of the Chez Josef Banquet Hall set up a little room off of the balcony of the Allan Ballroom, nothing much, just a narrow bed and some sound-proofed privacy. It was for those in the know, and the Stilt was always in the know.

At the banquet he had been the envy of the rest of the crowd with two luscious blonde Playmates sitting on either side of him. Both girls wore skin tight dresses that sparkled with silver beads and bangles; low cut in the front, even more low cut in the back, thin silver straps to display soft shoulders, the gowns were symphonies in praise of the luscious curves of shapely women. The tight fabric hugged breasts, squeezed over juicy thighs and plump sexy derrieres and the lines flowed down over their gorgeous graceful legs. The dresses were mirrored, sparkling with silver beads and bangles, and they were mirror images with Monique’s gown displaying a slit on the left side that went all the way up to her waist as if to prove that she wasn’t wearing panties; Pamela Jean’s gown had the slit on the right and her youthful skin seemed to glow along with the slithery, glittery silver. The gowns were an advertisement for the glories of sex.  Both girls had their radiant blonde hair piled on their heads in matching coifs of delicate and elaborate design. Their hair shimmered in the light of the dining hall; and the perfection in the arrangement of their hair seemed to add a tension: the coifs too perfect, too fragile in arrangement, clearly designed to be ravished.

The Stilt, Pamela, and Monique made a glamorous trio, as if designed by some Hollywood director to symbolize stunning sensuality and beauty in the thrall of raw lust. The girls had been sent out to the event by Playboy Promotions; they’d been swept off a plane, rushed into a hotel room where they were coifed and primped and adorned, then squeezed into the form-fitting gowns and swept into a stretch limo where the Stilt was eagerly waiting. 

The ride to the banquet was thankfully short because, inside the limo, the girls had a hard time keeping his hands off their glimmering, shimmering, and simmering bodies. 

Pamela Jean, while now an experienced Playmate, was still too young to cope with the Stilt’s brazen confidence. Her tiny hands gripped tight around his wrist but he still managed to get a massive hand over her breast.

“Stop it,” she whined. “You’ll mess up my dress.”

“Damn, you got nice titties.” 

“Hey, no, stop it.”

“I’m gonna really enjoying laying some pipe with you.”

“What? What do you…?” she gasped in exasperation but then she gasped with pleasure as his thumb and forefinger found purchase on her candy-hard nipple. “Later, OK?” Her resistance was weakening as arousal pulsed from her nipple and up to her brain; She began to purr and her eyes were becoming liquid and soft. “After the thing, OK? We’ll have a party back at the…” Suddenly her eyes popped open as he licked over the bare nipple. “Hey, come on! We’re almost there!”

“Damn, I want to fuck you.” His hand was pushing the silver sheath away from her ripe breast and he was salivating, getting ready to engulf it in his mouth.

Her tiny hands struggled to tug the fabric back in place. “Hey, no,” she whined but she was still aroused too, “Not yet. They’re gonna take our picture!” Pamela Jean loved to ball; that couldn’t be denied but she thrilled too to the pleasure of dozens of flashbulbs exploding in a storm whenever she made a Playmate appearance.

Monique spoke up; the Stilt wasn’t ignoring her as his other hand was sliding along the slit of her gown. Worldlier than Pamela, she knew to savor the burn of his lust and she knew how to stoke it and how to tease it along so that anticipation itself was a sensual thrill. Her voice was accented, a cosmopolitan blend of French and German but rich with raw sexual promise even when she was strictly business. “Mr. Chamberlain, the promotions office sent us here to go to the banquet with you.” Her firm hand withdrew his and then she reached over and re-ordered Pamela Jean’s disheveled gown. “We’re all just going to have to control ourselves until after the banquet.” And before he could object, the limo door was swung open and they were caught in explosion of flash bulbs at the red carpet. 

The Stilt exited the limo first; standing more than seven feet tall he towered over everyone like a god looking down from Olympus. His grin was cocky as he preened for the cameras and then he gave the crowd even more to ogle as he graciously helped both girls to the carpet.

Two elegant hands stretched out from the dark of the limo to take his hands; two pairs of shapely legs extended down to delicately place silver slippers onto the red carpet. Then the Playmates slithered out in all their curvaceous shimmering radiance. Monique’s smile was wide and white and exuded pure sex; Pamela Jean’s face was bright with wonderment at the pushing crowds and cheering.  The constant crazy flashing of the cameras caused their gowns to sparkle in a galaxy of bodacious curves. The girls jiggled and preened and the Stilt was forgotten for a moment as Miss April and Miss November were worshiped by the thunder of the crowd and the explosion of camera flashes. Then the girls wriggled to their places, one on either side of him; each slipped a graceful arm into his and they smiled up at him, giving him the adoration the crowd was expecting. He grinned back down at each girl in turn and his grin declared to the booming crowd that they should appreciate the pure beauty and sensuality of these two Playmates while they had the opportunity. Oh, he would give the mob a chance to admire the shimmering curves of these luscious girls but his grin made it clear that only he would be stripping and balling both Miss November and Miss April, the only question being who would he do first.

The girls, enthralled by the lustful roars and brilliant lights, blew kisses to the throng as the trio began to strut down the red carpet. The wriggling, wiggling, shimmering of their curves teased the libidos of all witnesses; pure sex was gyrating under those gowns.

The Stilt took it all as his due. With another jovial grin flashing for the cameras he led them to their table, one girl on each arm. The Playmates, naturally, continued to smile and vamp as the photographers gave them all their attention.

They sat through speeches, and salad and chicken. Pamela, with the appetite of a teenager, gobbled her food ravenously, as if she were eating her last meal; every few moments she would remember she was a Playmate and demurely touch a napkin to her lips but then she would shove in more while nervously glancing around the room. Monique, though, just pushed food around her plate in delicate gestures; she didn’t care to ball on a full stomach so she maintained her regal composure. The Stilt ate heartily, fuelling up for the event to come; he listened half-heartedly to the blather of speeches, his mind on the pleasures Miss April and Miss November would soon be providing.

He was patient for a while, but he could’t keep his mind off his hobby. At first he limited himself to leaning into Pamela Jean and nuzzling his face into her soft throat while murmuring lewd comments in a deep bass voice. "I am going to spend a long time balling you, little girl."

"Shhhsh," the young girl scolded. Dreading the main event, she suddenly found the banquet’s program enthralling and her eyes stayed fixed on the podium as if she was really interested in the history of the Basketball Hall of Fame, but a slight smile appeared on her lips and she didn't push his hand away when he began to stroke the bare skin where the slit of the gown offered up her succulent thigh.

Monique received his ministrations too; more experienced and more exotic and majestic in her porcelain beauty, she sat with her back straight, her face placid, but her shoulders trembled slightly as a large and strong finger teased over the lips of her delicious sex.

The speeches droned on, platters and glasses came and went from there table; finally the girls were too distracted to give any more attention to the food and the Stilt was occupied with enjoying the luscious girls and he had lost all interest in Chicken Picatta and speeches about his illustrious sports career.  

Finally he had enough. 

He abruptly rose and tugged both blondes by their arms. “Let’s go,” he said sharply and the waiters stepped aside to allow a path.

Wilt was going to make his own dessert: Two Blondes and a Chocolate Bar. 

The girls struggled to stay on their feet but it was hard to run in their high-heeled silver slippers and tight dresses. The Silt pulled them along and they were surprised when they started up the stairs to the balcony and more surprised when he opened what looked to be a closet and shoved them in. They both yelped with alarm when they saw how he had decorated the room with their centerfolds pinned to the wall. 

In Pamela Jean’s centerfold she was dressed for a party, or undressing really; wearing a man’s tuxedo shirt and a white satin bowtie and that was all, she was posed in front of a silver shimmering curtain. She stood legs apart and naked breasts jutting forward; her stance showed her ready to pounce, the look on her face earnest and yearning. Monique was reclining in her centerfold, her body in repose as she tendered the delicious fruits of dark bushy snatch and firm pear shaped breasts. She was wearing a silver jacket opened wide to offer her flesh; her legs, booted in suede, were crooked as if preparing to receive the lover she was offering her exotic come-hither gaze. She twirled her blonde hair in a gesture both playful and regal.

Looking at their centerfolds now, both Playmates gulped. They could sense the Stilt beaming behind them and savoring the vision of the magazine centerfolds joined with the Playmates right here before him.

“I’ve been looking forward to this since I saw those pretty pictures,” he chuckled. And they gasped again when he spun them around to face him. A wide grin on his face gleamed in the dim light. He lifted both hands and stroked each girl on the cheek. The girls watched his eyes and he gazed right back, his confidence trumping their trepidation. His hands caressed over their piled high hair and when he began to undo the expensive coifs, one hand for each girl, it was as intimate as if he was undressing them; in moments their blonde hair tumbled over their shoulders. He continued to caress their faces and he continued to taunt them with his grin. His fingers wandered lightly over their lips and eyes and cheeks; the touch of his huge hands was like the touch of a blind man’s fingers exploring their features, fixing them in his mind. 

Pamela Jean was unsteady; he could hear her breathing. He imagined her lungs filling and emptying, the tender softness of them in their frail cage of glistening white flesh. Her youthful breasts, firm and ripe under the tight fabric of the gown, heaved up and down. Monique stood erect and challenging; her silent gaze was provoking. He saw her firm breasts thrust out, the flawless shape of them straining against the silver gown. She held her breath and watched him carefully.

His huge hands were gentle, graceful in the way only an athlete or dancer can be; his fingers lightly traced over the lips and chin of each girl, then down each girl’s trembling throat. Pamela Jean groaned sweetly as the fingers glided over the deep cleavage revealed by her tight dress; Monique stayed calm, watching the man with her exotic eyes glistening. 

He continued to explore their faces with his hands. Monique, more confident than her younger companion, allowed her tongue to dart out and tease over his fingers, but Pamela’s moist nervous panting was equally seductive. Back and forth he caressed over their faces, throats, and cleavage, each time lingering longer over the sweet breasts pressed together in each girl’s tight dress. He didn’t say a word but his eyes were taunting, promising an epic tussle in the bed. 

Finally he paused, his hands on the bare cleavage of each girl. His fingers hooked into the low neckline of each Playmate and the fingertips seemed to test the tension between the fabric and skin on each girl. 

Without warning, using one hand on each dress he pounced, stripping both girls with one quick jerk of his arms. Both gowns burst into a flash of flying beads and bangles. Both Playmates were abruptly and resplendently nude, their blushing bodies glowing in the soft light.  

"Now, we're having a party," the athlete gloated with satisfaction. His eyes roamed over Monique St. Pierre's regal body. She stood erect, her bare breasts jutting forward, proud and firm. At her feet the remains of her gown gathered in a pile of glittering beads and bangles as if she were standing on sea foam or a star.

Pamela Jean shyly tried to cover her nakedness with her arms over her chest and her legs crossed one in front of the other but the Stilt would have none of that.

"Come on, little girl, show us what you got," he insisted; one hand pushed her arms down while his own arm wrapped around her waist and the momentum of his huge body bent her back, his mouth covering hers, his tongue raping hers. She writhed and moaned but soon her sweet bush was grinding over his crotch as her arms wrapped around his neck.

Finished with her mouth, he began to devour her breasts. His mouth made a wet popping sound when he finally lifted his head from the feast of her flesh. He grinned with self-satisfaction at the girl. Her hair was disheveled in that erotic way a girl’s hair falls into disarray when she’s aroused. Her young face was a torrent of emotions, hot and excited, but worried too, in a twitchy sort of way. He released her waist and she staggered back as if trying to catch her breath. The back of her bare legs touched the edge of the bed. She glanced back at it; her hand went up to her mouth to suppress her scream of shock. 

Her panic amused him. “Sure, we got a bed. You think I was gonna ball you standing up?”

Monique stepped forward and lightly touched his shoulder. “You don’t have to be so crude,” she said in a haughty tone, “Can’t you see she frightened?” Her European accent made her scolding sound seductive and glamorous.

His laugh was lusty and confident. “Hey, what I got is so big she probably should be scared.” Without a thought, he shoved Pamela Jean down onto the bed with one hand while grabbing Monique’s arm with the other.

Monique played rough, pushing and scratching and biting while he pawed her naked body. She growled into his mouth when he caught her lips under his and he had to work to pry her mouth open, but once his massive tongue began fucking into her she began to writhe in his arms and let him fondle her naked breasts and stroke over the dark curls of her pussy. She herself guided his lips and teeth to her eager nipples and she leaned far back on his arm while his mouth greedy gobbled up the deliciously creamy flesh. 

Only when his teeth clamped down hard and cruel onto an erect nipple did she resume her resistance. They struggled a bit, his voice chuckling with amusement and hers sputtering and cursing in three different languages.  Finally he pushed her naked body onto the narrow bed. Pamela scrambled to the headboard and leaned against it, crossing her arms over her bare chest in a futile pose of defense. Monique sat in front of her and both stared in silence as the athlete efficiently peeled off his own clothes. Together they gasped “Oh my god,” when his weapon was revealed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. “I get that a lot. Now let’s lay us some pipe.”

He kneeled in front of Monique and she stared up at him as if hypnotized.

She moved her hand to his face, trailing her fingers across his lips. He allowed his tongue to caress her thumb as she did so. Monique swallowed audibly and touched her tongue to her own lips as she watched him suck her thumb into his mouth. Removing her finger from his mouth, she leaned down and replaced it with her lips. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down gently on it, causing her to grind her body against his and then go still. The lower part of his anatomy was beginning to respond to their play, swelling in readiness for her. Feeling her tense, the Stilt placed both hands at her back and slowly began to move them downward and then up again. He held fast to her lips as he did this. Within moments, she was moving her body against him again, aware that he was growing larger and harder and she was becoming even more turned on by ominous turmoil of his cock. The man stared at her perfect breasts and couldn't help reaching up and cupping them for himself. As his hands touched her flesh she threw her head back and she gasped in anticipation. Monique didn't hesitate to run her fingers down his chest. She loved the feel of him—of the sleek muscles that had come about from his athletic prowess. He pulled her to him and ran his tongue along the side of her neck as his hands worked exquisite torture over her nipples. He felt her surrender. He looked down at her naked breasts, at their round white creaminess and darkened buds. He pushed her against Pamela Jean’s body as the younger girl pressed into the headboard and watched the Stilt and dreaded what she saw; the Stilt covered Monique’s body with his, his mouth attaching to one of her nipples. 

Monique’s back was against Pamela’s chest. Her hips were over the ball player’s and she was balanced there until he lifted her up and pressed her sex onto the head his waiting cock.  The girl’s face was storm of anguish and desire; the pressure of the immense head was unbearable but she burned to feel the huge hard black mass push into the soft petals of her sex.

The pressure of his fierce weapon against her delicate flower was cosmic, the shifting of tectonic plates under continents. And such cosmic displays of power always cause earthquakes. At first the pressure came from the force of the huge mass plunging into the sweet girl; this pressure created an erotic violence as her body trembled like Atlantis about to disappear into the ocean and her fragile body bucked and thrashed and her throat coughed up muted cries of protest. His shaft pushed, in inch-by-inch conquering the girl, but the cosmic pressure shifted into an intensity that could destroy mountains; as the rock hard cock consumed her it itself was consumed by the erotic pressure of her sex as she squeezed around him.

"Oh God—," she started before she gnashed her teeth together and ran her fingers over his hair. He flicked his tongue against her nipple rapidly, causing her to moan in time with the pace he'd set. He moved his head from that breast to pay homage to the other. At the same time his cock, huge and hard and hungry, pushed deeper into her tightness. 

He took his time; he loved this part, the slow push of a massive cock into a tight pussy. He let her squirm and pant but Monique was skilled too and received with eagerness every inch and very pound of the enormous ebony log possessing her. Like two gladiators they worked in conflict and harmony at once; he was grunting and growling his lust and slowly pushing in while savoring the moist heat of her tightness and she was quivering and murmuring her endearments, controlling her agony as his black power conquered her.  Their voices intertwined in a sensual harmony, “Damn girl, you are fine.” “Yes, baby, take me; do me.” “Fuck, you are tight; let me in, girl.” “Ooooh, so big, so hard, do it! Fuck me, come for me, baby.” 

He moved expertly, an unrelenting push deep into her softness. The monster shaft had a genius for caressing every cell of her, drawing arousal from every nerve ending; her pussy was greedy for him but grateful too and it eagerly embraced each throbbing vein of the invading beast. She knew she had to work with precision to taken the full length of his hard cruel cock. It was the Slow Endless Fuck, demanding as much time, focus and energy as the most intense half of a championship basketball game and they played it like champions.

With one final sharp and harsh thrust he completely consumed her; for Monique it was like his cock had filled every centimeter of her body. She let out a scream and then she bit down on her lip and froze, realizing that his body was quaking like an about to explode volcano. His cock still jammed into her tightness, he raised himself on his arms; his eyes turned glassy and his mouth tightened. She could almost feel his huge cock roaring as it unleashed its power into her, a tsunami of white fury pouring into her depths; she writhed like a belly dancer and she accepted his load as a holy rite. Her body pumped against him and squeezed over his roaring throbbing shaft in a desperate effort to draw all of him into her.

By the time he was finished, Monique was so aroused that she actually sighed as he pulled his cock back; he kept the head inside her throbbing sex but rotated his hips so the shaft stirred in her pussy and lifted her to a higher plane of excitement. 

Still raised on his powerful arms, he looked down on her misty face; the electric bliss of his orgasm was still spreading through her. He recovered enough to chortle. “Yeah, that first nut is always fine, ain’t it? I like to get that first pop out right away. Get you all charged up for what’s coming.” As if to emphasize his point, he gave his hips a sharp cruel thrust and rammed his cock down once, then took his time gliding back until the head was all that was still throbbing inside her. “You like my load filling you up,” he boasted with a self-satisfied sneer.

Monique couldn’t help but smile in her ecstasy but the smile quickly turned to an O of shock as he slid his arms under her shoulders and held her tight. “Now, we’re gonna hammer it home!” he gloated and hammer he did, banging his massive shaft in and out of her pulsating body. 

Monique was rattling and tossing like a rag doll; her sweat soaked bare back slapped against Pamela Jean’s breasts and the younger girl tried to hold her up by pressing her own palms against Monique’s shoulders. The black man kept up his pumping and pounding, his face a contorted in lustful victory. She begged and pleaded in a cacophony of German and French and her high pitched shrieks echoed in counterpoint to his lustful growls. The hammering seemed endless but suddenly he paused and smiled and enjoyed the rush of his viscous seed as it gushed once more into the throbbing girl. He leaned forward and raped Pamela Jean’s mouth with his tongue as he came in Monique.

His cock finally withdrew from her sweetness; she mewed dreamily and closed her eyes to savor the heat of the white lava rushing through her still. 

But he wasn’t going anywhere. He'd readied himself, and was settling his weight on her, pale white skin to gleaming black skin. He kissed her again, moving his hand down to part her legs and his fingers to caress her hidden treasure. Monique gasped into his mouth when his finger landed on her pearl, rubbing gently against it until she began to arch against him. He moved his finger further down, soaking it up in the dewy wetness that gathered outside her hot opening then he pushed it into her. She moaned and clenched her muscles around his finger. He groaned already imagining her tightness taking him again. He moved the finger back an inch and then shoved it forward again; his tongue, in her mouth, repeated the same actions. She opened her legs wider, bucking against him, and he circled his thumb over her now engorged button. He removed his finger and replaced it with the real thing, coating the head of his shaft in her slickness. He pushed forward slowly, groaning at the feel of her tight heat as it surrounded him. Monique disengaged from the kiss, turned her head to the side and dragged in a deep breath as he sheathed himself fully in her body. Once he was completely encased in her warmth, he paused and looked down at her. "Shit baby," he said raggedly, leaning his head down and placing a kiss on the cheek upturned to him. She turned her face back to his and lifted her lids. Dazed eyes stared up at him. "You digging my cock, babe?" She nodded her head quickly. He lifted his head and fixed a twinkling grin on Pamela Jean. “She digs it, little playmate. Bet you can’t wait for me to start drilling you.” Pamela Jean gulped.

Downstairs the crowd applauded some speech the Stilt was supposed to be hearing.

Instead he had Pamela Jean, nude and sweating, her back crushed against the head of the bed. Between the young girl’s legs and with her own naked body crushed against Pamela, was Monique. But the new Playmate of the Year was not giving her sister Playmate any attention; instead, Monique’s exotic eyes were staring in disbelief at the monster cock jackhammering into her once again. The basketball player was taunting Pamela Jean still, even as he drilled deeper and deeper into Monique; his eyes gleamed with lust as he growled, “You see what my dick is doing to this girl? Just wait ‘till I start in on you. You’re gonna be getting some real fireworks.”

Monique barked in fury and he turned back to her. “ Look at you. I pop my nut in you a few times you and go crazy. Want my dick all to yourself.” He grinned at Monique and with his eyes fixed on hers he gave her four or five ferociously deep thrusts. She gazed back defiantly even as her mouth opened wide in silent anguish. 

With the head of his shaft vibrating like a rocket at liftoff, he stopped his thrusting and bent his face close to hers. “You want me to pop another nut in you?” He began to move, pulling his hips back before rolling his pelvis against hers. Monique sobbed and gyrated her hips in unison with his.
She closed her eyes as if praying; once more she sensed him quaking like a snowy mountain just before a deadly avalanche. He closed his eyes as if concentrating; once again he stopped pumping and the pressure was immense and splendid. “Oh yeah,” he groaned and Monique suddenly felt her depths filling with flames.

She screamed and thrashed but after he shot a couple of gallons into her he started drilling in again and she whimpered herself into his rhythm.

Monique’s legs, white and smooth, wrapped around his waist as he banged into her. Her arms were around his neck and her chin was tucked into her chest as she gazed on the serious fucking she was experiencing. Her firm nipples stabbed into his chest each time he lunged into her. The Stilt was supporting himself on his arms and he stretched his neck forward so that his hungry mouth could ravage Pamela Jean’s naked nipple. The young girl’s arms were around Monique but her palms were on the Stilt’s shoulders trying to push him back. Pamela Jean was watching the same in and out thrusts of the massive black cock; she was watching with dread and desire.
Monique’s naked body, pale and glistening with sweat, undulated under the black man’s hulking power. She was slender and exotic like a gazelle and her body moved with an animal tension and grace.  The cock deep inside her was agony and she wanted more. He stretched over her, lunging in hard as his mouth devoured the nipple of the helpless girl behind Monique; but Monique wanted all the attention for herself. She bit cruelly into his shoulder, grinding her wet slit against his rigid length, before pulling him deeper inside of her. She placed her hands on his solid chest, and focused on his face as she worked her muscles over him. He met her demands with a fierce plunge that could have been a battering ram.

“Jesus, your cock is too big,” she squealed and he punished her with an even deeper thrust and drew from her a piercing scream.

“You love it,” he chuckled and rammed in again. She did love it, and the fucking was fast now, with pants and groans, and a few shrieks of rage; Monique was in agony but it was worth it. They were both physically perfect: a Playboy Playmate and an athlete. 

And then he slowed it down, expertly balling her into bliss. Her shrieks turned into soft and appreciative murmurs. “Yes baby, yes baby, yes.” They pumped in unison now. They knew how to fuck, they could do that for hours. Slowly. 
It was a luxurious, torturous ride that left the both straining and breathless, but they managed to come together in a moment that was so perfect, she couldn't have thought of anything else to make it better. 

"Oh god," she moaned softly, her finger nails digging into his back. He kept his pace steady, staring down at the way her teeth pulled on her fleshy bottom lip as she took him. He leaned down and attached his lips to hers, drawing her tongue into his mouth and tugging on it. Monique was spent and thought he was too but even as he gushed into her orgasm his cock stiffened and started another rapid piston action. She babbled in an exotic language all her own.

While fucking into Monique, he eyed the terrified Pamela Jean. “You know why they call me the Stilt?” Monique growled for his attention. He lowered his head to her neck, and sucked. He wanted to mark her as his. She moaned under him, lifting her hips for his pummeling thrusts. 
Monique moaned and kissed him back, lifting her hips for his downward thrusts. He increased his pace, moving swiftly in and out the folds of her wetness with ease. She tensed around him and he pulled her leg up, angling himself so that he grazed her love button with every thrust of his body. He felt an urgent spasm that rocked her body and lifted his head immediately to capture her face as she came for him. He ground his hips into hers and paused, before repeating the motion a few more times. Her body clenched him tightly and her eyes flew open; her mouth opened on an O and she began to spasm uncontrollably around him. Feeling her orgasm take her, he let himself go once more, thrusting a few more times before coming apart inside of her.

Pamela Jean gazed in mute horror. The black man chuckled. "I think you're so quiet because you're picturing it already. You picturing my big dick inside your pretty little pussy?" he murmured, finding her lips with his own. Pamela Jean parted her lips for him, and moaned when his tongue slipped inside. "Are you?" "Yes," she responded breathlessly. "Good, because I am just getting warmed up and you’re next." Monique purred again, her body pulsing with ecstasy. The Stilt was shifting his weight; the girls were squirming, both sensing the change, like feral animals recognizing an impending storm. Monique was all moans and mews and misty gazes, too blissed out to resist whatever was coming. The Stilt pulled out of her and turned his attention to the young trembling Miss April.

“Your turn,” he said jovially, stretching over Monique and pulling Pamela forward. The young girl was in shock; at first she bent towards him even as he was nudging Monique’s torso to one side to give himself room. Then she caught sight of his already tumescent shaft and she panicked. His grip was too firm though and he was already tugging her legs down the bed to spread her out for his pleasure. He was meticulous in his work, expertly rearranging his blonde Playmates so that Monique could watch Pamela Jean get fucked. 

Pamela Jean was full of breathy pleas and imprecations, her body trembling as his hands moved her into position. “No, wait, I can’t,” she begged with the whiny voice of a teen trying to negotiate herself out of a grounding. She tried bartering, “Let me suck on it.” She tried demanding, “Stop it!” She tried deferring, “Wait ‘til we get back to the hotel.”  She looked for pity from Monique but found none. She tried drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them but he methodically took control of each limb and slowly spread her out in preparation of his assault.

The young girl was now in the center of the bed, in
prime position for the ravishment to come. Monique was stretched out along side her, resting on her elbow with her head in her palm; as she regained her senses, she was becoming aroused by Pamela Jean’s trepidation.

The Stilt was almost gleeful as he straddled over Pamela Jean’s hips, pinning her to the bed. He laid his shaft on her round belly and the three of them watched it grow to full strength. Pamela Jean was overwhelmed, awed by her own desires. She couldn’t admit it but ever since she learned she had this promotional assignment she had been quaking with anticipation, listening eagerly to the stories from the other Playmates. She started fantasizing about King Kong; she dreamed of furious black stallions.

When all her negotiations failed, Pamela finally submitted to her desires. She bravely lifted her hands to his face, and then ran her fingers over his hair, pulling him closer. "Every time, I look at you, I want you inside of me," she murmured softly, blushing with embarrassment and biting down on her bottom lip at that admission. He chuckled with glee and his shaft grazed over her belly. He bent her head so she could gaze on the beast glaring at her. It seemed to grow even bigger as she watched it.

“God, it’s so big,” she gasped. He jerked his hips and the cock rose and slapped down on the flesh of her belly as if to warn her of its fearful mass. “It’s too big…I can’t.” What she couldn’t explain was that the enormous length and the impossible girth were frightening enough but it was the heft, the weight, the pressure of the hard black thing resting on her soft belly like a fifty-pound dumb bell.

“Sure you can,” he snorted.

“Please, oh no, please don’t,” Pamela Jean sobbed.

“What you mean is please 
don’t wait,” he laughed. He lifted himself on his hips and his cock, zeroing in like a missile, rested over the lips of her pussy. He gave the shaft a few appreciative strokes himself then proceeded to finger her snatch. “Let’s see about getting you fired up.”

She wriggled and writhed, her whimpering body surrendering to the bliss; she was so tight that, if his finger were a dick, it would have ejaculated from the sweet and hot pressure of her sex.  She sobbed over and over again and his hand moved in rhythm with her pulsating body.

“Ooh yeah, baby, you are going to be a good fuck. You ready for me to do you now?”

All she could do in reply was to gasp with ecstasy; his finger continued to drive her to a state of madness and she could barely register the change when the finger withdrew and the head of his shaft poised itself over her the lips of her pussy before he pushed into her. As he held himself still, she whined. His hand cupped her cheek, and he kissed her softly, barely lifting his lips away. The bulbous tip of his cock nudged her clit, and her eyes cried out loudly beneath him and she tried wriggling away. Lowering his head, he kissed her again, stroking her tongue with his own. Reaching down, he drew a finger along her slippery slit, groaning into her mouth as he did so, before positioning himself at her entrance.
Pamela Jean made no sound because sound was impossible. She sent a message with her eyes, however, to the effect that she would like to scream.

Monique held her breath, watching her young friend about to be ravaged. Pamela was silenced by panic. The dark man, with athletic grace and power, moved with irrevocable force; virile and sleek, in silence he conquered her.

Her thighs clutched him tighter. Lifting his head so that he could watch her expression, he rolled his hips forward. She sucked in a breath, and smiled bravely, tilting her pelvis to receive all of him. 

It came in thunderclaps. The head of his cock burst into her softness. Her head snapped back and her mouth opened in a silent scream. "Damn, you—are—so—fucking tight," he murmured to himself, but she heard him anyway. Her body was frozen in panic; his cock pushed in with a galactic force, filling her with his power. He raised himself on his arms and paused to savor the tightness of the young pussy around his glistening onyx shaft

“Oh my god,” Monique murmured with reverent sympathy as she gazed on the girl’s agonized face. She touched the length of his big black cock; while a good portion was planted into the writhing young girl, Monique was able to run her fingers over almost a foot of throbbing vein before her hand brushed over Pamela’s bush.

“Fuck Wilt,” Monique gasped, “You’re huge.”

“Fuck,” Pamela Jean gasped in surrender. “He’s fucking gigantic.”

“Fuck yeah,” the Stilt growled and he rammed in another six inches. Pamela shrieked and her limbs went crazy, pounding the sheets with the flat of her feet and palms of her hands. Her head twisted back and forth, whipping her blonde hair over his face. 

Nothing distracted the Stilt from his labors. With the precision of a neurosurgeon he worked his cock like a scalpel to caress the ecstasy along her moist sweet depths. Even in her violent thrashing Pamela’s body was bursting in bliss. Every inch he put to her raised the level of her agony twofold but the ecstasy rose to even greater heights until the girl was desperate herself to engulf all of him. Her thrashing subsided, replaced by an insistent urging and pleading as her nubile body took him in all the way.

“Oh Stilt, oh god,” she gasped when she could manage to form words. 

Now they were conjoined perfectly, love-slave and master and relishing his role as her doom he started pumping into the panting girl.
Her sweet tightness rewarded him with a throbbing gushing heat over the entirety of his massive cock. "You fuck real good, baby." His hips slid back before pressing forward again, and she gasped, clutching as his back. She nodded, and he pulled back to thrust forward once more. "I love you," she half-cried. 

“Sheeet,” he groaned, pleased with himself. “All the ladies love the Stilt,” he boasted.
Where Monique was lithe and languid, Pamela Jean was easy and curvaceous; Monique’s body was tight and supple, while Pamela Jean’s body was soft and cuddly. 

He fucked her in teasing spurts, thrusting in, pulling out. He stopped, poised over her, his colossal black cock pulsating between the lips of her soft sex. He looked in her eyes and saw her tender lust and her eager surrender.

“Does it feel good?” she purred fervently and she was conquering him now, blessing him with her youthful sexuality.

He groaned, and tightened his hold on her waist. He withdrew almost to the point of pulling out, before thrusting back into the warm and tight cocoon that was her body. Pamela Jean locked an arm about his neck, and another around his back. As his chest pressed down as hers, she closed her eyes, basking in the overload of pleasure. "Sheeet," the Stilt grunted after a particularly powerful thrust that made her dig her nails into his back. 

His lust never strayed; deep in her, it throbbed and ached in sweet agony over her delicious tightness. He’d pull away just when she was about to burst. And she’d thrust up, begging for more. Her eyes were closed and in and out and in and out, deeper and deeper he pumped. A long long time, slow or fast, still deeper and deeper. He fucked her hard and he fucked her soft.

Then her eyes opened wide, then she realized; this was going to be everlasting. His cock was never going to stop drilling her, never be denied; this was everlasting fucking. She needed him to fuck her forever, everlasting fucking, she needed him to fuck her forever, she needed him to fuck her for ever. She opened up herself and let his mammoth cock pump deeper and deeper, everlasting fucking forever, forever, in and out and deeper and harder and faster and everlasting fucking forever, oh fuck, he was fucking her into eternity. The roof of the building exploded and he rammed deep into her, without mercy, everlasting fucking forever and the velocity sent the bed spiraling up to the sky and he fucked her harder, The bed fell away but their naked bodies, black and white, conjoined over his huge dick, their bodies flew even higher; their everlasting fucking forever was the engine propelling them into the galaxy. Stars and planets swirled around their everlasting fucking and she howled and knew she’d be howling forever. This fuck would last forever.

Somewhere, as if from another dimension, she heard Monique’s voice call out “Holy fuck,” and Monique sounded amazed and reverent. Pamela then heard the Stilt growl out, “Holy fuck,” and the Stilt sounded amazed and dazzled.

"Hmm?" she murmured, incapable of stringing together sentences. She opened her eyes and she was still in the bed with Miss November and the Stilt and the Stilt was pumping into her furiously.

“Damn, Pamela, you’ve been screaming for an hour,” Monique gasped in admiration. Pamela’s body was pumping frantically; she was a perpetual fuck-machine. “Wilt, how can you go like that?” Monique said, almost jealous of what Miss April was enduring. "I'm coming," he replied, jabbing his hips against Pamela’s once more. She nodded, licking her lips as her body felt the first tremor that marked her impending orgasm. He repositioned his body to take her nipple into his mouth. His tongue bathed the peak, before his mouth encircled and pulled at it. "Wilt," her voice was breathy. Her hips began a frantic dance against him. The sound of his name on her lips as she peaked sent him over. His fingers dug into her waist as the tendons stood out in his neck. His hips swung freely, rapidly, until a hoarse groan erupted from his lips as his body unloaded inside of her, a gigantic volley, followed by another, followed by even another and she gushed over each one, her ecstasy sweet and wet; she came over and over, everlasting love. He fell onto her, finally spent, a sweaty mass of tangled limbs. As he recovered, he rolled onto his back, and pulled her atop him. She straddled over his hips and her ecstasy was energizing her. The smile on her lips was so contagious that he smiled as well. "I think I might make into the Hall of Fame too," she joked sweetly and she started bouncing up and down on his hips, her arms wrapped over his cock and pressing it over her blonde bush and soft round belly, stoking him back into action. Monique sat up and kissed her deeply; she too began to fondle his cock. 

She turned and gave the Stilt her best sultry look; she showed why she was now Playmate of the Year by lifting her flawless breasts in offering to Pamela’s hungry mouth. “I will be in the Hall of Fame too,” she said in her luscious accent. "I think we all will," was his still breathless reply. 

Hours later, the Stilt wandered out of the room; the banquet was long over and even the janitors had gone home. He found two table clothes to drape over his exhausted, naked Playmates and he guided them out of the bed and down the stairs. Slowly they staggered back to the limo in a mirror image of their earlier progress into the hall but now there were no cameras, no crowds, no red carpet. Their bravado was spent and they crawled into the back seat with groans and muscle aches but then Pamela’s breast accidently brushed over the Stilts crotch and he began to swell. 

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, knowing what was coming.

 


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