Eunice Graham and Madge Winthrop were responsible for the sexual education of Gail Beckwyth. She would have never guessed that these two matronly ladies would have introduced her to the delights of the flesh.
As they began to strip their bodies of clothes and thrust their crotches out to the man on the floor, Gail began to desire sexual intercourse. She had never done such a thing before, for she had been raised in a proper home. Her aunt had entrusted her with these two women, thinking that her niece would have gotten a proper upbringing, and she would have never thought that they would introduce her to such things.
From the time that Gail beheld the bizarre orgy of flesh, until she experienced her first sexual encounter she was torn between being good and having pleasure. Was this thing good, was sex really that much fun?
It seemed to her that she should take advantage of her young voluptuous body and go out and have a good time, but every time she thought about such things, there was a twinge of guilt that restrained her.
It just didn't seem like the right thing to do, but there came a time when she could no longer hold herself back. She had been taught that one did not experience sex until the first glorious night of the marriage, but they just had to be wrong.
Eunice Graham had a different approach to life. She wanted to have all the pleasure that she could. She was married to a very wealthy man, but that was about his only attribute. Sexually he was about as exciting as a stale piece of toast.
There were things and men for Eunice to do and she wasn't going to let her marriage get in the way. Madge Winthrop felt the same way and the two of them had formed a small alliance to enjoy the pleasures of sex, and to introduce others to it, such as Gail.
Gail was to learn many things during her stay with the two women and each thing that she learned seemed to arouse her interest in sex some more.
Reader a treat is in store for you!
CHAPTER ONE
It was going to be just one of those days for the man, and he wasn't even aware of it. He had to deliver something to one of the richer clients on his routes. The minute he opened the door and walked in he should have sensed something, but he didn't. Had he known what was going to happen, he might have stayed out of the place.
Suddenly an arm, which belonged to Eunice Graham, flung about his neck, which drove him off balance and sent him reeling to the floor.
Then Madge Winthrop ripped open his pants excitedly trying to get to his cock. The two women were fast upon him, while Gail Beckwyth capered about on the fringe of the action. She wanted to do something but didn't know what to do.
The messenger cried out, "What the hell-" but was never able to finish for his mouth was suddenly stuffed with Eunice's sopping panties. His words were now muffled and nothing but vague gasps could be heard. Madge bound his feet with his own pants, exposing his package of cock flesh. The wrinkled balls sagged and the prick surged upward.
Eunice ordered Gail to tie the man's flailing hands with her pantyhose. Gail was eager to obey. She reached down beneath her tight miniskirt and pulled her hose down and began to tie the man's hands behind his back. She moved clumsily, but rather effectively. Even in his confusion, the messenger could not help darting a wide-eyed glance of admiration at the bare thighs and lustrous tangle of silken-fibered pussy hair that flashed for a moment as Gail skimmed down her hose. Her tight, teenage pussy was a wet, rosy slit, nearly lost in the luxurious splurge of light-brown cunt foliage.
The scene was altogether inappropriate for its setting. The elegant, cream-toned paneling, Aubusson rugs, and silk-upholstered furniture of Madge Winthrop's Fifth Avenue apartment in the most exclusive section of Manhattan's upper East Side seemed the last place in the world where a man would have to fear physical attack. And yet, incredibly enough, it was happening.
The messenger still could not quite believe it. He blinked his eyes. Yes, there they were-three sleek, fashionably-attired society beauties-binding him, gagging him, popping his buttons and rending his clothes in their eagerness to expose his most private parts!
The manager had warned him to be careful. Mr. Michel himself-proprietor of New York's oldest, most prestigious firm of jewelers-had personally entrusted the tissue-wrapped box to the messenger's hands.
"It's a birthday present to Mrs. Winthrop from her husband. The pears are worth a quarter of a million. Belonged to the last French Empress. So be careful!"
And he had been careful. Of thieves, muggers, sidewalk ruffians. But who could have expected trouble from Mrs. Winthrop and her friends?
Uggh! The woman who had jammed her panties into his mouth must have been playing with herself a long time before she removed them, he reflected dazedly. The thick, clinging taste of pussy juice was overpoweringly strong. And the scent nearly overwhelmed his nostrils. The panties were positively sopping with syrupy wetness before they were crammed between his lips.
It was the merest ease for the three women to wrestle the man to the carpet. He lay there now, gagged and bound, his eyes flickering worriedly from one lovely, impassioned face to the next.
What would happen now? He was not long in finding out. Eunice Graham squatted the magnificent rotundity of her full-fleshed ass onto the man's face. A sigh of intense satisfaction escaped her as she ground her moist, fragrant orifices against his nose, his chin, his mouth.
"Shit," she murmured as she wriggled atop his face. "I'm so glad Michel's messenger has a long nose. Ooooh, girls, you should try this! There's nothing like having a long, cold nose up your cunt. It's delicious! like the appetizer before the main course."
Actually, the whole thing had been Eunice's idea to begin with. And the messenger wasn't the first male the women had attacked, enticed, or otherwise exploited. Nor would he be the last.
Eunice Graham had broached the idea several weeks before. She and her friend Madge had been conversing over cocktails in Eunice's Park Avenue apartment one afternoon. They had been discussing the general boring predicament of upper-class wives in New York somewhat listlessly.
"Damn!" Eunice declared in disgusted tones as she sipped her martini apathetically, "if I had ever realized what a fucking bore marriage with Henry was going to be, I'd have told him to take his millions somewhere else. All right, he's rich. So what? Lots of men are rich. Maybe not as rich as Henry, but rich enough. The real trouble with Henry is that he's just too frigging old, that's what it comes down to. All right, I'm not exactly a kid myself. I'm thirty-four. Henry is a lot closer to sixty than he'll ever admit. That's a big difference. His idea of a wild orgy is to kiss my breasts a couple of time, climb aboard me, politely plow me for five minutes, then doze off. Some trip, huh?"
Eunice's pretty lips curled in disgust as she spoke. As she crossed her sinuously-curved legs, Madge caught a glimpse of white satiny thigh above her stocking tops that contrasted excitingly with the little nest of coal-black pussy hair that cuddled between them. So Eunice is thirty-four, she mused. I just hope to heaven I look that good when I'm thirty-four.
Madge was politely envious of her friend. Although Madge had a considerable edge in terms of years-she was only twenty-three-she wished devoutly that she had been blessed with Eunice's voluptuous, full-blown figure. Eunice's body was a rich landscape of breathtaking, roller-coaster-ish curves that no man had ever yet skidded along without losing a portion of his sanity somewhere along the way. Even Henry, stuffy as he undeniably was, had lost about fifty percent of his starch under Eunice's incessant, lascivious prodding.
Madge's body, on the other hand, was knife blade-slim. Her breasts were peculiarly shaped, tubular in contour, like enormous, firm-fleshed salamis that hung nearly to her waist. When erect, her nipples were nearly an inch long. In the first weeks of her marriage to
Carlton Winthrop, he had repeatedly choked himself into something bordering on suffocation as he attempted to squeeze an entire luscious breast into his mouth and down his throat.
After a while, Madge had lost patience. One night she blurted, "Shit, Carlton, you may as well face up to the fact-you'll never be able to eat one of my boobs whole! I simply can't have you turning blue in the face every night of the week. Why don't you fuck my tits instead? That way we'll both get some satisfaction!"
This arrangement turned out to be much more practical. Carlton Winthrop took a peculiar delight in screwing his wife's gigantic, meaty blobs, and Madge loved the sudden spatter of Carlton's come against her chin and neck.
That was in the early days of the marriage, however. Since Carlton set his sights on becoming the first self-made millionaire in his family, his usefulness in bed had rapidly diminished. He had long since gained his goal, but his zeal for work had not diminished one iota. Night after night he crawled into bed alongside Madge, entirely worn out from the exertion of driving his account executives to the breaking point, developing new business ideas, and entertaining clients.
So, as the women sat there that afternoon, drinking and complaining, a pact slowly took shape between them. They had observed that most other wealthy wives had the same complaint. As Eunice declared, "Rich men are just not where it's at when it comes to getting it between the legs every night. They've got tired blood, or something!"
The two women made a solemn vow that from that day on they would take cock wherever they could find it. They would seek it in the lowest social stratum if need be. Among truck drivers, ditch diggers, handymen, even tramps, if need be. The only criterion would be the man's ability to get it up fast, to keep it up, and then get it up again in a hurry.
That very evening, Madge and Eunice had made a little slumming tour of Manhattan. They had gone into bars along the waterfront, poked into dark Chinatown alleys, circulated among fantastically-garbed throngs in Greenwich Village. Eunice was the first one to act. Suddenly, on a dimly-lit side street on Manhattan's upper West Side, without saying a word to her companion, Eunice had left Madge's side and accosted a perfect stranger who was lounging on the stoop of an old brownstone. There had been a few words of muttered conversation, then Eunice had calmly leaned over, placed her hands flat against the brownstone wall and planted her legs firmly apart. The stranger stepped up briskly behind her, raised her skirt, yanked her panties down just far enough for his stabbing cock to lunge between her legs and proceeded to dispense something like twenty minutes of hot, steaming, cursing fucking into Eunice's exquisite, willing body.
Her slurping cunt seemed literally to inhale the man's turgid cock, to take it in, press it, squeeze it, maul it in the steam roller of her frenzied pussy lips, to inundate it and deluge it with wave after wave of warmly-aromatic pussy juice, and then, by some mysterious suction, to yank the custardy sperm from the depths of his churning balls and cause it to geyser inside her guts in spurt after heaving spurt!
Madge had looked on, speechless. She was shocked and shaken to her very core by her friend's rashness. At the same time, she could feel her own twat crawling with the little worms of imperious lust. When Eunice had parted from the stranger and the two women were once more alone, Madge remarked ironically, "I pity the next girl that comes along. You didn't leave him much, did you?"
"Put your hand between my legs," Eunice grinned, raising her skirt above her crotch. "Go ahead, feel me."
Madge did so. She gasped. Eunice's whole crotch was drowning in sticky-scummy sperm. It was oozing from her orifice and bathing her thighs as far as the knees. "Henry could never come like that," Eunice laughed, baring her teeth. "Poor Henry! He throws half a dozen drops of semen and worries for fear he may be overdoing it. He keeps accusing me of sucking him dry!"
The women walked along, arm in arm, reveling in their new-found freedom. Madge wasn't slow in following her friend's example. Several blocks further to the south she astonished the black operator of an open-air parking lot by simply walking into his little booth, taking his hand and pressing it up under her dress, against her naked cunt. The black led her to a space between two cars at the back of the lot, and sprawling on his back, allowed Madge to ride him like a horse. Madge went at it very slow and easy, purposely drawing out her pleasure, extracting every last ounce of enjoyment from the virile slab of meat that teased in and out of her honey hole with such authority.
She sat astride his hips, facing away from him, so that the man might have the pleasure of watching her hair-bordered cunt lips suck at his wet, gleaming ebony stick each time she heaved her ass aloft, then retract within her as she lowered her hips again. When he finally came, it was not in successive spurts, but in a continuous fire hose stream that did little to cool the coals of her lust beyond the momentary sensation of orgasm. She let it gush inside her. Then, when she felt the smashing stream die to a gentle oozing, she abruptly yanked the throbbing tool from her pussy with a suddenness that made the man flinch. Cuddling it to her cheek, she soothed and fondled it like a baby until the tension and leftover soreness had evaporated from the organ. Then, working intently with her lips and fingertips, she coaxed it back to life once, more, this time receiving the full charge of his massive eruption on her tongue.
Smiling, the black man reached up and touched her face. "How was it?" he asked. "How did it taste?"
Madge poised her face over his. Positioning her lips about twelve inches above his, she slowly curled them back, allowing the gluey mixture of spit and sperm to drool languorously into the man's open mouth. "Taste "it for yourself," was her rejoinder. Then, rising, she settled her skirt decorously about her hips, and returned to Eunice who awaited her just outside, on the sidewalk.
Gail Beckwyth hadn't come on the scene until considerably later, until Eunice and Madge had a record of many escapades behind them. Gail was only nineteen. She had been a freshman at Wellesley when Madge was a senior. Surprisingly, a friendship had rapidly developed between the two girls in spite of the four-year difference in their ages. Even more surprisingly, it had endured even after Madge's graduation and subsequent marriage.
Gail was enormously wealthy too ... on paper. As the sole heiress to the huge Beckwyth cereals fortune, she stood to come into something like two hundred million dollars on her twenty-first birthday. Meanwhile, at the strict stipulation of her late father, Clarence Beckwyth, the trustee for the estate, a crusty old attorney named Sealey, doled out five hundred dollars a month for living expenses. This did not, of course, include such matters as rent and education, which were provided for under separate stipulations of the will.
How glad Gail would be when she had college behind her and a whole glamorous, exciting world would be hers to command! But that was still nearly two years away. Right now, she was glad to settle for a summer vacation in New York where she could be near the things she loved-the discotheques, the art galleries, the exclusive little world of the powerful, the talented, and the beautiful that centers on New York.
Gail had long had a hunch that Madge was rather far out in her sexual tastes. But not until she'd joined Madge and Eunice for lunch that afternoon had she had the slightest idea that rape was included among them! When the two older women had first broached their plan to fuck the next man they saw, Gail had demurred.
"How do you know who it might be?" she objected. "It could be someone filthy and horrible. I have no objection to a sexual adventure now and then. In fact, I rather like the idea! But I prefer to be a little selective-"
It was at that very moment that the doorbell had rung, signaling the arrival of the messenger from Michel's. He wasn't filthy and horrible at all. He was rather a mousy man in his early forties. He reminded Gail somewhat of an instructor at college that she'd had a crush on during her freshman year. And when she saw his dick flop out of his torn zipper, her queasiness dropped from her like a mask and she was as avid for the game as the others.
While Eunice was ruthlessly mashing the great, hairy gorge of her cunt into the messenger's face, Madge was swiftly rousing his cock to full attention. Her face glowed with anticipation as she vigorously jerked the flaccid rod with her fingers. While she jerked him with one hand, the other was industriously pinching, churning, and waggling his balls. In no time at all the limp, worm-like little tool grew firm and rubbery and took on a fresh, ruddy complexion.
Gail stood by open-mouthed in amazement as she noted what Madge's firm ministrations could accomplish. Gail wasn't a virgin, but her two encounters with sex thus far had occurred in the pitch blackness of a boy's dormitory room. Darkness and timidity had conspired to rob her of all but the most rudimentary knowledge of what actually happened when a man acquired an erection. She was truly astonished to see how so tiny a thing could grow to such huge dimensions. Goodness, she thought, is that what that boy stuck into me?
Her next thought was, how nice it would be to have her cunt invaded once more by a warm, firm prong of living flesh instead of the cold plastic vibrator she'd been using almost nightly for the last few weeks. As Madge slowly impaled her twat on the man's straining, erect pole, Gail cried, "Oh Madge, please hurry! I'm dying for a fuck, I really am! Please, can I be next?"
Hearing this, Eunice turned her head to say, "Why don't you let lover boy here finger-fuck you while you're waiting?" Ramming her knee viciously into the man's head, she snarled, "Stick a couple of your fingers up my friend's cunt and do a good job of it or I'll piss in your face!"
So, while Eunice continued to take her pleasure in masturbating herself against the messenger's face, and Madge made the man's sword slash and harry its way into the darkest, most mysterious recesses of her treasure-cave, Gail kneeled beside him, her legs spread and guided his fingers into her honey pot. He no sooner placed his fingertips tentatively on the outer lips, than the honey began to ooze unrestrainedly forth.
It wasn't as good as a real screw, but it was a hundred times better than the vibrator. Pushing her dress nearly tjo neck level, Gail commenced to caress her nipples while her hips kept time to the insistent, plunging rhythm of the male fingers. "Oh shit ... shit," she murmured, bucking her hips forward. "This feels good! Now hold your fingers rigid. Hold them steady. Don't move them. I want to fuck your hand. I want to fuck the living shit out of it!" Her eyes clamped tightly shut, Gail bared her teeth as she wallowed in erotic luxury, rotating her hips in tiny circles about the man's fingers, now making them diddle the outermost portals of her cavern, now forcing them to perform their duty in the holiest, swampiest depths of her pleasure tunnel.
"Oh shit, shit!" she murmured. Only she could come this way. Suddenly, it was over. She felt the man's hand go limp inside her box. She saw his legs shudder, then go slack. "Hey, what the fuck's going on here?" she cried, dismayed. "I want some more!"
Madge rose from her squatting position. She clutched her pussy in remembered ecstasy, moaning. "Oh, that was a good screw!" She mauled her juice-oozing pussy for a moment. "Shit, it was like having a steel spring vibrating inside your twat!" She nudged the messenger's inert form. "How do you make it jiggle and hum inside a lady's cunt like that?" she demanded to know, yanking the panties from his mouth.
"Never mind!" Eunice cut in imperiously, "that's past history. The important thing is, how he's going to make it jiggle and hum inside my little slit. It's my turn now!"
The man turned dull, lifeless eyes on her. "It's nobody's turn now," came his hoarsely whispered comment. "I'm fucked out. I can't handle no more!"
"Shit you can't!" Eunice hollered, nudging the man's ribs cruelly with the pointy toe of her patent leather shoe. "You can't stop at one. What kind of a man are you anyway?" She was peeling out of her dress as she spoke. As usual, she was entirely bare underneath. As the man's eyes roved hungrily over the white lushness of her curves, the explosion of black hair between her legs, the arrogant pout of the brick red, brick-hard nipples that adorned the two cups of wriggling custard that constituted her breasts, his shrunken cock gave a dying twitch. But that was all.
"What do you mean, I can't stop at one?" he croaked. "I already been fucked twice today."
"What!" the comment erupted from the three women with a single voice.
"Yeah," the messenger reiterated wanly. "I put the chocks to Mrs. de Peyster when I delivered the diamond earrings to her this morning. What a lay that was! The woman is a maniac, I tell you. And then afterwards, when I took the emerald clips to Mrs. Larrabee, she insisted on sucking me off. It was some morning, I tell you! What the hell's going on anyway? It looks like the whole world wants to ball the messenger from Michel's!"
"Well," Eunice sighed. Her eyes sought out those of the other women. None could think of a thing to say. They untied him.
The man slowly, painfully rose to his feet. He buttoned his shirt and adjusted his jacket. He had only slight success in returning his flaccid cock within the ripped fly of his pants. "One thing about those other ladies," he went on in grieved tones, "at least they were polite. They were nice enough to ask me if I'd ball them or let myself be frenched. They didn't grab me and knock me down and tear my uniform!" He gazed down woefully at his mutilated trousers. "Just tell me one thing, how am I going to explain the condition of my uniform when I get back to the store? That's all I want to know!"
"All right, all right," Madge snapped irritably, "Let's pot make such a big thing of it, shall we? You're free to leave any time you want to. Go ahead, pick up your hat and get out!"
"Not so fast," the man replied haughtily. "Where's my package?"
"Oh shit, yes, the pearls," Madge groaned. "Where are they? Anybody see them?" It was Gail who finally found them, where they had been kicked beneath the stereo console in the confusion.
The messenger took them from Gail's hands and gravely handed the tissue-wrapped package to Madge. "Thank you," Madge said dryly, "now please go!"
"Not yet!" the messenger insisted. He placed his cap on his head. Then, remembering his place, he removed it and tucked it beneath one arm. "I have been instructed to sing a little song," he declared. And with that he began:
"Happy birthday to you...."
"Oh, shit," Madge muttered, rolling her eyes heavenward.
"Happy birthday to you. ... "
At this point, the man's cock flopped ludicrously out of his torn fly and hung there, swinging. A single drop of crystalline sperm glittered at the tip.
"Happy birthday, dear Ma-aadge. ... "
Eunice impudently took the pearly drop on the tip of her little finger and popped it into her mouth.
"Happy birthday to youuuu ... " And with that the man scooped his penis back inside his ravaged pants and, drawing himself erect with all the dignity he could muster, marched out of the room.
All three women dissolved into laughter at once. "Shit, what a caper this has been!" Madge cried, rolling helplessly on the floor in her merriment. Finally, she remembered her present. She unwrapped it, held the pearls up for her friends to admire, then, on an impish impulse, she began to stuff the entire quarter-million-dollar strand up her vagina. A look of intense ecstasy suffused her features as she slowly pulled it out again, a fraction of an inch at a time.
"Oooh, that feels good," she breathed, as the wet, irridescent pearls popped out of her pussy one by one. "You girls ought to try this some time. But remember, the pearls have to be from Michel's."
There was another burst of giggles from the group. Then Eunice said, "Make us a drink, will you, Madge? I could certainly use one."
The women seemed entirely relaxed and cheerful as they sat over their drinks and conversed. But Eunice's eyes constantly sought Gail's. Each knew the other shared her thought: It's all right for Madge to laugh it up. She had her kicks. But how about us? We've still got hot pants. And not a man in sight.
Eunice could still taste the saltiness of the single drop of sperm on her tongue. That was just the appetizer, she thought. Now I'm ready for the full meal!
CHAPTER TWO
The huge lethal black automobile glided in and out of traffic as if it were covered with grease. There were times when it ruthlessly shouldered lesser cars as it moved ever onward. Eunice was driving north away from the city. She glanced at her lit dashboard and then moved her eyes about as she continued to survey the traffic.
Now she reached down into her purse and extracted a pack of cigarettes. She pulled one out and voluptuously slid it between her moist lips. She moved the cigarette back and forth in mock imitation of fucking. Every thought, every action, seemed to be one of sex that night.
She grabbed the lighter and brought it to the end of the cigarette. After a few deep puffs, the cigarette was smoking. She took deep nervous drags on the cigarette and thought about her burning cunt. She was very aroused and wanted to get fucked. There was only one man that she could turn to now and that was Turk. Turk and his fire hose cock. That was the way that she thought of him.
Fuck, his dick was as big as a fire hose and made for quenching passionate flames. She moved her hand down to her poozle and rubbed. There was a surge of arousal as she did so. She wanted to have that cock of Turk's in her more than anything else.
As she expertly drove, her thoughts returned to the first meeting with Turk. It had been after her decision to find real studs and her search had taken her around much of New York. She had gone from Broadway, to the East Village, to Harlem, and all in search of studs.
She hadn't seen anything that exactly suited her imagine. She began to drive aimlessly, without thought as to destination or direction. Once or twice she pulled up outside a bar, started to get out, then thought better of it and drove on. Finally she realized she had driven much further northwards than she cared to be. She was in a bleak, dingy neighborhood of factories and warehouses ... it didn't even look like any part of New York City that she could recognize.
No action here, certainly! But how the hell did she get back to Manhattan from here? She was hopelessly turned around. She maneuvered the Caddy through one narrow, black street after another, seeking a pedestrian of whom she could ask directions. Not a soul.
Finally, she saw something-a flicker of red and green neon in the gloom ahead. It was a bar, the only sign of life within blocks. Eunice eased the car to the curb, got out, and went inside.
As soon as she saw what was standing behind the bar, Eunice's heart turned to ice. She was afraid. She knew this was what she had been searching for all evening. And yet ... shit, what a monster! The man must have been six feet five. He had the build of a longshoreman and the features of the younger Marlon Brando. A little coarser, perhaps, yet the same superbly chiseled nose and brow. And the same air of imperturbable arrogance.
Eunice's question emerged as an incoherent stammer. She tried twice, then gave up. Plumping her shapely ass onto the nearest bar stool, she said simply, "A very dry martini on the rocks, please. With a twist of lemon."
The man regarded her with sardonic unbelief. "I got beer," he said. "Or I can make you a rye-and-ginger. But I don't fool around with imagine mixed drinks. I haven't got time."
Eunice gazed around her. The place was completely deserted, except for a young woman-she might have been eighteen-at the far end of the bar. "What do you mean, you don't have time?" she wanted to know. "This place isn't exactly jumping."
The man leaned back against the cash register. He folded his arms and stared at her coolly. "Let's just say, I can't be bothered. Okay? Does that make it clearer?"
Eunice shrugged. "Rye and ginger, then," she said. The drink slopped over the top as he served it, but Eunice tasted it without comment. After a moment's contemplation, she ventured, "How do you manage to keep open in a neighborhood like this? I mean, what do you do for customers?"
"We get 'em," the man grunted. "This is an early place. We get the factory trade right after work. Between five and seven I couldn't fit you in with a shoehorn. After that, it tapers off. I close early. About half an hour from now." Eunice could not take her eyes off the smooth-rippling muscles that fluttered beneath the man's hide with even the most casual movement. He was hairy, too. A great bunch of coarse black hair stood out at the neck of his shirt. She was willing to bet his thighs were shaggy as a gorilla's. A hairy ass, too, she thought. She liked a well-muscled, hairy ass.
There was an interruption. A middle-aged man entered the bar, downed a quick highball, then, spoke a word to the young girl at the far end of the room. They went out through a side door and Eunice heard them ascend the stairs to an overhead room. That made things a little clearer. She could understand now why this place was such a mecca for the factory workers nearby.
Eunice's eyes roved back to the barkeep's great, slabby arms. The entire bicep of the right arm was covered with an extremely ornate tattoo in three different colors of ink-red, green, and blue. It appeared to be some kind of dragon or sea monster.
The barkeep noted her attention. "Like it?" he asked, flexing the bicep. His action made the bat wings on the monster appear to flutter.
"I like it very much," she declared. "It's very interesting ... very colorful. Are you-are you tattooed anywhere else on your body? I mean, like on your chest or someplace like that?"
The barkeep's face did not change expression as he said, "I'm tattooed on my ass. Same artist that did my arm. Singapore. Fifteen years ago. Guy's dead now."
There was a silence. Then Eunice said, "I'd like to see it, I really would. I mean, I was an art major in college. I take an interest in such things."
The man calmly loosened his belt, turned his back on her, and dropped his pants. Just as she suspected-he had a nice pelt of crisp, curly hair on his muscular ass. But beneath the pelt, the tattoos were clearly apparent. On one buttock, a mermaid. On the other, King Neptune. All in livid shades of red, green and yellow. The mermaid was depected as playing with herself.
"Oh, isn't that fantastic!" Eunice chortled. "I-I really would enjoy a closer look! May I?"
"Sure," the man rejoined negligently. "You can come behind the bar, if you like."
Eunice didn't lose any time following his suggestion. She stepped behind the bar and knelt down. Passing her fingertips lightly over his ass-cheeks, she said, "The colors are just beautiful. I like what the mermaid is doing to herself. It's so-so naturalistic!"
"My prick is tattooed also," the barkeep declared. "Would you like to see it?"
"OOooh!" Eunice squealed, "may I? I've never heard of a man being decorated on his prick before! I'll bet its wild!"
The man spun on his heel. His cock whirled out as he turned, nearly grazing Eunice's face. She sucked her breath in sharply. His dick was only inches from her nose and growing every second. The man had not been circumcised, and every inch of his dong from the very base to the exact tip of his foreskin was incised with glowing colors. The actual representation was that of a snake's head. It was repellent, yet fascinating. As the man's erection grew to monstrous proportions, it seemed as if the snake was stretching its neck to her, growing larger and more menacing every moment-the eyes waxing huge, the ugly slit of the mouth stretching-stretching ready to dart its poison fangs into her face without the slightest warning!
"Shit-" she whispered, hypnotized by the reptilian visage that hung, tremulous, before her eyes. It was all just too real-the beady black eyes, the needle-tipped fangs, the slimy scales-
The man noted her undisguised nausea and fear with genuine amusement. "Watch out it doesn't bite you!" he cautioned, lunging his hips forward a fraction of an inch.
Eunice saw the repulsive head strike toward her face. She acted instinctively, without thinking. In a flash she bared her teeth and sank them into the snake-like rod of meaty tissue! She sank them deep. It was all over in an instant.
The man did not stir or flinch. He eyed her stolidly as she hastily disengaged her teeth from his dick and began to stammer, "Oh shit, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Shit, I didn't know what I was thinking of. Did I hurt you?" Then, noting the ruby droplets that had begun to stain the skin of the still-erect organ, she cried, "Oh yes, I did! I did hurt you! Oh shit, do you have a band-aid or something? Maybe I ought to put some mercurochrome on it ... "
The man leaned back against the rear of the bar. He was still perfectly relaxed. "Well, that's a new one," he remarked laconically. "Lady bites snake. That's a good one for the papers!"
"Oh no," she moaned, "it's nice of you to treat this as some sort of joke, but really, it's no joking matter. You're bleeding. You could get lockjaw from a thing like this. Maybe we should call a doctor-"
The barkeep laughed heartily. "Hey, that'd be some scene!" he guffawed, "imagine me trying to explain to some square doc how I happened to get bit on my snake-headed cock! He's liable to have me locked up in a loony bin someplace! No, don't worry about it, lady. No band-aid. No mercurochrome. I'll just let it hang out a little while. The bleeding'll stop faster that way."
His cock was dripping blood all over the beer-spattered floor, but he didn't seem worried. Eunice set her lips determinedly. "It was a stupid, cruel thing for me to do," she blurted. "I think I should recompense you in some way-"
"Forget it."
Eunice's face was a resolute mask. "I won't walk out of here till I've made amends," she stated firmly. "I should at least allow you to hurt me the same way I hurt you!"
The man's eyes lit up with glee. "You got a cock I can bite?" he queried. "Hey-you a transvestite or something?"
"No!" Her fingers worked feverishly at the back of her dress. Suddenly she was peeling her dress downwards from her shoulders. Her tits tumbled out like two liberated puppies. "There!" she gasped, "do you still think I'm a transvestite?" She clutched her skirt well above her waist and bared her muff and belly for the man's inspection. "Ever seen a transvestite with fixtures like these?"
"No," the man admitted, his eyes roving boldly over the blushing softness of her boobs and the pulsating lips that gleamed moistly beneath the coal-black shock of lustrous pussy hair. "No ... "
He seemed to be thinking deeply. Abruptly, he said, "Lady, take my advice, Get your ass out of here and go back wherever you came from or I won't be responsible."
"No!" She stamped her foot with a violence that made her naked tits jiggle like day-old Jello. "I want you to punish me for the stupid, cruel thing I did to you. You can do anything you like. Bite my tits. Would you like that? Have you ever bitten a woman's boob? Here's your chance! Or you can kick my ass. I'll let you kick it as much as you like. Go ahead-take your pick!"
A slow change was coming over the man's face. Eunice had awakened the slumbering ape that lies more or less buried in every male. It was to be a long time before it would slumber again. His jaw stiffened. His eyes glinted like pebbles embedded in winter ice. Without a word he went to the door, locked it, and pulled down the shade. Now they were isolated. Alone. Without a chance of interruption from the outside world.
He beckoned to her to come out from behind the bar. Eunice meekly obeyed. "Take off your dress," he commanded in leaden tones.
Eunice's heart beat like a trip hammer as she silently complied. What in the name of hell had she gotten herself into? She didn't know. She only knew this little drama had to be played out to full completion. Somewhere, deep-buried within her brain, a voice told her that this was the quarry she had been hunting down, this was the moment she had been seeking since the hour that she and Madge had formulated their plan. A spine-shivering tremor shot through her. Oh shit, she was completely at this brute's mercy. And mercy was the last thing she wanted!
Now, clad only in garter belt, hose, and alligator pumps, she stood before him, trembling slightly, in spite of her bravado. "Wh-what are you going to do to me?" she stammered.
The man's onslaught, when it came, was infinitely faster than her eye could follow. All she knew was that suddenly, with the demoniac swiftness of a striking cobra, his hand shot behind her, impaling her ass-hole with such fury that she was actually lifted off her feet! In the same instant she felt him clutch her body to his in a cruel embrace, and felt his dick mashed against the outswelling softness of her belly and she sensed the gush of his hot piss flooding up over her belly, squirting at times as high as her breasts, then cascading down over her thighs, drenching her hose and draining into her expensive custom-lasted pumps.
"Cunt!" the man snarled, "I've always wanted to piss all over one of you society dames, and now I'm in my glory!" He clutched her even tighter, so tight she had to fight to breathe. His ramrodding finger lanced into the forbidden tunnel, rampaging with impudent ease among the dary mysteries of her ass-hole.
Eunice hung there, struggling for breath, her feet dangling five inches from the floor, insulted both before and behind. She had never had a man urinate on her before. And her ass was virgin territory, never, until this very moment, explored by any human being.
The man dropped her as abruptly as he had seized her. Limp as a wet dishrag, Eunice felt her knees collapse beneath her. She stumbled to her knees. In that second, the man seized her long, black tresses and forced her face against his crotch. "All right," he commanded, "now suck the piss off my bloody dick! You'll see what it means to fuck around with Turk Hickey!"
Eunice knew better than to hesitate. At the same time, it took an enormous act of will on her part to slide the monstrous, garishly dyed snake's head, dripping with piss and oozing blood from half-a-dozen tiny pinprick wounds, between her velvety lips. She touched the tip of the foreskin tentatively with her tongue.
Then, before she could ease the hideous member into the cushiony softness of her mouth, Turk interrupted her. "Peel back my foreskin," he ordered her. She did so, and the purplish-pink head oozed into view. "It's more sensitive this way," he declared. Then a savage thought struck him. "You like it better this way, don't you? You'd rather lick a nice, pink head than an ugly old tattooed foreskin, wouldn't you?"
"Y-yes ... "
"Okay," he snapped, "why not go all the way, then? I've been thinking for some time of having myself circumcised, because all the chicks seem to feel the same way you do. But it bums my ass to pay some doc fifty bucks for a simple operation like that. How'd you like to do it for me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Bite it off."
"No!"
"Go ahead, bite it off. I give you permission. Take my foreskin between your teeth and bite the goddamn thing right off the end of my cock. It's a cheap way to get rid of it."
"No..."
"I won't even make you swallow it. I'll let you spit it out. How's that?"
Noting the look of intense revulsion on Eunice's face, Turk laughed and struck her across the face with the back of his hand.
"Chicken! huh?" he jeered. "Okay, I won't make you do it this time. Go ahead now and lay that sweet tongue of yours on my cock and lick me clean. Hurry up!" He struck her again.
Eunice eagerly applied her lips to his squalid organ. She was glad he could not know the keen pulse of orgasmic throbbing she felt with each blow, each humiliation. What irony! she mused, as she bobbed her head over the hot lump of briny-tasting meat. All my life I've been treated like a lady, all my life people have put me on a pedestal like a queen ... and all the time, what I really wanted was a good kick in the ass ... what I really needed was to have someone strip me, force me to my knees, and ram his cock down my throat. Shit, what heaven it would be if he would only piss in my mouth right now!
As she worked her famished tongue over his swollen cock, Turk loosened his belt and let his pants drop around his ankles. This gave Eunice the opportunity to fondle his hairy ass. "Suck, you society slut," he urged her softly, "suck my balls too ... when I'm through with you, you'll think twice before you ever sink those pretty, white teeth of yours into a fellow's cock-"
At that precise moment, the door at the side of the room opened, and the young prostitute reappeared with her customer. Neither of them paid the slightest notice to the spectacle that confronted them. They simply walked around Eunice as she squatted in the middle of the floor, busily delving her tongue beneath Turk's balls while his slimy wet cock slithered across her face.
The prostitute unlatched the door. She kissed her customer lightly on the cheek. "G'by now," she murmured, smiling, "and thanks for recommending me to your friends. The party's on Wednesday night, right?"
"That's it," the man replied. His hungry hand intruded once more beneath her skirt to caress the tight, youthful globes of her ass. "You've got the address?"
"I got it. Invite as many as you like. Tell them no holds barred. I ball, I suck, I take it up the ass. Whatever they'll pay for, I'll do. Make it clear to them."
"There'll be at least twelve, fourteen guys," the man reminded her somewhat doubtfully. "Sure you can handle that many? Maybe you ought to bring a friend."
"I can handle them!" the girl laughed confidently. "And they won't be sitting around getting restless, either! I love to take on three at a time. I got a tender mouth, a tight pussy and a sweet ass. No, I don't need no help!"
"Okay!" He kissed her and went out the door. The girl, who was only wearing a pajama top, locked the door again, plodded around the sweating, straining couple, and disappeared once more through the side door.
By now, his fingers still knotted deep within Eunice's silken tresses, Turk had crammed the entire mass of his lust-engorged genital apparatus into her mouth. Her throat strained to accommodate the pounding knob of his maniacally thrusting dick, while her cheeks bulged with his plum-sized balls. She no longer attempted to lick him or suck him. It was all she could do to keep her neck from snapping under the impact of his pile driving jabs.
"Ugh! Ugh!" she breathed as she felt the prick-head, deep-swallowed in her throat, expand to suffocating size. Now the entire mass of squirmy flesh was twitching within her mouth and she sensed the first tingling spurts of his upwelling come.
"Ugghh!! " she gagged as his sperm shot down her gullet, foamed over her tongue and swirled within her cheeks. In the divine frenzy of his climax, Turk rammed his hips even further into Eunice's face. She felt as if she were being compelled to swallow everything-his semen, his dick, and his balls. She had the helpless feeling that her mouth was claimed forever by the dangling glories that lay between Turk's legs.
At last, though, as with most things, it came to an end. The final drops oozed from the tip and Turk withdrew his dong from between her bruised, battered lips. With a contemptuous flip of his ham-like hand, he tipped her over onto the floor, where she lay, naked except for her urine-soaked hose, sprawled with eyes half closed.
Turk removed his pants and flung them behind the bar. He took a cigar from a box beside the cash register and lit it. Exhaling a deep puff with obvious satisfaction, he asked, "Had enough, lady?"
He was not prepared for the answer. Eunice darted a flickering glance his way, let a tiny smile tilt the corners of her lips, and said, "I thought you were going to punish me."
"What!"
"Why, yes..." Supporting her body on one elbow, she tossed her head defiantly as she stared him down. "I mean, I don't call that punishment. What kind of discipline is that-making me suck your lovely big cock? I don't know which I enjoyed more-licking the blood off your prick, or sipping the pretty yellow drops of piss that trickled down your thighs! I mean, it's not Christmas, or my birthday or anything-why are you so nice to me?"
"You fucking cunt-"
"Oh, there's no need to call names," she reminded him. "I'm only saying what's fact, and you know it! I know if I were a man and some stupid chick bit my cock half off, I'd really tattoo her ass with my boot heels! I'd kick her stupid ass from one end of the room-"
That's when Turk really let her have it. His up-thrust boot caught her just under the tit and sent her careening halfway across the room. She blacked out for an instant. When she snapped back to full consciousness, the boot was just crunching into the ballooning flesh of one lovely ass-cheek.
They were beautiful, heavy boots. Turk brought his things at a store that catered to the special needs of construction workers, telephone linemen, and other men who work in rough, dangerous trades where heavy leather and solid gear can save a life. The boots were blunt-tipped, of supple, thick leather, laced with rawhide, and cleated with metal at the heels. The solid floor shook beneath his tread.
Turk now proceeded to kick Eunice's ass from one end of the room to the other. Far from daunting her, she began to cry, "Oh yes! Yes! That's the way I want it! Oh! Oh shit-you caught me between the legs that time! You kicked my pussy, do you know that? Do it some more!"
From a sleek, beautifully-turned out society matron, Eunice had turned into a disheveled, groveling wretch, smeared with filth, imploring the uncouth beast that towered over her to defile her in every imaginable way. "I thought you were going to abuse me!" she taunted him through puffed, broken lips. "When are you going to start to punish me? I want to be hurt! You haven't hurt me yet!"
With a muttered curse, Turk went to where his pants were lying and stripped off the belt. It was a murderous piece of gear, buckled in steel and studded with brass. Turk yanked Eunice from where she lay sprawled on the floor and flung her bodily onto one of the tables with a force that threatened to splinter it. Then he lay into her with the belt.
Wham! Wham! the cruel leather slashed across Eunice's wide-scissored thighs, reaping a harvest of ugly red welts on the satiny flesh with every stroke. Then he went on to her back and shoulders. At last, his arm tiring, Turk flung away the belt, grabbed Eunice up off the table, and clutched her roughly against him. He held her facing away, his talon-like hands buried in the melony ripeness of her tits, his massive legs wound about hers so the brutal metal cleats mashed her bare toes against the rough, unpainted floorboards.
"Had it, baby?" he whispered in her ear. "Had enough, Mrs. Richbitch? If you haven't, I've got lots, lots more to give. Just say the word!"
Her voice was barely audible as she replied, "Kiss my ass, you stupid ape mother-fucker. You stupid, flunkey barkeep-"
Turk released her breasts and took both her hands in his. One brute-like paw was more than sufficient to restrain both her fragile arms. Then, with the other hand, he removed the lighted cigar from his mouth and rammed the wet end up her pussy. Then he just stood there. Eunice was completely unable to move ... her feet stomped immobile against the floor beneath Turk's ponderous boots ... her arms restrained in his iron embrace!
"Now, well just wait, Richbitch," he murmured close against her ear. "Give that cigar another two minutes. It won't go out. It's good tobacco, tight-wrapped. Lady, in just about two minutes, they'll be calling you the hottest pussy in town!" He rammed his knees into the backs of hers, forcing her sweat-drenched body to arch backward.
Eunice's mind floated in a kind of ecstasy, equally compounded of anticipation and fear. What was it like to be burned on the twat by the strong brute who had enslaved you? Oh Shit-if only she had met Turk years ago. Before she met Henry ... but it was idle to think of that now. There was a time when she would have spurned Turk beneath her feet. There was a time when she would have spit at him. It took years of marriage to Henry to make her appreciate a real man like Turk.
Eunice's tensely arched body shivered with expectation. The heady, dark fumes of the tobacco were very strong in her nostrils. And now ... now she thought she detected another smell. Yes ... yes, it was the nauseating stench of smoldering hair! The cigar had burned down to her pussy hair. It was singeing its way down to her petal-tender, snowflake-soft pussy lips. Here it comes ... here it comes ... she braced herself-
But something else came at that moment also. Eunice could no longer restrain a certain call of nature. She had been holding it in for the last hour. Now, as the hysterical tension reached climax inside her, she could hold it in no longer. She began to piss. The strong, amber stream of liquid issued irresistibly from between her legs, extinguishing the cigar in a spluttering hiss.
"Oh shit," she moaned, "shit, shit, shit!"
"All right, that does it!" Turk snarled. Flinging her off, he sent her reeling against the wall. "Get your ass out of here. I got no more time to waste! Come on, beat it!" His clomping stride as he stormed to the door, unlocked it, and flung it open was like that of an enraged bear. "Beat it!" he yelled, holding the door wide.
"Please ... my clothes-" Eunice began.
"I said, beat it!" Turk raged. As Eunice bent to pick up her dress, Turk ripped the garment from her hands and sent it to a far corner. Seizing her by the scruff of the neck, he dragged her to the doorway and sent her flying into the street.
"Oh shit!" she cried as she stumbled to her knees, "you can't put me out in the street naked like this! I've got to drive all the way back to Manhattan. I can't drive bare ass naked like this!"
"Try," Turk suggested, screwing his features into a pouting leer. As Eunice struggled to stand, something hit her in the face. It was her purse. The clasp ruptured as it struck her, sending her coins, keys, and other personal articles in a wide scatter. Her face incandescent with shame, Eunice knelt there on the pavement, stark naked, retrieving each tiny article and cramming it back inside the purse.
"The mother-fucker," she whispered over and over, "the mother-fucker ... I'll get even with him yet, just you wait and see..." The drive back to town was a perfect nightmare. She avoided the main roads as much as possible, keeping to the darker, less-frequented thoroughfares. She hunched down in her seat every time another car passed. By the time she reached the nineties on the west side of Manhattan, she was breathing easier. But one very formidable problem still lay ahead-how was she to enter her apartment? They kept their car in an underground garage, directly beneath the apartment house. But she still had to get from the garage to the elevator. She couldn't walk through the halls and the lobby stark naked, her hips and legs stained with urine, her lips and chin encrusted with Turk's dried sperm! What the hell was she supposed to do?
Her inspiration came from the sudden glimpse of a streetwalker lounging beneath a street lamp. Eunice eased the car to the curb alongside the young woman, rolled down the window, and said, "I'll give you exactly twenty bucks for the dress you have on your back. Right now. This minute. Is it a deal?"
The whore's eyes narrowed as she regarded Eunice. A foul curse rose to her lips, but died on her tongue as she noted Eunice's bare shoulders and breasts. She drew nearer and stared amazedly inside the car. "You sitting in the Caddy all naked?" she vociferated. "You sure are! Wow-what a way to cruise! I'm sorry I never thought of that. How much you make a night this way?"
Eunice couldn't help smiling. "I'm not what you think," she said. "As a matter-of-fact, my boyfriend threw me out of his place without a stitch of clothes on. What do you think of that?"
"I say, cut the mother-fucker's balls off," came the prostitute's instant retort. "So you need a dress, huh? You'll give me twenty dollars for this four-dollar thing from the five-and-ten?"
Eunice opened her purse and fanned the bills under the girl's nose. "You got a deal, sister," the whore grunted. "I'm okay, I live just half a block down the street. Anybody gives me trouble, I'll take their dick home in my pocketbook!" As the woman peeled off her dress, Eunice saw she had an evil-looking razor tucked into her stocking top.
Eunice alighted from the car. Handing over the money, she took the cheap, orange-vermilion frock from the girl's hands and slipped it on. It fitted very tightly, but it would serve to get
Eunice from the garage to the apartment. That was all that mattered. The whore stood there, naked now except for a pair of red lace bikini panties and her electric-blue high-heeled shoes, regarding Eunice with an appraising stare.
"You've got a very lovely figure, sister," the whore declared, a hint of envy in her voice, "a real prick-stiffener! You could make a nice bundle if you ever decided to enter the life, you know that?"
The whore's pear-shaped boobs swung inside the window as she said, "Oh no-the thanks are all on my side. You've done me a great favor. You want to know something? I'm going to get myself a little car-one of them Volkswagens maybe-and bounce around town with my bare twat hanging out. It's a million times better than hanging out under this street lamp waiting for some of them cheap Johns to drift out of the bars. You've shown me how to make a mint, lady-a mint! As of tonight, I'm marking my ass up from nine ninety-eight to fifteen dollars plus tax!"
Eunice smiled as she watched the young woman saunter casually down the sidewalk toward the ratty-looking hotel in the middle of the block, her succulent can bursting from the bonds of her sleazy panties, entirely negligent of her nearly complete nudity.
Eunice got home without further incident. The .doorman, lounging in the lobby, gave her no more than an interested flick of the eyes as she emerged from the garage. Once inside the apartment, Eunice stripped off the dress and put it in with the kitchen trash to be incinerated next day. Then, after she had indulged in the long luxury of a shower and a shampoo, she looked in on her daughter, Kathy. Although Kathy was now in her mid-teens, she looked almost like a child as she lay there, fast asleep, her jet-black hair foaming across the pillow, her innocent face uncreased with worry. "Sleep tight," Eunice murmured as she bent down and kissed the youngster's cheek. "Sleep peaceful while you can. The day's not far off when you'll need a cock between your legs to ward off insomnia. Life won't be so simple then..."
Back in her own bedroom, Eunice gave Henry a long, hard stare. He was dead to the world-no faking that buzz saw snore of his! Letting her bathrobe fall from her shoulders, she examined her body meticulously in the full-length mirror. There were some bruises ... there had to be bruises. A few cuts. One tit still felt numb where Turk had kicked it. But she felt good. She had gotten what she wanted. She licked her lips, remembering the taste of Turk's sperm. The gummy, gooey saltiness of it ... the great gush flooding her mouth ... the tang of his sweaty balls on her tongue...
On sudden impulse, Eunice ripped back the covers, exposing Henry's pajama-clad form. Delving her hand into his fly she had to search for several seconds before she found what she wanted. Then, crouched above him, she greedily applied her lips to the tiny, wilted cylinder that skulked between his legs. No ... no use. After five minutes she gave it up.
Extinguishing the light, she fell into bed. Smiling in the darkness, she summoned up the events of the evening one by one. She had lost her momentary animosity toward Turk. She didn't even hate him for flinging her out of doors without so much as a stitch. Deep down, she had reveled in being made to scuttle along the street clad in nothing but her own skin and the filth of Turk's body. Yes, it was what she unconsciously craved for many a year.
The only thing lacking in an otherwise-perfect evening was a good fuck. That was the one thing she had missed. Her pussy still itched from the need for an arrogant prick to tickle her outermost lips, coax the juice-brimming walls into overflowing, and then take insolent mastery of her squirming pussy...
Ohhh! Her box really did itch! It seemed to be on fire. Thrusting tentative fingers between her pussylips, Eunice suddenly realized it had a very good reason for itching. And not just lust, either. She had forgotten to remove the damn cigar from where Turk had jammed it inside her!
She had to stuff a handkerchief in her mouth to keep her giggles from arousing Henry. She went into the bathroom, gingerly extracted the sodden brown cylinder, douched herself, and then laughed herself to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
That had been just two months ago. The following evening Eunice called Turk at the bar and made a date with him. From that point on they met constantly, at least several times a week. There were times when Turk took her to his lousy little apartment, but there were other times when they met in a movie or a restaurant before going to a hotel for a screw. Twice she had taken a real chance and fucked him in her apartment.
Henry had been out of town both times, and the first time she hadn't worried about Kathy. However, on the second time around Kathy had walked in on them. Oh, they had finished fucking, but Eunice just didn't like the idea of her daughter knowing about Turk. It made her dreadfully uneasy. As a result they had never met in her apartment again.
Now she eased herself back in the driver's seat and headed for the industrial suburb of Yonkers. It wouldn't be much longer before his cock was ramming her pussy. She pressed the gas pedal nearer to the floor, even though she was already speeding. She was in such a hurry for his cock. After the fiasco with the messenger, she really needed something badly.
She noticed that Turk seemed a bit surprised as she walked into his bar. There was only one customer in there, and Eunice felt that that was lucky. She ordered a drink and then whispered in Turk's ear that the chaser would be the usual. She sat down on the bar stool and looked up at him.
Turk's face was a sullen, withdrawn mask as he served her. "Can't you at least say hello?" Eunice asked tartly.
"I thought I told you never to come here without phoning ahead," Turk hissed. "This is no good. I can't do anything for you tonight!"
"Why the hell not?"
He hesitated for a moment, then said defiantly, "My ex-wife. She's back in town. It won't be long, a few days. But she's staying at my place. I can't take you there."
"Throw her out for a few minutes. I only need you for a few minutes."
He shook his head obdurately. "I can't. That chick has enough on me to put me behind bars for the next twenty years. Income tax stuff. Liquor law violations. That kind of thing. I've got to keep on the good side of her."
"Close the bar then. like we've done before. Fuck me here. Turk, it's only nine o'clock. I can't wait until midnight. I want it now. I'm going out of my mind!"
"Finger-fuck yourself then."
"I've been finger-fucking myself ever since I got past Eighty-sixth Street! I bought a hot dog at a drive-in stand in the Bronx and diddled my cunt with it all the way to the city line. It felt good inside me, Turk. It was broiling hot and greasy, right off the griddle when I jammed it up my pussy, just like your cock, Turk! It scorched me so bad I wanted to scream. But it was good, too. It's still lying there in my twat, Turk, all cold and shriveled. Take it out for me. I want hot meat inside me. I want your sausage. Come on, Turk, give it to me."
Turk slammed his hand on the bar with a crash that made the other customer sit up with a start. "You dames!" Turk sneered, "you get your hooks into a guy and from then on he doesn't get a minute's peace! Look, Eunice, for the hundredth time, you don't own me. I can't stop what I'm doing, close up shop, kick my old lady out of my apartment just to suit your convenience. You got hot pants? Find a guy with hot nuts. There's a million around! It's that simple!"
"It's that simple?" Eunice cried, her voice strident with emotion. "It's that simple! Wow, that shows how little you men know! Turk, can't you get it into your skull that I want it now? I'm not in the mood for bar-hopping. I don't have the patience to cruise tonight. I want my pussy prodded and I want it now. You're the only one I've got-"
"How about him?" Turk interrupted, jerking his head in the direction of the other lone customer.
"What?"
"Sure, him. He'd love to service you, any way you like. You name it." He turned to the man. "Hey, Mel, come over here a second."
The man left his drink and sauntered along the bar to where Eunice was sitting. "What's up?" he asked warily.
"I got a problem here, Mel," Turk said. "I want you to meet a friend of mine. Eunice, her name is. And Eunice, I'd like you to meet Mel Pollock. Mel's chief foreman in the factory across the street. A solid, responsible, clean-cut type." Turk faced the man squarely as he said, "Mel, I want your reaction to this broad's sob story. She tells me she's been diddling herself with a frankfurter. Says it's still stuck up her pussy. What would you do if a dame came to you with a story like that?"
Mel's glance went from Turk's face to
Eunice's and back again. "You putting me on, Turk?" he wanted to know.
"I wouldn't put you on, Mel, you know that."
Reassured, Mel said, "Well, if a fine-looking woman like Eunice came to me and complained of having an obstruction in her vagina, I'd say the gentlemanly thing would be to remove it as soon as possible."
"How would you go about that, Mel?" Turk asked with deadly seriousness.
"First I'd make a visual examination," Mel replied. "Do I have your authority for such an examination?"
"Pull your skirt up!" Turk ordered peremptorily. Then, noting Eunice's hesitation, he barked, "I said, pull your skirt up! All the way. Spread your legs. Come on, Mel's a busy man. He hasn't got all night!"
"I don't-" Eunice began. Turk reached across the bar and slapped her viciously across the mouth with the back of his hand. Her face flaring, Eunice lifted her skirt, completely baring her thighs, her crotch, and her belly as high as the navel.
"It's a little hard to see in this light," Mel declared. Getting down on his knees, he stared between Eunice's splendid, meaty thighs for a moment, then deliberately commenced to slide his finger upward. "I feel something," he announced after a moment. "Yes, it feels like she's really got a frankfurter stuck up there."
"Does it feel cold and shriveled, the way she was telling me?" Turk asked.
"I'll need a closer examination," the man said, insolently thrusting his finger deeper, deeper.
"Get your hand out of my cunt," Eunice commanded icily. "I didn't come here tonight to give you a free feel, mister! Turk, are you going to let any Tom, Dick or Harry that comes into this bar-"
"I don't know about Tom," Turk snapped instantly, "and I don't know about Harry. But any dick that wants you can have you. Go ahead, Eunice, let him do it. Mel's got as good a dick as any man around. I've seen the little whore take it out many a time, right here in this bar."
"Oh well, if the lady says hands off, I'll accommodate her," Mel said easily. "I don't need hands for an operation like this. Let me show you what we do over at the plant when a pipe's plugged up. We use suction." With that, still groveling on his knees, Mel began to lap Eunice's thighs. His tongue played hungrily over the broad, shiny streaks of grease that had oozed from the frankfurter and trickled down the insides of her thighs.
"How does it taste, Mel?" Turk laughed.
"Tastes good," the other man rejoined breathlessly. "From the taste of the grease I'd say an order of sauerkraut went with that hot dog!" Now his tongue laved her outer pussy lips. "And maybe a touch of mustard besides."
Eunice couldn't help smiling. "You're right," she admitted. "There was sauerkraut, mustard, and just a tiny slice of onion." She turned helplessly to Turk. "Oh, Turk, Turk," she moaned. "I wish these were your lips on my pussy."
Turk, however, remained immobile behind the bar as Mel once again bent to his work. Welding his lips solidly to Eunice's greasy twat, he commenced to suck. Slowly, surely the frankfurter began to emerge. As soon as he had enough to sink his teeth into, Mel very slowly started to draw it out, nibbling the meat and swallowing it as it came. With the final half-inch of frankfurter there also came a great gush of grease-reeking pussy juice that had lain dammed up behind it. Mel thirstily caught this in his mouth and swallowed it. He paused a moment to take a breath. Then, ravenous beyond all control, he smeared his snout against her sodden cunt, wrenched her body from the bar stool and, his nails nearly sunk to the knuckles in her marshmallow-soft ass, commenced to suck her organs with loud, greedy, slurping grunts and slaverings.
Noting the man's pleasure, Turk said, "Why don't you let him fuck you, Eunice? The guy would give his right ball just to-"
But then it happened. Mel suddenly ripped his lips from the delightful cup at which he was imbibing. His body bent double in helpless spasms and he began to curse. "I came," he moaned agonizedly, "son of a fucking bitch, I came!" Glancing down, Eunice saw the wet stain spreading outward from his fly.
"It's true!" she cried triumphantly. "He came! Now you'll have to screw me, Turk. Now you'll have to do it!"
Turk threw up his hands helplessly. "All right," he acquiesced. "I give up." He turned to where Mel was ruefully picking himself up off the floor. "Watch the bar for me a few minutes, will you, Mel?" he requested. "I'm gonna take this hot-pants society bitch upstairs and give her a plowing that'll hold her for a week."
As they started up the stairs, Eunice said, "Put your hand up under my dress while we go upstairs, will you, Turk? Remember the time we were going up on the escalator at that big department store and you did that? And how shocked the old ladies behind us were? Feel my ass, Turk, you know how I love to have you tickle my bowels with your finger. Go ahead. I promise not to shit on your finger like I did that one time. Stick it up my ass-hole. Stick it up as far as it will go!"
Turk grudgingly complied. "I still have to laugh every time I think of that day on the escalator," he chuckled. "What were you wearing that afternoon?"
Eunice stopped halfway up the stairs and, protruding her rosy globes boldly, commenced to masturbate her ass-hole against Turk's up-thrusting finger. "Let me think ... oh, I remember, it was my orange-pink mini. With nothing underneath. You felt my ass and brushed your lips against it for just a second. I'll always remember that, Turk. I love it when you expose me in public. I love it when you feel me up in public. Let's do it again some time soon, all right?"
"Okay, okay," Turk mumbled noncommittally. "Come on, let's go upstairs and get it over with. I don't want to leave Mel alone in the bar for too long. I'll bet the frigger is pouring himself a free drink right now!"
They climbed the remainder of the stairs. Turk opened the door that lay right at the top. There was no landing or hallway of any kind. He immediately unbuckled his belt and started to zip down his pants. Eunice followed him, nearly falling over herself in her eagerness to disrobe and flop into bed. She had just begun to yank up her skirt when she stopped in mid-motion. "Oh, shit!" she gasped incredulously.
"What's the matter?" Turk wanted to know. His pants dropped to the floor and he kicked them aside.
Eunice pointed in shocked disbelief to the bed. "There's-there's already a couple in here!" she declared. It was true. The young whore she'd seen many times in the bar downstairs was grappling with a customer atop the filthy, stained coverlet.
"So what?" Turk shrugged. "You were just telling me how much you like to do it in public. Here's your chance."
"But-but not on the same bed with others," Eunice gulped. "Not on the same bed with a whore! Oh Turk, I can't do it. I'd feel as if I were putting myself on the same level as her! No, Turk, don't make me do this!"
The white heat of Turk's fury made the words die in her throat. "Get your ass onto that bed!" he ordered. "Who the fuck are you to put yourself above that girl? She's an honest working girl. That's more than I can say for you! I'll give you just five seconds to peel out of that dress and spread your legs on that bed!"
"We could do it in my car, lurk!" Eunice protested. "It's got a nice, roomy back seat-ugghhh! Oh, watch it, Turk, you're, ugghh!"
In his rage, Turk had turned on Eunice, swooped his hips under hers, impaling her pussy on his oak-hard, oak-stiff cock and lifted her bodily from her feet. The unexpected fury of his assault had pried her right out of her shoes. As her body dangled helplessly from the impaling prong of Turk's mighty dong, her bare legs twitching pathetically, he smashed her across the face twice with all his might.
"I didn't ask you to come here tonight, cunt!" he snarled. "This was your idea, remember? You want to fuck, you'll fuck on my terms!" He flipped her onto the bed with a powerful heave of his hips and began to ream her with a viciousness that showed all too plainly his determination to get it over with as soon as possible.
Eunice lay there, smarting under the humiliation she had received in front of the whore. How can he treat me like this in front of a common slut and her John, she brooded. It soon became obvious to her, however, that the prostitute was paying her not the slightest attention. She was much too intent on pleasing her customer in whatever way he desired. Crouched on her hands and knees, the young woman had sucked the man's balls between her lips and was mouthing them, mashing them with her tongue and palate, slavering over them like a beast feeding at a trough. As her saliva drooled into the hairy valley between his legs and over his ass, she enthusiastically lapped it up again.
Watching the whore from the corner of her eye, Eunice now noticed something that dismayed her considerably. The young woman was far gone in pregnancy. Why hadn't she noticed this before? Then she remembered this was the first time she had ever seen her completely in the nude; previously, she had always worn a loose shirt of some kind and had remained at the far end of the bar.
Tonight, however, the girl's condition was startlingly apparent. In her present pose, crouched over the man, the great rotundity of her strained, slickly gleaming belly grazed the bedclothes. Her tits had swollen to twice their normal size and her ass was an enormous surge of jelly-quavery flesh that bounced and quaked with the slightest motion of her hips. As she licked the man's balls, his hands went to her pendulous boobs, caressing them, rolling the protuberant nipples between thumb and forefinger, yanking and jerking them as if he were trying to pinch forth the milk that would still be weeks in the coming.
The odor of the girl's pussy and ass was very noticeable to Eunice, especially as, in her ecstatic thrashings she was constantly in danger of ramming her privates right in the older woman's face. The girl's crotch exhaled an exciting, musky odor as it streamed with sweat from both her orifices.
Now the whore had removed her lips from her customer's genitals and planted her mouth squarely on his. As she swung around, his upraised pole grazed her pussy. She flinched away. "Not tonight," she murmured to him. "I'm too far gone. It wouldn't be safe. I'll do anything else you like, though. How do you want it?"
The man smiled up at her, Kneading her ass flesh like two great balls of dough, he said, "I just want to suck your pussy. I freak out on pregnant pussy. Hair pie is always my dish, but a nice, fat, juicy pregnant cunt-mmm, boy! Outasight! Is it okay? Can I slip my tongue between your legs?"
The whore grinned happily. Sprawling with her back against the foot of the bed, she said, "Help yourself!" Scissoring her legs wide she exposed the warm, livid gash of cushiony pink flesh between her lower lips. She took the customer's head in her hands and pressed his face to her muff. "Kiss my cunt first," she urged him softly. "I love to be kissed there. Kiss it like you were kissing my mouth. Don't just suck it, make love to it. Be gentle with it."
The man obeyed. Crouching on all fours he began to kiss her pussy lips. Gradually he became more ardent. Eunice watched uncomfortably as his huge cock and balls swung uncomfortably near. The man had horrible dark, hairy balls, just like a Great Dane's, and his dick had a repulsive, raw look about it. Why was that, she wondered. In the next instant she found out. He raised his dripping face from between the girl's fleshy thighs and said, "My prick is so hot now it could almost come by itself!"
The girl smiled exuberantly, and said, "See what happens when I jerk you with sand paper? I told you, you'd enjoy it."
The customer cuddled the angry-looking purplish-red tip in his hand and said, "Next time I want you to make it bleed. I want you to rub it raw with sand paper, then prick it with a pin. I'll bet I come in your hand!"
The whore seized him by the hair and thrust his face against her vagina again. "I'll prick your prick any way you want me to," she promised, "but for now, suck my twat. Eat me, eat me hard now. Let me see what you can do with that hot tongue of yours."
Using both hands, the man separated her fat, swollen pussy lips by sheer force and rammed his face within the enormous cavern he thereby opened up. Not only his tongue but also his entire face was engulfed in the chasm of her twat, slithering and drowning in the voluminous outpour of sticky honey that gushed from unseen wells.
The girl's face was contorted with erotic frenzy. She began to slobber and froth at the mouth as she mumbled, "Oh yes, that's the way I like it! Poke your tongue up further, further. Oooh, it feels like your tongue is two feet long. Can you feel my baby inside there? Can you? Go ahead, tickle my baby's ass with your long, pussy-sucking tongue. Suck my baby's dick. Go ahead, you can do it! Oooh, I can feel it, mister. You've got those thick fat lips of yours wrapped around my little baby's dick and you're sucking him, and sucking him. Make him come in your mouth. Go ahead, take all night, if you like!"
The man's fervor was truly maniacal. Crouched on his knees, his face swallowed up by her pussy folds, he commenced to jerk his dick frantically. Eunice watched uneasily as, totally oblivious to all around him, he swung his penis in a wide arc. Suddenly, it happened. Eunice gasped in revulsion as the first viscous yellow gobs tore loose from the madly jerked tip and spattered across her thigh.
At that moment, the steely-hard snake's head struck a hammer-like series of blows within her. Turk's cock was beating a venomous drum beat against her womb and she knew he was coming. She was on the verge of orgasm herself.
Shit, shit! She was being drenched in sperm! The whore's customer, jerking himself off with insane recklessness, was vomiting his snotty, creamy sperm all over the bed. Over her thighs, onto her ass, spattering her breast, soiling the bedclothes. Turning on him, Eunice felt the angry words die in her throat. Disgust turned to pleasure as she watched the greasy droplets smash against her upreared thighs and dribble down her skin. Surreptitiously she shifted her body slightly to take the full impact of his pulsing syrup.
"Yes," she murmured to herself, "this is the way it ought to be. This is the way I want it!"
Inwardly, she resolved that if another opportunity like the present one ever came up, she would take full advantage of it. If only she hadn't been so arrogant and haughty! If only she'd acted faster! She could easily have grabbed the man's cock out of his hand as soon as he started to jerk himself. She could imagine the oozy, squashy feeling as his come erupted over her hand, drowning her fingers in sticky warmth as she jerked him ruthlessly, twisting it into a corkscrew in her fervor. Or she could even have popped his dick into her mouth and gluttonized on the rich outpouring of heavy cream. What a waste to let his nectar spatter uselessly over the bedclothes! She could have done whatever she liked with the stranger's tool. He wouldn't have cared.
But would Turk have cared? This was the question that tormented her as she drove home that night. It had been a good fuck. Turk hadn't failed in that department. But he seemed to grow increasingly cooler with each passing week. She didn't mind it when he physically abused her. Quite the contrary. She loved it as much as ever when he hog-tied her and laid into her with his brass-studded belt.
Even his mighty snake's head cock wasn't striking with the old force. It was slower to' come up. Faster to go down. Would the night inevitably come when Turk wouldn't be able to get it up for her at all?
Shit! She shouldn't even think of such things. The thought of suicide flitted momentarily through her brain as she mused on the possibility of losing Turk. Fishing in the glove compartment, she drew out a flash of vodka and took a long, hard swallow. Then she drove on.
CHAPTER FOUR
There was only one way to describe Gail's present state of mind: frustration. After watching Madge fuck the messenger, bringing him to climax, after realizing that she would have to walk away unsatisfied, after wanting to get fucked, all of this had flooded her mind and her body with that one sensation-frustration.
She was now walking aimlessly about. There was no pattern to her walk, and she thought that she would just keep walking. Somewhere deep inside of her, there was a vague instinct for her to walk towards home.
Her apartment actually belonged to her aunt, who had given her the run of it during the summer. She knew that the best thing for her to do would be to return to the place. There she could take a nice shower, relax, and logically think things out. Sensible was the best way to describe what she should do, but somehow she didn't feel like doing the sensible thing.
It was as if there were two parts of her warring against each other. One was the more sensible part and the other was longing for cock. She had been taught that ladies, that proper people only had sex after they got married, and as of yet she had not fucked.
Oh, there were plenty of times that she had wanted to, like this afternoon, but each time she had restrained herself. Now she was flooded with the desire for fucking. She decided then that she would screw convention and do as she wanted. It was high time that she really started living.
In her southward progress, Gail had also been wandering westwards. Now she found herself on the edge of Central Park. She decided to go inside, find a quiet bench in a secluded corner of the park and sit there while she tried to collect her thoughts. The park was not as crowded as usual. Storm clouds overhead were causing most strollers to desert its open spaces for the shelter of bars and restaurants.
Gail did not care if it rained or not. She slumped into the first empty bench she .found and tried to pull herself together. Besides suffering from an itchy pussy, she was also hungry and tired. More tired than she had at first realized. Maybe it would have been wise to head for home. Still, though, it was so peaceful here in the park. She could relax here just as well as at home...
Bang! The heavy basketball caromed off the side of Gail's head with force enough to send whole constellations of stars churning across her field of vision!
"What the hell!" she gasped, staring wildly around her. "Who, what-" Then she saw the boy running toward her.
"I'm sorry, Miss," he was crying. "I-I didn't mean to do that, honestly I didn't! Did I hurt you bad?" He was a slightly-built blonde boy about twelve years of age. Genuine concern flashed from his eyes. He came to where she was still slumped on the bench and put his arm around her shoulder. She almost had the feeling that he was prepared to give her first aid if she turned out to be genuinely injured!
His humility and sincerity melted her at once. "It-it's all right," she smiled. "Accidents will happen. Don't give it a second thought." He really was a sweet boy! Gail smoothed her brown hair and wiped the smudge the ball had left on her cheek. "Don't worry about it."
"Sure there isn't something I can do?" His eyes were still wide with alarm.
"Yes," Gail smiled. She fished in her purse and took out some coins. "You can buy us some ice cream. There's a vendor right over there-see him? Get me a chocolate popsicle. Get whatever you want for yourself. Okay?" She dropped the coins in his hand.
Relieved at being let off so easily, the boy scampered along the path. He was back with the ice cream in only a minute. Gail patted the seat alongside her. "Sit down and keep me company," she suggested. "You're really a very nice-looking boy. What's your name? Do you live around here?"
"My name's Allie," the boy responded shyly. "I live on Madison Avenue. My mother lets me come here to play sometimes. She says it's all right if I talk to ladies. But she doesn't want me to speak to men. She says there are so many queers and perverts around."
"Oh, that certainly is so!" Gail quickly agreed. "No, you certainly should steer clear of any men that might approach you. Have any of them ever bothered you?"
"A couple of times," he admitted uncomfortably.
"What did they do to you?" Gail felt her heart beating faster as she posed the question.
"Oh, they-they showed me their dicks and tried to talk dirty to me," the boy stammered. "It made me feel awful strange!"
"Oh, it certainly should!" Gail agreed. She seemed to reflect for a moment. Then she said, "Allie, take a good look at my cheek. It feels bruised. The ball didn't break the skin, did it?"
"Gee, I hope not!" the boy exclaimed, instantly sympathetic. He leaned close, minutely appraising Gail's cheek. "Hmmm ... " he murmured, "no, it's not bleeding or anything-"
Gail couldn't understand at all how she could have been so careless. At that very moment, with the boy's leg close against her thigh, she dropped her popsicle. It fell, making a squishy puddle in his lap. "Oh!" Gail cried exasperatedly, "now it's my turn to apologize, Allie!"
Hastily extracting a tiny handkerchief from her purse, she commenced to dab at his lap. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she repeated over and over. "Your mother will want to kill me for this!" She dabbed harder and harder. Then she felt his crotch with her hand. "It still feels wet," she declared ruefully. "How does it feel to you?"
"Wet," he admitted. "And kind of sticky!" Gail boldly zipped the boy's fly down. "We'll just have to go beneath the surface!" she exclaimed with a wink. Then she jumped as if shocked. "Oh!" she cried, "I'm sorry, Allie! I didn't realize you weren't wearing any underwear!"
"I never do," he informed her calmly. "My mother says underwear is for sissies. Real men don't wear it, she says. So that's why I'm all bare underneath."
Gail cupped her handkerchief beneath his balls. Her heart pounded and her throat felt so dry she couldn't speak above a whisper.
"Am I embarrassing you?" she asked, as she slid her hanky up and down the pinkness of his solid shaft. "If I make you feel awkward, just say so, Allie."
"No," he said, fastening his pure, clear gaze on her scarlet features. "Mom would get real sore if I came home with my new pants all stained! And I don't have a handkerchief. So you might as well do it."
"All right," Gail acquiesced. She gulped as she took his little cock in her bare hand. "It still feels a little sticky, but it's dry, at least. Goodness, Allie-I just-I just can't help wondering what your mother would say if she came along right now and found a strange woman fondling her son's cock. Not knowing about the ice cream and all, you know? What do you think she'd say." Gail stammered at practically every other word.
The boy shrugged and smiled a crooked little smile. "I don't see why she should say much," he declared. "She's always got her hands inside my pants anyway."
"What!" Gail was aghast.
"Sure. Whenever we're alone, she's always opening up my pants and taking out my thing. You'd think it was some kind of toy or something." As he spoke, Gail could feel the member grow rock-stiff in her hand. Relinquishing it only with the greatest effort, she took the boy's hand and led him into a clump of bushes.
"Show me what else she does, Allie," Gail urged. They were perfectly alone now, shielded by the bushes from the prying eyes of spectators in practically every direction. "Show me some of the other things you and your mother do when you're alone together. Don't tell me. Show me!"
"Well..." the boy began awkwardly. "You won't get mad, no matter what I do?"
"I promise," Gail swore. "Honest to shit, Allie, you can do anything to me you like and I promise not to get the least little bit mad."
"All right," he said. Allie calmly reached up under Gail's skirt and :commenced to fondle her pussy. "She-likes to have me do this," he explained. His slim young fingers mauled her sopping pussy hair and one finger tentatively probed her outer cunt lips.
Gail jumped as if stung with an electric current. Her eyes narrowed. "You're making this up, aren't you?" she exclaimed. "I'll bet your mother doesn't let you do any such thing!"
"Yes she does!" the boy vowed, his voice rising. "Of course, there's something you should know. Maybe I should have told you before. She's not my real mother. My real mother died. Phyllis is my father's second wife. But she's wonderful. She's like a real mother to me."
"I-I see what you mean," Gail said, a great light suddenly dawning. She flopped down on the damp grass. Her miniskirt was well above her hips as she said, "What happens next after your mother feels your dick and makes it nice and hard and stiff the way it is now. Does she do what I've just done?"
"You mean, lie down and show me everything she's got between her legs? Yes, she's always doing that. Do you want to see what I do then?"
"Yes! Show me!"
The boy knelt down alongside her and began to lick her pussy. The inner surfaces of Gail's ass-cheeks were also exposed to the boy's gaze between her wide-split legs and he began to lick these also. His nose felt good and kind of tickly between her buttocks.
"You and your mother play some pretty exciting games together, don't you?" Gail laughed. She caressed the back of Allie's head as he mouthed her intimate parts. "Do you like doing that?" she asked him. "Don't you mind the pissy smell?"
"Oh no," he replied, "you smell sweet between the legs. My mother really smells pissy! But I don't mind-it makes me feel all funny inside. It makes my dick get hard. I like that!"
Gail took his hand and made him sit beside her. She took Allie's dick in her fingers and said, "It feels very hard now. You have a nice penis, Allie. It's not very long and it's not very thick, but it's pretty. It's the sort of penis a girl wouldn't hesitate to put in her mouth-it's so pink and clean-looking! Does your mother ever take it in her mouth?"
Allie nodded "Lots of times."
"Does she let you come in her mouth? Do you know what I mean by 'come' ? "
"Yes," he replied bashfully. "That's when I shoot that white stuff out the end of my dickie."
Gail hugged him, laughing. "You know quite a lot!" she praised him. "I'll bet you have a lot of little girlfriends in school, don't you?"
"No," he shook his head unhappily. "I don't go to a school like most boys. I was very sick with meningitis three years ago and the doctor said it would be better if I had a private tutor. I'm not really strong. I need lots of naps and special food. I'm home practically all day. With Mother."
"How nice for your mother!" Gail remarked. She was still caressing the boy's privates. "But you haven't answered my question, Allie. Does your mother let you come in her mouth?"
"Oh sure! You know how she-likes me to do it? She-likes to he down on the floor and have me kneel over her with my legs spread. Then she jerks my cock until I come. She-likes to watch the drops oozing from my dick from a height of about a foot over her face." The boy gestured with his hands to show Gail the distance he meant. "She-likes to watch them dribble out and then she tries to catch the gobs of come in her mouth. She always talks about how hot my come feels when it splashes against her face."
"What becomes of the part that she doesn't catch in her mouth?" Gail asked slyly. Now she had her hand all the way inside his pants and was ecstatically feeling his butter-soft young ass through his fly, making her hand creep up between his legs. She had been fearful that he might become nervous and embarrassed and set up a cry. But he seemed perfectly at ease. He didn't even flinch when she impudently pinched his ass with her nails.
"The part she doesn't catch in her mouth? Oh, she scrapes it off her face with her hand and eats it," the boy replied nonchalantly.
"Hmmm ... " Gail murmured reflectively, "so you're home all day alone with your mother, except when your tutor is there. How many times during the day does she jerk you and suck you and things like that?"
"It all depends on how she feels. She already made me come twice today."
"Twice already! Well, your mother certainly gets a lot of action out of her little boy, doesn't she? How did she-I mean, what did you and she do so far?"
"Well, when I woke up this morning, she was already in bed with me. I couldn't see her, but I could feel her, huddled under the covers. It felt wonderful, waking up like that with my dick sloshing around in her mouth! I just lay there quietly, pretending not to notice, trying to make the enjoyment last as long as I could. She didn't know I was awake. Gradually she straightened out her body until her hips were right in my face. The bunch of hair between her legs was all wet and smelly. It got me excited right away. Then I saw that the hair was wet from that white stuff that comes out of a boy's dick. So I figured Mother and Dad had been fooling around together before she came into my room.
Something came over me as soon as I saw it. I-I guess I went out of my head for a second! I gave up trying to pretend to be asleep. I leaned my head over and began to suck the white stuff and the sweat and everything else off the hair. There was a lot of it between her legs, and I licked that off too!"
"You ate your father's sperm?" Gail asked incredulously.
"I wouldn't do such a thing ordinarily," the boy explained. "But honest, Mother is so soft and squashy between the legs and this white stuff looked so good the way it was smeared into her big clump of hair and some of it was dribbling out of her hole and running out over her legs-it just looked so good-like tapioca pudding-that I had to eat it!"
"Allie, dear," Gail said, "would you mind dreadfully if I take your pants down? Your ass feels so good in my hands, I'd like to see what it looks like. I'll bet it's a real beauty!"
"Go right ahead," the boy said unselfconsciously. With trembling fingers, Gail unbuckled his belt, unzipped him and dragged his trousers down to ankle level. She kissed his buttocks. Then, cuddling his genitals in her hand once more, she said, "Well, go on, Allie. What happened next?"
"Well, I got so excited while I was licking Mother's pee-hole that I couldn't control myself and I shot my sperm into her mouth right away. We lay there for a few minutes, then Mother raised her head from under the covers and asked me, 'Did you enjoy eating Daddy's sperm, dear?' I told her yes. She smiled at me and said, "Well dear, there's more where that came from! Your father fucked me twice before he left for work this morning. Once he came inside my pussy. The next time he just stuck his cock between my legs and came between the cheeks of my ass. If you like the taste of his come, you'll find plenty of it smeared all over my ass. Why don't you lick my ass, dear? Go ahead-enjoy yourself!"
"So I did. Her can was still wet and slimy from where Dad had shot his load all over her. So I licked it all up and then I began to chew on this thick mat of hair she has between the cheeks of her can. It was all soppy from Daddy's sperm and all sweaty besides, but it tasted real good. Mother-likes me to take a firm grip on her hair with my teeth and then yank it and chew it. She says she-likes the way it hurts!"
Still maintaining a steadfast grip on Allie's dick, Gail moved his right hand between her legs. She held it there, loving the feel of his small, tender hand on her twat. "Did you suck your mother's ass-hole?" she asked.
He giggled. "Yes," he replied. "I sucked it and sucked it! It was real juicy. Mother was crouched over me on her hands and knees. She was moaning arid sometimes almost screaming and once the maid knocked on the door to ask if something was wrong. Mother calmed down right after that and she told the maid to bring in my breakfast. After breakfast, my tutor arrived and I studied with him until noon. I always have a two-hour lunch break before I have to go back to my studies. The doctor wants me to take a nice long nap every day right after lunch, but lately I've had to skip it."
"Why is that?" Gail wanted to know.
"As soon as I lie down, Mother comes in and sits on the edge of my bed and asks me if I've fallen asleep yet. Of course, I have to say no. Then she asks if it would calm me down to have my dickie stroked. And I say yes. It does calm me at first and I can feel myself drowsing off. But Mother is never content to stop there.
"She handles it and handles it till it gets real hard. She can see it poking up inside my pants. So then she acts real indignant and says, 'Well, there's no sense wasting a perfectly good hard-on!' She opens up my pants and lifts her skirt and the next thing I know she's lying on top of me and my dickie is inside her. She grinds her bare stomach against mine until I come. Sometimes I'm so tired afterward I fall asleep with the full weight of her on top of me."
"So you've already climaxed twice today!" Gail observed. "What happens during the evening?"
"She leaves me alone mostly in the evening, at least the early part," the boy replied. "Eight o'clock, though, is when she gives me my bath. She fills the bathtub with nice, hot water and soaps me all over. Then she works up lots of nice, warm, gooey lather in her hands and soaps my dick and my balls. She takes a long time about it ... she's always saying a boy can't be too clean around his privates. She makes me stand up in the bathtub and she sits on a low stool alongside the tub. And she massages my dick continuously with warm soapsuds."
"She's just giving you a final jerk-off for the day, you realize that, don't you?" Gail remarked rather acidly.
"I know. But it feels so good! And I always fall asleep right away after my bath. Sometimes I even fall asleep right there in the bathroom while she's drying me off. It's such a wonderful feeling, resting my head against her soft breasts while she dries me with a big, fluffy bath towel. She's awfully good to me. Nicer than my real mother was." The boy hesitated for a moment. Then his features clouded slightly and he said, "I-I just hope I don't get like Brian, that's all!"
"Who's Brian?" Gail asked.
"He's my brother. He's a year older than I am.
"I didn't realize you had a brother! Does he live at home with you?"
"He used to," Allie replied, grimacing slightly. "About three months ago they took him away to the hospital. Now he's in a nursing home. The doctor says he may have to stay a long while."
"Why?" Gail asked. "What's the matter with him?"
"He got real nervous and they had to put him away. You see, he used to be Mother's favorite. She never used to play with my dick or crawl into bed with me or anything while Brian was still at home. Sometimes-I'm not sure about this-but sometimes I only think Phyllis married Daddy so she could be near Brian. When she thought they were alone, she was always calling Brian 'honey' and 'lover' and 'sweetheart.' Sometimes I would come home from playing here in the park and I'd find Brian and Mother dancing in the living room. They'd have the lights turned down real low and it would be real romantic..."
"How old is Brian?" Gail asked.
"He's only thirteen," Allie replied. "Only a year older than me. like I was saying, they'd be dancing together with the lights real dim. He'd have his hands up under her skirt, feeling up her bare can while they kind of swayed together, real close. They didn't know I was watching, but I could see everything.
"Anyhow, they were so wrapped up in each other, like, that you could have set off a bomb in the room and they wouldn't have noticed it! Sometimes he'd feel up her ass with one hand while they danced, while his other hand would be inside her dress handling her breasts.
"Once, I noticed his naked dick was sticking out of his pants and poking through her legs while they danced. But she wasn't feeling him up or anything like that. She had both arms around his neck and was kissing him on the mouth and saying, 'Fuck my thighs with that hot cock of yours, Brian. It feels so good having your wonderful young prick sliding between my legs. I could dance forever in your arms, lover!'
"Well anyhow, that's how it was. Then one day Daddy had to go off on a business trip. He was gone five days. During that time, Mother had Brian in bed with her every night. All night. I could hear them giggling and moaning and making the bedsprings squeak like crazy! Brian always looked a wreck the next day. I don't know how he managed to get through the day at school.
"The day before Daddy was due to come back was a Saturday. Mother drove us out someplace on Long Island so we could have a picnic. It was sometime in April and the weather had just begun to turn warm. Both Brian and I were sitting in the front seat with Mother. Brian was sitting right next to Mother, of course, and as soon as we got out on the open road, she ripped his zipper open and started to jerk him off. Brian seemed to enjoy it, all right, but I noticed he didn't come as much as usual. Other times when we'd be out driving, Mother would jerk his cock and his sperm would shoot so high it splashed all over the windshield!
"But not this time. It just oozed out over her hand. She kidded him about it and he smiled, but he didn't say much. When we got to the picnic grounds, we had a nice lunch and afterwards, Mother suggested I go for a walk. I knew what that meant. I went a little ways into the woods, then I turned around and watched them from behind the trees. Mother already had Brian down on his back and was fucking him like crazy. I'd never actually seen people fuck before. I'd watched Mother and Brian do other things but this was the first time I really saw her put his dong inside her. It got boring after a while, though, so I went and had a nice, long walk.
"When I came back, Brian was sitting on the grass with his back up against a tree. Mother had her face buried inside his fly. Brian was sort of crying and laughing at the same time. 'No more, Ma!' he kept saying, 'I can't take any more. Please, Ma-take your mouth off my dick, it's no fun any more!' He was laughing and thrashing around the way a person does when they're being tickled too much. Ati first Mother didn't seem to pay a lot of attention. She kept on sucking him off. She was holding him by the ass so he couldn't get away. Finally, though, Brian began to holler and scream. Mother took her face out of his fly and looked at him. I could see her chin and mouth were all scummy and glistening with Brian's sperm. She had a dazed look in her eyes like she couldn't think of anything but my brother's cock.
"When it finally dawned on her that something was really wrong with him, though, she snapped around in a hurry. Between the two of us we managed to drag Brian into the car even though he was still crying real hysterical-like and thrashing around like a wild animal. I held him still while Mother drove. His pants were still open and his dick was dangling out. All of a sudden, he started to shoot sperm. Honest, I've never seen anything like it in all my life! He sat there between us on the front seat and every couple of minutes his dick would give a big twitch and a gob of thick, yellow scum would shoot out the end and plop onto the floor! Without anybody touching it, I mean.
"That's when Mother really got scared. 'We're not going home, Allie," she told me, 'we're heading straight for the hospital.' And we did. They kept Brian there for three days and then took him to the nursing home. He still acts silly and laughs a lot. He doesn't seem to recognize us when we go to visit him. The therapists have tried to get him interested in basket weaving and wood carving and things like that, but all he wants to do is play with his prick. Sometimes they have to put him in a straightjacket. They have to inject novocaine into his cock to make it numb. It's awful! I hope I never get that way."
Gail was mute as the boy finished his story. He seemed on the verge of tears. She kissed him on his eyelids, saying, "I hope you don't either, dear. You're a wonderfully sweet young fellow and I'm glad now you bounced your basketball against my head. Otherwise we would never have met!"
But, deep inside, she was thinking: Why should his mother have exclusive title to his cock? She isn't even his real mother! There's not a reason in the world why one woman should have so much when others have nothing!
So she drew Allie down beside her on the grass. Her skirt was almost at the level of her breasts and the boy's pants were down around his ankles. Sliding her body atop the boy's, Gail said, "Just he there awhile, darling. I want to see if your cock fits my cunt. Oh, it does! You have a sweet needle-dick, do you know that? Lie still, darling, I know you're tired. Let me do the work. You've never been fucked by anyone but your mother, have you?"
Allie's eyes were glistening as he shook his head.
"All right," Gail went on, "this will give you a chance to compare. You can play with my tits if you want to, dearest. That's right, don't be shy..." Gail began to pump her ass up and down over the boy's slim, fragile form. Her tits were dangling out of the front of her dress, slithering merrily over the boy's face, tickling him and making him laugh.
Suddenly, completely out of nowhere, Gail felt a sharp-pointed woman's heel gouging her backside and she heard a woman's harsh voice exclaim, "What the fuck do you think you're doing to my son? Get up! Get up this instant, or I'll call the police!"
Gail rolled off the boy. She stared bewilderedly up at the young woman who stood over her. The woman, an ash-blonde in her late twenties, was literally trembling with rage as she cursed and spat at Gail. "Get up!" she screamed again, "what kind of a country is this where a mother can't send her son out to play in the park without having him attacked by all sorts of degenerates?"
"We were only playing," Gail mumbled sullenly as she stood up and adjusted her clothing.
"Some play!" the woman screamed. Turning her attention to Allie, she cried, "Did she hurt you, Allie?"
"No," the boy replied, sitting up, "We were only having fun."
"I never heard of such a thing!" his stepmother cried indignantly. "A brazen bitch like this, stripping a boy out here in the public park so she can take advantage of him!"
Gail opened her mouth. She was on the point of saying, "You'd prefer to take advantage of him at home, wouldn't you?" But she realized only too well there was nothing she could say that wouldn't betray the boy. So, darting a final angry glance at the women, Gail stalked out of the bushes and quickly made her way out of the park.
If her pussy had itched before, it was a roaring blast furnace now! Twice this afternoon she had come to the very verge of having her steaming pussy hosed down with the cool stream from a male cock. Twice she had been frustrated. Gail wandered through the increasingly crowded streets and avenues, her mind turbulent, her eyes unseeing. Suddenly the storm, which had been gathering all through the late afternoon hours, struck.
Abruptly roused from her daze by the cold splash of rain, Gail gazed agitatedly around for a place to take shelter For the first time she realized she had walked all the way to Times Square. She stood there, bewildered by the intense commotion of thunderous traffic. The careless throng elbowed her remorselessly as it sought refuge from the downpour. The cold flicker of multi-colored neon signs that screamed unceasingly their invitations to squalid pleasures hurt her eyes.
The rain was now descending in a torrent. Gail was wearing only a flimsy, thin cotton dress with absolutely nothing underneath. She flared scarlet at the abrupt realization that the soaking rain had plastered the gauzy garment flat against her body, revealing every cleft, every protuberance, every outswelling curve in its full, prick-tingling voluptuousness. "Goodness!" she murmured, gazing down at herself, "why-why you can see my nipples right through the fabric as if I were walking down Broadway stark, bare ass naked!" Even the individual strands of her pussy hair were outlined with startling clarity against the whiteness of her skin.
Gail was standing right outside one of the cheap movie houses that line Forty-Second Street. She decided to step inside and risk a boring hour or two till the rain ceased, rather than risk pneumonia. The theater was nearly deserted-only a sprinkling of patrons dotted the orchestra section. It was very dark. Gail quickly found an isolated seat about halfway down, over against the left wall of the theatre. She settled gratefully into its plush softness ... she was really very tired. Only then did she turn her eyes on the screen.
Gail realized instantly that she couldn't have picked a worse place to take her mind off her problems. She cursed herself as she saw that she had inadvertently stumbled into one of the innumerable grind houses in the midtown area that feature "adult films" of the lowest order.
"Oh shit," she murmured as she recognized her mistake. On the screen, a burly man was stripping the clothes from a well-stacked brunette. He brandished a whip in her face. The brunette moaned and pleaded for mercy as she cuddled her lips against his fly...
Gail closed her eyes and settled her head against the back of the seat. She slumped all the way down into her chair, her slim, delightfully sinuous legs stretched out in all their wetly gleaming loveliness. "I'll just close my eyes for a few moments," she promised herself. "I'll rest a short while and then be on my way. This rain can't last more than a half-hour or so." She was bone-tired. The long walk and the nagging frustrations of the afternoon had wrung every last ounce of energy from her fragile body. It was only a matter of seconds before she sank into deep, oblivious slumber.
Gail came awake with a jolt. She had no idea how long she might have been asleep. It must have been more than just a few minutes, judging from the crick she had in her neck.
Shit, she thought, shit, shit, shit.
It took her only the briefest fraction of a second to realize that she was completely bare from neck to shoes! Someone, somehow, had taken a pair of scissors or a knife and neatly slit her dress right down the front, carefully laid back the folds and completely exposed her treasures in plain view! In the flickering light from the screen, the melony ripeness of Gail's tits, the pancake flatness of her dimpled belly, and the coy invitation of her sweetly puckered pussyflesh were a spectacle that far outshone the contrived drivel that pranced across the screen itself!
She did not dare move. Someone in the next seat was having a field day with her pussy. His fingers warily prowled the intriguing landscape of her crotch-sneakily roving the steamy marshes of her wide-gaping cunt, slyly yanking at the spun-glass softness of her downy muff, ecstatically reveling in the delirious slide-chute between pussy and ass-hole. She could hear him breathing hard. She suddenly realized what he was up to. He was actually scooping the intoxicating juices from her generously creaming vagina and licking them off his fingers!
Gail dared to steal a sidewise glance. There-now she could see him. Why, he didn't look as dangerous as she feared! It was a boy about her own age. He was poorly dressed. His tousled red hair probably hadn't seen a comb in weeks and he could have used a deodorant. But there was nothing fierce about him as he hunched over her.
Now he was feeling her tits, cupping them in his palms, and gently squeezing them as a housewife will squeeze the tomatoes when she thinks the grocer isn't looking. She felt her nipples stiffen. They turned to hard little thimbles of succulent flesh right in the young man's fingers. He sensed immediately that she was aware of his hands. He stopped. His startled gaze met her level stare.
In that instant Gail's groping hands met something cold and sharp-edged that had been slid beneath her bare ass. As her fingers closed around it she realized it was the knife he had used to slit her dress open. Suddenly, instinctively, she knew what she had to do. Gail calmly stretched out the knife and slashed the boy's pants from beltline to crotch! The ravaged garment fell to his knees.
"What the-" he began. He was abruptly silent as Gail poised the cold steel knife blade at his balls.
"Come closer," Gail bade him sternly. "Step between my legs-that's right."
The boy was visibly trembling as he stood shamefacedly between Gail's outstretched legs, his pants now tangled about his ankles. She bounced his balls a couple of times on the width of the knife.
"If you so much as try to yell or make one move to get away, I promise you the sweeper will find your marbles on the floor with the rest of the trash when he comes around tonight," Gail .hissed. She touched the point to his crinkly brown bag just to make sure he got the idea.
"Now..." Gail went on, "just what the fuck is the idea of cutting up my dress? Do you realize I spent a hundred dollars for this dress? It was a special pattern, designed to cup my tits so that my nipples would show up very boldly against the fabric. The back was designed in such a way as to make my ass look bigger and to emphasize the crack to make it look irresistible. I can't tell you how many men have come up behind me on the street and goosed my ass just because it looked so enticing in back!"
"I'm sorry-" the boy began. He looked agonizedly down where Gail was menacingly testing the edge of the knife against the base of his dick.
"Sorry isn't enough," Gail replied. She stole a look about her to make sure no one was watching. No one was-the place seemed even emptier than it had earlier. "You filthy degenerate! Do you make a habit of sneaking around to movie houses and slashing girls' dresses? Is that your idea of a good time?"
"N-no!" the boy gulped. "I work nights in the garment district. I unpack shipments. I use the knife in my work. I carry it all the time now, ever since I was mugged on Thirty-Seventh Street. When I came in here this afternoon I had no idea of molesting anybody, honest I didn't!"
"What did you come in here for, then?" Gail sneered. "Not to see this stupid, crummy movie, I'm sure!"
"I came in her to jerk off," he replied, not daring to meet her gaze. "What!" Gail laughed.
"That's right. You must know what kind of place this is. They show sex movies here, nothing else. Guys come in and jerk off and play with themselves while they watch the show. When I saw a young, beautiful girl in here, I couldn't believe my eyes. Usually it's nothing but men. I sat next to you because you made a better show than they got up on the screen. The way you were sitting, your pussy was hanging out below your skirt. I could see it. I could smell it. I-I could even taste it!"
"You could taste it!" Gail blurted, unbelieving.
"Yes..." he murmured. "I-while you were asleep I crept between your legs and licked your pussy. The taste kind of drove me crazy, I guess. I wanted to feel you all over ... I especially wanted to feel your bare tits. I tried to raise your dress up, but you were sitting on part of it. So I got out my knife and slit it up the front. Then I felt you up. That's how it all happened."
"Well, you've got one hell of a nerve!" Gail blazed. She took the knife between his legs and touched the razor-sharp point to his ass-hole. "You certainly have one hell of a nerve! Do you realize you've got me so hot I'm about to throw a fit? You come in here and rip my clothes off my back and then stand in front of me with your bare cock staring me right in the face and the best you can do is apologize! You must do better, than that, young fellow!"
"What can I do?" he asked miserably.
"You can take me to where you live and screw me, that's what you can do," Gail snapped. "Do you live near here?"
"I can't," he replied desperately. "I've got to be on the job in fifteen minutes. I told you I work nights."
"Then you'll fuck me right here in the theatre. Now! Get down on the floor!"
"I can't!" he gasped. "I'm too nervous. You've got me so scared, I can't get it up."
"Oh, you'll get it up!" Gail assured him. Her features were twisted sardonically as she said, "You'll get it up now or you'll never get it up again as long as you live." She tickled his balls with the blade. "Understand? Do something to make it hard. Think dirty thoughts. Jerk your prick. Come on, let me see you jerk your prick!"
Sweat began to pour down the boy's face as he strove frantically to obey. Seizing the pitifully limp lump of flesh between his legs, he commenced to masturbate there in front of Gail. "Come on!" she urged sneeringly. "Jerk it hard! Let me see you wobble the head like the idiot you are. Drool from the mouth! Is this how you do it when you watch the movie? Come on, let me see you play with yourself like you really meant it. After all, that's what you came to this place for, isn't it? Get it up! Oh, you're not jerking hard enough at all. I've seen two-year-olds that could do better than that! No wonder you need a movie to inspire you. Oh shit, you're pitiful. Your cock looks like a slimy little worm-like something you'd find under a rock somewhere. I can see you're going to need help!" Leaning forward, she thrust out her tongue. "Here, masturbate against the tip of my tongue!"
The boy was more than eager to comply. He began to slide his penis against the flickering pink of Gail's tongue. His penis came to full erection almost immediately.
"All right now," she said. Sliding from the edge of her seat, she drew the boy down to the floor with her, maintaining the tip of the knife against his ass-hole all the while. "Now . , . . " she breathed in his ear, "ball me good. And I warn you if I'm not satisfied with your performance I still might cut your dick off and feed it to my cat. Fuck me hard! Make your dick come out my ass-hole!"
Oooh shit, that felt good! Once aroused to full erection, the boy's tool proved to be a ruthless pile driver. Gail's body began to quiver all over, as if she were in the grip of malarial fever. It was filthy on the floor where they grappled. A single glance convinced her of that. It was littered with cigarette butts, crumpled candy wrappers, and semen-soaked handkerchiefs, relics of the day's activities. She even saw sperm dripping to the floor from the hand-held cock in the row ahead as a patron amused himself solitarily-completely oblivious of the live action immediately behind him!
Gail didn't care. The one thing that mattered was that after hours of frustration a man-sized prong was rampaging mercilessly up and down the length of her pleasure pit. "Oh shit yes," she whispered, wrapping her thighs around his bare ass. She forced his head against hers, forced open his lips and compelled him to fuck her mouth with his tongue just as his spring-steel dick was fucking her snatch!
Oh shit, she was finally coming! She could feel the spring steel vibrating ruthlessly inside. Now! Now the gush of his sperm as wave after wave flooded from the tip of his dick and battered against the screaming flesh of her womb. In that instant, totally crazed by desire, spun into delirium by the orgasmic wallop of her climax, she rammed .the handle of the knife all the way up the boy's ass!
It was only the handle, but he sucked in his breath with an intensity that was almost a shout. At that very moment, Gail was conscious of a dark shadow lowering over them. She heard a man's voice exclaim roughly, "Hey! Hey, what's going on in this frigging row?"
Gail and the boy quickly disengaged themselves and struggled to a sitting position. A bald-headed man in his fifties stood over them, shaking his fist with a rage that bordered on apoplexy. "I thought I seen everything since I started managing this theatre," he hollered, "but this takes the cake!" His fist came within half an inch of Gail's nose. "You little whore!" he exclaimed, "if you want to solicit, solicit outside. Get out. Get out!"
Clutching their ravaged clothes about them, they made for the exit. Just as they were about to step into the lobby, however, Gail noticed something that cracked her up completely. She doubled over with laughter.
"What's so funny?" the boy demanded to know, indignantly.
"Feel behind you with your hand," she bade. "Watch it! Be careful! See? You've still got the knife stuck up your ass!" Before the boy could cut himself trying to remove it, she drew him into the ladies' room. It was empty. It looked as though no woman had set foot inside it in a very big time.
"Here," she said, "sit on the edge of the toilet seat. Draw your knees up to your chin. I'll take it out for you." The boy did as she ordered. Perching himself on the very edge of the seat, he leaned back and drew up his legs. Protecting her fingers with a heavy wad of toilet paper, Gail slowly worked the smoothly ribbed handle out of the boy's anus. She wiped it off and handed the knife to him.
"I was just fooling inside there," she confessed with a smile. "I wasn't going to cut your balls off or anything like that. I-I've just had a very trying day and I took my temper out on you. I'm sorry."
"That's okay," he returned her smile. "I'm sorry I cut up your dress. How will you get home?"
"I'll grab a cab. Don't worry about it. How will you get to your job? Your pants are a total loss.';
"Only in front. I'll buy a newspaper right outside the movie house and hold it in front of me all the way to the factory. It's not far-what are you looking at?" He tried to follow the line of her stare as he sat, still doubled up, atop the toilet seat.
"I'm looking at your ass-hole," she replied. "I never realized a man's ass-hole could look so beautiful ... " Seized by a sudden impulse, Gail suddenly swooped her head down and planted her luscious mouth squarely against the pinkish-brown pucker of his totally exposed anus!
"Oh shit," he whispered, clamping his eyes shut in ecstasy. He yanked his knees right up against his chin and slid down a little further on the seat so Gail could have unlimited access to his orifice. She was smothering it with kisses, licking it frenziedly, moaning piteously as she attempted to force her tongue further into the boy's forbidden tunnel. . .
Now, instinctively, he dilated his ass-hole and Gail's tongue dived deep, uttering a grateful little cry as she felt the boy quiver and respond to her urgent advances. While her tongue quested ever more boldly within the hot, tight tunnel, her hand groped for his cock, found it, and began to massage it lovingly. His balls crashed and tumbled unheeded against her cheek as she loudly sucked the hair-rimmed volcano between his buttocks.
At last, Gail raised her head and, with tears in her eyes, said, as she cuddled his dick against her soft, white cheek, "I'd rather kiss your ass than the mouth of any other man I've ever known ... , "
In that instant, his cock exploded, spewing a hot, gluey mass of pearly-white scum against the side of her face. It flooded up nearly to her ear, then began to ooze downward. Gail clutched the spastically-throbbing organ to her cheek as it continued to vomit forth spurt after spurt of hot, syrupy come. She could feel the strong muscles of his splendid rod contract and expand...,contract and expand ... each time gushing another great gob of glistening jelly. She pressed her lips to the virile tool just as the last gob erupted.
"Shit, I love your prick," she moaned, her eyes blinding with joyful tears. From out of a dark void she heard him say, "It's just been beautiful-but I gotta go! I'm already late for work. Do-do you think we could meet again some time?"
She smiled. "Who knows?" she replied. "I'll look for you around this neighborhood if I ever get down here again, all right?"
"All right." Then he was gone.
Gail found a couple of safety pins in her purse. She managed a makeshift repair of her dress so that at least her pussy was covered and her tits weren't more than half exposed. Then she boldly marched past the glowering manager and went out into the street.
As she flitted along Seventh Avenue, trying to hail ,a cab, she noticed that people were staring curiously. At first she thought it was her mangled dress. Then she realized her cheek and chin were still dripping with the stranger's come!
She couldn't repress a blush as she took a hankie from her purse and wiped it away. That night, as she fell exhausted into bed, she thought, what a wonderful day this has been! This is how life should be like, unpredictable, exciting. I can never thank Madge enough for opening my eyes!
She giggled as she pictured Madge's reaction to her recital of the evening's adventures. She just couldn't wait!
CHAPTER FIVE
Madge just couldn't control herself, and she continued to laugh. After a few minutes she restrained herself and told Gail that she thought it was wonderful. Gail merely smiled and felt pretty good about the whole thing.
Madge looked at Gail and then laughed again. "You mean to tell me that you actually sat his ass on the toilet and rimmed him right there in the movie house?" Madge laughed again, as a ludicrous image filled her mind.
"Yes," Gail said, "and it was the best damn rim-job that I ever gave anybody, if I do say so myself." It had to be the best, for it was the only one that she had ever given; of course she didn't want Madge to know. She was afraid that Madge would get the wrong idea about her if she knew the real truth.
Gail had had quite an experience, putting her lush tongue into the boy's ass-hole and tasting his semen. All that had really changed her outlook on things.
Madge brushed an imaginary crumb off of her bosom and told the girl that she was welcome to stay for some more coffee, but that she had to go.
Gail asked where she was headed and Madge replied that she was doing charity work for the blind. She read for them at a place called The New Light. Gail asked what sort of thing she was doing.
"I've been reading for a man who's studying for the bar exam. He's very brilliant and retains everything. It's more rewarding than just making tapes. I'm taking the car. Can I drop you some place?"
"No thanks," Gail replied. "I've got some shopping to do. And then I've got an appointment to talk to Mr. Sealey."
"Sealey?" Madge frowned questioningly.
"You remember my mentioning him," Gail declared as she followed her friend down the corridor to the elevator. "Old Mr. Sealey, my father's attorney. He's trustee for my estate."
Madge grimaced. "I remember. You pointed him out to me once on the street. He must be about 104 years old! What does he want? Is he ready to turn over all that cash to you?"
Gail barked a short, sarcastic laugh. "I doubt it," she remarked. "He's got something on his mind, though. He phoned me earlier this morning, asked me to drop by around one o'clock. We'll see."
They said goodbye in the lobby. Then Madge phoned downstairs to the garage man and asked him to bring up the car. It was a trim, olive green Ferrari. By now Madge had paid out almost as much in speeding fines as the original cost of the car, but she didn't care. It had everything she wanted in a car: looks, speed, pick-up. It made her feel like a panther in a herd of cows.
Fifteen minutes later she pulled up just outside her destination. The New Light was a great, rambling, chocolate brown structure on Manhattan's West Side. It had originally belonged to a small religious college. Now it was devoted to the relief and assistance of the blind. It had a staff of paid instructors who taught useful arts like weaving, carving, music, and other skills that might help blind persons function effectively in the world and overcome their handicap.
In addition, many well-to-do persons like Madge Winthrop gave freely of their money, time, and services on a regular basis to help the work of the charity-supported institution.
Madge checked in at the desk just inside the door. "Go right up to Room 504," the receptionist instructed her, with a smile. "Mr. Ferris has already arrived. He's waiting for you."
Just as she entered the elevator, Madge collided with a rather dynamic man of about thirty-five. "Oh, good morning, Mr. Millner!" she cried. "Excuse me for bumping into you, but my law student is waiting for me. I'm late."
Mr. Millner smiled as he went on his way. He was the director of The New Light Institute. He was fairly new on the scene, having been hired only within the last three weeks on the strength of his brilliant work at a similar institution in San Francisco. He replaced old Mr. Sturgis, who had been growing increasingly infirm and was half blind himself!
Madge alighted at the fifth floor and literally ran to her appointment. Bursting in at the door, she cried, "I'm sorry to be late, Mr. Ferris. Have you been waiting long?"
Ted Ferris smiled. He sat rather primly on a hard chair with a book on his lap. "Not at all, Mrs. Winthrop," he replied in his quiet, cultured voice. "I just got here myself." He held out the book. "I'm ready whenever you are," he said.
Madge flashed him her most brilliant smile as she took the book. She couldn't help lavishing her most winning smiles and gestures on him, even though they were lost on his blindness. It just seemed the natural thing to do. What a fine-looking man! About twenty-eight years of age, of medium height. He had a narrow, thoughtful face and the kind of dark complexion that made Madge certain he must have Spanish blood somewhere in his background.
She threw him a final glance before she opened the book at the point where they had left off at the last session. She couldn't help wondering how he always managed to be so neatly dressed and groomed. Who was it that tied his tie for him so precisely? Who parted and combed his hair with such meticulous care? Who matched his shirt with his suit? Certainly he couldn't manage these things on his own. Was he living with a girl? She wished she could pry the answer from him. But he seemed unwilling to discuss his personal life on the few occasions when she had tried to make small talk.
Madge read for about twenty minutes. At the end of that time, Ted Ferris said, "Thank you, Mrs. Winthrop. Let's see if I can play that back to you now. I'm going to summarize what you just read. Please stop me whenever you see I've missed a point."
Madge put the book aside and simply listened while Ted began to summarize the text. But her mind wandered almost at once. Her eyes roved greedily over his neatly masculine form. He had to be living with someone. Only a lover could have groomed him so beautifully! And he didn't seem queer. No, the woman's touch was obvious! She wondered what they did in bed. Did she have to show him where to put it? Was she blind, too? If she was a sighted person, was she dominant? Did she, perhaps, sometimes force him to perform sexual acts that were disagreeable or repugnant? Who knew? Who knew what went on behind the doors of such a household-perhaps very strange, very bizarre things!
Her speculations excited Madge more with each passing moment. Sitting there, absolutely alone with this fine-looking young man, she began to fantasize situations in which she and he would explore sex to its utmost limits. As her imagination roamed, Madge felt the need for fulfillment. Unbuttoning her blouse all the way down the front, she commenced to play with her tits. She spit on the nipples to lubricate them, then rolled them between her fingers. She cupped her oddly-shaped breasts in her hands, squeezed them and mauled them as she imagined Ted licking and sucking them.
The young man continued to recite, entirely oblivious of the obscene little drama being played out before his eyes. Before his poor, dark, unseeing eyes! Now Madge had lifted her skirt. Skimming her panties down below her knees, she stuffed three fingers up her vagina and began to masturbate furiously. All the time, the young man sat stiffly in his chair, continuing to speak of cases, precedents, and other law matters with the utmost seriousness.
Scarcely three feet in front of him Madge sat, both tits spilling lasciviously out the front of her blouse, swinging, bouncing, the delightful molds of jelly-like flesh jittering madly with every stroke of her deep-thrusting fingers as they roamed familiarly among the swamps and morasses of her pulpy cunt folds. A tangy, crystalline fluid ran along her thighs and ripped onto the floor. Her legs were scissored as wide as she could get them and she was bent nearly double, her face nearly grazing her twat as her ecstasy mounted.
"Is there a naked woman in this room?" Mr. Ferris' voice cracked like a sudden whip.
"What?" Madge literally could not believe her ears. She raised her head. "What?"
"I said, is there a naked woman here?" he repeated. His tones were sharp. She had never heard him speak in any but the gentlest of tones. "I smell something," he went on. "It smells like a naked vagina. It couldn't be anything else. My sense of smell is very keen. Why didn't you inform me another woman had entered the room, Mrs. Winthrop? And why is she in the nude?"
Madge sat for a full half minute, her head bowed in shame, before she found the strength to reply. "There's no other woman in this room, Mr. Ferris," she said at last. "Only me."
His face went tense as he said, "Do you mean, is it possible that-that-"
"Yes," she finished for him. "It's my pussy you just got a whiff of. I'm not naked. Not entirely. My tits are hanging out and my skirt is up around my waist. People tell me I have luscious tits, Mr. Ferris. And they say my pussy is like a piece of delicious, tree-ripened fruit, very fleshy and juicy and aromatic. It's me you smell. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to know. I thought it was my little secret."
"But why? Why have you exposed yourself in front of me? I just don't-"
"I've been playing with myself," Madge admitted softly. "I've been sitting here, finger-fucking myself ever since you let me stop reading. You're a very attractive man, Mr. Ferris. Ever since we met two weeks ago, I've been wondering what you were like in bed. I've wondered how big your cock was. I've thought how beautifully that handsome, narrow head of yours would fit between my thighs. I'm sorry, Mr. Ferris, I know I shouldn't talk to you like this. But just tell me one thing, this girl you're living with, is she good to you? She better be. You deserve the best!"
Mr. Ferris' tenseness evaporated in a hearty laugh. "I'm not living with any girl!" he cried. "At least not the kind of girl you have in mind. I live with my mother. I don't have a girl friend."
"But if you don't have a girl friend, how do you know when you smell pussy?"
He laughed again. "I've been around," he admitted. "You've got to understand I wasn't always this way. I was engaged to be married when I lost my sight in an automobile accident seven years ago." He paused. When he spoke again, his tones were tinged with bitterness. "When the girl learned I'd never see again, she dropped me like a hot potato! Since then, I've never so much as dated a girl. It would be ridiculous for me to even think a woman could find me attractive, now."
Madge's heart went slushy soft as she saw the tragic look that flitted across his features. "It's not ridiculous at all!" she cried. "And I wouldn't waste any time brooding about your fiancee. Good riddance is what I say! You'll find someone, I know you will. You won't always be living with your mother."
He shrugged. "It's kind of you to say that," he said. "But I'd rather not even think about women at this time. Will you continue reading, please? I have a great deal of work to cover in the next few weeks."
Madge swallowed hard. "We can read any time," she protested. "If you don't pass your bar exams this year, you'll pass them the next. It can wait. But there are other things that can't wait. You're still young and attractive enough to make a girl cream in her pants. Look what you've done to me! But you won't always be, handsome. Let me help you! Let me introduce you to some girls. Let me help you break out of your shell!"
He managed a thin wisp of a smile. "You really are very nice, Mrs. Winthrop," he said. "Could I, could I just run my fingers over your face a moment? I haven't the slightest idea what you look like at this point. Would you let me do that?"
"Of course," Madge replied. Inching her chair closer, she took his right hand and touched it to her face. "Go ahead," she said.
He ran his fingers lightly over her features. He briefly touched her hair and neck. Then he said, "I didn't realize you were such a pretty woman. You have slim, aristocratic features I've always admired."
"Thank you," Madge smiled. "But don't evade the issue. What's the verdict? Will you allow me to introduce you to some girls?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Thanks, but no."
"Perhaps you need to have your memory refreshed," Madge asserted steadily. "You admit its been seven years since you dated a girl. Perhaps you need a strong reminder as to what they look like. I'm a girl, Mr. Ferris. Refresh your memory."
"I don't know what you mean."
"You know what I mean. You've already examined my face. There's much more to a woman besides the face."
"I can't imagine what you're suggesting!"
"You know what I mean. How about those lovely, soft, kissable, suckable things that decorate a woman's chest? My tits are hanging out. You wouldn't even have to unbutton my blouse. They're hanging only an inch from your face."
"I won't. I don't want to hear about it!"
"And that's only the beginning. If you could see, Mr. Ferris, you'd know that I've pulled my skirt up over my waist and allowed my panties to droop to my knees. Now I'm taking them off. Now I'm entirely bare underneath. If you could see, you'd have a close-up view of my blonde pussy. But why do you have to see it? You have sensitive fingers. If you passed your fingertips over my belly and my cunt and my thighs, if you felt the softness of my flesh and the wetness of my pussy lips and the smoothness of my ass you'd say who needs eyes! How much do you know about women, anyway, Mr. Ferris? Take me, for example. The lips of my cunt are big and fat and spongy. My cunt is like an enormous peach that someone has carefully slit with a sharp knife and folded back the skin a little ways, and then pried open the juicy, flavorful meat. It even smells and tastes like a peach, at least that's what my male friends tell me. Of course, maybe they're just flattering me, I don't know! Why don't you tell me, Mr. Ferris? Let me sprinkle some of my cunt juice on your lips. Tell me if there's anything offensive about it!"
Madge delved her hand between her legs. It came up dripping with her sticky honey. She smeared some on the man's unwary lips. He started to wipe it away with his sleeve. Then his tongue flicked out and tasted it gingerly. "Have mercy, Mrs. Winthrop," he groaned. "Don't you realize what you're doing to me?"
"As I was saying," Madge went on imperturbably, "my twat looks so big and wet and swampy on the outside, that it looks as if you could just fall in and drown if you weren't careful! But inside I'm as tight as a thirteen-year-old. How long has it been since you've had a thirteen-year-old girl, Mr. Ferris?"
"I-I've never had intercourse with an adolescent. The very idea repels me. I do have some principles, you know!"
"Oh, come on," Madge taunted him. "I don't believe that. I'll bet you were quite a tit-twister when you were a boy. But it's still not too late, you know. Blind people have parties, don't they? I know you do. How's a person to know another person's age if they can't see him? I'll bet there are lots of teenagers at those parties. And I'll bet lots goes on, too. After all, who's going to know if a guy suddenly lifts a girl's skirt and starts to handle her pussy? Who's to know if a girl reaches out and zips a boy's fly down and takes out his dick? So what's to prevent a well-spoken man like yourself from engaging a twelve or thirteen-year-old in conversation and then, when you feel the moment is ripe, fucking her wherever she happens to be sitting or standing?
"But I was starting to tell you about my own pussy, how it's as tight as a young girl's. Let me show you what I mean-" She gripped Mr. Ferris' reluctant hand and guided it within the pulpy lips of her soupy-wet vulva. Then, seizing two fingers, she slammed them all the way inside her. "Didn't I tell you I was tight?" she breathed, clutching his hand in an iron grip while he struggled to drag it loose. Oh, it felt delicious having a man's fingers twisting and writhing inside her vagina like two maniacal snakes! It was almost as good as a screw with his long, sensitive fingers scraping, jerking, floundering about, diddling her clitoris, battering the yearning folds of her pussy lips and all the time setting up a slurpy, sloshy racket that could almost be heard in the corridors outside.
Her teeth set, her face a mask of pure lascivious desire, Madge gasped. "Was I right? Am I tight? Isn't my pussy as tight as a little girl's?"
Finally Mr. Ferris succeeded in extricating his hand. "Please, Mrs. Winthrop!" he cried. "Suppose someone should hear us in here? Suppose someone should come in?"
"Don't worry about that," she quickly rejoined. "Nobody ever comes up to this floor. You could commit murder and nobody would discover it for a week. But tell me, am I refreshing your memory? Are you beginning to remember what women are like? Heavens, Mr. Ferris, if you lost your eyesight seven years ago, you've missed the greatest era ever in asses! I mean, its gotten to be a contest with young women to see how brazen they can be in wearing skirts that barely reach up to the bottoms of their crotches, and letting their panties creep up into their cracks so their buttocks hang out for the whole world to see! But I'm sure you know all that, Mr. Ferris."
"No ... no-"
"Oh, you've got to be kidding! Do you mean to tell me you've never groped your way onto a bus or along the sidewalk and suddenly felt your hands fumbling with some sweet young thing's soft, dainty rear end? Sure you have, you sly thing! I'll bet you made the most of it, too. What female is going to protest if she suddenly finds an attractive blind man feeling her up by accident."
"I never did."
"You mean to say its been all of seven years since you've handled a woman's can? Since you've run your hands up underneath her skirt, fondled the rear of her thighs a little, played with her garters and garter belt a minute, then slowly delved your fingers inside her panties, admiring the soft, slippery feel of the nylon, then sinking your fingernails into those two warm, squishy cushions that every woman carries around to sit on? Feeling your hands jerk and slither as she contracted her ass muscles to show you how much she loved having you explore around back there! Oh, Mr. Ferris, if it's been that long, you mustn't lose another minute!"
Once more she took his hands firmly in hers. She guided them around behind her back while she pressed her hips almost against his face. She let his hands rest lightly against the moist tops of her buttocks while she whispered, "Go ahead, Mr. Ferris, feel them up. Do anything to them you wish. Squeeze them, maul them, pinch them. My ass is yours for whatever you want to do to it."
Now she bent her body forward, allowing her breasts to graze ever so lightly against his face. "Ooh! I didn't mean to do that!" she squealed.
"But now that I have, well, why not go all the way? Listen, Mr. Ferris-" and here she bent very low, almost speaking in his ear. "I'm afraid I sound like a horrible slut to you. Do I?"
He gulped and remained silent.
Madge allowed the custardy softness of her tits to crawl with spidery slowness up and down the man's face, back and forth, against his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Then she said, "Maybe you're right, Mr. Ferris. Maybe I am being too daring. Perhaps we should get back to the reading. Would you prefer that?"
Mr. Ferris remained immobile, his face up-tilted, his mouth slightly open, his expression curiously blank. His fingers remained anchored in her ass. Now, hesitantly, his lips began to quest for her nipple. It found the crinkly little protuberance and held it.
Madge began to feed the immense sausage of her breast into his mouth. Very deliberately, like a mother lovingly coaxing food into a weary child, she nursed the succulence of her breast into the blind man's starved mouth.
"Eat it," she urged gently. "Lick it, chew it, whatever you like, Mr. Ferris. Take my tit all the way into your mouth, if you like. Lick it all over first, then suck it in until my nipple is all the way inside your throat. No, please don't stop feeling my can. My ass is so hot with love for you, Mr. Ferris, and your cool hands feel so good."
She gazed down, her breathing becoming more anguished as she watched him fumble with his zipper, then extricate his penis from the folds of his underclothing with maddening slowness.
"Why, it's dripping!" she cried. "You naughty fellow. You didn't come in your pants, did you? Oh no, I see it's only the pre-come. I'm glad for that. Let's do this often, shall we? You've got a lot of lost time to make up, don't forget. And from now on, we won't have to meet here. You can come to my apartment where we'll be much more cozy and comfortable, and where we'll never have to worry about anyone blundering in on us."
But in fact, someone had already blundered in on them, although neither wasj aware of it. Precisely two minutes earlier, the institute's director, Norman Millner, had arrived outside the door and, hearing voices, had stopped to investigate.
Mr. Millner, as director, was one of the very few people at the institute in a position to know that none of the rooms in the building was truly private. It was not necessary to open a door to see everything that occurred within. The former owners of the building, an extremely puritanical religious sect, had equipped each and every door with a wide-angled peep hole, adroitly concealed behind a brass numeral plate.
Mr. Millner had not truly intended to spy. When he took over the chief post at the institute only three weeks earlier, he had become worried at the obvious lack of security. There were no guards and if the receptionist happened to leave her post for a moment, an intruder could easily enter. "We have to protect these handicapped people," he notified the board of directors at their first meeting. "Let's get some guards in here. Until we do, I'm going to try and keep an eye on things myself."
But when he appointed himself to the post of part-time policeman, Mr. Millner hadn't the slightest idea he'd be called on to break up a scene like the present one. He went white with anger as he saw Madge feed the glowing whiteness of her tit into the blind man's throat, while Mr. Ferris, in turn, thrust his hands ever more boldly into the delectable nooks and crevices of her lasciviously writhing crotch.
What the hell do they think this is, a whore house? He was muttering furiously under his breath. He moved to wrench open the door, then he paused.
As he well knew, Carlton Winthrop, Madge's husband, was one of the most conscientious supporters of The New Light Institute. Every year, without solicitation, Carlton Winthrop had come across with a check for twenty thousand dollars. Would it be wise to antagonize the Winthrops?
And yet, how far could he let Madge go? It was obvious, as Millner listened at the door, that she had enticed Mr. Ferris. It was obvious that she had cold-bloodedly bared her body and served it up to the young man like a rich, juicy steak on a silver platter. Charity? Even charity has its limits.
He stood there in the corridor, fists clenched, desperately trying to come to some decision. A sudden squeal of feminine laughter from inside brought his eye to the peephole once more. What he saw caused him to flush fiery red.
Madge was giggling uproariously as she said, "Oh, you really are out of practice, Mr. Ferris! You bit my tit. Do you realize that? Look, I'll show you the tooth marks!" Dragging her saliva-sopping boob from the deepest recesses of the man's gullet, she plopped it mischievously against his face. "Oh, I forgot, you can't see them!" she cried. "But they're there, take my word for it. Just for that, I'm going to punish you. I'm going to make you kiss my ass. No, apologies won't do!"
Bending nearly double, Madge saucily thrust the split cushiony melon of her luscious rear into Mr. Ferris' face. "Now," she said imperiously, "do you know what I'm going to force you to do, sir? I'm going to compel you to kiss my ass-hole while I reach all the way between my legs and jerk your prick. And you can be sure I won't be too gentle, either! Not after the way you bit my poor tit, you naughty, naughty thing!"
Outside, Mr. Millner stood aghast as he watched Madge flex her body completely double to reach through her knees and seize the man's stiffly straining club. She then commenced to jerk it roughly. Not that Mr. Ferris appeared to be suffering terribly! On the contrary, he seemed in seventh heaven as his mouth and tongue rampaged freely up and down the bushy ravine of Madge's ass crack, delving deeper and deeper through the matted tangle of hair as it strove desperately toward the jeweled treasure of her ruby pink ass-hole so tightly snuggled beneath her blonde thicket of curly crotch hair and now awash with torrents of sweat.
"Oooh!" she squealed again. "Now I know you've been lying to me, you bad thing, you. Your mouth feels completely at home in my ass. You've done this before and not too long ago either!"
Norman Millner stood outside the door, his eyes clamped tightly shut, his nails digging into his palms in an agony of frustration. "Shit ... " he muttered. "Holy shit!" He walked toward the elevator like an automaton. A monstrous erection threatened to rupture his zipper at any second.
He was still convulsed on the torture rack of indecision, but now it had nothing to do with Madge Winthrop. His real problem was Francine Blair.
Francine Blair was a lovely young blind woman-in her early twenties, Millner guessed-who was studying music at the institute. She was well on her way to becoming a virtuoso violinist. She found it convenient to practice her instrument at the institute since the other residents at her hotel complained of the noise. She practiced every day from ten in the morning until three in the afternoon in one of the special sound-proofed music room; on the fourth floor.
Norman Millner had had a hard-on for Francine Blair from the very first time he set eyes on her. Since Francine had no roommate or parent to guide her, she frequently left her hotel room in a shockingly undressed state. Her sole concern was for her music. On arising each morning, she would hastily devour a cold breakfast of juice and rolls in her room, fling whatever garments first came to hand on her amply endowed frame, then rush off to the institute, violin case in one hand, her white cane in the other.
Often, therefore, her magnificently molded breasts were half falling out the front of her negligently buttoned blouse. Since she never took time to don lingerie, and since many of her skirts and dresses were of some cheap, nearly transparent cotton, the most intimate details of her breathtakingly sculptured anatomy were often displayed with a clarity that would have been termed brazen in a sighted person. Her habit, too, of sitting on the bus with her voluptuously contoured legs gaping wide, her rust-red pussy hair flaring like a bonfire between her thighs, caused many a mesmerized male to drift many blocks beyond his customary stop every morning.
Every day for three weeks, Norman Millner had fought a solitary battle with himself. Every day he had allowed himself to visit the music room, to chat amicably a minute or two with Francine, then to move on to business. Until this morning, Mr. Millner had never seriously considered the possibility of losing his self-restraint. But now, now with the memory of Madge Winthrop's insolently naked body fresh in his mind, with the image of Mr. Ferris' tongue and mouth romping audaciously over Madge's breasts and ass, and with the searing picture of her hand deliriously jerking and twisting his purple-knobbed prong with a reckless frenzy that threatened to snap it off at the base, made Mr. Millner turn weak as water inside.
He felt like a man in a dream as he left the elevator at the fourth floor. His feet and hands were numb as he fumbled with the doorknob a moment, then silently opened it and went inside where Francine was diligently rehearsing her scales. He licked his lips. "Oh, take me out of here," he prayed. "Save me from temptation. Make me turn and walk out of here. I'm weak, make me strong for just three seconds. Give me the strength to walk out of here and not come back. Not today. Not ever-"
He closed his eyes and waited for divine intervention. None came. When he reopened his eyes, his lust was a blast furnace under full draft. He stepped toward Francine.
That morning, the girl was wearing a thin blouse of cheap satin-like material. Her nipples and enormous aureoles were like great hot coals, threatening to scorch their way through the sleazy fabric. Her pussy hair was a scarlet beacon, only dimly obscured by the gauzy, tissue-like material of her miniskirt. Her splendid bare legs swayed as she played the bow exuberantly over the strings of her instrument and her tits threatened to swarm out the half-unbuttoned front of her blouse with every sweep of her arm.
Mr. Millner took another step. He fell silently to his knees before her, lifted the hem of her skirt, and planted a reverent kiss on her thigh just below where her magnificently outcurved belly became transmuted, by slow magic, into the wetly gaping wound of her intoxicatingly fragrant pussy.
He knelt there, head bowed slightly, waiting for lightning to strike. Waiting for the shriek or protest that would spell doom to all his ambitions. Anticipating the complaint, the formal charges by the board of directors, the inevitable demand for his resignation. If he were lucky! The girl could press criminal charges, he was well aware. She was within her rights. What he had done was wrong, wrong, wrong. ...
But somehow, lightning never struck. Instead there came a gentle gurgle, an amused sigh. "Is that you, Mr. Folger?" Francine asked softly, allowing her arms to fall to her sides.
Millner was thunderstruck. Fully half a minute passed before he regained the power to speak. Then, forgetting all caution, he asked sharply, "Folger? My music director? What made you think it was Folger?"
The girl started. Her mouth fell open. Then, obviously shaken, she stammered, "Oh-oh, is that you, Mr. Millner? Heavens, I was so sure it was Mr. Folger!" In her confusion she dropped her instrument. It fell with a thump at her feet.
Millner rose to his feet. "It felt like Folger's mouth, is that what you're saying, Miss Blair?" he stormed. "Is it customary for Mr. Folger to kiss you on the thighs'-between the legs? Is that the sort of thing that goes on in my music department?"
The girl started to cry. Her sightless eyes sought about the room for some support, some encouragement. Panic-stricken, she blurted, "Yes, yes, he does. But I don't mind! Please, Mr. Millner, don't make trouble for him!"
"Make trouble for him!" Millner raged. "He's fired. As of this minute. The degenerate! Of all the nerve!"
"Fired?" she said anxiously. "Oh no, please! Mr. Folger never hurt me or anything! He was always gentle with my pussy. Not like some of the others-"
"Not like some of the others!" Millner was struck completely dumb for about fen seconds while he struggled to collect his thoughts. "What others? Do you mean to say-"
At that moment, the door opened softly behind him and a man started to enter. He had no more than crossed the threshold than he caught sight of the director. His face flooded with color. He tried to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He attempted to back away, bat Millner caught him up short.
"Slade!" Millner barked. "What are you doing in here? I'm not aware that your handicrafts department has been transferred to the fourth floor!"
"I-I guess I must have got off the elevator at the wrong floor," Mr. Slade stuttered. "I don't know how I could have made such a mistake!"
"We'll discuss it later," Millner rejoined icily. "See me in my office in half an hour, Slade!"
"Yes, sir," Slade murmured wretchedly. He withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Millner turned to the unhappy girl once more. "All right now, Miss Blair," he began, "please don't upset yourself. I realize you're an innocent party in all this. But I've got to get to the bottom of things. A lot of things are happening here at the institute that disturb me very much. Tell me about Mr. Slade. What does he do to you? I want to know everything. In detail!"
"Well," she said faintly, "the first thing he usually does when he enters is to sneak up behind me and put his arms around me. He unbuttons my blouse or slides my dress down over my shoulders and starts to play with my breasts. I don't mind it, honestly I don't! He thrusts his knees against the back of mine and sort of rubs his whole body against me for a minute. Then he lifts my skirt and I can hear him unbuckle his belt. He drops his pants and I can feel his huge cock sliding through my legs from behind. At that point, I take his dick in my hand and play with it for a minute. Ihen he hands me my violin and I go on practicing, just like before. And while I practice, he's running his hands over my tits and belly and fucking my crotch without actually putting his penis inside me, because he's still standing behind me and only the tip of his penis ever touches my pussy."
"How long does this go on?" Millner cried incredulously.
"Sometimes as long as an hour. I don't really object because I can practice just as well with his cock sliding in and out between my legs as I could if I were alone. Better sometimes because it can get awfully lonely just practicing, practicing all the time."
"Oh!" Millner exclaimed, shaking his head. "Is-is there anyone else besides Folger and Slade?"
"Well ... " she hesitated uncertainly. "Well, yes, there's Mr. Shaw, the speech therapist. He's never told me his name, but I know who it is because he wears this special imported shaving lotion you can identify a block away. He's sort of sneaky, I'll admit that. He follows me into the ladies' room and gets right into the booth with me. After I've finished pissing, he puts his face between my legs and licks my pussy hair and sucks me right where I piss. Doesn't that seem like an odd thing to do?"
"It does," Millner gulped. "Is that all? Folger and Slade and Shaw?"
Her face clouded. "There are others," she said unhappily, "but I can't give you their names because I don't know them, but there are others. Lots .of them. There's one man who brings me lunch whenever he comes. Hamburgers and malteds and things like that. He finger-fucks me while I eat and I jerk his cock. It seems like a strange way to spend your lunch hour, but I don't really mind because he's so gentlemanly and well-spoken. He says he'd give his soul to have me masturbate him because I have true violinist fingers-long and slim and tapering. He says he'd rather have me jerk him off than get fucked by the sexiest movie star in Hollywood. He's very flattering and I always feel perked up after an hour with him. Of course your fingers do get kind of globpy after a while. There I am, trying to munch on a hamburger that I can feel he's shot his scum all over, and he's trying to eat a cheese sandwich that's gotten absolutely drenched in my pussy juice while we were fooling around, but I don't mind if he doesn't."
"I see," Millner declared grimly. "It looks as though I'll have to fire the whole staff then! It looks to me very much as if every single male on the payroll has been coming in here and taking advantage of you. Well, a new broom sweeps clean-"
The girl's face was anguished as she protested. "Oh no, please, you can't do that. They haven't done anything bad!"
"Haven't done anything bad! Isn't it bad enough when a man walks in on a handicapped girl and lifts up her dress and-"
"And kisses her on her pussy," Francine reminded him. "They weren't doing anything you wouldn't do. If I hadn't spoken out when I did, you'd have kissed me between the legs again, wouldn't you? And then you'd have gotten bolder. You'd be fucking me right this minute, wouldn't you?" He was silent.
"Wouldn't you?" she repeated.
She was right. He'd forgotten all about that. The others-they were no more depraved than himself.
"If you blame anyone, blame me," the girl pleaded. She came toward him, her steps halting. She groped, unseeing. "Please, Mr. Millner, if you'll agree not to make trouble for those men, I'll do anything you ask!" She found him. She rested her cheek against his shoulder for a moment. "Oh, what broad shoulders!" she exulted. She ran her fingers lightly over his face. "And what strong, rugged features! A strong man like you couldn't be petty. You wouldn't be spiteful enough to fire some men just because they give way to weakness sometimes. You're not a weak person yourself, so you don't understand weakness in others-"
Millner drew hastily away. "Don't touch me!" he cried, withdrawing halfway across the room. "I've got to be business-like about this-"
Francine groped blindly after him. She took one faltering step, then another, and with that she stumbled over the piano bench and careened, sprawling, to the floor! Millner stared down at her, his eyes saucer-like at the sudden vision of bare legs, bare thighs, voluptuously rounded ass and pussy that suddenly revealed themselves as her minuscule skirt shot above her hips and her breasts tumbled out the front of her blouse!
"Shit!" he groaned as he watched her contort her gloriously contoured limbs in an effort to rise from the carpet. Her belly and her crotch formed one vast cup, a great, soft cup from which a man might drink himself into blind oblivion. Her skin was white underneath her dress, whiter than he had ever dreamed, and the rust-red pubic hair that erupted in a curly tangle just below her bellybutton, then sprawled in lush profusion all throughout her crotch and the moist, mysterious in-between areas of her exuberantly full-fleshed can, finally merging once more into the whiteness of her satiny thighs-her pubic hair was drenched and sopping with rich, aromatic juices!
Cursing, praying, mumbling incoherent prayers to unknown gods, Millner fell to his knees, ripping open his fly as he did so. Moaning, he launched his parched tongue against the sweet ripeness of her upward billowing cunt, felt it skid along the slick track between her legs and felt his avidly gulping mouth come to rest against the pulsating crater of her ass-hole. Simultaneously his hand delved furiously inside his fly to extricate his genitals. Within a second, he had freed his spring-steel cock and launched it in a surprise attack against her astonished lips!
The overwhelmed girl let the turgid rod batter its way past her lips. She let it toboggan down her throat, nearly veering into her gullet. Then, slowly, delicately, she withdrew it from her mouth and began to suck the puckery tip of
Millner's foreskin as one sucks soda from a straw. "This is how it all began," she murmured dreamily as she cuddled Millner's cock against her flaming cheek for a moment. "I stumbled and fell one afternoon while I was taking my harmony lesson with Mr. Folger. I'm afraid I exposed the whole works when I fell. He couldn't seem to help himself. He was down on me in two seconds flat, spreading my legs with his hands, ramming his cock inside me, practically tearing my ass apart in his eagerness to cram as much of himself inside me as was humanly possible. By the time we were through, he had his cock all the way up my pussy, two fingers up my ass-hole and his tongue and lips grinding inside my mouth. He was licking the inside of my mouth, chewing my tongue and my lips and sucking the breath from my lungs, all at the same moment!"
She hesitated a moment, then smiled reminiscently. "I liked it," she said. "I came three places all at once, would you believe it? In my pussy, in my ass-hole, and in my mouth, all at once. You might not believe a person can come in her mouth, but she can, if a man handles his tongue right."
Millner made no answer, but continued to guzzle the rich feast that sweltered between her legs. Francine put her mouth to the crinkly nozzle of his foreskin and commenced to suck once more. He was not long in coming. When she felt his turgid dick begin to pulse beneath her gently stroking fingers, when she felt the first salty drop ooze from his glistening knob, she clamped her teeth down on the very tip of the foreskin and allowed the huge charge of steaming sperm to vomit convulsively into the sac. She waited until the entire load had erupted and his heaving penis had subsided to only the slightest tremble. Then, still retaining her grip on the sac with her teeth, she commenced to mastrubate his dick with fast, almost brutal strokes of her slim, cool fingers. She felt his balls churn, his rod begin to shiver and pulse once more, and again she felt the hot charge of living seed heave itself into the sac of his foreskin. By now, the sac was straining with its seething cargo of reeking sperm, threatening to split with its double load of simmering come.
"What are you doing to me?" Millner moaned. "My dick, it feels like it's going to bust open any minute!"
Francine freed the tip of his foreskin with a suddenness that brought a yell to Millner's lips, and allowed the explosive charge to riot within her mouth. The steaming scum spattered against the roof of her mouth, churned against her teeth, and dribbled from her lips.-She hastily scooped the dribbles from her chin with her fingers and licked them up. Then she swallowed the entire gluey mass in one gulp. A smile of blissful satisfaction slowly spread across her face.
They lay there a while, neither speaking a word. Then Francine raised herself to a sitting position. "Well," she ventured sadly, "I guess I'll have to find some place else to practice my violin, won't I?"
"Yes," Millner rejoined shortly as he sat up. His eyes seemed welded to her unhappy face.
"I knew it," she murmured. She brushed away a tear that appeared at one corner of her eye. "I knew it. I guess I deserve it. I should take more care in my dress. I shouldn't allow myself to be handled by every man that comes into the room. I know all that. But I also know what it is to be very lonely and unhappy. I thought that maybe these men were lonely and unhappy, too. I didn't see any harm in sharing a few minutes of happiness. But I guess I was wrong. I'll go. Only promise me one thing, Mr. Millner."
"What's that?"
"Promise me you won't fire any of those men. They meant me no harm."
"I promise. You can believe me, Miss Blair. I'll take no reprisals against any of them."
"All right."
Millner helped her regain her feet. Then he did an amazing thing. He took her in his arms and, crushing her semen-smeared cheek to his own, he declared, "Francine, I meant it when I said I don't want you to practice here anymore. But only because it isn't a good atmosphere for you. I'll arrange for other studio facilities you can use. Yes, and I'll arrange for a better instructor than any this institute can provide." And then he kissed her on her lips!
An expression of utter incredulity possessed Francine's features. "But-but I don't have the money for that!" she stammered. "I came here because you don't have to pay. The only money I have is the few dollars a week my father sends me-
"You're not going to think about that," he instructed her firmly. "I'll pay for everything, and no strings. You don't have to worry about my making a nuisance of myself."
"What if I wanted you to make a nuisance of yourself?" she interjected with a smile. She took his dripping prong in her hand for a second, then dropped it. A schoolgirl blush flooded her face.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he informed her. Millner helped the girl arrange her clothing, then he retrieved her violin for her and put her in a cab downstairs.
When he confronted Slade in his office a few minutes later, Millner had lost much of his severity. Slade cringed abjectly before him. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Millner," he whined. "I don't know what the young lady told you, but I can assure you I'll never annoy her again."
"That's all right," Millner replied evenly. "After all, you had no way of knowing that Miss Blair and I are engaged."
"Engaged! No. It comes as a complete surprise to me!"
It'll come as quite a surprise to Miss Blair too, Millner reflected with a secret smile. But not an unpleasant one. No, as he mused on the enthusiastic way in which she'd taken his erupting dick in her mouth, the tender way in which she fondled his cock at the very end, retaining the stiff rod in a circle of two fingers, while with the other three she gripped his balls. Musing on these things, he was certain the surprise would not come as an unpleasant one!
CHAPTER SIX
Her mind was filled with one thought as Gail was ushered into Sealey's office, and that thought was that Cortland W. Sealey was a creepy-looking old fart. Sealey was the trustee for her father's estate.
The old man stood up as she entered the inner office and took her between his hands. He made some remark about the fact that she had grown considerably since the last time that he had seen her. Then Sealey asked her just how long that had been.
Gail withdrew her hands from his-the touch of his flesh made her skin crawl. They were just like a mummy's, she thought to herself.
"The last time was just a few weeks after Daddy passed away. That was when I was twelve. The last seven years we have talked on the phone a lot, but this is the first time that we have met since then."
It suited her perfectly, she thought, if they never met again, let alone for another seven years. He then asked if he had changed much, cocking a sly look over the top of his spectacles.
Gail knew that the only thing to do was to be polite and so she lied through her teeth as she remarked that he hadn't changed at all. She wanted to get on with the business and then get out of there.
He led her to a leather sofa and then they sat down. He gave her the once over, and then remarked, "As for you, Miss Beckwyth, you've changed a great deal. Yes, a great deal. I can visualize you as you were at our last meeting just as plainly as if it were yesterday. You were a skinny little thing, but already very pretty. Your curls hung below your shoulders. You wore white ankle socks and a pair of black, patent leather shoes with a strap across the front. But most of all, I remember your exquisite little dress. It was a delicate pink-the same shade of pink as cotton candy, and very wispy and brief. It was so short that every time you sat down or bent over, I was afforded a truly eye-popping view of your immaculate white panties..."
His eyes darted for an instant to the approximate vicinity of Gail's hips. "Times don't seem to have changed in one respect," he chuckled, "as you sit here beside me, I can still see your immaculate white panties!"
Gail tugged sharply at her miniskirt and crossed her legs. "Just what was it you wanted to see me about, Mr. Sealey?" she inquired briskly.
"Ah yes, I'm glad you mentioned that," the old attorney went on easily. 'The purpose of your visit. Um-m-m, Miss Beckwyth, I suppose it is no secret to you that you are at present, worth something in the neighborhood of two-hundred million dollars."
"Not at present," Gail corrected him. "I will be worth that sum on my twenty-first birthday. In the meantime, I don't get a smell of that money-except for a lousy five-hundred a month which I don't have to tell you, Mr. Sealey, hardly covers living expenses. Mr. Sealey, I was wondering if we couldn't-"
The attorney restrained her with a gesture of his withered hand. "I see you are well acquainted with the provisions of your father's will," he said. "But I was about to make a point. You are on the threshold of becoming one of the richest women in the world. Two-hundred million is a very great deal of money. Therefore, you cannot regard yourself as an ordinary person. You are subject to risks of which the average woman knows nothing ... "
"Risks?"
"Yes." He laid a dry hand on hers. "Risks from kidnappers. Risks from fortune hunters. And from all manner of persons whose only concern in all this world is to appropriate some portion of your tremendous wealth."
"I really don't concern myself with that sort of thing," Gail declared impatiently.
"Ah no," Mr. Sealey murmured with a shrug, "but I must. As the trustee of your estate, I could be summoned before the courts if I were negligent of your welfare in any way. I have the responsibility for both your fortune and your person. Did you know that? It is true. You may look it up. And being mindful of such responsibility, I have taken it on myself to have you under constant observation every day of the last two-and-a-half years."
"What!" Gail cried.
"In brief, I have had you shadowed," he declared calmly.
"WHAT!" Gail cried, her voice rising almost to a shriek. She could feel the strength slowly draining from her body as the impact of his words made itself felt.
"Yes," i Mr. Sealey went on imperturbably, "one of your classmates at college is a superbly trained private detective. I will not, of course, indicate her name. She has spot-checked your actions constantly at various hours of the day and night and reported them to me."
"You had no right to do that," Gail declared, her heart pounding wildly.
"I not only had the right, I had the obligation," the attorney stated impassively. "Whenever you came to New York, I have taken much stricter measures. This is a bad city, Miss Beckwyth, as you may not be aware, with villains lurking at literally every corner. I have had you shadowed every moment of the night and day by a relay team of two detectives. After all, if you were to fall into serious trouble, the blame would be on my shoulders. Two-hundred million dollars worth of trouble is a lot of trouble, my dear!"
"Please get to the point!" Gail blurted excitedly. Although outwardly arrogant, inwardly she felt such fear as she had never before known in her life. She felt as though Mr. Sealey's cold, withered hand had seized her heart and was contracting on it, throttling it harder with each passing second. Her feet and hands were already ice cold.
The attorney took a folder from his desk and re-seated himself alongside Gail. "I have here," he said, brandishing the file, "a very interesting report on certain activities you were engaged in last evening. A certain escapade in the park. Certain proceedings in a rather disreputable Times Square movie house..."
"Whatever I did was my affair and none of yours!" Gail snapped, furiously.
The attorney pursed his lips dubiously. He laid the file aside. "They are none of my personal concern, I agree with you there," he said, "but they are very much my professional concern! Miss Beckwyth, I am not certain how long it has been since you studied your father's will, but allow me to refresh your memory on one vital point. It states that you will come into the money at the age of twenty-one only if, in the opinion of the trustee, there is no impediment."
"Impediment! What kind of impediment?"
"The will is very explicit on that point," Mr. Sealey replied blandly. "If I have any reason to doubt your sanity-your allegiance to the Government of the United States-or your moral integrity-I can postpone your inheritance indefinitely."
"Oh, those are just technicalities!" Gail shrilled.
His smile was as thin and dry as a November leaf. "We attorneys deal with nothing but technicalities, my dear," he reminded her. "That's what we are here for."
"All right," she exclaimed, determined to brazen things out, "I'm not insane. I'm not a Communist..."
"Of course not, but would you call seducing a boy in Central Park evidence of moral integrity? And what would you call flopping down and having sexual intercourse on the floor, of a public theater? And as for that episode in the theater washroom..."
Gail shook her head impatiently. "All right," she said, "if you want to get technical, let's get down to technicalities! Just how much trouble can you make for me? Spell it out!"
"My dear, my dear," Mr. Sealey spoke soothingly, "I'm not here to make trouble for you. That is the last thing in the world I wish to do. I simply wish you to be aware of the fact that if I am dissatisfied with your moral conduct, I-or my successor-can postpone your inheritance on a year-by-year basis until you reach the age of forty. At that time, the money is incontestably yours."
"At forty!" Gail cried, unbelieving, "you mean to say you people can keep me on a crummy five-hundred a month till I'm forty?"
"You asked me to spell out the technicalities, Miss Beckwyth," he murmured unctuously, "I was merely doing so. After all, in view of certain immoralities..."
"My actions seem immoral to you only because you're an old fart!" Gail .blurted, uncaringly. "People live differently today than they did when you were my age. It's a different world! How can you judge me with your Victorian prejudices?"
She cringed, awaiting the inevitable explosion, but Mr. Sealey's reaction was unexpectedly mild. "You're exactly right, my dear," he agreed. "I am quite aware that I may be judging you unfairly. After all, when I was your age, Woodrow Wilson was still in the White House. Women's skirts were at the ankle. A lady wasn't a lady unless she staggered around with ten pounds of whalebone corseting around her middle. Sex was something dirty ... furtive ... secretive!"
"You see! You see!" Gail exclaimed.
"So you must try to understand my viewpoint," he went on. "My standards were formed in a different age. The girl I married at twenty-one was a virgin, and a very naive one at that. We lived together in complete happiness, having sex on an average of once a month, until she died in 1939. Since that time, I have lived totally chaste. I put sex completely out of my mind. I have not had intercourse even once since my wife's untimely death."
Gail waited, silent and apprehensive.
"So you see, in my present state, I am perhaps unqualified to judge a young lady's sexual pattern in this day and age. But I am not entirely an old fossil. I am willing to be convinced. Perhaps all this freedom is a good thing. Perhaps you are as moral according to your standards as I was according to mine."
Where was this leading? Gail distrusted this sudden amiability. She inched away from him. She could feel the iciness chilling her once again. "You mean ... you're willing to overlook my little indiscretions?" she ventured doubtfully.
He avoided her eyes as he replied, "I am willing to be convinced, that is all I will say at this point. I am willing to let you convince me.
"How can I convince you?" she asked in the faintest of voices.
"Well!" he began with sudden energy, "when I was a young man, it was regarded as a vile, filthy, obscene thing for a young lady to open a fellow's pants and take out his cock and play with it-as you did with that boy in the park. Perhaps if a young lady were to do that to me today, I'd feel altogether different about it ... " He took care to emphasize the word "young."
He rose from the sofa, went over to his desk, extracted a cigar from a leather humidor, and returned. He stood directly before her, his gaunt hips not more than a foot away from her face as he slowly lighted the cigar and said, "Yes, if a teenage girl were to reach inside my pants and handle my dick today, I might just be willing to forget all my old prejudices ... "
Gail gulped. She started to move, then restrained herself. At last, in tones so faraway and strange-sounding they didn't seem even to come from her throat, she said, "Well, in that case, I think a young lady ought to make the experiment. Nobody should have to live with his prejudices."
Her hand was numb and totally without feeling as she slowly zipped down the old man's fly and began feeling around inside for his penis.
"Oh gosh, Gail!" Mr. Sealey chuckled, "I had no idea you were going to volunteer! This is a surprise. But as long as you've started, I might as well let you continue. Feel around, my dear, it's in there someplace!"
At last she found it and drew it out. It was so small and wrinkled that it didn't even look like a penis at all. And his balls-they were no more than a couple of raisins inside a freckled fold of crinkly skin. She tried to jerk it, but there was nothing to jerk. It was like trying to manipulate a strand of boiled spaghetti.
"I-I'm afraid it's not going to get hard," she ventured hopefully, staring pathetically into his cold, enigmatic eyes.
"Oh, it'll take some doing, I'll grant you," he laughed, "as I told you, I haven't had an erection in over thirty years-not since the summer of 1939. I remember it just as clearly as if it were yesterday. It was the day before Hitler declared war in Europe. My wife, Melinda, had just come home from choir practice. We were undressing in the bedroom-in the dark, of course, when suddenly she said to me: 'Cortlandt-in all the years we've been married, we've always done it just the one way. I've been talking to some of the ladies at church recently and they tell me there are lots and lots of other ways to do it! Mrs. Ferguson, for instance,-likes to do what she calls sucking off. She takes her husband's penis in her mouth and makes him climax that way. I'd like to do that too, Cortlandt! Let me suck your dick, dear.'
"So I let her, although it seemed like a slimy, obscene act! She did it twice. The first time she did it, she got up and went out to the bathroom afterwards and spit it out and gargled. The second time, she swallowed it and licked my dick till she'd coaxed out every last drop. She died in her sleep that night. The doctor said she'd had a stroke from over-excitement. I felt bad about it. But at the same time, I felt God might have punished her for her licentious behavior."
He hesitated a moment, then said, "Perhaps if a young lady were to do that for me today, I would be much more tolerant in my feelings."
Gail closed her eyes, took a firm grip on her nerves, and said, "I think we ought to settle the matter once and for all, sir." She reached out, seized his shriveled ass cheeks and urged his hips toward her face. Making a trough of her warm, pink tongue, she said, "Why don't you just lay your cock and balls on my tongue, Mr. Sealey? Let me just bounce your goodies on my tongue a few times, and I'll bet we can put some life into them."
The old man laid his horrible speckled apparatus on the outthrust trough of vital young flesh. Winking, he said, "You'll promise not to bite it, won't you?"
Gail cuddled the revolting member between her lips a moment, then replied, "I don't know if I can promise anything of the kind, sir! Your meat feels so hot and delicious in my mouth, I might be very strongly tempted to bite it off and swallow it!" But it was as cold and dead on her tongue as a stone. Gail couldn't help recalling a friend of hers who had just entered medical school. The friend, a vivacious young brunette, had been dared by some of the other students to take a corpse's cock in her mouth. She had done so, and afterwards described the sensation to Gail. Gail had been horrified at the time, but she realized she was now enduring the same experience herself. It was like placing a dead toad in her mouth.
"Are you enjoying this, my dear?" Mr. Sealey twinkled. "I wouldn't want to force you to do anything against your will, you understand that, don't you?"
"Oh, of course," she replied quickly. "I realize how important this experience is to you. I only hope that, when we've finished, you'll feel a lot more tolerant about young ladies who let young boys suck their pussies, and who kiss strange men's asses in public toilets! Mmmmmm! Your meat tastes so delicious! I can't wait to taste the gravy!" She rolled her eyes provocatively, then sucked up the entire revolting mess of his dick and testicles and attempted to breathe some life into it.
As Gail mauled his genitals between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, Mr. Sealey commenced to breathe harder. He deliberately began to muss her hair, to pinch and yank at her exquisite, shell-pink ears and slap her face while he bucked his hips against her face. All the time, he exhaled thick clouds of greasy tobacco smoke that made Gail cough uncontrollably even as she sucked.
"You don't mind if I muss your hair and makeup, do you, Miss Beckwyth?" he wheezed, "when I become passionate, I tend to become quite violent. You understand, don't you? You won't hold it against me, will you?"
Gail shook her head. She sucked all the harder, fondling his buttocks while her tongue chased his genitals around her mouth, caressing them, bouncing them, fluttering them. Several times she had to stop a moment and rest. She could feel herself gagging. She was fearful that she might throw up any moment all over his shoes.
She could feel his dick becoming rubbery-firm between her bps, but it was still far from being erect. The old man let her slaver over his genitals for fully half an hour. During that time, he continued to tear and yank at her hair, to nip the lobes of her ears between his long, tobacco-stained fingernails, and to administer sharp slaps to her glowing cheeks with his skeleton-like hands. Several times, he forced her head back and, as she continued to french him, he spat full in her face. "Oh excuse me, excuse me," he snickered each time, "but passion does tend to make me rather boisterous! You will let me know if I seem to become too objectionable, won't you, my dear?" And then he spit in her face again.
After a half an hour, Mr. Sealey reluctantly withdrew his cock from Gail's mouth saying, "Well, Miss Beckwyth, I really must admit that the experience of having my dick sucked by a female doesn't seem nearly as vile now as it did in 1939. Perhaps there's hope for me after all!" And he just stood there and waited.
Gail could barely stir her bruised and battered tongue to mumble, "Does that mean you're willing to overlook my conduct and have the money signed over to me when I'm twenty-one?"
Mr. Sealey made an unpleasant rasping noise that could not quite be called a laugh. "Oh my dear," he said, "not so fast, please. I'm only saying I can feel the bounds of my tolerance widening somewhat. I am not yet on the point of throwing all standards to the winds. By no means! I must first explore many other areas of sexual conduct that seem equally as vile as cocksucking and masturbation!"
"Such as what?" Gail asked miserably.
"For one thing," he went on, "I will never forget how utterly indecent the sight of a woman's under drawers used to seem to me. What a shock I received on my honeymoon-I still cannot recall it without a shudder. I came back to the hotel room unexpectedly one afternoon and found my wife lying on the bed in her underwear. She was clad in some sort of muslin panties that reached nearly to her knees and a corset hid most of her torso. Yet she seemed so utterly brazen and salacious as she lay there that I turned on my heel and left the room without a word. She could see how I felt and she never again allowed me to see her without at least donning a dressing gown. I wonder though, how I would feel now. What do you think, my dear?"
"Would-would you like to see how I look in my lingerie?" Gail asked fearfully.
"I think that might clear up my doubts," he smiled. He seated himself on the sofa with a grateful sigh. His cock still dangled out of his pants.
Gail rose. Facing away from him, she slowly lifted the hem of her skirt till her bikini panties were revealed in all their enticing loveliness. The panties were of the sheerest possible nylon, in pale green, and they had crept up so far into the tight little crevice of her ass that they were all but invisible from the rear. Gail's buttocks were now at the peak of ripe perfection. No longer a teenager's dry, hard little globes, Gail's twin ass-spheres were now blooming, downy with just the merest shadow of light-brown hair, odorous with sweet juices and packed to the bursting point with tender, succulent flesh. The afternoon light glinted and flowed over their golden splendor.
She heard Mr. Sealey's sharp intake of breath as she revealed her rear to his voracious eyes. "What a pretty, pretty behind you have, Miss Blair," he said softly. "It's a sacrilege to sit on such an ass! This is the first time I've ever seen a woman's behind up close like this, you know. My wife and I were never nude together except in the dark. Are all women's cans this beautiful? No-no, I'm sure they're not! I've admired your sweet little rear ever since you were a child. It's the sweetest, most inviting ass I'd ever hope to see."
"Inviting?" Gail asked.
"Yes, inviting!"
"And exactly what do you feel my ass is inviting you to do?" she asked. Dimly, Gail began to envision a plan. She realized now that she had gotten herself into a very tight fix. With each passing moment, Mr. Sealey's mask dropped another fraction of an inch. She was sure now that he could be absolutely ruthless if he chose. She had to think of a way to fight back. And now, vaguely, she began to see what it was she must do...
"Yes?" she repeated, "what does my inviting ass invite you to do?"
"Many things, my dear," he replied huskily. "I sense that it invites me to kiss it. Am I correct, Miss Blair?"
She giggled provocatively. "Why don't you ask it and find out?" she replied. "Put your lips up close and ask it!"
"I shall," he said, "but first of all, there is something I must do." With trembling fingers, he dislodged the wet rope of sodden nylon that had worked its way up between her buttocks. He worked the wisp of fabric away from her hips. It slid to her ankles and she stepped out of it. Mr. Sealey held her ethereally brief panties to his nostrils, then said, "Isn't that remarkable! I find that women's undergarments no longer repel me as they once did." He thrust the tiny garment in the breast pocket of his jacket.
As he bent once more over Gail's succulent rump, she began to rotate it slowly. She relaxed and contracted her ass-muscles spasmically, first expanding her ass crack to reveal the enticing crater of her ass-hole, then compressing it again to veil the glorious mystery. "Oooh," she sighed, "I think it wants to be kissed. I can just feel it somehow! Oh, Mr. Sealey, I feel certain my can craves the caress of your loving lips!"
Mr. Sealey began to slaver over her buttocks. It was all she could do to keep from wincing as she felt the thin, bloodless lips play over the delectable ripeness of her twin globes, the saliva dripping and trickling over her thighs, the cold, leathery tongue inching deeper between her buttocks-deeper...
The son of a bitch! She could feel his jagged, rotting teeth nipping her tender flesh. As his hands, groping around in front, played frenziedly over her cringing pussy lips, his teeth were savagely ravishing her backside. She could feel a tiny trickle of blood begin to ooze from one wound. Then from another ...
"Oooh!" She wriggled her can away from his teeth. Facing him once more, she cried, "Is your cock getting hard, Mr. Sealey? Would it seem disgusting if I took your strong, virile prick in my hand and jerked you off sir? Do you feel yourself getting hard? Oh, you just can't imagine what pleasure it would afford me to feel your masculine cock twitching and spurting in my hands, your lovely hot, sticky sperm gushing over my hands while I jerked you and played with your cock, your come trickling down over your balls and splashing all over my shoes..."
A wolfish grin split Mr. Sealey's features. "Why don't you lay your tongue on my dick and see just how hard it's getting?"
Kneeling, Gail let her tongue flicker back and forth over his cold, slug-like member. "Oh dear," she cried disappointedly, "it's soft as a puppy's ear. I was so hoping I could prove to you that having your cock jerked off to climax wasn't nearly as disgusting as you probably thought!"
The attorney's bony hands roved restlessly over Gail's ass once more. Over the broad billows of golden flesh, ruthlessly storming the steep-banked channel between. "You know, Miss Beckwyth," the attorney murmured as his fingers intruded shamelessly into her treasures, "I have to make a confession. One day, many years ago, when I was visiting your father at home on business, you ran into the study where we were conferring and as you capered about, you dumped a nearly full glass of some drink-a chocolate malted, I believe, into my lap. It was a very gooey, sticky drink and ruined my suit. I would have given anything to whale the living daylights out of your impertinent little ass that afternoon, but of course, I had to make light of the matter. But I have never forgotten the incident. Or forgiven it!"
"You mean, you've cherished a desire to spank my saucy little bottom all these years?" Gail squealed.
"Something like that," he replied with a twisted smile. "And, as we are presently trying to overcome old prejudices, why don't we clear this one up as well?"
"Wouldn't it be simpler if you just dumped a glass of chocolate malted in my lap?" Gail asked with a side-wise glance. "Then we'd be even. A fellow did that to me once when I was out on a date at college. I was so furious I made him lick the gloppy stuff off my belly, my thighs and my pussy. Maybe you'd care to do that, Mr. Sealey...? '
Shit, her can stung where the old mother-fucker had bitten her in different places! Involuntarily, her hand went to the wounded places. It came back with a tiny stain of scarlet on her fingers.
He grimaced. "I'll admit it's a very tempting offer, my dear, and one that I may just take you up on one of these days, but for now, I think a little pat or two on the behind might serve to clear the air once and for all. Come! Lie across my lap, I won't take more than a minute, I promise you." As Gail moved unwillingly to drape her exquisite frame across the old man's skeletal legs . he said, "Oh, dear! Why don't you remove your dress? It will only become crumpled as we go through our little experiments, and I'm sure you wouldn't want that!"
Gail unzipped and stepped out of her dress, which she hung carefully over the back of a chair. Then, her stomach churning, she gingerly rested her torso on the attorney's knees and waited for the first blow.
His dry, scaly hand prowled the intriguing clefts of her anatomy with maddening thoroughness. Then-smash! smash! Gail's fragile body jerked like a hooked fish. Oh Shit-who would have thought the old man had so much power in his arm! Wriggling, her long, bare legs kicking wildly, Gail tried not to scream. Tears began to stream down her face as the attorney warmed to his task. Crack! Crack! His bony hand left livid welts up and down the lushly out-curving surfaces of her tooth-marked ass. Oooh, shit-the old bastard seemed to know exactly where to strike to make it pain the most!
"I'm not really hurting you, am I, dear?" he wheezed after a few minutes in which Gail felt her can turn to a sheet of living flame.
"Oh n-no," she stammered, "please sir-I was a naughty girl to overturn the chocolate malted in your lap. I'm sure I deserve a spanking!"
"My cock doesn't seem to be getting any harder," Mr. Sealey mused, as he fondled the magnificent expanse of flesh beneath his hands.
"And it must be hard if we are going to pursue our experiments to a satisfactory conclusion. As it is, I feel I am just barely on the verge of overcoming my prejudices. And that, after all, is what we're attempting to accomplish, isn't it?"
Gail felt up between the man's legs as she lay draped over his knees. His dong was soft and limp as a baby's. "I have an idea," he said, "why don't you jerk my prick while I administer the sound thrashing you deserve? That might just turn the trick."
"Oh, what an excellent idea!" Gail exulted. Somehow, by contorting her arm and shoulder, she achieved a firm grip on his dick. She commenced to jerk it. "Ah, that's the idea," Mr. Sealey sighed. He resumed his onslaught on Gail's bruised and blistering ass flesh. Smack! Smack! Smack! Now Gail's legs were kicking uncontrollably, her buttocks were contracting spastically with every vicious blow of his flinty-hard paws, the musky-smelling sweat of panic was commencing to stream from her buttocks and thighs! Her back arched upward with every demonic smash, her head swung wildly from side to side, and thick gobs of spit curved in wide arcs from her agonized lips. Her titties jiggled and flopped maniacally as, in spite of herself, her willowy form contorted into new, more tortuously angled patterns with each barbaric blow!
Crash! A sudden blow, more sadistically cruel than all the others combined, crunched against Gail's flesh exactly where all the divine clefts and crevices of ass, pussy, and thigh intermingle in ecstatic sensitivity at the exact geometric center of a woman's crotch. Her pain-contorted body arched upward, spun erratically, and dropped to the floor at Mr. Sealey's feet. The sight seemed to rake up the coals of his only partly-kindled embers. His sadistic lust flared high and, before Gail had quite realized what was happening to her, the scrawny old fiend had whipped off his suspenders and, heedless of the fact that his pants were drooped around his ankles, began to flail Gail's helpless body with a power that made her gasp for breath!
Wham! Wham! The leather ends and metal clips tore across the meltingly soft flesh of Gail's thighs and ass. As she squirmed frantically, twisting and turning, warping and wrenching her delicate frame this way and that to avoid his furious onslaught, the murderous metal clips ripped across the parchment delicacy of her dimpled belly and her frenziedly palpitating cunt-flesh.
"Oooh!" she squealed as she thrashed about helplessly, "oooh! Mr. Sealey-please! How can I handle your dick if you do this to me? Oh Mr. Sealey, I want to jerk you some more. You can't imagine what a thrill it is for me to play with your cock! Let me play with it, please. Let me suck your dick, too, let me kiss your ass, let me run my tongue up your ass-hole. Ooooh! That stings!" Her hands fluttered like great moths over the soft, vulnerable parts of her delectably undulating body as she struggled vainly to protect herself.
But the aged attorney seemed possessed by all the devils of hell. His arm rose and fell-rose and fell! Not only did it show no signs of fatigue, it actually seemed to gain in strength with each brutal blow.
Suddenly Gail noticed something. Something that hadn't been there before. "Mr. Sealey!" she cried, pointing to his midriff, "Look, Mr. Sealey!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"What?" he cried out, stopping his arm in mid-stroke.
"Your cock!" she explained, grabbing his repulsive tool before he could regain his wits. "Look, it's, it's growing. It's getting bigger, Mr. Sealey. You have a real erection."
And it was true, the cock was suddenly coming "to life. Slowly, but surely it was beginning to stand, and now they both stared down at his member as it continued to grow and grow and grow. They were both fascinated by the length of the monster.
"Good grief," remarked Gail, "it's gigantic." It was at least eight inches long and more than an inch and a half thick. It was topped with an arrogant head that was almost shaped like the beak of a bird of prey. It seemed as if it were destined to crush and wound rather than to push against sensitive blood-fused pussy lips.
"Cripes, Mr. Sealey," Gail stated, "my respect increases every minute. I would have never guessed that such a tiny piece of meat could grow into such an incredible monster. Wow, it's really something. I mean it, Mr. Sealey. May I suck you some more? I want you to know the real experience of having a girl go down on you."
"Please let me take that great big piece of meat into my mouth, so that you can know what it's like to fuck a girl's mouth. It's really great and I'll swallow your jazz too. Please, get rid of your old-fashioned ideas and let me suck you off."
He pulled his cock away from her mouth. A smile hovered over the corners of his mouth. "I appreciate it, child, but I think we must defer that delightful experience for the present."
"Oh, but sir, you're not going to waste this magnificent erection, are you?" she cried. "That is exactly my thought," he replied.
