Archive Note: There are many pages in this pocketbook where someone used a razor to cut out assorted images. Unfortunately, when that was done, whole pages of text were also cut out.
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FOREWORD
Pauline Parker had a feeling something funny was going on. Her husband, Mayor Chuck Parker, never seemed to have time for her. He never wanted her the way he used to. And Pauline was a girl who needed a lot of loving ... a lot of times a day ... a lot of different ways. Chuck always claimed to be tired. Well, she was tired too. Tired of waiting for him to spring to life and fill the emptiness she felt in the pit of her throat, the emptiness she felt each night when he wasn't there to press his love close to her lips, against her teeth, into her mouth.
Her mouth, Big Mouth, they had called her in school. For two reasons. She used her mouth to gossip. And she used her mouth to make love. Well, Pauline thought, if Chuck Parker was cheating on her; she'd use her mouth to get him. She'd destroy him. She'd spread so much filth around town that he'd never be able to hold his head up above the stench. Chuck Parker might not want her. But plenty of other men would spring to attention at the slightest command from her Big Mouth, that's right! Plenty of men! Men always did what she told them to, she could eat them up alive!
And one man who fit the bill on the ball was Dean Crawford, Chuck's opponent in the coming election. Pauline knew that Dean would do anything for her. And Dean had almost everything that Chuck had-the only difference between them was that Chuck had gotten into the Mayor's Mansion. And Chuck had gotten into Pauline's mouth. But she could change everything! She could make her husband blow the election, his fate was in her mouth ... Because men always did what she told them to!
CHAPTER ONE
Pauline Parker picked up the telephone. She dialed the office of the mayor of Eastport.
"May I help you?" the Mayor's new secretary asked.
"Hello, dear. This is Mrs. Parker," Pauline began in her sweetest tone of voice. "Might I speak to my husband?"
"I am sorry, Mrs. Parker. Mayor Parker is in conference right now. He left instructions not to be disturbed. I can ask him to get back to you, though."
"Oh, dear, but it is rather important. If you might just buzz him for a sec, I'd be so grateful."
The secretary sounded unsure. "Well, he did leave strict instructions, but I'll see."
"You're so kind," Pauline said. "You're a treasure."
A few minutes later Mayor Chuck Parker picked up the phone. "What is it, Pauline?"
"I want you to get your ass back home and stick that big cock of yours up the first hole you run into!"
"Pauline! How many times have I told you not to do this! Someone could be on the other extension. What the hell is the matter with you?"
"I just miss you, Chuckie. I need it. That big meat of yours. I want to lick it up and down. I want to feel it inside my mouth, close my lips on tip of it. Ooooh, Chuckie, come home now!"
"Pauline, I am the Mayor of one of the largest cities in the United States. I have other things on my mind besides sex, sex, sex."
"You're telling me," Pauline said bitterly.
"That's right, I'm very busy. But you, Pauline, you're too much! You even woke me up in the middle of the night the way you were sucking on it. What the hell is the matter with you lately?"
"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with you! I'm a healthy red-blooded American girl! I'm twenty-seven years old. And it's been so long since we..."
"Yeah, I saw four years ago. I want it now! Come home now, Chuckie. I'm lying here now thinking of you."
"Pauline!"
"I'm thinking of your hard tongue thrusting through my twat. Oooh, my pussy is purring at the thought. My lips are watering!"
"Pauline, that's enough!"
"Hear her? Hear my little pussy? Let me put the phone a little closer. Talk to her. Tell her how you'd love to come home, get away from those nasty old meetings, and eat my pussy. Say it into the phone, Chuckie."
"Pauline, you're demented! You forget I'm the Mayor of one of the largest cities in the United States. I curse the day I ever met a screwed-up nympho like you!"
"Screwed up! Oooh, Chuckie. Come home and screw me up! Up against the wall. Up against the refrigerator! Anywhere! Stick that meat in as far as it goes. Anywhere!" Pauline was panting now, but the voice sounded distant. Chuck knew where the telephone was!
"I'm hanging up, Pauline."
"You hang me up, you mother-fucker, and I'll use this telephone for something else, besides poking inside my pussy. I'll call the newspapers and get your ass in hot water like I did last time. My telephone calls are famous in this city, or have you forgotten?"
"Pauline, you better get ahold of yourself. My election campaign is starting over. I don't need any kind of trouble. You better not make any of those phone calls. The reporters will eat me up alive!"
"Oooh, Chuckie, come home and eat me up alive. I'm not kidding, I really need it! I need to feel that big member swelling hard in my mouth. I need that hot tongue swimming through my cunt. Come home, I'm warning you!"
"I said I'm hanging up. Now don't bug me!" Chuck slammed the phone down hard, hard enough to send a bolt of noise up Pauline's duct.
"Ooh, baby," she moaned, slowly easing the black telephone out of her tingling twat.
That bastard, she thought. That mother-fucker bastard! What had he said to her-don't bug me! What nerve! To talk to her like that. Don't bug me, indeed!
Well, I will bug him, Pauline decided. She grabbed the telephone and began to dial her favorite reporter on the Eastport Gazette.
She'd give him a hell of a story! Tell him she and His Honor disagreed about the war in Indochina. That would upset Chuck!
But then Pauline put the phone back down. No, there was something else involved here. Why was Chuck always so reluctant to have sex with her? Why did he always hold back? When they had first married-five years ago-he was as hot as a stud, filled with piss and vinegar. And she was the right filly for a stomping stallion! But now it was always the wrong time for him.
Was it the tensions of a new campaign? Was that what was making him so unaggressive?
Or was there something else? Someone else, perhaps that new secretary. It could be anyone. The handsome young Mayor was always surrounded by beautiful women.
Pauline bit hard on her lips. If she found out her husband was cheating on her, she'd-what would she do? It couldn't be true, she laughed. No need to worry.
But it was true. A healthy man never wanting sex with her. It had to be true. Chuck was cheating on her!
Pauline fought back the tears. This wasn't the time for them. This was a time for strength, not weakness!
This was a time for one more phone call!
Dean Crawford was the man Chuck Parker would be running against in the upcoming election. He was thirty-five years old, and thirty-five times a millionaire. Most of the polls agreed that Mayor Parker would have a tough time beating this dynamic young opponent.
Chuck Parker had beaten him once before. Seven years ago, Dean Crawford had been engaged to a beautiful red-haired girl from Colorado. But they had double-dated and double-crossed. And Pauline had left Dean for Chuck Parker.
Pauline watched through the window as Dean Crawford pulled up in his shiny orange sport scar.
Orange, she thought. What a lucky sign! Orange was her color. Her long, copper hair, her pride and joy, was a brilliant shade of orange, really. And all her hair was orange-red. That's why she lived in a room with wall-to-wall orange carpeting. She'd actually brought a sample of her snatch hair to the rug company. They had to match perfectly.
In Pauline Parker's boudoir, what you saw was What you got!
Pauline went to her closet and selected a flimsy, lacy black housedress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Fine, she thought. Not too different from the little college girl Dean had known. A little fuller, perhaps. More of a woman-a woman of the world.
"Pauline! Pauline Shmutz!" Dean rushed forward to throw his arms around her.
"It's Pauline Parker now. And you can leave," she said to the curious houseboy who was lingering in the hallway.
Pauline walked over to close the bedroom door. "Dean, it's so good to see you, after all these years."
"How many years is it?"
"Gee, Dean, I wonder. When I last saw you I was seventeen. Today I'm twenty. It's been three years for me, but ten on the calendar."
Dean laughed heartily. "Well, I'm a calendar man, and ten years is a long time,"
"You're a scotch man, too, if I remember correctly."
"You're right, Pauline," Dean smiled, accepting the proffered glass. "I'm still wild about scotch. There's nothing I'd rather taste than straight scotch," he confided, emptying the tumbler.
"Nothing?" Pauline asked slyly.
"Not by a mile. It's my favorite taste."
"Well, then, let me refill it." Pauline took the glass from him and walked back to the bar.
Dean stared at her as she poured the drink. What a beauty she still was! Those great mounds of breasts rising from the housedress as she bent down to pour the drink. Her firm body was shown off to perfection by the housedress. Long legs, the kind a man would like to feel wrapped tight around his thrusting body.
If only he knew how she felt about him, after all these years. After all, he had to be careful. She was the Mayor's wife. He couldn't just make an innocent pass at her. They weren't kids anymore.
Dean gulped as he felt the waves of lust burning from his loins. He shouldn't have taken that drink on an empty stomach. He should never have done that. But it was too late to turn back now.
Pauline came up close to him. "Here you go, handsome." She handed him the new drink. "You're still crazy about scotch, I see. Well," she lifted her own glass, "bottoms up!"
Dean gulped down the drink as he watched Pauline sink her own succulent bottom into the chair near the bed.
"Dean, you're probably wondering why I called you here, after all these years. Well, I was never one to beat around a bush," she began, in her sexiest voice.
Dean's whole body was a burning flame, burning faster and hotter. Every word she said turned him on. "Bottoms up" and "beat around my "bush." What did her bush look like, he wondered. He'd never gotten to see it in college. Was it the same color as the long red hair that fell freely down her shoulders, the same color as the soft, downy rug that covered this room. He couldn't really see it. Not the way she had her legs crossed. If only she'd...
"Dean, are you all right?"
"Huh? Oh, excuse me. I was just thinking about the old days. Sorry. You were saying?"
"I hadn't said it yet. But I will now. I called you here because I want to make you the next Mayor of Eastport. I want to help you defeat my husband."
"What!"
"You heard me right. Let me freshen your drink," she said, rising from the seat and taking Dean's empty glass.
"But he's your husband," Dean gasped.
Pauline smiled from the bar. "I know someone else who might be my husband today, if it hadn't been for a double-crossing friend. That's right. A double-crosser. Not just you, Dean. Me, too." She blushed deep red as she handed him the drink.
"You mean Chuck cheated..."
"A man who'll cheat on his best friend will cheat on his wife, too," Pauline answered simply. "But that's enough of that. Let's talk about us. Finished the drink already?"
Dean laughed, holding up the empty tumbler.
Pauline smiled. "I'm a slow drinker. See?" She licked the edge of her martini glass daintily with her pink tongue. "Maybe that's because I'm just a little girl. But you drink so fast. Is that because you're a great big man?" she laughed.
Dean tried to laugh too.
"Let's see how big your tongue is, Dean," Pauline said. "Why don't you open your mouth?"
Dean opened his mouth. "Wider, honey. I can't see." Dean gulped and opened it wider. "Ooh, you do have a big, wet one. I mean, a big tongue. That must be why you lap things up so fast."
Dean closed his mouth and, already dizzy from the scotch, he bit his tongue.
"Ouch!"
"Silly boy, what have you done?" Pauline bent over to look. "Show me where it hurts. Let me kiss it and make it all better."
Pauline took his tongue in her mouth and rubbed her own against it. Dean closed his eyes, wild with lust. He was about to throw his arms around her, when Pauline released his tongue and stood up.
"One more, for old time's sake," she laughed, walking slowly to the bar. Dean watched her succulent ass move underneath that damn housedress.
He loosened his shirt collar. "It's hot in here, isn't it, Pauline?"
"This drink will cool you off, honey," Pauline called from the bar. "I'll put a nice, cold ice cube in it. You can lap it up with that quick tongue of yours."
I know where I'd love to put that quick tongue of mine, Dean thought. Right up the quick of her downy twat! Right up into the reaches of her tangy...
"Here you go, Dean," Pauline said, shaking him out of his reverie. "Honestly, the way you drink scotch! What have you got inside you, a scotch tapeworm!"
Pauline laughed uproariously at her own very mild joke. In the process of laughing, she spilled Dean's new drink on her housedress.
"Oh, shit, and that's the very last bit of scotch we have in the whole Mayor's Mansion!"
"Never mind, Pauline," Dean consoled her. "I feel pretty good already," he laughed. Then he hiccuped. "Excuse me, I'm just a little dizzy."
"Now don't try to spare my feelings. I know how you love scotch. If we act fast ... " She grabbed Dean's neck and guided his head down to her box. "Try to taste it. Quick!"
"What the-" Dean didn't Understand.
"Hurry up! That's it," Pauline purred. "Lick the scotch off my dress. Lick it up! Lap it!"
Dean's head was pounding with waves of lust, pounding and raging within him. He began to lick the borders of Pauline's night dress.
"Do you taste it?" Pauline asked, her own tongue licking her lips. "Do you taste it, baby?"
"I don't taste anything," Dean said, in a choked, childish voice.
"Oooh," Pauline purred softly. "I'm disappointed. Maybe it already seeped through underneath."
"I want to taste it," Dean whined. "I want to taste it!"
"Easy, honey," Pauline comforted him, stroking his hair with one hand, while with the other she opened her housedress to the waist. "Go ahead, lick it up. See if any of that good taste is down there." Pauline guided his throbbing head down to her white panties.
"Good taste?" Dean asked. "Oh, you mean the scotch."
Pauline laughed. "Whatever you find down there has gotta be good," she purred, holding his head in her hands.
Dean gulped as he saw in front of him Pauline's panties. They were as white as ivory. As white as the white skin of her thighs, now also revealed to him. Thighs bursting with succulent juicy flesh and good times.
All that whiteness! It blinded him, like a snowstorm, and there in the middle of the white field was the tantalizing hint of something copper, glowing red, like the hot sun. A soft, silky forest of coiled copper.
"Lick! Lick, you," Pauline commanded, pushing with her hands, applying pressure on Dean's throbbing temples.
Dean extended his tongue, but although he could already smell the pungent perfume of Pauline's pussy juice, he couldn't taste anything. Just the cold silkiness of her panties. The vibrant warmth of her cunt was across that last border.
"I don't taste anything," he stammered. "Just elastic."
Pauline sounded disappointed again. "What, no scotch down there? None of that good juice down there?"
"I don't taste scotch. And I feel awful," Dean whined, like a nagging schoolboy.
"Well, there's only one place left where it could've disappeared into. And I'm going to help you find it!"
Pauline pushed his head away for a second. Dean gulped for fresh air as he saw her peel off her panties to reveal all of her mysteries to him.
"Go ahead!" she laughed shrilly. "Go down and eat up!"
She grabbed his head in her hands and planted a soft, encouraging kiss on his lips. Her tongue sought out his and they wrestled together in his mouth.
Then she pulled her head back and gestured where she wanted him to go. "Oh, take that tongue and come into my cunt! Oh, yes!" She laughed as she saw him lowering his head obediently and eagerly.
Dean could smell the exotic offering in front of him. He began kissing her pussy hairs. He'd take large clusters of those copper coils in his mouth, each time a larger cluster, A red, fiery cunt! That's what those red hairs meant! Her cunt was on fire! And he'd waited ten years to get at it! Ten years! But now he'd come here, the fireman and he'd put out the fire in her red, torrid twat.
"Take it. Eat. Lick with your tongue."
Pauline was writhing in pleasure and anticipation. But Dean just sucked with his mouth. He did not let his tongue venture into those foreign streams. Not yet.
"Lick, lick, you prick!"
Dean watched Pauline wriggle beneath him, like a fish out of water. Oh, how she wanted his tongue, his little mouth-cock to eat her out. Not yet, he thought.
Pauline's fingernails dug into his back. She was writhing in an agony of ecstasy. "Lick!
Lick, you prick! Twit my clit! Lap my labia!"
He finally opened his mouth and his hot tongue came out. like a snake heading for the deep, warm earth, it headed for the opening of Pauline's tortured twat.
Pauline shrieked as she felt it enter her, that hot tongue, that moist muscle from the mouth was exploring the cavity of her cunt. She spread her legs farther apart and grasped Dean's head with them, to force them deeper into her duct.
"Oh," Pauline moaned with pleasure. "Oh, Dean, eat my hot twat. Oh, yes, oh, do it, do me.
Now Dean became aware of another member of the family who wanted to get in on the action. His huge cock was swelling hard under his trousers. And as Dean saw the pleasure that his tongue gave as he coiled through her cunt, so he wanted Pauline's moist lips to eat out his sex.
Pauline wrapped her thighs tighter around Dean's head. He could feel the blood pounding through his temples. She kept squeezing her thighs tighter around him, sucking his tongue into her quivering, trembling twat.
With a fierce athletic lunge, Dean twisted his six-foot frame around in the bed. Without removing his tongue from his dream girl's twat, he shifted his lower half around so that his pulsing prick was battering at the gates of Pauline's pursed lips.
"Blblbl," he stammered, his mouth still filled with her pussy. Would she know what he wanted?
Pauline knew all right. Purring and moaning with joy, she undid his belt and slipped the surging sex out of his boxer shorts, into her hand.
Dean quivered as he felt her fingernails feeling his tool.
Oh, shit, take it in your mouth, he prayed. Don't let me down!
Pauline tickled his tool with her fingernails. Dean groaned into her pussy. The tease! The temptress! The twat! Take it in your mouth like I'm eating you, he wanted to scream. One good turn deserves another, doesn't it?
But Dean had no power over this liberated Amazon. His head was in her pussy, his cock was in her power! He was powerless, swooning with tortured lust as Pauline alternately gripped and then relaxed the grip on Dean's throbbing member. But she refused to guide it home, into her warm mouth.
But then she did it! Slowly at first, very slowly, she bent down and licked just the head. She licked it with a flickering movement of her tongue that sent chills up Dean's nerve fibers. His whole body felt those first licks-the chilling quivers raced up his cock, through his nervous system, into his brain-it exploded in him, forcing him to dig deeper with his tongue into Pauline's endless pussy.
Blow me, he thought. Get in there and suck!
Pauline licked her way down his throbbing tool. Then she went down and licked his balls with her lips, the way he had peeled her own pussy hairs.
Do it, suck it, eat it! Dean wanted to scream at her. He wanted to throw his powerful arms around her soft white swan's neck. He wanted to see that beautiful face go down on his scorching sex. He wanted to see Pauline's flame-colored hair part like a curtain to show his big meat in her mouth.
Pauline threw back her red hair like a proud wild mare would throw back its mane. She opened her sensuous mouth wide and took his big dick in her mouth. Took it in a way no other girl had ever done-proud, free, wild, on fire! like a wild mare, he thought!
Oh Jesus, Dean thought, I'm going to shoot right away!
But Pauline sensed this. She knew how to take him just up to climax, then let him slip into a lower gear. All the time she undulated her own hips around him, reminding him that she was also on the menu.
Tongue in twat-mouth on muscle-they thrashed about on the floor. They were like two wild animals. Two tigers. Pauline's strong thighs were fast around Dean's face, forcing his tongue deeper into her flooding honey hole.
Finally he knew he could control it no longer-he felt it welling up inside him, swelling up inside his belly, his viscera-the hot white come that he wanted her to take in her mouth. Oh shit, how he wanted to feel her fellate him-to see her swallow his hot load-to know that his come was on her tongue, in her throat, sliding down to her belly.
They rolled on the floor, two wild devils, sucking each other into oblivion. Dean felt it coming up inside him. But Pauline seemed like she could go on forever, sucking till doomsday-sucking off the Devil himself.
It's coming, Dean thought, I'm coming. I feel it. He tried to hold it back a few seconds, tried to keep it just ...
With a spasm of speechless thrusting, Dean shot down Pauline. As they climaxed together, their bodies dissolved into one mound of sizzling flesh, and so strong was the spasm of their climax, that they rocked a few inches above the floor, and came down hard on their buns as they finished coming inside each other. Dean felt the impact of falling had forced an extra sum of come out of him, and he lay back spent and satisfied inside her.
They lay together for some time on the soft rug. Now it would always remind Dean of the soft down of Pauline's silken thatch.
Then Pauline got up, slowly easing herself out of Dean's steely embrace. With the grace of a dancer, she crossed over to the bar on the other side of the room.
"I don't have any more scotch. But I think we should have one last drink," she said in her soft, silky voice. She poured two glasses of champagne.
"Anything you say, Baby," Dean smiled. "And I mean that, anything."
Pauline crossed back to him and extended her marble-white arm with the glass of bubbling pink champagne.
"A toast," she began. "To Dean Crawford. Next mayor of Eastport. Or I'll eat my words-and there are other things I'd rather eat." Pauline finished the drink in one swallow. "Drink up, Your Honor."
CHAPTER TWO
Suzy Jo Hollander placed the freshly perked cup of coffee by her boss's arm on his desk. "Careful," she warned. "It's steaming hot."
Mayor Chuck Parker looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Suzy." He took a sip of the coffee and then smacked his lips in approval. "Just the way I love it."
His secretary glanced at the top of the poll the Mayor was poring over.
"It says that the city is still annoyed about the last tax increase. The pollsters think I could be defeated if I ran now. Particularly against that popular young industrialist, Dean Crawford." Chuck laughed. "Funny thing about Crawford. We were best friends years ago, in college." He took another sip of the coffee and sighed. "I don't know. Being mayor isn't easy. No matter how you try, you can't please everybody."
Suzy watched him brood over the poll. She thought he was the greatest American in the whole country. Some day he'd be president, she just knew it! She would give her life for him. He was the most noble man in the world.
She'd started working for him a month ago. She hadn't loved him at first sight. It had taken an hour or so, she recollected.
Chuck looked up from his work to see Suzy staring down at him. Immediately she blushed crimson and, mumbling something about work in the office, she scurried out of the room.
Chuck smiled after her. What a little doll she was, he thought. At first he'd been afraid to hire her, a young girl of seventeen. How accomplished a secretary could she be, he'd wondered. But there never was a worker like this little Suzy.
And how appealing she was! Not sexy. But appealing. Fresh, like a real young girl should be. The exact opposite of his wife, Pauline. Hell, Pauline had never looked different than she did today. Even when she was seventeen, she'd looked the same-like a hotel hooker.
But this Suzy, she was probably a virgin, the last of her kind in a corrupt world. An endangered species! Those large, trusting brown eyes, that long brown hair that she wore in braids, her budding young breasts under the white cashmere sweater, her little shapely legs as she sat at the desk, typing, taking dictation, making coffee, making phone calls.
Chuck sighed. She was a perfect secretary. She'd do anything he wanted.
Anything?
Chuck felt the first hints of lust rising from his loins. But he could never do it, not with any kid as sweet as Suzy Jo Hollander. He laughed at himself. Dirty Old Man, he thought. Only thirty five, and already a Dirty Old Man! He went back to his paper work.
Suzy Jo tapped timidly at the door. "Your Honor?"
"What is it, Suzy?" the Mayor asked. He hadn't really noticed how short she was. Why she couldn't be five feet tall. Four eleven at the most. A walking, talking, baby doll. Good God, Chuck thought, what I wouldn't do to eat the fresh dew out of that one's hive of honey.
"Your Honor, it's getting real late. I was wondering if there's any last minute work you'd want me to do before I go home."
"As a matter-of-fact, there is, Suzy Jo. One last dictation."
"I'll get my pad for the dictation," she said, happily.
Dictation, Chuck thought, savoring the sound of the word. I'd love to forget the dictation and concentrate on my dick.
Suzy Jo reentered the room, her little pad in her dainty hand. She took her seat next to the Mayor's large imposing desk.
"Ready, Sir," she said in her perky, clear young voice, as pure as the mountain springs outside the pollution of Eastport.
She crossed her legs and her white miniskirt rode up above her dimpled knees. She was staring down at her dictation pad, so Chuck allowed himself a last minute stare before they got down to business. He wondered what color panties she was wearing underneath that white miniskirt. Were the panties also white? And how did they set off her young virgin thatch-that entrance to her dewy duct?
God, he was sweating.
Suzy looked up, wondering what was taking so long. Chuck cleared his throat and began. 'This letter is to the Editor of the Eastport
Gazette. I was very disappointed in your recent editorial on the new South Side Housing Project. Surely you know that the Mayor alone cannot clear up the problem of prostitution that exists in every large city in America, just as it exists in Eastport."
Chuck looked up to see Suzy blush deep pink. He wondered if she even knew what the words meant.
He continued: "To blame this terrible social problem on the office of one man is an unfortunate and..."
Suzy coughed and said "Sir" timidly.
"Yes. What is it?" Chuck could see she wanted to ask him something, but she was quite embarrassed, her face a livid red.
"Excuse me, Your Honor, but you used a word before, I don't know how to, uh, spell it."
"Which word?"
Suzy looked down at her pad. "It came after you said, quote, the Mayor alone cannot clear up the problem of ... "
The Mayor chuckled. "The word is 'prostitution.' P-r-o-s-t-i-tu-t-i-o-n."
"Thank you," Suzy said, blushing as she copied the word in her mysterious shorthand symbols.
Chuck thought for a second. Maybe this was an opening wedge to use on her. "Maybe I could change that word. Maybe the word 'whore' would be stronger there. 'The problem of whoring.' How does that sound?"
"Sir, I'm really not a good judge of, uh, I mean, uh, I'm sure you know better about ... "
"About what, Suzy? About whores?"
Suzy looked mortified. "No! I mean ... better about the choice of words!"
"Well, let me hear you read them both back to me. I'll see which one reads better."
Suzy looked as red as a beet. "As you wish, Sir." She began to read back his own statements. "The Mayor alone cannot clear up the problem of prostitution that exists in every large city in America.' " Suzy gasped when she finished the second sentence, obviously glad to be done with such a task.
Chuck felt the waves of lust rising from his loins. Jesus, he thought. This kid would be the first virgin I've ever had. Pauline was no virgin by the time I got to her. But Suzy is pure, I just know it!
I've got to have her, he thought. She is the key to my youth! She is youth. I've got to get inside her purity.
"Let me finish the letter now, Suzy. Quote, I hope my bill will be passed by the state legislature so as to enable us to fund a new program to get the undesirable elements off the South Side of Eastport. Sign it the usual way."
"I'll type it up right away," Suzy gushed, rising from her chair. As she was leaving, she added "You always write the strongest letters, Your Honor. I mean-it's just such an honor working for Your Honor, I mean, excuse me..." she scurried out of the room.
Chuck watched her walk out the door of his private office. Then he got up immediately and began to pace about the floor. He couldn't take it any longer. He'd have to hire a new secretary. The little girl would have to go. She was too pure for him, too pure for her own good. Too good for him!
He took a drink of water from his office fountain. It's like I'm a hung-up teenager all over again, he thought. And I don't dig it a bit. She's America's sweetheart, and I'm America's Dirty Old Man, he laughed.
No, he'd have to let her go. He'd tell her, her work was unsatisfactory.
"You buzzed?" Suzy smiled up to him.
God, this was going to be a bitch to do, Chuck realized. "Suzy, soon you will have finished your first month here with me."
"Tomorrow at 4:23 in the afternoon," she beamed.
"Yes. Well, remember how at first I wasn't sure a young girl, as inexperienced as yourself, could handle all the responsibilities of being the secretary of the Mayor of Eastport?"
"Yes," Suzy smiled, anticipating a compliment.
"Well, it seems my..." Chuck searched for the right word. "My fears were not groundless. I think I'm going to have to let you go."
Her dictation pad fell to the floor and Suzy slumped over with a thud.
"Suzy!" The Mayor ran over and threw his arms around her. "Say something! Are you all right?" He ran over and got her a glass of water. "Drink this. That's a good girl."
Soon her trusting, soulful brown eyes were open again. She was looking straight up at him. "I ... I'm fired?" she sobbed.
"No! Never!" He threw his arms tighter around her, stroking her long braided brown hair, letting his elbow graze her budding breasts.
Suzy responded by hugging him closer to her. Chuck felt the thrust of lust emanating upwards. Finally! He was holding her at last, this child, this girl-woman, this angel! He smelled the scrubbed scent of her Ail-American beauty. Her whole body smelled like baby powder. Ail-American, all his!
God, he had to have her. He had to get inside that innocence. He had to thrust his experienced penis up that innocent enclave. He had to feel his hard hammer battering up against her hymen. Then to plunge through into that soft twat, as clear as the dew in the morning. Oh God, he had to get inside that.
But looking down at her, Chuck wondered how smart that would be. Chuck Parker stood six feet five inches, and his cock was similarly proportioned. Suzy could hardly have been four feet eleven. And if she really was a virgin...
Chuck flicked the light off with his remote control switch. He led Suzy over to the couch in the corner of the office. She was hanging on his arm like an obedient young schoolgirl.
They settled down on the leather couch. Chuck unbuttoned her white cashmere sweater. He removed her miniscule bra, revealing her perfect miniature little breasts, her childish titties, with nipples like a little dolly. Oh God, he was hot for her untried twat!
He cradled both tiny titties in his one hand and moved the other down over her smooth, fresh young body. He felt the firm belly, the incredibly small waist, the curving hips. Suzy held him tight, trustingly.
Chuck's arms covered the length of her body, approaching her legs. He kneaded the dough of her dewy thighs, causing her to moan gently and part her legs. He undid the miniskirt. Then he looked down at her.
She was lying before him, naked except for her panties, a child sacrifice to the gods, he laughed. Virgin blood for King Kong.
Chuck stood up and shucked off his suit and undershorts. Then he lay his firm, long naked body against her, letting his elephantine erection rub against the soft silk of her panties. The soft cool white of her panties. Underneath he could feel the hot honey of her love hole.
He took his own cock in his hands and used it as a battering ramrod to roll down the elastic of her panties, to reveal his virgin goddess naked.
"Honey," he moaned, "Little honey" he whispered, stroking Suzy's baby fine pubic hair with his strong hand. He'd never felt pussy hair that soft, it wasn't even a pussy, it was a kitty, a kitten's cunt he was stroking.
"My kitty," he whispered. "My kitten has a soft pussy," he said to her as with one of his fingers he approached the entrance to that innocence.
But Suzy, who had been lying there so passive and acquiescent, now seemed to stiffen up. She opened her large brown eyes and looked at him, half in love, half in terror. "I've never been..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. Chuck knew she was telling the truth. She'd never been fucked. And he couldn't do it.
No, he couldn't be the first one to ball her. Not with his thing, his huge cock in her temple of twat, it would never work, it was like Mutt and Jeff, unfair, unkind, impractical.
Better to warm her up with his tongue. That might get her more into it.
Chuck held her baby breasts in one hand, and he could feel that little heart beating wildly underneath as he went down on her. His face approached her silken thatch. He smelled the tangy honey of her young snatch.
He entered with his pulsing tongue, lapping his way into her love hole.
Suzy held him tightly, as tight as her little body could hold on to anything. Her fingernails dug into his flesh.
Then abruptly Chuck pulled his tongue out. You have to go slowly with these new ones, he thought. Or else they get the idea that sex is just a free hand jerking them off.
"Now you eat me," he said to her softly.
Suzy blinked incredulously. "What?" she asked.
"Go down on me, Baby, the way I just did to you," Chuck said. He tried to guide her head but she was resistant. "Go down on me, Suzy," he said in a stern, fatherly tone of voice.
Suzy lowered her neck and opened her child-sized mouth as she approached Chuck's cock. She licked the head once or twice, very tentatively.
"Go down on it," Chuck insisted. "It won't bite you!"
Suzy licked him up and down, slowly at first, then seeming to get more into it. Chuck lay back and ran his hands through her soft brown hair.
"Open your mouth wider, kitten, take it in your mouth, the way I did to you."
Suzy looked at the size of the throbbing tool and wondered if she could do the trick. She opened her mouth its fullest expanse, just enough to accommodate the head of the pulsing prick.
"My little kitten, my little dolly," the Mayor whispered, feeling his dick tingle inside her lips. "Let me in. Let me in further. Don't leave me out in the cold. Let me come in your warm little mouth."
Suzy was beginning to gag. "I can't ... I can't anymore."
But she saw how Chuck was already in another realm of pleasure, and she wanted to do it. She wanted to do anything for him. So she pushed her lips out more, feeling the tenseness in the corner of her mouth.
Chuck felt it too. "OOoohh, ooh, kitten," he groaned, pushing his penis further into her.
There seemed no end to it, Suzy thought. It was like a snake, or a monster sea serpent trying to find a warm, snug harbor.
Suzy coughed and sputtered.
"Don't stop now," Chuck moaned, gently but firmly. "Go down more! You can do it!"
He looked up at his secretary's tiny head bobbing up and down, trying to service his man-sized meat. She was so small, so fragile, so delicate, so dedicated to him. She was like a doll, like the doll his younger sister used to have when they were both teenagers. The doll he'd slit a vagina in, how he used to fuck that little dolly, his young cock, full of piss and vinegar in those days used to slide in and out of that cold cunt.
And now he had his own dolly. A warm one, though. His own living and talking and sucking doll!
"Eat me ... eat me, Dolly."
Suzy had moved the huge hulk down her throat. Beginner's luck, she thought. Beginner's luck, beginner's suck!"
Chuck wondered where the hell she was putting it all. His cock inside her must reach all the way down to the beginning of her cunt. Little Suzy! She'd do anything for him!
"Suck on it ... suck, Suzy Doll, suck on it like a lollypop. Suck on my big hairy lollypop, in your little mouth, move your hair back but a little more athletic. ...
Oh, he'd been waiting for such purity all his life ... she was an angel. He closed his eyes, feeling quite religious. Lord, he thought, just let me worship in this shrine!
Now Suzy had stopped coughing. Chuck opened his eyes, just to make sure she was still all there.
This time Suzy was smiling as she was sucking him off. Her face had become a grown woman's, even if it was as small as a child's. She was sucking with a new abandon, sucking him off like a vacuum cleaner, sucking him with every inch of her four foot eleven inch body. Sucking him as if there would be no tomorrow.
Gee, Chuck thought, she's a fast learner.
She was so small that as her head was down on him, he could feel her little breasts bobbing against his thighs. He felt like he could just reach down and swallow her in one gulp, the way she was about to swallow his ocean of come.
I am coming, he thought. I'm coming . ... he thrust his thing in and out, so that he could feel his meat bulging against the borders of her deep throat. He felt the musculature of her throat close around him, sucking him like a whirlpool.
She was becoming like a demon, sucking him harder and harder ... he felt that if she sucked him any harder she'd pull him inside her. And there didn't look like there was any more room.
She was really into it ... as she would suck him, she would slide his surging sex out of her torrid throat, so he felt he was going to be left out in the cold. Then she'd suck him back into her, only deeper, deeper, deeper and deeper, until he felt he'd see his sleek surging cock break through her rib cage.
Deeper, deeper, deeper.
Chuck reared up and shot his hot lust load into her deep throat just when he felt he couldn't hold back any longer.
"Oh, Honey," he held her close to him. "Oh, you took my large load of lust into you. Oh, Baby Doll."
When he looked down at her, she looked a good five years older than she had before. Well, he thought, she can certainly use the protein.
Now, he thought, for a few moments of pleasant rest. He closed his eyes and thought of the lovely summer that seemed around the corner.
Suzy broke free from his embrace. She stood up, small and naked in the moonlight that had flooded the Mayor's office.
"Stand up ... too..." she said in a choked voice.
Chuck reluctantly got to his feet. He laughed to himself to see that when they stood together Suzy only came up to his solid muscular chest. What a little angel she was.
Suzy threw her arms around his waist and planted a ferocious lust kiss on his chest, digging her teeth deep into him.
"Hey!" Chuck laughed. "Ouch! That can hurt!" He laughed again uneasily. "I mean it. Cut that out." He gently pushed her away from him.
Suzy also laughed, as if she realized the joke. But then she did it again. She bent down and took one of his bullish balls in her mouth. She was still raring to go.
I've created a monster, Chuck thought. What have I unleashed on the world? She's blowing my balls, and I'm late for a meeting with my Budget Director.
"Honey, Suzy Jo, I really have to go. I have a meeting. We'll have more time in the future. This isn't the end."
But he saw that his little girl scout had been transformed. What had done it, he wondered? Was it his hot come, floating around in her that had unleashed this Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde transformation? She just wouldn't let go of his balls. And she was trying to pull him back down on top of her.
"Suzy Jo ... Miss Hollander, please! I really have to go."
"Oh, please come again," she whimpered. "In my mouth, up my twat, into my ass. Please, please come again."
"I can't come. I have to go," Chuck explained.
"Oh Chuck, Chuck, suck, fuck," she moaned. 'Then eat me, eat me, like you taught me to do, eat me up."
"But Suzy, I have a meeting. I can't eat you now. I have to run."
"So eat and run," Suzy begged.
Chuck eased his ravaged balls out of the vampire's mouth. They were red, and he could swear they looked swollen. What had he created!
"My little lust box," he cooed, "there'll be plenty of other times for me to do this." And, as if to assure her, he just placed his finger at the entrance of her petite pussy.
Suzy shrieked and grabbed his outstretched finger. She pulled it inside of her and, wrapping legs around him, climaxed like a woman possessed.
"My little lust box!" This time Chuck meant it seriously. My, she could even teach Pauline a few tricks. And Pauline had been turning tricks since she was twelve!
Suzy stood up and picked up her dictation pad. "I'll go type that letter now," she said, smiling slightly.
"Yes," Chuck agreed. "That would be a good idea.
After she left the room, Chuck staggered over to his desk for a well-deserved rest. He looked down at his cock and saw the outlines of her pearly teeth.
This would be an interesting summer, he thought.
CHAPTER THREE
Pauline saw her husband drive up. She rang the intercom impatiently, "Waldo! Waldo!"
"What is it, Mrs. Parker?" the grinning houseboy asked.
"What the hell are you always laughing about, you scum! Get me a drink and tell that fucking husband of mine to get his ass up here lickety split!"
Waldo turned to leave. Then Pauline thought of something else. "No, wait a minute. Don't tell him that. I have something else to attend to."
"Going to make a phone call, Missy?" the houseboy asked, laughing as he closed the door behind him.
Pauline was about to call him back to find out what the hell he was always laughing about. But she had better things to do. She was after bigger game.
She picked up the phone and dialed the office of the Eastport Gazette. "Let me talk to gossip columnist Muriel Oates. This is an anonymous phone call with a hot tip for her."
"One moment," the switchboard answered. Then she covered the receiver and yelled, "Hey, Muriel, it's the Mayor's batty wife!"
"Hello. This is Miss Oates. What is the story?"
"Here's the tip, drip," Pauline laughed, taking a swig from her drink. "Tonight the Mayor's vice squad is going to raid that sex bar on the South Side."
"The Lavender Lick?" Muriel asked breathlessly.
"You got it, sister. And here's the flash. You want a hot story, you go there tonight at ten o'clock and get a load of the clients getting arrested. There's going to be big fish in that polluted pond!"
"Madame, who are you?" Muriel Oates asked.
"The tooth fairy, that's who!" Pauline snorted and hung up.
Then she crossed over to the full-length mirror. She slipped off her nightgown. It wouldn't look good for her to be wearing the same nightgown that he'd seen her in this morning. She wanted to make the effort to look nice for Chuck. Because tonight it was all or nothing.
Funny thing about sex, she thought. The more you get, the more you want. Seeing Dean Crawford this morning had put her in just the right frame of mind to get something on for tonight.
She selected a flimsy orange nightgown. Her lucky color. She applied a dab of perfume behind the ears, the kind that used to make him go wild, she remembered. If tonight he couldn't get it on, she'd have her proof that he was slipping it into someone else on the side. Then she'd get him, she would! The lousy scum!
"Hey! Dildo!" she roared over the intercom.
The houseboy opened the door. "The name is Waldo, Ma'am."
"Yeah, whatever. Tell His Honor he can come up now."
"I'll tell him he can come now. I hope he wants to come now. Sometimes you want him to come, but he doesn't want to come," Waldo chuckled as he closed the door behind him.
Jesus, Pauline thought. What does this guy know that he's always making little remarks? He was beginning to upset her. And Pauline needed a clear head to put tonight's plan into operation.
A few minutes later Chuck Parker came trudging up the steps. "What is it, Pauline? Anything new?"
"Yeah, something's new," She pulled open her nightgown. "Someone planted a seed in my cunt and I grew a new cut. Take a look."
"Don't talk like such a pig, Pauline," her husband rebuked her.
"Then don't ask me such lame ass questions. What's new? What kind of crap is that?" Pauline rebuttoned her nightgown. Then she changed her strident tone of voice and tried to sound sexy. "Come, he down here on the bed, Chuckie. Give it to Mamma, the way you used to. I'm hot for you, honey."
Chuck groaned. Not this again. "I'm really tired, Pauline. I have a terrible headache."
"You have a headache. Well ain't that a hot one! Mamma's got the hots and Papa's got the headache! That's a switch on the American dream." Then Pauline moved to put her plan into operation. "I'll get you something for your headache." And before Chuck could stop her, his wife bolted into the bathroom.
Chuck sighed. He'd let her give him an aspirin or two, then just pretend that they didn't work. But sooner or later he was going to have to do something. But what?
Divorce? Unthinkable for a politician in the middle of an election campaign. But he couldn't keep her satisfied-it would take a whole football team to do that! And besides, now with young Suzy on his hands-
What to do-how to get rid of this raging nymphomaniac who was hell-bent to suck him into oblivion.
Pauline reached for the two sleeping tablets Dean had instructed her to give to her husband. From the bathroom she dimmed the lights in the bedroom, just in case he was watching. But he'd never know what he was taking. She knew it would work. Knock him out cold. Then she'd find out what he was really up to-why her raging bull had become a stumbling steer.
"Here you go, honey. This'll help your headache." Then Pauline reached down and goosed him. "And if it cures your headache, it'll do wonders for mine!"
She. let go of his cock and handed him the pills, which he took like an infant. "Now let's relax in bed." She led him by the hand to the mournfully. "My whole body is tired. Every muscle is aching."
"Every one?" Pauline asked. She reached down with her smooth arms to feel the muscle she was interested in. It lay there, limp and flaccid, "fagged out" as they say in Britain.
"I'm sorry, Pauline. I told you I wouldn't be able to get it on tonight. I'm really tired. If I could just lie back for a few winks-second-wi--. "
He never finished the sentence. He was out.
"You bastard," Pauline snorted. Then she got up and turned on the lights. If I discover there's someone else, she thought, you are dead. Your goose is cooked.
Once the lights were on, Pauline went back over to her bed. Her husband was seemingly sound asleep.
"Chuck-Chuck-" she whispered in his ear. "This is your Mamma talking. You will answer all my questions. Mamma has a few things she would like to know."
"Okay, Mamma," Chuck answered obediently, heavily influenced by the powerful drug.
As she talked, Pauline unfastened her husband's belt and reached under his shorts to grab hold of his limp cock. "Mamma wants to know why you don't want it tonight."
"So tired-" her husband answered.
"Tired from what?" she prodded, jerking his cock in her hand, and opening her nightgown so that, should he come to life, she could slip it in.
"Tired from work," her husband answered. "And from all the other-"
"The other?" Pauline flashed.
"Yeah," Chuck replied, under the influence of the merciless truth drug.
And then Pauline saw it.
The red tooth marks on her husband's cock.
Now it was confirmed. Now there was no turning back.
"Who is the other? Tell Mamma!" Pauline commanded.
"Today it was Suzy Jo Hollander, the new secretary. Yesterday it was Muriel Oates from the Gazette. Friday it was Karin-"
"Thank you, Sucker!" Pauline flung his meat back at him, and saw him stiffen up with a surge of pain.
"What the-" he was half awake, half asleep.
"Shhh, go to sleep. Mamma's sorry," Pauline said in a soothing voice. She watched him settle back into drugged slumber. "Mamma's sorry," she repeated. "But you'll be sorrier!"
Pauline tiptoed out. She called to the houseboy. "Waldo, get the convertible out from the garage. The orange one."
"Going somewhere with His Honor?" Waldo asked.
"No. I'm going somewhere with my honor," she laughed shrilly. Then she added, "Waldo, you keep asking so many questions and you're going to be out on your ass!"
"I doubt that," the grinning houseboy said, heading to the garage. Pauline tiptoed back into the bedroom. She looked-through the closet. It had to be something young, something kinky. She selected a bright orange hot pants and flimsy see-through top. With her huge, bulging tits, she knew that style suited her. It showed her off for what she was-still young and firm, and all woman. Not some prissy high school girl scout.
Just to fit into the scene she knew she would be in, Pauline put some orange glitter on her nipples.
Now she was ready, she thought. She turned to face her snoring husband. You bastard, I'll get you if it's the last event in my existence. And it just might be.
But God, Pauline thought, I still feel something for this guy. Nobody has such hot sizzling meat-nobody else's tongue ever knew how to eat into her entrails. Lapping up her cunt. Oh, what fond memories!
Pauline shook her head in determination. Fuck those memories. It's the present that counts. She took a last look at herself in the mirror. She was dynamite. She was ready.
"Missy looks real cool tonight."
Waldo opened the door of the shiny orange convertible for her. "Thank you," she said, coldly.
"Should I tell anyone you left?" Waldo asked.
"They'll all know soon enough," Pauline smiled, slamming the door behind her, and racing off down the driveway.
The Lavender Lick was notorious throughout Eastport. It was a juice bar, a hangout for the wealthy kids of wealthy families. Because it was a juice bar and didn't have a liquor license, it could serve the kids without their parents worrying about them taking spirits.
Of course popping pills and shooting dope, that was another story. And it was drugs and drugged sex that made the Lavender Lick famous. And that was why they were going to raid it tonight.
Pauline parked her car around the corner from the Lick. She checked her hair in the rear view mirror. It was red, full and long, the way the girls wore it. In the dim light of the dancing floor, no one would know she was any older than seventeen. What a hot time she would have. And how Chuck would squirm when she herself-the Mayor's virtuous wife-was among those caught in the raid.
The doorman smiled broadly at her. She felt a tingle herself as she saw him look down at her full, succulent breasts barely hidden under the flimsy blouse.
Hot damn, she thought. If I turn on the doorman, and he sees a thousand teenies' titties a night, I must really look super!
The place was packed. Records were being played, and some of the kids were dancing. Others were stumbling around, in varying stages of drug-induced stupor. Some were asleep on the tables. Others were nodding out on the floor. Some danced together, asleep on each other's shoulders.
Welcome to the Senior Prom, Pauline thought.
"Hey!" Pauline screamed. A young boy had surprised her from behind, grabbing hold of her firm breasts. He started humping her succulent ass with his hard ramrod. "Cut that out!"
"What's the matter with you? Don't be so uptight. Don't you dance?"
"Is that what that's called?" She was about to say they didn't call that dancing in her day, but she didn't want to give away her age.
"Sure, that's new dance step," he laughed, humping her from behind as he spoke.
"The funky chicken?" Pauline queried.
"Nah, the horny hippo." He squeezed her firm tits harder, and with the other hand he began exploring her body.
Pauline was getting turned on. She relaxed a bit so that she could feel his hardness behind her. They were cute at that age, she had to admit.
The boy's free hand was moving down to the border of Pauline's hot pants. "No, stop, now! That's enough. Really!"
"Forget it, chick," he said soothingly. "No one cares what the hell you do here. Everyone's so spaced out on drugs-nobody's watching us-everybody is into their own thing." He felt the first silken hints of her snatch. "Everyone's into their own thing-and I'd love to get into yours. Ram my young ramrod up your juicy pussy-you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Pauline was divided. "I'm really going to have to ask you to please stopOooh, do that again!"
His finger had entered her flaming hole. She was starting to get really excited. He seemed so athletic-one hand squeezing her ripe tits, the otherhumming into her hot pussy. And the third member of the team assaulting her ass.
"My car is parked outside," Pauline whispered. "Would you like to-Hey!"
The boy slumped to the floor. "What the hell!" Pauline snorted.
The doorman came over. "Too many pills," he said, shaking his head.
"Is he-dead?" Pauline asked, haltingly.
"Nah, they never die, these punks. He'll just crash for a while, then wake up raring to go, to take more pills. That's the way to live. You kids! You kids!" he shook his head in disgust, then slowly walked away.
Pauline felt pretty disgusted herself. Just when she was warming up, he worms out. She looked around. They were all like that. All the kids looked so unsteady, like if you blew hard enough they'd fall over in the wind.
No wonder they were raiding this place, Pauline thought to herself. And wouldn't her ever-loving hubby be pissed to know who turns out to be in the raid! Ever-loving hubby, she snorted. Ever-loving everybody else but her!
Pauline looked for the bathroom, but couldn't seem to find it. She would have to ask someone. She tried to sound like the kids she saw as she approached another young girl.
"Hey, sister, like where's the ladies room?"
The girl looked stoned dead. "Fuck off, sweetie. There are no "Ladies" here." She walked off.
Pauline wondered if she'd said the wrong thing. She approached a young couple. "Hey, kids, where's the john?"
The boy stared at her with bloodshot eyes. "I'm John. Who's looking for me?"
His girlfriend seemed angry. "You keep away from John, you cocksucker!"
"I think you misunderstand me," Pauline ventured. "I'm not looking for John. I'm looking for a john, a toilet. You dig?"
"Oh, so you're not looking for John; he's good enough for me, but you wouldn't let him near those big purple tits of yours, huh?" The girl pulled out a knife. "Get lost, sister! John is my man. If I ever see you around him again, I'll slit your fuckin' tits off your chest and feed them to my dog. You hear? Stay away from John!"
Pauline hurried away. As she turned she heard the girl ask her boyfriend, "Who is that red-haired chick?"
"I knew her a few years ago," the boy mumbled.
Pauline shook her head. They were right to be closing down this hell hole! What had the youth of America sunk to?
But that wasn't the most important thing on her mind. She had to find a ladies room and a nice clean toilet.
Pauline approached a bespectacled boy with curly brown hair. She decided to use a direct approach.
"Hey, can you help me out? I gotta pee."
He seemed helpful. "Sure, follow me, right this way. My name is Jack, by the way."
He led her down a corridor, past several sleeping, snoring kids. Then up a staircase. Pauline breathed a sigh of relief. She seemed to have found someone normal.
The top floor of the Lavender Lick was very dimly lit, even darker than the main floor. Pauline cold hardly see where she was going. And with her six-inch-high platform shoes, she had to be careful.
"Which way?" she asked Jack.
'This way, baby!" he sprang down on the floor beneath her. He opened his mouth wide and pointed. "Feed me, Mamma. Feed your baby!"
Pauline didn't know what he wanted. Her expression must have shown it. The boy reached up and in a swift movement undid her hot pants, slipping them down to Pauline's dimpled knees.
"What's coming off?" Pauline asked, frightened, not understanding what he was doing.
"What's coming off?" Jack laughed. "You are, baby. Right in my mouth." He slipped her panties down and held on to her knees. His mouth was stretched open right near her cunt. "Do it, Mamma!"
"Look, you creep," Pauline yelled. "I don't want anyone to eat me now. I told you, I have to piss!"
"And what the hell do you think I'm talking about? Drop your pee in my mouth. Let me take your piss," Jack begged. "Let me take your pussy pee."
Now she understood. She'd heard about these aberrations, but this was one she'd never tried. The thought did turn her on. Maybe it was the strange atmosphere of the place that was removing inhibitions. Maybe it was the sight of the young guy's open mouth on her pussy.
Or maybe it was just that she really had to pee, and there might not be a bathroom in the place.
For whatever reason she decided to feed her new friend. "Here goes, buster."
Jack opened his mouth wide. He tingled with anticipation of the golden drops that were soon to be his. He'd eaten everything else-pussy juice-once, after his girlfriend had blown him, he'd kissed her and tasted his own hot come! Now he wanted to take this red-haired beauty's flaming golden pee.
Pauline undulated her hips on top of him trying to make her piss come faster. At first she felt she couldn't. Jack sensed her tenseness. With his arms he moved behind her juicy, fleshy buttocks and grabbed them hard. He pushed forward, rolled them around in his arms-it felt as though they were the pump that controlled the pussy piss-succulent buttocks-sweet piss-he sucked and whooshed, trying to make the golden shower come his way.
She reared back and let it flow-Jack felt the sweet flood pour into him in a surging stream. He helped it come, sucking it out with his vacuum cleaner mouth.
He looked up to see what the expression on the woman's face was. She must be new at this, he thought. Her eyes were closed, but in the excitement she'd moved her hands on top of his, where they were resting on her pink buttocks.
Then he felt her tense up, like it was all over. He stood up, licking his lips. "Good to the last drop," he laughed, and then he dashed down the steps.
Pauline leaned against the banister. That had been an unusual surprise, she thought. The Lavender Lick wasn't so bad after all. But it was a little like Halloween-you never knew whether it would be trick or treat.
She began walking downstairs. So this was what the younger generation was into. Well, with sex like that, you didn't have to worry about birth control. Pauline had always heard the expression that young boys were full of piss and vinegar. At least she could vouch for half of it.
Pauline reached the main floor and turned down what she thought was the same corridor Jack had led her through. But it was a different one. And there in the middle of the dimly lit corridor was a door with the word bathroom. Well, good things come to those who wait, she thought. I may as well go in and fix my hair, Pauline decided.
She should have know. After all, it hadn't said Ladies Room. And it hadn't said Men's Room. It had just said Bathroom.
Pauline was inside her first coed bathroom. A unisex urinal.
Some of the stalls had doors. Some didn't. Through one she could see a pair of high heel shoes. Were they men's or women's? You couldn't tell anything today.
She looked around. It was very dark, darker than the corridors. Some of the kids seemed to have fallen asleep, crashing on the drugs. Others were nonchalantly involved in urination and defecation. Some were having sex in a sort of absent-minded way.
Good Lord, Pauline thought, it's time to go. I hope they raid this place soon.
"Don't go, chickie. Chicken Little!" A young girl reached up from the floor and grabbed Pauline's leg.
"Let go. I think you've made a mistake, sister. Take another look," Pauline smiled, trying to be a good sport about it.
"I didn't make any mistake, chickie," said the girl with a smile. Her teeth were blindingly white, particularly when set off by that blue black hair. She was quite beautiful, Pauline thought. But in a sick, evil way. She had been lying on the floor having her cunt eaten by a young man. Now he had apparently fallen asleep in her lap. She reached up from the floor to stroke Pauline's shapely legs.
"No-Moana never makes a mistake," she laughed shrilly, flashing her smile.
"Let go of my legs," Pauline insisted, "I want to leave. This room turns me off."
Moana laughed. "It turns her off! It turns her off! Chickie, don't you know where you are now? You are in hell! This room is hell! Feel how warm the floor is. It's made of fire and brimstone. Feel it, chickie-warm, pulsing, hot-like my hot black twat-get down on your knees, chickie! Lick that floor! Lick my twat!"
Moana jerked her pelvis, flicking the sleeping boy off her lap. Then she pulled on Pauline's legs. "Come down. Come down, I tell you! Moana wants you! Down, you cunt!"
Moana was as strong as a man. She dragged
Pauline to the floor in a fast jerk. Pauline landed on top of her.
Moana laughed shrilly and pounced on Pauline's succulent tits. She held one in her hand, running her silver fingernails over the sensitive nipples. Then she brought her mouth down upon it.
What am I doing, Pauline thought. But she was powerless. She couldn't move. She was erotically hypnotized by black-haired Moana.
Moana sucked on Pauline's breast like a starving motherless child. Pauline felt it all on her nipples-felt them filling Moana's mouth. They felt like they were swelling in size. She sucked hard. Oh, Moana, Pauline thought, no man has ever known how to milk my mammaries like you-
But then Moana released Pauline's trembling tits. She started licking her way down Pauline's body-down her rib cage, her hips-moaning softly as she went along, Pauline thought that Moana's long pointed tongue sought out her cunt.
But once Moana licked down to that honeyed destination of Pauline's other lovers, she didn't stop. She licked a little, but she kept going, in search of new forbidden pastures of pleasure.
Pauline held her tight. She made her own tentative moves, running her hands across
Moana's own large breasts. Someone opened the door, and in the light from the hallway, Pauline saw a tattoo on Moana's left tit. It said, in silver, "Mother." It was a miniscule picture of a naked woman, the kind sailors used to have. Pauline wondered, had Moana started life as a-
No, Moana was all woman, all right. Those full, firm tits, those striking long legs. In normal circumstances, Pauline would even be jealous of any girl as striking as black-haired Moana.
Pauline moved her hands across her small waist. She stroked her long blue-black hair cascading down her back.
Moana had maneuvered so that her tongue was licking the crack between Pauline's two ass cheeks-the two succulent, fleshy boobs of her behind.
"Oh-" Pauline found herself moaning, "Oh, kiss my crack-kiss that crack-bite it! Blow it!" My God, Pauline thought, she's making me wild!
Moana's shrewd tongue licked its way through the crack and entered the new orifice. She was eating Pauline's ass-hole as she held those juicy buttocks in her hands.
Pauline thought there's no end to it. I'm in hell! I'm in hell-and I love it!!
"Eat me, Moana-eat me!" Pauline almost screamed, oblivious to the others in the room.
"Eat me, too," Moana echoed the order.
Pauline bent over and approached Moana's black honey hole, and without any foreplay or second thoughts, Pauline plunged her tongue into that dark hole.
So this is what men do, Pauline thought. This taste! This tantalizing tang of twat-this is what life is about. She burrowed deeper into Moana's black cunt as Moana's own tongue dug into her back door. Oh God, Pauline thought, thank God for hell!
A tall boy with a drooping mustache approached them and smiled. Pauline returned the smile unthinkingly. Moana didn't see anything-she was too absorbed in her exploration of Pauline's back door beauties.
The boy took the hint from Pauline. He knelt down and began to join in. He was stroking Pauline's belly with one hand and opening his Levi's with the other to unleash his own pulsing tool.
Moan looked up and saw what was going on. She eased her tongue out of Pauline's ass-hole. She dropped Pauline's pink buttocks to the cold tile floor and stood up.
"Get lost, you cocksucker!" Moana shrieked to the intruder. Then she grabbed his swollen sex out of Pauline's hand.
"No, Moana," the boy answered, pulling back his dick. "You get lost. This girl wants a real man."
Some of the others in the room stirred from their stupor, anticipating a fight. Pauline was afraid. What had she gotten into? Or, more to the point, what had she let get into her?
Moana reached under one of the stalls and came up with a six inch blade. "I saw her first. I'm eating this number. You get lost, or I'll cut off that cock!"
"Cut it off!" The boy laughed. "Sure, Moana, then you could save money on dildoes!" He turned to Pauline, "You come with me, let's split this freak scene."
"Look out!" Pauline shrieked.
When he had turned to speak to her, Moana had come up from behind and tried to plunge the knife into him. He had turned just in time. The knife grazed his shoulder.
"Why you fucking dyke!" he roared in pain, "I'll get you!"
"Oh, wow!" some of the other drugged kids in the room laughed, not really sure if what they saw was real or just a game for them to enjoy.
Pauline used the distraction to slip out the door.
She thought as she dashed down the corridor, I've been to hell and come out alive! Then she heard the police sirens.
Just as she'd planned it. She looked at her watch. Ten, exactly. The Lavender Lick was getting raided by the Mayor's Vice Squad. And among those caught would be the Mayor's charming wife, Pauline Parker.
Vengeance, thy name is woman, Pauline thought to herself.
"Don't anybody go anywhere," the burly police sergeant said. "This is a raid."
Pauline sighed. It was about time!
CHAPTER FOUR
Chuck Parker slept like a baby. He didn't wake up till nine the next morning. He might have slept longer, if it hadn't been for the frantic prodding of the houseboy, Waldo.
"Mr. Parker! Mayor Parker! Get up! Get up! We're in trouble! Mrs. Parker's been arrested!"
"Huhn, whazzat?" Chuck asked, bleary-eyed and still half asleep.
"Mrs. Parker's been arrested!"
"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked, waking up pretty fast on news like that.
Waldo screamed it at the top of his lungs. "I said Mrs. Parker's been arrested! She was at that hippy sex bar, The Lavendar Lick. And she was caught in a raid. She's in jail, I tell you!" he shouted.
"Pipe down!" Chuck said. "I feel like my head's splitting open. What did I drink last night?"
"You didn't drink anything. Don't you remember? You had a bad headache. Mrs. Parker gave you some medication."
"Hmmm," Chuck said, his arm on his chin in meditation, "that's right. I remember that. What did she give me? Where is Mrs. Parker now? I want to speak to her."
"Haven't you heard anything I've been saying?" Waldo wailed. Mrs. Parker's in jail! It's in all the newspapers. You've got to do something Mayor, and you've got to do it quick."
"You're right, Waldo," the Mayor agreed. "Get my office on the phone."
Waldo raced over to the phone, dialed the number and handed the phone to Chuck. "I'll get you your coffee, so you can hurry out of here."
"Hello, Suzy, this is the Mayor," Chuck began.
"Hello, Chuck darling."
Chuck covered the phone and looked behind him. No telling when that Waldo was listening in. "Suzy," he whispered, "don't call me that on the phone. On the phone it's Your Honor. On the couch it's..."
"I understand, Sir," she said. "It won't happen again."
"Suzy, have I gotten many calls about my wife's arrest?"
"All the papers, Sir. And the television stations. And your supporters. And Youth for Chuck Parker. And the Committee to Lower Grocery Prices and the..."
"Thank you, I get the general picture. What have you been telling everyone?"
"I've just been saying that they should await a statement from the Mayor."
"Fine. Let me do some hard thinking, Suzy, then I'll get back to you. You just keep stalling everyone, the way you've been handling it so far."
"Right on, Sir."
Chuck headed to the bathroom to shave and shower. What the hell was he going to do, Chuck wondered. Why had Pauline been at a sex bar? Was she out to destroy his career? What had gotten into that crazy cunt of a wife of his?
He'd have to come up with a plausible excuse for Pauline's behavior, but was there one now? Was there ever a reason for what Pauline did? Was her brain in her head or in her box?
Chuck thought of something. But would the press swallow it? He'd say that Pauline had been investigating The Lavendar Lick for him. She was working right along with the Vice Squad. Only the signals got crossed, and the raid took place a day earlier than scheduled. You know how government trips over its own tail in a big city like Eastport.
Would anyone believe that, Chuck wondered.
When he got out of the shower he called Suzy and told her the story. He instructed her to type up copies of the statement and send them out to the press. Meanwhile he'd drive down to the jail to bail out Pauline. He'd hold a press conference down there to clear the air.
Sure enough, the jail was surrounded by members of the Fourth Estate.
"Getting your wife out of the hooch, Your Honor?"
"What was the little woman doing at a sex bar, Mr. Mayor?"
"Are you going to retire from public office, Mr. Parker?"
Questions, question, questions. Chuck smiled broadly. "Boys, boys, calm down. You know you. always get the story straight from Chuck Parker. And this is no exception. Pauline, as you know, is very concerned about the reports she'd heard about the goings on at the ... what's the name of that place?"
"The Lavendar Lick," a woman reporter volunteered.
"Thank you. So she went there to investigate. The raid was supposed to take place the next day. Accidents will happen, you know. Even in the highest places. So, if you'd excuse me now..." he tried to break away from the cameras and cables, hoping to God they'd swallow his story.
He heard the guffaws behind him, of those who knew he was slinging shit and didn't like the smell. Oh well, maybe Pauline would have a reason for what she did. Either that or . ...
"Your Honor, one last question." He turned around. It was that handsome woman reporter from the Gazette, Muriel Oates.
"Yes, Miss Oates."
"Miz Oates," she corrected him, using the title of a Liberated Woman. "I'd just like to know what you think of Dean Crawford's announcement."
Chuck was struck dumb. "What announcement?"
Muriel Oates laughed. "Where have you been, Mr. Mayor? This morning Dean Crawford announced he was running for Mayor of Eastport. He said crime in the streets, drug abuse and permissiveness are the big issues in Eastport. Do you think your wife's arrest at a teenager's sex bar will be an issue, considering Dean Crawford's strong law and order campaign?"
Chuck smiled broadly. "Gee, Miz Oates, I guess you'll have to put that one to Crawford himself. I'm not running his campaign, you know. I'm having enough trouble with this one!"
The reporters laughed mildly, and Chuck trotted off into the station house.
Pauline was stretched out across the bed in the room they had given her to sleep in. The other kids were all herded across the hall. But once she had been recognized, she had been given a private room with a real bed.
And a private attendant. "May I get you anything, Mrs. Parker?"
Pauline looked up. It was the Sergeant who had been waiting on her hand and foot all night. She'd always liked a man in uniform, particularly a policeman. But she'd never gotten anywhere with one. They were all so law and order. One false move and they'd give you a ticket.
"No, Sergeant, I think you've gotten me everything I could possibly use. I don't think
I'll be staying here that long." Then Pauline smiled, to break the tension. "I haven't signed a lease, you know."
The beefy young sergeant broke into a wide grin. "That's a hot one," he chortled.
You bet your ass it is, Pauline thought. Then she got up from the bed and stretched. "Uramra. It's so restful here. So relaxing, you know. I never thought jail could be such a trip!"
"Well, I don't think that's everybody's experience," the sergeant said, casting a quick glance up and down his prisoner.
Pauline had turned back just in time to catch that flicker of desire in the sergeant's eye. Hmmm, she thought, never leave any stone unturned.
"I was so disappointed, though," she began, a bit teasingly. "I really expected the whole treatment."
"The whole treatment?" the sergeant blinked.
"Sure, you know, chains, handcuffs, grilled under a hot light, where were you the night of January 69. Don't you ever go to the movies, Sergeant?"
He smiled. "I see those things at the movies. But not down here, Miss."
Pauline laughed along with him. She lit a cigarette and curled up on the bed. "But surely, Sergeant, surely you must have some of that, what's the word? Hardware?"
"Well, we do keep a few things, you know, odds and ends."
Pauline dragged on her cigarette. "You know, I've never even seen what handcuffs look like, or any of those metal, evil things."
The sergeant wagged his finger. "Now, now, Mrs. Parker. Nothing is 'evil' but it's in the eyes of the beholder."
"You bet your ass!"
"Excuse me?" The sergeant straightened up, shocked.
Pauline thought quickly. "I said, 'could you get my glass, glass of water, you know, while you're getting those other things?"
"Oh," the sergeant smiled, "sure thing."
He opened the door. Then Pauline heard him quickly locking it from the other side. "Sorry I have to do this, Mrs. Parker, but you know the rules."
"It's no fun without rules," Pauline laughed.
The sergeant laughed from outside the door. "You sure are a heck of a good sport, Mrs. Parker."
Pauline got up from the bed and wandered around the small room. She was so restless. And she was absolutely dying to know what the papers had made of her arrest. But no one had any news here. They were cut off from the outside world.
Oh well, she thought, Chuck would get here soon. The expression on her bastard husband's face! That's what she was living to see! Didn't he know that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! There's no passion as strong as a woman whose pussy has been passed over!
The lock was opened from the other side. "Don't be afraid. It's me, Mrs. P."
"Oh is it?" Pauline said, bored. What a stupid crock of shit, she thought. Who else would it be, a fellow prisoner breaking in?
"And here's your glass of water."
Pauline took the glass of water and put it down on the table. Then her eyes caught the reflection of the shiny metal.
"Ummm, so that's what they look like, handcuffs." She picked them up in her hands, fascinated by them.
"See," the sergeant explained, "they hold the captive to you in case you're afraid they might escape."
"So clever! And what are these for, people with fat hands?"
The sergeant laughed. "No, Mrs. Parker. Those go on the ankle."
"Like the chain gang!" Pauline exclaimed in delight.
"Now you've got it," the sergeant said. Pauline held them in her hand, getting turned on by the feeling of cold hard steel. "And what else is in your little bag of tricks?"
"Well, Mrs. Parker," the sergeant started smiling, looking down at the floor, "some of these things, like the handcuffs, are officially used by the police force. Others are sort of things we've..." he stalled, looking around for the right word..."things we've confiscated from criminals, perverts, you know the type."
After last night I know the type, Pauline thought. "I'm dying to see some of those things too, Sergeant," she said, implementing her most brilliant, sexy smile, a plan already hatching in her mind.
"But Sergeant, I don't want to get you in trouble. And I noticed that when you came in just now, you didn't lock the door. Now what if I clubbed you and escaped through that door to Mexico. You'd lose your pension, wouldn't you!"
The sergeant raced to the door and locked it. "Thanks for telling me, Mrs. P. That is a sticky problem. But I'm glad you understand. They're very strict about these kinds of ... what the hell!! "
Pauline laughed like a little girl. "Now you know I can't get away. Aren't I a good girl?"
"Mrs. Parker, what have you done?" the sergeant looked down at the handcuffs that now attached her to him. "Where did you put the key," he demanded, in a school teacher's tone of voice.
"Gee, I had it right here," Pauline said, pointing to the bed. "I can't seem to locate it now. Did you ever?"
The sergeant bent down to look under the bed. "It's not here, either. Why did you want to go and do that for, Mrs. Parker?"
The sergeant shook his head in dismay. He didn't know what to make of this red-haired woman. Was she a loony? A psycho? Or an overgrown child?
"Let's forget about the key, Sergeant," Pauline said breathily. "It'll turn up. Show me what else you've got in that bag of tricks. I'm your prisoner now," she laughed. Then she added, "You got me," in a teasing voice.
The sergeant walked with her to the sack he'd brought in. He opened it and dumped it on the bed.
"A whip! A real whip!" Pauline grabbed it in her hands. "I haven't had a whip in my hands since I was a kid in Colorado, on the ranch Daddy owned."
She lightly flicked the whip towards the sergeant, ever so gently grazing his crotch. He flinched.
"Watch it, Miss. That's a lethal weapon." Pauline looked confused. She pointed to the sergeant's crotch. "That's a lethal weapon?" she asked.
"No. I mean the whip."
Pauline removed other assorted chains, clubs and rods. "You've got a real supermarket here. Hmmm, a ball and chain."
The sergeant shook his head. "You've got no idea of some of the weirdies we get down here!"
"Oh, don't underestimate me," Pauline smiled. "I have some idea."
"Yeah," the sergeant mused, "I can spot a weirdie a mile off. I got a hidden meter in here," he said, pointing to his head.
"No kidding. A mile off, you can spot them. Is that a fact," Pauline said sarcastically, putting the sergeant on without his knowing it.
"Sure. I'm a professional. I know my job."
Pauline sat down at the edge of the bed. "My, these handcuffs are starting to hurt me. If only we could get them off. Maybe you should take another look under the bed for the key."
"I'll look again," the sergeant agreed. "But I'm sure it wasn't down there."
"I'll sit here on the edge of the bed and you crawl under and see if the key is there ... I'll dangle my arm down to give you a long rein."
"Sure enough," the sergeant agreed, kneeling down lower under the bed.
Pauline seized the opportunity to unlock her half of the handcuffs and attach the sergeant to the metal border of the bed. Her touch was so gentle, the policeman didn't even feel the change in his handcuffs partner. Not until he emerged from under the bed.
"It's not there, Mrs. Parker. Hey! What the hell happened!" He was completely dumbfounded. Now he was attached to the iron border of the bed and the red-haired Mrs. Parker was standing across the room laughing, the whip in her hand.
"Mrs. Parker, did you find the key? I don't understand. Are you playing games with me?" he asked, innocently.
"Don't you talk about 'games' with me, Buster," Pauline said, pretending to be angry. "I know why you brought these things. You wanted it, didn't you. Well I'll give you a 'game' you won't soon forget!"
The sergeant was totally perplexed. What was she talking about?
Pauline stripped open the gray blouse they had given her to wear and her huge breasts fell free from the starched greyness of the prison uniform. She rubbed them and massaged them.
The sergeant's eyes were popping. He'd never seen such beautiful round melons before. Pauline looked up and saw him staring at her. She approached him where he sat on the floor attached by the handcuffs to the bed.
"These fucking uniforms," Pauline complained. "What do they think a woman is made of-wood? This thing was killing my soft skin. Feel how chafed the skin is here." She pointed to her hobbling breasts.
The sergeant felt a tingling in his hand. It was like he had smelled something good and his mouth was watering. But now he saw something good and his whole body was watering!
He reached up to touch the perfect, round tit. Then his conscience hit him. "I think that's enough of this now. And you," he wagged his finger in disapproval, "had better help me find that key."
Whamm! Pauline lashed his raised finger with her whip.
"Don't you tell me what to do! I'm Pauline Parker, you fat crock of shit! Now I already told you what to do ... feel how chafed my soft tittie is."
The sergeant lifted his arm to feel it.
"Again!" Pauline commanded. "You could hardly have felt it that way. Feel it, don't tickle it! Grab it! Squeeze it!"
The sergeant squeezed the firm tit in his hand. It was so soft. Yet so firm ... yielding, pliant, supple. The perfect breast of a perfect ... but no! He was on duty! He was a policeman!
"All right, Mrs. Parker. That uniform is too stiff. I've corroborated your story. I'll make a note to the laundry department not to use that much starch on the tops of the uniforms."
"The tops!" Pauline screeched. "It's not just the tops that chafe my delicate skin."
She put down the whip and began to shimmy out of the dull gray skirt of the prison uniform.
"I'm even more sore down here, down where a girl is just so sensitive. Do you know what I mean, Sergeant? So soft ... so silky. And then they make us wear these horrible uniforms."
The sergeant's eyes were bugging out of his head. She had taken off the whole uniform and was standing there in front of him in just her panties. He gulped. What if someone should come in? No ... he'd locked the door. They were safe.
He'd do it, he would! He'd charge right on top of her and shove his lusting law and order up her criminal cunt.
"Ouuuch!! ! Goddam!! "
He'd forgotten he was still attached to the bed. He fell back hard on his ass.
"Why were you getting up? I didn't say you could get up!" Pauline feigned anger. "You're my prisoner now." She bent down and picked up the whip.
"I was getting up to go over to you and stick this prick up your goddam hot twat! 'Cause I know you want it, you cock teaser. You want it, don't you!"
The whip lashed out and attached to his prick. But gently. Pauline knew how to do these things.
"I'll tell you what I want when I want it. I'm making the rules here, not you!"
By this time the sergeant had forgotten he was a policeman. He'd forgotten everything but the rising mountain of meat that he wanted to submerge in that red-haired devil's duct. And he'd do it, by God! Even if the Mayor himself should walk in that very door ... he had to get inside this red-haired devil woman!
Pauline let go of his cock with the whip. She went over to the bag to see what else was in it. The sergeant used the opportunity to reach up and peel the panties off to reveal her pink, precious buttocks.
"Oh come down here, come down here, Mrs. Parker," the sergeant groaned.
"Cut that shit!" Pauline lashed out again with the whip. But much softer. And the sergeant noticed that she didn't bother to lift the panties up. Oh, if only she'd turn around, he prayed. If only he could see the red flame colored hair of that pussy!
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Pauline opened the bag. Holding just the whip in her hand, she approached the bed.
The sergeant watched her approach him. Even in this dim light that copper red snatch was as bright as the rising sun. Oh God, he thought, Fd like to rise inside there!
Pauline was smiling at him. She bent down so that her ample breasts were almost in his face. He reached up to lick those mammary melons.
With a laugh, Pauline pulled away. And the sergeant, handcuffed to the bed, was powerless to do anything but moan.
Pauline flicked him gently with the whip. "Want a touch," she teased, bending down low, proffering this time not her huge bulging boobs, but her tangy pussy. "Come on," she said, encouragingly, "I'll let you touch it."
"Hell, girl, I don't want to finger fuck your flaming pussy. Let me get my cock out and stick it up! That'll make you feel good, baby!"
Bammm! The whip lashed out.
"You do what I tell you to!" Pauline cried. "I'm mistress of these ceremonies."
"Well what is it you want, then?" he moaned. "Can't you see me bursting out of my head here? Let me go and let's go at it!"
Pauline squatted down low, almost shoving her copper-colored cunt in his face. "Smell it?" she said invitingly. "Stick your finger in." He obeyed her. 'That's it ... " she moaned. "Stick it in as far as you can go ... wriggle it around more, move it around more inside my box."
"You don't need to tell me how to do it. I'm an old hand at this!" the sergeant confided.
"Now take it out ... what does it feel like? What does it smell like? Good, I bet," Pauline cooed. "Let me smell it, too. Ummmm!"
"Honey, let me stick my cock in. It'll go further than this old finger. A cock in the box is worth two fingers in the bush," he laughed.
The whip lashed out around his neck!
"Don't you tell me how to run my cunt!" Pauline said in a scalding voice. "I'm the queen of my cunt and I decide who comes in my country! And your dick isn't getting past the border!"
"No?" the sergeant groaned dejectedly.
"That's right," Pauline said emphatically. "The answer is no!"
"Oh Jesus, honey, let me in that copper cunt ... let my big cock coil around inside you." He was wild with lust. Pauline wondered if he might have the strength to rip his arm out of the handcuffs.
"Hold on, tiger," she began soothingly. "I didn't say you couldn't get inside. I just said your big old cock can't."
"What do you mean?" the sergeant asked, genuinely perplexed.
"Think it over, Beefy. Are you a man or a cock?"
"I'm a man, honey. But I ain't small enough to crawl into your twat. Nature meant the cock to do the man's work!"
"Well listen, Cockeye, you're talking to Mother Nature. And I know tricks you never learned, Father Time. I say your fat old cock can't come in my cute little cunt."
"No?" the sergeant repeated sadly.
"But there are other parts of you, aren't there, Big Boy?" Pauline squatted down again, her squatting twat in front of his face. "You get the picture? Dinner's on the table! Stick your big tongue in and lap it up, Laddie!"
The sergeant stiffened up. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I don't eat pussy."
Pauline turned as red as her red-haired cunt. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. I'm a man, goddam it. I'll fuck you up to second floor! But I don't eat pussy!"
Whammm! The whip lashed out, this time inflicting real pain on the obstinate moralist.
"You'll eat my pussy or ... or..." Pauline thought for a second, "or III piss in your mouth!" She added the new addition to her sex catalogue learned last night.
"I don't eat pussy," the sergeant repeated obstinately.
Pauline was livid with rage. "Why don't you eat pussy?"
"I don't know," the sergeant confided, "I just never developed the taste for it."
"But you like that tangy smell, don't you ... you like sticking your finger up my warm twat, don't you?"
"I ain't complaining."
"And you like fucking with that cock, right?"
"That's the specialty of the house."
"Well, you need a balanced diet," Pauline smiled to him sexily. She squatted down again, cradling his head in her hands, moving it towards her warm glowing glow-hole.
The sergeant felt confused. It was true, he'd never eaten pussy. He'd been curious, all right. But he'd never done it before. But if ever there was a cunt he wanted to lap, it was this one. He reached over and stroked her soft red hair, the guardian forest to that pussy palace.
He felt along her love lips, he entered the very hole itself with his probing finger. What would it feel like to sink his tongue into this warmth, he wondered. To move inside it like you were sucking out the sweetest ice cream soda, or a mellow yellow banana split.
"Ummm," the sergeant mumbled. "Banana split, split those legs open for me and I'll stick my hot banana up that split twat."
Bamm!! The whip lashed out again.
"You mother-fucker!" Pauline shrieked. "I told you the rules of this game. Tongue it or leave it!"
The blood was busting his temples inside out! The sergeant was mad with lust for her, Hot damn, he had to get inside this hot devil of a woman! Just from poking into that pussy, he knew it was a furnace. 120 in the shade, the blood surged through him.
In a fast fury, he lunged at her and plunged his tongue up her dewy duct. Pauline moaned with ecstasy and moved closer to him, so that the sergeant could throw his free arm around her succulent buttocks.
One good turn deserves another, Pauline thought. So she reached over with her hand and grabbed ahold of the sergeant's sex, jerking him along to the same rhythm his tongue found inside her.
The sergeant was rolling on the floor with her, his tongue digging deeper into her duct, lapping at the juice as with her hand she stroked and stimulated his throbbing muscle.
Pauline pressed her thighs tighter around the sergeant's bobbing head. "Ooohh," she moaned. "OOhhh, how is it down there?
Aren't you glad I converted you, how is it?"
"Blubbb..." the sergeant mumbled as he sputtered through her sumptuous twat, his free arm caressing her fleshy backside.
She moved his big cock up and down in her hands, all the time repeating her commands: "Eat me, I'm the queen of my country. Eat it out, eat the queen's cunt! Eat the queen's quim!"
The sergeant's face was turning as red as the pussy he was eating. He'd been down so long, he needed fresh air. But he didn't want to leave! All his life he had wanted to eat pussy, but it had taken a woman with a whip to get him moving! He pressed his mouth deeper into her digs.
"Oh," Pauline moaned, throwing back her head. "Ohhh."
Deeper and deeper the sergeant sucked into that trembling twat. He felt the pulse of her pussy.
In a spasm of sex, Pauline reared back and climaxed, pushing the sergeant's head forward into that quivering coming quim.
Just then the door flew open.
Chuck Parker, accompanied by the warden of the Eastport House of Detention came through the open door.
Chuck stared at the scene in front of him and gasped.
"Oh my God," the warden groaned, also turning white as a ghost.
Pauline smiled up at them. "Hi, Your Honor. You'll be happy to hear there's no police brutality in Eastport!"
CHAPTER FIVE
Riding back to the Mayor's Mansion, Chuck tried to speak seriously to Pauline. He asked her if she wanted to go to a restaurant.
"I've already eaten," she laughed.
"Pauline, this isn't going to be easy for me to say," he began nervously.
"Nothing good is easy to say-take your time," Pauline encouraged him. Her heart was beating wildly. Was he going to apologize? Was he going to say that he knew it was his cheating that made her do the things she'd done-but that he was finished cheating, now. That he wanted their love back the way it used to be, fresh and pure...
Oh say it! Pauline begged. Say you love me again.
"I think we'll have to get a divorce," Chuck said.
"A divorce!" Pauline shrieked. "A divorce!" she repeated incredulously in her shrill, metallic voice. Then she burst out laughing, pointing her finger at her husband and laughing.
Chuck looked at her from behind the wheel. "What is so damn funny, Pauline?"
"I thought you said 'divorce'. "
"You know that's what I said," her husband exclaimed. "What else could a politician do, married to a raging nympho like you. There's no other solution but divorce."
Pauline started to think-no other solution? Yes there is. You give up your sideline in twat, I'll restrict my business to your balls. But she had too much pride to come right out and say that to her husband.
"You try and divorce me, you shit, you! In a city like this you'll be finished politically. No one is going to vote for a man who says he can hold a city together, when he can't even hold his own family together!"
"But there's no other solution," Chuck tried to be firm, although in his heart of hearts he knew that Pauline was right. Divorce would spell political death for him. He knew she was right. And she knew she was right.
And she knew that he knew-and so they were trapped together-at least until he got reelected. Then...
"Divorce me!" Pauline repeated the word and broke out into a new round of cackling laughter. Then she stopped laughing and snarled viciously. "You just try. You just try!"
She slammed the door behind her and ran up to her bedroom. Then she locked the door and flung herself down on the bed. She started to sob.
Oh Chuck, she cried. Why do you do these things to me? Why do you make me do these things to you? One word from you, and I'd stop everything.
She was afraid they could hear her crying, so Pauline turned on the radio. They were playing an old song that she and Chuck used to dance to in college. It just made her cry more.
Baby, baby, where did our love go? Chuck parked the car in the garage and trudged up the steps to the Mayor's Mansion.
He felt like an old man, and he wasn't even thirty five yet. Why was she doing this to him? What did Pauline want from him?
He'd been lucky that the press had swallowed that cock and bull about Pauline working along with the Vice Squad. But it was still a touchy situation. Any more false moves by his wife and they'd have to look for a new place to live. And the next occupant of the Mayor's Mansion would be-Dean Crawford.
Dean Crawford, that was a laugh! Pauline's old boyfriend. The guy he'd stolen her from. Wow, how he wished he could reverse that little swap!
Waldo greeted him in the kitchen. "Boy, Mr. Parker you look real beat."
"Beat," Chuck laughed. "I will be beaten in the election if I don't do something about Mrs. Parker." He sat down on the kitchen table, shaking his head sadly. "What am I going to do?"
Upstairs in her room, Pauline turned on the television. They were discussing the coming election contest between her husband and Dean Crawford. The woman conducting the program looked familiar. Oh yes, Pauline thought, it was Muriel Oates, that woman reporter. She was making quite a name for herself lately.
Pauline turned off the television, bored to death. Maybe she ought to get a job, like that woman, Muriel Oates. Women with jobs never seemed to get bored.
But then Pauline decided she'd rather get a blow job.
She dialed Dean Crawford's office. The telephone was answered by a man with the deep, resonant voice of her 69-mate. "Guess who?" Pauline began. "It's me and I'm hot for you, Baby. I want to feel that tiger's tongue eat my twat-I want to take your cock's come in my mouth. Did you guess yet, Dean?"
The man on the other line answered her. "This is Mr. Crawford's Secretary. I'll get him on the line."
A male secretary, Pauline thought. We'll talk about your Women's Lib!
Dean picked up the phone a few minutes later. "Who is this? Pauline?"
"You bet your balls it's Pauline. Who else sucks you off the way I do?" she asked, making a whooshing noise over the phone.
"Promises, promises," Dean laughed.
"You get it on over to the Mayor's Mansion and we'll see who's promising and who's pussyfooting."
"Pussyfooting!" Dean laughed over the phone. 'That sounds like a lot of fun. Could your pussy take my foot?" .
"It depends," Pauline answered, parrying his thrust. "Do you have athlete's foot?"
"Oh, you bad girl!" Dean laughed.
"I may be a bad girl," Pauline admitted, "but I'm real good at it!"
"When should I come over?" Dean asked.
"Hold on a second." Pauline went to the foot of the steps and called down, "Chuck! Chuck!" There was no answer. She walked back to the telephone. "You can come right now. The Mayor must have gone back to his office. And Dean," she added seriously, "once you get here we'll discuss step two. Step one went so well. You know I'll do anything to be sure that my husband is washed up in politics."
"Listen, when I get over to your place we're going to discuss step 69!"
"Promises, promises," Pauline laughed, hanging up the telephone.
Dean Crawford hung up the telephone after her. What a girl, he thought! What a woman! What a twat!
When he had been in college he'd been head over heels in love with Pauline Shmutz. Then, enter Chuck Parker, and he was robbed of his young love. But now the times had changed again. The shoe was on the other foot, the mouth was on the other cock. Pauline loved him now. Dean Crawford, the poor immigrant's son. And soon he'd be the mayor of Eastport. He'd have stolen everything Chuck Parker had!
Life was a gas, Dean thought, as he walked out of his private office.
His male secretary looked up. "Going out, Mr. Crawford?"
"Yes, Frank. I have an urgent appointment."
"I see." Frank went back to his work. But just as Dean Crawford was at the door, he added, somewhat mysteriously, "hope everything comes out all right!"
Dean turned around suspiciously. "What was that?"
"I just said, good luck, Sir."
"Thank you," Dean replied.
But as he was walking towards his car, the words stuck in his throat. What did Frank mean by his words? Why did he wish him good luck, or that, "everything should come out all right?" What he meant?
Bah, Dean thought. It's nothing. Everybody in politics was too suspicious. You can't let your nerves fuck over your brain. You've got to keep a clear head, Dean decided.
Dean headed out on Eastport Avenue towards the Mayor's Mansion. Along the way he had to pass through the squalid, sordid part of town. The South Side.
Dean shook his head in wonder. How could people live like this? Why, look at those girls over there, he thought. They looked around sixteen years old. What were they doing hanging around on the street? Why weren't they in school? Didn't Eastport have a truant officer, Dean wondered.
The light turned red and Dean pulled to a stop. He glanced at some papers he had lying near his seat. The first draft of a speech to a Women's Group. He took out his red pen to make some last minute corrections.
"You wanna go out?"
Dean looked up. "Huh? What was that?"
One of the young girls was standing with her face pressed up against the window of the car.
She had dark brown hair that she wore parted in the middle. Her skin was white and pale, like she needed more sun. Dean wondered naively if that's why she had been standing on the street corner, to soak up the sunshine. The cleavage in her skimpy halter top showed the outline of full, white marble breasts with deep purple veins running through them.
The light had turned green, and the cars in back of Dean's were starting to honk anxiously.
"Look," the girl suggested, "you better pull over to the side."
Oh crap, Dean thought to himself. She must be a meter maid, a policewoman. I must have jumped the light before, who could tell anything the way they disguise them today!
Dean pulled over to the side street and waited for the girl to catch up with him.
"Okay, honey," she said breathlessly, "you wanna go out?"
"Out where? Out of the car?" Dean was completely innocent. "Are you a meter maid?" he asked. "Did I jump the light?"
The girl yawned. "Yeah. You got it. I'm a meter maid. I want to make your meter. Or, maybe you could just think of me as a peter maid!"
Hmm, Dean thought, the Mayor has a whole new type of woman working for him. "See here," Dean began, "I stopped at that light, Miss-Miss--? "
"Trixie's the name, tricks are my game. Look, if you don't want to have a time, don't waste my time."
"I'm perfectly willing to go with you and clear this up. You know, I have a reputation to maintain. I'm Dean Crawford, and I'm running for mayor."
"Glad to meet you," Trixie said sarcastically, "I'm Cleopatra, and I'm running for help." Honestly, Trixie thought to herself, this guy is too much! Did he really think she was a traffic policewoman? He must have just blown in from the boondocks. Well, she'd take him for a hot ride!
"Get in the car, Miss Trixie. Where is the precinct \house?" Dean opened the door for her. "The what house?"
"Precinct house," Dean repeated. "You know, where you work out of?"
"Oh, sure, Sport. I work out of the Hotel Stayne, on twelfth and Eastport Avenue. I'll show you how to go." She sat down next to Dean.
"Lead the way, Madame," Dean said, very coldly.
"Hey," Trixie sounded annoyed, "don't caD me 'madame'. The name is Trixie!"
They drove silently for a few blocks. Then Trixie pointed. "That's the place."
Dean parked the car. He called Pauline and told her he'd be a few minutes late, and then joined Trixie in the lobby of the run down hotel.
The desk clerk looked up at them. "Take room two three," he said to Trixie. 'Thanks, Chum."
Trixie led the way up the staircase.
"Was that the Sergeant?" Dean asked innocently.
"Nah," Trixie replied, in her dull, wooden voice. "That was the general-General Motors!" she laughed.
The room she led Dean into didn't look like any jail he'd ever seen.
With one hand Trixie turned on the glaring overhead bulb and with the other she slipped off her one piece mini-suit.
Now Dean understood what was going on! How could he have been so naive, he chided himself.
"See here!" he protested loudly. "What the hell is this! You're no cop. You're a..."
Trixie silenced him with a long passionate french-kiss. She unbuttoned his jacket and stroked his chest.
In spite of himself, Dean felt the hot blood surge up from his loins. He'd never made it with a hooker before. What was it like?
Trixie kissed him and finished unbuttoning his shirt. She loosened his belt and inserted her hand into his trousers, seeking his rapidly expanding penis.
Part of Dean wanted to leave. Part of him said that this kind of sex wasn't his bag. It sickened him. It was without love, just cash and carry climax.
But the other part of him-the part below his belt-was in the hands of a true professional. Powerless. But powerful.
"Trixie-" Dean groaned.
"A big hot one," Trixie said, admiringly. "Well I got a hot one, too. A hot twat! It ain't big, though. It's a tight one. A hot, tight twat. Repeat those words for me-"
"You're beautiful," Dean said, holding her black hair in his hands. When he let go of her hair, it cascaded down and covered his swollen cock. Her black hair covered his black hair. They were made for each other. Her pussy was the same dark black-black and warm like the summer night.
"Talk to me, honey. Tell me how you like it-you got a big hot cock and I got a tight hot twat-what are we gonna do with 'em? Talk to me, honey," Trixie insisted.
Dean gulped. "I want to stick my big hot cock up your tight hot twat-"
"Oooh, that sounds like a good idea," Trixie laughed, running her hands over Dean's balls. "Say, ain't you said you're the Mayor or someone important?"
"Who cares about that," Dean groaned, reaching for her. He almost tripped over his trousers, rolled down over his knees. "Let me take these off," he said.
"Before you take them off-" Trixie took his throbbing tool in her hands and guided it over to the black hot night of her pussy. Not into the hole-just around the neighborhood. She held it tight in her hands, guiding it into her warm hole. Dean could feel how nice and snug it would be in her snatch.
"Oh, yeah-put it in-stick it in-"
Then Trixie just laughed and held it away from her pussy. Dean felt like reaching out and overpowering her-forcing it into that teaser's twat.
Then she guided Dean's dick up along her body-up above her firm stomach, towards the rising mountains of her jutting tits. She held his cock in one hand and, with the other, moved her beautiful boobs together. Dean's dick was caught between Trixie's tits' cleavage, warm and secure.
"Fuck my tits, Baby-fuck my tits-"
But then she withdrew his cock, laughing the way she had before.
Dean was getting pissed. "What the hell are you doing, you cock teaser?"
Trixie laughed. "There's a little problem, Sport. Before you take off those trousers-your wallet, you see, I'm putting my mother through medical school. I need some do-re-mi or you don't do me!"
"Anything! Anything!" Dean gulped out, reaching in for his wallet. He handed her some bills, holding the last one in his hand. "You know what I'd like to do with this money?" he asked her.
Dean took the bill and plunged it into her tangy twat, rubbing it around, soaking up the atmosphere. Then he kissed the bill and handed it to the greedy hooker.
Trixie counted the money. "A hundred big
Marsha the Mouth shrugged her shoulders. Then, with one lunging gulp she took the whole cone in her mouth. She crunched down once and then swallowed it.
"Marsha the Mouth," Trixie shook her head in wonder. Then she went over to Marsha to help her off with her huge terry cloth bathrobe. As she went to hang it up, candy bars fell out of the pockets.
"Don't lose any of those!" Marsha warned. "Put them back in the pockets, you whore!"
Marsha went to sit at the edge of the bed. She slowly removed her bra and girdle, all the time munching on a candy bar! Trixie lay down on the other side of the bed, taking Dean's cock in her hands. She applied pressure to the head, as if to increase the size. Jesus, Dean thought-it can't get any bigger. He felt like he could fuck two cunts at the same time, it was so large. And there were two-Trixie and Marsha. But what was their plan?
As Trixie held Dean's surging sex in her hand, Marsha the Mouth bent down and started to blow him. Trixie jerked it up and down, into that cavernous hot mouth, squeezing his rod as Marsha sucked the head.
"Take the chocolate out of your mouth, Marsha!" Trixie sounded pissed off. "For all that money, at least give him a blow job, not a chocolate sundae on his dork!"
"You shut up, sister, or I'll shove that chocolate up your twat. Don't you tell me how to run my business." Marsha screamed indignantly.
"Why you fat whore, you ought to kiss my ass out of gratitude. If I hadn't banged on the wall, you'd still be inside masturbating!"
Marsha stopped sucking Dean's cock. She stood up, livid with anger. "I never masturbate. Who says I do is a fucking liar!"
"Come off it, Marsha," Trixie laughed. "Why do you wear that band on your finger? It's because you're going steady with yourself! Ha ha ha!"
"You cunt," Marsha charged over to Trixie and slapped her across the face.
"Why you fat ass!" Trixie shrieked, pulling Marsha's hair. "I'll scratch your eyes out."
"I am calmed down. You're the one who's getting excited," Marsha said.
"Can't you girls go at this some other time?" Dean moaned. Then he pointed to his cock. "And can't you go at this right now!"
Trixie smiled. "That's right. My little boy is hungry for me. You can go now, Marsha."
"I ain't going nowhere till I get my cut!"
Trixie turned red with fury. "What cut, you cunt! What the hell did you do that you want money?"
"I ate him for a time." Marsha said.
"For a time," Trixie repeated the words in wonder. "You fat whore, you just licked that dick for a second. But forget about it," Trixie took out a dollar, "take this for your troubles."
"I don't go down for a dollar, whore!" Marsha the mouth screamed. "You give me half!"
"I'll piss up your cunt before you get another cent from me, you fart," Trixie reached for her shoe. "You get out of this room or I'll shove this shoe up your stretched out snatch!"
"Oooh, you sewer! My snatch is like a virgin's! That remark will cost you!" Marsha reached over and in her fury she bit deep into Trixie's right tit.
Trixie screamed with pain. She took the shoe in her hand and struck Marsha soundly across the face.
"Cunt!" Marsha screamed, digging her fingernails into Trixie's face.
Dean lay there on the bed, watching with distress the way the evening had progressed. Mournfully, and horny as hell, he got off the bed to retrieve his clothing and his money.
"Where do you think you're going?" Trixie bellowed.
"I thought I was in a cathouse," Dean explained, "not a cat fight! I'm leaving."
The two whores stopped fighting. Trixie smoothed her hair back into place.
"Suit yourself," she said to Dean, "but you ain't taking that money back!"
"Yes I am," Dean said. "Satisfaction guaranteed or your money returned. That's a law of the Better Business Bureau of Eastport."
"Hah!" Trixie screeched. "Better Business! You better believe it! What do you think we are, licensed by the government? Grow up, Sonny Boy," she laughed, snatching the money back out of Dean's hand.
"You give me the money back, you whore!" Dean shouted.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Trixie laughed. Then she turned to Marsha. "Sorry about the misunderstanding, Mouth."
Marsha patted the younger girl on the shoulder. "That's okay, Sister. We all make mistakes."
'Take some more money, Marsha," Trixie offered her some bills.
"Oh, I shouldn't," Marsha laughed, greedily accepting the thirty dollars.
Dean was steaming with anger. So now the two whores had made up and they were ganging up on him! Politics makes strange bedfellows, Dean thought to himself. But whatever the case, he wanted that money back, and he wanted it now.
"You give me that, you fat whore!" He grabbed the thirty dollars out of Marsha's immense hands. "No one rips off Dean Crawford," he said, boastfully.
Marsha the Mouth smiled. "Say, maybe there's been a misunderstanding. He feels we're ripping him off."
"He does?" Trixie echoed.
"Yeah. And Marsha the Mouth may be a working girl, but she's no liar. So you come here, honey," she motioned to Dean with a crooked finger, "and we'll try and work this thing out.
Dean approached her where she sat on the bed. Marsha winked at him, and then took his limp cock in her hand. She massaged for a few moments to restore the lost hardness. Dean closed his eyes in pleasant anticipation of being blown again by the expert Marsha.
Crunchchch!! !
"Oww!" Dean reared up in pain.
Trixie doubled over with laughter. "Right on, Marsha!" she kissed her friend. "That was the quickest blow job I ever saw in my whole life.
"Blow job!" Dean screeched in pain. "She bit me! That fat whore bit my cock! I'm bleeding, I swear."
"Bleeding?" Marsha said. "Here, let's take a look at that." She took Dean's swollen sex in her hand and inspected it. There were teeth marks, and a trace of blood. "Hey, Trixie," she said, turning to her friend, "what do you know? This guy comes in red!"
"Oooh," Trixie laughed, "he comes in red. I'd love a blue one. Can you come in blue?"
"Yeah," Marsha laughed, "he can come in blue. If you blow hard enough, get it?" She slapped Trixie on the back. The two hookers doubled over with laughter.
Dean stiffened up. Now he'd taken all the shit he was going to from these brazen broads! No two bit whore was going to make a fool out of him and laugh at him in front of his face. Goddam it! He'd had enough!
"Get over here, you!" With a powerful motion of his arm, Dean swept Trixie over to him.
"Hey, cut it out!" the young prostitute cried.
"Eat that dick, you cock teaser!" Dean ordered, ramming his stiffened ramrod into her mouth before she could utter another word of protest. "Suck it-suck my swollen cock!"
Trixie was resisting him. "Suck, I tell you. Suck that prick! Don't just pick at it, you pig!
Suck it! Suck my hard prick in your mouth! Tongue it-take my load-"
Dean brought his legs together over Trixie's head. They were like a vise, blocking off any thought for escape. The young hooker could do nothing else but comply with his commands.
"You better leave her alone!" Marsha warned him from behind. "You let Trixie go. She done you already."
"Yeah," Dean mocked, "she done me all right. She done me wrong. But where are you going, Marsha the Mouth?"
"Me? I'm just going next door," Marsha stammered, eager to escape.
"Suck it!" Dean reminded Trixie.
Her big eyes reflected terror of the now enraged Dean Crawford. She shook her head yes, all her resistance dissolving in fear. She redoubled her effort, redoubling Dean's pleasure.
"Finally," Dean smiled, laying back on the bed. "Oh, but you Marsha, come here."
"Why?" Marsha asked suspiciously.
"I want to give you some more money for being such a good sport."
Marsha smiled. "I am a good sport, ain't I." She approached the bed where Dean was getting sucked off by the aroused Trixie.
As soon as Marsha was within arm's reach, Dean lunged up and pulled her down on top of him. "Whore! Cunt lips! You thought you could laugh at me, didn't you! Laugh now, you happy hooker!"
Dean dug his tongue into Marsha's twat, all the time holding the big woman in his powerful grasp.
Then he pulled it out again just as Marsha had started to moan with a mixture of pleasure and terror.
"Hey you!" He shouted to Trixie. "Are you sleeping on the job? The blow job?"
Trixie's eyes grew large with fright. She made a gesture with her arm, a frantic gesture indicating that she needed to come up for some air. Dean released enough pressure from his legs to let her ease her mouth off his pulsing prick.
"Jesus," Trixie sputtered, gasping for breath, "this mother-fucker really wants his money's worth!"
"It's all your fault," Marsha screamed, straining in Dean's powerful grip. "You made him so excited with your stupid jokes. You're the one who got us in this trouble, you stupid whore. If this guy wasn't holding me now, I'd crack your face in!"
"You lay one hand on me and I'll slit your tit off!" Trixie screamed. Then she turned to Dean. "Tell that fat whore not to speak to me like that!"
"I don't want either of you whores to speak!" Dean said with finality. "I'm tired of listening to the both of you!" Then Dean thought of something that made him laugh. "Why don't you two gals kiss and make up?"
Marsha didn't understand. "What's he talking about?" she said to Trixie.
"Beats me," Trixie echoed.
"I want to see you two hookers make up," Dean explained. "I want to see you patch up your quarrel. And the best place to patch is-the snatch!"
With a flex of his powerful arms, he forced Marsha to the floor. He still held Trixie in the vise-like grip of his muscular legs. "Now eat and make up!" Dean commanded.
"What the hell do you want me to do?" Mammoth Marsha demanded.
"Eat your partner's pussy!" Dean laughed. "You heard me," he said, gripping her neck with his strong, veiny hands, "kiss and make up.
Marsha bellowed in fear as Dean pushed her head towards Trixie's trembling twat.
Marsha scooped into Trixie, as Dean's arm held fast to her neck. They were like puppets, Dean thought. And he was pulling the strings. That would teach them to laugh at Dean Crawford!
Trixie moaned with pleasure, as Marsha's mouth lapped up her quivering cunt. This time she went down on Dean without his forcing her to.
"That's it girl," Dean encouraged her, "eat me like she's eating you. One good blow deserves another."
Trixie took his whole cock into her deep throat. Now Dean saw what these hookers offered that the average girl didn't-they were like athletes in training. They had flexibility. They could turn any trick in the book.
There was only one other girl he'd known who could compete with these professionals-Pauline Parker. And tonight he'd have her, too. Jesus, Dean thought in pleasure, you can never get enough!
Trixie couldn't seem to get enough, either. She had sucked the whole length of his sleek cock into her gaping mouth. Now, the way she was sucking, you'd think she didn't know that that was all there was.
More, she seemed to be saying-give me more!
Dean slipped his fingers into her mouth along with his cock. Come right in. Trixie seemed to say. The water's fine! He felt along her palate-it was hard and moist, like her twat must be. Must be? Why not find out? After all, he'd paid for these broads. And they were going to pay for laughing at him!
Dean took his hand out of Trixie's mouth. He ran it down her body, towards her pussy. Marsha was so intently absorbed in eating Trixie's pussy, that she didn't notice Dean slip his finger into the party.
But Trixie did!
Her whole body jerked in a tingle of pleasure as she felt this new presence inside her pussy. Dean responded to her by poking around, bringing his finger deeper inside. He felt Marsha's tongue digging into the same duct. He could feel Marsha's lips-so close to Trixie's twat lips. And his finger was poking around, directing the traffic.
Oh God, Dean thought, who ever said two is company, three's a crowd. Not this crowd!
Then he became aware of Trixie's increased concentration on his cock. She was sucking him off like a woman possessed. And he was just the man to possess her. He decided to rearrange the action.
Dean eased his cock out of Trixie's mouth, and he jerked his finger out of her twat. With his hand he pulled Marsha's suction sucker out of Trixie's hole.
"Hey!" Trixie hollered in rage. "Give me that back!"
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, you happy hooker," Dean comforted her. "I'm going to give it all back to you. Only, the music's changed, and we're changing partners. You'll see!"
"What's he mean?" Marsha asked, dumfounded.
"Beats me," Trixie echoed. "I wish we cold go back to what we were just doing. It felt so good."
'Try this on for size!" Dean laughed, pressing himself upon her and angling his throbbing tool into her tremulous twat. Trixie spread her legs, and clutched him close into her.
"Oh, yeah-" she moaned, with pleasure. "Give it to me! Fuck my cunt with that big steaming cock-fuck my cunt-" She wrapped her legs around his back.
"Am I invited in?" Marsha asked, in a bitching tone of voice. "I hate to crash a party! Just say the word and I'll go."
"Don't go," Dean commanded. "Come!"
"I don't dig it," Marsha said, confused.
"Suck me off as I fuck her-" Dean explained. "You've got a big mouth-figure out how to use it!"
Marsha scratched her head. How could she suck his cock if it was inside Trixie's pussy? She maneuvered her mouth down to Dean's scrotum. Maybe he'd want a sac suck, she thought, lowering her mouth over the hobbling balls.
"That's it, Marsha. Shove those balls into your mouth. Eat those balls-suck that sac!"
"OOooh," Trixie moaned in pleasure, "Marsha the Mouth is blowing his balls! I want to see! I want to see!"
Marsha climbed on Dean's back, to angle herself in a better position. As she sucked his balls from behind, the incredibly versatile six foot whore managed to get in a few licks on Trixie's pussy hairs.
The three of them jerked together in the rhythm of sex. Two may be company, Dean thought, but three is a gas!
Marsha had finished her last chocolate bar and, with her chubby finger, dripping with the gooey sweetness, she was finger-fucking her own love hole.
Dean thought he'd burst in two-in Trixie and in Marsha! He was fucking one, lunging up and down into the sweet warmth of that snug snatch. And at the same time, Marsha's whooshing mouth was sucking his ball sac, that warm tongue running onto Trixie's twat hair so that Dean could feel tongue and twat at the same time.
Tongue and twat, he thought-fuck and suck-lips and labia-His fevered brain kept repeating the forbidden words.
"Fuck me, fast boy-fuck me faster-"
Trixie moaned. She reached out to pull Dean closer to her, and, at the same time, pull Marsha closer on top of Dean. They melted into each other, one surging mountain of sex.
Dean felt like he was coming. He felt like he would come out of every part of his body-shoot from his glans penis into Trixie's trembling tract-shoot from his balls into Marsha's mouth!
"Fuck-" Trixie commanded Dean. "Suck!" she ordered Marsha. "Suck-fuck-"
Dean could feel Marsha's own plump hand inside her hole. Her full womanly fleshed body felt so good on top of him, almost as good as Trixie's hot twat felt around his raging ramrod!
"Suck-fuck!" Trixie repeated the sacred words, like the referee at a prize fight! "Suck-fuck-" she ordered them, as the marathon raced faster and faster toward the inevitable climax!
"Suck-fuck!" Her arms beat out at Dean and at Marsha on top of him. "Faster-suck! fuck! Suh-fuh, suh, fuh, suhfuh!"
Trixie shrieked the words together as Dean thrust his load of lust into her quivering climax. At the same time he felt a spasm on top of him, as mammoth Marsha's legs heaved with the earthquake of her ecstasy, taking one last, lingering suck on his sac just as he shot into Trixie's moist twat.
The three of them lay there together for some time, soaked and spent from their spasm. Then Dean felt Marsha coming to life again on top of him.
"Hey," she began, in a husky, sexy, voice. "Is anyone hungry?"
"Jesus, Marsha, you're really a pig," Trixie said. "After all, didn't you just get finished eating!"
The three dissolved in laughter.
CHAPTER SIX
Pauline glanced nervously at her watch. Where the hell was Dean? What was keeping him? She dialed his office again.
Dean's male secretary answered. "No, Mr. Crawford hasn't called in, Madame. I'm sure I don't know what's detaining him."
"Thank you," Pauline said, about to hang up the phone.
The male secretary laughed over the receiver.
"Maybe I can help you out, honey." He made a suggestive noise with his mouth.
"What are you talking about, young man?" Pauline said, angrily.
"What am I talking about?" the secretary laughed. "I'm talking about this, mama. Whoosh ... whooseh ... I'm talking about eating pussy. I'd like to suck you right through the telephone. I bet you have a real hot, hairy one. A hot, hairy twat filled with cunt cocktail!"
"You're fresh!" Pauline said. "You have a big mouth!"
"Ha!" he laughed at Pauline's humorous choice of words. "Who did you say has a big mouth?"
"You do, young man," Pauline snorted. "You have a filthy, big mouth."
"You bet your ass I do. And I'd love to stick that filthy big mouth of mine on top of your pussy and suck your sauce."
"You better watch what you say!" Pauline exclaimed. "I have powerful friends. I could have you arrested!"
"I have friends, too, honey. Maybe you could get your friend, and I could get mine, and we could plan a little gang-bang. How would you like that, pussy? Ever had your twat eaten by a whole football team at one time? Does that turn you on, Big Mouth
Baby?"
"You make me sick!"
"And you make me come," the young man laughed. "From what I've heard about you, you have the busiest box in town!"
"I don't know who told you that!" Pauline said.
"It's right there in your voice, honey," laughed Frank, the male secretary.
"What's in my voice?" Pauline asked curiously.
"Baby, you've sucked off so many men in your life, I can hear the come floating around in your big mouth," he laughed.
"Well, little boy," Pauline said sarcastically, "you better ask them what it was like. 'Cause you'll sure as hell never get inside!"
"Don't bet on it!" Frank said, trying to scare her.
Pauline hung up the phone. What a fresh kid! She'd tell Dean to fire him. No one could talk to her like that. She might like sex, that was true. She was a healthy red-blooded, red-cunted American girl. But she was no cheap hooker, to be talked to that way!
Pauline lit a cigarette and poured herself some gin. Where the hell was Dean? She was so bored. So restless.
So hot. That young kid might have been fresh, but he had turned her on. Pauline wanted it again. She wanted to get in some hot licks. "The busiest box in town," he'd called her. Maybe it was true.
It was all her husband's fault. His cheating was driving her to this wanton life. If only he'd come back.
Oh, she thought, how I hate him! I'll fuck his life. I will! She flung her empty glass at the mirror, and watched the splintering crack. That's the way his life will crack up in front of me. I hate him so!
Oooh, but I still would like to suck him one last time, Pauline thought. I hate him, but I love that hard cock. Love and hate. They're so confusing. They get mixed up all over. What the hell, she thought. All that counts in life is to have a good time!
"The busiest box in town" wanted to have a good time for the rest of her life!
But what was a girl supposed to do in an empty house?
Pauline decided to make a phone call to pass the time away. She dialed the office of the Eastport Gazette.
"Gazette," the girl at the switchboard answered. "Can I help you?"
"I have a story for your woman reporter, Muriel Oates."
"I'll buzz Miss Oates," the receptionist replied. "Hold on."
"I'm holding," Pauline said, taking another swig from the glass of gin.
A few moments passed, and then a deep woman's voice got on the phone. "Hello, this is Muriel Oates."
"Hi, toots, I got a hot flash for you," Pauline said.
"Oh," Muriel laughed, "the anonymous phone caller. "What's on your mind today?"
"The Mayor is soon going to make a major move against prostitution. He's going to clean out the South Side and arrest all the whores."
"How do you know?" Muriel Oates asked. "Are you the Mayor's wife?" she asked, jokingly.
"No," Pauline said. "I'm the Mayor's cunt! Don't ask me any questions. You just take my story and do something with it. I'm hanging up now."
"Always nice hearing from you," Muriel Oates said, hanging up the phone.
Pauline poured herself another glass of gin. Then she heard a car pull up outside.
She ran to the window. Thank goodness, she thought. It's Dean Crawford.
"Pussy," she said aloud, "we are gonna get eaten up now!"
Dean knocked at her door. "Come in," Pauline called. "As a matter-of-fact, come in my mouth," she laughed shrilly.
Waldo, the houseboy, opened the door. "Would you like me to, Mrs. Parker?"
"You?" Pauline shrieked. "Get your ass out of here! I thought that Dean Crawford..."
Waldo smiled. "He'll be right up." Then he thought to himself, right up your cunt! Waldo closed the door after him.
A few more minutes passed. Then there was another knock on the door.
"Whoever knocks on my door has to knock me up," Pauline laughed. "Come in, come in whoever you are!"
Dean opened the door and smiled. "Hiya, honey."
Pauline threw her arms around him and kissed him with lusty passion.
"Oooh, where you been so long?" Pauline asked him. "You're two hours late. I've been going out of my box waiting for you. Where have you been?"
"I got detained, over near Eastport Avenue and Twelfth Street."
"Oh," Pauline said curiously. "What's over there?"
"The Hotel Stayne," Dean answered.
"Oh, yeah? What's there? A convention?"
"Actually, Pauline," Dean said slowly, weighing the effect of his words, "it's a whorehouse."
"A what?" Pauline said in shock. thought, what would really turn this city off to Chuck Parker?"
"I don't know," Pauline said. "Should I get arrested for something else?"
Dean Crawford smiled. "You know what a hot issue the South Side renewal project is, how everyone is up in arms with the city government to turn the hookers out of those old fleabag hotels down there?"
"Yes," Pauline was beginning to understand what Dean wanted her to do.
"Well, listen, honey. We tapped the Mayor's private office phone. We found out he's gonna authorize the Vice Squad to raid that hotel down there, the one I'm telling you about."
"And, you want me to be one of the whores caught in the raid?" Pauline asked.
Dean looked at her. "Honey, am I asking too much of you?"
Pauline threw her arms around him. "I love it! I'll do it."
Dean hugged her closer to him. "Baby, you're the greatest. You're just the best there is."
Pauline pulled away from him. "Better than the girls at the whorehouse!"
"What do you mean?"
"How do I stack up compared to them?" she asked, running her fingers along the border of his cock.
"Honey, you stack up compared to anyone." Dean squeezed her tits. "Because you're stacked."
"I'm not joking, Dean," Pauline said seriously. "What were the girls like at the Hotel Stayne? What were they into?"
"Mainly, they were into me," Dean laughed. "My cock, my ass, you know."
"What was her name?" Pauline asked. "It turned me on to hear about it."
"One of them was-"
"One of them!" Pauline interrupted. "You mean you fucked two whores over there," she laughed, trying to be a good sport. He wasn't her husband, after all. "Will there be any left for little Pauline?" she asked, feeling his cock through his trousers.
"There's always room for one more," Dean laughed, pressing his hand on top of hers. "Oooh, that feels good, you bad girl, you!"
"Am I as bad as the hookers on Eastport Avenue?" Pauline teased.
"You're even worse," Dean confided. "After all, for them it's a job, for you it's a-"
"Blow-job," Pauline laughed, unzipping Dean's fly. "Come on, baby, let it all hang out while you tell me about what went on at the hotel whorehouse." Pauline held Dean's stiffening cock in her hand. She put her drink down and kissed the head of the pulsing prick.
"Pauline-" Dean groaned.
"Come on, tell me what went on there, while I jerk you off," Pauline invited him. "What's the matter? Can't do two things at once?" she teased, licking his lump.
"I sure can," Dean boasted. "I did two things at the whorehouse I was telling you about. The young one's name was Trixie."
Pauline's hold on his cock tightened. "What did Trixie look like? How old was she?"
"You know, honey, a few years younger than you, hey! Don't squeeze it so hard. Relax a little."
"So Trixie's just a kid, huh? What kind of body? Nice, young boobs that hung down like buds on a branch?" Pauline released Dean's throbbing muscle and opened her blouse. "Did Trixie have big, hot, humpy hummocks like these?" she asked, pushing her beautiful tits in Dean's face.
"Hell, Pauline, no one has a pair like you." He lunged over, and took the right one in his mouth.
"Did you suck Trixie's titties, too?" Pauline asked. "Did you milk her little mammaries?"
Dean made some kind of motion with his hand as he sucked hard on Pauline's nipples. Pauline laughed and pulled away.
"You didn't finish telling me your story, Dean," she said to him, wagging her finger.
"Now come on, don't hold back."
Dean groaned. "Let me suck those big tits, let me nibble those knobs."
Pauline swung away from him. She clapped her hands, teasingly, like a little girl. "Pauline wants to hear a story! She wants to hear all about Little Dean Riding Cock and the three whores."
"Who said three?" Dean asked. "There were only two. Trixie and Marsha."
Pauline pointed to herself. "And Baby makes three."
"That's right," Dean laughed. "I didn't count you. Why don't you come over here, Pauline." He patted the bed where he was sitting. "I'll tell you a good bedtime story."
Pauline lay down on the bed next to him. She took his cock in his hands. "Now what did the other hooker look like. What was her name? Martha?"
"Not Martha," Dean corrected her. "Marsha. They call her Marsha the Mouth."
"Marsha the Mouth," Pauline laughed. "Why do they call her that?"
"Because she loves to use her mouth. You know, that big hole that's in the face." Dean ran his fingers along Pauline's lips. "This is what's called the mouth," he said, "and some women like to take cocks up there! Did you ever hear of anything like that!" he said in a teasing voice.
"You mean like this?" Pauline said, playing along with the gag. "Is this what she did to you, Marsha the Mouth?" Pauline went down on Dean's hot meat, going all the way down in one lunging gulp.
"Oh, yeah!" Dean hooted. "You could teach her a few tricks, you pussycat! Suck that dick, lick that stick!" he howled. "You're number three for me, today!"
But Pauline popped his prick out of her mouth. "Number three, am I?"
"No, baby, you're number one! Now do that again, go down on my big dick like you were doing. Suck me off, Pauline. Pauline the Pussy. You're as good as Marsha the Mouth!"
Pauline got up from the bed and stretched. "Want another drink, Dean? You're not hot for your drink the way you were the other day. Lost your taste for scotch?" she teased.
Dean stood up and grabbed her. "That's right. Lately I prefer another drink." With a fierce lunge, he ripped open her skirt. "Pussy juice is my new drink!" he howled, digging into her dugout.
Pauline swung her hips and bumped him off her twat. "The bar's closed," she said sarcastically. "We're not serving anymore."
"What's gotten into you, Pauline?" Dean asked, confused.
"Let's see, I think your tongue just got into me, didn't it?" she laughed, pouring herself another gin.
"Aren't you into having sex?" Dean asked. "Are you made at me, honey?"
"I ain't mad at you, honey," Pauline said. "But look at it this way. I waited for you two hours while you were getting it on. Now it's only fair you wait for me to catch up to you. After all," Pauline smiled, "I'm a girl who-likes to go slow."
Dean burst out laughing. "That's a hoot!"
"But Dean, it's true. Deep down inside me I'm an old-fashioned girl."
"How deep down?" Dean asked, a little heady from the drinks. "This deep?" He plunged his finger into her cunt. "Even deeper than this?"
"Ooooh, that does feel good," Pauline said, lying back on the bed. "You sure know how to finger a girl."
"Don't I, though, you old-fashioned girl, you!" Dean laughed, wriggling his finger around inside her, feeling her tingling clit.
"Is this what you did with those girls at the Hotel Stayne?" Pauline asked. "Did you finger-fuck them, too? Ummm, did they love it the way I love it?" Pauline cooed, resting her own hand on Dean's wrist, guiding it further in to her burning bush.
"Yeah, they liked it fine," Dean said. "And that's the end of Eyewitness News," he laughed, pouncing hungrily upon her lips.
Pauline let his tongue bore into her mouth in a sizzling kiss. Then she squirmed out of his embrace, forcing him to remove his lips from hers, and his probe from out of her pussy.
"It's so hot in here, isn't it, Dean," she said, getting up and walking towards the window.
"Not as hot as it is in here!" Dean said, pointing to his raging ramrod. "Pauline, go down on me. I'm burning with come, I swear it. Eat me like you did the other day," he begged.
"Aren't you thirsty?" Pauline asked him, ignoring his Other requests.
"Dammit, I'm not fucking thirsty. You know what I want. I'm hungry for you, damn you!"
"Hungry?" Pauline asked innocently. "I could see what we have in the ice box."
Dean ran over to her. "This is the only box I care about!" he exclaimed, once again feeling with his fingers the beauty of Pauline's burning bush. "Oh, baby, I'd love to stuff my stick up there."
"My, Dean, you are quite a man. Two whores, and there's still more of you to go around," Pauline laughed.
Dean wondered. Was she just teasing or was she really mad about his having spent an afternoon with two hookers. She was a woman, after all. You could never tell when their feelings would get hurt.
But what the hell, they weren't married. They weren't even in love. They were just two conspirators with a common interest. He wanted to be Mayor, and she wanted to see her husband humiliated. That's all it was between them.
like the old saying goes, politics makes strange bedfellows.
So why the hell was she acting so damn funny now? Was she for real? Or was she teasing. He knew how to find out. Two could play the game of tease!
"You know, Pauline," Dean began. "I think I will have that drink now."
Pauline got up from the bed and walked toward the door. She was a little disappointed actually. She was starting to get hot for him.
"Scotch and soda?" she called from the bar.
"That'll be fine," he said.
Pauline mixed the drink, all the time watching Dean who had his back to her. What had he done with those whores? He was quite a man! Three a day! The only man she knew who used to get it up that often was her ever-loving hubby.
"Here's the drink, honey," she said, handing it to Dean. "Mind if I sit next to you," she said, sliding down on the bed. "My, my," she laughed. "Who's been sleeping in my bed?"
Pauline reached out and stroked Dean's curly brown hair, weaving her fingers through the dense curls.
"Don't do that, honey."
"What?" Pauline asked.
"I said don't play around with my hair like that," Dean said, taking her hand from off his head. "I'm drinking now."
Pauline was perplexed. "What does one thing have to do with the other?"
"Well, honey, you may get some hairs in my drink. That's not very sanitary."
Not sanitary, Pauline thought to herself. That's a funny thing come from a man who spent an afternoon in a whorehouse.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Pauline said. Then she reached out and put her arm around his waist. "Umm," she cooed, "this feels so nice and cozy."
"Sure does," Dean agreed.
Pauline held him close to her, and slid her arm down his trouser leg, seeking his cock.
Hell, Dean thought, here's where I discover if I have enough will-power to play this game.
Pauline opened his fly. "Poor little dick, it must be so lonely all locked up inside there," she laughed. "Why don't we set him free?"
Dean tried to concentrate on not getting hard. I will not get hard, he repeated to himself. I will not get hard. I will not get hard.
"That's funny," Pauline said, "you don't have a hard-on. You had one all the time back there. What happened?"
Dean smiled innocently, his face sweating. "Gee, honey, I don't know." He extended his empty tumbler. "I'm ready for seconds," he announced.
Pauline took his glass, all the time staring at his limp tool. "Maybe you drink too much," she said, in a bitchy voice, getting up and walking across the room towards the bar.
Whew, Dean thought, I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm dying to let that thing get into her hot cunt. But maybe...
"Here you go." Pauline handed him the glass. "It's heavier on the soda this time. You know, too much alcohol isn't good for your liver."
"Is that a fact?" Dean said, making room for her on the bed.
"No. All the doctors agree. Too much alcohol is bad for your liver. And," she said, reaching out to grab his limp meat, "too much alcohol is also bad for your lover. Get it? Your liver, your lover. It's a joke."
Dean laughed heartily, sliding out of Pauline's reach, and walking towards the standing up.
"Thanks, honey." Dean bolted out the door.
Pauline poured herself a new glass of gin. Maybe she should have offered to take his piss, like the kids do at the Lavendar Lick. Anything. She would have done anything, she was so horny. Pauline downed the last of the bottle of gin and staggered out of the room.
"I'm in here," Dean called back to whoever was knocking at the bathroom door.
"Open up," Pauline shrieked, shrill from the bottle of gin she'd polished off. "It's me, honey, Pauline the Pussy."
Dean laughed. "I'll be right out, honey."
"I said open up, didn't I? This is my house, not yours. What the hell are you doing in there?"
"What the hell do you think I'm doing in here?" Dean bellowed. "I'm taking a shit down your toilet, dammit. I'll be all right when I'm done."
Pauline banged at the door with her fists. "Open up or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow the house down. Open up, I say!"
What the hell had gotten into this broad, Dean wondered. Was she drunk or just plain crazy?
Pauline redoubled her banging at the door. She even hit the door with the empty gin bottle. "Open up or you'll be sorry. You got another broad in there? Is that why you won't let me in? You got Trixie in there? Or Marsha the Mouth? Or my husband, Chuck? Why won't you let me in?" Pauline smiled, drunk and horny-a woman possessed.
Dean opened the door for her and Pauline stumbled in.
"Whatsa matter with you, honey? You see there's no one in here. What gave you a crazy thought like that? See, I was taking a shit."
Pauline pushed aside the bathtub curtains. "Who's in there?"
"Honey," Dean said, trying to lift his trousers up, "you've been drinking. There's no one in there. Just me and my shit!" He laughed lewdly.
Pauline turned and saw him trying to pull up his trousers. "Why are you trying to get rid of me?"
"I'm not trying to get rid of you, Pauline. I'm just finished in here. I want to leave."
"You don't like this room?" Pauline asked.
"Yeah, you have a great interior decorator. I love it. Just get the air freshener and I'll move in here," Dean said sarcastically.
Pauline reached behind the door. "Here's the air freshener." She sprayed the room inside and out, to Dean's astonishment. "There," she smiled, "how does it smell now?"
"Oh, fine," Dean joked, "it smells like someone took a shit in a flower garden. Let's go back to the bedroom."
Pauline pulled his trousers back down. "I want to stay here. And you're going to stay with me," she commanded, pulling him towards the bathtub. "We'll have a good time right here!"
"You must be kidding!" Dean exclaimed. "In the bathroom! That's ridiculous. Let's go lie down on your nice soft bed, Pauline. No one makes it in the bathroom," Dean insisted.
"Mona does," the drunken Pauline laughed, pulling him down on top of her, into the bathtub.
"Who the fuck is Mona?" Dean asked suspiciously.
"Someone I made it with at the Lavendar Lick," Pauline replied, tugging at Dean's trousers.
"Mona," Dean mused. "That's a funny name for a guy."
"I'll tell her you said so," Pauline laughed, taking Dean's surging sex in her hands.
Dean closed his eyes and tried to arrange himself comfortably in the cold tile bathtub. Pauline was too much, he thought. A real sex machine. So she had been into chicks, also, he thought. Never leave any stone unturned, like they say.
"Take your clothes off, honey," Pauline said. "Take that big dick out. Oooh, baby," Pauline moaned, "take your clothes off. I can't get it on unless you take them off!"
"Sure," Dean said, shucking off his trousers and shirt. Then he reached over and undid the buttons on Pauline's night dress.
"Strip me, Dean," Pauline encouraged him. "Take it off. Take it all off," she laughed.
Dean pulled the night dress from her shoulders. Hell, he thought, her tits just kept getting bigger every time he saw them. Was she taking silicone? Or was she just a growing girl?
Pauline pressed closer to him, moaning with pleasure. "I'll teach you tricks that even Trixie doesn't know," she promised. Then she reached over and turned the water faucet on. "Let's fuck like fish!"
"What?" Dean laughed, feeling the warm water filling the bathtub.
"Rub-a-dub, let's fuck in the tub!" Pauline laughed.
"You're crazy," Dean said. "You're just crazy!"
"Crazy for your cock!" Pauline explained, reaching below the water to grab Dean's throbbing member. She held it in her hand, applying subtle pressure, as the water level rose around them.
"Oh, baby, take it in your mouth. Take my wet, hairy hard-on in your mouth and suck me off!" Dean commanded her.
Pauline bent down and took Dean's surging sex in her mouth. Her long red hair spread out in the water that had risen to their shoulders.
Dean closed his eyes and imagined he was getting eaten by a glistening, red-haired mermaid. He rocked back and forth, thrusting his lusty long rod deeper into her compliant mouth. He lifted his legs in the water, so that Pauline could suck him all the way down to the nitty-gritty.
Pauline responded to this move by taking his balls in her hand. With her other hand she picked up a bar of soap and began to work up a thick lather. Then she covered Dean with the lubricating white lather as she goosed his balls in the warm water.
"Oh, Mama," Dean said, "that lather reminds me of something. You know what it reminds me of? It reminds me of the hot white come that's up my cock, the hot white come I want to shoot down your deep throat!"
Pauline pointed with her hand to her throat, as if to say, if you can dish it out, I can take it!
Dean reached out and felt Pauline's breasts glistening in the water, firm and juicy. He squeezed them in his hands, slipping off a little because of the wetness. He pushed them close together, and watched them form a new cunt up there on her chest. How he'd love to slide his tool through the cleavage of her chest, come right in between her two mammoth mammaries.
Dean reached over and turned the faucet off. The water had gotten high enough. Besides, he couldn't hear anything with the water on.
Now he heard something.
He heard voices talking downstairs!
"Pauline," he whispered, pointing down below, "there's someone down there!"
Pauline took his dick out of her mouth and listened.
"Impossible," she said, shaking her head. "Chuck's not due back till late tonight. And I sent Waldo the houseboy out on errands. There's no one down there, silly," she laughed.
"Pauline," Dean said, seriously, "you're drunk! There are voices down there. It's your husband! I swear! Listen," he whispered urgently.
Pauline made a motion with her hand, as if Dean were the crazy one. Then she lowered her head into the water to take his dick back into her lusting mouth.
"Oh, shit," Dean moaned, caught between desire and fear. "Pauline, baby, pull yourself together. What the hell are we going to do?"
Pauline sucked impatiently on his dick, feeling it shriveling up before her. She took it in her hand and started to jerk him off into her mouth, oblivious to her husband's voice on the main floor.
"I'll be right back down," Chuck Parker was saying to Waldo. "I just want to check on Pauline."
Dean froze with fear. Chuck Parker was coming upstairs. He'd catch them and then, that was the end of all of Dean's plans. He was finished! He was ruined!
And it was all Pauline's fault! Pauline, she who was supposed to be shooting down her husband! Now she was ruining him, Dean Crawford!
"Pauline," Chuck was calling, just down the hallway from where his wife was sucking off his arch rival! "Pauline, where are you?" Chuck called again.
Pauline, still reeling drunk from the gin, responded to the man's voice. "Who's calling me?" she asked Dean. "Did you just call me?"
"Hell, no," Dean croaked, stuffing his fist over her mouth. "Keep that big mouth shut, dammit!"
"Pauline!" her husband called again, from the bedroom. "Did she go out, Waldo?" he called downstairs.
"I don't know, Mr. Parker. Maybe she did," the houseboy replied. "She's not down here, either."
"Well, hell knows where she is," Chuck said, walking towards the steps. "I'll have that cup of coffee now, Waldo."
"Fine, sir, I'll put it up."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Chuck Parker was walking downstairs. They were saved, at least for the time being. Now what to do? He'd have to sneak out to the...
"I'll be right down, Waldo," Chuck called, turning at the steps.
What the hell was happening, Dean gasped. Chuck seemed to be heading back upstairs. He was. The footsteps were getting closer.
The knob turned and the bathroom door opened.
Chuck Parker was in the bathroom!
Dean felt icy fear grip his neck. Everything was lost! It was only a matter of seconds. He'd pull aside the bathtub curtain, and then, the sight of his depraved wife sucking off his rival. Maybe he'd shoot him right on the spot.
Oh, shit, Dean thought to himself, what a way to go! Sucked off in a bathtub! What an undignified death.
Chuck Parker was humming a song. He was in good spirits. The last poll taken had shown the two rivals to be almost neck in neck in this heated election. It had restored his faith in himself. If only he could keep his loony, big-mouthed wife out of the papers till election day, he might earn another stay in the Mayor's Mansion.
He might. But Pauline Parker would be out on her ass.
"Waldo!" Chuck called, "I can't find the mouthwash."
"I'll come up, Sir," the houseboy called back.
Oh, hell, Dean thought, now they'll both be in here. They're bound to hear the noise and pull aside the curtain. And that would mean curtains for him. And for Pauline.
Pauline, Dean thought, looking down at her. She didn't know what the hell was going on, did she? She seemed to have fallen asleep with Dean's dick up her drunken mouth. But she was sucking him, or maybe it was just a heavy breathing. Fuck it, Dean thought, just let this torture be over.
Waldo came in the bathroom. "Here it is, Sir," he said, handing his boss the mouthwash.
"Thanks, son," Chuck said. Then, as he gargled with the mouthwash, he talked of his plans for the election. "We're going to win this one, Waldo."
"You're positive, Sir?"
"I am indeed." Chuck spit the mouthwash down the sink. "You know, we tapped Dean Crawford's telephone line. We found out that his family owns some old fleabag hotels on the South Side. You know the area?"
"Where all the hookers hang out?" Waldo asked. "Right off Eastport Avenue?"
"Yeah, that's the place," Chuck laughed. "So, here's my plan. I get the vice squad to raid the hotels. Then the story breaks in all the papers that Dean Crawford, candidate for Mayor, owns whorehouses on the South Side. I don't think the good citizens of this fair city would elect a whoremonger to the Mayor's Mansion," Chuck laughed heartily, slamming Waldo on the back.
"I guess you're still Mister Mayor," Waldo beamed. "And I still have a job."
"Sure, kid, sure," Chuck assured him.
"By the way," Waldo asked him, "when will the raid take place?"
'Tonight at eight o'clock sharp. So don't get caught up by cunts on Eastport Avenue!" Chuck laughed.
"Thanks for warning me, Sir," Waldo said.
"Say, we better be going. You'll drive me back downtown, Waldo. Then you can finish those errands for Pauline. We'll leave a note for her."
"Right on, Chief," Waldo agreed. The two men left the bathroom. Dean listened, with his heart in his hands as the front door closed. Then the garage door.
"Gimme that cock back," Pauline laughed, squirming in his arms as Dean carried her to the bedroom.
Dean dropped her on the bed. "Pull yourself together, you twat! You've got a job to do!"
But the only type of job Pauline wanted to do was a job on Dean's dork.
"Cut that out, Pauline!" Dean shook her violently in her arms. "Listen to me and listen real good! In four hours you've got to be arrested in a hotel down on Eastport Avenue. Remember our plan? Think, Pauline, think."
Pauline tried to think. She had a very serious expression on her face, Dean noticed. That was a good sign. She was starting to sober up. She closed her eyes as if to concentrate harder on what Dean was talking about.
She rolled over on the bed, sound asleep.
"Oh, baby," Dean moaned, "don't let me down. Please don't let me down," he cried out.
But it was no use. Pauline was sleeping soundly. She was dead to the world.
Dean got up and lit a cigarette. Get ahold of yourself, he thought. Pull yourself together.
They still had four hours. That was plenty of time to sober up this sow, he thought. He shook her again with his arms.
Pauline smiled blissfully in her sleep.
Four hours, Dean thought, running to get some cold water to wake her up. Four hours, and then one man will be assured of being Mayor of Eastport. And this drunken woman held the key to the city up her cunt. May the best man win, Dean thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Waldo parked in front of Mayor Chuck Parker's downtown office.
"Come inside, Waldo," Chuck invited him. "I have some papers I could go over with you. And then," he added, "you could call the Mayor's Mansion and see if Pauline has returned."
"That's a good idea, Sir," Waldo agreed, following Chuck inside the impressive Mayor's headquarters.
Chuck turned on the light. "Suzy?" he called to his secretary. "Suzy Jo? Are you here?" Chuck walked around the office looking for her. 'That's funny, I wonder where she could have gone."
"Today's a great day for women to disappear on us, Sir," Waldo joked.
"Isn't it?" Chuck laughed along. "Have a seat." He motioned to Waldo. "I'll see if Suzy Jo left any coffee on the office perk," he said, opening the door to the closet.
"How has it been working out with Suzy Jo?" Waldo asked. "I remember that at first you were reluctant to hire such a young girl for such an important position."
"I needn't have been afraid," Chuck replied, closing the closet door. "Suzy Jo Hollander is the best secretary I ever had." He smiled to himself, remembering the other day. "Why, she does things that no older woman could possibly do!"
"That's nice to hear," Waldo smiled. "I'm glad it's all worked out for the best. I'm glad Suzy didn't blow it."
"No, she didn't blow it," the Mayor laughed. "She really knows how to act on the job. I just wonder where she is now."
"She's a real good-looking girl, too, if I remember correctly."
"She sure is," Chuck agreed. "She has some ass!"
"Pardon?" Waldo asked, not sure he had really caught the Mayor's words.
"I said-" the Mayor gulped, searching for the right words to cover up his unfortunate slip. "I said she's a real asset to this office."
"I bet she is," Waldo teased. "A cute young girl with a nice body is always an asset to a gentleman's orifice. Oh, excuse me," he laughed, correcting himself. "I mean a gentleman's office."
Chuck looked up at him and smiled politely. What did Waldo know? There was always the suggestion in his smart-alecky voice that he knew everything that was going on.
Chuck tried to still any suspicions. "And she's such a really innocent kid, that Suzy Jo. I mean, she's the old-fashioned type. The last of a dying breed," he joked. "Sweet and pure. She doesn't even know that there's been a so-called sexual revolution. She is chaste."
"Oh, is she?" Waldo joked, that smart-alecky tone in his voice. "Who's been chasing her?"
Chuck laughed at the feeble joke. "No, I mean it," he insisted on making his point and saving both his and Suzy's reputation. "That girl is a virgin."
Waldo laughed. "Well, like they say down on Eastport Avenue, she's a virgin but she's emergin! Is that the case with Suzy Jo Hollander?" he kidded the Mayor. "Come on, Mr. Parker, you can trust old Waldo."
"I really don't understand your joking," Chuck replied, a bit stiffly. "All I can say is that Suzy Jo Hollander is an innocent young teenager. A virgin. I can swear to that!"
As soon as Chuck said the words, he'd realized the double meaning they had.
So did the shrewd Waldo. "Oh, sir, if you have privileged information, I wouldn't think of disputing your word."
Chuck pounded his fist down hard on the desk. "Dammit, I don't have any fucking privileged information. All I know is that you take one look at that sweet young Suzy Jo Hollander, and you just know that there's one girl who's held on to her cherry."
"Maybe you're right," Waldo agreed, not wishing to push him too far. Waldo knew there'd be plenty of time to get the Mayor to trip over his long cock! And then? Waldo smiled. "Sure, she's a real innocent kid, I'm sure. She's a real maiden."
"You got the exact word," Chuck agreed. "Suzy Jo Hollander is a real maiden."
Made in every back seat of every car in the city, Waldo laughed to himself. "But say, Your Honor, where could she be now, the sweet young thing?" Waldo asked, a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
"I really don't know," Chuck said. "But I'm sure she just stepped out. She'll be back in a minute, then she'll get those papers I wanted to show you. So why don't you take a seat over there in the corner, Waldo," the Mayor gestured. "You're making me nervous, standing around like that."
"Very good, sir," Waldo said, going towards the chair in the far corner of the room.
Chuck sat at his large imposing desk, going over some papers of his own.
A few minutes later, Suzy Jo Hollander entered the room. Chuck thought at once that she looked different. Oh, she was still young and fresh, still slightly innocent-looking. But only slightly. Maybe it was the blood-red lipstick on her mouth. It didn't go with the baby-blue miniskirt she had on. He'd have to tell her that later when they were alone. Poor young kid, he thought. She still doesn't know how to dress for the big boys!
"Your Honor," Suzy blushed with surprise, "when did you get in?"
Chuck smiled warmly. "Oh, I don't know, a few minutes ago. You weren't in the office."
"No," Suzy said, looking down at the floor. "I was down the hall, talking with my girl friend. Pm sorry. It's just, well, no one was in the office here, and I was entitled to a coffee break."
"That's quite all right, Suzy, dear. A good little worker like you doesn't have to make excuses."
"What do you want me to do now?" Suzy asked, smiling.
"First, can you get me a copy of all the bills we've been paying out for improvements on the Mayor Mansion. You know, it's labeled under Home Account."
"Will do," Suzy smiled, turning to head outside to the filing cabinet. Then she added, "And after that, maybe I could suck off His Honor's hot, hairy one!"
Suzy laughed as she closed the door to the outer office. Chuck went white, thinking of Waldo sitting there in the corner of the room.
But Waldo appeared preoccupied in the magazine he was reading. He didn't seem to have heard anything.
Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. But he'd have to have a long serious talk with Suzy Jo. He just couldn't allow that kind of talk in the office. One could never tell who was listening in. Politics was dirty business. You had to be careful.
Suzy Jo opened the door again. "Here it is, sir. The Home file. From 1969 through October seventeenth. That was the last entry. What do you want me to do with it?"
"Wait a minute," Chuck interrupted her. "It doesn't go all the way back to the first year, to 1968?"
"Nope." Suzy opened it to show him. "The first entry, and the first bills paid out are in 1969." Then she smiled. "1969. That must have been a very good year for-"
Chuck interrupted her again. "I can't understand that. There were many expenses in '68."
Suzy handed him the file. "1968 could never have been as good a year as 1969," she said dreamily.
Chuck picked up the file and looked through it. 'That's funny. I'll have to call Elsie, the woman who had your job before you came."
Suzy sat down on Chuck's desk. "Elsie was working for you in 1969?"
Chuck didn't even look up at her as he sorted out the bills and miscellaneous receipts. 'That's right. We worked together in '69."
"How was she in '69?" Suzy asked.
"She did a very good job at whatever work I handed her," Chuck replied, his mind not really paying attention to the conversation.
"Was Elsie better in '69 than I am?" Suzy asked.
"You're both very good," Chuck answered absent-mindedly. "But I just can't understand why we lost a whole year in this file. Maybe Elsie had a different filing system than you have now."
"Did Elsie have a hot twat?" Suzy asked bluntly.
"A what?" Chuck wasn't even paying attention to her.
"I said," Suzy replied, taking the folder in her hand, "did Elsie have a hot twat. Did you used to lick up the love-lap from Elsie's pussy? Tell me, Your Honor, is Suzy Jo the best little secretary you ever had?"
Chuck reached for the file. "Give me that!" he demanded, livid with rage.
Suzy held it away from his reach. "Did you eat all your secretaries? Or was it just me?"
"Give me that folder!" Chuck rose from his desk.
Suzy moved to the other side, so that the desk was in between them. She laughed like a little girl playing a game. "Tell me, Mister Mayor, when you interview girls for a job, what questions do you ask them? How fast they type? How fast they do shorthand? How fast they come?" She laughed again, racing around the desk so that Chuck was always on the other side.
"Suzy Jo, stop acting like a child. You give me those papers right now. Do you hear me? Give me those papers!" my sweet little dolly." He had completely forgotten about Waldo's presence in the room.
But Waldo hadn't missed a trick. And he had a few new tricks up his sleeve.
"I'm sorry I lost my temper," Suzy said to Chuck. "It's just you've been away so long. And I missed you, here," she said, pointing to her heart, "and here!" She bent down and kissed his crotch. "Oh, how I missed that big hot one!" Then she handed him the papers in a neat bundle. "Here they are, Mr. Parker."
Chuck put them together with his own bundle. His heart was racing wildly. He had missed her, too. Every minute he'd had to spend with Pauline he'd been thinking about her sweet innocence. About how he couldn't wait to get down on the floor and eat out that angel's pussy.
"Suzy," he moaned, putting the papers away to the side and extending his arms to her.
She ran into his arms and flung her arms around him. Her little arms had to strain to hold him in her embrace. Chuck thought to himself.
Then she wriggled out of his embrace. "Let's lie down on the couch and eat each other up!" She tugged at his arm.
Chuck laughed to himself. When you're just starting out at sex, how exciting it seems! He kissed her on the head and followed her to the couch.
"Suzy," he said seriously, "you know, there's more to sex than eating pussy and eating meat." He put his suit over on the desk and began to shuck off his underwear. "I mean, I don't want you to get it in your head that that's all there is! The list runs on and on.
"I'm a fast learner," Suzy smiled, throwing her clothes on the desk.
Chuck gasped as he saw how beautiful she was. He'd forgotten. Her delicate, young body was like a flower, her budding breasts, her soft brown hair, her trusting brown eyes, so warm and inviting. And talking about things that were brown, warm and inviting ... there was her pussy.
Warm and inviting, Chuck repeated to himself. And he was one man who never waited for an invitation. If he wanted to go somewhere, he'd always found it best to appear at the door. Most people would get the hint and ask you to drop in.
Chuck lay down on the couch. "Come on down, honey," he whispered to Suzy.
The girl smiled and walked over to the couch. Before she lay down beside him, she bent down on the floor and went down on his throbbing member.
"Oh, that's it, you learned that trick,"
Chuck said, thinking that if she learned how to suck so fast, she'd be a monster at fucking. "Don't blow so fast," he warned. "Don't make me come in your mouth. I've got other plans."
Suzy wondered what he meant by that. She wanted to take his hot load up her mouth, the way they'd done before. She lunged with her skilled gullet down to the very base of her boss' hot hard-on, all the way down his dick, to where the base met the bulging balls.
Chuck groaned with pleasure. "That's right, Suzy, eat that meat. Moisten it, spit on it, give me a real lube job!"
He laughed to himself in anticipation. A lube job, that's what he really needed if he was going to plunge into her pristine privates.
Waldo sat in the corner watching everything. His boss was making it with the girl he had loved since they were children. It had been he, Waldo, who had encouraged Suzy Jo to apply for the job. He had helped her all along. And this was how she paid him back. The bitch!
He'd get her, Waldo vowed. He'd get them all. Politics may make strange bedfellows, but he'd be the strangest of them all! Now he had something on the Mayor. The tables were turned. Soon they'd see who was giving orders to whom.
"Give me a good lube job," Chuck groaned with pleasure. "Lube my long rod. 'Cause when I stick that stick up your tight twat, we'll need all the help Mother Nature can give us."
Suzy complied, sucking him off with big moist gulps, spitting up gobs of saliva every so often, so that his dick was covered with goo.
"Okay," Chuck groaned, easing his throbbing tool out of her mouth, "don't get so carried away, or else you'll carry my come away with you!"
Then he licked his fuck-finger with a popping noise.
"Spread those legs, Suzy Jo, the Mayor wants in. Don't keep us waiting out here in the cold."
He stuck his moist finger up her love hole, exploring the territory his cock would soon come into. "How does that feel, baby? Making you want more up there? I get plenty of it, so don't worry."
Waldo shivered in rage in the corner. He'd have to make a move soon.
Suzy moaned with pleasure as she lifted her legs to stroke Chuck's chest with her toes. Chuck smiled. He knew he'd warmed her up, all right. She wanted that big dick up her duct. She wanted him to fuck her for all it was worth.
But not yet. First drive her completely ape with desire.
Chuck bent down, removing his finger from her honey hole. Then he let his tongue do the work for a few licks. Suzy shivered with pleasure, her toes resting on Chuck's chest, her little body propped up against him.
"Eat it up," she cooed, like a mother to her young child. "Finish everything."
Waldo charged out of the corner. He tore open his pants.
"Don't finish everything!" he warned. "Leave something over for the cleanup man!"
'Waldo!" Chuck gasped. "I completely forgot, dammit!"
"Waldo Walters!" Suzy shrieked. "Whatever are you doing here?"
"I'm waiting to get done, that's what I'm doing!" Walter said, a bitter smile across his face. "Now come on, you whore! Do me the way you did him!" Waldo stuck his cock like a battering ram up against her mouth.
"Waldo," Chuck exclaimed, "I'm sorry you had to see this. Please leave here at once! Go wait in the outer office," he groaned, the lust making him dizzy. Hell, Chuck thought, I've got to fuck that pussy or I'll come here on the couch.
"I ain't going anywhere." Waldo stood his ground, his big cock battering against Suzy's pursed lips. "I ain't afraid of you no more, Mister Mayor. With what I know now, I could get you, all right."
"Get me?" Chuck repeated, somewhat scared.
"You better believe it. You're not only committing adultery, but Suzy's a minor. Or did you forget that?"
The Mayor smiled, trying to bluff. "And who'd believe a crummy punk like you?" He laughed. "Against the word of the Mayor of Eastport. Get lost, punk!"
"I know just where to go," Waldo replied. "To Dean Crawford's office. Maybe he'd have some use for my info. How does that grab you?" he laughed, bending down to grab one of Suzy's tiny titties.
Chuck considered what was going on. "Well, Suzy, don't be so cold, after all, Waldo is an old friend of yours, isn't he? Give him a kiss. You haven't seen each other in some time now, isn't that so? Get reacquainted!" Chuck laughed.
"You want me to make it with him!" Suzy could hardly spit out the words.
Waldo laughed triumphantly, ramming his big heavy cock up against Suzy's moist lips. "Sure he does, baby. This guy would sell his mother on the street to stay in politics."
Chuck narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you know about my mother?"
Waldo laughed, completely in control of the situation. "Tell your secretary to open those pearly gates and let my big cock in her mouth. You tell her that right away, Parker!"
"Do as he says, Suzy," Chuck told her.
"Repeat my words, Parker," Waldo shrilled. "Tell your little baby doll to suck me off in her mouth. Tell her to moisten my meat."
"Do as he says," Chuck groaned. "Eat his dick."
"Those weren't my exact words!" Waldo bellowed as Suzy opened her mouth in fear and started to suck this new intruder. "But what does it matter," Waldo smiled, closing his eyes with pleasure. "It's the thought that counts." He took his cock in his hands and jerked it a little, so the head bobbed in and out of Suzy's accommodating mouth.
"You're going to watch me, Parker," Waldo said to Chuck, who had turned to wait outside in the outer office. "After working for you, now you're going to work for me! All the shit I took from you and your wife. Then you take away the girl I love."
"Be reasonable, Waldo," Chuck said. "I didn't know how you felt about her. Believe me," he smiled, "you can have her!"
"I'm going to have her," Waldo said. He eased his cock out of her mouth. "You bet I'm going to have her. I should have had her ten years ago. I wanted her since kindergarten.
That's how long I've known her. And now I'm going to fuck her for old times sake. Spread those legs, baby, and let Waldo shove it in."
Suzy looked at Chuck with terror in her eyes.
"Do as he says, dear," Chuck said.
Waldo held her tight in his arms. After all these years, he thought. All these fucking years.
His monster muscle sought out the opening to that pleasure pot in the middle of her hairy thicket.
"Take it easy," Chuck encouraged him. "She's a virgin, after all."
"What?" Waldo gasped in astonishment.
"It's true," Chuck said. "I never fucked her. She's still a virgin."
"But you did-"
"Well," Chuck tried to make a joke out of it, "we did a few other games. But we never played the World Series, if you get what I mean."
Waldo's hot cock fell into Suzy's quivering cunt. Too fast. Too much thrusting forward without being warned. Too late.
Hell, Waldo thought, did I break her hymen? Did I shoot through that cherry?
But Suzy seemed okay. She held him tight now, as if she was beginning to find the pleasure the deeper he thrust into her.
Easy, boy, easy, Waldo thought. This is certified pure. You gotta go slow with them. No slam, bam, not with a virgin. After all, a body has gotta learn how to crawl before she can walk.
Waldo did just that. Walk, boy, he thought. Walk, don't run. He'd never fucked a girl so slow, never felt such an eternity between thrusts. Easing it in, easing it out, his cock almost caressed her dewy newness.
Obviously, he was doing something right. Suzy had completely relaxed. She held him tight in her arms, her fingernails digging into her back.
"Fuck me, fuck me," she cooed to the young man.
Chuck watched him jealously. He turned to leave the room, hoping Waldo wouldn't see him.
"Stay there, Parker," Waldo said in a menacing voice. "You're going to watch this little play. You're going to watch me come up this young girl's cunt. And you can eat your heart out."
In, out, up and down, Waldo initiated the young girl into the oldest act. She threw her legs around him and dug her nails deeper into his back. Hot blood began to trickle from Waldo's perspiring, muscular back. Hot blood, hot sweat, he thought. One body product was left. And that would come soon. Hot come.
Hot blood spurted down in a trickle from Suzy's virgin cunt. He had subdued the Guardian to the Gates. She held him tighter, as if to say, now that my cherry's gone, fuck me for real.
Waldo thrust into her with new abandon. He thought he'd fuck clean through, till he'd see his big cock shoot out from her back. He was so big. She was so small. She held onto him and moved her body with the rhythm that nature puts into all of us, the rhythm that cannot be learned, cannot be unlearned.
Waldo plunged deeper and deeper into her innocent insides. The deeper he thrust, the harder she held him. She began to moan low with pleasure.
"Waldo, Waldo."
His hungry lips sought hers. Their teeth banged together in the rush of their embrace. Waldo felt like he was melting into her, teeth on teeth, lips on lips, cock in twat. They were united in the frenzy of their frantic fucking.
Finally Chuck couldn't stand it anymore. He took his own jealous joint in his hands and began to beat off watching the two young lovers go at it with the freshness of youthful abandon. Hell, he thought, stroking his own surging sex, they are meant for each other. I was a fool to mess with these young girls. Let boyfriend, digging her nails deeper into his back, digging her tongue deeper into his mouth.
Waldo felt like he was back on the farm where he'd grown up. He could see it all in his mind's eye. He was right up there, riding a tractor. His swollen cock was the tractor, and he plowed, faster and faster into the deep earth, plowed her pussy with his trembling tractor, plowed deep into her own trembling twat.
"Baby," he groaned in a choked voice.
"Fuck me," she said. "Oh, Waldo, fuck me."
Yeah, he thought, I'll fuck you. Faster and faster. He got back on his tractor and dug into her tract. The earth below him was warm and inviting, snug as a snail's snatch.
"Fuck me!" she commanded him, her face twisted into a smile of pleasure, moaning, murky pleasure.
Chuck felt he was coming. What a bitch, a grown man and I have to shoot into my hands, he cursed.
No, I don't, he thought, turning to face the pair of teenagers who were going at it like bunnies. Dammit it, he thought, no, I don't!
Waldo was coming. Shit, he was coming ten years' worth. The ten years he had known her, but been afraid to touch her. But now she was his, all of her, he touched every part of her, with her quivering cunt on his dick, her lips on his, her teeth as his tongue, her breasts on his chest, all of her...
Chuck grabbed Waldo's head and plied it off Suzy's. Then in a furious lunge, he plunged his throbbing tool down Suzy's throat.
"Suck me off!" he commanded, tired of playing the wallflower. Let the chips fall where they would, he wasn't going to come on his own cold hands, dammit it.
In the fury of her own first vaginal climax, Suzy responded to Chuck's invading venom. She sucked him off in her mouth as Waldo, with a last groan of ecstasy, shot his youthful load of lust up her dewy duct.
Then she lay back on the couch, reaching for Waldo's mouth, and pressing him tight against her.
"Waldo," she moaned, forgetting that Chuck Parker existed. "I love you, Waldo," was all she could say.
"And I love you, baby," Waldo replied, laying his throbbing head on her tender tits.
Hell, Chuck thought, stumbling from the room. She didn't even notice my cock up her mouth! I like that!
Chuck slumped down into a chair in the outer office. Through the crack in the door, he could hear Waldo and Suzy Jo going at it a second time. Kids, he thought. The hell with them all.
He'd fire them both, he would. Waldo would never reveal anything about Chuck's affair with Suzy Jo. He'd be too eager to save his new girl friend's reputation.
No, Chuck thought, he was perfectly safe. Things were looking up again. Before he'd come he'd had visions of Pauline. He knew he wanted her again, wanted her like he had when they were first lovers.
He'd go home, buy her a gift or something. Apologize. Confess. Everything would be all right between them. Right between Pauline's legs, he laughed. He could hardly wait.
Chuck looked up at the clock. It was nine o'clock. In another hour his Vice Squad would be raiding the whorehouses along Eastport Avenue. The newspapers would all carry the story that the houses were owned by the candidate for the Mayor's Mansion-Dean Crawford. Crawford would deny it all, of course. But then he'd have to bow out of the campaign.
Four more years in the Mayor's Mansion for Chuck Parker. Four more beautiful years. And you can eat your heart out, Dean Crawford!
Pauline would take him back, Chuck knew that. Any woman who had once been so hot for him couldn't just cool off. Particularly not a redheaded woman with a red, copper-colored cunt. Those women stayed hot all their life. Even the change of life didn't cool off their furnaces.
Chuck listened through the crack in the door.
"No," Suzy was saying. "I'm tired now, Wally. That's enough. I said I'm tired," she raised her voice.
Chuck laughed to himself. Suzy's fire was already going out. Tough luck for Waldo. But better luck for Chuck.
He'd been a fool to ever turn aside from Pauline. After all the women he'd been with in his life, she was still the best. He knew that now. No other woman ever came up to her in bed. She was the queen of sex, in his book. He'd buy her a nice gift. She'd forgive him. Everything would be like old times, he just knew it. Because Pauline still loved him. Love like hers doesn't die.
His Pauline would always do anything for him.
***
Chuck was upstairs when Pauline arrived home, slamming the door with disgust. On the way home her head was swimming with indecision. She had agreed to screw her own husband out of four more years in the Mayor's Mansion, but now she was no longer sure of her convictions.
After all, she was doing it all for Chuck's opponent; what a lousy thing to do! Sure, she was tired of being First Lady of Eastport, but it went further than that. She was tired of her husband being so busy all the time and not paying her the proper amount of attention-or at least the abundance of attention she required.
She wasn't even doing it for Dean himself! She had lost sight of this little fact. Of course she had found him intriguing, but even that was wearing off. That night she had actually found herself growing bored with good ol' Dean Crawford.
On the drive home, she had come to realize that it was Chuck she loved. It was Chuck she wanted. To be more specific, it was Chuck's big dick she loved and wanted. Little did she know that even after her disgraceful antics, Chuck still loved and wanted her too.
But what to do now was the question. How could she get Chuck back after all the shit that had gone down between them? How could she make him love her again? This really wasn't a problem, but she thought it was. Anything negative he felt for her now was justified, and the problem of re-convincing him of her love just served her right, she thought.
She dragged her sweater behind her as she slowly climbed the stairs, lost in thought. When she finally reached the bedroom, Chuck was waiting for her in his dressing gown, a benevolent smile on his face. She wondered to herself why and how he could be smiling at her after everything she had done.
He simply said, "I know," and walked to her with his arms outstretched.
They embraced hard, and she couldn't believe that something as wonderful as this was happening. Maybe he had caught the dour expression of regret and apology on her face, but in the back of her mind she felt that it was just intuition. When two people really love each other, they just know things like that, she thought.
Slowly she knelt in front of him and parted his dressing gown, and immediately his huge prick jumped to attention. As she grabbed his fat dong and shoved it in her gaping mouth, she knew that this is what she lived for. Dean Crawford could go fly a kite as far as she was concerned, just as long as she had Chuck's cock-in or out of Office.
