Already Sherry was teasing Tony's sleeping giant to wakefulness and it was responding as though it hid not received stimulation in months. "You're amazing, Tony," Sherry said, now fondling an unbelievably firm erection between her hands. Tony was licking and sucking at her nipples and gliding his palm gently over her pubic mound and stomach and inner thighs. When he dipped his finger ever-so-lightly into the top of her pussy he felt her sopping wet snatch. "You're amazing, too," he said.
"I guess we were just meant for each other," Sherry said. She squeezed his organ hard in her hand. "This and that thing of mine have wills of their own. Oh, Tony…"
"Yes, my darling?"
"Fuck me, my love? Fuck my cunt with your incredible and magnificent cock. Just plain fucking. Nothing fancy. Just your prick sticking way up in my cunt, all right?"
"All right. I feel the same way. I just want to fuck your lovely cunt and hold your ass in my hands."
Sherry scooted sideways as Tony raised himself up and it was though one universal will moved them in perfect synchronization to the mating position. Their lips pressed tight together, tongues lapping together, their genitals came into natural contact. Tony inched the head of his cock into place, pressing steadily at the drenched entrance of Sherry's channel and slowly Sherry felt her vaginal walls filled as they had never been filled before. And then when it was entirely in, she knew what it was like to be plugged to capacity. There was no space at all left over within her vagina and even beyond and when Tony moved even the slightest it was as though the entire insides were receiving a simultaneous massage.
"Oh, baby," Tony whispered, "it's so tight and hot in there."
At first the tempo was slow, testing, savoring, without haste or fury or desperation. Both of them merely writhed sideways on the bed letting the natural motion of their bodies bring tingling, nearly unbearable sensations to their genitals. Slowly the vertical motion began, too, the transition from mere feeling to actual fucking. And the slick, wet smacking sounds rose in intensity as the bedsprings creaked and the babbling pleas of lovers filled the room.
Neither was conscious of effort but their bodies were bathed in perspiration as they hurtled onward, the deep male grunts rising rhythmically to the accompaniment of the breath-whines of the all-receiving, high-pitched urgings of the female spurring her lover on to maximum performance.
Sherry felt – no, knew – that no man would ever duplicate the feeling of absolute passivity, nor fill her as she was now being filled and jabbed until, oh God, she was screaming uncontrollably not caring who heard, nobody, anywhere – screaming from somewhere she had never known existed in her body.
It was a long time before she realized they had finished. Her teeth were sunk deep into her lover's throat and his motion, too, had stopped.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was slightly past 11 a.m. when Sherry awoke. She was sobbing and only vaguely aware of the reason. Then, slowly she remembered her dream. She lay there recalling the details, conscious that her father was not in bed beside her. She could hear him rustling about in the kitchen, humming softly to himself. He was obviously in a happy mood. She had dreamed that she was old and fat and untalented. Tony Agnello had laughed when she had suggested they run away and get married. And her father had abandoned her and found a new young singer to manage – one with a decent voice. Why had she dreamed such garbage? Was it because she had sneaked the love session yesterday with Tony, felt guilty about cheating on her father who had been her confidant, lover, and patient advisor ever since she could remember? Yes, she had been cruel to Daddy, she decided, wiping away her tears. She would have to make it up to him some way. But what was she to do about Tony?
Tony Agnello was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened in her life and he genuinely cared for her, she could tell. Last night they had watched each other's performances in admiration and they probably would have spent the night together if she hadn't told him she had a few personal matters to straighten out and to be patient. They would be together again in a few days, she had explained.
Victor Redgrave emerged from the kitchen, beaming and carrying two cups. "It's just instant coffee," he said, "but I thought my lovely daughter might like some to greet the morning with." He set the cups down on the nightstand, went to the window and opened the drapes with a flourish. The sunlight streamed in, filling the room. It was a beautiful sunny day and Sherry could see the deep green of the trees and the cloudless blue sky. Daddy's mood puzzled her. The night before last had been a failure sexually and, last night, there had been no attempt at all at physical intimacy. It was some kind of record.