The man reached past the naked, kneeling girl to take the one in front by both thighs and pull her back against the double dildo. The blunt point sank into the young cunt, drawing a little blood from the ruptured hymen, coupling the girls together like dogs screwing. When the dildo was out of sight, with half its lubricated length in each distended pussy, the man knelt on the bed behind the first girl and drove his standing prick into her rectum. She screamed at the sudden pain and collapsed on top of her sister.
Betty and Barbara Delson were twins, so identical that, either might have been the mirrored reflection-of the other. They were honey blondes, almost beautiful but a certain vacancy of expression left them as just pretty. In two weeks, they would be seventeen. Barbara had been screwed by half the high school football team. Betty was still a virgin. Until tonight, her sexual activities had been confined to masturbating with her finger.
The twins had met Harry Bleeker at a studio party a couple of hours before. He was older than the boys they dated, almost ancient according to their standards but there was something about him, a sort of gravelly sarcasm, which attracted both girls. Also, he was very good-looking, dark, well groomed, with a profile like Errol Flynn. As soon as she saw him, Barbara had wondered what he was like in bed. Betty felt vague stirrings in the region of her clitoris, which increased enjoyably when he touched her fingers while handing her a highball. There was a magnetism in the way he looked at both of them. There was also a vigorous dislike of women. But they did not know that until later.
"This is a drag," Harry had complained around midnight. His lip curled perceptibly as he watched the couples dancing. "Let's go to my pad. There's plenty of booze. I've got some good records. We can relax."
In the tastefully furnished apartment, he clicked on the hi-fi and mixed three drinks at the two-stool bar. Then he sat between them on the couch, sipping at the bourbon and staring morosely at the rug. The music rippled through the living room, an almost unnoticed background to the traffic noises in the street.
He stirred presently and looked at his empty glass, then sighed quickly as he reached past Barbara to put the glass on the end table. His arm brushed against her nipples and he grinned at her half mockingly as he sat back. "You're ready, aren't you?" It was a statement, rather than a question. He turned his head to study Betty, who was acutely conscious of the pressure of his thigh against hers. "How about you?" He put a hand on her knee and the contact left her confused but somehow happy.
When they did not answer, he laughed softly and got up to make another drink. "We'll be in the hay in ten minutes," he predicted, coming back to stand in front of them, swirling the ice in his glass. "That's a promise, not an observation. So drink hearty."
Neither of them remembered exactly what happened afterward. They had accepted several drinks at the party and Harry's hand had been heavy on the whisky. Betty recollected seeing him take the dildo out of a drawer in the bedroom but was not sure how she got there. At first, she did not know what it was until he shoved one end of it suggestively through circled thumb and forefinger and laughed at her wide-eyed ignorance. She did not recall taking off her clothes but she clearly remembered Barbara stepping out of her panties. And afterward, it came back to her how Harry had found out that she was a virgin simply by pushing his finger into her pussy and feeling around. When the exploring finger contacted her clitoris, she gave a little jump and almost came.
"I don't believe it," he said. "There's no such thing. A cherry in this day and age?" He took his hand away and stroked his chin, appearing to meditate. Then he nodded briskly. "There's only one thing to do," he muttered. "We must destroy it." His decision appeared final.
The vague background music had changed to the insistent beat of Gone Baby when he put his emptied glass down for the second time. "Come on." He got up and both girls followed him into the bedroom as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "Get 'em off." He set the example by unbuttoning his shirt and stepping out of his nicely pressed slacks, which he hung carefully in the closet. It was then that he crossed over to the dresser and took the dildo out of a drawer. "Best cherry picker there is," he murmured, half to himself and proceeded to lubricate the length of the thing and the simulated head at either end with vaseline from a screw-topped jar.
The girls were standing in their bras and panties when he turned and he snarled at them-"Do you generally fuck with half your clothes on? For Christ's sake, get with it."
Feeling excited but not realizing much about what was happening, because her head was buzzing from the drinks, Betty automatically unhooked her brassiere and stepped out of her briefs. Her sister was already naked.
"Here. Stick this up your box."
Harry handed the slick dildo to Barbara and stood waiting. When she hesitated, holding the length of it in a hand and staring at it, he snatched it away and pushed her down on the bed on her back and pulled her thighs apart. "There," he commented, straightening. "That's in far enough. Now get on your knees and you-" he snapped his fingers at Betty-"kneel in front of her. Your sis is going to make you a member of the non-virgin club." He laughed as he stepped out of his shorts. He hung them on the back of a chair and fingered his half-erect penis, stripping the short foreskin further back to expose the big head. He looked at the vaseline jar for a moment, then seemed to change his mind and came back to the bed.
Betty, after consulting her sister in a whisper to which she got no answer, dutifully climbed on the bed and got on her knees, with her white young buttocks a few inches in front of the dildo in Barbara's cunt. It was then that Harry ordered her sister to fuck her.
The lubricated dildo seemed to slip into Betty's exposed pussy of its own volition. The entering head hurt her for a brief second. Then the pain went away as the rippled shaft went on in, opening the virgin passage until she could feel Barbara's cunt hair tickling her rectum.
While she was still trying to clear the cobwebs out of her spinning mind, she heard her sister scream. Then Barbara was lying on top of her. Barbara was being fucked hard. The driving prick in her rectum was also causing the dildo to screw Betty's pussy in a sort of secondary effect.
Betty gave up trying to analyze the situation. The sensation from the dildo inching in and out of her newly broken into pussy was so pleasant that she cradled her head in her arms, forgetting about Barbara and everything else in the ecstasy which possessed her with every short, punching stroke. Finger screwing was nothing like this pervasive pleasure, she kept whispering to herself. If a man's prick was any better than this hard thing in her vagina, she wondered fleetingly why other girls did not blow their cool completely when they were being fucked.
She came to the brink of orgasm several times, wishing that Barbara would screw harder and wondering why her sister still rested her weight on her, instead of kneeling back and giving her the length of the dildo, as she had at the first thrust. Barbara had been screwed plenty of times, by her own confession. Then why was she making such a big thing of it now? Harry could only be doing it to her horse fashion, as she had often heard her sister describe the back way. Betty gave up wondering and returned to her own particular pleasure, pushing back against the dildo to get as much of it as she could.
It had to be that. The dildo quivered like a live thing. The short strokes became quicker, all in a second. Betty could feel the other's nipples hardening against her bare back and Barbara's breathing picked up until she was panting as though she had been running. Perhaps Harry was coming, too. There was no way of telling but the idea of the three of them getting their thing at the same time made Betty's pussy contract around the dildo until the smooth, accelerated friction became more real and exquisite than anything she had ever experienced. She wanted to come and yet the thought of it scared her. If she had an orgasm, she was frightened that the magnificent feeling holding her almost breathless would go away. Instead, she half wished that she could prolong it, just as it was, indefinitely. A little corner of her mind said that was having your cake and eating it. Soon, there would not be any more cake and she, would have to stop eating.
Desperately, she tried to think of something else while still savoring the wonder of the thrill involving her whole body, right down to her toes. There was that gaucho outfit she wanted to buy if she could talk her mother into giving her the money. Sue Cranton, one of her classmates, was going to have a baby.. . . Fresh fear shot through her until she realized that you couldn't get pregnant from a dildo or could you? Perhaps it had come in it. Harry might have done that just for kicks.. . .
Above her, Barbara was still breathing hard but the transferred shocks of fucking had diminished until the dildo stood like a spur in Betty's pussy, barely moving. Another wave of apprehension claimed her. Now perhaps she would not be able to come after all. In a frenzy of anticipated frustration, she began to fuck the dildo, back and forth, hoping that it would not come out and spoil everything, praying under her breath that her sister would keep it there until she got her thing, now that it was almost within reach.
She screwed quickly, pushing back against the hard, slick length until she felt her rectum tighten and her vagina contract still more. Deliberately then, she slowed down to a final stroke which brought the hard head from her clitoris to the button of her womb. At the contact, she drew in her breath in a great gasp, burying her head still deeper in her folded arms. When she came, there was a sound like thunder in her ears and the dildo seemed to be alive, squirting its semen into her in hot jets as Barbara had described orgasm with a man.. . .
"You fooled me," Harry said.
The three of them were sitting, stark naked, on the couch in the living room. Barbara was shivering a little, probably from the effect of washing her crotch in the bathroom. Betty felt warm all over. From time to time, she sneaked a peek at Harry's big cock, still standing although he had cleaned up when Barbara was through with the basin. "You sure did," he repeated. "Usually, when I screw a broad in the ass, all she does is screech. But you cheated by getting your gun off. That bugs me. I'm the only one who is supposed to get any fun out of fucking. That's why I won't do it in a chick's cunt. Actually, I wouldn't fuck either of you with someone else's prick. That's the way I am. Now one of you go fix me a drink." i
Later, Betty had no idea how she came to be sucking Harry's penis. Facts now were all she had time to consider. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, with his knees apart and a half-empty highball glass in one hand, watching Betty blow him, as he called it. Barbara was sitting beside him, fingering her pussy as she looked at the action.
"You come again and I'll belt you one," he snapped at her. "Coming's for me, not for sluts."
When Barbara did not answer, he gave his attention to Betty again. She was kneeling submissively on the rug between his knees, trying to keep from choking every time his big knob filled the back of, her throat. "Breathe through your nose, you stupid bitch. I don't want you to puke all over my balls." His voice sounded a little slurred and he took another pull at his drink. "You!" he suddenly shot at Barbara. "Stop jacking off and get over here. Suck my nipples. Suck 'em good."
Obediently, she turned her head and leaned closer to him, so that she could reach one of his nipples and work on it with lips and tongue. But she still kept on teasing her clitoris, not caring whether he noticed or not.
"Suck harder!" he jerked out. "Bite them a bit but don't get rough if you know what's good for you. That's better." He began to move his buttocks in time to Betty's licking rhythm. Brusquely, not seeming to care if he hurt her, he shoved an arm between Barbara's tits and his flat belly, to place both hands on Betty's face and hold it still while he fucked her mouth. The couch creaked as he quickened his short stroking and Barbara slid off and kept on sucking his nipple with one knee on the rug.
Just as she thought he was ready to come, something in Betty's technique seemed to displease him. He put a hand under her slobbered chin and pushed her away, growling something at her as she sat on her bare bottom, staring up at him in surprise. "Get down there!" He caught Barbara by the shoulders and practically hauled her between his spread knees. "Blow it properly. See if you can show your silly bitch of a sister how to suck a man off."
Barbara's experience in fellatio had been gathered in a single night when she had gone down, at his earnest plea, on the captain of the football team. She did not remember much about the incident, except that his come had been warm in her mouth when he squirted and tasted as though he had been eating a lot of salt. When it was over, she had kissed him deliberately and stuck her tongue in his mouth, to give him some of his come back.
This was something else. She was half afraid of the guy and his standing cock with its glistening head looked twice as big as the football player's erection. The head alone seemed huge enough to split her mouth at the corners. In her cunt, plowing into her and stroking her clitoris, she would have loved it. But sucking it was going to be difficult. She decided to try to. sideways, so that the high flange at the back would not force her lips so far apart.
"What're you waiting for, Stupid?" Harry reached for her and pulled her face closer into his crotch. "Don't think you're going to suck my nuts. I don't dig that shit. And if you're thinking of splitting, doll, the door's locked. So get going."
As she opened her mouth wide, she saw him pull her sister up and heard him order her to suck his other nipple. Then the slimy head was in her mouth and she was sucking away, trying to please him and wondering now if he was some sort of a nut who might kill them both if they crossed him. She had read about sex kooks. They were liable to do anything if they got mad. Just the other day, a girl from the neighborhood had been fucked in the rectum and then choked to death. She decided to be careful. If this one started anything serious, she vowed that she would bite the cock off him, especially if he tried to hurt Betty in any way.
"That's better." He spread his knees wider and leaned back, half closing his eyes as Barbara's tongue fluttered underneath the head and caressed the shaft of his prick all the way back to his balls. In spite of his warning, she dared to close her fingers on the soft sack of his testicles and pop them ever so gently in time with her sucking mouth. It seemed to come naturally now. The big cock head in her throat bothered her until she realized that the defense against gagging was to circle the shaft with three fingers, so that his hard prick could not go in all the way. After that discovery, it was a breeze. In the growing thrill from the intimacy of him there in her mouth, with his cock hair tickling her nose and his cool balls nudging her chin when she released them, she began to approach climax.
Betty wanted to play with her clitoris while she sucked Harry's standing nipple but she was afraid of offending him. But she got up enough nerve to rub her pussy gently on the edge of the couch. The sensation was almost as good as the feeling of the dildo plowing her vagina. She managed to turn her head enough to glance down at Barbara eating that stiff prick and wondered fleetingly if he would change his mind and put it into her clamoring pussy and fuck her in spite of his declaration that he would never take a girl in the cunt. Being weak in psychology, she thought of that only as a waste of good cock.
She sneaked a finger between her legs, slowly so as not to disturb him. As soon as she touched her clitoris, she gave a little jump and pressed against his chest so hard that she could scarcely breathe.
"Ouch! You little bastard! I ought to slap you silly for that." His hand whipped up in a flat swipe and knocked her off the couch. "Bite me, would you?" He was rubbing his nipple where her teeth had involuntarily clamped down when her finger spread the lips of her hot pussy. "You damn cunt, you! I'll.. . . "
He stopped yelling suddenly. Barbara, busy with his flaring cock, had given him a nip which appeared to warn him instead of exciting him further. He knew that a broad could kill a man by biting his penis. It had been done. Generally, the guys bled to death before they could get to a doctor. God damn women, they were necessary because he did not get much of a trip out of jacking off. But when you let them do their thing, you were at their mercy. The thought made him feel a little sick. For two pins, he decided that he'd kick their split asses out of the pad. But he needed to come just one more time. And if the stupid idiot between his legs would behave herself, he could get his gun in a few more licks. After that, she could choke for all he cared.
Lying propped up on an elbow and caressing her cheek where his slapping Angers had left a red weal, Betty felt so frustrated that she wanted to bawl. A minute ago, she had felt like coming. The warmth of his body, added to the stroking finger on her erect clitoris, promised a quick release from the not unpleasant tension which gripped her. The sound of Barbara's sucking bit was stimulating. Barb was probably on the edge of coming, too. It had been like the thing with the dildo, the three of them getting their kicks at the same time and the knowledge that they were sharing one another making the final climax all the more exciting. Now there was nothing. She could not even feel her clitoris rising anymore. There were quick tears in her eyes which had nothing to do with her smarting face.
Dimly, through her disappointment, she heard Harry speaking to her. "Give your sis a rest, cunt. If you bite me again, I'll fix you good. Come on. Get it into your head."
She wanted that hard, slippery cock more than anything she could think of. The mere thought of the rearing head, reminding her somehow of a snake's, brought the ecstatic feeling back and she groped eagerly for the hard stand of him as Barbara lay back full shouldered on the rug and openly began to masturbate.
The head slipped between her lips and back full length into her throat without any of the preliminary gagging. It seemed to belong there, choking her pleasantly and teasing her with the tickle of the crotch hair on the point of her nose. By breathing at short intervals through her nose and swallowing frequently, she got rid of the choking sensation. Everything was beautiful again. All she wanted now was to keep that wonderful prick until he shot off and taught her what it was like to have a man come in her mouth.
Careful not to bear down too much with her teeth, yet contriving to nibble gently behind and underneath the head, she felt him respond at once. He took her smarting cheek and the other side of her face between his hands again and worked his cock in and out of her throat in short, quickening strokes. The vigorous action threatened to gag her as he thrust deeper and deeper, until she remembered in time what Barbara had done and wrapped her fingers around the plunging shaft. That controlled the penetration but he was screwing so hard that he drove her hand against her lips and nose, bruising them painfully.
In her rising excitement, because she knew he was going to give her his semen in a few more seconds, she had enough sense left to hold her fingers against her face and let him fuck her mouth through them, instead of allowing her hand to move in time with his thrusting.
Without warning, he stood up quickly, putting both hands on the back of her head. She almost lost his prick and had to strain upward in order to keep on sucking it. She wondered vaguely if her clitoris was as hard as his erection and hoped that she could come with him. Barbara had told her that it was a better fuck when both partners finished together. But that was when they were screwing properly. Just sucking the guy might not be the same.. . .
She came with the first jet of his semen in the back of her throat. The sensation of swallowing it and the succeeding ejaculations was so exquisite that she was still in orgasm when he finished and pulled his dripping cock out of her mouth.
Apparently he failed to notice that she had climaxed because he did not scold her as he had done with Barbara. Instead, he pushed her flushed face out of the way and went into the bathroom. Both girls heard him turn on the water in the basin and start splashing. Barbara got up off the rUg and Betty, after a regretful glance at the closed bathroom door, joined her.
"How was it?" Barbara queried.
The remaining come in her sister's throat made the answer husky. "I can't tell you. It was too much."
Barbara nodded. "I like it that way," she observed sagely, as though she sucked off a line of guys every night. Then she got up quickly and after a brief look at the bathroom door, crossed the room to where the whisky bottle stood by the used glasses. She gulped a mouthful of liquor right out of the bottle, then poured a neat shot and brought it to Betty. "Drink up," she said. "I don't know what that kook in there has in mind for the rest of the evening but he's hidden the key and we're stuck with him." She just had time to counsel Betty to play it cool, and then replace the whisky glass, when Harry returned from the bathroom. He was still naked and his prick stuck up from the dark crotch hair, seemingly as hard as ever.
Betty gasped as she looked at it. She had always thought that a man lost his hardness once he had come and here was this one still nursing an erection. Then she realized that he was talking to her.
"Get down on your back, prick eater," he said, almost genially. "I'm going to fuck your tits." For all the notice he took of Barbara, she might not have been there.
Obediently, with the feeling of excitement growing in her again, Betty stretched out and he pulled her buttocks roughly away from the couch back so that he could get a knee down. At once, he put his weight on her belly, half sitting, half kneeling and shoved the length of his prick between her boobies. "Hold them together," he ordered. "Don't you know anything, stupid?"
For a moment, she thought he was going to hit her again and instinctively put an arm over her face. When the expected slap did not come, she put both hands on her tits and pressed them around the big head. It was dry but smooth and soft as velvet as it plowed up and then came back for a new stroke. The sensation brought her clitoris up once more and in spite of herself, she began to move her crotch in time with his quick screwing until he sat back and stared at her without speaking. His weight forced her to lie still beneath him and presently he leaned forward again and thrust his hardness into the tunnel of her tits again. She got the message and made no other move, afraid to cross him, although she would have given anything to get her finger into her pussy.
He was fucking in his vigorous style but he seemed to be taking his time now. She thought, between gasps as his weight knocked the breath out of her, that it might be harder for him to come again. In the meantime, all she could do was get the most out of the motion of that smooth cock. Her nipples were hard and standing when she closed her eyes and tried to relax.
His rough fingers in her hair hurt almost before she got her eyes shut "Wake up!" he shouted at her. "No cunt goes to sleep when I'm working on her." He raised a hand and she cringed but he changed his mind and put his hand back on her bare shoulder.
After another minute, he turned his head and ordered Barbara to straddle her sister's face and suck his nipples. "You can get a little tongue stuff," he grunted. "That is, if you know how."
Betty, punished now by his harder-thrusting so that she had difficulty in breathing, did not know what he meant until she looked up and saw Barbara's pussy a couple of inches above her face. Was he suggesting that she put her tongue in it? The thought fathered the action and before she quite knew what she was doing, her tongue-tip found her sister's erect clitoris and Barbara stopped sucking for a second to gasp with pleasure.
That was the condition for perhaps another two minutes. Harry continued to fuck Betty's boobies with increasing interest, to judge by his jerking buttocks. Barbara sucked first one of his nipples, then the other, trying to keep from biting them in the ecstasy caused by Betty's probing tongue. And Betty's gasping turned into little, regular grunts every time the rampant cock plowed through her tits, to emerge with the head almost at her throat. His weight was making her weak but now she had a double source of pleasure. The friction of his horn sliding through the stretched foreskin and then on between her tightly held breasts was even more exciting as he kept screwing them. Added to that, the thought that she was gratifying her sister gave her a vicarious thrill. She knew she would come soon and by the way Barbara's pussy was twitching, she was probably on the edge of orgasm already.
If they both came and Harry detected it, they would be in trouble. Ever since they had come up to his apartment, he had been getting sourer by the minute. Trouble was something to be avoided. She had to come or go crazy. But she would try to be quiet about it, with no hard breathing or wriggling around; just a flat, hard orgasm and that would be the end if it. She hoped Barbara would do the same.
His strokes picked up fresh speed and his balls banged against her tits and she felt him shiver a little. This was it, she knew. Her pussy twitched and she began to come in spite of herself before him. The pleasure was so exquisite that she forgot to tongue her sister and nothing was important but the release flooding all through her from head to toes.. . .
She barely realized what Harry was doing until he shoved Barbara onto the floor and snatched his prick out of her tits, leaning further forward while he rubbed it furiously. The warm, squirting semen bathing her eyes and nose clogged them. She could not see any more and she had to breathe through her mouth.. . .
Dimly, from a long way off, she heard Harry laughing.
CHAPTER TWO
"I'll be a solemn son of a bitch." Harry Bleeker opened the door wider to stare at his two visitors in evident surprise. "The Gold Dust Twins. Or is it the Gold Diggers? I don't have any money and if I did, I wouldn't give you any. On that basis, come in."
Barbara tried to make her tone light "We don't want money. That's not why we came."
"Then what in hell did you come for? I told you last time I wouldn't fuck either of you with someone else's prick. Or do you just like my classic profile?"
"You were stoned last time." To hide her nervousness, she marched into the living room and plumped down on the couch. Betty followed, barely glancing at Harry as he stood aside. Her hands were shaking when she snapped her lighter and lit a cigarette.
"Let me guess." Harry put his fingers to his temples in mock thought. "I've got it." He lowered one hand to snap his fingers. "You came back for another of old Harry's higji colonics.
Nothing to be ashamed of. They all do."
Barbara sat up straight, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "We came back to see how you acted when you were sober," she said, with an attempt at severity. "We never met anybody as rude as you were the other night. We thought you might be able to act like a gentleman, instead of.. . . " Her voice trailed off.
"Instead of busting little girls' cherries and making them go gobble-gobble? Why, doll," -- he grinned quickly and spread his hands -- "that's me, drunk or sober. I'm made that way, dig?"
He turned away and went into the kitchen and they heard him rattling ice and glasses. He came back carrying three highballs. "My hash man is late today and I'm fresh out of acid. However, this is pretty good bourbon." He was still grinning as he handed them their drinks.
They sipped for a while in silence. The liquor seemed to steady Betty's hands and her sister relaxed against the back of the couch. Harry looked up suddenly from studying the pattern of the rug, a habit of his. "I've got an idea." He struck a pose and held up a hand dramatically. "I've been sitting here telling myself that here's a pair of chicks all ready to fly. 'Harry' I said, 'as a host, you smell. Just because you don't fuck broads is no reason why they shouldn't be balled. Shame on you,' I said."
He put his glass down and got up to cross the room and pick up the telephone. He talked briefly to someone he called Hank, then dialed again. "Sam?" He lowered his voice and the girls could not hear what he said except a suggestion that "Sam" get his ass over in a hurry. "And bring some booze," he shouted, as an afterthought.
He hung up and came back to sit on the couch between them. "You'll like them," was all he volunteered. "They're a lot of fun." Impersonally, he put a hand up and pinched Betty's tit. It hurt and she pulled away and he laughed as though at a good joke. "You're in circulation now, remember? Relax and enjoy it."
He bounced up again to make more drinks and the door buzzer sounded as he came out of the kitchen. He put one glass down to open the door and, without looking, shoved the highball through the opening.
"Christ," a voice in the hall said. "That's service."
It turned out to be Hank. He tossed his hat onto a chair, revealing the fact that he was almost completely bald. "Don't worry," Harry admonished in a stage whisper. "Bald guys all have big cocks. Hank's is a whopper."
Sam showed up shortly afterward. He was carrying a bottle in a brown paper sack. "Into the kitchen, lover," Harry directed. "And mix your own booze. I'm tired."
Of the two, Betty decided that Sam was the nicer. He was younger than Hank, she noticed when he came back into the living room with his drink. He had all his hair. There was something about bald men which repelled her. And he was better-looking. Hank was just a big lunk compared to his friend. The first thing he did after shoving in to sit beside Barbara was to put a hairy paw on her knee. When she moved and tugged her skirt down, he looked at Harry inquiringly.
"No, no," Harry said. "You don't understand, Hank. These are nice girls. You have to go easy with them." He winked and rattled the ice in his glass and got up to mix another drink.
Sam, who had been reading the labels in the record rack by the hi-fi, put some on and the urgent beat of the music drowned Hank's bewildered answer. Sam nodded his head for a while in time to the number, then came over and studied Betty more closely, as though he had not noticed her before. "You're a pretty kid," he decided, "Dance?"
He was light on his feet and she was glad when he held her instead of jumping about by himself, like most of the guys she knew did. Whatever cologne he used smelled good and when she felt his rising erection grinding into her crotch, she pressed closer to him and put her head on his shoulder, smiling because her clitoris was beginning to stiffen and throb. She was still a little sore from the dildo raping but not enough to keep from wishing that they were "doing it," as she thought of screwing, instead of wasting time dancing. She had never had a man's thing in her pussy. Now she wanted desperately to find out what real fucking was all about. Was a man's come really hot, like Barbara had described it? Could some men really fill a girl's pussy until it spilled over? Barbara once swore that the team captain had squirted a cupful into her. Harry hadn't seemed to come much but perhaps that was because he did not like women.. . .
The music stopped at last and Betty reluctantly opened her eyes and stepped back as Sam released her. Glancing down, she could see the outline of his hard penis bulging his slacks. It looked to be longer and thicker than the dildo. Her clitoris throbbed almost unbearably as she wondered how it would feel pushing into her vagina.
Back on the couch with a fresh highball, Harry said in a gravelly tone, "That was the best exhibition of dry fucking I've seen in some time. You guys must be hot to trot." When a new platter dropped and a Beatles number filled the room with sound, he looked across Barbara at Hank. "Why don't you ask the lady to dance," he asked, "instead of sitting there like a turd on a punkin? Or should I say like feces on a squash? Where's your manners?"
"Aw, shit, Harry." Hank looked aggrieved. "You know I don't dig that crazy finger-up-your-butt stuff." The big fellow actually looked embarrassed and Barbara, feeling a glow from the drinks, wondered if he was such a bad sort after all.
Harry kept after him derisively. "What do you want to do, then? Just fuck, cold turkey?"
The other moved awkwardly. "I didn't come all the way over here to scratch my ass," he said defensively. "Isn't that what you said on the phone?" He looked apologetically at Barbara and she warmed to him still more, irt spite of his bald head and gross manners. She wondered if what Harry had mentioned about the size of his penis was true. She didn't know why, because big pricks ramming into her always hurt until her pussy stretched enough to take them but she liked them better than small ones. A big cock let you know you'd been taken, while a small one reminded her of diddling herself with a finger. Once, when she had spent the day at her grandfather's farm, she managed to hide and watch a horse do it to a mare. When he pulled his great, wet prick out, still gushing semen, she had come in her panties without even touching herself. She remembered wishing that the horse had screwed her instead of the mare.
Betty and Sam were dancing again, closer than ever if that was possible. Harry stopped watching them long enough to shrug his shoulders. "Help yourself," he invited handsomely. "That is, if the lady is willing. Personally, I believe she'd screw a snake if it would keep still long enough. But you know the house rules, sweetheart. Poppa gets to watch? Okay?"
"Goddam Peeping Tom," Hank muttered loud enough for Barbara to hear. He crunched a piece of ice and studied her face. "Look," he said, "I'm not good with the words like Harry and Sam. I've got a hard-on and it's up to you whether we do something about it or not. What say?"
Now it was Barbara's turn to feel quick embarrassment. The direct approach, even when the decision was left up to her, was something she had never had to cope with before. Getting laid on the back seat of some football goon's car was usually a mutual thing, with both parties getting together gradually, as though following some understood routine. To have it thrown at you, like an invitation to take another drink, was disconcerting. "Does he really have to watch us?" she temporized.
"Who cares?" Hank shot a glance at Harry, who appeared to have forgotten them to give all his attention to the dancers. "Come on," he said, a little hoarsely. "If the son of a bitch wants to get his kicks that way, why stop him?" He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "We'll make like we did it. Then we'll slip out and go someplace else. Read me?"
She squeezed his hand and got up, just as Harry, as though he had been tuned in all the time, came to his feet and crossed to the hi-fi to turn off the music. "That's all, folks," he announced. "School will now take up. Hank and Barbara are going to favor us with a demonstration of carnal knowledge. Come this way." He took his drink with him and led the way along the short hall to the bedroom. "Behold the work bench." He indicated the bed, an outsize double one with a plastic sheet on it instead of a regular spread. "It may be a trifle cold on your asses at first," he warned, "but it keeps the juice off the sheet." He bowed formally and stood aside. "Now let's see just how good you are. It comes to me that I haven't watched Hank operate in many moons."
Hank had stopped in the doorway, with an arm around Barbara's waist. Betty, holding Sam's hand, was peeping past the big man curiously. She gasped a little as the full meaning of Harry's tirade came to her. "You mean-he's going to stand there and look at them?" There was an incredulous note in her quick question.
"S-sh," Sam whispered. "Let's just see what happens."
Harry opened a closet drawer and took out a short, coiled whip. "Let me see, now." He chewed a finger reflectively. "Last time, you took the broad in the tits, didn't you, Hank? If I remember correctly, she was pretty cold about it. Here!" He tossed the whip and Hank caught it mechanically. "Warm this one up, then stick it up her dog fashion. I can see the action better that way."
"Look here-" Hank started to protest.
Harry turned quickly and snapped at him, his whimsical mood changing to one of mounting annoyance. "Shut up!" he ordered. "Or would you rather I made a short phone call? The guy did die. Remember?"
"Don't mind the bastard," Hank muttered out of a mouth corner but his assurance seemed to wilt. He appeared to have shrunk a little and there was sudden apprehension in the look he shot at Sam behind him. Whatever it was about some guy dying had obviously unsettled him. He made no further objection.
"That's better." His tormentor favored him with a cat-and-mouse grin and looked past him at Sam. "You understand, don't you?" he inquired.
"I understand you're a dirty rat," Sam spoke up, "who'd blow the whistle on his mother if he felt like it. Just because-"
"That's enough," Harry interrupted, in a calmer tone. "No need to air all the dirt." His attention went back to Hank, who was fingering the whip nervously. "Get on with it," he directed. "I've got half a hard-on already, just thinking about it." His eyes settled on Barbara and he barked at her. "Wipe that silly look off your face and park those clothes before I tear 'em off."
When she glanced fearfully at Hank, he avoided her eyes. "Are you really going to beat me with-with that?" There was a hint of excitement under the tremor in her question.
"You heard what the man said," was all Hank could get out. "I'll go easy."
She was too terrified now to disobey. Also, she experienced a new sensation mixed with the fear. It was a sort of breathlessness, of expectation. Her fingers were clumsy on the zipper of her dress and Harry cursed and came over. "Get away from him." He sounded boiling mad. As she stepped forward, he knocked her trembling hand away and wrenched the zipper down. Hurriedly, he pulled the upper part of her dress off her shoulders. Leaving bruises on her white arms, he hauled them roughly through the short sleeves and let the dress fall around her feet. He did the same with her slip, breaking a shoulder strap in the process, then stepped behind her to unhook her brassiere. "There!" His knuckles caught her in a backhand slap, hurting her breasts and knocking the breath out of her. When she had shed the loosened bra, he motioned impatiently to Hank. "Cut her a good one." His finger indicated her naked back as he stepped out of the way.
Sure that she was dreaming, Barbara watched her large partner uncoil the whip and run the thong through a hand. Before she realized it, he was standing where Harry had just been and dimly she heard the whisper of the lash as he swung it back over his head.
In the doorway, staring in disbelief, Betty suddenly cried out. Then the whip came swishing down and caught Barbara across a shoulder. Too scared to make an outcry and sensing that was what Harry wanted her to do, she chewed her lips and the whip slashed her again. Pain shot through her like running fire and she could feel the blood start where the thong had broken the skin.
"Hit her again!" Harry shouted. He was standing alongside Hank, dancing from one foot to the other. When the big fellow made no further move, he snatched the whip out of his hand and cut her viciously around the ribs. This time, she screamed and fell forward until she was kneeling on the rug, with her head resting on the edge of the bed. The tears came as Harry caught her by the hair and wrenched her head up.
"Take those panties off or you'll get some more," he threatened.
Betty tried to get past Sam and go to her sister but he held her back. "Play it cool," he whispered. "She's more scared than hurt."
Still sniffling, Barbara hauled herself up and stepped out of her briefs and climbed obediently onto the cold plastic covering the bed. The pain was not so bad now and to her astonishment, which dried her tears, she could feel her clitoris becoming hard. All of a sudden, she wanted sex more than anything she could think of.
"Well, are you going to screw her with your pants on?" Harry's quick query held a note of derision.
Hank had picked the whip up off the floor where Harry had dropped it. He seemed bewildered, as though not sure what to do next. When the other sneered at him, he dropped the whip and began to unfasten his belt. His hard cock jutted out from the thick scrub of black crotch hair as he let his shorts fall and kicked them away. He skinned the foreskin back once, pushing his erection between his fingers. Then he climbed onto the bed behind Barbara.
"Do it slowly." Harry was perched on the far side, where he could watch the action. "Stretch her cunt good before you stick it all in. Then shove it up her until she chokes!"
Barbara winced as Hank's heavy hand found her bruised shoulder. Then, before she knew what she was doing, she pressed back against his rigid prick as it began to enter her. When she felt the big head open her pussy, her mind flashed back to the horse screwing the mare at the farm. She pushed back harder, wanting it all, barely managing to stifle a cry of pleasure as the flange engaged her erect clitoris and rubbed against it. She almost came at the sheer ecstasy of the contact. Her twitching cunt was so lubricated that she could feel the moisture running down the insides of her thighs.
The warmth and the readiness of her must have snapped Hank out of his apparent daze. Artfully, he let the head play between the stretched lips, working it in and out a few times to effect easier entry. Then, without warning, he grunted and shoved, just as the horse had done, except that the horse had whinnied and snapped at the mare's neck with bared teeth. Vaguely, because she was experiencing more pleasure than ever before, she wished that Hank would bite her, too; either that or whip her again. The old brief pain came when he drove his thick erection all the way in. Then, when he grunted again and settled down to steady in-and-out fucking, the welcome discomfort left her and she rested her forehead on a pillow and raised up enough to play with her standing nipples.
"That's it! Feed the prick to the bitch!" Harry, watching avidly, gave a crazy sort of laugh and the mattress moved as he leaned closer. Out of the corner of an eye, Barbara noticed his elbow moving. Through the wave of delicious excitement shooting through her, she told herself that he was playing with his own penis, probably jacking himself off.
"Screw her harder, man!" Harry was shouting again. "Stick it up into her goddamn throat!"
Whether in answer to his host's coaching or because his own urgency demanded it, the big man increased the tempo of his stroking, clutching Barbara's thighs and bruising them as he pulled himself farther into her, until she felt the bush of his hair brush her rectum and tickle it delightfully. His stick-hard penis was the biggest she had ever taken and as he, plunged it back and forth, holding it deep at the finish of each stroke, then pulling out to linger for a moment against her clitoris, until her vagina seemed as though it must split and tear, she told herself unsteadily that she had never been fucked until now. All the others had merely played at it; in and out and squirt and let's go get a hamburger. Even the captain, the best of the bunch, had not known how to screw properly, in spite of being able to come like the horse.
Now she was finding out what the real thing meant and reveled in it more with every new thrust. She was on the verge of coming half a dozen times but contrived to postpone climax by releasing her turgid nipples and biting her already sore lips. To come too soon would mean interrupting the wonderful sensation which was driving her out of her mind. She wanted to save it for one glorious trip to Nothingville when she felt his semen jetting into her. Then she thought she would be able to come forever.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" It was Harry again, mouthy, accusing. "Can't you blow your nuts?. "
As though the gravelly voice released some trigger in Hank's mind, he shortened his pumping strokes to a mere couple of inches and began to flick her furiously, in a flurry of thrusting that drove her once more to the edge of orgasm and made the bed creak under them in time with his impatience.
His fingers bit into her thighs cruelly and she loved every second of the pain. It was like being beaten again, only better, much better. Deliberately, anxious not to be left behind now that the end was near, she pinched her nipples hard, holding them pressed between her fingers, waiting.
Then she felt the first spurt of warm semen splash into her vagina and let herself go. The reaction was so violent that she blacked out for several seconds, conscious only of the glorious release as she fought to clear her mind and not miss a moment of this most wonderful climax of all. Deep down in the wonder that possessed her, a small voice accused her of being a masochist. Maybe she was but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything except the marvelous thing that was happening to her. At the height of her ecstasy, it registered on her consciousness that Harry had jumped off the bed. Out of the same eye corner, as Hank pulled his wet cock out of her, she saw their host finish masturbating on the rug. The arch of his squirting semen only partly visible at that angle, was sufficient to make her come again but this time it was empty and brief.
Later, after she had washed herself and repaired the broken shoulder strap with a safety pin before putting her clothes back on, Hank met her coming out of the bathroom. He was carrying two drinks and looking contrite. He gave her a glass and mumbled. "I didn't want to hit you but that Harry's got me cold." He motioned with a backward movement of his head to where their host was berating Sam, who was sitting innocently on the couch with an arm around Betty.
"You son of a bitch!" Harry accused. "You know I get a belt out of watching people fuck. So you sneak out here and tear off a piece while I'm in the bedroom!" He sounded a little hysterical. "I ought to turn you in, both of you."
"Go ahead," Sam invited, coolly. He seemed much more his own man than Hank. "You do that, sweetheart, so I can cut your heart out. There'll be two stiffs instead of one. Think about it." His tone was menacing.
Betty only half listened to them. She had a cat-that-ate-the-the-canary look on her face. Sam hadn't filled her pussy but it had been wonderful; better even than she expected. More than anything, she wanted him to do it again. But not yet. First, she wanted to think about it; how his hard prick had felt slipping into her pussy, the sensation of his balls banging into her crotch as she raised up to meet his strokes; best of all, the quick emptying of his semen into her vagina, which had made her think that she would rather die than stop coming with him.
Harry was regarding Sam uncertainly, apparently not knowing how to answer this defiance. Sam ignored him. He leaned closer to Betty. "Let's cut out and go somewhere that doesn't smell," he suggested. "We don't have to stay with this kook. I think he's lost his cork." His quick stare challenged his host's and Harry was the first to look away. He turned suddenly and walked into the kitchen.
"How about it?" Sam urged. "Your sis is happy with Hank. Don't worry about her. Hank's a bit slow but if he ever gets mad, he'll tear Harry's head off."
Reluctantly, because she liked him and wanted to get out of the apartment, she made up her mind to stay. On an impulse, she pulled his face closer and kissed him. "I'd better stick with Barb," she whispered. She did not mention that, in spite of everything, she was still curious to see what happened next. "It was-wonderful!" she finished, a bit breathlessly.
"Suit yourself." Sam sounded disappointed.
"I'm going home. If things get out of hand, call me." He undipped a ballpoint from a pocket and marked a phone number on her wrist. "I'll be listening," he promised, getting up. He called into the kitchen as he passed. "Fuck you, Harry Bleeker. Go screw yourself." After an appraising look at Hank and Barbara, he opened the door and let himself out.
The living room was quiet after Sam left. Harry stayed in the kitchen for some minutes before he reappeared with a highball in his hand. "Did that prick go?" he inquired. Remembering that he had not answered Sam, Betty felt less afraid of him than before. And there was Hank, as Sam had mentioned. When nobody answered, Barbara nudged her partner, who was leaning back on his end of the couch with his eyes closed, as though the physical effort, combined with the liquor, had made him sleepy. '-Wake up." She kept her voice down. "Let's see what he does now." If she was still unhappy or in pain from her recent whipping, it did not show in her tone. Instead, she seemed restless, like a kid at a circus, waiting for the next act. Betty was still smiling to herself. She did not look up as Harry crossed over to sit down beside her. She was too busy remembering what had happened after she stretched out and opened her thighs so that Sam could take her.
Hank yawned openly and rubbed his bald head vigorously. He spoke at last as though Harry was not there. "Want to leave?" he asked Barbara.
"No." She got no farther because Harry broke in.
"When you cats get through with the soul bit, we can go on with the dance." There was an edge in his tone, as though he had lost something and was not quite sure what it was. "Barbara, you can start off again by sucking Hank's cock. I'll take care of Betty, now that lover boy's split." From his manner, he might have been directing some sort of play. When Barbara did not move, he got up and took a quick step toward her. "Well, get going. Flip his zipper and start gobbling. What are you waiting for?"
"Hold it." Hank put up a hand like a ham, quite close to Harry's flushed face. His eyes seemed to be in focus again. "Let's ask the lady if she wants to, huh? And don't come any closer or I may kick your head in."
The sudden about-face, after the initial submission, made Harry pause and frown. "What in hell's the matter with you?" he finally demanded. "Am I being unreasonable or something? Aren't you enjoying yourself?"
"Sure," the big one grunted. "Only thing, I've kind of fallen for this chick."
"Horseshit!" Harry exploded. "Since when have you let your feelings get in the way of your prick?"
"I still think we should ask her," Hank persisted.
"Have it your way." Harry struck a pose, putting a hand over his heart and bowing to Barbara. He was being facetious again and she repressed a sudden to laugh. "The honorable gentleman requests the lady's indulgence in giving him a blow job," he intoned. When Barbara nodded, he straightened up. "Thank you. The lady will now suck the gentleman off. It's so much better when these things are done with dignity." The thought of looking anything like dignified while cramming Hank's big horn into her mouth was too much for Barbara. She laughed outright and the big man looked happier.
Harry turned to Betty and inquired formally, "May I have the honor of screwing you in the ass?"
"Oh, no!" She put a quick hand to her mouth.
"Oh, yes!" He began to bluster, then caught Hank's eye and lowered his voice. "I'll put it in easy and use plenty of cold cream. Come on. Get your clothes off or I'll lose this good hard I've got." He turned to get rid of his empty glass before taking his slacks off and folding them neatly.
Beyond him, at the other end of the couch, Betty could see her sister kneeling between Hank's spread knees, stroking his foreskin up and down. The sight seemed to make up her mind and she unzipped her dress and got out of it and her slip. It seemed like an insult to Sam to take a prick in her after the wonderful time he had shown her, but screwing in the rectum, given that Harry was intent on doing something, would be better than sucking him. At least, he would come there instead of in her mouth. Since last time, when she had sampled a few drops of his semen, she'd decided she didn't like it there. It tasted like stale library paste with salt in it. And maybe, if he was not too rough, she would be able to come. The thought made her young tits stand up hard and proud when she removed her bra.
His prick, while not as long or as thick as Hank's was big enough to frighten her a little, even though she had seen it standing up before. He must have had the lubricant stuff in the drawer of the end table, because when he stepped back around Barbara's feet, the head and shaft shone moistly.
"We'll do it on the rug," he decided. "That way I can watch your sis eat Hank while I'm corn-holing you." He pointed to a spot beyond the coffee table and took her warm arm. "Here." He snatched a cushion off the couch and dropped it onto the indicated area. "Shove your face in that. And rest your weight on your elbows, so that your butt sticks up."
He entered her while she was still finding a comfortable position. She felt his fingers pushing the cheeks of her behind apart. Then the slick head of his erection stabbed into her tight rectum, forcing it open. The entire length of him slid into her in a single hard thrust. It hurt in spite of the cold cream and she gasped and bit on a mouthful of cushion to keep from moaning. She sensed that he wanted to know he was hurting her and that was a kick she would deny him as long as she could hold out. It would pay him back a bit for whipping poor Barb.
"Tight as a glove," Harry muttered. "Now strain and make like you're going to the bathroom. Make your ass bite me!" When she did her best to obey, he began to screw her quickly, like a dog humping it into a bitch.
The sensation of his prick moving inside her body gradually banished the pain of his forced entry. She even hollowed her supple back in an effort to keep her buttocks elevated as he had instructed. Her utter helplessness seemed to increase the little enjoyment she was getting out of it. The passing thought struck her that nothing could be lower than for a woman to submit to a man this way. On her knees, with his weight pushing her head into the floor, holding her skewered on his prick, crotch to crotch, with a tit in either hand to keep her there was about as degrading as anything she could imagine.
She found time to wonder if the degradation bit was something which excited women when they lay down for a man. A person's body was an intimate thing. There must be a certain amount of pleasurable shame mixed in with the physical sensation when another person was permitted to enter it. That thought persisted until she felt slow excitement rising in her mind; not anything like the thrill Sam had given her but sufficient to make her stiN-wet pussy twitch and wish that she could get a finger onto her clitoris.
Leaning against Hank's leg and resting an elbow on his knee to make her kneeling position easier, Barbara was entertaining herself by alternately sucking his cock and taking it out of her mouth to lick the head. Every time her tongue slid over the flange where the head joined the shaft, the big guy winced and muttered something and one of his paws came up to stroke her blonde hair. When she took his penis between her lips again, he held her face while he shoved the length of it back to her throat; at least, all of it that her circling fingers allowed if she was to breathe without gagging.
Carefully, because by now she was fond of the big ox, bald head and all, she probed his heavy testicles with inquisitive fingers, taking pains not to squeeze too hard when she "pun-kin-seeded" them, as the football captain called popping them in the sack. How big they were, she thought, as the weight of each one in her cupped palm sent a wriggly thrill up her spine and made her pussy throb.
In direct contrast to her sister, she did not consider sucking a man's prick or allowing him to take her any way he liked to be the least bit degrading. Perhaps that was because she had started fucking when she was twelve. She was no longer a virgin when she started menstruating. Now, five years later, sex in any form between a man and a woman seemed quite natural. Too, after the whipping she had experienced, something new was becoming increasingly evident. Pain, she had found, sharp shooting agony, helped instead of hindering enjoyment. After the lashing, the climax, all the more wonderful and fulfilling because of Hank's size, was more than mere coming in response to the friction of a thrusting prick. Climax was the answer, complete and maybe a little defiant, to the male challenge; physical proof that the woman as well as the man could make the union an individual thing as well as a shared indulgence.
Even the small discomfort she was experiencing now every time his flaring cock head blocked her throat was in itself pleasant, especially if she pinched her nipples while she sucked and licked.
Quite by accident, Betty also had made a discovery. It happened when she moved her knees further forward, lowering her buttocks momentarily and thereby hanging for just that time on Harry's horn. Until then, she had not been fully aware of the hardness of his erection-, even when it buried its full length as he drove it into her. Only after relaxing and then straightening her back did she appreciate how strong the male organ could be. Because it felt like a pole supporting her, she went into orgasm immediately, feeling her rectum "biting" his cock, as he had demanded.
Without warning, Hank made a sound between a grunt and a groan. He was standing, with one hand on Barbara's cheek and the other cradling her head. His shortened strokes threatened to push her fingers away and she had to squeeze harder to avoid being choked by his urgent horn. Then he came, in a long, squirting reaction to her lips and darting tongue, forcing her to gulp his semen as fast as it pumped against the back of her throat. "God damn!" he croaked and again-"God damn!"
Harry could just as easily have finished in Betty's rectum as soon as he felt it throbbing in response to her quick climax. Instead, he pulled out on the instant, without spending a drop and swung around her to clamp the side of her head against his crotch. With a quick hand, he held his hard prick against the opening of her ear. When he came, it sounded like thunder, close thunder, followed by dripping rain. Only when he had spent the last oozing trace of jism did he turn her head loose and start to laugh.
CHAPTER THREE
The Sunday picnic to Lake Elsa, twenty miles out of town, had been arranged the day before when the twins ran into Harry while they were doing some Saturday shopping.
"Well, well!" He turned and came back and stood looking at the girls with his head on one side. "Oh, I forgot. Maybe you're not speaking to me anymore. Or are you?"
"We shouldn't." Barbara, taking the lead as usual, informed him. "After the way you treated us the last time, what we should do is call the police."
"Why don't you, child?" he taunted. "It's a free country. Go ahead an whistle up a fuzz. But what you would be able to tell him beats me. Perhaps you could say that you both came to my apartment to get laid and when it didn't turn out as you expected, you got mad. Or maybe Betty wants to charge me with sodomy." He inspected the fingernails of one hand and polished them on his lapel.
When neither answered, he grinned, almost engagingly. "You might get me on a morals charge," he suggested helpfully. "You know, contributing to the delinquency of a minor or some such happy horseshit. But I have a better idea. Why don't we kiss and be friends again and figure out how to have some fun?" He pinched his lower lip, then looked up. "I've got it. The lake. Tell your folks you're going fishing. In a way, you will be."
Barbara frowned and consulted her sister with a quick glance. Their folks consisted of their mother, their father having died a year ago. Tomorrow was her day to visit Aunt Clara. Getting away would be no problem.
"I suppose we could go. But on one condition. No acting rough and putting us down. Agreed?" Barbara spoke as though she really meant it.
"Yeah, yeah." Harry spread his hands and actually tried to look apologetic. He was a firm believer in going after flies with honey instead of vinegar. "I get excited sometimes. But I don't mean it. I guess it's just the way I'm put together. Well, do we go?"
It was arranged that they would meet in the same shopping area right after morning church. "Say a prayer for me," Harry grinned. He looked at his watch after they had left and strode on purposefully. There were things to be done before they met again. He had already figured out a couple and the thought of them almost had him laughing.
"This is Tommy Dillon." Harry made the introductions over a shoulder as his companion got out of the front seat of the rented car and opened the rear door. "Betty, you ride with him and Barbara can sit up front with me." A passing motorist yelled at him for pulling away from the curb before looking back and Harry gave him the finger. "For two cents," he threatened, "I'd run the bastard down and let Tommy work on him. Tommy's a wrestler," he went on to explain. "I ran across him after I left you yesterday. 'Harry,' I said to myself, 'here you are with two lovely dolls to entertain and you don't like dolls the way you should. Why not invite old Tommy for Betty? The word is that he fucks even better than he wrestles.' "
Betty felt herself blushing at their host's choice of words. She shot a quick look at her selected partner. He was little more than a kid himself but his shoulders were wider than the team captain's with pads on. He was good-looking, too. If Harry's vivid description of his talents had embarrassed him, he did not show it. Instead, he looked down at her and remarked that it was a nice day.
So he had manners, too. She congratulated herself again. "Why haven't I met you before?" she managed to ask him. Her question was a trifle unsteady because she was becoming more and more aware of his thigh pressing against hers. She could feel the hard muscle in it.
He murmured something about living in another town. "I get more matches there."
She nodded as though wrestling was her favorite sport. Actually, she never watched it on television because she thought it boring. Now she wished that she knew more about it. "You must make a lot of money," she hazarded "But isn't it dangerous? I mean-"
"Nan." He straightened up and she wondered vaguely if he was going to preen himself. "Not when you know the ropes. Of course, if you're up against a grudge job, you can get hurt."
Harry took his foot off the gas and slowed down. "Take a look at that, will you?" he invited. He pulled over onto the shoulder and waved a hand.
He had stopped opposite a pasture with donkeys in it. The jack, with a jerking erection, was chasing a small jenny, biting her viciously as they came trotting along the fence. As they watched, the male caught the female and she stood while he mounted her. He entered her hard, driving his twitching penis into her with a humping motion of his hind legs. After a minute, during which Barbara could almost feel the semen rushing into the jenny's vagina, the jack came off her rather clumsily and walked off. His erection wilted quickly and in another minute he was switching his tail at the flies and eating grass.
"That's what I call perfect," Harry commented. "He took what he was after, she got what she wanted and everything's peach-and-creamy." He spared the girls' blushes by pulling back onto the highway. He shrugged his shoulders and invited destruction by turning his head. "You see?" he bantered. "I'm irresistible. One look at me and they all start screwing like minks."
This early, the lake was not very crowded. Harry, who appeared to know where he was going, drove into a shaded area beyond the barbecue pits and tables. Across the small cleared space, a thick growth of trees separated them from the highway. There were no other cars parked within a quarter mile.
"Looks like we've got this to ourselves," Harry remarked, getting out and taking the keys with him to unlock the trunk. He glanced around appraisingly, his eyes lingering on the fringe of woods before he turned back to raise the trunk lid. He removed the cover from a portable ice box and produced glasses and a bottle of whisky from a carton. "Everybody's his own bartender." He scooped ice and poured a slug before standing back. "Drink hearty," he invited. "That's what it's for."
Tommy did the honors for the girls, then walked over to a tree and leaned against it. Betty took her drink and joined him. Barbara watched Harry take a blanket out of the trunk and spread it on the short grass. "Sit down before you fall on your ass," he suggested mildly.
She dropped to her knees and sat about a foot away from him, feeling disappointed because he was being cordial. Although she would not have admitted it under torture, she would have preferred it if he had picked up a stick and beaten her instead of merely patting the blanket beside him. The sight of the donkeys coupling had made her remember the horse at the farm. When the jack's solid prick had gone into the little female's pussy, she had almost come right there in the car and when he took it out, all wet and shiny, with semen still dripping out of the big eye, she had crossed her legs and moved her knees to cause some friction on her clitoris. She was still aroused as she glanced at Harry, wondering what he would say or do next.
With his usual abruptness, he did not keep her waiting very long. Without even a glance at her empty glass, he got up to refill his own, then lowered himself with an easy sigh and leaned toward her confidentially. "You've got class, all of a sudden," he confided. "I was watching you blow Hank up at my pad. You really had that big ox yelling uncle. When we get a chance, you can eat me."
"Here?" She looked around half fearfully, as though expecting to see half the park watching them.
"Why not? There's more room than in the car. If there's one thing that makes me flip, it's a back-seat job!"
Tommy and Betty had wandered off, she noticed. After another quick look around, she reached for Harry's zipper and pulled it down and took his penis out and began to play with it. It was half hard and the warmth of her stroking hand made it stand almost at once. She thrilled at the feeling of the soft foreskin sliding up and back along the tense shaft and the velvet smoothness of the head as she squeezed it gently and teased the sensitive underside with a flicking fingernail. Only when the shaft jerked back after she pressed it down did she lean forward and take the hard length of him into her mouth.
Over at the edge of the trees, Tommy and Betty looked at each other, then picked their way over the fallen leaves. After the sunny clearing, it was darker and cooler in there. The noise of highway traffic was heavier and cars swished by a couple of hundred feet away but none were visible. The thick woods made an effective screen.
"This is far enough." Tommy stopped in a small cleared space and released her hand to light a cigarette. "If we go any farther, we'll come out on the road. He ground the cigarette under a heel after a few drags and sat down and took her hand again. "You're not shy, are you?"
For some reason, now that she was alone with him, Betty felt confused, too timid to go any farther with what she knew he wanted. She had not felt that way with Sam, perhaps because" they were in an apartment with other people. Half reluctantly, she let him pull her down beside him, wondering what could be the matter with her. When he put his arm around her and kissed her, she suddenly clung to him and returned his kiss eagerly, finding that the contact had cured her hesitation. Now she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
"That's better." He held her by the shoulders and pushed her away so he could see her face. "Why, you're blushing again. For a minute there I thought you were going to chicken."
He kissed her again and his brown hand was gentle on her breasts. He stroked them and felt the hardening nipples through her dress, until she could not stand the surging pleasure any longer and reached behind her to find the zipper.
"Let me." He finished pulling the zipper down and peeled the dress off her shoulders. The hooks of her brassiere gave him a little trouble but he finally loosened it and said, "Soul food!" as he exposed the upper half of her body. "Lie back." He pushed her flat and at once began to suck her tits, first one and then the other, nibbling each nipple, first one and then the other until both stood up, wet and rosy.
He sat up for a minute to stroke her flat belly, enjoying the white nakedness of her framed against the grass and leaves. Then he said something she could not hear and knelt beside her to undo his belt.
His weight when he mounted her pressed her bare back into the turf and she moved quickly to avoid a twig which was digging into her shoulder. Then, all doubts gone, she sighed and closed her eyes and spread her thighs to receive him. Nothing mattered anymore except to enjoy their union, second by wonderful second.
She had not seen his penis except for a glimpse of it when he took off his shorts. Now it was entering her, hard and insistent, slowly, as though he wanted to prolong the sensation of the first thrust The thrill of the head rubbing her clitoris was so delightful that she pushed herself up to meet him, then lay back, sighing again as his horn opened her vagina and his testicles came to lodge in her wet crotch.
He was big; bigger than Sam or Harry but the size of him did not hurt her. There was no pain, like when Harry did it in her rectum. Instead, she had a sense of fulfillment, as though his prick pumping into her was the natural condition and when it was missing, she was only half a person. Now she suddenly came to life, a little awkwardly because this was only her second real pussy fuck. It seemed another natural sequence for her hands to sneak around his firm buttocks and pull him to her.
In her eagerness, she found herself going down when he raised for another stroke. She gasped and bit her lip as his cock came out, making him fumble to enter her again. After that, she lay as quietly as she could, letting the sensation flow all through her body, exulting in it, allowing the sustained ecstasy to lull her almost into drowsiness, then spur her back to sensitive awareness of his presence inside her body.
She emerged from what seemed to be a delicious dream to find him sucking her tits again. His penis was long enough for the head to remain between the spread lips of her pussy, rubbing her clitoris even when he arched his back and put his mouth down to find her nipples. She closed her eyes and drifted off, a corner of her mind telling her delightfully that she was being fucked and sucked at the same time. In her dream, she felt herself come and strain her nakedness against his, his weight leaving her breathless, unheeding the grass and leaves cutting into her back, conscious only of his thrusting hardness and the utter importance of their being together.
His breath on her chest seemed to grow hotter and he left her tits and began to fuck her in hard, short jerks. She raised her knees and put her legs around his waist, holding him to tightly that he had to slap her thigh to make her relax. She began to come again a second before he reached climax. Then the semen pumping into her made her cry out and tremble all over. "Don't stop! Don't stop!" She seemed to be crying it over and over, in time with the come spurting out of his prick.
It seemed a lot later when they got up and helped each other to brush off the clinging bits of grass and leaves. Betty stopped fastening her brassiere to look in the direction of the road and listen. "Did you hear something?" she inquired of Tommy.
"Sure." He grinned at her. "I can hear cars and birds singing and you still breathing hard."
"No. It was something else." She finished dressing quickly. "like somebody walking over there. I thought they were talking."
"Squirrels," he decided, buckling his belt. "The trees are full of them. I didn't tell you but one was sitting watching us all the while."
"I hope he enjoyed it," she giggled. "All the same, I didn't know squirrels could talk."
"Could have been somebody passing in a car. Come on. I'm hungry."
He held his hand out and she took it, squeezing his fingers as they found their way back to the clearing.
Sucking Harry this time, Barbara decided, was more enjoyable than when she had first tried it, after they had come up to his apartment from the party. Maybe it was because she was not so nervous. Also, practicing on big Hank, like he had said, could have improved her technique. Any girl who could wrestle with Hank's immense cock and keep from heaving her cookies could take on a small horse.
Idly, remembering the donkey in the pasture, she wondered what it would feel like to suck a jackass. A donkey's penis had no appreciable head like a man's thing and there was no foreskin to tease and rub up and down. It would probably be like going down on a length of hosepipe and the blast of the semen would possibly run out of her nose. She almost laughed and risked offending Harry as she realized that she was being ridiculous.
If only he would do something besides sit there and grunt every time she slipped his prick into the back of her throat and made as if trying to swallow it, she knew she would enjoy it still more. She wanted him to punch her, to pull her hair, even bite her; anything to cause pain, so that her clitoris would stand still harder and she would not have to wait for the semen to make her come. It would even be better if he would cuss and bawl her out, like he used to. Although he had scared her, deep down she had been excited every time he became hateful. Today, he was so mild as to be almost unbearable.
She felt his prick twitch as she let her tongue-tip slide under the head and find the groove there. Why was he taking so long to get his gun? She seemed to have been working on him half the morning and now was the first time he had given any sign of serious interest. Perhaps he had things on his mind. For the first time, she began to wonder what he did for a living. She knew he was some sort of artist. There were commercial sketches on the coffee table in his living room and he had signed a few of the pictures on the walls.
She thought she heard voices and looked over her shoulder with quick apprehension. She saw no one, to her relief, but the fright had made her impatient and she worked his wet foreskin up and back in short, tight strokes before putting the head back in her mouth. Then she let her compressed lips act as her fingers had done, half swallowing his length, moving her mouth up and down as though it was a narrow pussy, imitating the motions of screwing until she heard him grunt again, louder this time, and his hands came at last to cup her face.
He was moving with her now, fucking her mouth while he held her head steady. In spite of her intervening thumb and forefinger, he got too far down into her throat twice and forced her to hold her breath to keep from gagging. His faster stroking bruised her lips against the base of her thumb until she put her hand up to push him back. He seemed to be determined to choke her and she felt physical relief as well as pleasure when the first gouts of semen made her swallow convulsively. The warm stuff trickling down her throat sent her into a convulsive sort of orgasm, which lasted until a twig snapped and a voice said, "Sorry to interrupt your meal."
It was Tommy and Betty. Barbara was madder at them for sneaking up than she was at being caught. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and started to say something but Harry interrupted. "Think nothing of it." He leered at Betty and pointed to his still erect prick. "Be my guest," he invited. Tommy laughed and by the time Harry had zipped up his slacks, everyone seemed happy again.
Tommy did justice to the cold cuts and sandwiches which Harry dug out of the car trunk.
The girls appeared to have small appetites and Harry drank two stiff highballs and ate nothing. Afterward, Tommy proposed a canoe ride on the lake but Harry objected, claiming that he had a better idea.
"Look," he said. "We're friends, aren't we? So let's get all the kicks we can while we're together. I'll move the car so it will be between us and the water. Then we'll spread the blanket again and just do what comes naturally. What say?"
"Suits me," Tommy nodded.
"The men have it." Harry found a level spot for his third highball and got up to start the car. He backed up, then got out and grinned at them. "If we sit on this side," he mentioned, "nobody down there can see us and we'll hear them if they come up to investigate."
Between them, Barbara and Betty spread the blanket and sat down. Harry walked around the car and urinated audibly behind an opened door. He was still adjusting his fly when he rejoined them. "This is going to be snug." He glanced around him, standing while he inspected the tree line hiding the highway, then stretching out full length on his back and shading his eyes with a hand. "Got any ideas?" He did not look at the others and might have been talking to himself.
When no one answered, he went on: "There is an old fucking formation which used to be called a 'daisy chain,' " he announced. "It was probably invented by queers so that they could screw each other in the ass in a sort of mass get-together. The only trouble with the original was that the guy in front had to jack off. To remedy this situation, the formation was modified into what was known as the 'monks' circle,' instead of remaining just a fucking conga line. When the man up front doubled back, he had a clear shot at the ass of the tail-end charley."
"Not interested," Tommy answered. "I'm no queer."
"Neither am I." Harry's tone was more gravelly than ever. "I just mentioned it to show what ingenuity can do to make sex more interesting."
Barbara, frowning a little, spoke up. "What other positions would you suggest?" Her tone showed sudden animation.
Harry shrugged and waved a hand. "There must be several hundred. The French counted sixty-nine, then made it seventy because they had forgotten to include the original one."
Barbara raised up on an elbow and rested her chin in one hand. "What is a double sixty-nine?" she inquired.
"That's easy. But it's quicker to show than describe."
"I'm game," Tommy volunteered. "What do we do?"
Before answering, Harry got onto his feet and inspected the lake front, then studied the trees behind them. "There's nobody around," he told them dryly. "We can take off our clothes. If anyone does come, we can always duck into the car. I'll leave the doors open."
Barbara had her dress off when he turned around and Betty, not to be outdone, was fidgeting with her stubborn bra.
"We don't have to shed all the threads, do we?" Tommy queried. "If any cops find us, we'll be headed for the pokey. I wouldn't like that."
"Me either, but I'll chance it." He stepped out of his slacks and folded them in the creases and laid them carefully with his shirt on the blanket's edge.
Tommy compromised by removing his pants and shorts and tying his shirttail in a knot around his waist.
"I read about a man who used to hunt elephants with a muzzle loader." Harry eyed the half-nude wrestler critically. "He always took his pants off. Claimed he could run faster that way and keep reloading."
"Could be." Tommy sucked a tooth and spat out a piece of salami. "But if the fuzz comes, you'll see my fair white ass bouncing into those trees. And I won't hunting elephants, either."
Barbara, stark naked and unashamed, was back in her chin-on-hand position and Betty was kneeling alongside her, covering her tits with her slip.
"Lie down and face each other," Harry directed. He had gotten rid of his shorts and his prick was hard again. "Not that way." He stooped to put a hand on Betty's bare shoulder. "Head to foot, with your nose in each other's pussy. That's it. Now make with your tongues and lick like hell."
He turned to Tommy. "Take your pick. I don't care who gets who." When the other, pointing to Betty, looked mystified, Harry instructed him to lie on his side behind her, with his head in the same direction as hers. "And keep your cock hard," he finished. "Otherwise, it won't work." He set the example by stretching out behind Barbara.
"But-" Tommy was a little red in the face. "I don't like to do it that way. I never screwed a girl's butt in my life."
"Let your conscience be your guide." Harry had already fitted his standing prick between the cheeks of his partner's behind. "If you don't want to cornhole her, shove it between her legs and Barb here will give you a free blow job."
It was weird. Tommy pushed his hardness between Betty's thighs. It was a tight fit and he could have satisfied himself with a dry run. When he felt Barbara's tongue, fresh from licking her sister's clitoris, slide under his distended penis, followed by her slick lips closing over the head, he was so surprised at the mounting sensation that he lay perfectly still, neglecting even to fuck Betty's warm legs, as he had intended.
Barbara's tongue was like a live thing. It darted up and down the shaft of his erection, pausing for moments behind and under the head, flicking in and out of the eye, while she kept up a steady suction, as though she intended to draw the come right up from his balls. It was the most he had ever experienced and presently he began to respond by moving the head between her tightly compressed lips, while Betty's thighs around the shaft worked his foreskin back and forward in the same tempo. It was like fucking two cunts, with one the continuation of the other.
Grateful that Tommy had not wished to screw her in the rectum, Betty endeavored to give her sis all the pleasure she could. She had never tongued a woman's pussy before but her own brief experience told her where the sensitive areas were. By merely concentrating on the other's hard clitoris, letting her tongue explore it as though it were a little hard penis, she could feel Barbara flinch and gasp and push her crotch against Betty's face. When she got the idea of nibbling at it, biting it gently and closing her lips on it, Barbara jumped as though something had stung her and Betty's clitoris grew harder just thinking how her sister must be enjoying it.
She wondered briefly where Harry's prick was. She would have liked to suck it and increase, the pleasure that Tommy's rasping cock was affording her. It was some time before she realized that her host was taking her sister the back way. Experimentally, she pushed her tongue farther inside and thrilled to her toes as she felt the motion of Harry's horn in Barbara's rectum. It made her think that he was screwing both of them.
Barbara had found time to wish that Harry would do it in her pussy. The other way hurt without any lubricant. She wondered why he would never fuck a woman in the cunt. One day, she vowed before she forgot about it, she would come right out and ask him. Maybe he had fallen in love with his mother and got that whatever-it-was complex the head shrinkers were always writing about.
Then everything happened at once and she stopped wondering as Harry rammed into her and Betty's busy tongue slid over her clitoris, just as Tommy's big cock came thrusting out of her sister's crotch as though it belonged to her and rubbed moistly against her lips.
As though in response to some subconscious prompting, they came almost together. Harry's punishing prick stopped hurting as the splashing semen lubricated the thrusting shaft. Barbara had enjoyed the pain. It. made her come quicker and better but she could not rid herself of the idea that there was something unnatural about a man who would only take a woman that way. Betty reached orgasm as soon as she felt her sister finish, just as Tommy made a groaning sort of noise and shot his load in Barbara's mouth.
"And that," Harry observed, rolling over onto his back and grinning up at the afternoon sky, "is" double sixty-nine. How did you like it?"
"I never thought-" Tommy began, a bit unsteadily. Then he stopped speaking as half the high school football team came marching from behind the car. Before he could grab for his pants, they lined up and began to chant solemnly, "Barbara and Betty, yay, yay, yay! They love to screw 'cos they know the way!" The captain stepped out in front of the others and raised his arm. "Let's hear it, fellows. Rah! Rah! Rah!" They wheeled then in orderly fashion and went away as swiftly as they had appeared.
"You bastard!" Barbara hissed at Harry. But he was laughing so hard that it was doubtful if he heard her.
CHAPTER FOUR
"At any rate, we have something to be thankful for." Barbara put down the magazine she was reading and glanced at her sister reflectively. "Summer vacation saved us. Now we don't have to be pointed at by half the school for going bareback out at the lake."
"We'll have to face it after Labor Day," Betty pointed out reasonably. "Unless we just drop out."
Barbara considered. "No, we can't do that. It would break Mother up. That gives us three months to think of something. That louse Harry! Somebody ought to kill him."
"Tommy offered to but you wouldn't let him," Betty reminded her. "You're not by any chance in love with him, are you?"
"Who? Harry? Girl, you've flipped. All I care about is getting even with him."
"How exactly, will you do that?"
"I'll show you how." There was purpose in the way Barbara got up and went over to the telephone.
Harry had been driving for a good half hour, taking the lake road out of town and answering the twins' questions with noncommittal grunts. "You'll see," was all he would say. "And when you do, you'll have a ball."
There was no sign in the driveway when he slowed down and turned off the highway. Gravel crunched under the tires and he stopped the car before a dark house which showed a solitary light in an upstairs window. The gables looming against the night sky gave it the appearance of a farmhouse.
He killed the motor and got out and spoke for the first time in several miles. "Wait here. I'll be back."
The door opened, seemingly Of itself, when he had climbed the short stone steps, and closed noiselessly behind him. Somewhere, an owl hooted and a few cars went by, their headlights picking out the driveway trees. The night seemed even darker when they had passed.
"I'm getting paranoid," Betty declared, after he had been gone for ten minutes. "Do you suppose he's cooking up something like last time?"
"Could be." Barbara sounded a bit apprehensive herself. She lit another cigarette and the snap of the lighter when she closed it made her sister jump. She was about to say something more when the door opened again and Harry stood at the top of the steps, beckoning to them.
When they hesitated, he hurried over to the car and opened the door on Betty's side. "Look," he snapped, keeping his voice down, "I'm trying to show you a good time to make up for the lake thing. It's costing plenty, so pile out."
The twins followed him into a dim hallway with nothing in it except a telephone on one wall. Light filtered down a stairway at the far end.
"Watch your step and don't talk," he cautioned. You can't see them but there are people all around. This way."
The stairs were so thickly carpeted that their feet made no sound as they went up. Barbara stumbled once and he looked over his shoulder warningly.
Another hallway, barely illuminated by a dim ceiling light, led off from the stairhead. They were halfway along it when Harry held a hand up and stopped to take a key out of his pocket. He opened a door which looked like a wall panel and motioned to them. "Don't forget," he whispered. "No noise or you'll spoil everything."
Inside the dark room, he found a switch and turned on a tall lamp standing at one end of a long couch. The lamp and the couch and some pictures on the walls were the only furnishings and again the deep-piled rug on the floor deadened their footsteps.
The first thing that struck the girls was the odd position of the couch. It had been turned around to face the wall which should have been behind it. Betty was about to remark on it when she remembered that they must not talk.
The three of them made their way between the backward-facing couch and the wall and sat down quietly. Betty found herself staring at a faded print of Degas' Dancing Girls hanging at eye level a few inches in front of her. There were two more pictures of the same size, similarly positioned, in front of Barbara and Harry.
He put a finger to his lips and pushed one side of his picture with his other hand, motioning to them to do-likewise. Suddenly, there were no pictures to look at. Instead, they were peering into what seemed to be backless mirrors, affording a clear view of another room. The change was so abrupt that Betty felt as though she was falling through the wall. She blinked in surprise. Then she saw the couple on the bed. The man was black and the girl white. She had that fair skin which often accompanies dark red hair. The room was brightly lighted and the bed close enough to their peepholes to afford a clear view of the action.
When both girls started back, as though thinking they were intruding, Harry shook his head at them. "The glass is one-way. They can't see you," he whispered reassuringly.
Recovering a little from the shock of Spying on two strange people engaged in sexual intercourse, Betty glanced at Barbara, then glued her eyes to the covered opening. The black man was kneeling behind the girl's white buttocks, taking her horse fashion. From the position of their crotches, he had to be fucking her in the pussy with his immense prick. His erection was so big that he apparently could not insert it fully. His swinging balls were a good two inches from making contact with the parted cheeks in front of them. Barbara's cunt twitched as she watched, because she liked big cocks. They hurt wonderfully.
The shaft of the man's erection was all the more evident because of the whiteness framing it. It shone in the light every time he drew back for a new thrust. His black fingers holding the white tits turned Betty on for some reason of which she was unaware. It looked so much more like fucking, so much more physical than when the partners to the act were of the same color. After another glance to see if the others were looking, she sneaked a hand up her brief skirt and found her clitoris and began to play with it.
Barbara guessed that the man and the girl must have begun to screw just before they opened their panels. He was fucking her slowly, in no hurry yet, pulling back on her tits each time he entered her, his shiny black prick moving in and out of her raised crotch in an easy rhythm. She had crossed her arms under a pillow in which she had buried her face and one of her hands was back between her thighs, feeling for his testicles and failing to reach them. They appeared to be nearly the same age, in their early twenties. If anything, the girl was younger by a year or two.
It was like watching television with the sound off. The man's lips moved every time he slid his prick back in, as though he was reciting something. The girl flinched away from the driving horn several times, as though it was hurting her. But the watchers could hear nothing and it was evident that the wall was soundproof.
The action remained the same for a few more minutes, with the man screwing leisurely and the girl beginning to move her crotch back and forth in time with his stroking. Of the two, she seemed to be more excited and both girls could imagine her moaning and perhaps biting her lips or the pillow as her enjoyment grew. Barbara could not take her eyes off that big wet cock. It was thicker and longer even than Hank's and so close that she could feel it opening up her own pussy. Now she could appreciate why Harry liked to watch people fuck. Maybe his imagination was as good as her own and he got his kicks the way she was doing without having to go through the motions. Jacking off while he looked on had to make it all the more real.
She turned her head quickly to see if he was doing anything like that now and found him sitting quietly, even looking bored, as though he had seen this sort of thing before. In spite of her resentment she had to acknowledge that he was a real swinger. That much, anyway, was due him. She was glad that he had brought them here. It made her a little bit less mad at him for the happening at the lake. There was even fun in that, somewhere. The captain had looked so envious that he could hardly lead the cheering. Maybe, if the bastard behaved himself from now on, she would be able to forgive him. She forgot him then because she did not want to miss any more of that wonderful prick.
Betty snatched her finger away from her pussy just in time to avoid coming. She wanted to more than anything, but the presence of the others hampered her. She did not mind screwing in front of them, but masturbating was a much more private affair. She had no way of knowing that it was the subconscious shame involved in the act that kept her from doing it in public and would not hate cared anyway.
Her astonishment at seeing so enormous a penis attached to a man became submerged in her interest in the girl. Why a black man, she wondered. Did blacks "do it" better than whites? Not being color conscious herself, she wondered if the girl had submitted to him because of his size. Perhaps he had a different technique, although to her, in her inexperience, fucking was fucking. Then she remembered that Tommy had aroused her even more than Sam, although both had been wonderful. Perhaps it had something to do with personality, rather than the physical side. Maybe that was why she had wanted some men just by looking at them or listening to them talk, while others left her cold. She gave it up and hoped that they would both come soon so that she could share their enjoyment. As soon as she dared to she put her hand back under her skirt and resumed playing with herself.
The action picked up, becoming faster and harder. The man released the girl's tits and grabbed her thighs and held her that way, pressed against his own and moved his knees closer, obviously trying for deeper penetration. But his bunched balls still swung free behind her buttocks and he appeared unable to insert the last couple of inches.
"I could take him all." Barbara realized that she was muttering under her breath. "But he'd strangle me if I tried to eat him." Even without touching herself, like she knew Betty was doing, she almost had an orgasm. She looked away long enough to glance down at Harry's crotch. His hands were still but she could see his erection bulging his slacks.
Both girls breathed harder as they watched the couple on the bed get ready to come. Perhaps they had screwed before, because they seemed to sense each other's degree of arousal and timed themselves accordingly. The girl began to work her pussy faster and faster over the man's tense horn. Even in her urgency she must have realized that he was not quite ready, because she slowed down and barely moved, letting him screw her faster and faster and making only a slight effort to respond until he let her thighs go and leaned over her to catch her by the shoulders. Betty bit her lip, thinking of a black torn screwing a white cat.
The bed commenced to shake visibly as the man shortened his strokes. He moved his knees again, as though seeking a better purchase. The headboard was banging against the wall behind it when he opened his mouth and shouted something. He must have come in the same second. The girl raised her head and reached back with a hand to find his thigh, the only part of him she could reach. She held him like that and jerked her hips furiously. They came together and Betty, unable to control herself any longer, came with them. Barbara, all her attention fo-cussed on the man's plowing prick, saw it disappear at last, while the black testicles slammed against the white buttocks in final triumph.
The man held it into the girl's pussy for all of a minute after they reached orgasm, giving her his squirting semen to the last pumping drop. Then his sweaty chest rose in a long sigh and he pulled out slowly, as though reluctant to finish. God, Barbara thought, what I wouldn't give to have him in me.
The man got off the bed and reached for his trousers hanging on the back of the single chair. The girl swung her legs down and went over to him, to drop on her knees on the rug and take his still-hard penis in her hand. She stripped a bead of semen out of the eye and licked it off greedily. Barbara held her breath, waiting to see a blow job to end all others but he pushed the girl away impatiently and went on dressing himself. Obviously disappointed, she got up and went into the small bathroom. When she came out with her clothes on, she sat on the edge of the rumpled bed and waited until he was ready. Then she opened the door and they went out hand in hand.
"How did you like them apples?" Harry whispered, breaking the silence for the first time in a long half hour. "I wish he'd let her eat him. She'd have ended up with a busted jaw." He laughed silently and stood up to move his hard penis over against the other leg.
The girls got up when he did, thinking that it was time to leave but he motioned them to sit down again. "There's more," he mouthed at them. "You haven't seen anything yet."
He stooped over to look through his spy hole and see if anyone else had come into the vacated room. A maid came through the open doorway and spread fresh sheets on the bed and fluffed the pillows and carried new towels into the bathroom. When she left and no one else showed up, he went over to another wall with pictures on it and slid them aside to check for some more action. Barbara and Betty looked at him hopefully but he shook his head and came back. After glancing at his watch, he plumped down on the couch and looked through the one-way glass. At once, he raised a hand and signaled them to copy him.
There was another couple in the bedroom, an older man, probably in his late fifties and a much younger girl. Barbara gasped and Betty shot a look of disbelief at her sister. They had both recognized the girl. She was in their biology class at school. The man owned a hardware store and had a wife and six kids.
Betty started to say something but Harry silenced her with another wave of his hand and she stared through the glass, unable to believe her eyes. The old son-of-a-bitch, she thought. He always helped to take up the collection on Sundays and his wife played the organ. The girl's father would kill them both if he ever found out. He was a sergeant on the city police force.
The old boy wasted no time. He had his shirt and tie off when they first noticed him and he went for his pants in such a hurry that the zipper hung and the girl had to help him get it open. She waited, without removing any of her own clothing except her panties, while he finished undressing. Then she sat down in the chair and pulled her skirt up.
As though acting on cue, the man in his paunchy nakedness knelt down between her parted knees and began to eat her young cunt. He spread the lips of it with avid fingers and went to work on the exposed clitoris. Presently he reached down and pulled her sandal off and held it in his hand, hugging it to him as though afraid someone might steal it.
"Shoe fetishist," Harry whispered. "Watch what he does with it."
Neither girl knew what he meant but it sounded interesting. The fact that they knew both principals made it more so. Barely breathing, they took in every detail of the action. Betty's face was pressed to the glass so closely that she lost several seconds while she polished it with a tissue. After that, she held her head back so that her breath would not cloud her view and cause her to miss anything. She wanted to be able to describe the complete happening when she discussed it with Barbara later.
The girl was smiling and leaning back in the chair with her eyes closed. At first, she sat perfectly still, not moving except to spread her knees wider at the old man's urging. Slowly, under the stimulus of his greedy tongue, she began to stir her buttocks until she was going through the motions of fucking. Presently, she sat up and took his balding head between her palms pressing his face into her crotch so hard that Barbara wondered why he did not smother.
To be a good pussy eater, someone once told her, a man should be able to breathe through his ears. Maybe the old bastard had learned how. Then she saw that he had turned his face sideways and was lapping away through a corner of his mouth. He must have a tongue like an ant eater, she told herself. The thought of that made her pussy throb pleasantly. She had never had a man's tongue in her. Betty had done her best but she was new at it. Her tongue was too lady-like. The swinging set at school ruled that anything under six inches was not worth fooling with; unless it had a wart on it. When you found a warty tongue, you married it.
In her eagerness to see everything, Betty was breathing on her glass and it was fogging. She wiped it with impatient fingers and that made it worse. She had to hunt in her purse for another tissue and so missed part of the subsequent action. When she could see again, the man, still holding onto the sandal, was hugging the girl's bare thighs. She was playing with her tits through her thin blouse and muttering with her eyes closed again, as if she was praying. For a second, Betty thought that she had already come. Then she saw her straighten up in the chair and feel for her partner's ears. She clutched them like two handles and held his head steady and began to screw his tongue.
If Harry had made like that when she was sucking his cock, Barbara reflected, she could have come herself in half the time. He had done a job of fucking her mouth just before he shot off but his technique could not compare with the show that the girl was putting on. She raised up so that her back was perfectly straight. In that position, the lips of her cunt were closer to the old man's mouth. They must have done a lot of rehearsing, Barbara imagined. Their routine was too perfect for amateurs. He stopped licking her clitoris and hardened his long tongue as soon as he felt her fingers feeling for his ears. Both girls could see the pink stiffness of it, like a standing prick. It looked so hard that it might have had a bone in it. Now it was deep inside her pussy. The teasing foreplay was over. She was ready for orgasm.
Surprisingly, the climax was not as vigorous as the buildup had predicted. After banging her animated crotch against his chin for perhaps ten seconds and practically tearing his ears off, she opened her mouth in a palpable moan and a shudder ran through her as she found orgasm at last. As soon as she stopped trembling, the man knelt back on his heels, releasing her thighs to look at the sandal in his hand. Without touching his half-erect penis, keeping his eyes on the footgear and mumbling to himself, he suddenly came. The semen arched in quick spurts between the girl's feet and made a little pool on the rug under the chair. As though its function was ended, he calmly replaced the sandal before getting up and going into the bathroom to clean up.
There was an interval after the mismatched couple left the bedroom. Betty was so excited that she would have broken Harry's ban on talking if someone had not knocked gently on the door. He got up and crossed the room and they could hear him saying something while he held the door knob in a hand. Then he came back and sat down and checked his peephole.
"Who was that?" Barbara whispered.
"The management." He kept his voice down so that she could barely hear him. "They wanted to know if we'd had enough or if we, wanted to stay for the main bout."
"Oh, don't let's go yet," Betty interrupted, then stopped as he scowled at her.
"For Christ's sake, take it easy. You'll get another chance to cream in your jeans." To Barbara, he explained that there were no girls in the house, like in a brothel. "This is a hot pillow joint. Couples come here and have their fun and pay and leave. There are plenty around but this one happens to be the only place that's set up for watching. They just got a reservation for four, two guys and a couple of broads. Let's see what gives."
The foursome showed up almost at once. One of the girls appeared to be a little high. She went straight to the remade bed and lay down. When one of the fellows tried to undress her, she slapped at him and rolled over to the far side. Then, apparently changing her mind or perhaps wanting to do it herself, she got up quickly and stripped to her skin. The other girl followed her example as the guys hurried out of their clothes. One of them produced a bottle and hunted for glasses in the bathroom. Finding only two, he poured a straight drink for the girls, then took a swig from the bottle and handed it to his friend. None of them looked to be over twenty.
Betty glanced at Barbara and shrugged. She did not know any of them and neither did her sister. There was nothing remarkable about these newcomers except that they were walking about as naked as jaybirds, knocking back straight whisky as though it was going out of style. Neither of the girls had anything sensational in the way of tits. In fact, they were little more than bee stings, Betty decided, feeling her own with warrantable pride. Barbara was disappointed because both men seemed under-pricked. And neither had a hard-on, as might have been expected with all that young pussy around. She wondered fleetingly if they were queer.
The bottle was half empty before anyone made a pass. Then one of the men went over to the other and kissed him on the lips, then knelt down in front of him and started to suck his prick. The girls did not even look at them. They put their arms around each other and walked over to the bed and stretched out on it.
"Homos," Harry murmured. "But they do it the other way, too, so the man said."
Barbara took time to analyze her feeling about queers. She had nothing against them personally, in the same way that she had no hang-ups about color. Sex, she had decided, should be interpreted according to the individual. To her way of thinking, after reading history, there had been far too much fuss about this most elementary urge, which after all was as natural as breathing. The bigotry and hypocrisy attendant on sexual intercourse down the centuries smacked to her not only an insult to the entire human race but to her personally. She did not believe that, because she sucked pricks and screwed like a mink, she was anything less than she should have been. Mouths should be used for other purposes than taking in food, in the same way that a cunt was not there only to pee through.
But there was something about a man eating another man that irked her. She had not made up her mind yet whether this was repulsion or merely jealousy. In all fairness, because she thought cock sucking was strictly a female prerogative, it might be the last; all the more possible because she felt no resentment at a woman tonguing another.
A detail of the gobbling scene before her put a quick stop to her rationalizing. She drew a quick breath as she noticed the standing man's penis. The last time she had inspected it, it had looked like a flabby wiener with an end squeezed out. Now, as the kneeling guy took it out of his mouth to kiss it, it was standing up, hard and straight, every bit as big as Hank's. The head, shiny with fresh saliva, was more oval than pointed and the rigid shaft behind it was thicker than her three fingers. She was almost drooling. What a beauty, for sucking or fucking or a lot of each. She closed her eyes for a minute, imagining what that egg-shaped head could do to her clitoris and how it would feel straining into her throat while he came. When she opened them, both men were kneeling on the rug. The owner of the erstwhile wiener was screwing his partner enthusiastically in the rectum. She had no quarrel with that, male or female, an ass was an ass. However, she had one reservation. She thought it was a sinful waste of cock.
Betty had also been watching the men. Because she knew how it felt to have a hard prick shoved into her that way, she felt sorry for the guy in front until she saw his face. Then she changed her mind quickly. The guy was flying, up on cloud something-or-other, smirking and blinking his eyes every time the stiff horn drove in, backing up when it retreated as though afraid of losing it. She half expected to see him lick his lips. As though he could read her mind, his tongue lapped out and left his mouth red and shiny. He reached back with both hands and pulled the cheeks of his behind further apart, to give his partner fuller entry. Then his prick began to rise.
like the other, as Barbara had noticed when the men got undressed, his penis when soft was a puny thing, the head covered by a long foreskin and not much thicker than her middle finger. Now the head was emerging, the foreskin rolling back behind it to make a ruff, exposing the growing eye. The shaft swelled and became hard as Betty watched, so quickly that in moments it was standing up against his belly, an inch or two below his navel. She heard Barbara mutter something and knew that she could not believe it, either. Even Harry, until now mostly indifferent once he had seen what was going on, was staring intently and shaking his head.
The owner of the surprising prick backed up even more. He was slobbering and moving his mouth idiotically when he brought one hand forward and began to jack off. He held his penis back against the tightening testicles so that the peeled foreskin went over the head when he rubbed forward, then retreated fully on the return stroke. Betty risked clouding her glass again. Her face was almost touching it because she wanted to see the come squirt out of that big eye. Her clitoris quivered and she put her hand under her skirt again and teased it with her finger. , Now that she had admired the man's erection and was feeling frustrated because she could not do anything about it, Barbara took time to look over at the bed. The two girls were lying facing each other, head to crotch, doing a vigorous sixty-nine. The one who had preferred to undress herself seemed to be the active one, although there was nothing masculine about her to suggest a dyke. Nor was the other one overly submissive. They lay with their arms around each other, completely absorbed in what they were doing, taking no more notice of the screwing men than if they had not been there. Barbara hoped that Betty was watching them, so that she could get a few pointers. The way she was feeling, her sister could eat her any time and it would be much better when she knew how. It would be handy to have an expert cunt lapper in the family. Sex would then be as easy as going into the kitchen and making a cup of coffee.
The two on the rug timed their orgasm to a mutual quickening of the action. The one doing the buggering reached up under the other's hairless chest and found his raised nipples, as though he were a woman with tits to hold. He played with them, pinching and tugging while he began to screw harder. The other raised his head and moved his lips and throat as though he was drinking. Betty, watching avidly, was sorry about the soundproofing. She was sure that he was saying something and she wanted to hear what it was.
Their coming betrayed mutual familiarity with the act of cornholing. The active one must have jetted the first drop of semen into the other's rectum, judging by the convulsive twitch and the sudden furious way he began to fuck his hand. He came in the next second, holding his penis almost straight up, so that Betty could see the semen pumping as his frantic fingers fiddled him off. Now there was more of the stuff on the rug than when the old man shot his load. The maid would have another cleaning job.
The man behind humped into his partner in a final thrust. Then he uncoupled unhurriedly and walked into the bathroom. The other stayed there on his knees for a minute, jerking his cock and squeezing the last of the semen out of it. Then he got up and sat in the chair and began to giggle, stroking his collapsing horn while the tears rolled down his cheeks.
It was a funny way to end a fuck, Betty thought. She had not had much experience. This was the first time she had seen gay boys playing, but she always felt relaxed and happy after she had been screwed. So why was the guy crying? It was a full minute before she realized that he was reacting to pent up emotion and that his tears represented pleasure. Then she remembered that she was sitting there with her hand up her skirt. Barbara smiled at her and Harry turned his head to hide a grin. She straightened up primly, taking her hand away ana" fixing her attention on the female members of the cast. To hell with Harry, anyway. He'd jacked off right in front of her. And Barbara was no saint.
Apparently the girls had done their thing while she was busy looking at the men. One had rolled over onto her face and the other was helping herself to a slug out of the bottle. She threw her head back and gargled the whisky before swallowing it.
Betty waited for her to start putting her clothes on but she set the bottle down and walked back to the bed, dabbing at some of the liquor which had trickled between her breasts. She laid a hand on the other girl's shoulder and rolled her onto her back just as the first guy came out of the bathroom. The second man had stopped giggling and was sitting with his head against the wall, apparently asleep. When his late partner shook him, he opened his eyes wide, looking as though he had been dreaming. Both girls got off the bed and came over and the four of them evidently had an argument. Again, Betty wished that someone would turn the sound on. From the way the women walked around the guy in the chair, throwing their hands up and pointing to him as they harangued the other one, the conversation must have been interesting.
The vigorous pantomime ended as quickly as it had begun. The girls returned to the bed and the two men followed them. Apparently, they had decided during the huddle what they were going to do. They got into position without talking, the ex-giggler waiting until the more active girl had stretched out on her back. When she had adjusted the pillow to her liking, he got onto his knees and straddled her chest so that all she had to do to suck his cock was to hold it and put it in her mouth. He reached behind him and found her legs and pulled her knees up until they were touching his buttocks. The other girl picked up the action, lying on her belly with her tongue in easy reach of the first one's pussy. She put an arm forward and brought the free pillow back and shoved it under her hips so that she was stretched over it with her buttocks elevated. Then the second man put a knee on either side of her thighs and buried his new erection in her cunt.
Harry put a hand alongside his mouth and whispered, a bit hoarsely, "That's what they call a Whorehouse Sandwich; a little bit of everything."
Of the two girls, Barbara could not make up her mind which she would like to have been. The one on her back was enjoying a double serving, sucking and being sucked at the same time, while the one lying on her stomach was eating pussy while her own was being screwed. In addition to the ingenuity of the arrangement, she was surprised at the switch in sexual preference. Then, after sorting them out, she decided that the only one really out of character was the guy fucking the girl, after fucking his friend in the ass. That made him bisexual, able to enjoy a man or a woman with equal facility. The girl sucking the other guy off might have edged into that category, because she had started off by going down on her partner. The man who was being eaten was true to type; a gay boy who, having taken rt in the back way, was enjoying a variation in front. The last one, the girl being horse fucked, was probably a normal kid who enjoyed a spot of tongue work on the side.
These distinctions of her sister were lost on
Betty. All that interested her was the action. Motivation was not in her book. She marveled again at the size of the erection in the girl's mouth, wondering how anyone could gobble a penis that big without throwing up. Barbara could have given her a few points on that but she was busy taking in the scene. And she was copying Betty by indulging in a little clitoris tickling while she watched. That seemed to make it legal and Betty started to play with herself again, hoping she could wait to come with the performers on the other side of the glass.
Then she saw Harry unzip his pants and take his cock out and begin to masturbate. That banished the last of her scruples and she pulled her skirt up around her hips and pushed her finger farther up and rode it in time with the end man's thrusting. Barbara joined her and the three of them sat there like kids on a log, fucking themselves as though unable to stop.
The sudden bright light frightened Betty enough to make Tier take her hand away and pull her skirt down quickly. Then it was gone and the stand lamp was again the only illumination. She looked back to find Harry and ask him what it was but he was not there anymore. When her eyes focused, she saw him standing by the door. He was motioning to them to join him. "Show's over," he grunted. "Let's go."
"What was that light?" Barbara asked him as they filed out into the hall.
In place of answering, he led the way downstairs, then told them to go on out to the car and wait. He joined them in a few minutes and they drove off. In town, he dropped them near their house. He was about to go on when he seemed to remember something and handed Barbara an envelope. "With the compliments of the management," he grinned. "Don't open it until you get home."
"Oh", no! Look!" Barbara was holding a shiny photograph, obviously made by a self-printing camera. Harry had turned his head but the twins' faces were clear. So was what they were doing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Betty was close to tears. Barbara was pacing around the living room, stopping to say something, refusing to sit down. Harry was sitting on the couch, sipping a drink. Of the three, he was the calmest.
"Why did you do it?" Barbara demanded for the tenth time. "What have we ever done to you to make you so hateful?" She had been asking the same question ever since they arrived at his apartment.
He made a gesture with his free hand. "Nothing. It was done long before you made the scene. A headshrinker would classify me as antisocial."
"What does that mean?" She stopped pacing again to lean on the back of a chair and regard him distastefully. In spite of her agitation, she admitted to feeling a little curious. "Does having a picture of us made make you feel better? We haven't got any money, so we're no good to you that way."
"That's what you think, pussycat." He finished his drink and put the glass down, then felt in his inside pocket and produced another envelope. "See this? Inside is the negative of your picture. Uh-uh." He put it back in his pocket as Barbara took a quick step toward him. "No touchee." Deliberately, he got up and went into the kitchen.
"Bastard," she said to his retreating back.
Betty gave her sister a look of pure misery. "All he's got to do is show that picture around and we're dead."
"You're telling me?" Barbara walked around the chair and sat in it. "We've got to play along with him and he knows it. That's why he had it taken."
Harry returned from the kitchen, carrying three glasses. Smoothly, the perfect host, he handed one to each girl and carried his own back to the couch. He took a long swallow and used the handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his mouth. "I think it's time we had a long talk," he said, with no particular emphasis.
"What else have we been doing?" He was cooking up some mischief, Barbara knew. There was a phoniness in his voice and that handkerchief bit was a little too impressive. He normally used the back of his hand. When he sat there looking down at the rug without answering, she was further convinced. He only did that when he was thinking. "What do you want us to do?"
He looked up finally and drank some more whisky. "Nothing," he said slowly, "I don't believe you," Barbara said flatly.
He grinned at her and rattled the ice in his drink. "You will," was all he answered. "But first, you've both got to go to school."
Half an hour later, he opened a drawer and produced the double dildo. "Last time," he frowned at Barbara, "you used this as though it was a stick. See? It's flexible." He bent the hard rubber with his fingers. "I have another one with a pair of artificial balls on it but we'll come to that later. Now get busy and practice."
They were both undressed. Barbara took the dildo and climbed onto the bed. The plastic sheet was cold when she knelt on it. Harry handed her a tube of lubricant and she anointed both ends of the dildo, feeling a flicker of excitement in spite of herself as the ridged shaft slid through her fingers. Methodically, she put the screw cap back on the tube and dropped it on the night table. Then she spread her thighs and carefully pushed the dildo into her vagina. She inserted it, moving it back and forth for a better fit, until all but about six inches were inside her and the other end of the thing jutted out like a thick penis. Then she beckoned to Betty. "Come on."
"Do I have to?" Her sister regarded her piteously. The damned dildo was hard and too big for her pussy. It had hurt like hell the last time, when Harry made Barbara take her cherry.
Barbara nodded. "I'm afraid so."
Harry interrupted. "Now that's where you get off the track," he said critically. "Your approach to fucking and being fucked should be an expectant, happy one. At least, that's what the experts say. Just relax and let it happen naturally. If you fight it, you won't like it."
"Relax, your grandmother's douche bag," Betty grumbled as she got onto the bed and knelt in front of her sister. "I wish you had that thing shoved up your ass. Then you'd know what it felt like." But she cooperated, even when Barbara parted her shrinking buttocks and guided the end of the dildo between the lips of her pussy. "Go easy," she whispered over a shoulder. "Remember, I don't dig pain like you do."
So Betty knew, Barbara thought. Somehow, perhaps from a chance remark, she had guessed that her sister was a masochist. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now except to keep that son-of-a-bitch happy. He had them completely at his mercy. She shuddered when she thought of what a copy of the photograph mailed to her mother or the school principal would do. Deliberately, she stopped thinking about it and concentrated on making it as easy on Betty as she could.
Despite her agitation, the dildo beginning to slip in and out of her pussy felt increasingly pleasant. She dropped .a pillow and saw Betty bury her head in it. Then she made her mind a blank and settled down to steady screwing, trying to believe that the stiff thing that was fucking her back was the colored man's great prick and not just a contraption bought in a store.
Presently she felt Betty's pussy twitch and contract in response and hoped that she was enjoying it now that the pain of entry was past. She looked up to see where Harry was and found him bending over them critically. The side of the bed hid the lower half of him and she could not see his crotch. But she would have bet money if she'd had any that his prick was as stiff as the dildo.
"Hump it up her further," he counseled. "You're fucking her with the head. Get it into her further, so that she gets the feeling all the way."
Betty gasped as Barbara pushed harder. She was trembling as though she were cold but the circular movement of her behind indicated that she was getting some enjoyment out of it.
After another minute, Harry showed her how to circle the center of the dildo with her finger and thumb. "That way, you can hold it still and fuck it harder; something to remember when you're ready to come."
She wondered then if he really had an erection. His voice sounded toneless, as though he was reading out of a book with no feeling, merely complying with the business in hand. To hell with him. She did not really mean that, either. Even in his hatefulness, there was something that attracted her.
Quickening excitement made her forget him and she became briefly angry with herself because she wanted to come. How was that possible, she wondered. Screwing was the last thing in her mind when they had hurried over to his apartment to try and talk him out of using that dammed picture and here they were on his bed, fucking like a couple of faggots, while he looked on and gave her lessons. And yet it was thrilling. The dildo really felt like a big horny cock and she wasn't one to mix sentiment with intercourse. The physical part of it was what she craved, the stretching, the pain, the friction in her hot pussy; not like Betty, who liked to smother a fuck with personality. Barbara fucked the prick, not the man.
There was no discomfort anymore. The pain had gone, leaving in its place an eagerness for orgasm. There would be no gushing semen to make the finish more vivid, but that could be offset by the fact that she did not have to wait for it to squirt into her. She could take her time, lining herself up to get the maximum pleasure, then come any time she wished. Men, she had found, liked the girl to wait for them. A dildo was impersonal.
Betty burrowed into the pillow and almost screamed as the thick shaft entered her. Harry's previous counsel that a pussy would stretch a yard before it would tear an inch was no comfort. The thing was there, boring into her and opening her pussy, sending waves of pain all through her until she was sure she couldn't stand any more. If having a baby was like this, she hoped she never got pregnant. She would just die.
Barbara pushed harder and strangely that seemed to ease the splitting sensation. Now the dildo was all the way in. Recovering a bit, Betty wondered what was missing. Then she realized that there were no balls swinging between her thighs. The couple of times she had done it that way with Sam and Tommy, she had liked the balls there where she could reach back and play with them while she was being screwed. It seemed to make the union more complete. She had learned that handling a man's testicles while his cock was up her afforded her an additional thrill, a sort of proof that she was really being fucked and that presently the semen manufactured in these same nuts would come squirting into her pussy and make her own climax all the more wonderful.
The lack of balls was partly made up for by the ridges running across the dildo's shaft. They engaged her clitoris and stimulated it to a higher pitch than a penis. And except for its length, which was a little shorter than Tommy's erection, it was gratifying, sufficient to make her respond by working with it. There was something else missing. She tried to think what it could be, then decided that it was the warm feeling of a man in her. For all its hardness and exciting construction, the dildo was cold. Only its size redeemed it from being like her finger.
"Don't forget that you're the boss." Harry was coaching again and Barbara listened with part of her awareness. The rest was busy building up to coming. "You'll both get more out of it if you finish together. If you're not ready, one of you should stop screwing until the other catches up. A whore told me that and the lesbians know it. Just a trick, but a good one."
On an impulse, Barbara reached forward under her sister and caught her hard tits. Holding her crotch almost against Betty's buttocks, she moved the dildo in and out of their vaginas in short, crisp strokes while she played with the standing nipples. Harder and harder, shortening the strokes still more as she quickened the action, she drove the rigid shaft into both of them, remembering what Harry had said about it being flexible and edging first to one side and then the other to get the fullest measure of sensation.
A minute of that and both of them were breathing in short, sighing gasps in time to the movement of the shaft which held them together. Barbara tried to slow the action until she knew how Betty was doing but the flooding pleasure was too much. She buried the dildo in one last plunge and kept on fucking it while she came.
"Nice going." It was Harry again. "You both came, right on the money. Take it easy for a while. I'll fix you a drink."
"What's he up to?" Betty asked. She was still breathing a trifle raggedly. They were lying on their backs, flinching away from the smooth coldness of the plastic spread. "Do you think he's training us for something, like he's going to make prostitutes out of us?"
"Maybe." Barbara found that she didn't care very much. A good come like that always relaxed her. "Or perhaps you'd rather Mother get that photograph."
"Oh, no! I'd fuck all night rather than have that happen." She started to cry. Barbara patted her shoulder and she was dry-eyed when Harry came back with three highballs.
There was a sort of punctiliousness about the way he handed them their drinks; a proprietary interest which he had not shown before.
"It's like he owned us," Barbara told herself, sipping nonetheless with appreciation. She followed that thought up with another. "As a matter-of-fact, he does."
"You forgot to jack off," she reminded him, aloud. It wouldn't hurt to humor him a little. "You haven't lost your touch, have you?"
He grinned at her over his glass and appeared to consider. "Not so you could tell," he said. "A fortune teller once vowed that I'd die in a cat house with a hard-on when I was a hundred. I'm only thirty-three, so there's time." He became serious. "I'm going to teach you all I know until you're the best lays in this county." He sat down on the foot of the bed. There was speculation in the way he looked at them, as though he was estimating their talent.
"And then?" Betty spoke up, a bit tremulously.
"Why, I'm going to turn you loose to enjoy yourselves." His tone was suddenly jovial and he half raised his drink as though in salutation.
"How?" Barbara inquired dryly. The whisky was steadying her.
"How?" he repeated. "Why, living it up, of course. What else is there?"
"That means screwing, doesn't it?"
"Naturally. Or would you like to become a nun?"
"Let's level," Barbara finished her drink and chewed on a piece of ice. "You've got something up your sleeve or you wouldn't be doing this. What is it?"
For answer, he shrugged and got up to take their empty glasses. "Does it matter?" He turned in the doorway to look back at them. "You like to fuck; I like to watch. I've got plans. So let's get on with it." They heard him carry the glasses back to the kitchen. Then he went to the telephone and dialed.
"Do you suppose he's calling Sam and Hank again?" Betty asked wistfully.
"No such luck." Barbara closed her eyes and lay back. Then a thought appeared to strike her and she opened them and sat up. "That number," she murmured.
"What are you talking about?
"The telephone number that Sam wrote on your wrist that evening. Can you remember it?"
"No. But I wrote it down."
"Where is it?" Barbara sounded impatient.
"In my address book," Betty answered. "Where else?"
To her surprise, Barbara leaned closer and kissed her. "Keeping that number could be the greatest thing you ever did." She broke off to listen. "Play it cool. He's coming back."
Harry had mixed himself another drink but he neglected to bring them a refill. Instead, he pulled up a chair and straddled it, resting his arms on the back. "We will now continue with example number two," he informed them.
"What do we have to do?" Betty asked. "Use that son-of-a-bitch dildo again?"
"You take the point." Harry laughed at his own pun. "But you don't have to come unless you want to. From now on, we'll work on positions. Someday, you may thank me."
He rubbed the side of his nose for a minute. "Let's see." He studied them with his head on one side. "You were both pretty good the back way. Let's see how you do up front."
Barbara sighed resignedly and reached for the dildo and the tube of lubricant. She greased the phony cock at both ends and was about to insert it when she saw Harry shaking his head.
"Not that one," he said. He got up and went to another drawer and took out a second dildo. It was larger than the first and had only one head. Also, it had a pair of bulging balls below the base of the thick shaft. "Here." He tossed the contrivance to Betty. "Go into the bathroom. Unscrew that little plug in the back of the nuts and fill it with hot water. Then come back and I'll show you how to put it on."
"The butches use both types," he told Barbara when Betty got off the bed. "There's another one with two heads and a double pair of rubber nuts in the middle. But it's not as popular as the single one." His tone was quite unemotional. They might have been discussing the weather.
"The front method can be used in either the missionary or the side position," he went on as Betty reappeared. He took the dildo from her and felt the balls and the shaft with the back of a hand. "It's okay," he nodded. "It'll get hotter before it starts to cool. Then all you'll have to do is refill it. Hold still."
With deft fingers, he strapped the clumsy contraption onto her, drawing the strap that went between her legs tight so that the rigid shaft stood out from her crotch like a real erection. "There!" He stood back and admired her. "Now you can really chase the broads." A glint of humor shone in his eyes. "I wouldn't walk too fast if I were you," he grinned. "You might fall flat on your face."
He supervised the lubrication of the dildo, then directed Barbara to lie on her side and bend one knee. "Put it into her," he nudged Betty. "Lie facing her and when it's in place, pull her leg over your hip."
The appliance was warm in her pussy. Instinctively, Barbara put a hand down and guided it in, like she would have done with a man. Perhaps because the thick shaft was hollow, it was more pliable and softer than the double-ender. It hurt her just enough to make the entry pleasant. When it was fully inserted, she put her foot across Betty's hip quite naturally, finding that the position exposed her cunt fully and wishing that there was some hair on the thing to tickle her crotch. Then the big warm balls came crowding in and she let her thigh lie flat across Betty to squeeze them and enjoy the soft pressure.
Betty had been a little disappointed when she found that she was to be the active partner in this second performance. The tepid shaft of the dildo had intrigued her and she wanted to find out what it would feel like inside her. Sam and Tommy up her pussy and Harry in her rectum had been hard but their pricks were not as warm as the shaft she was fingering when she returned from the bathroom. The artificial balls pushed back into her crotch when Harry strapped the thing on and the heat of them above her clitoris was enough to make it atand. But that merely aggravated her desire. She wanted the rest of it.
Then she had it in Barbara's pussy. Her sister's reaction had a similar effect on her. The fact that she was giving pleasure as well as experiencing it was something new. Before, when she was being screwed by one of the men, she had concentrated on her own enjoyment and, except for an instinctive waiting for him to come in order to make her own climax more exciting and fucking him back when she felt the nearness of orgasm, she had not concerned herself with the way he felt. When Barbara closed her thighs to press down on the rubber balls, they pushed back into Betty's crotch and by closing her eyes, she could imagine they were real and that her sister was really a man. The impression intrigued her and she jerked her hips and earned an immediate reproof from Harry.
"You're not a monkey fucking a football or a rabbit or something," he snapped at her. "You might as well be jacking her off. Take it long and easy. I'm in no hurry."
The admonition involved backing the bulging nuts out of Barbara's crotch and releasing their pressure in her own.
"You've got the hang of it now," Harry applauded when she backed up, then pushed in again slowly. "Keep that up until you feel her coming. If you can get yours with her, so much the better."
The son-of-a-bitch must have been born in a whorehouse, she thought wryly. He never fucked women, yet he seemed to know all about it, coaching like a phys-ed instructor and undoubtedly getting his kicks, as he admitted, by watching the action. Perhaps he was ready for the funny farm but as long as he had that damned negative, he could call the signals and they'd have to go along. .She thought of various ways of getting the negative back, including murder. If he was out of the way, they would be off the hook. How did you go about killing a guy? She had never even fired a cap gun.
Barbara moved and pressed their tits closer together and Betty sighed and went back to work. Whatever feeling her sister was getting from the warmed shaft plowing her pussy was something she had no way of knowing except through the twitching of Barbara's vagina, especially when the ridges teased her clitoris. That was something else, Betty reflected. She had had enough experience with men's pricks to realize that the head on entering gave the most pleasant sensation when it contacted a woman's clitoris. To her way of thinking, the rest was merely a business of mind; a feeling of fullness, a sense of intimacy and perhaps surrender to the man's drive.
Therefore, it was a pity, she reflected, that only the head of the penis was constructed in such a manner as to engage the clitoris on its way in and out. The friction of the foreskin was pleasant enough, at least in the instance of the only two cocks she had had in her pussy but it took the flaring head, with its back flange, to do a real job. Nature had goofed in not furnishing a man's penis with ridges like a dildo. Then the excitement would be continuous. Of course, the penis compensated for the interrupted stimulation by filling the cunt with warm semen, which of course the dildo could not do. But it was a pity about those ridges. She sighed again and reached over to hold her sister's cool buttocks and pull her nearer.
Barbara surprised herself by her almost calm approach to coming. The dildo with its thumping balls was hot and hard but she could not get it out of her mind that the thing was not a man. She had closed her eyes several times, doing her best to create a live penis by sheer imagination but conviction eluded her. She might as well have been screwing herself with a banana. All the same, the physical part of it was gratifying and Barbara was a physical person. But it would have been nicer to finish with a spouting prick instead of a piece of thrusting rubber.
"Shorten up," Harry ordered harshly. His voice made them jump. They had almost forgotten he was there. "Goddam it, will you never learn? The short strokes make for coming. The long ones are just buildup."
How the hell did the bastard know I was about to finish, Barbara asked herself. Then the mounting compulsion drove everything else out of her mind and she barely had time to push down and suck Betty's tit before fucking the dildo back and reaching a gusty sort of release. Betty strained against her, catching her breath in little short gasps as Barbara's mouth at her breast brought her to climax at the same moment. They uncoupled slowly and rolled over on their backs, the wet dildo standing straight up from Betty's crotch as though waiting for the next customer.
"That's all." Harry sounded impatient. He made Betty get off the bed so that he could undo the straps. Then he handed the thing to her and told her to empty it in the bathroom and rinse it.
He said nothing to Barbara and she relaxed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how many others she might have to look at if he did what she thought he had in mind. A couple of honey-blonde young whores should put plenty in his pocket.
He left the bedroom and Betty showed up with the dripping harness and dropped it on a chair. "Where'd he go?" she inquired. "I want to ask him something."
"like what?" Barbara sounded disinterested.
"like if I make a deal with him, he'll give us the negative. If he-likes, he can draw up a contract. I'll sign it and he can let you go."
Barbara smiled in spite of herself. She got up and put her arms around her sister. "You dumb bunny," she said, "but I love you." She shook her head. "It wouldn't work, even if you were not a minor and your signature worthless. This cat is cool. He'd never agree. Besides, if he did, any judge would nail him for white slavery."
Betty's face fell. She had been ready to go through with it. Now there was nothing. She realized that she had been foolish even to mention it. "There must be something we can do," she almost wailed.
"There is," Barbara agreed. "All we have to do is find it."
Harry returned, carrying his inevitable highball.. He gulped it nervously, then set the glass down on the dresser. "I didn't fix you one," he informed them dryly. "You still have things to do."
"Not that thing again?" Barbara looked at the wet object on the chair. "We know how to use that now. We've learned everything."
"I believe you." He examined them leisurely. "No. Now we're going to have some fun. I'm going to fuck you both in the ass and then throw you out. How does that sound on your harmonium?"
"Just great," Barbara snapped at him. "I'll try and shit all over you." Betty put a hand to her mouth. She had never heard her sister talk like that before.
"Don't try it," Harry answered. He tapped his pocket and grinned. "It's not there now. I put it away because I couldn't stand seeing you being tempted to steal it."
When neither of them answered, he got up and removed his jacket. "Get back on the bed," he ordered. "Put your faces in the pillows and stick your butts in the air. The one I come in gets the brass ring, which includes an ass-full of jizzum."
"I could grab his balls," Betty whispered, when they were kneeling with their heads down. "Then maybe you could hit him with something and knock him out."
"What good would that do?" Barbara muttered practically. "You heard him. He doesn't have the negative on him and we'd never find it."
"Cut out the cackle and get ready." They felt Harry climb on the bed behind them. "I'll try you first." His hand slapped Barbara briskly. "Only don't get jealous when I pull out and stick it into your sister. And no tricks, if you know what's good for you."
Barbara readied herself to take his prick. She hoped that he had lubricated it. A dry cock could tear her ass up. She knew that he was rough but she was not prepared for the way he came ramming into her. She bit her lips, trying not to make a sound and let him know he was hurting her. By the time his crotch hair was tickling her distended rectum, the shooting pain had lessened so that she was able to stand it. It was enjoyable. Her clitoris twitched and rose as he drew back for another stroke.
He screwed her that way for perhaps a minute, making no attempt to reach for her tits or hold onto her thighs, as though the insertion of his prick was the only contact he wanted with her body. Then he pulled out of her with a little plopping noise and turned to Betty.
"I hate him!" Betty exploded. They were upstairs in the bedroom at home. Their mother was out. The fact that they did not have to face her made things a bit easier on both of their consciences. "I'm going to kill him, if it's the last thing I do."
"You're going back with me tomorrow." Betty drew a rubber cap over her blonde curls in readiness for a hot shower. "We're going to take whatever he hands us and like it, until we get out of this mess."
She turned around in the bathroom doorway. "Get out your address book. I want to look up that phone number."
CHAPTER SIX
"This is Bert." Harry did not bother to get up. He waved a hand, then looked at the other man. "This one's Fred." After the introductions, he picked up his highball glass and drained it.
Both men nodded at the twins and Barbara saw the one called Fred widen his eyes at the other and make a circle with his thumb and fingers. She sat in the only vacant chair to keep away from Harry and let Betty take the couch when he made room.
She was telling herself that he had not wasted any time. This had all the earmarks of being for real. If these were not paying customers, she had missed her guess. Neither of them seemed to be overfriendly with their host and she noticed that they were not drinking. She wondered as she took a cigarette out and lit it herself how much he had charged them.
She glanced over at Betty and saw her eyeing Bert with speculation. Evidently her sister had not tumbled yet. Maybe she thought it was another deal like that with Sam and Hank. She had called Sara, at Barbara's suggestion, before they left the house but there was no answer. She wished that she had gone home with Hank that evening and found out where he lived. She wanted to talk to him.
Harry got up and went for a refill. He held his empty glass up and looked inquiringly at Bert and Fred and they shook their heads.
They must both like it cold, Barbara surmised. No whisky hards for them. Plainly, they wanted to keep sober and so enjoy it all the more. She studied them over the hand holding her cigarette and came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. She asked herself if there was any difference between a paid-for fuck and one that just happened because you liked the guy or were curious about his equipment. Bert got out of his chair and went over to sit by Betty while she was trying to find a logical answer.
Fred broke into her speculation by asking if she'd had a nice day. She thought it was an odd remark but anything was better than sitting there and staring at one another. Besides, there was the off chance that he was just trying to be polite.
He drew his chair closer, making no attempt to touch her. She felt interest growing in her to find out what made him tick. His clothes looked expensive. She wondered if he owned the Jag parked at the curb in front of Harry's door. He had a nice voice and was better-looking than his friend.
Trying to keep her hands steady, she lit a new cigarette from the stub of the old one and took a deep breath, enjoying the bite of the smoke as she inhaled it.
"You smoke too much," Fred said quickly. "Don't tell me it's none of my business because it is. You'll ruin your health."
Oh, no, she thought, not one of those pure-living nuts. The last thing she wanted was a sermon. She was about to tell him so when Harry returned from the kitchen. He was carrying a tray with three drinks on it. It followed, she reflected. Quick with the first highball, then nothing. Maybe it was his way of loosening them up.
She was grateful for the interruption, because she was liking this Fred character less and less. To keep Harry happy, she'd have to put up with him, she supposed. But that did not include being his yes-girl. She took a sip of her drink and looked to see how Betty was doing. Her sister and Bert were sitting close together, laughing as though they were old friends. Harry gave them an approving glance and sat down at the other end of the couch.
"I hope I haven't made you mad." It was Fred, sounding apologetic. "You see, I neither smoke nor drink and sometimes-well, I guess I get carried away."
"No vices, eh?" Barbara decided to meet him halfway.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that." He colored a little and seemed to hesitate. "I-I guess I'm just another guy."
He coughed and patted his lips with well-kept fingers. "You see," he said, half defiantly, "tomorrow I begin studying for the ministry and well-" He paused in embarrassment
"Don't tell me." Barbara had trouble in keeping from laughing. Things were becoming a little clearer. "And this is your last fling, your farewell to the world of-what is it?-flesh and the devil? Oh, wonderful!"
"Not a fling, as you call it. I just wanted a few memories to take with, me to the seminary. Nothing serious, you understand. When I ran into Harry and he told me about you and your sister, I thought it would be refreshing to talk to some young people. I haven't had much chance lately and after tomorrow, I won't be seeing girls," he ended, somewhat wistfully.
By now, she had changed her mind. The poor bastard, she was thinking. About to be shut up in some God joint with no pussy or booze. She felt sorry for him, even while she sensed that he must want to do it. "Well, here we are." She tried to make her voice bright and cheer him up a bit. "What did you have in mind?"
"I'd like to talk to you." His manner seemed a little easier, as though he had taken a load off his conscience.
Barbara cut her eyes to Harry. He was studying the rug, with his glass in one hand, not paying attention. "Tell me," she whispered to the prospective priest, "how much did you pay him?"
"Oh-er-not much, really." Now he was embarrassed. "Only a nominal amount, to cover taxi fare and incidental expenses, as he explained."
So the dirty rat was charging for their services, as she had suspected. She'd have bet a pretty that he had nicked this one for fifty. "How about your friend over there?" she asked curiously.
"Oh, he's not my friend," Fred hurried to inform her. "That is, I don't really know him. He came driving up just as I arrived."
So Bert owned the Jaguar. She turned her head to look at him. He and Betty were still talking up a storm.
"What do you want to talk about?" She took a chance at scaring him off by impulsively putting her hand on his and stroking it.
"Oh, nothing in particular. Just-talking." He looked around the room uneasily. "But not here, with everyone listening. Isn't there somewhere we could go-"
"Bedroom's vacant." Harry raised his head and regarded them blandly.
So the dirty bastard had been listening, after all. He didn't miss a trick, that one. "What do you say?" she asked her companion. "I'm afraid there isn't anywhere else."
He folded his hands and unfolded them again and cleared his throat nervously. "I suppose there'll be chairs in there, won't there?" he inquired.
"Of course." And a big wide bed with a drip cover on it too, you poor fish. The thought of the bed roused her. For the first time, she took time out to wonder how he was hung. She could go for him, she reflected. He seemed to have a strong back. Now, if he had anything to drive with it. "We can sit and tell each other all about ourselves, with nobody to bother us." Ducky, she told herself. About as interesting as musical chairs. But it would be a start. "Come on. Let's go." She got up and took his hand.
Betty looked up, smiling happily. Bert had his arm around her. His hand was within an inch of her tits. In another minute, he'll be playing with her nipples. So what the hell? She could take care of herself. They could screw their asses .off on the couch. It was just possible that the bed would be occupied.
Harry gave her the eye, nodding imperceptibly, and Fred followed her down the hall like a lamb. In the bedroom, he considered the plastic sheet for a minute, then pulled the two chairs together and sat down. "Well, this is cozy," he decided. He kept staring at the plastic on the bed as though it fascinated him. "What a good idea," he said, as Barbara sat down beside him. "Keeps the dust off and all that." If by "all that" he meant come and pee and an occasional trace of shit, she figured, he was perfectly correct. She wondered what he would say if she told him.
She had left her purse in the living room and now that she didn't have one, she wanted a cigarette to fiddle with while she reviewed the situation. She thought of kissing him and putting her hand on his leg and decided that might run him off. A glance at his crotch made her a little more hopeful. Whether he knew it or not, he was getting an erection. It was not very hard yet but it was there, pushing down one side of his suit pants and promising to be interesting. She felt the old excitement running through her as she wondered if he was circumcised. A long foreskin, she had found, bunched up behind the head of the penis, made a ridge like on the dildo. Her clitoris twitched as she thought about it.
She made up her mind. "You said you wanted to talk," she mentioned. At once, then, she leaned against him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. "How's that for openers, Reverend?"
"Oh, no. You mustn't-I mean I'm not ordained yet." He wiped his lips with the back of a hand, looking startled.
"Oh, come now." Idly, she let a hand fall on his knee. "It wasn't that bad, was it? How long is it since a girl kissed you like that?" Her hand slid a little higher.
"What? Oh, let me see. Quite some time. I really don't remember." He kept his eyes away from hers but made no move to disengage himself. His cock, she noticed, was growing. Now was the time to set the hook.
"Look." She sat up and took her hand away. "Who's kidding who? You're a guy and I'm a girl. You haven't taken any vows yet, have you?"
"Er-no." He was floundering. "It's just that.. . . "
"It's just that you want to go and your conscience says no. Is that it? Scout's honor, now."
He looked positively miserable. When she reached out to touch him again, he tried to get up but she pushed him back into the chair. "I'll be your new conscience," she whispered. "You can have the other one back tomorrow." Without giving him a chance to say yes or no, she moved her hand. Her exploring fingers found his zipper and opened it. His big white prick came thrusting out and she leaned down quickly and kissed the peeling head.
In the living room, Harry stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "You lovebirds can have it," he' conceded. "I'm going to walk around."
The first thing that struck Betty was the change in him. What could have come over him, she wondered. He admittedly got his kicks out of watching people screw and here he was walking out on them. "Sorry I don't have another bed," he apologized to Bert. He was whistling under his breath when he went out and closed the door.
"That's a break." Bert put his hand inside her dress to play with her firm tits. "I thought he'd never go."
She barely listened. Her brassiere was loose enough for him to find her nipples. As soon as he touched them, she stopped breathing, holding her breath back to get the full savor of the rapturous feeling sweeping through her and making her forget everything else except the desire to have him mount her and take her quickly.
He wasn't much to look at. He needed a little more chin and he could have used more height to advantage. But the erection she put her hand on when he tried to get her tits out of her dress and suck them was the biggest she had yet come across. After all, a man didn't screw with his chin. It was what he had downstairs that counted.
She pushed him away gently and got up to take her clothes off, wondering, how many times she had done that already in this same living room. When she looked around, he was standing in his shorts and she tried to smother a gasp when she saw the enormous penis jutting out of them.
"What's the matter, honey?" he asked, half mockingly. "Don't tell me you haven't seen a horny cock before. I know different. Your boss told me all about you."
"My boss?" She frowned as she dropped her bra on the chair with the rest of her clothing. "What are you talking about?"
"Harry. Who else? He told me you were the best lay in town."
"Why, that-" She bit her tongue. Bitching would not do anything to relieve the quick disappointment.
He seemed to read her mind. "Don't tell me you thought it was love." He was jeering openly now. "You're a pretty chick. You've got what it takes to satisfy me. That's all."
"You paid him, didn't you?" She was steadier now that it was out in the open. She even felt curious, wondering what she was worth.
"Yes, sweetheart, I paid him. He said there would not be any extras, in case you're in the mood to up the price. So let's fuck."
"How much?" she persisted.
He laughed shortly. "Well, he asked for a yard. I gave him fifty until I looked the merchandise over."
She found that she was past bitterness. "I hope you like what you see. Just to keep the score straight, I wouldn't take that thing of yours for a thousand cash. It's too big."
He surprised her by not showing resentment.
"That's what they all say. Next you're going to tell me you'll suck it Right?"
The excitement of anticipation had all drained out of her. She felt listless, uninterested. "I'll try, if you like," she nodded.
"What happened?" He looked her over carefully. "A while ago, you were all for me. Now it's as if I wasn't here."
When she remained silent, he went on. "Well, I paid for you, so I guess I'll just have to help myself. You can forget the gobbling bit. When I was a kid, I used to stand on my head and blow myself. It's no fun now."
"What do you want, then? Let's get it over with."
"I'll tell you. I'm a tit man. I'm going to put my cock between those nice white knockers of yours and give you a warm bath."
"Is that all? For fifty dollars, all you want to do is come in my boobies?" It sounded little enough. She could hardly believe that he was serious.
"Wait until you see. Then maybe you'll catch on. Just lie on your back with a pillow under your shoulders. Let me run the show. Okay?"
The leather of the couch was not as smooth as the plastic bed cover. There was a ridge in the middle that cut into her uncomfortably. Maybe he wouldn't take long. Closing her eyes, she said tonelessly, "Come on."
Barbara was not sure whether she wanted to fuck or just lie there and laugh. It had taken her twenty minutes to get the prospective seminary student's pants off. He had consented to surrender his shirt but he kept his skivvies and undershirt on. And his socks. He was wearing a pair of bright purple garters, the first she had ever seen on a man. The others, when they wore any socks at all, had always preferred the calf-hugging type.
He stood there with his erect prick bulging his shorts, not meeting her eyes, unsure what to do next Still not looking at her, he shivered a little. "You know," he said, after a minute, "this is not what I had in mind. Not at all. It's-well, it's indecent."
"What's indecent about it?" she challenged him. "Did your mother and dad think it was indecent?"
"That was different-"
"How do yon know it was different? You weren't there."
"No, of course. But-well, you see, they were married."
"So what? Did that make it legal?"
"I suppose so." He sounded miserable and glanced over at his trousers, as though reminded to put them back on.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Barbara got off the bed in a hurry. "I've got you this far. It's too late to change your mind"
While she was talking, she put her hand down and found his hard penis. As her fingers closed around it, she wondered what sort of a man it took to keep an erection that long and not do anything about it except argue. She had done it with guys who liked to talk a fuck before screwing but never one who put it down. Gently, she massaged the tense shaft, drawing the foreskin completely over the moist head, then pushing it back until her hand was touching his balls. "Let's go," she whispered in his ear and, on impulse, stuck her tongue into it. When he jerked his head back, she smiled at him encouragingly. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"N-no. It's not that-" He looked over at the door and she left him to go and close it. "There!" she said, when she had set the lock. "Nobody will know now except you and I."
"God will know." She wanted to laugh again because, unconsciously, he was fingering his penis, rubbing it slowly while he looked down at the floor.
"I don't think God will blow the whistle on us just because we're making love," she ventured. What did you do with a guy like this?
He looked up quickly. He was not frowning now. For the first time since they, had begun to talk, he met her cool gaze and did not move his eyes away. "Love?" He appeared to be talking to himself. "Is that what it is? Really?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it hate. Unless you're in the mood to rape me."
"Oh, goodness, no!" He continued to play absently with his penis, as though not realizing what he was doing. Perhaps he jacked off, like Harry, to satisfy his conscience and keep away from women. His prick, she noticed, was if anything getting harder for the handling. "I could never do anything like that." He finally appeared to notice what he was doing and took his hand away quickly.
"Oh, come on!" Barbara was running out of patience. "Let's do it or quit. Do you want to go back to the others?"
She read his hesitation in the way he looked over at his pants, making no move to put them back on. On an impulse, she sat up and got rid of the slip she had used to cover her crotch and titties in order not to stampede him. Then she lay back, waiting. It was high time, she reflected, for nature to take its course.
Slowly, he walked over to the bed but instead of getting on it, he sat on the edge with his back to her. "Do you really believe that people do this because they love each other?" There was an eagerness in his tone, as though it was important for him to know.
"Yes." She was getting cold and the damn plastic under her was no help. "Of course I do." If he thought she was going to lie there and discuss philosophy all evening, he was nuts. And she wanted him. That standing cock was an answer to a girl's prayer. It might be near holy but she'd bet it could make her happy. She reached over to take his hand. She was about to put it on her pussy when she changed her mind and lifted it to cup a breast. When she felt his fingers searching for the nipple, she relaxed.
"I suppose you're right. Young people are so clever at defining things these days." Her nipple was hardening under his groping and she put her hand under his to bunch her tit. Whether it was that or the conviction that it was love which made the world go round was something only he could have told her. In place of enlightening her, he turned around and she imagined he jumped a bit when he saw her white nakedness stretched out, waiting for him. He looked away hurriedly, then turned his head back for another inspection.
When he spoke again, his voice was husky, as though he needed to clear his throat. "Would you believe me if I told you that this is the first time I ever saw a naked woman?"
"Don't worry. You won't go blind," she assured him dryly. "Come on over here. But first, take those shorts off."
He had big balls. They hung low between his thighs when he stood up to get rid of his skivvies. She had another impulse to get off the bed and take them in her hand and play with them. She'd do it, anyway. She had made up her mind to make him take her dog fashion. She wanted every inch of that stiff prick in her and the back way would allow him to get everything inside except his nuts. Then she could reach back between her own thighs and punkin-seed them while he screwed her pussy.
He was slow in getting back onto the bed. He put a knee on it tentatively. She reached up for him with both arms and pulled him down on top of her and nibbled his tit and felt for his prick, all in the same motion. There was something to be said for delaying the action, a corner of her mind registered. It made the final action all the more satisfying. His weight felt good on her belly. She knew she could have come easily, just working on his nipples like that and feeling the hardness of his penis. But she had waited this long. Now she wanted more. She wanted the sensation of that horn plowing her vagina and rubbing her clitoris and the final pleasure when he gave her his jetting semen.
"Would you do something for me?" she released his nipple to inquire demurely.
"Of course. Anything." He was a little breathless from fucking her hand.
At once, she shoved him off her and rolled over on her face. Burying her head in the pillow, she reached back and patted a buttock. "This way," she said muffledly. And then he was in her, purple garters and all.
Betty opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling, then closed them again. In spite of her resentment, Bert's huge horn driving between her pressed-together tits and the solid impact of his balls were doing things to her. She had been resigned to letting him take her that way because there was nothing else she could do. Harry had them cold and this one had bought her, like she was something for sale. Bitterly, she had realized that she was just that, as long as Harry held onto that goddamned negative.
Her hand moved around Bert's hairy thigh to find her clitoris. It was standing when she put a finger on it. The contact, added to the thrill that she was being screwed, if only in the boobies, sent a quick shiver through her. He had told her to leave the fucking to him. By that, she imagined he meant for her to lie still and let him do his thing on her without interruption. However, he had said nothing about getting her own kicks. She eased her finger deeper into her pussy. The hell with him.
She decided that she hated him for treating her as if she was a cheap whore. Her interest, she assured herself, was purely physical, as though she were masturbating as she used to do before Harry's dildo got her cherry. All the same, it was very pleasant. She supposed that the mere contact with a man made everything more real and exciting. She remembered now that jacking herself off had been a lonesome experience. After coming, she had felt empty and nervous.
She put her free hand up to pull at his fingers. He was pressing her tits too hard, hurting them in his haste to create more friction around his plunging shaft. His thing was not only thick, it was long enough almost to touch her throat when he pushed it hard. It made her think of the jackass in the pasture. She wanted to play with his thumping balls but she kept her hand away from them, thinking he might not like it. Her boobies were going to be black and blue, she just knew. His hands were rough with them. The discomfort in some way added to her arousal and she allowed him to squeeze them without protest.
The pressure was holding his foreskin still, so that the shaft of his prick was fucking through it. She had got the same sensation when Sam and Tommy had done a few strokes in her hand. It was better in her tits. They must be more sensitive, she thought. Still cupping them, he put his thumbs on her erect nipples, rubbing them lightly as his hardness slid in and out. The son-of-a-bitch. He must be concerned about her feeling after all, unless teasing her like that added to his own pleasure. More-likely, it was part of his thing. He had seemed interested in her fair white body when he straddled her and shoved her breasts together around his cock. Nothing else appeared to worry him.
He had not said a word since mounting her. He screwed slowly, evidently enjoying every part of it, unwilling to step up the action until absolutely necessary. She did not care, as long as he didn't take all night. The ridge in the couch was more uncomfortable with his crotch bearing down on her like that but the growing excitement was worth it. With her eyes closed, she didn't have to look at him and she tried to believe that her finger was really his big cock in her cunt.
She heard him draw his breath in quickly and she rubbed her clitoris harder, sensing that he was about to come. The bastard would probably shoot off all over her. He had said he was going to give her a bath.
His fingers on her breasts were like iron clamps. Now his strokes were mere jerks of his hips. His balls pounded against her chest in a kind of fury and he began to breathe through his mouth. She listened to him gasping as though he couldn't get enough air. He called out something just before he began to come. The first warm drops sprayed her mouth and chin.
"There now!" Barbara rolled onto her back and put her knees down. It was getting dark in the bedroom. She could barely see her partner sitting back on his heels, squeezing the last drops of semen out of his cock and regarding it with astonishment. "That wasn't hard to take, was it?"
It had been a wonderful fuck, worth all the argument and persuasion. Once he was in her pussy, he screwed like an old hand at it. He seemed to know just where the sensitive areas were, lingering over her clitoris long enough to make her vagina throb, thrusting deep into her and staying tight up against her womb to splash his semen on it. He must have been saving it up. Maybe he really was a cock virgin. She had come twice while he was still squirting. Now she felt satisfied. A good fuck always relaxed her.
She was about to get up and go to the bathroom when she heard his voice. "God is love," the potential prelate intoned. "His will be done."
She ran into the bathroom and closed the door so that he would not hear her laughing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"You know what that makes us, don't you?"
It was Saturday again. The twins were sitting in their usual drugstore, sipping Cokes after doing some shopping for their mother. Barbara pushed her emptied glass away. "That would do me more good if it had some liquor in it." She patted her lips lightly with the napkin so as not to smear her lip-stick. She balled the napkin and dropped it in the glass, then inquired, "What makes who what?"
"This business of running over to Harry's apartment every evening." Betty frowned across the table at her. "We're nothing but a couple of call girls, whether we like it or not. Mother is beginning to get suspicious. Yesterday she asked me what we were doing. The boyfriend story has worn too thin."
"We'll think of something. Did you call Sam?"
"Yes. While you were buying the crochet thread. He didn't answer."
"Maybe he's out of town or working. Did Harry give you any money last night."
"No. Are you kidding."
"I made him pay me."
"Oh, Barb! You shouldn't have. That-that only makes it worse." Betty's voice rose in a little wail.
"Money never made anything any worse," Barbara mentioned practically.
"Oh, but it does. Can't you see? Now you're a whore, just as sure as you're sitting there."
"I don't care." Her sister became defiant. "I told him I wasn't going to go on my back for nothing, picture or no picture. I haven't spent it," she added, as though that justified what she had done. "I told him I was going to add it to my 'Hate Harry Bleeker' fund."
"What are you talking about?"
Barbara found a cigarette and snapped her lighter. "Insurance," she answered cryptically. "I mean it."
They paid for their Cokes and went out to the street.
"What time do we have to be there this evening?" Betty asked sullenly. "Is there such a thing as a call girls' union?"
"If there is, I never heard of it." Barbara saw the school principal and his wife approaching and quickly got rid of her cigarette.
"Well, well!" The principal stopped while his wife beamed at them and went on to look in a store window. "What are you girls doing with this wonderful summer? Working, perhaps?"
Barbara was about to answer for both of them when, of all people, Harry turned the corner, talking animatedly with Sam. They appeared to be arguing about something as they came up the block.
Harry bowed and Sam nodded but they did not stop.
"Let me see." The principal glanced after them and stroked his chin. "I seem to know the tall one. Artist or something, isn't he?"
Barbara bit her lip. Damn the luck. Only for him, she'd have stopped Sam and asked him for Hank's address and to hell with what Harry might think. "I really don't know," she said offhandedly. "We met them one night at a party."
The principal nodded and went on to join his wife.
"They must have made up," Betty said, when they were alone again. "Remember last time? Sam told Harry to go and foo-foo himself."
"Well," Barbara tried to sound philosophical, "at least, we know Sam's around. Let's try and call him tonight. He's got to be at home sometime."
Harry had warned them to be at his apartment early in the afternoon. "I've got a special all fixed up. You'll enjoy it," he informed Barbara. Betty had been in the bathroom, getting rid of Bert's joy juice, as he called it.
"I hope he hasn't propositioned another tit guy," Betty said as they started to walk home. "I can't think of anything more disgusting than to have some goon blow his nuts all over one's face."
"Depends on the guy. I've met a few who I wouldn't have minded coming in my ear."
They made it to Harry's place on time. Barbara paid off the taxi. "Remind me to put that on the expense account," she muttered to Betty. "And speaking of expenses, make him come across before we leave."
"I can't, sis." Betty shook her head quickly. "Even if he offered me money, I wouldn't take it."
"More fool you," her sister retorted. "We're in this thing. We might as well collect something for our trouble."
"No." Betty held her chin out. "He can make me lie down for whoever he brings along but he can't make a prostitute out of me."
"Hoity-toity. Get off your high horse."
They knocked and Harry let them in. His greeting lacked enthusiasm. He was drinking his invariable highball but he did not offer them a drink.
"What happened, pimp?" Barbara needled him. She didn't care what she said to him. He might cuss her out but that was all. He needed them too much to come back with any muscle. "Lost your address book or something?"
He appeared to be only half listening. He took a gulp of whisky, then set his glass down and said, "They aren't coming."
"You don't say. Who's they?"
"A couple of guys from out of town, nice joes, out for a good time. We'd have had a ball."
"You mean you would have. In any case, show or not, they paid you, didn't they?"
He drank again and shook his head. "Not these types. They're big time. They pay later. They want to see what they're getting before making with the green."
"That let's us off the hook, then. Come on, Betty. Let's go home."
He put a hand up. "Hold it. I've been doing some thinking. You both still need some coaching."
"Oh, no!" Betty protested. "Not the dildo again."
"No. This time we'll see if we can't make it live."
He left them wondering what he meant and went over to the phone. He had a knack of cupping the receiver against his mouth, so they could not hear much of the conversation. He talked for several minutes before hanging up. He looked happier when he came back.
"They'll be over right away," he said.
"We're not mind readers," Betty pointed out. "Who are you talking about?"
"A guy and his wife. They're going to give you a few pointers."
"You don't say. You mean they'll do their thing right in front of our eyeballs?" Her tone had been cold. Now it was incredulous.
"Why not? Of course, they expect to get paid for it."
"It might be cheaper if you got a couple of girls already broken in. This is going to cut into your profit."
He grinned for the first time since they had arrived. "I'll stay with what I've got. And don't break your heart about the expense. I'll make that up later."
He emptied his glass and chewed a piece of ice reflectively. He stopped crunching after a while and got up to go into the kitchen. "No booze for you broads today," he said, over a shoulder.
"Why?" Barbara could have used a stiff drink. She hated this place.
He turned in the kitchen doorway. "You don't need one. You won't be screwing today."
"What's that got to do with it?"
Harry lost his temper. Perhaps it was her insistence that riled him. "You dumb bitch!" he snapped. "Why do you think I fed you liquor before? For love, maybe?"
When she kept silent, he went on in his gravelly tone. "It was the only way I could get pills down you. Hasn't it ever struck you as strange that, after all the cock you've had, neither of you are pregnant? How stupid can you get?"
Not as stupid as you think, buster. Barbara had found some contraceptive pills in a drawer of her mother's dresser. The box was marked, so she could not be mistaken. She had insisted on Betty taking one with her each time they had been exposed. She had an idea that her mother intended her to find the pills, rather than embarrass both of them by a lecture. In spite of her tolerant attitude, her mother knew the score. Barbara suspected her of having a lover or several and heartily approved, now their father was gone. To save "explaining, she told Betty that she bought them.
"There they are now." Harry got up to answer the door and ushered in a couple who looked to be in their middle twenties. They nodded to the twins and settled themselves on the couch. Harry did not introduce them. He addressed them as Molly and Pat and mixed them a drink apiece, making Barbara's mouth water.
"Here's to sin." He raised his own glass. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"
"We talked it over. From the information you gave us over the telephone, we weren't sure what experience the girls have had-" Molly stopped as Barbara broke in.
"Neither of us are virgins, if that's what you mean."
Harry gave her a dirty look, as though telling her to keep out of it. Betty was sizing the husband up. He was the physical type, tall and muscular and reasonably good-looking. Molly, if that was her real name, was petite, with a good figure and rather tremendous breasts. Bert, big penis and all, could have lost himself between them.
"Then we don't have to worry," Molly said. "I think it's only fair to mention that having sex in front of third parties does not embarrass us." She smiled at both of them. "We are nudists and we have belonged to the same swingers' club for years. So try and feel comfortable. Maybe you'll learn something."
They finished their drinks and asked where the bedroom was. Harry led the way along the hall, carrying an extra chair.
"It's kind of gloomy," the husband decided. "Maybe we'd better have some more light." He pushed the switch inside the door and the overhead fixture lifted the shadows off the bed.
"We don't need this." Molly pointed to the plastic quilt and Harry bundled it up and tossed it into a corner. After a final look around, she nodded to her husband and he came over and kissed her tenderly. "The first kiss is important," she told the twins, when he released her. "It can be either French or simple, depending on the partners. If French, sometimes it's a good idea for the girl to put her hand down and stroke the man's penis lightly. like this."
She turned back to her husband. He put his arms around her and she slipped a hand down to his crotch. His penis was getting hard and her fingers found it and rubbed it up and down gently. Both girls stared as it grew under her hand.
They kissed again and when they had finished, the wife reached up and darted her tongue into her husband's ear. His hand found her breasts and he fondled them and teased the enlarging nipples.
"Undressing should come only when both parties are aroused," Molly explained. She might have been teaching a class in mathematics. Her tone was impersonal, even a little dry. "In most cases, the man should undress the girl." She made a motion with her hand and he stepped behind her and unzipped her dress, drawing it off her shoulders in the same motion. He bent down to kiss her neck and shoulders, then unhooked her brassiere and let it fall to expose her big breasts. He took both of them in his hands, reaching under her arms, while he pressed his crotch against her buttocks so that she could feel his erection.
"Getting the clothes off the girl is a part of foreplay," Molly turned her head to mention. "The man should not undress until she is naked. Then he should do it quickly and get back to her while she is still excited."
To illustrate her point, she finished undressing herself while her husband, without any prompting, got rid of his shirt and trousers and underwear and turned around at once, kicking off his loafers to fit his hard prick between her thighs, stooping a little because, until he bent his knees, the head was touching her navel.
At once she commenced to nibble his nipples, placing the tip of her tongue on each one before taking it between her lips. Slowly, as though working by the numbers, he began to dry-fuck her. If the twins had not been absorbed in the lesson, it might have seemed laughable. He had his hands down around her buttocks, trying to lift her up to meet his stroking and she was standing on tiptoe to reach him.
When they stepped apart, his penis was so rigid that it was standing up against his belly. Molly pointed to it. "He's ready now and so is the girl. The next step is the bed."
She whispered something and he nodded. "We'll start off with a position called the 'walk-in.' You'll see why in a minute."
Betty nudged Barbara as the wife stretched out across the bed with her small behind on the very edge of the mattress. Lying on her back, she raised one leg with the knee stiff and he took it and set her heel against his shoulder. He still had to stoop to fit his cock in her cunt. When the head disappeared, he reached underneath her and raised her buttocks so that he could stand up straight. Then he proceeded to fuck her in slow motion.
"Did you see that?" Betty breathed. "He just strolled into her."
Molly moved her leg and slewed around until she was sitting on the side of the bed. Her husband relaxed alongside of her, with an affectionate arm around her shoulders.
"That was just to demonstrate," she said. "Neither the man nor the girl can stand much of that. Both come quickly." She put a hand out and caressed his still-tense penis. "Isn't it a beauty?" She pushed the foreskin back and lifted it between her fingers. "And it can stay hard for hours."
She was still as calm and collected as when they started their act. Her voice was quite unemotional. Barbara wondered how she could maintain her detachment. Her own clitoris was as hard as the husband's cock and she noticed that Betty was squirming in her chair.
"The man-on-top posture is usually known as the 'missionary position,' " Molly expounded. "It is called that because many men of the cloth used it, covering themselves with a sheet or keeping their clothes on, in the belief that a naked body was indecent. I don't think there's any need to demonstrate it. And we can skip the 'horse' one. School kids know both of them these days. Then there's the one where the husband lies on his back and the wife sits on his penis, facing either front or back. I don't recommend either. The man is hampered for movement and climax is a lonesome business. Isn't it, honey?" She released his erection and leaned closer to kiss him.
Harry had been taking it all in, sitting backward in his chair with his chin on his arms. "You're doing fine." he told Molly. "Don't stop now.'
She smiled at him and Barbara automatically checked to see if he had an erection. If he had, it didn't show and she looked back at Molly, trying to determine whether it was interest in what she was saying or the practical demonstration which accompanied the lecture that was making her feel so hot. She wanted that horny prick in her so badly that she could almost taste it.
"The missionary and the back-entry positions seem to be the most common. But there are many variations of both." She and her husband went on to illustrate the side approach, in which they faced each other on the bed and she put her leg over his hip. From where Betty was sitting, she could see his prick bury itself right up to his balls and move in and out of Molly's pussy before they uncoupled. After that, they gave a brief exhibition of the woman-on-top position. Betty did not care for that because she liked to feel the man's weight Barbara, being more aggressive, made a mental note to remember the thrill she got while watching the woman do the fucking. The husband, limited to movement only when she lifted her cunt, looked as though he was being raped.
Another odd thing about the demonstration, in addition to the man being able to maintain what looked like a permanent erection, was the matter-of-fact way in which it was conducted. Molly might have been giving a television lesson in cooking, with her husband serving as her assistant. They screwed one another in half a dozen more positions which she explained were more modifications of the two main ones. Apparently, neither of them came. The husband's erection remained the same; if anything, a bit harder.
Another of the positions that Barbara liked was the one where the woman lay on her back with the man on his knees, facing her. When they were ready, she lifted both legs and placed her feet against his shoulders. This action exposed her pussy to the man's penis and she controlled the action by bending and straightening her knees. "Kicking herself off," Betty labeled that posture.
"Incidentally," Molly mentioned, breathing a little faster, faster from the exertion but otherwise quite calm, "if I forgot to mention it, that side lay, where I put my thigh over Pat's hip, is especially adapted to short-and-tall couples like we are. There's no strain and the shorter one can reach the partner's nipples and suck them without interruption. In our case, Pat-likes me to stimulate him that way during the whole time we are screwing and his enjoyment adds to mine. It's something to remember."
Harry had left the bedroom while she was speaking. Now he came back with three highballs on a tray. "You've earned a drink," he said. "Take a break and drink hearty."
"What about them?" Molly indicated the girls with her chin. "Or are they too young?"
"They don't need one." He dismissed the matter offhandedly, as though they were of minor importance. His interest appeared to be in what they were learning, not in how they felt. Damn son-of-a-bitch, Barbara raged inwardly. They'll think he owns us or that we're poor relatives or something. The maddening part was that she could do nothing about it. She wouldn't have cared, except that she had taken a liking to Molly and hated to be put down in front of her. Out of a corner of her mouth, she whispered to Betty. "What do you think of it?"
"It's groovy," her sister whispered back. "Only some of it's boring. I like the regular positions best"
When Molly finished her drink and said she needed a chair, Barbara stood up and offered hers.
"The chair way is sometimes used by fat couples who are not comfortable in a bed. A cushion on the seat helps." She motioned to her husband to sit down, first handing him a pillow from the bed. Then she turned her back to him and sat in his lap, slowly, so that with her assistance, he was able to guide his prick into her vagina. As soon as they were coupled, she rested her hands on his knees and moved up and down, spreading her thighs and leaning forward.
"You see?" she said, as she stood up again. "The penetration is complete. If the man has a big belly, the woman leans further forward. That one is a favorite when the girl is pregnant. She can adjust her posture to suit herself. And there is no way for her to get hurt"
The sight of that unbelievable erection plowing balls deep between Molly's spread thighs was almost too much for Barbara. With difficulty, she restrained herself from making an excuse and going into the bathroom to masturbate. She lost track after that, staring at what was going on and not seeing very much of it. Christ, you had to be made of iron to stand all that without any relief.
Betty favored the position where the girl lay flat on her face, with the man straddling her, giving her all his weight while he screwed her.
"That way should not be attempted unless the man has a long penis. It's known as a 'reverse-missionary' and preachers are said to like it because the wife cannot see them doing it. It is also popular among homosexuals." Barbara listened with half an ear. She was wishing that the "big time" guys had shown. Then she would have enjoyed having a fuck instead of watching One.
Now they were demonstrating what Molly called the "stand-up version of the walk-in." In her keyed-up condition, Barbara found that she wanted to giggle because it rooked a little as though they were dancing. They faced each other. Molly put her arms around her husband's neck, holding him loosely. With one hand, he hooked the back of her knee and raised it until it was touching his hip, using the other hand to steer his length into her vagina. When he had entered her, she hugged him closer and again the twins saw a slow-motion exhibition of screwing.
"The partners can please themselves how they go about it after they are in position. like the original one we started with, the man's penis goes all the way in and is therefore less-likely to slip out if the girl-likes to work with him. There is plenty of room for movement and if the man holds her leg firmly, she shouldn't get tired of standing on one foot. Some couples we've met like to make this action mutual. Others prefer it when the girl stands still and allows the man to take her that way." Molly finished explaining and tapped her husband's shoulder. He released her knee and pulled away from her, freeing his penis while she circled his waist with an arm and smiled up at him fondly.
It was incredible, Barbara reflected. They were clearly in love with each other, yet they did not mind demonstrating the physical side of their affection in public. And Molly had admitted that they were swingers. She had heard about husbands and wives who liked to change sex partners but had always figured them for some kind of kooks who had lost their marbles. She could understand a husband cheating if he kept it under wraps and even a wife, if they were tired of each other and found a more exciting partner. But for a couple to go together to a club and separate there to screw with strangers was something she could not understand, unless they had both flipped. Yet here were these two, suited in every way and apparently quite normal, who tomorrow might swing with as much enjoyment as if they had taken in a show or gone out to dinner. Incredible was the only word for it.
Betty had been fascinated by the way the husband's balls swung in his wife's crotch. Her raised thigh gave a full view of the base of the buried erection, which the hanging testicles appeared to drive still deeper. like her sister, Betty experienced wonder that such a fond pair could bring themselves to perform sexually before an audience. She thought briefly about the swinging bit but gave it up because by this time she was on the edge of coming.
Nevertheless, the wonder asserted itself enough through her excitement to ask the question why such a well-matched pair should seek other indulgence when between them, they apparently had everything, including mutual respect. How many pussies had that prick been into? And how many other erections had plowed Molly's cunt? If she had a man like that, she thought a bit fiercely, she'd stay with him and to hell with anyone else. Then she forgot it all as she watched the husband uncouple. His dark crotch hair moved back from her blonde muff and when his cock came out, it was wet and shiny in the light. The hardest fight Betty had had all day was to keep her finger away from her clitoris.
". . . other things besides actual screwing." Molly, still hugging her husband's waist, was lecturing again. "There is good old sixty-nine, then we have the single action, in which the girl, in plain language, sucks the man off and vice versa. Homosexuals, who probably don't interest you, like to jack each other off, often together, using their hands and kissing while they do it. I only mention that because we have found men who are heterosexual and still like the girl to give them a hand job, being afraid of disease or an inconvenient pregnancy or just because they get their kicks out of watching themselves come."
She moved away from her husband and sat on the edge of the bed. "In a little while, we'll show you our favorite position, which I have only been able to enjoy with Pat. But before I quit harping on external stimulation like mouth or hand masturbation or 'pussy-eating,' I want to stress their importance, sometimes all of them, in foreplay, which is simply the action necessary to arouse the partners before actual coupling, as we showed you earlier. To my way of thinking, and Pat agrees with me, foreplay is as much a part of the act as penetration, which is the extension of arousal. Without the required amount of tonguing and kissing and sucking and nibbling, the end is usually disappointing, especially to the girl; something else to remember.
MSo that's par for the course. If you've learned something, we're happy for you. If I'd had someone when I was your age to show me the ropes, I would have enjoyed sex a lot more." She stopped the look at Harry. The ice had melted in his glass and it was still half full, as though he had forgotten it "Do we get another drink," she asked, "if we show you the way we like best?"
"Of course." He sounded as though he needed to clear his throat He still showed no sign of an erection. For that alone, Barbara decided, he had to be creepy.
Molly got up from the bed and walked over to her husband to put both hands on his shoulders. First, though, she tested his hardness by pushing his erection down, then releasing it
When it sprang back, she gave a little nod of satisfaction and kissed him lingeringly. Then she looked at her audience and said, "Watch closely."
At once, she jumped high and put her legs around her husband's waist, where her arm had been a few minutes before. She crossed her ankles behind his back, then pressed with her knees to push away from him while he put an arm under her buttocks and lined the head of his penis with her cunt. He entered her quickly, then wrapped the other arm around her upper body, crushing her outsize tits against the hair on his chest, holding her close against him while he fed the cock to her in quick, jerking thrusts.
Now his balls hung free, swinging in time to the stepped-up cadence. Each time he pulled back, they slammed into his crotch with a little slapping sound. Mechanically, Barbara counted the times he drove his prick home. Nine. Ten. At the eleventh entry, he swung her a little higher and lowered his head to find her nipple. Sucking it hard, he screwed faster and faster, then straightened his back and grunted once. He must have come then. Molly gave a little cry and moved her hands off his shoulders to take his face and kiss him rapturously.
They posed like that for a full minute. At last, she uncrossed her feet and he let her down easily. Betty, quite sure that she had gone out of her mind, tried to see his cock again when he took it out, but he turned and went into the bathroom. Molly took a deep breath and stopped panting.
"That was 'the jump-up,' " she explained. "It takes a strong man with a hard penis, as you saw." Her eyes found Harry then and she said, "Now, about that drink."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Barbara slept badly. She had been dreaming about that hard penis she had watched during yesterday's demonstration. Several times in her dream she had tried to get her hand on it, but it had eluded her. Now, lying awake, she found that she had her finger on her clitoris and she was sure she had come several times during the night.
She looked over at Betty, sleeping in the twin bed alongside her. Her sister was smiling, as though she might have captured that incredible cock where Barbara had failed. She opened her eyes and put her hands up to rub her face. "You know what I was doing?" she murmured, still only half awake.
"Fucking, of course," Barbara guessed. "What else?"
"Oh, yes! It was so great I can't tell you."
"Molly's husband?"
"No. Tommy. I dreamed we were out at the lake again. You remember when we sort of wandered away and got lost in those trees?" Barbara nodded and she went on. "I know now that the football team was hiding there but that came later. Tommy went down on me after we screwed. I came three times before he quit. It was the greatest, believe me. That's what I was dreaming about."
Later, after their mother had gone out, they sat in the living room and had a council of war.
Barbara dug in the pocket of her robe and produced a slip of paper. "Here." She passed the paper to Betty. "Put that in your address book. It's Hank's pad. Sam didn't know his phone number. He thought it was unlisted. But at least we know now where he lives."
"You called Sam?"
"I walked down to the corner and used the pay phone after you'd gone to bed. He said to tell you hello."
"Damn." Betty chewed at a fingernail. "I wish you had let me call him. I've got a thing about Sam. He was the first guy to really screw me."
"I thought your hero was Tommy," Barbara teased.
"Well, that's different. Tommy's-well, we seem to understand each other, if you get what I mean."
"How come you didn't make another date with him?"
"I was going to but that damn bunch of guys sneaking up on us like that screwed everything up. But I have his phone number. The only thing-" she broke off and a wistful look replaced the smile.
"Go on," Barbara prompted.
"Oh, what's the use?" Her sister looked as though she was about to break down into tears. "That bastard Harry has spoiled everything. I can't c-call Tommy when I have to lie down for any guy Harry brings along. Don't you understand?" There were tears in her eyes now.
"Yes. Take it easy. We're going to do something about that right now."
"What can we do? I've thought of everything."
"We're going to get dressed and call on Hank."
"Now?"
"Now. If he isn't in, we'll leave a note for him to call." Betty got up briskly. "Get your clothes on. This just might work."
"What if he calls and Mother answers?" Betty hesitated.
"We'll tell her he's your new boyfriend. Hurry."
Harry put the tray down on the coffee table. He was the genial host again as he handed the twins a drink apiece. "Bottoms up," he said tritely, taking a swallow of his own highball. "Here's to fucking, the glorious adventure."
Barbara looked at the glass in her hand reflectively. "I guess this means you've fixed things so we screw again. How much were our fair white bodies worth this time?"
"Plenty. And I'm going to split the take with you."
"How interesting," she needled him before taking a sip. "Selling ourselves for half price."
"Does this have a pill in it?" Betty inquired.
"Yes, it has a pill in it," he retorted, mimicking her. "Why else would I waste good whisky?"
"I can't taste it." She sampled her drink gingerly.
"Get it down. You're going to need it."
"Who did you dig up for us this time?" Barbara broke in. "A couple of visiting VPs or a brace of rich mobsters, maybe?"
Harry laughed and reached for his drink. "This is going to tear you up," he chuckled. "A father-and-son combo. Doesn't that grab you?"
"I don't get it."
"You will. Dad's hot to trot and he wants his kid to learn about the birds and the bees from some nice girl who won't get knocked up or give him what the old boy referred to as a social disease. Jesus, J thought that went out with high button shoes."
"I'm laughing myself sick. How old is the kid?"
"Old enough, apparently. I didn't see him. His father's around forty."
"Ugh!" Barbara made a face. "Some old billy goat who'll want his tassel sucked or his nuts twiddled. Why can't you pick someone younger?"
"Because," he countered, obviously trying to be patient, "the young jack-offs don't have enough bread, while the older ones are usually loaded. It's as simple as that."
"I suppose he's fat and flabby and shakes when he walks around," she predicted gloomily, looking pessimistic. . Harry chuckled again. "Wait until you see him." He stopped laughing to drain his glass and rattled the ice as he set it down. His face hardened as he looked up. "Stop bitching, will you?" She knew that he was reminding them who was running things. "You should worry. After yesterday, you should be able to handle them all. Molly and Pat showed you just about everything."
He got up and headed for the kitchen when a knock came at the door. Still carrying his empty glass, he went to answer it.
"Oh, no!" Barbara whispered, as he stood aside to let his visitors troop past him. She stared, then smothered a laugh. Betty, in the chair next to her, widened her eyes as she looked at them.
The large one, evidently the father, must have weighed three hundred pounds. He was enormous. His belly quivered as he walked across the rug and plumped himself down on the couch. It creaked under his bulk as he patted the space beside him. "Come and sit down, son," he said to the gangly youth who was following him. "Nobody's going to bite you."
The son looked to be sixteen or seventeen, around their own age. He was thin and suffered from incipient acne, of which he seemed to be conscious, because as soon as he was seated, he put a hand up to finger a pimple. He kept his eyes away from both girls.
My God, Barbara's mind groaned, what a hand to draw to.
"I want a drink," the father bleated.
"Coming up." Harry, hovering in the kitchen doorway, winked at the twins and disappeared.
For the first time, the obese one appeared to notice the girls. "What's your name?" he leered at Barbara.
"Daisy Mae," she told him easily. Indicating her sister, she said, "This is Petunia." Harry might be able to make her fuck but he couldn't compel her to socialize.
"How delightful. A little old-fashioned but fresh and beautiful, like the flowers themselves. I love flowers."
"How original." Barbara was about to say something cutting when Harry bustled in with the drinks.
"I didn't know about Cecil-is that his name?" he said to the father as he handed him his highball. "I imagine he's a bit young to indulge, isn't he? A Coke, perhaps."
"Oh, give him a drink, too," the fat man rumbled. "Do him good. Put hair on his chest" He laughed wheezily at his little joke as Harry went back to the kitchen.
After guzzling a good half of his drink, he let a hairy hand fall on his son's knee. "How about it, boy?" he inquired. "Do you like them?"
Cecil cut his eyes at the twins, then dropped them and spoke for the first time. He took the drink from Harry without saying thank you and tried a sip of it and grimaced. "I guess so." His voice was so low that they barely heard him. He sipped again and the whisky seemed to taste better.
"Come on," his father urged. "Buck up. Say something to the girls. Which one do you like best? Take your choice."
Barbara felt sorry for the kid, because that was all he was. His old man was putting him on the spot, the blubbery bastard. She glanced at Betty, then got up. "Come over here, Cecil." She gave him a friendly smile and pointed to her empty chair. "Sit with Bet-Petunia while I talk to your dad." Without waiting to see if he took her up, she went over to the couch. "I've told you our names," she reminded the porky man. "What's yours?"
"Ah, yes, I forgot. I'm Quincy Adams Smith." When she looked at him doubtfully, he took a billfold out of a hip pocket and produced a card. That was his name, believe it or not "Quincy Adams Smith. Flowers for All Occasions. Wedding Bouquets. Wreaths for Funerals." She returned the card, getting a glimpse, of a thin-lipped woman's picture as he put it back in his wallet. Cecil's mother, probably. She looked as though she had been drinking vinegar. No wonder the stupid idiot liked flowers. He was a florist. And if that was his wife, it was a wonder that he bothered to go home. She sat down, as far away from him as the couch permitted. "What do you know?" she murmured because she couldn't think of anything else to say.
Bringing his drink, he nudged his grossness closer and his heavy paw found her knee as it had Cecil's awhile before. "I like you," he told her. He lifted his glass and tilted his head back to let the last of his drink drain down his throat. She did not see him swallowing and wondered if he just poured it into that capacious gut.
"You're a pretty girl, Daisy," he mouthed at her when he had finished. "How about you and me cutting up a bit? It looks as though Petunia over there is taking care of my boy." He tried to put a ponderous arm around tier but she dodged it by bending over to straighten her hose. She hadn't noticed Cecil taking her chair. The whisky seemed to have cured his shyness. He was chattering animatedly with Betty. I'm stuck with the fat slob, she told herself dismally. Well, she reflected, better me than her. This one would need watching. He could trip and kill you. How did you go about screwing an elephant?
Harry caught her eye and pointed with his chin in the direction of the bedroom. He rubbed his finger and thumb together as though counting money and nodded suggestively. The son-of-a-bitch. All he had to do was sit there and get stoned while the loot rolled in. She took a deep breath and stood up. Best get it over with. "Come on, Quincy Adams." She reached for his hand and led him along the hall.
"You know what?" Cecil stuttered a bit as he leaned closer to Betty and looked at her owl-ishly. "I've never been in a place like this before." He peered around the living room as though there was something special about it.
"It's just an apartment," Betty answered. Then she understood what he meant. "Oh, it's not-"
"It's a whorehouse." His voice squeaked a bit when he said "whorehouse" and he seemed to have trouble with his hands. "Dad told me."
"Your father made a mistake," she replied quickly, refusing to admit even to herself that he was right. "This is Harry's pad. We're friends of his."
"What's the difference?" He sounded as though he half drunk. "You-you screw, don't you? Both of you?"
She glanced at the chair in which Harry had been sitting. To her surprise, it was empty. He must have gone out while they were talking. Vaguely, because she didn't know whether she wanted to be left alone with this suddenly brash drip, she heard him speaking again.
"My dad thinks I'm a dum-dum." His voice was a low monotone, as though he was talking to himself. "He thinks I'm still a kid. Well, I'm not. He brought me here to get laid. He doesn't think I know the score." He was obviously trying to reassure himself. It was so evident, even ludicrous, that Betty in spite of her misgivings wanted to giggle. The firm approach, she decided, was the only way to deal with this one. For all his bragging, he was just a brat. "Get your clothes off," she ordered.
"What?" His voice went up an octave and stayed there.
"You heard me."
"But-"
"Oh, cut it out." She tried to sound severe. "You're such a tiger with the women. Let's see how you tick."
"But I-" He gulped and looked over at the door.
"No, you can't get out." By now, she knew Harry's technique. "It's locked. Now come on." Without giving him a chance to answer, she reached over and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Wait!" He caught her fingers and the contact seemed to calm his near panic. He held onto her hand for a minute, then released it and undid the last two buttons himself. "You won't laugh at me, will you? Promise?"
"I promise. What is there to laugh at, Cecil?" She felt like asking him if he had three testicles or a pimple on his penis.
"I-I've never undressed in front of a woman." He swallowed again. "Not even my mom."
"I thought you knew your way around with the girls." She could not resist needling him.
He looked down at his feet. "That was just talk," he said miserably.
She liked him better now that he was leveling. His glass was still half full but he made no move to drink again. She got the impression that he desperately wanted her to like him. Just a lonely kid, as she had surmised. "Look,"-he told him. "I'll coach you." He wasn't bad-looking, except for the pimples and that was just kid stuff, too. "Get going. There's nothing to be ashamed of. We can use the couch. No one will bother us."
To hurry him up, she unfastened his belt and opened his zipper. She was tempted to put her hand inside and do a little exploring but changed her mind when she noticed his red face. She remembered that she hadn't seen anybody blush like that in a long time.
His penis was starting to make a bulge in his slacks, she noticed and a glow ran through her. She had never had a kid fuck her. Barbara had told her once that teenage boys came like horses, more than most grown men. She thrilled as she wondered what it would feel like. Would he be better than Sam or Tommy? She caught her breath at the idea. He would be clumsy, naturally, but she wouldn't mind that if he kept good and hard.
Slowly, not looking at her now, he got up and peeled his slacks off and took his time folding them and hanging them over the back of his chair. He kicked off his loafers and removed his socks. Then, a little defiantly, he got rid of his undershirt and shorts.
"Well, hello," she said, when he was quite naked. She was careful not to smile. "I knew you could do it, Cecil. Come here and let me feel." When he moved closer, she put a hand on his penis and moved the foreskin back. The pink head emerged like a rabbit's nose as she slid her fingers down the shaft. He was only half hard but she could feel it growing in her hand. She glanced down at his balls. They were still low in his crotch. There was no danger of him coming before she was ready. She stroked his cock for a little while until it was standing up. Regretfully, because the urgent newness of it was exciting her, she took her hand away and began to undress.
"It's no good," Barbara declared a little breathlessly. "We can't do it that way. We'll have to try the chair." She brought her leg back over Quincy Adams' vast hips and sat on the side of the bed, wishing that she had another drink. Her cigarettes and lighter, as usual, were in the living room.
Her obese partner grunted and sat up. "Don't get upset, now, my dear," he mumbled. "It's not your fault."
How obvious could you get? She couldn't help it if his big belly pushed her back when she tried to sit on his cock. When he had tried to take her horse fashion, his gut got in the way again, so that he could barely get his horn between her buttocks. In desperation, because she wanted to be screwed, she had stretched out across the bed and raised a leg so he could do a "walk-in." That hadn't worked, either. There was just too much bulge and not enough prick. He had gone soft on her and all the rubbing and teasing she could do failed to get his penis up again. She had to lick the head and squeeze it between her tits in order to make him hard. She didn't want to suck him off. It would be too much like licking a bag of lard. The chair might be the answer, if it didn't break under them. Molly had stressed that position for stout people.
"Get up," she directed him. "Go over there and sit in the chair. Not that one. The straight one under the window."
When he padded over and lowered himself with another grunt, she felt his prick to see if it was still hard enough. Satisfied, she sat on his knees and turned around to straddle his hips. She had to lean back to find his erection and work the head between the lips of her cunt. She managed to get it in at last and took her hand away, catching her breath as about half of it slipped into her vagina, sending shudders through her as it rubbed against her clitoris. "Stay still," she warned him tensely. "Let me do the work. You don't have to do anything."
He sat there like a fat Buddha while she put her feet on the rug and moved her buttocks up and down, feeling as she told Betty later "like a monkey fucking a football," trying to get the whole length of him into her and failing because of his jutting stomach. However, it was better than nothing at all. The head was nearer to her clitoris than if he had been fully inside and by measuring her strokes, she contrived to get as much friction there as when she was being screwed properly. It was exciting enough to satisfy her, although she missed the thump of balls in her crotch and the punishing prick stretching her pussy right back to her womb. And he was too small. She liked to feel her cunt straining around a stiff horn until it hurt. Now there was no pain; only the grinding action, with her clitoris catching against the head when it came back.
She was afraid to do that too often for fear that his prick would slip out. Finally, she settled for short strokes, raising up a mere inch or two before pushing down. That way, the top of the head stayed near the sensitive area and when she did it quickly, she felt an almost constant stimulation-enough to make her come if he stayed hard.
She realized that she was not going to make it when he caught her arms and began to breath harder. Ignoring her advice, he started to screw with her, meeting her hard when she bore down, then relaxing on the chair seat when she raised off him, until she was afraid she would lose what little she had of him, just when things were getting interesting. She tried to think of something to help her come quickly, pinching her thighs until they smarted, remembering the whipping and Hank's great prick thrusting into her until it seemed to be breaking her cunt wide open; that fuck to end all fucks, she told herself. Still screwing cautiously, she found her nipples and played with them, reveling in their hardness under her fingers and the waves of pure delight surging through her.
But it was a losing race. Sensing that she was going to be left behind, she screwed faster but, save for the wonderful sensation, it did not help. In desperation, she bit her lips until they were sore and cupped her breasts in both hands and rubbed them together to make them hurt. Just when she had hopes of being able to come, he made a sound like a goat having its throat cut and she felt the first gush of semen spray her clitoris and drip out into her crotch. Frustrated and mad at him, she stood up quickly and let him finish his fuck in the air.
"I'm very sorry." She wished he'd stop his goddamned apologizing. He had been doing it ever since he came out of the bathroom. She scarcely listened as he waddled over to sit on the edge of the bed beside her.
"I want to make up for what I did. Do you believe in-er-frenching?"
It took a little while for her to realize that he was referring to a blow job; either that or eating pussy. Why, the old bastard. If his tongue was as short as his prick, there wouldn't be much fun in having him go down on her. But the more she thought about it, the more it intrigued her.
He owed her something for coming before she did. Whether he knew it or not, the only way to get the full flavor was to finish together. Otherwise, it was about as satisfying as jacking off. A girl might be excused for getting her jollies a couple of times during the action but once the guy had blown his nuts, he was usually finished, at least for the time being. If he came too soon, he left the girl stranded, with her nerves screaming.
"What are you talking about?" she asked him.
He cleared his throat and his stomach quivered like a mountain of Jello. "It's-well, some people don't think it's right but I don't mind. I'll be glad to do it to you if that will help."
So she was right. He wanted to carol up the canal. Bless his fat soul, anyway. He was a bit of a dear, after all. "Come on," she said. "What are you waiting for?"
In the living room, Betty was having a hard time convincing Cecil that he was not ready. As soon as they got onto the couch, he seemed to forget his inhibitions. All he wanted to do was climb on top of her. His penis was hard but not hard enough. She could still bend it in the middle when she stroked it. It needed a little tongue work. She took his head between her hands and guided his flushed face down to her breasts. She had to rub his lips with a nipple before he caught on. Then he began to suck like a calf nuzzling its mother. It felt so good that she knew she wouldn't be able to stand it for long. She rolled away from him, then came back to bend down and take the head of his prick in her mouth. He pulled away when he felt her tongue probing the eye but she caught his balls and popped them lightly until he quieted down. Then she began to suck him again.
She found that he liked her to play with his balls, so she kept on kneading them gently while she ran her tongue up and down his stiffening penis and slid it round and under his head. Every time she licked the underside, starting just in front of his ball sack and coming slowly up to the division of the head, his cock jumped, sharpening her own desire.
She kept it up for a couple of minutes more, then raised her head and went to work on his nipples, first pinching them until they stood up, then nibbling at them, with an occasional soft bite. She put her hand where her mouth had been and stroked his prick, holding it in her warm hand and squeezing it up and down until it got as hard as a stick. For good measure, she kissed him and sucked his tongue and darted the tip of her own into both of his floppy ears. She bit his neck twice before sitting up to inspect him.
When his prick bounced back after she pressed it down, she pronounced him ready. She thought briefly that if his penis got any harder, it might explode. It was a beauty, just thick enough and not too long. Betty didn't favor long cocks like her sister did. They went in too far and hurt. Now that it was fully erect, the foreskin had peeled back, making a ruff behind the head. She could imagine what that ridge would do to her clitoris. Barbara had mentioned how a bunched foreskin felt. She had compared it to the thrill she got when a rubber on a guy who was screwing ruptured and creased up behind his cock-head. "First you think it's going to scrape your inside out," her sister told her. "Then it mashes the clitoris and you feel like something wants to fly out of your butt and can't."
She bent down to kiss his young hardness before stretching out on her back. "Come on, Cecil." She wanted to encourage him more in case he had any lingering doubts but there was no need. He was on top of her like the tiger she had teased him about, knocking the breath out of her with a careless elbow in the pit of her stomach before his weight came down on her belly and his hand fumbled with his hard cock, trying to find her pussy.
"Wait a minute." She pushed him up far enough to arch her back and shove a cushion under it. She relaxed then, opening her thighs wider and reaching down between them to help him enter her.
He thrust into her cunt like a young stallion, jerking his hips to drive his prick all the way inside. She heaved a sigh of contentment and closed her eyes when she felt his testicles crowd into the fork of her thighs. It had been worth all the trouble. He was fucking her furiously, as though afraid that something might stop him before he could finish. His hardness, driving in and out like an accelerating piston, kept an enduring pressure on her clitoris. She sighed again as she lifted her legs to wrap them around him.
Without prompting, he reached back with both hands and caught her ankles, pushing them forward and out until she could feel her rectum straining. Now she had all of his cock. His balls were slapping the wet area below her cunt, battering her like little hammers every time he thrust in. She came almost at once, chewing her lips because the sensation in her clitoris was driving her up the wall. It had to end soon or she'd bite a piece out of him or grab those slamming balls before she went totally ape.
She opened her eyes to see where the noise was coming from and heard him singing. At least, it sounded like singing until she listened harder. Then she found that he was repeating one word over and over. It turned into a chant and she had a flashback to the last time she went to church. He sounded like the priest. "Mother . . . Mother . . . Mother . . . Mother!" Maybe he had laid his old lady when his father wasn't looking.
The ecstatic feeling drove everything else out of her mind. They weren't there, really. Only the pleasure was for real; the cloying exultation that turned her out of herself into a medium of utter physical perception.
Afterward, she had no clear memory of when they came, except that they finished together. Barbara came back with Cecil's father, barely giving them time to get some of their clothes on. Betty slipped her dress over her head and went to the bathroom to clean. The kid had squirted like a fire hose. She felt wet all over. There was as much semen in her pussy hair as in her wet cunt. Neither Sam nor Tommy had come that much. Perhaps he wasn't a jack-off like most guys his age and had been saving it up.
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she ran the water into the basin. It had been a good fuck. It couldn't have been better if she had been screwed by Barb's whole football team.
CHAPTER NINE
When Barbara awoke the next morning, Betty was sitting up in bed with the covers pulled around her shoulders. She barely returned Barbara's smile, then rested her chin on her knees and stared moodily in front of her.
"Bad night?" Barbara inquired.
"Yes. I kept thinking about the party."
Before they left Harry's apartment, he had handed Barbara some money and told her to split it with Betty. "Get over here bright and early tomorrow evening," he directed. "It's my birthday. We're going to celebrate." He had not mentioned who else would be there.
"He seems to have us down for some kind of exhibition," Betty said, after a little silence. "At least, that's what he hinted at."
"With Harry, you can never tell. All I know is that the stinker has got us where it hurts and we'd better keep him happy."
"Can't you see it? 'The Delsey Sisters, the two best lays in town, will now give a demon stration of how it's done.' " Betty's tone was bitter. "like a pair of trained seals. I wish I could get my hands on that negative."
"You can't. He's too clever to leave it around." Barbara got up and put her robe on, then went over to sit on the foot of her sister's bed. "Calm down, Sis. You're all upset. It won't be that bad."
"It's all right for you to talk. You-you don't seem to mind. You take his d-damned money." Betty's lower lip was trembling. "I-I wish I was dead!" She began to cry.
Barbara moved closer and put an arm around her sister's shoulders. "There now," she soothed. "Cry if you have to but it won't change anything. I talked to Hank last night"
Betty looked up quickly. There was a tear on the end of her nose and she dabbed at it with a corner of the sheet. "W-what did he have to say?"
"Nothing much. You know how he was when we went over to see him. Doesn't talk much. But he hinted he might be able to tell us something soon."
"Oh, golly! Do you think-"
"He didn't go into details. But I feel better for calling him."
"Maybe he's planning to steal the negative. Oh, Barb! If only he could. I'd do anything for him; anything at all."
"We'll see. Don't get too hopeful. And about liking the setup, let's face it. We both like sex and at the time, even with Harry cracking his whip, it's good and exciting. I hate the mess we're in perhaps more than you do. But you get so damned righteous, like last night when you threw the money on the floor. What have you got against cash? We earn it."
"That's not the point. I won't touch that kind of money. I'd starve first."
"What difference does it make? Money's money."
"Not that kind. When you get paid for screwing, you're a whore, like I said the other day."
"Aren't most women?" Barbara got off the bed and went over to look out of the window. "We all fuck for something or other," she said over a shoulder. "Whether it's money or food and shelter or a new fur coat or what we like to call security."
"Not me." Betty was wide-eyed again. "I'm going to get away from it somehow. Then Harry can take a jump."
"Let me know when you decide how. In the meantime, we've got an all-night party to think about. Help me to figure a nice lie to tell Mother."
They sat in the drug store for a full half hour before the taxi came and when they got to Harry's place, the party was in full blast.
"Listen to that groovy drummer," Barbara said. "They must have the hi-fi turned up." Already her eyes were bright with excitement.
Harry answered their knock and bowed when he saw who it was. "My shock troops!" He sounded a little drunk. "Come right in."
"Happy birthday, you bastard." Barbara pushed past him and Betty stepped around him distastefully as he closed the door. The living room was full of people. Harry had got some extra chairs and there was a portable bar against the wall next to the record player.
Someone put a drink in Barbara's hand and to her surprise, she saw it was Hank. Right away then, she spied Sam sitting next to a pretty brunette and holding her hand. "Where's your whip?" she whispered.
"Aw, come on," Hank protested. "Be nice now."
"You didn't tell me you were invited," she accused him. "I thought you and Harry were pouting."
"This is different. It's Harry's birthday."
"So that makes it okay?" Without waiting for an answer, she asked him if he had anything to tell her.
"Plenty." He rubbed his bald head and looked mysterious. He was about to say more when Sam, with his girl friend in tow, joined them.
"Hi, Barbara. This is Doris. Still making the scene, I see." Doris beamed and reached up to tweak Hank's ear. She seemed a bit high. They left to. go and talk to Betty, who was standing by herself, biting a fingernail and looking unhappy. Barbara noticed that she brightened when Sam spoke to her. She smiled as he made the introduction and sat down with Doris while he went to the bar. Barbara felt relieved. She had been worrying, wondering if her sister could take it much longer. Betty was too sensitive. She let things hurt her that should have been shrugged off.
"Did Sam and Harry kiss and make up?" she wondered aloud. Then she wondered to herself why she had bothered to ask. Harry and Sam could have a duel with machine guns at forty paces for all she cared.
"Who's talking about me?" Harry inquired. She turned her head and found him standing at her elbow. "Hello, hello. How's everybody?" He looked Barbara over and grinned. "Ready for another knouting, pussycat?" Some of his drink spilled on the rug when he raised his glass to them.
"You're drunk," Hank told him. "Go away."
Harry pretended to scowl. "That's a hell of a way to speak to your host. Just for that, I'll ignore you." He winked at them and wandered off. He answered the door again presently and another couple came in. The girl was young; her escort had a dark Latin face and was at least ten years older. They were strangers to Barbara.
"Tony and Helen," Hank grunted.
"What is he? A baby farmer?"
"Tony's a good friend. Don't knock him." He leaned closer. "I've had him working on your thing," he confided. "I'll tell you more after I've talked to him." He took her empty glass and headed for the bar and she had a chance to look around.
Sam and his girl had left Betty. She was talking to the girl who had come with Tony. He wasn't around. Bathroom, Barbara figured. He showed up after a minute and she thought he nodded to Hank. Pat and Molly, the swinging husband and wife, were sitting on the couch. She wondered if they were going to do their thing again. The thought made her try to guess what she and Betty were supposed to do. Knowing Harry, she was sure he didn't mean for them to stand around and make like the furniture. He must have something up his sleeve. She suspected that his appearing stoned was mostly an act. He was too smart.
People kept arriving. Harry greeted another couple who looked so mismatched that Barbara found herself staring at them. The man looked like Bull Montana, whom she had once seen in an old movie. He was broader and heavier than Hank. His broken nose spelled box fighter, as did a thickened ear. He was so ugly that he fascinated her. His partner, on the other hand, was a short blonde type who did not reach up to his shoulder. She kept hugging one of his thick arms, as though she was afraid someone might steal him. Hank, carrying a couple of drinks, stopped long enough to nod to them.
"Magilla Gorilla, isn't it?" Barbara queried. "That's cozy. Who's he going to strangle first?"
"That's Benny Ames." Hank handed her a highball. "He's a male nurse. Used to be a wrestler."
"Don't tell me. I hope I never get sick." She turned to watch them sitting down. "However did Harry happen to invite a pair like that?"
"He didn't," Hank answered. "I told him I'd like him to show in case I needed him. Didn't you see Harry giving them the eye? He's not sure but he's not up to throwing Benny out. Benny'd eat him."
Barbara wished that somebody would tell her what was going on. The way things were shaping, she wasn't sure if it was Harry's party or Hank's. The door opened again and Betty sat up straight as Tommy Dillon, looking happy and healthy, came walking in. He barely nodded to Harry and made straight for the chair where Betty was sitting. Barbara saw them look at each other without saying anything for a full minute. Then Tommy found another chair and pulled it up to sit down and take Betty's hand. They were both talking at once when Harry walked over to the hi-fi and turned it down. He made an imaginary bull horn with one hand and said, "Hear this!"
He took a swallow of his drink, waiting until he had everybody's attention. His voice when he began to speak was clear enough. I was right, Barbara thought. He's as sober as a Baptist on Sunday morning.
"I hope you're all having a good time. We're a bit too crowded to dance, so to avoid boring you, I have arranged with two very gifted people to entertain us with what to them comes naturally. Let's have a hand for Pat and Molly."
Heads turned to where he was pointing and Pat stood up, bringing his wife with him. They bowed and there was a ripple of applause. Harry called for volunteers to help him move the couch to the middle of the room. Hank and Sam went to give him a hand. They pushed the chairs back against the walls after Harry asked everyone to get up and gather around. "I should have got a spotlight." He put his glass down while he straightened a corner of the rug. "Can everybody see?"
Barbara looked around for Molly and her husband, telling herself that she had guessed right again. They were going to put on their act She couldn't see them among the others. The low-pockets blonde who had come with Benny pushed in alongside of her. "What are they going to do?" she twittered. "What do they need the couch for?"
"I think they're acrobats," Betty informed her. "You know. Jump up and down."
"Oh." The short girl sounded disappointed. "I've seen that."
"Not this-you haven't, sister. If you don't come in your drawers before it's over, I probably will," Barbara commented as she took Hank's thick arm and they worked their way over to stand with Sam and Doris. Betty and Tommy had disappeared.
Harry went to look along the hall. He turned around and said, "Here they are."
The fact that both were naked did nothing to Barbara because she had expected it. What did impress her was Molly's complete lack of embarrassment. Maybe if you took your clothes off often, enough, you got that way. She took no notice of the "ahs" and "ohs" that greeted their appearance. With all her detachment, she was quite gracious, smiling at everyone as Pat led her over to the couch.
Barbara looked quickly to see if his penis was hard and saw it already starting to stand. She had never heard of a man who could get an erection at will but evidently this one could-and stay that way, as she had discovered earlier.
Neither said anything. Apparently, they were going to work in pantomime. like someone on television, Barbara reflected, only they'd get arrested if they tried that. Molly pointed to her husband's rising penis and at once leaned forward to take it in her mouth. A sort of collective sigh ran through the audience as they craned forward to get a closer view. Pat had remained standing and the stiffening prick slipping in between Molly's distended lips was visible from both sides. Does my pussy look like that, Barbara asked herself, when there's a big cock in it? More gasps and murmurings ran through the onlookers. Then the room became suddenly quiet. Someone had turned the music off. Only some quickened breathing and the little sounds of Molly's sucking mouth accompanied this opening act.
In less than a minute, she released him and looked around, smiling again with understandable pride. Her husband's wet penis now stood up against his belly as though it worked on a spring. She stroked it lightly and leaned forward again to hold it between her generous boobies. The head shone as it swelled even harder. Someone said, "Jesus!"
Still holding his erection, Molly lay back against an arm of the couch to give him room to stretch out on his back. Then, almost savagely, she straddled him and parted her thighs to receive his stiff length all the way. Blonde hair and dark mingled as she pressed his balls into her crotch.
"Reverse missionary," Barbara murmured. "What did you say?" Hank did not look at her. His eyes were glued to the couch.
"Forget it." She had watched all this before.
Now she wanted to do something more than just look. "Let's split." She squeezed his arm. She leaned near to whisper, "I don't think anyone's using the bed."
Hank brought his eyes around reluctantly. "You mean now?" He looked back quickly at the pair on the couch.
When she nodded, he said, "Sure. But can't we watch a bit longer? They're just getting to the interesting part."
"Let them go. I'm in the mood. Don't you want to take advantage of me? If you like, you can bring that whip." She couldn't tell him that she wanted him to beat her and make her hurt all over. He wouldn't understand. He'd think she'd blown her mind.
He put his chin on his shoulder as she drew him away. Nobody, including Harry, noticed them leave. Betty passed them in the hall, leading Tommy by the hand. They must have just finished having a quickie. The thought sent anticipatory shivers through her. She wanted to screw so badly that she could taste it.
In the bedroom, she locked the door and began to undress, dropping her clothes onto a chair, careless of how her dress might look when she put it on again. Already, in her mind she could see Hank's big prick and feel it stretching her cunt as it entered her. "Hurry." She reached over impatiently to pull his zipper down before unhooking her brassiere. "Get 'em off, daddy-o. Take me while I'm hot to trot." Then she bit her lip, wondering if she sounded like a chippy.
Hank's penis was standing when he stepped out of his shorts. This time he put them on a chair with the rest of his clothes, instead of kicking them out of the way like the first time. He stood there, fingering his hardness and looking at her.
"Stop thinking about those two swingers back there!" she threw at him. "Concentrate on me." Barbara turned her back and climbed onto the bed, wincing at the contact with the cold plastic. She lay flat, then got up quickly and dragged the offending sheet off and threw it on the floor. "I never did like that damned thing." She did not add that it reminded her of being forced to screw whoever Harry produced. Molly hadn't dug it, either. She had asked him to get rid of it before starting her demonstration. The bed had a completely different feel to it without the plastic cover; a warm, intimate feeling, yet firm enough not to give too much under Hank's bulk.
When he stretched out beside her, his erection stood straight up, as though he had a stick in his crotch.
"Um-m-m! Nice peepee!" She wrapped her fingers around the rigid shaft to massage it slowly. "Where'd you get it? Off a burro?"
"Let's fuck," Hank said.
"Shame on you. That Molly woman made you dirty minded." She wasn't about to let herself be hurried. This one was for free-of her own choosing. A little teasing would make it last longer. "How long is it since you've been sucked off?" She kissed his ear and breathed in it.
"Since last time." Hank put his hand out to feel her pussy.
"You mean when we did it?" She cut her eyes at him because she was bending over to nibble his nipple. "How faithful of you."
"Aw, it wasn't that." His exploring finger found her clitoris and she caught her breath and gave a little jump. "The broads say I'm too large. They claim I choke them and make them throw up."
"Do that again." She put a hand on his and guided it to where the probing finger felt best. "I don't think you're too big," she purred, remembering how his towering cock-had made her lips ache and heightened her pleasure. And he had come like turning on a faucet; good, warm man juice which ran out of her and made her crotch into a river. "Hold still. Take your hand away for a minute. Then play with me some more."
He looked a bit doubtful as she wriggled down and felt for his hardness again. When she started to lick the head, he slid a finger under her chin and raised it. "Don't make me come that way," he begged, so earnestly that she felt like laughing. "I want to do it in your box; the first time, anyway."
"Poor baby." She stopped long enough to make a face at him. "You don't mind if I have a little taste, do you? Such a pretty prick. It's a shame to waste it."
He mumbled something about it not being a candy bar and she went back to work. When she was ready, she let his horn push in between her stretched lips. Recollecting what Molly had advised, she tightened them behind the head, holding it while she teased the eye with little rapid flicks of her tongue. He grunted and moved and she knew he liked it. Such treatment, Molly had implied, would "put a hard on a dead man." His finger slipped into her pussy and his knuckle began to drive her crazy. Every time it brushed against her clitoris, she ached to come.
His balls were bunching in their sack. She moved them between her fingers, pushing them up against the root of his penis and letting them drop back of their own weight. When the shaft crowding her mouth began to throb and jerk, she let it go and straightened to kiss him and bite his ear. With an arm around his neck, she rubbed her nose under his chin and whispered, "Ready?"
"I've been ready ever since I got in bed," he grumbled. "How-"
"Let's do it the way we did after you beat me." She bit his chin, then kissed him again, cutting him off.
"Horse fashion? Yeah, I like it that way."
The bed swayed as he got onto his knees. She rolled over onto her face, allowing him to slide an arm under her and pull her buttocks up.
"Do it hard." The pillow muffled her voice. "Stick it into me fast." She could hardly wait for the pain to begin.
His prick seemed even bigger this time. As though understanding what she wanted, he fitted the head into the crack of her cunt, opening it wide and shoved it up in a single, long thrust. The pain of his entry stabbed through her like hot knives. She had to chew her lips to keep from crying out. The next thrust was easier, dispelling the brief numbness as his fingers dug into her thighs and kept her hard against him. He fucked slowly, giving her the full length of his taut prick at each stroke, holding it into her for a couple of breaths before pulling back. When he moved his hands to her boobies, he hurt her again and she backed onto the hard shaft.
Something disturbed her. She raised her head to listen. Someone was banging on the bedroom door. Hank muttered and kept still. When the knocking was repeated, he pulled out and got off the bed. "Don't answer." Frustration surged through her. She had been floating on a pink cloud and now some idiot was spoiling everything.
Hank was dancing on one foot, pulling his pants on while he growled something about the joint maybe being on fire. He slid the bolt back and opened the door a crack. Then he turned his head. "It's Harry."
"Tell him we're busy. Shut that door and come back here."
"He wants in." When she looked her annoyance without answering, he shrugged and said, "Aw, come on. It's the guy's birthday. He's seen us do it before." He stood aside and Harry, glass in hand, pushed the door the rest of the way open.
"Well!" He stopped in the doorway to grin at Barbara, who was sitting in the middle of the bed, scowling at him. "Sneaking one behind my back, as I live and breathe. Have you no shame?"
"Go and sit down, if you're staying," Hank rumbled. None of his old diffidence showed in his tone. Through her feeling of outrage, Barbara wondered. "Do us a favor. Shut your trap."
"Nasty man," Harry reproved. "I won't charge you this time. I'll just eyeball you and think rude thoughts." He carried his drink over to the chair by the bedroom window.
"Please to continue, as the French say." He eyed Hank's drooping prick and added, "That is, if you can."
"Don't pay any attention to him." Barbara reached to take Hank's hand and pull him over to the bed. "Get up here and put it in my boobies. There! Make like it's my pussy and you'll be hard again before you know it. Damn him, anyway." She ignored Harry completely.
Hank's prick rose between her warm tits while she was trying to bite his nipples. When he took it away, it was so proud that the eye opened. He skinned the foreskin back further and stroked it a couple of times. Then he lifted her back onto her knees.
She looked over a shoulder as he re-entered her. Harry had pulled his chair up to see better. She noted the bulge in his crotch and marveled that he hadn't taken his cock out to play with it, as he usually did when he was third party at a screwing. "What's the matter?" she taunted. "Can't you get it up? Or don't you jack off on your birthday?"
Hank resumed his unhurried fucking and the sense of frustration left her as his hardness stretched her cunt. But it wasn't the same. Harry had ruined it for her. The bastard would come busting in just when they were off to a good start.
She buried her face in the pillow and concentrated on coming. Hank must have had the same idea. He hurried the action, abandoning his leisurely stroking, until the bed was shaking under them, driving his stiffness into her in quick, shortening strokes. He grunted under his breath every time he drew back a few inches to push in again. His balls were cool in the fork of her thighs.
She fought an impulse to move with him, compelling herself to kneel there quietly and allow him to take her, feeling for his testicles and finding them with a quick sigh of satisfaction. When he caught her shoulders and began to fuck her harder and faster, she pushed back, wanting every inch of that rigid horn, hating him a little every time it retreated.
He came then and she threw a hand back to find his thigh, as though to hold him into her. The warm semen felt as if it was flooding her whole body and she closed her eyes, forgetting everything as the pink cloud came back and carried her off to nowhere.
Harry left when Barbara went to the bathroom. He seemed to have something on his mind and closed the door absently behind him.
"He didn't say anything," she remarked when she came out.
"He talks too much, anyway." Hank, half dressed, was hunting his other sock.
She put her clothes on and stood in front of the mirror to fix her face. Then she took his hand. "Come on, stud horse. I'll let you buy me a drink."
A little ahead of her because the hall was narrow, he stopped so suddenly at the end of it that she ran into him and bumped her nose. "What happened?" She caught his arm to regain her balance.
"Take a look." He moved so that she could see past him.
She edged forward far enough to look into the living room.
"Screwing like minks!" Hank muttered, as though he still couldn't believe it.
She stood there staring, half shocked, plagued by a desire to giggle.
Pat and Molly, fully dressed, were sitting on chairs, conversing calmly. Harry was leaning on the bar with his nose in his glass. She could hear Betty and Tommy talking in the kitchen.
Sam and Doris appeared to have monopolized the couch. He was taking his time, fucking her slowly the back way.
Benny, the ex-wrestler, had removed his pants and was spread out in another chair. His wispy girl friend, whom he had addressed as Lila, was sitting in his capacious lap, facing him and jumping up and down.
"I seen Benny's dong when he was taking a piss," Hank whispered. "By rights, he ought to bust that antsy chick wide open."
For want of a better place, Tony and Helen had chosen the rug. She had a couch cushion under her bare bottom and his slacks had worked down around his ankles. They must have just begun. He was screwing her languidly, as though they had all night to enjoy it.
"I've been to a lot of parties," Hank muttered, "but this is the fuckingest one I was ever at."
Nobody took any notice of them and they kept still, taking in the scene. Harry found a chair and motioned to Barbara to sit down. He seemed reluctant to make any noise, although she was sure he could have fired a gun and none of the busy couples would have heard it.
"Lila got her jollies." He indicated the jiggling blonde.-"Benny ain't come yet."
Molly caught Barbara's eye and smiled and nodded. She was as cool as if she was watching television in her own living room. Evidently being surrounded by fornicating couples was not a new experience. So much for swingers, Barbara reflected. They must get calluses on their psyches.
Apparently, Harry had not noticed them yet. He was patently interested in the youngster lying under Tony. She could not be much more than fifteen, Barbara had guessed earlier, as though two years difference in their ages was an eon. But already she knew how to fuck. She followed his timing carefully, holding him loosely around the waist with her legs crossed, giving him plenty of room to "put his back into it," as Hank observed in a undertone. Her bare thighs and buttocks looked all the fairer against her partner's swarthy skin. Each time he arched up, they could see his brown balls pounding her crotch and the shaft of his brown penis forcing her pussy open, turning the pink lips back on themselves, covering them as he bore down into her again.
"Reckon they're having a race?" Hank pointed with his chin to Sam and Doris doing their thing on the couch, oblivious to any one else except themselves. "Good old Sam," he applauded softly. "Just look at him pour the peter to that dame of his. He's got me beat a mile."
"Not really." Barbara appeared to consider. "In the first place, he isn't hung like a horse, silly. You are."
They were so absorbed in watching the action that they scarcely noticed Betty and Tommy come out of the kitchen and walk past them along the hall.
The sawed-off blonde was screwing Benny's cock again. She had both arms around his bull neck and was jerking her hips industriously.
"That Lila." Hank watched her for a minute, then shook his head. "It's all she's good for. A fucking machine. I tell Benny to dump her but he won't listen. I tell him she don't have any class."
Barbara ran a critical eye over the un-likely male nurse. He seemed quite happy. A foolish sort of grin curved his wide mouth almost around to his ears, like a clown's. He was staring fixedly at the ceiling.
"He's going to get his gun," Hank predicted.
Benny suddenly erupted into vigorous action. The vacant smile fled as he cupped the blonde's bare bottom in his big paws and stood up, lifting her with him. The chair toppled backward as he held her away from him to drive his prick in and out of her cunt as though he was raping her. After four or five furious strokes, he pulled her against him and came. When he finished, he dropped her like a bundle of laundry and looked around for his pants.
"A jump up," Barbara whispered. "That takes muscle."
"It takes guts, too." Hank's tone held admiration. "I'd be frightened I'd break my prick off."
Sam and Doris came to the end of their coupling at about the same time. They zipped and buttoned up and sat side by side, holding hands, as though that was what they had been doing all evening.
That left Tony and his pretty moppet still grinding away. They were breathing hard, coming to the short strokes but after Benny's spectacular finish, anything approaching straight screwing smacked of anticlimax.
"Come on." Hank took Barbara's hand and stepped over the lovers on the rug. "I'll buy you that drink now."
The bedroom door was locked again. Betty and Tommy were sitting up in the rumpled bed with their arms around each other. They had just finished what she knew was the most wonderful fuck of her life. Now she would have to spoil everything by telling him about Harry.
He had been gentle yet demanding, in a way that excited her more than when they did it at the lake. As before, there was no discomfort when he eased his heavy penis into her. Once more, as she lay quite still, only shuddering a trifle at the delightful sensation as his hardness entered her cunt, she told herself that she was half alive when he was not with her. She had strained up to kiss him as his cool testicles came to nestle between her thighs.
The head of his hard prick engaged her clitoris at just the right angle to send a shivery feeling all through her and bring goose bumps which went away as they settled down to screw steadily. Again, she experienced the sense of fulfillment, the sureness that they were natural partners and that nothing, not even the ugliness of Harry, could alter that. They had made love for the first time that night too hurriedly, so glad to see each other that they had both reached orgasm almost immediately. Now it was perfect. The first flush of excitement had changed to a deeper appreciation, a feeling of trust, which inspired the certainty that there was no hurry.
Remembering in time how she had interrupted their coupling when he first took her, losing him in her anxiety to help, she put her legs up to circle his waist, keeping her hips still, moving only her thighs and knees to pull him close each time his straining erection came plunging back.
"I love you, Tommy Dillon!" She heard herself say it as she nuzzled his neck and took the lobe of his ear between her teeth to nibble it, making small, gratified murmurings as the pleasure swelled into a surging wave of ecstasy, flooding everything out of her mind except his presence in her and his warm weight crushing her nakedness into the bed.
Barbara had once said that a man smelled different when he was screwing. No amount of cologne, she insisted, could eliminate the increased masculine odor, the purely physical scent of his maleness. That was how Tommy smelled now; a musky, intriguing fragrance which captivated her and compelled her irresistibly toward climax. His probing cock seemed to caress her at each new thrust It was heavenly; so wonderful that she did not want to open her eyes and remember that she was in Harry's bedroom and that he was waiting out there, like something evil, to drive her onto her back again for any man who had the price.
She wouldn't do it. Now that Tommy was back, it was unthinkable. Rather than go back to that degradation, she'd do away with herself.
He was fucking her in quick time, as though following the beat of some music she couldn't hear. His heavy breathing fluttered her hair, hot on her cheek as he put his face down against hers. She moved her circling legs and put her feet on the swaying bed, opening her thighs as wide as she could to receive all of his urgent prick. She wished he could push it up to her heart.
When they came, it seemed unimportant after the glorious thrill of being screwed. His stiff cock opening her cunt had been so delicious that she had wanted nothing more than to lie there and enjoy it with all her body and all her mind. Then, when his semen jetted into her in quick, warm squirts, she came all over again and the world went away and she heard the music at laat.
"You should have told me," Tommy kept on repeating. They were sitting close together, hugging their knees, with the sheets covering their nakedness. Betty had just made herself describe Harry's hold over them. "That's why I never called." She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I was too ashamed."
"I'll kill him!" Tommy hit the bed with his clenched fist. "I'll take him apart right this minute."
"Wait." She put a hand on his shoulder and kissed him lingeringly. "Barb and I thought of that. We were going to pay someone to beat him up. She was saving the money. We told Hank-you met him tonight-and he said it wouldn't work. He knew Harry too well. He'd have put the negative in a safe place, like his bank. Then, if anyone jumped him, he'd swear that he had lost it. So that seemed to take care of that." Her voice shook as she finished and she hid her face against him. "Now you know. I suppose I'm as much to blame as he is, because I-I enjoyed some of it."
"We'll get out of this crummy town. I'll go to your mother and tell her we want to get married."
"I love you for that." She rubbed her face against his arm, so relieved when he did not appear to think less of her that she could hear that lovely music quite clearly. Then her quick happiness faded and she shook her head. "It's no good. I'd be in the clear but Barb would still be hooked. He'd make it all the worse for her if I stepped out. Don't you see?"
"She can come, too." Tommy got off the bed and put his pants on. He talked quickly as he paced up and down. "She can keep house for us. I've got money-"
"You're sweet. But she'd never leave Mother alone."
"Bring her along. Why not?"
She got up and went to him. "I'll marry you," she said, "if-if you want me after what I told you." She touched his hand pleadingly. "Don't do anything yet. Barb thinks something's about to break. Promise?"
"I'd rip him up only he's probably left instructions in case anything happens to him. Okay. I'll hold off for now."
"Make the check out to me," Hank directed. "That way, if you change your mind, I can bring Benny to call on you. You'd look silly with your back broken."
"You make my ass tired," Harry complained. "It's bad enough as it is. You don't have to steal my money."
"The girls need it. Start writing. Or do you want to talk to Benny?"
"No. Get that ape out of here. Give me a pen."
When Tony and Helen gave up rolling on the rug, seeming to appreciate belatedly that they had gathered an audience, Barbara looked at Hank and carried her drink over to the couch. Sam and Doris made room for them.
The living room had returned to normal. Pat and Molly were still talking unconcernedly. Benny was leaning against the wall, staring into his empty glass with a puzzled expression, as though wondering where his drink had gone. The low-pockets blonde was resting in his lately vacated chair, adoring him with her eyes. Harry had left the bar. They could hear him making noises in the kitchen.
He reappeared, carrying a tray with a bottle and glasses. "I'd have hired a caterer but you sex maniacs would probably have screwed him blind. So it's wait on yourselves." He brought a second tray and set it on the bar. "Have at it. The caviar's good beluga. I'll open the champagne." He was in a party mood.
"That's that whale shit he served last time," Hank grumbled. "And that fizzy stuff makes me fart worse'n my old grampa." He watched moodily while Harry undid the wire on the magnum. The cork bounced off the ceiling. Glasses were held out to catch the bubbling wine.
Harry cleared his throat, holding up a hand as though about to propose a toast. The conversation died and he started to speak when Tony produced a camera, interrupting him.
"Let's have a picture first." Expertly, he grouped them with Harry in the middle. When the flash went off, Barbara was painfully reminded of an earlier occasion. There had only been two faces in that picture but they were sufficient.
"Let's drink to sex," Harry proposed. "May it never go out of style."
Everybody drank. Tony looked at his watch, timing the picture. Harry joined him, looking interested. "Nice camera," he commented.
"You should know," Tony agreed. "It took a picture for you once before. You paid for it. I happened to be the photographer."
Hank and Benny came over. Benny managed to nudge Harry urgently. "So that's how it was," Hank said. "Harry, you're a first-class bastard. What did you do with that negative?" Benny growled and contrived to step on Harry's toe.
"He never had a negative," Tony told him. "This camera is a new Japanese version of the Polaroid. It develops its own pictures but only one. The negative is no good for a second print.
Look." He opened the back of the camera and peeled off a black-and-white photograph. The film when he held it up was already dark. The image vanished as they watched. "A little expensive," Tony admitted "but the pictures are fine."
"You faked it," Hank growled. "You showed them poor kids an empty envelope and made them believe you had them where it hurt."
Barbara, listening, suddenly felt a weakness in her knees. She sat down quickly, still not crediting her ears. Betty and Tommy came in, looking very much in love. Pat and Molly appeared to have taken advantage of the discussion to leave without bidding their host good-night. Outside, the street traffic seemed louder. Or perhaps it was just the steady beating of her heart.
The sun brightening the window curtains woke Betty and she lay with her eyes open, quite certain that this was the best morning of them all. She and Barb were rid of Harry, Tommy loved her and they were going to be married as soon as he could get the license. How different to yesterday, when she had wished she could die. It was all so sudden that she would need a little time to get used to it.
Barbara stirred and stretched her arms and yawned luxuriously. "Good morning, dear sister," she greeted blithely. "Are your thoughts clean and pure to start your new day?"
When Betty smiled at her, she lay back, making mental pictures on the ceiling. The newly-weds would live here with their mother. She was going to talk her into giving permission to rent an apartment. Barbara was going into business with Hank. They'd need a pad to operate properly. She rolled over and smiled at the wall. The money would roll in. Harry was a lousy manager but, with Hank controlling him, he'd make a good pimp.
