Page 38 of Sure as Shooting

“Whit,” Belle said in awe.

Whit grinned at her casually, as though he were merely out on a lark shooting squirrels and not getting fucked up the anus like a deviant sodomite.

And it roused Belle to untold heights of lust. It was true—Europeans certainly had different and interesting ways of doing things, and this was a trick that could only have been learned in Europe. But how could she participate? She could suck—

“Climb aboard, Miss Belle.” Whit hitched his chin to indicate she should…what? What was he referring to? What was she supposed to—Grabbing her by the arms, Whit lifted her so she straddled him as well, the wet mush of her pussy mashing up against the underside of his massive cock. Oh, Dear Lord. Did he mean to fuck her with that thing? Belle boldly bucked her hips up and down across the enormous pole.

“You fill me with awe and envy,” Whit said, his gaze fixated on her face.

She recognized that as a translation from her pillow book. Whit must have found some willing riceman miner to translate the book for him. That he had the intellectual curiosity to accomplish this sent a rush of pride through Belle, and she grabbed his cock at the base to point it toward her pussy. She struggled to remember other lines from the book. “Even though you know this is wicked of you.” With a grunt and much eye-rolling, she impaled herself on the mammoth penis.

She had never been filled like this before, and she found she had to relax, to allow the walls of her cunt to expand to accommodate him. Soon she was vaulting herself up and down around the giant appendage.

Whit said, “But I suppose this dream of mine is rather absurd.”

Belle discovered if she merely hovered with her pussy enclosing Whit’s cock, the jouncing Huntley was giving him from behind set up a rhythm. In tandem the two men fucked her. All she had to do was grip Whit’s shoulders and squat over him in order to be reamed like a salacious prostitute. “Only you can see what feelings hide within my heart.”

Whit’s eyes sparkled. “Now I can tell what she is really like.”

“Oh, by Saint Michael!” Huntley growled. “Will you stop it with your asinine poetry and just let me—Ah!”

Belle knew by his strangled cry that Huntley was coming, one naked arm clutching Whit’s chest. She could feel his pelvis shuddering all the way into her womb, and this set off a reaction in Whit. The sensation of Huntley erupting inside his asshole must have been sublime, for now Belle felt Whit’s cock jerk and twitch inside of her, and she sank down onto the prick with many short and urgent strokes designed to milk him to the utmost.

Whit came with a great shuddering inside of her, his semen splashing against her womb. Belle didn’t mind not having found a sponge to soak it up. It was enough to feel him surrender inside of her, knowing that Whit trusted both her and Huntley enough to make himself so vulnerable.

When she felt she had fully expended him, Belle softly kissed his shapely lips.

Whit said, “I love you, Miss Belle.”