His penis stood proud as a flagpole, the head rubicund and gleaming. Thick veins knotted themselves along its rigid length. Beneath she could see two hairy balls.

“Oh! Mr. Rumple! Indeed, you mustn't. Oh!”

“It is most necessary, Pamela,” Horace breathed heavily. Lowering himself rapidly, he gave Pamela no time to adjust the position of her legs which her posture had brought wide open. With a little shriek, she received him on her belly and felt his thick drumstick beating a rhythm against her silky skin.

“Wh… wh… what are you doing?”

“Injecting you, my sweet. 'Us very necessary for your long journey. Let me cup your bottom and raise it a little. Ah! what plumpness-what divine cheeks! Can you feel it, Pamela?”

Crushed beneath him, Pamela knew not whether to wrestle or submit. The crest of his charger had slipped backward as he drew her hips up slightly and now it nestled menacingly at the soft entrance to her dell.

“Yes!” Pamela gasped. “I can feel it-but you can't… no, you mustn't… oh, it's going in… Ah!”

Pent up as he was, Horace almost spilled his manly juices in his excitement. Even Mrs. Rumple in her distant youth had never been so sinuous and curved as this, nor so infinitely enticing. As the lips of Pamela's quim yielded, he groaned. She was going to be damned tight, but the journey within would make all worth it. Feeling her fingers clutch protectively at his shoulders, Horace urged his cock as slowly as he could.

Pamela held her breath. It seemed such a monster, but its head was lovely and smooth and the manly grip of his fingers beneath her bottom excited her. Her breath puffed out-too long withheld-as the stiff rod inserted itself three inches and then stayed for a moment. The velvety walls of her slit clung to it. She could feel it throbbing madly.