enovel Three For Fun Peter Worthington [Future Story Codes]

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Three For Fun ....(69k)    by Peter Worthington

PREFACE

With their parents dead, Andrea assumes the role of mother and father to her brother and sister, Billy and Mimosa.

In an effort to get Billy the jobs she wants for him, Andrea replaces his cock with her cunt on the casting couch.

Billy, however, is not interested. He is too involved in the nudie off-Broadway sextacular in which he is the starring stud.

The three of them had their differences, until they found that the bed was big enough for three, proving the old adage that the family that lays together, stays together.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 The Casting Couch
2 Family Quarrel
3 About Fricky Dicky
4 The Youngest Cunt in the Family
5 Do You Screw Your Sister?
6 Tete-A-Tete
7 Total Sex
8 Fuck the Donkey
9 A House That's a Home
10 Mimosa Makes a Decision
11 A Case of Mistaken Identity
12 That Old Black Magic
13 Jacked by a Jackass
14 Barefaced Twat
15 Breakfast for Two
16 The Preparation
17 The Ass Licking
18 "Did the Donkey Come?"
19 Lust for His Sister
20 Billy and His Egyptian Mommy
21 Beautiful Billy Boy

CHAPTER ONE

THE CASTING COUCH

"Got a cigarette?"

Andrea glanced at her brother. He was nervous. His hands were trembling and beads of sweat had dampened his face.

Andrea smiled. She opened her purse and fished out a handkerchief. "You need this a lot more than a cigarette, Billy. "You're absolutely soaking wet!"

He shook his head.

"Take the handkerchief," Andrea persisted. "This is one of the top model agencies in town. I've had to spend a fortune in phone calls to set up an appointment for you."

"Nobody asked you to," Billy mumbled. "You're always doing what you want to be doing, Andrea, and then you wind up telling us it's all for our own good."

"Wipe your face."

"No!"

"Be quiet!" Andrea hissed, nervously glancing around the room. "If anyone heard you, Billy, I swear I'll. . . "

"What?" he demanded. "Kill me?"

"Billy,. . . "

"Fuck you," he whispered. "I won't make a scene, don't worry. I won't spoil the effect for you. But I've had it, Andrea. I've really had it! I'm through being dragged around from agency to agency. I'm sick of those precious people telling me that I'm really just as pretty as a girl. If I wanted to be a girl, I'd wear a goddamned dress. But I'm not a girl, Andrea, and I'm not going to sit around any longer while you push me into a career!" Billy stood up.

His voice remained low, but it was seething with fury. "A career? What kind of a career? As a model for toothpaste? Just another pretty picture in a magazine?"

"Billy, "No!" He responded fiercely. "I want to be an actor, Andrea, not some faggot dummy shining his shoes in a television commercial!"

"Lots of actors get their start in television," Andrea pointed out. "I've heard you say that yourself-lots of times."

"Other actors-not me. I don't like sitting around these goddamn agencies waiting for some bastard of a casting director to start licking his lips the minute he looks at me!"

"Don't you dare leave!"

"No?" Billy laughed.

Turning on his heels, he strode briskly from the room, slamming the door behind him.

The girl at the reception desk glanced up with a startled expression. "Was that Billy Hunt?" she inquired. "Mr. Finch is ready to see him now."

"I'll see Mr. Finch!"

"But...."

"Billy's my brother. I'm sure it will be all right."

Gripping the leather portfolio of pictures Billy had left behind, Andrea barges past the receptionist and opened the door to the inner sanctum. CASTING was lettered in gilt on the door.

Mr. Finch?"

His back was turned to the door. He sat with his feet propped up on a typewriter table. He gestured vividly with his arm in the air as he spoke brusquely on the phone. "No, no. That's not my concern, Freemont, you can shove your censors up your ass. Television is too decent the way it is now. The same to you-with shit on a stick!"

He hung up and turned around. Instantly his face went pale.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I didn't realize you were here. I was expecting..."

"Billy Hunt," Andrea interrupted. "My name is Andrea. I'm Billy's sister. About the phone call, Mr. Finch-skip it. I understand. Really, I do. Don't bother to apologize."

He smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"My brother ... well, uh, he was suddenly indisposed. I know this sounds foolish. But it was a case of nerves. He'll probably get over it in a little while. But I didn't want to let this opportunity go by."

"Have you ever considered modeling yourself?" Finch inquired. "You don't mind if I call you Andrea, do you?"

"No," she smiled, "not at all."

"That portfolio-Billy's pictures?"

Andrea nodded.

"May I see them?"

He opened the portfolio and spread the pictures on his desk. He saw before him a series of glossy, professional photographs depicting Billy in a variety of moods and poses.

Finch was evidently impressed. He whistled his approval, holding up one shot for a better view. "He certainly looks good in a bathing suit!"

Andrea smiled. "I took that one myself."

"Did you?"

"Ummm-hmmm. Last summer in Hawaii. We were there for two weeks. My brother, my sister and me. Someone just gave me a camera and I started fooling around. I was really surprised when it came out as well as it did."

"You seem to be a double threat, Andrea," Finch said, putting down the photographs. "You're pretty as a picture and you know how to take them, too. That's a double threat in my book."

"I'm mostly just interested in helping my brother get started on his career. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that's important for me."

"You must be a close family."

Andrea nodded. "There are only the three of us. Our parents died a few years ago. So, it's been up to me to raise the two kids and see to it that they both get a good start."

"I can understand that," Finch said, sympathetically. "How old are you, Andrea?"

"Twenty-three," she replied. "Billy's two years younger. And little Mimosa is the baby in the family. She's thirteen."

"Mimosa?" Finch exclaimed. "I thought that was the name of a flower or something! I never heard that as a name before."

"My mother was French," Andrea explained. "That's where the name comes from."

"Too bad I'm not shooting a family commercial. The three of you would probably come across like winners." Then he shrugged. "But, for the moment, the commercial we happen to be casting for needs a young boy about Billy's age. And certainly with his looks. Has Billy had any film experience?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Something I could show to the sponsor. He'd be much more impressed if he could see Billy on film. Pictures like these are fine as far as we're concerned. We're certainly able to visualize what an actor would look like on film. But we're the professionals. That's our business. But the sponsor is something else again. And his word is important. After all, the actor we choose will represent his product on television in millions of homes. That's what the casting business is all about."

"All we have are the magazine jobs that Billy has done so far," Andrea murmured. "That's why this appointment was so important to us. We knew you were looking for Billy's type. One commercial is what we need to break the ice. Then I'm sure Billy can get lots of jobs."

"I think so, too. But..." Again Finch shrugged. "I don't see what I can do. I'm certainly sorry that Billy couldn't be here. If nothing else, just to see that I'm not the faggot most young actors seem to think I am."

Andrea laughed.

"That's true," Finch insisted. "Once upon a time all the talk was about actresses. Every girl was supposed to put out on a couch if she expected to get anywhere. The casting couch. Surely you must have heard about that?"

"Yes. I used to wonder if it was true."

"So did I," admitted Finch. "Maybe that's how I wound up in this business. But I quickly found it was a myth. Not because the girls weren't willing or anything like that. No! The problem was time. During a business day, there was just no time to fool around-not if you were at all interested in earning a living. Sex during office hours is just a luxury no one I know can afford."

"Really?"

Finch smiled. "Usually. Of course, there are exceptions. But anyway, what I started to say was about this change. Once upon a time, everyone expected the girls to lie down on the couch. Now the rumors are that the boys are supposed to do it. Isn't that the truth? Isn't that one of the things that upset Billy today?"

Andrea nodded. "That's true."

Finch sighed. "What a life! Here I am-thirty years old, good income, great job, not bad-looking, every girl's ideal of what a debonair young bachelor in New York should be-and what happens? They all thing I'm a faggot!"

"Maybe I can help correct that impression?" Andrea suggested, surprising herself as she said it. The innuendo in her voice was explicit, as if she were offering herself to Finch for a fuck.

"You're blushing," he said softly. "How come?"

"I guess I sort of shocked myself. I came in here all eager to do anything I could to help Billy. But then, the more we got talking, well-I guess I began to be interested in you for myself."

"That's nice," Finch said. "I feel the same way."

"But where does that leave Billy?" Andrea asked. "It sort of makes anything we do seem as if..." And her voice drifted off. She hesitated, then fell into silence.

"As if?" Finch encouraged her. "Honest, Andrea, the more we can talk about these things, the better everything else will turn out."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Trust me."

"Well," Andrea blurted out, "as if I'm a whore. You know what I mean? Just a girl willing to sell herself to get some kind of advantage.

Offering my pussy if you'll give Billy a job."

"Would you."

"What?"

"Offer me your cunt if I get Billy this job for the commercial?"

"Are you serious?"

"Well," he said slowly, "Let's pretend that I am."

Andrea shook her head. "No, I could never enjoy it that way. And if I went to bed with you, I'd be going to have a good time. If it so happened that you did help Billy-well, that would be fine, better than fine, because it would be something else to draw us closer together. And the closer we are to each other, the more we'd enjoy ourselves in bed, wouldn't we?"

Finch nodded. "Busy tonight, Andrea?"

"No."

"I'll pick you up about eight," Finch said. "Oh, by the way, leave these pictures with me. Maybe I'll be able to do something for Billy after all. . . "

CHAPTER TWO

FAMILY QUARREL

Mimosa belched.

"You're a pig!" Billy shouted. "Only pigs fart through their faces. Goddamn you, Mimosa, why the fuck do you have to do your homework here in the kitchen when I happen to be eating? You've got a whole goddamn fucking room to yourself. Even a little desk. And your phonograph too. Don't you want to listen to the Beatles? Bob Dylan? Play with yourself? That's what little thirteen year old twirps like you are supposed to be doing."

"Why are you eating in the middle of the afternoon?" she demanded. "You'll spoil your appetite for dinner."

"Who's cooking tonight?"

"Me!"

"That's why I'm eating now, you snotnose! Pure self-protection-nothing else!"

"I heard a new riddle in school today."

"Tell me."

"What's the clap?"

Billy scratched his head. "Gonorrhea."

"Uh-uh," Mimosa laughed, "try again."

"I give up."

"One handed applause!"

Billy grunted. "That's lousy! You mean to say we waste our money on a private school for you to get an education like that? Shit! If Andrea would listen to me, I'd have you out walking the streets!"

"Pig!"

"Fuck you!"

Mimosa grinned. "I'll bet you wish you could. Don't you, Billy? At night do you dream of my luscious and delectable nubile young body? Does that get you hot? Do you think of me writhing in passion?"

"I think of you dead," Billy said slowly. "Night after night I dream of your moldy corpse being eaten and sucked by worms. Little eels crawling through your nose..."

"That's disgusting!"

"And you're not even dead yet," Billy continued. "You're buried alive in this coffin. There's no way you can get out. The coffin's already been buried. Down under six feet of dirt. But outside you can hear the rats nibbling, eager to get in and start devouring your flesh."

"Only you could think of something as vile and nauseous and perverted and sick!"

"You're all alone, Mimosa, lying there and knowing that the little worms are on their way to your nose, your ears, your eyes, your ass, and finally crawling into your cunt!"

Mimosa lifted a dish from the table and hurled it at Billy's head. He ducked and the plate bounced off the wall and shattered against the refrigerator.

"MIMOSA!"

Andrea stood in the kitchen doorway. She had entered the room for the last act, just in time to see the plate flung from her sister's hand.

"Mimosa, what are you trying to do?"

"She's trying to kill me," Billy shouted. "That's what this little bitch is up to. One way or the other. Poison my food. Shatter my nerves. She's up to some kind of shit every minute of the day."

"That's not true," Mimosa screamed. "He was teasing me, saying the worst sort of awful terrible nasty things!"

"Shut up bitch!"

"Billy," Andrea snapped. "Just watch the way you talk in front of her. I don't know how many times I've told you the same thing. I mean it! There's going to be hell to pay from me if it keeps on much longer."

"My language?" Billy snorted. "Why don't you get it through your head that this little twirp is a two-faced conniving thirteen-year-old pudding of evil? She's deliberate! Everything she says is deliberate! In front of you she acts like God's little angel saint, but as soon as your back is turned she's flaunting her behind in front of me as if she were a cheap two-bit hustler working for nickels in the bowery!"

"Billy!"

"It happens to be the truth!"

"I want to see you in my room," Andrea said coldly. "There are a couple of other things I want to talk to you about. like this afternoon, for instance."

Mimosa perked up her ears. "This afternoon? Billy's appointment with the casting director? What happened this afternoon?"

"None of your business," Andrea said firmly. "Take your books off the table. If you have homework to do, the place to do it is in your room, not here in the kitchen. Things certainly aren't black and white, I can see that. Maybe Billy does fly off the handle at you with some ugly curse words, but I'm sure there must be some provocation on your part!"

"Me?" exclaimed Mimosa. "That's right, Andrea, blame me! I throw the dish at his head because of some of the most vile and obscene things I've heard said and suddenly it's my fault because my school books just happen to be on the kitchen table!"

"Enough is enough," Andrea said sternly. "I don't want to start delivering the 'now-I-am-your-guardian' speech again, but sometimes I wonder if you get the message. Both of you are my responsibility."

"Until I'm twenty-one," Billy reminded her. "Eight months to go."

"Eight months is eight months. That's beside the point. Let's go to my room, Billy. We have some things to discuss."

"I said what I had to say," mumbled Billy. "That's all there is to it. I'm done being dragged all over New York from one model agency to another like a piece of prize meat for sale."

"Privately, Billy," Andrea said sharply. "In the meantime, Mimosa, I want to see your things put away and dinner started. I believe you're the cook tonight, according to the schedule."

"My things are away," Mimosa replied. "And dinner won't take more than a few minutes. Whatever you have to say to Billy I think should be considered part of a family council session."

"You think!" Billy snorted. "No one I know asked your opinion. Besides, I made my point, Andrea, so let's skip the whole thing. I was just sitting here trying to eat my sandwich in peace when you two women started in bugging me!"

"What right has he got to eat?" Mimosa demanded. "If I'm making dinner tonight then I don't see the point in preparing anything if he won't be around to eat it!"

"What do you mean?" asked Andrea. "Aren't you having dinner at home this evening?"

Billy shook his head. "I have an audition tonight. One I got for myself. Not for a commercial on television, not for a magazine's fashion layout. . .an audition for an acting job."

Mimosa snorted.

"What sort of audition?" Andrea asked suspiciously. "Who for? What's it about?"

"For a play," Billy replied. "Off-Broadway, naturally, but at least they're looking for a legitimate actor and not just a beautiful body."

"I'll bet it's your friend Leo's play," Mimosa giggled. "The sexy one, where all the actors are going to be naked on stage and some of them even actually do it. Is that the play, Billy? That's the one! I bet it is!"

"I thought we decided about that, Billy," Andrea said. "We agreed that it would be bad for your career to be seen naked on the stage. Particularly in that play your so-called friend Leo is putting on. I read that script."

"So did I!" Mimosa interrupted.

Andrea shuddered. "It was vile. Some of the things Leo is going to put on the stage most people have never even imagined in private! I'd hate to imagine what an audition for that must be like! What do they do? Ask the actors to sleep with each other? Is that your idea of acting? How much talent do you need for that?"

"If I was going to sell my beautiful body," Mimosa said, "I'd want to get the most money for it I possibly could! That's all that would interest me. Off-Broadway is for the birds!"

"Nobody asked you!"

"I just mentioned my opinion!"

"Hold it!" Andrea shouted. "Really! Let's get down to some sort of order, or else we'll waste all our time arguing here in the kitchen."

"Family council!" Mimosa shouted. "Family council!"

"No," Andrea responded firmly. "Nothing of importance is up for discussion. If Billy's going to skip dinner tonight, that's his business. But perhaps more warning in advance would be considered polite next time."

"Sure," Billy grinned, "why not?"

"The rest of what I have to say to Billy is private," Andrea said with a meaningful glance at her sister. "I would appreciate your sweeping up the broken dish while Billy and I spend a few minutes alone."

"All right," Mimosa muttered, "but I don't think it's fair."

"Come on, Billy. It's time for our talk."

Billy hesitated. "I'm in a hurry, Andrea. I told Leo I'd meet him downtown at six o'clock."

Andrea glanced at her watch. "You have plenty of time. This is serious." She stared at her brother for a long moment, hoping her glance would be understood. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.

"She's the boss," Mimosa whispered. "You'd better do what the boss says."

"Go fuck yourself!"

"Wouldn't you just love that?" Mimosa laughed. "Wouldn't you just love that?"

CHAPTER THREE

ABOUT TRICKY DICKY

"Sit down." Andrea beckoned Billy to the bed, patting the pillow beside her.

She kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her.

She smiled at Billy. Her face was warm and open, without a trace of the frayed nerves and exasperation she had revealed in the kitchen a moment before.

"Are you going to sit down next to me, Billy?"

He stood in the doorway, hesitating. In the back of him the sound filtered through the hallway from the kitchen. Billy heard Mimosa humming to herself as she swept the floor.

"Next to me, Billy?' Andrea repeated.

He nodded, kicking the door closed with his foot. He reached for the knob with his hand and flicked the lock. Then he looked up and towards the bed. Andrea sat there with an inviting smile on her face.

"I thought you said it was serious?"

Andrea smiled. "It is serious, Billy, But that doesn't mean we can't be comfortable, does it?"

"No," he shrugged. "I suppose not."

"I have some cigarettes in my purse. Do you want to bring them over?"

He nodded, lifted her purse from the bureau top and carried it with him over to the bed. "Do you need matches?"

"No, I have some."

With her nails Andrea tore open the cellophane wrapper. Ripping the silver paper of the packet and extending the first cigarette to her brother, she asked, "Did you lock the door?"

He nodded.

She smiled and leaned towards him to kiss him on the cheek. It was a wet kiss. Her tongue fluttered against his skin.

"I like kissing your skin, Billy, especially up here on the cheek, just after you've shaved. I like the way it tastes ... sort of like mint."

"That's my after-shave lotion," Billy mumbled. He lighted a match and inhaled deeply. "I don't have much time, Andrea. Really, I don't. Maybe I shouldn't have walked out on you like that, up there in that dumb agency, but I felt I had had it. I don't know if you know what I mean, but I really felt like I had had it. I just didn't want to spend another minute of my life waiting for those goddamned faggot casting directors to try and squeeze my balls!"

"That's not what they really do," Andrea smiled. "You're just saying that to make me jealous."

"No," Billy protested, "I mean it! Oh, sure, they're not out there grinning and licking their lips and sort-of clucking you under the chin and telling you how cute you are!"

"I'm sorry, Billy," Andrea said. "I never had any idea it was that bad."

"Worse!" Billy said emphatically. "Sure, they don't try to touch my cock or anything because they can see by one look at me they'd wind up head first through the fucking window if they so much as tried to lay a hand on my cock!"

"Me too?' Andrea whispered.

Slowly raising her right hand she held it poised over Billy's lap. Her fingers were extended and they rested less than a scant inch away from the crotch of his pants.

"Would you let me touch it-would you let me touch your cock, Billy?"

Billy sighed. "Let me finish what I'm saying. Just for once, Andrea, hear me out, will you? Maybe you are right about most things. I don't doubt that-I never did. We all agree You're the only one in the family with any brains. Even Mom and Dad knew that."

"I hope I have more than brains," Andrea complained. "I'd like to feel I had some sex appeal too."

Casually her hand descended lightly at first and brushed against the soft texture of his pants.

It was an idle gesture. She gradually moved it toward his crotch. She felt the response from within as his penis began to thicken and swell.

"Do you want me to be a faggot?"

"Would I love you this way if I wanted you to be gay?" Andrea asked. "What a silly question! You're a beautiful man, Billy, a beautiful man!"

He nodded. "That's true. But I'm tired of being mistaken for a girl. I'm tired of other guys looking at me as if I'm queer. That's what pissed me off today in the casting office. Girls even ignore me!"

"I can't believe that!"

"They do!" Billy insisted. "Automatically most of them assume just because I'm so good looking that I'm some sort of freaky untouchable."

"That's terrible!"

"Right!" Billy said emphatically. "I was talking to Leo about this. It was his idea really. Sure that play of his is obscene and dirty. No holds barred. Leo intends to have actual fucking and sucking on stage!"

Andrea shuddered with revulsion. "Just what I would expect from Leo."

"That's beside the point," Billy insisted. "If I'm in that play and I'm seen by the public-well, for once and for all, I won't be bothered anymore by the fags! Girls will chase me instead!"

"Then I'll be jealous," Andrea pouted. "Think of your sister."

Billy smiled. "You know I think of you. Sometimes I think of you too goddam much." He flicked the ash of his cigarette, inhaled his last drag and squashed out the butt in the bedside ashtray. Andrea squirmed closer and tightened her grip on his cock while simultaneously parting her thighs as Billy slid his hand down to her groin.

"I think of you, all right, Andrea! I really think of you!"

"And I think of you, Billy, baby," Andrea moaned. "I really do. I don't want to see you naked on a stage, honey, or watch you fuck another girl every night."

"Not every night," Billy grinned. "You don't have to come to every performance."

"You bet I'll be there at every performance," Andrea flashed. "I know how easy it is for you to over-act."

"You don't have to worry," Billy said. "We don't actually fuck. It's just a simulation."

"Close enough to the real thing as far as I'm concerned," Andrea stated emphatically. "Besides, I want to see my brother at the top of his profession, not the bottom. I want to see you respected, Billy. I want to read about you in the papers."

"You will," Billy laughed. "Right after opening night. I'll bet my name is in every paper in town!"

Andrea winced. "That's just what I'm afraid of, Look, Billy, wouldn't you really rather be in a TV commercial? Mimosa is only thirteen but she's bright about some things. If you're going to sell your body, Billy, why not do it for some real money? You know what they pay on TV! That's money!"

"Sure," Billy said angrily. Every serious actor dreams about a long running TV commercial with plenty of residuals. The next stop is Hollywood. Sure that's what I want. But I'm not going to do it if I have to prostitute myself to the first horny guy who makes a grab for my prick!"

"So that's really what sent you out running today from the casting office," Andrea mused. "Somehow I didn't think it was all that simple."

"It is."

"What's his name-Finch-the casting director? Did you think he was queer? A homosexual?"

Billy nodded. "He's got the worst reputation in the business! The kind he goes for the most is my type. Leo told me that. No sooner would I walk into his office, but he'd be trying to feel me up."

"I thought he was rather nice."

"You thought ... you saw him, Andrea, you met Dick Finch?" Billy was surprised. "After I left?"

Andrea nodded. "Dick Finch. Is that his first name? Yes, Billy I saw him after you left."

"How come?"

"You had no sooner walked out the door when the girl called you in for your interview. I couldn't let an opportunity like that go to waste, I just couldn't, Billy, so I walked into his office with your portfolio and I showed him your pictures."

Billy snorted. "What did he say? That he was interested? I'll bet he liked the one of me in a bathing suit. Did he suggest I come see him after hours?"

"No," Andrea smiled. "He seemed interested in you all right, Billy, but strictly professionally. He didn't seem at all like a homosexual to me."

"You don't know them like I do!" Billy exclaimed. "How dirty and devious they can be!"

"Well," Andrea shrugged, "I didn't get that impression from Mr. Dick Finch-not at all!"

"You sound pretty smug!"

"Do I?"

"You know you do!"

Andrea smiled. "If Mr. Finch happened to call you up in a day or so with a concrete offer of a legitimate job in a filmed TV commercial-Billy, do you think you'd accept?"

"That's hardly-likely!"

"I didn't ask you whether or not it was-likely," teased Andrea. "I just want to know if you would take the job. On the straight up and up. Would you take the job and tell Leo to go kiss his own ass with a dirty play of his? That's what I want to know?"

"Sure!" Billy replied. "If that were to happen."

"Maybe it will, maybe it will."

Billy stared at his sister. A secretive expression was revealed by her smile. She beamed like a Cheshire cat, erotic and sly.

"What went on between you and Dick Finch?" inquired Billy. "You sound funny to me!"

"Do I?"

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing. . . " Andrea snuggled close. Her hand toyed with the buttons of his fly. She squeezed her legs spasmodically. "Nothing yet. But I think he wants to fuck me..."

CHAPTER FOUR

THE YOUNGEST CUNT IN THE FAMILY

Mimosa wondered whether they were fucking as she finished sweeping in the kitchen. She paused in the hallway just outside of Andrea's room. When she heard the murmur of voices, Mimosa smiled. They were still talking. She decided not to wait.

She knew the sounds of their fucking by heart. Many times in the afternoon, she had crouched outside of the bedroom door and listened to the dialogue of their love duet, getting herself hot in the process. Sometimes too hot.

The first time Mimosa masturbated had been out here in the hall in front of the bedroom. As she listened to the creak of the bed springs, she heard Andrea's voice begging Billy to go down. Involuntarily, Mimosa discovered her own hand had begun to gently massage her groin. It stirred a fire inside. With her fingers, she reached under her dress until she touched the lace frill of her panties.

The panties had belonged to Andrea. So had the bra. Most of Mimosa's clothes were hand-me-downs and outmoded garments formerly worn by her older sister. Nearly all of the money in the monthly allowance for clothing was used by Billy-much to Mimosa's complaint. But Andrea insisted it was necessary for Billy to make any headway with his career for him to be properly dressed.

"The only headway Billy will make is with his face stuck in your cunt," Mimosa would have replied, had she the courage or the cruelty. She was genuinely fond of both her older brother and sister. However, her emotion did not cloud her reason. Billy's 'career' was ridiculous in Mimosa's eyes.

Mimosa had seen some of the feeble attempts Billy had passed off as acting. As far as Mimosa was concerned, Billy didn't have the slightest idea of what was entailed in a performance. Unless he actually allowed Leo to talk him into going on stage in that dirty play of his, she couldn't really see how he would get any acting jobs.

Mimosa grinned. Maybe she underestimated her brother. Billy might be a lousy actor. But he certainly was a magnificent lover. Andrea never let more than a day go by without inventing all sorts of devious tricks to get Mimosa out of the way.

I wonder if she really thinks she's fooling me, Mimosa thought to herself.

Masturbating had a great effect on Mimosa. That squirmy feeling when Mimosa first inserted her fingers into her warm virginal slit was nothing new. Mimosa often played with her cunt. Ever since she was a baby, she had done it. She loved it, especially in the bathtub, with all the bubbles. Mimosa still remembered the games she had played by herself in the tub when she was five and six years old. Games with no names. Sometimes she would pretend she was a doctor, but that was only for the first few minutes.

She had much more fun with the bubbles, pushing them into her slit and watching their colors collapse as the soap bubbles burst inside the dark cavity.

That's where the rainbow is, Mimosa would tell herself, and there's a pot of gold inside.

In the bed she would spend hours twisted around like an octopus, trying to crane her neck into a position from which she could look into the depths of her pussy. Some nights she would try with a flashlight.

The first illustrated book with drawings of the genitalia fascinated her. Mimosa quickly learned the names of all the parts ... uterus, womb and vagina. Clitoris and labial walls. Bored by school, she would spend most of her hours during the day writing poetry in which she tried to find rhymes for the names of the parts. She knew much more than the other children.

Yet ... one thing was unexpected and that was the feeling. The warm fire that she felt sizzling somewhere inside was something she had never felt before. The first time she felt it was in the hallway crouched in front of Andrea's door, listening to her brother and sister.

She was shocked.

Mimosa realized of course that mothers and fathers were allowed to make love. But she knew that brothers and sisters couldn't. She didn't know exactly why they couldn't. She thought it was something about children going crazy.

The sound was unmistakable. Andrea was fucking. But it took a long silent moment before Mimosa could realize and accept the fact that Andrea was making love to Billy. And that was the moment she fondled her own crotch.

Her inquisitive finger made its way to her clitoris. It moved by instinct, manipulating the little button of love with warm juices that had begun to flow from the opening of the vagina itself. It was a sticky juice, with a funny smell. She licked it from the tip of her finger. It tasted like snot.

Yes, it was good to rub her clitoris with. Smooth and comfortable. It reduced the friction and allowed the full sensation to slowly rise to the surface.

Mimosa frigged faster. Faster than she thought her hand could move. Whipping the little knob back and forth under the frantic urging of her flesh. Faster ... until a sudden explosion seemed to burst apart; a crescendo in her veins. She was coming. Mimosa cried in delight.

That was months ago. Mimosa was older now. The sensation was keen. But she had begun to think of the real thing, constantly.

She wondered what it would be like to actually screw. She would like to be down on her back with her legs up in the air, her knees bent and all of her body poised to receive the descending man's body from above, his spear first.

Mimosa imagined every detail of the scene. Except one. Which prick? That was the problem. None of the boys she went to school with would do. They were all too young. Once entering the gym by mistake she had bumped into a flock of them on their way to the doctor for inspection. They all squealed and giggled and used their hands to hide their things.

"What for?" Mimosa wondered. None of the boys she saw even had hair on their cocks and she doubted that any of them could even be gotten hard. No, none of the boys would do.

There was always Billy. Mimosa considered that. In some ways she figured he would be the most fun to fuck. He was certainly beautiful, and he was fun to tease. But not for the cock that had to crack her cherry. Mimosa wanted someone else for that.

She had thought of Leo, Billy's friend. Leo was a black-bearded self proclaimed genius. He was also somehow repulsive. But he was sexy. He was repulsive in some oddly enticing way. He looked like a satyr, the way he talked. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as he spoke. And his ideas were wild. Leo had a different idea about sex every time he stopped over. Lately he had been consumed by his idea of a sexual extravaganza-a three ringed "CIRCUS OF SEX" to open this fall in a theatre.

At first Andrea had ridiculed him. But gradually it became apparent that Leo was going ahead with his plans: arranging financing, organizing actors, recruiting writers, and now about to hire Billy as the star of the show.

But what excited Mimosa the most about Leo was the implicit feeling she had that Leo would love to be the first one to fuck her. Perhaps it was a glance she had caught in his eye that brought on the idea, but nothing definite. It was just the unmistakable scent, the odor of two animals drawing together in heat.

One thing Mimosa knew certainly. It would have to be soon. She felt she couldn't last much longer without it. All of her waking and sleeping moments were consumed by thoughts of fucking. The only cure was the real thing.

"Soon..." she thought to herself.

Mimosa went back to the kitchen. Busily washing the lettuce for the salad and doing the necessary chores for the dinner she would serve, she reminded herself that it would be dinner for two. Only Andrea would be eating home with her. Billy would be on his way to meet Leo.

Mimosa felt she had to decide. Right now! Procrastination was useless. It could be none of the boys at school. One of the teachers was interested in her, but Mimosa didn't find him attractive at all. Mimosa ran over the possibilities. There was the doorman and the janitor, too. But it was obvious, it all boiled down to one name ... Leo.

CHAPTER FIVE

DO YOU SCREW YOUR SISTER?

"What number are you looking for?"

Billy glanced at the scrawled handwriting. It was his own, but he could hardly read it. He'd been taking a bath when Leo called, and writing down the address had been difficult perched on the edge of the tub.

"Saint Marks Place. Number thirty-three and a half."

The panhandler nodded. "Just down the block, next to the Head Shop. You can't miss it-they've got a big poster in front. The Theatre of Sexual Expression or some sort of bullshit like that."

"Thanks," Billy muttered. He dropped a quarter in the panhandler's cup and turned to move quickly down the block.

He was late. Billy glanced at his watch. Close to six-thirty. "Fuck!" he cursed aloud. He hated to be late. Tonight was the first rehearsal.

"Whew!" Billy breathed a sigh of relief. He had managed to get away with it, convincing Andrea that all that was happening tonight was only an audition and not an actual rehearsal complete with fucking and sucking on stage. Billy winced, imagining Andrea's reaction had she known the truth.

"Billy!"

Leo was in front of the theatre pacing the sidewalk, glancing first one way, then the other. He was nervous and impatient. Then he finally spotted Billy coming down the block.

"Leo," Billy exclaimed breathlessly. "I'm sorry I'm late. I did everything I could to get here on time."

"Andrea?"

Billy nodded. "She was kind of suspicious."

"What did you tell her?"

"Just that it was an audition tonight, Leo. I didn't tell her it was the real thing . . .a rehearsal and all. I want her to get used to the idea that I'm going to be in this play before I spring it on her."

Leo snorted. "I dig you, Billy, baby, I really do. But baby, some of your relationships are just too far out even for me. I don't see why you have to wheedle and squirm and be so fucking evasive with Andrea when it's all simply a matter of telling the truth!"

"Sure, Leo," Billy shrugged. "But, after all, Andrea read the script of this play. She knows how dirty it is. And reading it is one thing. To actually realize that I'm going to be acting in it is something else..." He hesitated, trying to find a comparison to explain to Leo what he meant.

"Let's say you were married. If you were married do you think your wife would be all that delighted to learn you're going to be away from home every night fucking and sucking some twenty-odd girls in a three-ring circus for money?"

"Andrea's your sister!"

"It amounts to the same thing," Billy replied. "It's all in the family."

"Only if you're fucking her," Leo said softly. A slight grin played at the corner of his mouth. "That's an idea which has crossed my mind several times."

"Hah-hah!" Billy laughed. "That's funny! Me and my sister!"

"Shit!" Leo shrugged. "What's wrong with screwing your great-grandmother if that's the thing that turns you on? The whole purpose behind my Theatre of Sexual Expression is to get people to come up on stage and liberate themselves. Join in with the actors! Play out the games! Live your dreams in reality! This is no bullshit! Not coming from me! Go ahead! Screw your sister!"

"What are you talking about?" Billy exclaimed, startled by the frenzy in Leo's speech. His gestures were wild. He had thrown himself into his words with total abandon. "Andrea?"

Leo nodded feverishly. "Bang her, Billy! Bang away! I wouldn't mind a piece of her hump myself!"

"Cut it out!" Billy interrupted harshly with more than a faint trace of annoyance in his voice. "Not Andrea! Don't talk about her like that!" Billy took a deep breath. "Mimosa? Now that's a very different sister! I'd gladly pay cash for someone to screw her! Anything to get that little brat out of my hair!"

"Really?" Leo was interested. The change of tone in his friend's voice was apparent. "Okay Billy, baby, I just might try to score in that little nubile box ... but don't get up tight, let me ask you about Andrea, okay?"

Billy nodded.

"To me Andrea is a damn good looking blonde. I'd love to go bouncing in a bed with her. And she's also your sister and a pretty shrewd cookie in her own right, okay? But, Billy baby, I don't see her with all that awe and extra special shit you seem to imply every time you mention her name..."

"Well," Billy replied, "Andrea has been the head of our family since the folks were killed in a speedboat accident some years ago. Even though Andrea is only a few years older than me, she promptly took over as both parents. She's not just a substitute mother to me, she's a father too. So I've got a lot of objective respect for Andrea, mixed in with my own more personal feelings."

"That makes sense," Leo admitted. "It's not a very sensual relationship. But, I suppose, that would be impossible under the circumstances."

"Exactly."

"That's a pity," Leo said. "Some brothers and sisters I know are closer to each other than they could ever be with their lovers. Physically closer."

"Mimosa," Billy laughed, "but not Andrea. That's why I have to be so circumspect regarding this play. Andrea has her heart set on a very respectable career for me as an actor. She does, Leo, she really does!"

"TV commercials and all that soap opera jazz?"

"Right," Billy nodded. "This afternoon, for example, she dragged me around to this casting agency where I had to sit like a dumbbell for hours. Finally I'd had it. I just walked out."

Leo whistled. "Andrea must have flipped! I can imagine how pissed off she'd be! No wonder you're late."

"That's also why I didn't want to tell her tonight was an actual rehearsal. To her it would have seemed as if I had chosen a career like pimping-fucking in public-instead of something respectable like she was trying to arrange. The real problem is going to be if she actually manages to land me a job in a commercial. I'll have to do that and this at the same time."

"It might even help," Leo said thoughtfully. "It might make it easier for her to accept the fact that you're really going to be in my show. Ringmaster in a circus of sex and sin!"

Billy whistled. "Tell that to Andrea! She'd go up a wall. Don't forget her feelings toward me are as complicated as mine toward her. Neither of us has an easy time with it."

"You know," Leo said seriously, "both of you are going to have to grow up one of these days. Her especially. She can't just go on being your guardian and taking care of you until you're sixty-five and eligible for social security. You've got to go out and live on your own."

"Leo!" Billy laughed. "You know I'm a swinger!"

"But what about Andrea?" Leo asked. "That's why in a very profound way she turns me on sexually much more than Mimosa, granting the fact that Mimosa is sexy and all, sure--but, well, it's that sort-of virgin quality that Andrea's got."

"I'm sure she's had an affair or two," Billy pointed out. "I don't think physically she's still a virgin."

"In her head she is," Leo said softly. "And maybe that's where I'd like to fuck her."

"Maybe you'll get a chance," Billy suggested. "Eight months more and I'm legally entitled to be on my own. And that's what I'm going to do, because I think basically, you happen to be right. Our relationship would certainly be far more sound if we were independent of each other. Eight months isn't too long to wait, is it, Leo?"

"Eight months is a breeze," Leo quipped. "The circus will still be open. You can bet your ass on that!"

Billy grinned. "Exactly! That's just what I'm doing. And my cock and balls as well. Naked! In public! Three shows on Saturday! I'll probably be so bored with pussy in eight months my idea of sex will be to jerk off in a book!"

"God forbid!" Leo shouted. "I couldn't replace you in this part, Billy-shit! We've stood around talking too goddamn long! The rest of the cast should be pretty impatient now. They've been waiting for you since six o'clock."

"What scene are we going to rehearse?"

"The orgy in the first act. Twelve girls, two chickens, a donkey and you."

CHAPTER SIX

TETE-A-TETE

"Your sister is a charming child."

Andrea smiled. "Mimosa? I think she'd be the first to agree with you."

"So I noticed," Dick replied. "She's certainly not shy."

"Shy?" Andrea raised an eyebrow. "She's brazen."

"I regret I didn't meet Billy," Dick said. "After looking at his pictures this afternoon, I was interested in seeing the young man himself."

Andrea nodded. "And he was enthusiastically looking forward to meeting you-he really was, Dick. You should have seen the expression on his face when I informed him that I had a date with you tonight. His eyes popped open. "That faggot," he said, "everybody in the business knows Dick Finch is a dirty old queer!" He couldn't get over the surprise to hear that you're about as far from a faggot as any man I ever knew."

Dick sighed. "My professional liability. Men are afraid of me. What a ridiculous business we're in, Andrea. Sometimes the idiocy of this enterprise enthralls me."

"In what way?"

"That so much should depend on the visceral reaction of one person to another ... what they used to call "sex appeal" in the old days. Now it's charisma ... magnetism. like a sock in the balls. And that's where I come in. A guy like me's got to have balls, or else the system falls apart."

He paused in the middle of his explanation to examine the wine list. "The Chateau Loiseau '59 was a very good year."

Andrea smiled. "Lovely!"

Dick snapped his fingers. The wine steward bustled toward the table. He smiled with appreciation when Dick placed the order. Obviously recognizing a patron with good taste.

"Eh bien, monsieur. An excellant choice, an excellant choice!"

"Shall we order now?"

"If you'd like, yes, certainly."

Dick beckoned the waiter and began rapidly reciting in French the choices he had selected from the menu.

He turned to Andrea. "I hope you'll enjoy the duck," he said.

"I'm certain I will."

"They do it here with a raspberry and orange sauce ... sort of a glaze, with a melted Maraschino flavor. Can you imagine what that would taste like? On a duck!"

Andrea laughed. "No, I can't," she replied. "I'm afraid I'll have to wait until I actually get it in my mouth."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"So am I," Andrea responded. "But while we wait, Dick, go on with what you were saying-it sounded fascinating. Especially the last part, where you compared yourself to..." she hesitated.

"Balls," Dick said quickly.

"Testicles," Andrea said simultaneously.

They both laughed.

"Actually that is about what my job amounts to," Dick explained. "I have to react to people from that level. Guts. Sex. Because in the final analysis, that's what sells a product on television.

The sex appeal of the performer who's handling the product in the commercial."

"What is sex appeal?" Andrea asked. "People tell me Billy is sexy, or I am sexy, or Mimosa-but I never quite know what they mean."

"You're joking, Andrea," Dick said with a smile. "I know exactly what they mean."

"Do you?" Andrea leaned forward. "Then you'll have to explain it to me. And I mean this seriously. Good looking, yes, even beautiful I'll agree to without making much of a pretense of modesty. I only need my eyes to tell me that. We're an exceptionally handsome family, all three of us. My brother, my sister and me. But isn't sex appeal something more than perfect features and a well developed body? That's what I want to know."

"Have some wine and I'll give you an answer." Dick filled her glass. "Sex appeal is ball magnetism. I use myself as a judge. I just look at someone I know. You, for example-I'd like to go to bed with you. Not just once, not for a quickie, but for a long and lascivious session...

Well, Andrea, that's sex appeal in my book. One look at you is good enough to tell me that you're exactly what we need on TV to put a new product into a million American homes!"

"What a funny thought!" Andrea mused. "To be on TV and know that a million people are out there waiting to get you into bed with them!"

"That's exactly what they do," Dick replied. "Our studies have shown that most people watch TV in bed. Men and women."

"So that means we're a sexy family," Andrea mused. "Even little Mimosa..."

"Most especially Mimosa," Dick interjected. "From what I could see, she's going to develop into another Elizabeth Taylor!"

"Or Mata Hari!"

He grinned.

"But tell me," Andrea inquired, "what about Billy? How do you form an opinion about him? Certainly you don't want to spend a long and lascivious session in the sack with Billy, do you?"

Dick smiled. "Not from his photographs, no."

"Then how do you tell about a man? In that situation you can't trust your balls."

"That's where I have to make an educated guess. In terms of a man I use other guidelines. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. In Billy's case I seem to feel that they will. I already spoke to the sponsor, did I tell you that?"

"No!" Andrea was thrilled. She leaned forward in her seat. Her face was flushed and excited. "You spoke to the sponsor already? Oh, Dick, that's marvelous-just marvelous! What about his pictures? Did you send them over to the sponsor to look at?"

Dick nodded.

"You're wonderful, Dick. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this!"

"I don't want you to tell me, Andrea, I want to be shown."

She smiled.

He smiled.

"That's what I call a radiant smile," Dick whispered. "You are lovely, Andrea, incredibly lovely."

"Dick..." Her eyes glowed in the candlelight. "I have so much I want to show you. So much to thank you for."

"Maybe it's a bit premature," Dick said with a shy smile. "I wouldn't want to have to disappoint you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd have to see Billy myself, of course, and then arrange for an appointment with the sponsor," explained Dick. "Now that's going to be the hard part."

"Why?"

"Well, as I tried to explain to you this morning, he's not as imaginative as we are. The sponsor is used to simply looking at a reel of film and making his decision from that. That's understandable in a way. like buying a prepackaged item of food. There's much more security involved. You know that someone else has already purchased the item."

Andrea shuddered. "Not if it were sex. If it were sex, I'd hate to think that. But all these details, Dick, are they really that important between us, I mean. Because I can tell you right now that I won't be disappointed. Whatever happens with Billy and his career, I'll always believe you tried your absolute best. That will be true, won't it?"

"Of course, Andrea, of course..."Dick leaned forward. He was on the verge of adding something else to his previous comment, but the arrival of the food delayed him.

He smiled at Andrea, indicating that there was much left unsaid. "I understand," she whispered, stroking the back of his hand. "I understand."

"Duck," announced the waiter, "especially for you."

CHAPTER SEVEN

TOTAL SEX

"My apartment?" Andrea nodded.

"A cab, please," Dick told the doorman. He stood with Andrea under the canopy of the restaurant.

"Le Chien Andalou," whispered Andrea. "I'll never forget, Dick, never!-tonight has been the most divine experience I've ever had. The meal ... and you."

Dick beamed. A warm glow seemed to radiate from his smile. He held Andrea in the firm grip of his arm, feeling the warmth of her body as it pressed close to his.

"Your taxi, sir," announced the doorman, waiting with palm extended. Dick slipped a five dollar bill into his hand.

He held open the door of the cab and Andrea slipped in. Dick climbed in beside her.

"God bless you," whispered the doorman as he slammed the door shut.

"Where to?" asked the driver. "I can't wait around all day."

"Patchin Place," replied Dick. "That's a small private mews off West 10th Street, in the Village."

"West 10th between where and where?"

"Greenwich and Sixth."

Andrea squeezed his arm. "Dick, the way that man looked at us-the doorman-I felt as if he knew we were about to make love. Isn't that silly? But, honestly, I really felt as if he knew that was what we're going to your apartment to do."

"She snuggled closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Her head was tilted up.

"I really felt vibrations from him. He was so sweet. 'God bless you!' That's what he said to us, Dick, did you hear him?"

He nodded. "I tipped him five bucks."

"Don't be commercial," Andrea retorted. "I thought the gesture was lovely."

"Hey, Mister," interrupted the cabby, "that address you give me ... that's on West 10th Street behind the Women's Prison, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"The women's prison?" Andrea asked.

"Detention Home," explained Dick. "That's the official title. Surely you must have seen it if you ever went sightseeing in Greenwich Village. It's a large ugly monstrosity of a building, with women jailed like animals in there. The screaming out of the windows goes on throughout the day and night."

Andrea shuddered. "What sort of women wind up in there? That sounds like a vision of hell!"

"It is," agreed Dick. "And a very unpretty picture of Hades, I might add. As far as the women are concerned, most of them are prostitutes, I would imagine. Prostitutes and murderers. It's a sordid type of place to have on one's doorstep, so to speak. But you'll see when we get there."

"I'm puzzled," Andrea admitted, "and fascinated. I'm looking forward to a treat..."

She was interrupted by a kiss. It was warm, wet, and passionate.

His tongue slipped into the inner world of her mouth, flicking violently, like an electric whip.

Stabs of pleasure began to vibrate through her body. Andrea's breath came rapidly and soft moans escaped her lips.

"You're so passionate," Dick whispered.

"You make me feel so hot," Andrea replied.

Her voice was like a soft murmur caressing his ear. She was tantalizing him with the tip of her tongue.

"I'm so hot, I don't know if I can control it. I may rape you right here."

"In the taxi?"

She nodded, her eyes bright and feverish. "I'm wild, Dick, for the right man I'm an incredible tiger, a voluptuous whore, a slave, a demon and a goddess. Many women in one. For the right man, Dick, I can be a nun and a prostitute. Or both at the same time."

He gasped. "I want you, Andrea, I want you now!"

She smiled. "Now!" she said nodding her head. "Here!" A fierce expression flashed across her face. "I'll show you how..."

"Have you done it in a taxi before?" Dick blushed. "That gets me hot ... thinking of you getting laid in a cab."

"I want to tell you all the things I've done," Andrea whispered. She softly slid her hand into his lap, deftly reaching with her fingers until she found the zipper of his fly. "What we have is special, Dick, and I want to make sure it lasts."

"It'll last," Dick vowed. "Nothing this hot can ever burn out!"

"I've done it in a cab," Andrea whispered.

A swift tug opened the fly of his pants. She could feel his cock bulging through his cotton jockey shorts. It was a simple maneuver to insert her hand into the brief material.

Dick gasped! Her fingers sent a spasm of ecstasy racing through his spine. He trembled Uncontrollably. He buried his face into the warm fold of the flesh at her neck.

Dick opened his mouth, nipping the skin with his teeth. "So hot, baby, my balls are boiling!"

"I've done it in lots of cabs," Andrea continued. "Even once in a telephone booth. But cabs ... lots of times in cabs. I can't help myself. Sex turns me on. Men turn me on. The idea of screwing ... it begins to run through me like a feverish dream. Oh, God, Dick! Your cock feels so good in my hand!"

"Does it?" he whimpered. "Does it really?"

"When we get back to your apartment," Andrea murmured, "I'm going to do things to that cock of yours that you can only dream about, Dick, and even in dreams wouldn't tell you half the score. I'm not one of those girls who uses her mouth for idle talk and never gets around to anything else..."

"I knew you sucked," Dick burst out. "I knew you sucked from the first few minutes we spoke to each other. I swear, Andrea, I swear I knew you loved to suck. You do love sucking, don't you? That's what you meant just now, wasn't it? You don't just talk about sucking-you do it!"

Andrea nodded slowly, meaningfully, licking her lips with her tongue. She gripped Dick's cock with her hand and slowly stretched out with her fingers to brush the sensitive skin of his balls.

"That's what I meant, Dick, when the right man gets me hot, then nothing is idle! Nothing! My mouth, my tongue, my cunt, my ass! Anything you want! Shoot your come in my belly button, baby, I want you to do everything that will make you happy!"

"I knew you sucked," Dick whispered. "It was the way you opened your mouth when we were talking in my office. Funny that I should feel it so strongly. That's what I meant at dinner about my being really nothing but a big pair of balls! Hot balls! Balls ready to explode into action as soon as the right person with the right combination of beauty and brains plugs into my circuit. I make a lot of money, Andrea."

"I know you do, Dick," she assured him. "I know you do."

"I'd make my money by choosing the type of sex appeal for each product. I've only failed once."

"I don't believe that, Dick, not you-you couldn't fail."

He smiled. "I consider it a failure. Our company was shooting a film commercial for a breakfast food. They wanted a beautiful young girl with sex appeal, of course. This beautiful young blonde was supposed to represent the product. Well, Andrea, I failed. I never found the girl to fit the bill."

"Never?"

"Not until you," he replied. "You're the perfect girl, Andrea, but it's too late now. The commercial was shot six months ago. But that's not the point of the story. I didn't tell you about that because the commercial's already sold. The whole point is the product. The breakfast food. I never thought that anywhere in the world would any girl come up to these specific qualifications ... Total! That's exactly what I was looking for in sex! Total! Everything! But I thought that was a dream, a fantasy. That was wild and improbable. And then I met you."

"I always knew someday I'd meet you, Dick, really I did! I always knew that someday the right man would come along, and then it would happen fast and furious, and very, very real. That's what I knew. I knew it in all of my body, all of my being. I knew that he'd be turned on by everything about

"I am," Dick whispered. "Everything you've ever done. Thought about. Everything we'll do together."

"I know, I know," agreed Andrea. "That's why I'd always fuck in taxicabs-oh, Dick, don't laugh. I know that this may sound silly but I want you to hear it."

"I'm not laughing," he assured her. "More than anything I want to know everything, everything all at once. I'm as silly as you, and as wild and as hot, almost ready to come."

"Not yet," Andrea whispered sharply. Slowing down her stroke to prolong his pleasure. "I can't let you come yet. That's the difference between you and the other men in my life."

"Were there many men?" Dick asked. "Tell me the truth."

"Of course, silly, I'll always tell you the truth," smiled Andrea, holding his cock in a firm, motionless grip. "I had lots of men. More than I can count. Much, much more. Maybe a thousand. That's how many."

"A thousand?"

Andrea nodded. "At least."

"That's incredible!"

"It was beautiful," Andrea explained. "It was the most beautiful time of my life. But it's over now. That was just a stage. Something I had to pass through. I don't know if I can explain it well. But anything in tight pants would turn me on. Where I could see the snug fit of a cock in the crotch of a pair of trousers or the way a man walked, I would get turned on. The swing of his hips, perhaps; anything. There were so many different erotic sensations always racing through me. I was so hot. Ready to do anything. And the more the better..." Dick's balls tightened.

"I can't hold it," gasped Dick. The pressure of his orgasm tightened his muscles. He was short of breath and gasping.

Andrea leaned over and squeezed his cock spasmodically. She placed her mouth on top of his and licked his tongue ferociously as he shot his semen into her palm.

"Andrea," Dick screamed, "Andrea!"

"Something wrong, lady?" the driver asked from the front seat. His eyes in the rear-view mirror revealed his concern.

Andrea smiled. She knew that from his position nothing sexually specific could be seen. Her grip on Dick's penis had been cloaked by their coats. But a lot could be guessed at. And Andrea was certain that the driver was guessing. From the front seat in his position it would simply appear as if Dick and Andrea were huddled in an embrace, perhaps more intense than usually seen in public, but certainly circumspect.

"Something wrong with the gentleman, lady?

You need any help? " he asked again.

"No, thank you," Andrea replied. "The gentleman is in the best of hands. Just a coughing spell. I think you had better pay more attention to the road, don't you?"

Disdain was obvious in her voice. The rebuff was unpleasant, but deserved. The driver mumbled an apology and glued his eyes on the road ahead. Andrea smiled, certain that a little victory had been won. She was confident now that she could strip down to the skin and the driver would never turn back to look. The severity of her poise had accomplished that.

"Is that how you do it?" Dick chuckled. "You really handled him rough. like you were the English Queen. It was magnificent."

"I don't feel very English tonight. I'm much too passionate for that.' But I do feel like a Queen. A queen of Cunt. That's who I am tonight-for you."

"I'm sorry I came," Dick apologized. "It'll be awhile before I get the steam up again."

"I'll tend to the stoking," Andrea said. "I'm an expert and authority on all forms of fuel. The fast, hot blaze. The long lingering ember. That's my business, Dick. Your cock is in my hands."

"Okay," he agreed. "Figuratively, literally, actually and for real! Consider me putty you're allowed to mold."

"Up to a point," Andrea replied. "When you're ready to go for my cunt I want you to charge. I don't want you to ask for permission or to be polite or gentle. Just charge when you're ready. Jump me for the kill. Rip my legs apart. Shove your cock down my throat. I want you to do it all."

Dick nodded. His eyes were dark, intense, and unblinking as he fixed his gaze on Andrea's face.

"You're right about the cab driver," whispered Andrea. "I treated him like a dog. Yet he loved it. Most men do. That's how I've been able to have so many affairs whenever and wherever I wanted to. I never had to give a damn about pleasing anyone but myself. No one dared tell me what to do. I was a sexy queen, an imperial harlot, rich bitch and proud nympho."

"You could carry anything off, Andrea," Dick said with admiration ringing in his voice. "I know that about you already. You radiate power, Andrea, a tremendous force. I'll bet your sign is Scorpio!"

"Yes."

"I thought so!" Dick exclaimed. "The power of sexual passion is so stong in you. Really! like a volcano in constant eruption. Now my cock's stiffening again. That's something I can hardly believe, Andrea. My cock usually takes three or four hours before it can gain back its strength, but this time it has been just minutes!" She nodded.

"Minutes! That's fantastic!"

"No," Andrea stated. "As a matter-of-fact, Dick, your cock responds to me because I turn on to you so intensely. More intensely than to all those thousand men put together. That's what I've been trying to tell you. How similar we are. Both of us always looking for totality. And expecting it to come."

"I didn't," Andrea said proudly. "I'd do whoever I was with in a cab, Dick, really just to get it over with. If I went with a man to his apartment I looked on that as a few hours of wasted time. Hours and time I could never afford to waste. Not with both kids to take care of. So I trained myself to have sex fast. To distill it down to the rare pure essence of fuck. Nothing else. Not even bothering to go through all the routine bullshit of talk that dull ordinary people use to wrap around themselves."

"Incredible," Dick whispered. "You're so right."

"I know," Andrea agreed. "I knew it immediately. I had the time to have ten or fifteen affairs a day. And I mean full, passionate, consummated affairs. And I went all the way. Any one of those men I fucked and sucked could have been the one, the special one I've always been looking for."

"Always?"

"Yes," she murmured. "My total man." Dick grinned. "Like the breakfast food."

"Uhmmm," Andrea smiled. "So I could eat him."

"That's what I want."

"I know."

"And I want everything," Dick said passionately. "Everything at the same time. I want to sit on your belly and squeeze my cock between your tits. I want to lick your whole body, from your nipples to your toes. I want to fuck you on the floor, in a chair, and standing up. Even on the ceiling if I could. I want to take pictures of you."

"Pictures?"

"Special poses. Things I can only guess at now. But I want pictures of you I can carry around in my wallet. Pictures I can look at when you're not around. Things that will make me think of you. Lot of things. Maybe even pictures of you all tied up.

Andrea nodded. "In rubber?"

"All of you in rubber!" Dick moaned. "That's exactly what I mean. In heels. With a whip. And a cruel look on your face. That's it, Andrea, that's the kind of pictures I want of you."

"Everything, Dick, don't worry," Andrea grinned, "all and everything!"

CHAPTER EIGHT

FUCK THE DONKEY

"No!" Leo screamed. "I do not want you to ride the donkey!"

"What then?" the girl asked. "What am I supposed to do with a donkey?"

Leo stalked from his seat in the orchestra, shouting curse words at the top of his voice. Billy grinned. He was on stage with half-a-dozen young actresses. They were lithe, naked bodies from Leo's point-of-view. Forming a semi-circle. Surrounding the donkey and Billy.

"But I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this awful old donkey," complained the girl who had been attempting to mount the animal. "I'm not an acrobat. You're the director. You have to tell me what you want."

"Okay," Leo shouted. Scrambling up the steps from the orchestra pit to the level of the stage. "Wait'll I get there!"

A buzz of talk from the girls beside Billy drew his attention. The girls spoke in whispers. like most professional actresses they were intent on keeping their thoughts secret from the director. That Billy was eavesdropping was of no concern. He was only an actor from their point-of-view.

"Would you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you do what she's going to do?"

"How do you know what he wants her to do?"

"That's obvious."

"What?"

"He wants her to fuck the donkey."

"You're kidding, you're kidding, you got to be kidding!"

"On top of the donkey?"

"He told her to get off the donkey."

"The donkey is supposed to be on top of her."

"That donkey?"

"The scene is from "The Golden Ass' a classic Romay play."

"Maybe that's where the scene is from, but that donkey came straight out of the zoo."

"It would be alright symbolically. If they dressed an actor up in a donkey skin. You know what I mean. If he was human. Then it would be alright to do."

"I'm going to quit if we're supposed to actually do it. Bird, beast, or fowl. Even an actor. My husband'll kill me if he ever catches me at it again. You know that Greek play last year with the orgy they had in the last act. I had to wear a mask. Just to keep my husband from finding out."

"I've never done it before."

"Never?"

"In a play."

"You'll learn."

"Do they really stick their things inside you."

"Don't worry about them, honey, worry about that goddam donkey."

"What do you mean?"

"If he's up to donkey tricks in the first act, what do you suppose he's got in mind for a climax?"

"An elephant," Billy interjected. "I know because I read the script."

"You're kidding, you're kidding, you got to be kidding!"

"Did you really read the script?"

Billy nodded. "Yes."

"What kind of scene is this we're all in?"

"Is she really supposed to fuck that mule?"

"Is it an orgy?"

"What's next?"

Billy held up his hands. Cutting off their questions. "One at a time, or else I can't answer you. This scene that we're all in together is a parody. It's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, except that I play Snow White and you girls play the Dwarfs."

"Then why did I shave the hair on my pussy? I didn't know you wanted a beard!"

"QUIET!" Leo was glaring furiously. "You actors are a bunch of pricks! How about having some respect for each other? I'm trying to set a very difficult piece of business for this young lady and all we hear is a lot of goddam noise and gossip! Especially you, Billy, I thought you had a lot more sense!"

Billy blushed furiously. Leo was right. He had no excuses to offer. One of the cardinal rules of the theatre is the necessity for quiet backstage.

Certainly the circumstances were unusual. Neither Billy nor the girls had ever acted in the nude before. A certain amount of shyness had to be overcome. That, perhaps more than anything else, accounted for the nervous hilarity of the actor's voices that had carried on stage.

But Leo was furious. The "circus" he envisaged was a totally new concept of theatre and a radical form of stage presentation. Sex in various forms had always been a basic principle of the dramatic event. Recent years had emphasized this. Leo's concept was radical in that it included the audience.

As he remembered the circus from his childhood his keenest desire had been to join in with the acrobats and the clowns, the monkeys and the apes, particularly for the Grand Finale, which was always a vast triumphal march. Assuming that this desire to participate was a universal experience, Leo patterned his concept for "The theatre of Sexual Expression" to include the audience.

To visualize a mass orgy at the climax of his play was more easily said than done. That was up to the actors. Natural barriers of reticence and modesty had to be shattered. These barriers existed both in the actor and the audience.

"Insurmountable!"

"Impossible!"

"You'll never succeed!"

"Get out of my office with that cockamamie idea!"

"Up your ass with a piece of glass!"

"Use your own money!"

This was a fair sampling of opinion in the theatrical world when Leo first broached his idea to a number of prominent investors and men who had been known to gamble considerable financial resources on a number of dubious ventures. Some of them had backed Leo's efforts before-plays he had produced in previous seasons.

This time the response was all negative. Men whose money Leo had depended upon claimed their pockets were dry. Most of them agreed that a sex-spectacular seemed like a highly commercial idea. They even felt the concept of a circus was highly original and effective. Three simultaneous rings of action should certainly bring out the crowds. But the "action" itself was what terrified the backers and forced them to close their accounts.

"Let me see if I get the picture, Leo, I want to be fair to you before I say no-no money, Leo, that's the size of it, I'm afraid. First of all the amount of dough you'd need to mount a circus this size is fantastic. Say you get the money. Then you need actors. You can't use just any actors who are willing to fuck and suck and play with each other in public-the streets are full of those. You need beautiful bodies. Glamourous faces. Kings and Queens of the stage. If you were doing just a sordid sex play then I'd be glad to put up your money. People would flock to it. We'd make a fortune. But something as lavish and beautiful as you envision would not only cost a fortune but would require spectacularly lovely people."

"That's only one problem you'd have to overcome. Another is more difficult. For two-and-a-half hours those actors would have to portray, simultaneously, every imaginable form of sexual activity known to the human race. What you'll need is not a troupe of actors but an army of freaks."

"Two-and-a-half hours of fucking and sucking. The police certainly aren't going to sit still for that. They'll bust the joint on opening night. But, okay, for the sake of an argument, let's say the police situation doesn't exist-you are still left with the problem of the finale. How do you close an extravaganza like this? What do you do to climax the show?"

"An orgy?"

"Okay! Say it's an orgy! That's fine with me. All of the actors making it? No! Of course not! We've seen them doing it all night. We need something new and different! Novel and exciting! What?"

"Fuck the audience?"

"The actors invite the audience down to join them on stage. To do their thing. Any way at all. In other words, for the price of a ticket a member of the audience not only gets to see the show but also an opportunity to fuck the leading man, or lady-that's your idea, Leo, isn't that it?"

"Well, what can I say to you, kid, except that I love it. I really love it. I'd buy a ticket any time. But invest my dough in your show? No! I couldn't do that, Leo, to me it looks like it is absolutely impossible to do!"

"Impossible!" That was the one word reply.

For six long and discouraging months Leo had an infinite number of variations played on a similar theme. It was "Use your own money!"

Leo refused to give up. he scrounged small sums from small investors in a relentless effort. Now, finally, it was all on the verge of becoming a reality.

"You bastards!" Leo snarled. His face livid with fury, he stalked toward the naked huddle of actors, spitting his words in a flow of venom. "To hell with me! I only sweated blood and tears and guts for six fucking months to raise the money to put this show on the stage, that's all, six fucking months of my life! So what? That doesn't count! I don't expect any gratitude from a fucking naked ape!"

"Leo..."

"Shut up!"

"Please," Billy persisted, attempting to apologize. "None of us meant to belittle you or your efforts on behalf of this project."

"Shit!" Leo sneered. "I don't give a fuck what you think about me. I'm talking about your fellow performer. That little girl out there on the stage now. She's got to open the show. All alone with that donkey in the center ring of the circus. You think that's easy? One, two, three-boom, boom, boom! Is that all you think it is?"

A murmur of "No!" swept through the huddle.

"I should hope not," Leo said. A note of relief rang in his voice. "That little girl out there has got more courage than I've ever seen in an actor, or actress, before today-and that's the truth! Not many professional prostitutes would dare to attempt the act she's going to do!"

An audible gasp was heard from the stage. Leo's mention of "prostitute" had driven the point home. What had been the speculation of gossip was now confirmed as fact. It was as they suspected. The donkey and the girl fucking would open the show.

"Forgive me for shouting." Leo muted his voice. "Maybe it's better for all of us to blow off a little steam now and then. That's something we'll have to expect during the next few intensive weeks of rehearsal. All of us will be attempting the impossible. Using our energy to the limit. And more intimately with each other than any other experience in our lives." Leo paused. "I know that's a lot to ask for. Perhaps too much. Especially since the grand finale of this extravaganza will require all of us to participate with the audience too."

One of the girls gasped.

"That's right," Leo said. "That amounts to an orgy. Wilder than anything ever attempted before, anywhere. All the other words I could use for this you know, like fucking and sucking. Let's be frank with each other. That's what it amounts to."

"You mean perfect strangers?" one of the girls asked. She was a heavy-set brunette, with an ample bust like ripe melons. Her nipples shivered as she spoke. "I don't mind doing it with anybody in the show. That's legitimate, if you know what I mean. My agent told me that's what this play is all about, so I sort of expected it. But no one said anything to me about having to let anybody in the audience do it to me too. That's what you mean by an orgy?"

"Yes," Leo replied. "More than an orgy, a saturnalia. That's the wildest Roman orgy of all. Everyone in the entire city could join in, everywhere. On the streets-in the bath-anywhere. Everyone had access to everyone else. For one day the entire city went mad. There were no laws, no morals, no crime, no vice-anything was allowed, even murder, rape and death!"

"Get out of here!" the brunette shrieked. "I'm not going to be in your crazy show!"

"Baby," Billy laughed, "don't jump to conclusions! I'm sure Leo doesn't mean we're supposed to start killing each other for real!"

"I wouldn't be surprised," interjected a sultry Spanish girl. "Remember me, Billy, Conchita Valdez, we met at a party after Leo's last play closed?"

Billy nodded.

"I was in that play," Conchita explained. "So I've worked with Leo before. Obviously I love him or else I wouldn't be here in this crazy thing! Has anybody else here ever worked for Leo before?"

"No ... no ... no ... no..."

"Leo means everything he says," Conchita explained, "when he says it! He also exaggerates fantastically. What he means about the orgy at the end of the play is the exact truth. And I think it's the most daringly different original idea in the history of the theatre. Nothing like it's been attempted before. We can fuck the audience or they can fuck us. That's absolute equality."

"Right!" Leo shouted. "That's what I mean!"

"He's a genius," Billy whispered to the brunette. "That's what they're like. They're just children in a way. They seem to like to think about everything at the same time. Especially sex."

The brunette nodded. "Then this guy must be the supreme genius of all time! I never heard so much bullshit in my life!"

CHAPTER NINE

A HOUSE THAT'S A HOME

The cab pulled to a stop.

Metal gates glimmered in the moonlight. The street to which Dick Finch had given the cab driver directions was a small cul-de-sac off the main road. It was easily obscured by the massive buildings on either side of the metal gate.

Dick paid the driver and they got out of the cab.

Through the gate Andrea saw a short roadway that led to a dead end about a hundred yards away. No cars were parked on the roadway. The gate blocked any vehicular traffic. "The residents decided to keep the cars out," Dick explained. "It was the only way we could think of to preserve the 19th Century charm of this place."

Andrea turned, glancing back the other way. Across the street towered the dark Gothic walls of the prison. A grim vision on a dark night. The windows were blank. like blind eyes, pleading for the sun. "All those unfortunate women!" Andrea shuddered. "Caged like animals."

"Our society," Dick said bitterly, "and yet we managed to go to the moon."

Andrea nodded. She took a deep breath. Shaking off the oppressive sensation of doom that had suddenly seemed to overwhelm her. With a forced smile she turned inward. Toward the charming little street Dick had taken them to.

"I never knew such lovely little spots still remained in this dark and dirty city."

"Not many," Dick replied. "Not many at all."

"Which house?"

"Third from the right."

"Number Three?"

He smiled. "Let me show you."

The house was small, but size was unimportant. It was the fact that it was a house that made it such a rare luxury in the midst of an overcrowded congested metropolis. Dick had only recently purchased the place. The upper two floors were still in the process of renovation.

"First, I'll show you the parlor floor."

Two rooms were separated by a modern kitchen. The kitchen was small but efficient. Once the upper floors were ready for occupancy, Dick planned to expand the kitchen, converting the parlor floor to a dining room. "It will be overlooking the garden, but you can't get a good view of that now. We'll have to wait until morning."

Andrea smiled.

"Come downstairs."

She followed him to a staircase. Admiring a natural brick wall that flanked the descending corridor, she asked, "You didn't have an interior decorator do this, did you?"

Dick laughed. "Of course not!"

"I knew that," Andrea smiled. "I can feel the things you like."

Downstairs was the bedroom. All of it. What had been subdivided previously into a three-room apartment had been converted by Dick into a mammoth king-sized bed chamber. Only one piece of furniture dominated the room, and that was the bed. It was a huge bed, positioned in the exact center of the room.

"It's beautiful," Andrea said breathlessly.

"I've never been so turned on by a room before. Oh, Dick, I can really feel you in here!"

He smiled, sitting down and sprawling across the bed. "Come over here next to me," he beckoned. "I want to feel you beside me."

"Wait," Andrea whispered. A slow sultry smile created an evocative expression on her face. "I want you to see me first-all of me."

Dick's eyes widened.

With a swift gesture, Andrea flung her coat across the room. It was useless, merely an encumbrance restricting the free movements of her supple limbs. The dress she was wearing was a flimsy silk garment, catching reflections of light from the muted red glow of the bedside table and whirling sparklers of color throughout the room. The effect was extraordinary. One of those inexplicable combinations of circumstance that electrify the atmosphere.

"I want you badly," Dick murmured. His voice was a throaty whisper. "I want to feel the inside of your cunt."

"With your tongue?" Andrea asked. "I like a man to tongue my cunt."

"With my tongue," Dick nodded. "With everything-my fingers, my cock. God, Andrea, I want to do everything to you at the same time. All at once! And everything!"

"Get undressed," she commanded. "Slowly. I want you to strip too. A man's body is just as exciting as a woman's. Remember, baby, you're not the only one who--likes to look at pictures."

Dick unbuttoned his shirt, with Andrea seated at the edge of the bed watching every gesture intently. Dick shivered. He could feel the excitement radiating from her eyes and burning into him. A warm sensation of lust arose in the pit of his stomach.

Fire erupted from Andrea's glance, scorching him with her eyes. Dick felt the moisture of sweat congeal in the small of his back.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered breathlessly. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I've never ... oh, Andrea, I've never felt like this before--never!"

He reached out to touch her hand. But she evaded his grip.

"No, Dick, all your clothes! I want to see you naked!"

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. "I must be babbling like a fool, Andrea. Maybe I'm drunk with all that wine and brandy we had for dinner. Colors seem to be exploding in my head. I don't know whether I want to laugh or cry, but I seem to want to do everything."

"Pants," Andrea pointed. "Take your pants off!"

Dick nodded. Swiftly unlatching the clasp of his belt and unzipping his fly, he propped himself up on one hip to facilitate the maneuver as he slid his trousers down.

"Slowly!" Andrea commanded. "Do it slowly."

Dick complied.

"Yes," Andrea murmured. "That's what I want to see. The way your skin looks now. In this light, with a rosy hue. It's delicious--so very delicious. I could eat you, Dick. Oh, how I'd love to put my mouth and tongue all over your body and taste all of you on my tongue-on my lips-in my mouth."

The whispered half-phrases reaching his ears sent spasms of electric excitement thrilling through his nerves.

Dick kicked off his pants, eagerly watching her face as he revealed the bulge in his shorts. "Hard?"

"Very hard," he replied. "I swear, Andrea, I really swear that my cock has never felt this hard before in my entire life. I can't believe that only a few minutes ago, in that cab, I was coming in your hand. Shooting my load! In your hand! And now I'm harder than ever, Andrea, harder than I've ever been in my life!"

She smiled. "Underpants, Dick. I want to see all of you!"

He closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he had to fight off a sensation of vertigo. No sexual experience in his life had ever had this effect on him.

He was out of balance. Disjointed. He realized he was babbling. That bothered him the most. The feeling of being a baby. Words and half-formed thoughts were dribbling out of his mouth, things he had never thought of before. There were thoughts he had never expressed, sensations he had never experienced, desires he had never felt.

The images of fire and burning seemed to blaze anew in his mind. Andrea's hand reached out to touch him. He felt as if her fingers were jets of flame, sizzling his skin, branding him like a witch.

It seemed as if he was swept into a whirlpool of a weird occult power. A force that burnt away all traces of himself. Nothing but ash and bone was left; the sensation of incense. Her mouth dissolving his flesh.

She's sucking my cock!

A tiny voice screamed in his ear. He heard the voice. Recognizing the sound, he heard his own voice. like a recording on tape. Dick Finch was narrating reality. Waves of sensation drowned out the words. All he could hear was a muffled scream.

Her mouth clamped onto his cock, welding the skin of it with fire and ice. Alternate sensations seized him. His hands gripped her head, her back, shoulder blades.

His hips were rocking back and forth in a paroxysm of ecstasy. Epileptic convulsions shuddered throughout his body.

His legs jerked apart. The boiling rumble of a volcano burst through his being.

Her mouth seized his cock hard, held it, sucked it, squeezed it, milked it, drawing more and more of the savory fluid up from the essence of his being. Up! Up! Squirting! Spraying! A deluge of semen spewed forth into her mouth!

Dick screamed!

Black. Darkness. A cloud descended and separated him from thought and feeling. Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? A small voice dwindled in a dismal corner of his mind until the lights went out.

"Dick..." He blinked.

He stirred slowly, the sensation of life returning to him. His limbs ached, as if some violent exertion had strained every muscle and fibre of his body-back, thighs, pelvis. He stretched and yawned. Dick opened his eyes.

"Andrea?"

She smiled.

He propped himself up on an elbow. He blinked again, forcing reality to come back into focus. He tasted his mouth. It was dry, acrid and slightly bitter. It was the taste of too much wine.

"How do you feel?"

His stomach rumbled. A belch making its way up from the lower intestine, gas near his ribs, heart-burn. The sauce on the duck he had eaten for dinner had been too rich.

"The whole meal was too heavy."

He gasped. That was his first thought. Andrea had seemingly read his mind. Expressing his thoughts before he could utter them. "Andrea..."

"Sshhh," she whispered, putting her finger to his lips. "Words aren't necessary, Dick. We don't need to use them."

He looked at her. Awe and wonder were like flickering lights that crossed his face. It was so obviously true. Nothing need be said or done. He realized that she was naked too.

A moment before, as Dick recalled, he had been stripping off his trousers while Andrea had been perched on the side of the bed. She had been clothed in a flimsy silk garment.

Then, only blackness and a ... sensation of sucking. Now they were both completely nude, stretched out together in a rumpled tangle of sheets.

How to put it all together?

He felt he owed himself the attempt. He wanted to retrace the route they had followed. A tangential trail of circumstance. But what's the point, Andrea seemed to say, her voice somehow spoke from within his mind. What's the point of trying to remember? He nodded. Wanting to agree with her, but...

"Thinking about the taxi?"

He nodded.

"That's all right, baby," Andrea whispered, stroking his face. "We were both a little drunk and we said a lot of drunken, silly things to each other, but that doesn't matter, Dick. Look how we got each other hot enough to be this close! That's all that's ever going to be important right here."

Andrea's hand descended to his cock. The moment her finger touched his penis Dick felt a spasm of desire grip his stomach like a balled fist. Intense! Jolting him back on the bed.

The reaction to the mere touch of her finger was as if he had been punched by a heavyweight directly in the solar plexus. He blinked. Tears formed in his eyes, as he felt the blood race through his system. His heart pounded like an electric jackhammer.

Not even LSD (which he had taken more than once) created such an hallucinogenic effect. Nor had any aphrodisiac ever stimulated his glands, not like this. The gentle touch of Andrea's fingers quivered through his body with a renewal of absolute sexual desire.

"Fuck me!"

He felt his body raise gracefully in the air. He was in slow motion. like a dancer, he raised himself onto one elbow and looked down at her face.

His eyes fell into her smile. Her glance enveloped him. Over her thigh he swung his body, like a heron on a wind-swept beach gliding down to land in the surf.

Poised on his knees, her cunt opened to the pressure of his penis. He moved forward-endlessly forward. His cock seemed to glide through a garden of violet shrubs. Trees parted and he descended into a pink valley. Part of his sensation was aware of her cunt as a muscle reaching out to engulf him. Other sensations were sharp and staccato. Time bounced on his elbows.

Fucking. . .

Effortlessly, until all of his prick was encased in the velvet warm scabbard of her pussy. His cock was enshrined in her body. A distant strain of music seemed to filter through his ears.

A rhythm, a tide, a melody, and a chorus. Both bodies began to move, mating and meeting; melting and melding. Each face was glued on the other. Energy crackled. Sparks fizzled. Around them the 4th of July was ready to explode.

On they fucked-like the eye of the hurricane. Feeling themselves lashed by the tempestuous winds of lust. Scourged by the tidal waves rippling from the ocean floor. Fossils, chambers and shells.

Dick screamed! like a salmon upstream. Water was Andrea whirling in a pool. Her cunt was a vacuum. One after another.

"NOW."

"NOW!" they screamed together: dying in the juice of their come ... arms entwined in the grip of sleep: exhaustion severing the nerve.

CHAPTER TEN

MIMOSA MAKES A DECISION

"Did you have a good rehearsal?"

Mimosa was curled up on his bed.

"Life is a rehearsal," Billy replied. "Get the fuck out of my bed and into your own goddam room!"

"I am not in your bed," responded Mimosa, "therefore, I cannot get out of your bed. I am on it instead."

"Well, then, get off!"

"Don't be abrasive," Mimosa sat up. "Your voice sounds like a squirrel when you screech. Good actors must be resonant. like a pool cue. Why don't you dust your throat?"

"Funny, funny, funny," Billy snapped. Collapsing beside her and stretching out, "What are you doing here anyway? Hoping you'll get laid by mistake?"

"Silly Billy," Mimosa quipped. "You know you're the horny old goat trying to climb into my ass. Stop trying to pass the blame on to me."

"That'll be the day," he muttered "I'd rather jerk off in the bathroom reading the label on a box of sanitary napkins."

"Try the illustrations," Mimosa suggested. "I'll give you some crayons and you can color them in."

"What brings about this display of wit at two o'clock in the morning?" Billy asked. "And in my bed, no less," he added.

"Of all places!" Mimosa giggled. "Thought you might be comforted to hear that I was sniffing your sheets. That wouldn't be true, so don't bother to think that."

"I won't!"

"I was practicing my witchcraft."

"In my bed?"

"Of course, in your bed, Billy. A good witch has to be in contact with the environment of the person she's busy witching. That stands to reason. It helps the concentration. Here in your room on your bed all I can do is think of you and that helps me focus my powers."

"Your powers?"

"My powers!"

"What am I?" Billy snorted. "A little clay doll you intend to stick up with pins?"

"Oh, no, Billy, dear, don't make yourself more important than you are," Mimosa said disdainfully. "I only needed you to get through to another person along the line."

"Oh," Billy muttered, "I'm just a transfer point."

Mimosa nodded. "Exactly. Useless yourself, but necessary for me to fulfill my objective."

"Who were you bitching?" Billy asked. "Oh, I'm sorry, who were you witching?"

"Leo," she replied pertly. "The fat genius of the American Theatre."

Billy laughed. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"He should!" Mimosa emphasized. "My efforts will probably keep him from harm."

"What are your efforts and what's the harm? Or do they both go together? That's what I would think! A brat like you is a menace to the world we live in!"

"Probably true," Mimosa agreed.

Billy grinned. "Wow! At last! One thing we agree on!

He yawned. Stretching his arms. He was enjoying the banter. It was a pleasant way to relax after six hours of intensive rehearsal. "What's your interest in Leo?"

"Sexual."

Billy laughed.

"I don't think that's so funny," Mimosa said sharply. "It happens to be the first adult decision I've made in my life and I would like it to be treated with respect."

"Adult decision!" Billy held his stomach until the fit of laughter subsided. "You're a crazy loon!"

"I intend to participate in sexual intercourse. I think that happens to be an adult decision."

"From anyone but you!" Billy exclaimed. "What brought you around to your decision? Leo hasn't been here in a couple of weeks. Not since Andrea threw him out."

"She was jealous."

"What do you mean?"

"Nincompoop! Andrea wants to see you on television and Leo wants you on the stage. They're both at cross purposes. Naturally, Andrea is jealous."

"Upset, sure, but not jealous!"

Mimosa snorted.

"Anyway, that's beside the point," Billy said abruptly. "How come you picked on Leo? His dirty play get you all hot and bothered?"

"No," Mimosa replied. A sly grin flickered at the corner of her mouth. "The play is trivial."

"The body of a fat genius?"

Mimosa shook her head. Physically, I don't expect much. Not that Leo won't try. I'm sure he will. But I don't think his mind is up to any sustained effort. And he's certainly not in any physical shape to do a good job of it."

"Now you've got me interested," admitted Billy. "If all that's true, Mimosa, why'd you decide on him?"

"Because he's dirty," she explained. "He's got such a dirty mind. Hell love it! To Leo the very idea of screwing your sister is practically enough to make him come in his pants!"

Billy burst into laughter.

"Isn't that true?"

Billy nodded.

"That's right," Mimosa continued. "I think it was a very wise choice on my part."

"So that's what you've been doing here on the bed all night? Sending out zap rays to lure Leo back to your bed? Gee, sis," Billy added with mock concern, "you should have told me this earlier and I would have done my share to help you out! Maybe invite him home for dinner? Is that what you want me to do?"

"No, thank you," Mimosa replied. "I'm quite good as a witch. I don't need your help."

"Nothing I can do?"

Mimosa smiled and shook her head.

"Okay, squirt, lift your fanny in that case and drag your ass off to bed. I'm very tired. It was a tough rehearsal, and now I'm ready for the sack."

"Rehearsal?" Mimosa asked sharply. "But you said tonight was an audition. That's what you told Andrea."

Billy nodded. "It seemed like a rehearsal because it took so long. Your fat genius of a boy friend can sometimes be a long-winded bore!"

"Billy," grinned Mimosa, "you are so full of shit it stinks in the hall!"

Billy laughed. "Right! You know better than me. Okay, since it was a rehearsal, go to bed and let me sleep. Okay?"

"I know it was a rehearsal, darling brother, not because of your slip of the tongue, but through the use of my ear and extension telephone in the kitchen. Shall I repeat the address Leo gave you, and his instructions about the donkey and the goat?"

Billy lashed out, aiming a slap at her head, but Mimosa ducked. She slipped past his reach, rolling off the side of the bed and stood triumphantly on her feet.

"Fuck you, Billy!"

"You bitch!"

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me," Mimosa sang out.

"Shut up!" Billy hissed. "If you wake up Andrea, I'll kill you!"

"Wake her up?" Mimosa chortled. "She's not even home yet!"

"What?"

"Little brother," Mimosa crooned. "How innocent you are! Our big sister has female glands. Every now and then she has to use them. It wouldn't be fair if you had the monopoly!"

Billy took a deep breath. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said, sweetheart, I'll see you on the morrow, my little angel lamb," Mimosa prattled as she ducked out the door.

Just in time too, to avoid a book Billy hurled through the air. The book hit the door and bounced on the floor. Billy glanced at the title: SEX & WITCHCRAFT. He scratched his head. Dimly, he remembered having seen a copy of this book before.

Andrea ... that was it!

She had bought it for herself. A long time ago, as Billy remembered, back before the accident that summer when the speedboat overturned and drowned the adults in the family. In those days, Andrea had carried the book everywhere. It was sort of a bible to her, which Billy would scoff at.

"I wonder where the hell Mimosa dug this up?" Billy muttered aloud, a frown of concern on his face. His younger sister has enough trouble as it is. He hoped she wasn't entering an occult phase.

Andrea...

That was the problem. Billy didn't want her to learn of the rehearsals. Not yet. When her wrath was aroused, Andrea was like a hurricane. Ready to destroy anything in her path. The best thing, Billy had decided, was gradually to let the "circus" ripen in her mind.

As long as Andrea believed Billy was sincere about looking for a TV job, then she could be reluctantly persuaded to accept the reality of Billy acting in an off-Broadway play. The "faggot" angle was a good one.

Billy had noticed that. Andrea was probably out with Dick Finch now. "I wonder if he is queer," Billy said aloud. Realizing for the first time that he had been taking for granted a lot of rumors that might not have any basis in fact. like Dick Finch. Everyone always said he was queer. But what if he wasn't. . . ?

Billy sat up.

A perturbed expression crossed his brow. Billy had always assumed Andrea was naive. Incapable of spotting the subtle distinction between a "closet queen" and a simple, shy guy. He glanced at his watch. Ten after three.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

"What're you going to do with the goddamn donkey?"

Leo scratched his head.

"You better decide what you will do with that donkey in the next five minutes," Conchita threatened, "or else you will be missing one hot-blooded whore who loves to fuck!"

"Shut up!"

She shook her head furiously. "I said nothing when you sold our furniture. I said nothing when you rented this over-priced barn. I said nothing when you fucked all those actresses who came up to audition for the show. I say nothing now when our bed is a mattress on a broken stage."

"That's a helluva lot of nothing," muttered Leo. "I can't hear myself think!"

"But I will say something," continued Conchita, her voice rising in anger. "I will have plenty to say if you expect me to share my bed with you and that fucking donkey!"

"First of all," Leo pointed out, "the donkey doesn't fuck. At least not people. Maybe other donkeys, but not people. And you know that as well as I do, Conchita, my Queen. We spent all night trying to get him to stuff his tool into that little girl's crack, and he just wouldn't do it. Christ! He brayed so loud I shit on the floor."

"You will sleep on the floor with your donkey," Conchita shouted. "I don't want him to sit on the bed!"

"Don't tell me!" Leo roared. "Tell the donkey!"

The donkey was sitting on the bed. Conchita was in front, pulling on the bridle. Leo was at the rear, shoving his ass.

They had been pushing and pulling for the past half-hour. So far they had had no effect on the donkey. He continued to sit on the bed.

"You push," Leo suggested, "and I'll pull."

"We already tried that," Conchita complained. "Don't you know anything about donkeys?"

"No!" Leo shouted. "Do I look like a farmer? I grew up in the city. For all I know this could be a cow!"

"Make the donkey do something!" Conchita shouted back. "Get a stick and beat it!"

"You get a stick and beat it and I'll beat you! This goddamn donkey cost me two hundred dollars and he won't even fuck like he's supposed to! I don't want to mark an inch of his skin. The son-of-a-bitch who sold him to me is gonna get this beast back in the same condition he sold him."

"Bueno! But what about tonight? We can't go to sleep in the bed if he's going to be sitting on top of it."

"I know that! That's obvious ... Conchita!" Leo screamed-a cackle of joy. The donkey had moved. Suddenly he rose up from the bed and ambled off to the far side of the stage where Leo had prepared a bucket of carrots. Dinner for the donkey.

"He's hungry! He's hungry!"

"Quick," Conchita shouted. Stripping her clothes off. "Let's get into bed before he comes back!"

"Right!" Leo yelled. "That's the first good idea you've ever had in your whole fucking life!"

"While the worst idea I ever had was shacking with you," snarled Conchita. "Fat genius! My ass! If my mother ever saw me now. In Cuba we lived in a palace. Rich off the sweat from a peasant's brow. Now, here I am, sleeping on a dirty mattress on the filthy stage of a deserted theatre just because you, you prick, want to go back to your childhood and be a clown in the circus."

"I had no sex in my childhood," Leo said. "This kind of circus is for grown-ups!"

"It might as well be for children," Conchita complained. "That donkey is only good for giving kids a ride."

Leo stepped out of his pants. "That's true," he said thoughtfully. "But I don't understand it. We tickled his cock. That fat girl licked it. Even got him to straddle the hole. Why didn't he put it in?"

"Don't ask me!" Conchita snarled. "Do you think I know why donkeys fuck!"

"You have an opinion about everything else!"

"Because I'm not dumb," Conchita shouted. "I'm not so dumb as to put two hundred dollars to buy a used animal without even testing it first."

"How could I do that?" Leo demanded. "Can you just ask a guy from the zoo if his donkey--likes to fuck girls? To hell with it, baby, I shall resolve it all in the morning. Roll over my way and give me a piece of your ass! At least I know what to do with my cock!"

"I have my period."

"So what?"

"We'll get blood all over," Conchita complained.

"Over what?" Leo asked. "This mattress? After a donkey has been sitting here with his ass for an hour you're going to complain about human blood?"

"I don't want to."

"Okay, okay, suck my cock."

"I can't."

"You can't?"

"I have gingivitis. My gums are swollen. The dentist said I shouldn't."

"You asked him?"

"Of course I asked him! He knows I live with a pervert like you!"

"Pervert, huh? Okay, up shit's creek, unless you've got piles?"

"Oh," moaned Conchita. "You can do it that way. But gently, you pig, and use some cream!"

"Only the best," Leo muttered. He coughed up a glob of phlegm from his throat and spit it out onto his fingertips. Reaching for her ass he inserted his soggy fingers into the tautened anal cavity. Conchita squirmed. "Hold still!"

"Bitten in the ass by a rattlesnake and he expects me to hold still!"

Slipping one arm under her waist Leo hefted her body into position. He was poised directly behind her. Using his other hand he felt his way between her thighs until he found the fold of skin that harbored her clitoris. He rotated his finger rapidly. Conchita was Cuban. The response was immediate. She began to breathe rapidly. Rocking back and forth on her knees.

Leo wedged his cock between the cheeks of her ass.

Conchita leaned back. Slowly. Leo held himself firmly in place. Conchita rocked back. Using her own hands to hold her cheeks apart. Gradually, gradually ... Leo's cock was impaled. His body fell limp. He grunted. Moaning with passion as the fierce intensity of her rectal muscles opened-and-closed like a spasmodic fist encasing his penis in a well of delight.

"CLUMP! CLUMP."

"What's that?" Conchita whispered. Halting her motion in fright. "That's the donkey!"

"I know it's the donkey!" Leo screamed. "He finished eating and he's taking a walk. Who cares about that fucking donkey? Just move your ass, you bitch, move your ass!"

"But, Leo, what if the donkey comes back to bed? What if he sees your ass in the air? What if he thinks your ass is a cunt? What if he has a hard-on? What if he..."

CHAPTER TWELVE

THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC

Dick stirred.

A gleam of sunlight protruded through the corner of his eye. He rolled on his side. It was too early. He needed sleep. A lot more sleep. His hand brushed against ... his eyes snapped open. A girl was in his bed.

Who...?

Andrea! Memory flooded his nerves. Andrea Hunt. The girl he had met in his office yesterday-dinner, drinks, and the most passionate interlude of his life had followed. Details came back to his mind. An idiotic conversation during a hectic taxi ride through the night streets of the city.

But her hand...

That had been there too. In the taxi. Stealthy. Intimate. She had reached under his coat and delicately let her hand fall into his lap. His body had tensed. Driven erotically wild by the fever pitch of their talk.

Had she said she had laid a thousand men?

With the sobriety of morning gleaming through the window at dawn, Dick thought that figure was incredible. One thousand men. A girl so lovely. And yet so pure. The intimacy of the bond between them had been of a fantastic pitch. His balls tingled.

Dick opened his eyes.

She was smiling. Lying beside him with a radiant grin. Brighter than the sun.

"Good morning, Dick," she murmured. "You look so beautiful in the morning!"

"I look beautiful?" he stammered. "Oh, Andrea, if I'm beautiful, then you're a goddess, a queen, an absolute vision!"

"No," she whispered. "Only real, and passionate. I've been waiting for you for hours."

"Waiting for me?"

She nodded. "I've hardly been able to sleep. Lying next to you, Dick, breathing the aroma of your flesh. No man has ever had this effect on my nerves before. Not like this. Not this intense. This passionate. Oh, baby, I want you." Her hand slipped across the intervening space. "I want this!"

Dick gasped.

He felt the pressure of her hand enfold his penis. His cock instantly swelled within the grip of her palm. The pulsation of pleasure began to throb in his groin. Wanting. Needing.

"Andrea," Dick whispered, "are you real? Did what I think happened really happen? Is this all a dream? Or an illusion?"

She laughed. Her voice a crystal song that seemed to trill in his ears. Adding yet another dimension to the almost unworldly excitement he felt flowing through his veins.

"I'm real!"

"God!"

"And I love you!"

"I love you, Andrea, you know I love you, now and forever!"

"Yes, Dick, I know you do!"

"Do you remember last night?"

She smiled. "Of course I do. Every minute of it. Shall I tell you the name of the wine we had for dinner? How many bites of the duck we ate? How big a rip you left with the doorman? Yes, everything was real, Dick, everything was true!"

"I feel ... " He stuttered. "Bewitched."

She smiled slowly. Lowering the sheet from her shoulder. Revealing to his enflamed eye the luscious perfection of her rounded breasts. Her skin was a delicate mold of pink and ivory. Capped in the center was the rosebud bull's eye of her hardened nipple. Andrea's arms stretched out. Her hands found Dick's face, and she drew him down.

Down. Touching her breast. His mouth encompassed the nipple. His tongue flicked. Sucking. The flesh was tender. Ripe. Responsive to the frantic tongue of his love.

"Bewitched," she repeated. "Yes, I suppose that's what I've done, I've bewitched you."

She tugged at his head. Pulling his mouth back. Away. Separating her skin from his tongue. "Down," Andrea murmured. "Into the valley and suck my cunt!" Dick gasped. Circles spun before his eyes. His cock throbbed restlessly under the ceaseless manipulations of her hand.

He shifted his weight to his hip. Swinging his legs from the rear and around. Extending his tongue, he moved his face closer. Closer. Touching her belly button. Licking a circle around the depression. And then lower. Down. Smelling the scent. The clotted aroma of cunt. Her hair was thick and golden.

"Suck my cunt!"

He plunged his mouth into the garden. Nibbling on the hair. like leaves of lettuce. He felt as if he was a Satyr running wild in the fields of Elysium. Nothing he felt was on a mortal plane. Only the succulent ecstasy of the forbidden fruit.

"Now!"

His tongue plunged into the valley. Parting the hairs as he sank to his knees at the shrine of the fertile crescent. Lapping. Licking. Running his tongue along the length of the valley. Up. Down. Sideways. Across. Whipping a froth. Sending a spasm of ecstasy flooding into her veins: erupting with ecstasy.

"My clit! My clit!"

He found it with his tongue. Teasing it out from its hiding place. Up. Out. Into the light. Dick opened his eyes. like a dream the delicate red button of her clitoris rose before him. Eager. Savage for joy. His mouth descended. Inhaling sharply. He drew the clitoris into the whole of his mouth. Sucking the erectile organ with furious gulps.

"NOW!"

Her body arched. She seized his head and thrust her hips forward. Plunging him against her groin. Screaming wildly. Her balled-up fists beating on his head, arms, shoulders: a torrent of words cascaded down around him-hysterical shouts, oaths. Her legs began to jerk. Convulsive shudders.

like a dying frog. Her arms trembled. Clasping him tightly. Finally ... finally subsiding.

Dick lifted her face.

Her cheek was wet with tears.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JACKED BY A JACKASS

"Billy?"

"Yeah. Leo?"

"I'm in the hospital."

"What?"

"Don't shout! I can hear you. I said I was in the hospital. That's where I'm calling you from. I'll be here a couple of days so you've got to do me a lot of favors. First...."

"Shut up! Wait a minute! I just woke up, Leo.

I've got to get the fog out of my brains. What time is it? Seven, seven-thirty! Good God! What the fuck are you doing in the hospital at this hour of the morning? I never even knew you to be awake this early!"

"I never got to sleep. I've been here since four last night."

"What happened?"

"An accident. Now, Billy, listen carefully. I want you..."

"Wait a minute! What kind of accident?"

"Minor injury. Nothing serious. Skip it, Billy, it's only a painful anecdote. Let's get down to more serious business. I've got these favors I want you to do for me. First of all..."

"No deal, Leo, we're friends. I hope you remember that. I want to know about your accident. Last I saw you was about one-thirty last night when you finally decided to call off the rehearsal. I left with the girls. You stayed behind with Conchita."

"That's right. I've sort of been making it with her lately and it was kind of late, so I thought she should sleep over..."

"Or, in other words, you two have been making it regularly but you're afraid it might not look good in front of the rest of the cast?"

"Practice what you preach! That's my motto. But I've never lived up to it yet. Of course, Conchita and I have been a steady duo in the sheets for the last three months. She had this lovely apartment when I met her. But I-as you may remember-I was unfortunately living in the waiting room of Grand Central Station and renting their facilities for a quarter a day just to piss!"

"Those were hard times."

"Mildly speaking."

"So you moved in with Conchita?"

"A lovely apartment. Tree-shaded street, dignified neighbors. For a moment, I was reminded of paradise."

"Where you've never been?"

"Nor any man, I doubt. Save those heavenly moments when he's up on his knees with a stout cock dangling in his hand and the eager young cherry of a squirmy maid laid out in a stretcher below him."

"You sound like you're quoting yourself."

"I am. Some of the lines I left out of the play. But what else can I do at seven-thirty in the morning but indulge in regrets as I babble on the phone?"

"You can give me some hard information, Leo. That's what you can do. What happened?"

"I told you. I moved from the railroad station to the lovely apartment of Conchita Citron, a refugee from Havana."

"So that's where you were living the last few months when you were so evasive?. "

"Exactly!"

"Why didn't you just come out and say so? For Christ's sake, Leo, there certainly wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Conchita! Sure, I remember her from your last show."

"She's a hot piece," he added. "I remember her doing a striptease at that party. Beautiful boobs! What are you ashamed of? I'd be fucking her first chance I could."

"I'm not ashamed, Billy, not at all. But there are several nuances to the affair which you might not perceive immediately. The first is that when she was acting in my last show, I was living with Penelope, that gangly pimple from Milwaukee. Certainly you remember her? I do! Sometimes I wake up at night screaming."

"She was ugly!"

"A horror!"

"Frightening. She certainly had pimples."

"And money. Each pimple was worth a million. One great pity of my life is that Penelope no longer loves me."

"She might still love you, Leo, but her love no longer has the monetary value it once did."

"That's true. After she lost a fortune investing in my last few plays, her parents had a trustee appointed to manage her estate. He was not a man fond of the theatre."

"No!"

"Anyway, since I was living with Penelope, I didn't remember Conchita until I saw her again a few months ago and wound up in the sack."

"We're getting away from the point, Leo. That always happens when I talk to you. What I want to know is just why the fuck you didn't bother to mention that you were living with Conchita. What's the big deal about that? Instead, there was all that bullshit trying to get in touch with you all the time!"

"Messages with the answering service! What a pain in the ass! You could have just told me you were living with Conchita. It would have saved a hell of a lot of fucking time and aggravation."

"At twenty, Billy, time and aggravation have hardly the meaning that they do to me. In other words, I'd rather you had the worry. My nerves are too fragile for that. The reason is simple. Andrea."

"Andrea?"

"Of course."

"I don't understand."

"You dolt! Billy, at times you astonish me-really you do; about certain things I find you well informed and perceptive-an excellent judge of people. But about other things, you're a dolt."

"Especially about Andrea. You can foam at the mouth about how much you respect her for taking over the responsibility of your family. That you can do, as though Andrea were Joan of Arc or someone like that. But somehow, now matter how hard I try, I can't get you to understand that Andrea is also a very sexy woman. Very sexy indeed! I'd love to ball her! So would everyone else I know who's ever even seen her. Fuck your sister, Billy, that's what most people think about when they see you and her holding hands."

"What's gotten into you, Leo? I thought we settled this yesterday. I told you I don't feel comfortable talking about Andrea like this! Mimosa-okay! In fact, I've got something to tell you about Andrea that should turn you on ... Mimosa, I mean, Mimosa!"

"Mimosa, Shitosa, why don't you listen for a change? All I'm saying is that while I was living with Conchita, I didn't mention it to you because I was also trying to fuck your sister at the same time. If she knew I was living with a ho-tblooded Cuban cigar, I thought that might lessen my chances to fuck her. That's all."

"Okay, skip it!"

"Fuck you, skip it! I've got nothing to do in this goddam hospital bed but lie here and dream about the past. So I might as well babble like a loony. I figured if your sister thought I was a poor unfortunate waif, she might take pity on me and screw, but she didn't."

"So I drowned my sorrows in Conchita's huge hole. Huge is an understatement. An army could hold their maneuvers in there. Her cunt is the size of the Grand Canyon. Anyway, we were neatly ensconced in her pleasant little pad until a shortage of funds required me to sell her furniture and sub-let the place. We moved backstage of the theatre."

"You're actually living backstage?"

"Romantic."

"Lice. That place is filthy."

"And, of course, I can't tell the truth to the girls in the case since their image of me requires that I act out the role of a dirty old lecher."

"You worry too much about roles."

"I worry too much-period! What time is it?"

"Seven forty-five. In the morning. I can still hardly believe I'm talking to you this early."

"I had to call you, Billy. I'm bored here in the hospital, lying on my stomach with nothing to do. And yet, I've got at least a zillion urgent errands and you've got to help out, Billy, only for a couple of days. I'm depending on you and Conchita to fill the bill for me while I'm gone. Oversee rehearsals, things like that. Conchita has a list. You can meet her at the theatre any time."

"Okay, Leo, sure. You know I'm glad to help out. Anything I can do at a time like this, I sure will. Only one question. The thing that's been on my mind since you called. What happened?"

"I slipped and fell."

"Bullshit!"

"Well ... promise to keep a secret."

"I promise."

"The lights were out. I got undressed and climbed into bed. The donkey saw my ass. And I think he thought I was his brother. The next thing I know, this mammoth mule is climbing up my spine and trying to ram his hairy dong into my rectum as if I'm a thermometer!"

"Leo...? "

"That's right. I was raped. By the donkey!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BAREFACED TWAT

Mimosa lowered the phone. There was a smile on her face. She had heard the entire conversation between Leo and her brother. As soon as the phone rang Mimosa leaped out of bed, ran to the kitchen and stealthily lifted the extension phone from its cradle.

Leo's voice surprised her. Mimosa had expected Andrea to call, offering some explanation of the night she had spent away from home. That would be fun to listen to, but this call from Leo was equally illuminating. Leo was in the hospital.

Mimosa rushed back to her room. Her books for school were ready and packed away with her homework in a briefcase. That was no problem. She just had to decide on what clothes to wear. That was important, particularly if she decided to visit Leo in the hospital.

Panties. Should they be brief bikinis or the sexy lace shorts? Mimosa gave this a moment's thought and then laughed. It was silly to even waste her time considering underpants at all. She would wear none.

If she got any chance to screw Leo at all it would have to be fast-fast and furious. Neither of them would have time to undress. She'd have to lift his hospital gown. That would be easy. From what she remembered of her own experience in the hospital the time they took her appendix out, no one wore underwear under their gowns.

Mimosa was positive. No undies at all. Only her yellow mini-skirt. That was sexy. Halfway between the knee and her ass. Yellow leather especially dyed and designed for her by a faggot friend of Andrea. With that Mimosa decided to wear her lemon suede boots and a pale yellow blouse, but no bra.

"Morning, Billy!"

"Get out of my room!"

"Shall I make you breakfast, dear? I'm on my way to school. But since Big Sis didn't bother to come home last night I thought I'd take over and show a little responsibility around the house. Isn't that sweet of me?"

She stooped and picked up the "witchcraft" book from the floor where it had bounced the night before.

"I can fix my own breakfast," Billy snarled. "And what're you doing reading crap like that in the first place?"

"Since when do you consider yourself a competent literary critic?" Mimosa laughed. "This isn't for men anyhow. Do you want breakfast or not? I have to go to school!"

"I'll fix it myself," Billy shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"Certainly!"

Mimosa slammed the door. "FUCK YOU!"

In the kitchen Mimosa fixed herself a tall orange juice, two slices of rye toast, and a pot of strong coffee. She opened the book to the passage she had marked the night before. Quickly scanning it as she sipped her coffee.

The idea of the author was simple. Sex was a form of hypnotism. By releasing her full potential for an orgasm into all the everyday activities of life a woman could become a witch.

Mimosa understood this to mean that all conversations about everything must then be exclusively sexual especially with a man. Men must be flattered. Made to think that their sexual organ is dreadfully unique, individual and popular. Every man wants to believe his cock is beautiful. Simply by complimenting his penis two or three times a day a woman can gain control of a man. Spontaneity was the key.

Men were also suspicious. They only believe those compliments which seemed to occur at the spur of the moment, without any preconceived plan. The sense of improvisation was a necessary adjunct to the function of a witch.

Once a man was conquered twenty-eight days had to elapse before the practice of witchcraft could be performed. This coincided with the lunar month and the female menstrual cycle. The release of blood during the period of menstruation energizes in some peculiar fashion all of the latent potential of the female glands. Using this potential on a sexually bewitched man was witchcraft.

Mimosa whistled. It was all pretty simple, she thought, and made a lot more sense as far as she was concerned than any of the dreary subjects she was forced to study at school. Her teachers expected her to turn into a statistic instead of a woman. Mimosa laughed.

She finished breakfast and stacked the things in the sink and started for the door. She delayed a moment as she pondered the wisdom of a final exchange with Billy. No, she decided, he's probably too morose to be of much good.

Billy was a perfect example of witchcraft. Andrea had done it. She had teased and lured and tantalized him until little of his will was left as his own. It was really a major accomplishment. And Mimosa had been in the fortunate position of being both a bystander and a witness to every phase in the development.

All of this had seemed downright "mystical" until she had made her discovery about sex. The power that Andrea wielded was the power of her pussy unleashed. Mimosa giggled. The whole thing was silly.

Fuck-soon she'd have a man of her own. Mimosa assured herself of that as she hurried to catch the cross-town bus. Wolf whistles followed her down the street. They usually did, but this morning the voices were more raucous than ever.

"Hey, blondie, lemme suck your yellow twat!"

"You selling? I'm buying."

"Pussy! Pussy! Come here and lap my milk."

"Come over here, girlie, I'll give you a dollar."

"Wow!"

"Twelve inch cock, baby, you want me to stuff you?"

"Don't drop your cunt!"

That was it. The last shout reminded her she was wearing no underpants today. Her skirt flew up as she ran, waving her bare ass in the air. No wonder the men were so crude with delight. They were enjoying themselves with a free sight of her cunt. Mimosa laughed.

Let them look! All of these lovely apes. With a perfect practical example of witchcraft. What they needed was a banana and a tree.

"Mimosa!"

Rupert was waiting for her at the bus stop. He was a serious boy. In the same grade and the same age. But like most boys of thirteen he was far from having the developed sexual maturity of a girl of that same age. He was a scholar.

"My friend the intellectual," Mimosa greeted him. "How are you this morning, Rupert? Are you wearing your contact lenses? I can't tell. Your eyes look sort of myopic today."

He nodded. "I've been up most of the night. Writing a report on Structural Anthropology for that fool Miss Gitlin who's woefully ignorant of any developments in her field since early 1960!"

"Miss Gitlin!" Mimosa snorted. Suddenly she considered her reaction to be interesting. Rupert, Miss Gitlin, and me. This might make an excellent opportunity to put into practice some of the basic tenets of witchcraft.

Playing the piano requires practice. So does a witch. Rupert was perfect.

"Miss Gitlin, Miss Gitlin," Mimosa repeated. "That's all I ever hear from you Rupert, only Miss Gitlin and never a word about me!"

"But you're not interested in Structural Anthropology," Rupert remarked. "Why should I talk to you?"

"Last year," Mimosa reminded him, "when we were in the sixth grade together you proposed to me, Rupert, or have you forgotten that?"

"No," he said. "I never forget a thing. You also broke my glasses, pulled my nose and emptied a bottle of ink in my hair. I presume you were accepting my proposal. Irrational action in the female sex I have been led to assume implies love."

"Would you love me if I was a witch, Rupert?"

"Here's the bus!"

Mimosa stamped her foot. "Oh, Rupert, you're so goddamn practical. Just for once I'd like to see you overwhelmed with passion."

Rupert laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I haven't reached puberty yet!"

"Well try and hurry up!"

"Yes, Mimosa," Rupert said. "Now please get on the bus."

No seats were available.

"If you're a witch, Mimosa, please get us two seats in a hurry?"

"Fuck you!" Mimosa shouted.

An elderly woman seated nearby looked over with shock and rage. She nudged her husband, repeating what Mimosa had said. The man shrugged, far more concerned with his own problems. He retreated into the New York Times.

The elderly woman had nothing else to concern herself with. Mimosa stuck out her tongue. The woman grew more indignant by the inch, stiffening her shoulders in disgust. Quickly Mimosa flicked up her skirt-allowing the woman a brief glimpse of her bare pussy. The woman shrieked. She seized her husband by the arm and pulled him away to vacate their seats.

"See!" Mimosa chortled. "I happen to be a witch!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BREAKFAST FOR TWO

"Eggs?"

"Fried and over."

"Coming up," Andrea smiled, turning back to her work in the kitchen. She was wearing only a Turkish towel wrapped around her waist. Both breasts were bare.

She looks like a golden Goddess of the Amazon cooking in my kitchen, Dick thought.

"God!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

Andrea turned. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Dick responded. "It was just an expression. I still can hardly believe you're real and that last night was last night and this morning is here. I'm so flabbergasted."

"I'm happy," Andrea said, bustling back and forth in the kitchen. "I'm really glad we got so polluted before we went to bed last night."

"Why?" Dick asked. "Do you think that made the sex between us any better?"

"Oh, no!" Andrea laughed. "Not at all!"

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Dick admitted. "Because I don't think so either. I've gone to bed with lots and lots of girls stoned out of my mind. I've screwed in practically all possible variations of high, but I never found it had much of an effect on the sex itself. Sometimes it did wonders for my attitude and made me forget I was bored by the person I was with, but it never served in the way of the actual sex. It didn't make it better or worse that I ever noticed." Suddenly he laughed. "That was a big speech to say a lot of nothing, Andrea. From now on everything is so new to me that I don't even know what I'm talking about."

"Pumpkin," she said endearingly. "As long as I know what you mean, none of it matters." He smiled.

"What you're saying is certainly true,"

Andrea continued, "Our being tipsy had nothing to do with the paradise we found in bed. But what I meant was the talking and the telling you things normally a girl would be shy and reticent to even express."

"Like what?"

Andrea blushed. "Most women are afraid to tell a man on the first date just how much he means to them. They try to pretend that they're sophisticated and all. Well, Dick, I couldn't do that. I may have slept with a thousand men before I met you, but now that I have I know that there will never be even one more. You or nothing." She spoke firmly. "The door to my cunt is closed."

"Do you mean that?"

She nodded.

"That's beautiful, Andrea. I'm deeply touched."

"Eat your grapefruit, Dick, or I'll burst into tears. When you look at me that way my stomach seems to melt."

"Mine too."

"What time is it now? After eight? What time do you have to be at work, Dick. Will we have time to fuck before you do?"

"Of course." He pushed the grapefruit aside. "Right now is fine with me and right here is perfect!"

"On the kitchen table?"

"Why not?"

Andrea laughed. "Eat the grapefruit. Then drink the coffee and then eat the eggs! I've got to keep you healthy. We're going to do our fucking on a full stomach. Slow and leisurely. All right, my love?"

"Whatever you say," Dick replied. "I'm yours to command. Sometimes I absolutely feel bewitched by you."

"You are," Andrea laughed. "In the best of all possible ways."

"With the power of your cunt?"

She blushed. "Oh, Dick, may I use the phone?"

"Of course!"

"I have to call home. I should have told them last night that I wouldn't be home but I wasn't quite sure then. During dinner that duck convinced me."

"Quack! Quack!"

Andrea laughed, dialing the number. Billy answered on the third ring. "Good morning, Billy, it's me, Andrea. Did Mimosa get off to school all right? ... what about your audition last night? ... Leo what? ... Me? ... I am fine, Billy, and I may even have some very, very good news for you! Wouldn't you like to be able to get out of that play? We'll talk about it later ... I'll be home before noon ... good, Billy, love, I'll see you then." She put donw the phone, a frown crossing her face.

"Something wrong?" Dick asked.

Andrea hesitated. "Possibly. But I'm not quite sure yet. My brother Billy has some strange ideas."

"About what?"

"Well, Dick, I told you he's been discouraged by being unable to find a job doing a TV commercial. Despite all the compliments he gets, everyone reacts just about as you did yesterday. They say he'd be just fine if only he had a test reel of film for them to look at."

"That's understandable, Andrea," Dick explained. "Sometimes people photograph on film quite differently than they appear to the eye. A professional can judge easily enough, but there aren't too many of those, especially as sponsors. Don't you worry about this, Andrea. I'll get Billy something even if I have to pay for a test reel of film to be shot myself."

Andrea smiled. "You don't have to do that, Dick. You know you don't have to do that, Dick. I'm yours to fuck with no strings attached. All I want from you is exclusive use of your cock and balls."

"Not my mouth?"

Andrea laughed.

"Of course I know that I don't have to do anything to help Billy in his career," Dick said. "I will because I want to do it. Now not another word about it, Angel. You leave Billy's career completely in my hands. They are the best pair of hands in the business, let me tell you-not very modestly, but altogether true. From now on Billy's career is well taken care of!"

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I mean it!"

"How can I ever thank you?"

"You can't!" Dick replied, "except with your cunt. And I only want that for mutual joy. Billy will work out just fine, because I'm doing it for my own good as well. I believe in the boy, you see, especially now that I know a little of his family background. He's beautiful enough to make it in this business. And that's good for my reputation too."

"Is it?"

Dick nodded. "Within a year Billy will be one of the top young actor-models in the country. Naturally that will enhance my reputation." He laughed. "The man with an infallible eye. That's me."

Andrea grinned, but the doubt had not yet left her face. A flicker of worry darkened her expression.

Dick reached out to touch her hand. "Still Billy?" he asked. "What's bothering you?"

"Billy," Andrea admitted. "The conversation just now was too cursory to be indicative of anything, but still I'm worried. Do you know Leo Green?"

Dick nodded thoughtfully. "Green, hmmm, yes I do, Andrea-but, well, not personally. Leo Green-sort of an off-Broadway genius, isn't he? The self-proclaimed variety. He's been involved in a number of messy things, and something new I read about that really sounded distasteful."

"A Circus of Sex?"

"That's it!" Dick exclaimed. "The Theatre of Sexual Expression. Isn't that what is is supposed to be called?"

"Billy's involved with Leo."

"How?"

Andrea shrugged. "I don't really know. Not yet anyway. But I certainly intend to find out."

Dick looked troubled. "That could be bad news, Andrea. None of the sponsors will tolerate an actor in a commercial if he's be in one of those so-called sex dramas. This could ruin Billy's career before it's even begun!"

"That's exactly what I was afraid of!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE PREPARATION

"Rupert?"

"What, Mimosa?"

"Do you still want to marry me?"

"Let me consider your question." Rupert hesitated, studying Mimosa's face intently as the bus continued its lumbering way across town.

"I don't see the logic in it," he admitted finally. "Therefore, I assume you have either a prank or a practical joke on your mind. In either instance, the answer you would prefer is 'yes', and since 'yes' would also be a legitimate reply in regard to my emotional projection of our relationship, I can frankly, but hesitantly, answer your question in the affirmative."

"What if I weren't a virgin?"

"Technically, morally, and religiously, that's much too complex for my computer-like mind to handle, unless you employ a specific."

"A virgin is a virgin," Mimosa replied. "That means a girl who hasn't been laid-laid, fucking, sex, the birds and the bees, Rupert! Has anyone ever discussed the facts of life with you?"

"Certainly," Rupert responded. 'Miss Gitlin."

"WHAT?"

"Don't shout, Momosa. I do not enjoy emotional scenes on public vehicles of transportation."

"You've discussed fucking with Miss Gitlin? Miss Gitlin? That clumsy stupid science teacher?"

"Sex is biology," Rupert replied. "Naturally, we discuss biology ... in biological terms. Fucking is a literary form. Usually I read it in print."

"Did you ever do it?"

Rupert shook his head. "Of course not. I'm only thirteen. It would be technically impossible. I haven't reached puberty yet."

"I have."

Rupert blushed. "I've noticed that fact, Mimosa. Indeed, I believe I was aware of it before you. If you recall, I proposed marriage a year ago."

"True. True," Mimosa said thoughtfully. "I've really only been fully aware of it the past few months."

"I imagine it must be a strain."

Mimosa nodded. "Sometimes I don't know what to do."

"Which is why you are considering deflowering yourself, I presume?"

"I've done that," Mimosa said. "I did it with my thumb. About three months ago. It didn't hurt much."

"Therefore, your previous question was irrelevant. If you are already deflowered, then the question of your virginity is certainly academic."

"Well," Mimosa hesitated, "not really. I'm considering the idea of doing it with a man."

Rupert beamed. "That's an excellent idea. I approve of that completely."

"Do you?" Mimosa asked with a downcast expression. "But I thought you loved me. You asked me to marry you. Wouldn't you want me to be a virgin?"

Rupert shook his head.

"No?" Mimosa persisted. "Really?"

"Really! First of all, our contemplated marriage would not occur for at least a decade. During that time, I have a great deal of academic work which must be accomplished, leaving me no time at all for the development of the physical side of my nature. A marriage seems to me to be a perfectly natural union of complementary opposites-Yin and Yang. That principle."

"White I cultivate my mind for the next ten years, I would appreciate it if you devoted similar care and attention to the preparation of your body. As many sexual experiences as you require should be rapidly indulged in. Think of me and all the cram courses I indulge in. Unless you intend to be lazy!"

"Do I act lazy?" Mimosa demanded indignantly. "I happen to be reacting right now with a sort of quirky feeling of dumb amazement, but that's because we never discussed this before."

"That's not my problem," Rupert replied indignantly. "Up until now, I've been an object of scorn and ridicule in your eyes."

"That's true."

"I know."

"But not any more," Mimosa said. "Now I think you are very intelligent."

"An opinion in which I concur."

"We might just do well with each other at that," Mimosa remarked, giving credence to a thought which a few hours ago she would have considered ludicrous. "You'll study and I'll screw."

"For the next ten years," Rupert said. "From then on, we'll combine our report." Mimosa laughed.

"Shall we shake hands and call it a deal?"

She hesitated, looking at the serious-faced boy with intent interest. Rupert certainly was smart. "All right," Mimosa said, "it's a deal!"

They shook hands.

"Now I'm engaged!" Mimosa stood up. "I'll see you later, Rupe. I'm about to go into practice!"

"Here?" Rupert asked. "This isn't our stop."

"This is the hospital, isn't it."

"Yes..."

"That's my stop," Mimosa announced. "Don't worry, Rupe. I'll make you a fine old wife!"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE ASS LICKING

"Put your finger in my ass," Dick pleaded. "Stick it all the way up!"

He was crouched on the bed, his ass jutting up in the air.

Had he been a homosexual, the position he was in would have been perfect for another man behind him to insert a penis into his rectum. But Andrea was in back, using her finger like a thermometer.

"Like it?" Dick gasped.

"I like doing it to you," Andrea whispered. "Are you ready for my tongue?"

"Yes," he moaned. "Yes!"

Andrea lowered her face until she was crouched at a similar level. His ass hold was directly in front of her, puckered like a pair of baby's lips.

She pushed her face forward until her cheeks were squeezed by the cheeks of his ass. Her tongue flicked out. . .

Dick screamed.

She closed her eyes and pressed forward, working her tongue back and forth until she could get nearly all of it into the expanded space of his rectum.

The taste was pleasant; like pork soaked in oriental sauce ... the type you get in a Chinese restaurant. The grip of his sphincter muscles was distinct. It clamped her tongue like an octopus, squeezing and then letting go...

Gyrating her head, Andrea attempted circular strokes, widening the canal as much as she could and penetrating the depths of his rectum with all the length of her tongue that she could manage.

"I always wanted someone to ream my little old brown ass-hole," Dick shyly confessed in a half moan as Andrea continued the anal activity. "I wanted it ever since I was an adolescent. One of the older kids was my sexual hero. He used to have all sorts of exploits. Just a little more to the right, please."

Andrea shifted her tongue.

"Really exciting things. I was forever thinking about all the things that Jeff did ... all the things that happened to him ... throughout my teens. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Andrea gasped, "just pausing to catch my breath."

"Does my talking bother you?"

"Uh-uh," she replied. "It gives me something to listen to."

"Shall I go on?"

"Please."

"So Jeff and his sexual adventures were the things I aspired to. Everything he told me about was exactly what I wanted to do. The same with things I read in books. Honestly, dear, I was very naive. By myself, the only sex I could imagine was simply climbing on top of a girl and inserting my dick and doing the old-fashioned screw, which I enjoyed. Don't get me wrong. I really enjoyed it, believe me."

"I believe you."

"But naturally, as I grew older and gained more experience in the more mundane forms of love, I found myself gradually drifting into the world of the erotic."

"Mmmmmm," Andrea slobbered, expressing her approval with her teeth.

She used her tongue to wedge a bit of his cheek into her mouth and nibbled away like a rabbit, flicking the skin with the edges of her teeth.

She could feel Dick rise in the air by a fraction of an inch at a time. The hair on his spine seemed to stand on end.

"I love your ass!" she moaned.

"I love your licking my ass!"

Andrea whipped her tongue back into the opening of his anus. She began to drill with her tongue in circles, like a flywheel at the head of a drill. Each motion was faster, like froth on a wave.

"That's so good!" Dick groaned. "These were the type of things I wanted to do. But somehow, I don't know about other men, but I suppose they were like me too. I was always kind of shy about asking a girl to do these things to me. It was a combination of circumstances, I know now in looking back on things."

"One major circumstance which inhibited me from making a direct appeal was that-frankly-I never knew whether or not I would actually enjoy the sex act I was thinking about, or whether Jeff's description was what I sought. Oh, Andrea, do you like licking my ass?"

She paused. "I love it, Dick, but honestly, baby-and I know you always want me to tell you the truth-I am getting bored by all of your talk!"

He stiffened-freezing up. Andrea could see his ass-hole tauten before her eyes, and she watched his cock collapse.

"Dick," she said sternly. "You've got to grow up! Everything between us is beautiful, wonderful, poignant, sensual, erotic, romantic and sinful--everything a complete relationship between a normal healthy man and woman should be. It can even get better ... if only you'd stop talking about it!"

"But you said you liked listening to me," Dick blurted. "I was only talking to you."

"Enjoy yourself instead," Andrea said. "Save all that excess chatter for your psychiatrist. As soon as you realize that you are paying twenty-five dollars an hour just to babble like a fart of hot air, then you'll appreciate what a magnificent relationship we've got. But until then, this talk is only dull bullshit!"

"But people have to talk to communicate?"

"Then ask me the things you've been dying to ask me since last night! Indulge yourself in a little reality. The worst you can get is an answer like no .

He shook his head. "I don't understand." Andrea laughed.

"But I don't understand," Dick whimpered.

"You play with your feelings, Dick, as if you were a sensitive, lonely, little lost child whose tender nerve-endings must never be abused. You probably have no pity for others, because you use all your feelings on yourself. I make a friendly little comment to you while I'm in the middle of licking your ass and you take it as a personal insult-strong enough to deflate that precious pee-pee!"

"Of course it was an insult! Dick shot back venomously. "Listen to the tone of your voice."

"That's what I'm getting at, you dope. Stop listening and look around and feel. I was licking your ass-hole. Why was I licking your ass-hole? I'm not your slave. I was licking it because I liked you and I liked it and I liked you liking me like it. Now those are enough compound reasons to satisfy even an intellectual's fuck!"

He shook his head.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Andrea," Dick shouted, "I don't understand. One minute we're as close together as any two people, and then the next you're bitterly attacking me as if I were your worst, most hated enemy in the whole wide world."

She laughed.

"I hate you!" Dick snarled.

"You don't mean it," she said, "so I won't react to it. Listen, Dick, I just want you to get back to the natural state of feeling what's going on between us instead of that armored position where you look like a turtle stuck in a shell."

"I'm so confused," he said. "I don't know what you're talking about. Honest, Andrea, I really don't!"

The phone rang.

"Do you mind...? "

Andrea laughed. "This is your phone, Dick. Go ahead and answer it!"

"You've got me so baffled, I don't know what to do next!"

"Baby," she crooned, "answer the phone and then come back to bed with me."

Dick lifted the phone. "Yes?" He paused, listened for a moment and then hung up.

"That was weird."

"Who was it?"

"No one," Dick said. "Just silence at the other end. But I could hear someone breathing. It was kind of scary. No one said anything. Just this breathing. But whoever it was, knew I was there."

Andrea looked thoughtful. "That is weird."

Dick shook his head. "No ... it's nothing really. I was just a little jumpy from our little scene. I think I understand what you mean, Andrea. I think I know what you're talking about. All I can do is put myself in your hands."

"Good," she smiled. "Everything will be perfect. Don't forget I'm really a witch..."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"DID THE DONKEY COME?"

"Couldn't you get a private room?" Mimosa complained. "How can I talk to you in the middle of the ward?"

She was sitting by Leo's bedside. A nurse had brought an enamel chair for her to sit on, cautioning her explicitly not to sit on the bed itself.

"Mr. Green has had a rear-end collision," explained the nurse, "and that area of his anatomy needs to be swaddled and greased with care. The doctor prescribed no undue motion of the bed, so I'd prefer if you sat on the chair."

What was worse for Mimosa was the absolute lack of privacy. Leo was not in a private room as she had expected. He was in the middle of a ward-almost exactly in the middle. Ten beds flanked him to the left and fourteen extended to his right.

Fifty men were in the ward in all. She was the only girl.

"They're all looking at me!"

Leo shrugged. "Of course they're all looking at you, Mimosa. It's not every day in their humdrum lives that a thirteen-year-old bare-ass pussy comes trotting into the ward wearing a yellow leather mini-skirt and lemon suede boots."

"Is that all you're interested in?" Mimosa snorted. "Clothes?"

"We could talk about the weather," Leo suggested "I like to think in the rain."

"You're a pig!"

"And you're such a lovely visitor," Leo replied. "You're here three minutes and you have insulted me twelve times!"

"Why don't you have a private room?"

"Because I'm poor."

Mimosa snorted. "Who told you to be a genius in the first place? Especially in the theatre.

That's ridiculous! Look what happens. You wind up a charity case in this lousy ward."

"Still," Leo said, "there are compensations. Your smiling face has appeared above the horizon, lighting my lamp of life. Mimosa, I've thought about it, you should go on TV instead of Billy. Queen of the soap operas!"

"Fuck you!"

He shrugged. "We can't."

"Who would want to fuck you anyway?" she jeered. "A donkey!"

Leo moaned. "I've been expecting that from the moment you walked in the door. All morning I tried to evade giving your brother a direct answer on the phone. Anyone but an imbecile would have known you'd be listening on the extension."

Mimosa laughed. "Billy's very naive when it comes to me."

"He's seen too many movies," Leo explained. "He doesn't realize that you're not part of the script."

"What do you mean?"

"What did I say?"

"That I wasn't part of the script."

Leo shrugged. "How should I know? I can't be expected to repeat myself forever Damn you, child, the only words that make sense to me are those that come out of a script! A play! The theatre! Shakespeare! Ibsen! Shaw! Pinter! And

"That's my life. Far be it for me to inhabit the dreams of reality when I can trod the stage of imagination to the tune of musical spheres!"

"And get your ass fucked by a donkey?"

"That was an accident."

"I never heard of anyone having an accident like that before!"

"You're only thirteen years old!"

"I've lived a lot!"

"Why are you here?" Leo shouted. "Don't I have enough guilt without you to hound me? C'mon, Mimosa, do what you're supposed to! Go back to school! I didn't need to see your little cynical face showing up in this place in person to suspect that it must have been you listening in on the extension! I heard it click!"

"Hah-hah," Mimosa laughed. "I don't believe you! You're probably queer to begin with, and only bought that donkey so it'd stick its big fat dong right up the crack of your ass!"

Leo blushed, glancing apologetically from side to side.

Mimosa's voice had risen. She was prattling on in glee. Due to the hour of the morning, none of the other forty-nine patients had received any visitors as yet. Only Leo.

Doctors and nurses scuttled about on their busy bedpan chores bringing the total figure of the audience present in the ward to sixty-three-all of them listening with rapt interest to Mimosa making a speech.

"Fucked in the ass by a donkey?" Mimosa asked shrewdly. "How as it done? What were you doing? How come you didn't see this donkey before it was able to get its dong stuck in your ass? You were looking the other way, I suppose, thinking some very theatrical thoughts."

"Maybe the donkey is innocent," she went on, "whose word do we have that what you say is true? No one I know ever heard of a donkey raping a fat genius before! Unless, of course, you had a carrot stuck in your ass and the donkey came over to eat it. Now that I'd believe! According to reputation, that's the sort of thing that only fat geniuses do-stick carrots up their things! And then they pretend they're human!"

"Mimosa," Leo swore, "if I ever recover, I swear by all that is holy that I will rip your neck in two and shove your head through your nose!"

"Did the donkey come?"

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LUST FOR HIS SISTER

Andrea stared at him.

Billy shrugged, stretched out on his bed. His arms were folded double and bent under his head. He had said nothing to Andrea since she had entered the room. Five minutes passed. Let her be the one to say something first, if she had anything to say.

Billy yawned. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. In a few minutes he'd get up and amble over to the theatre. Conchita could probably use his help.

"Do you have anything to say?"

"Me?" Billy exclaimed. "That's a twist!"

"I want an explanation, Billy, I want one now."

"You want an explanation."

"Yes!"

Billy shrugged. "Sure. Tell me what you want an explanation for. I'm a smart guy. What's your problem? I'll explain it."

"The phone call," Andrea said. Her voice was furious. "I want to know what was the meaning of that."

"What phone call?" Billy scratched his head. "I don't know what phone call you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," insisted Andrea. "And I'm waiting to hear your explanation."

"Let's see," Billy mused. "Leo called. That was early. I don't have to give you any explanation of that. That's none of your business. No offense meant, Sis, but it was just between Leo and me. Besides, it was all business. You know, about my career and all. Just two pals talking. See? That doesn't interest you."

"Don't try to distract me, Billy," Andrea said harshly. "Everything between you and Leo is my business. But that's not the phone call I'm talking about."

Billy acted puzzled. "What other phone call was there? I don't get you, Sis, was there another phone call?"

"You know damn well what I mean!"

"Your call?"

"No, Billy, not mine."

"Well," he said, "there weren't any other calls to my knowledge. Leo called me, and you called. That's all I know about." He shrugged. "If anybody else had called I certainly would have known about it. I've been here in bed all morning."

"You called Dick Finch!"

"Me?" Billy laughed. "What're you talking about?"

"You heard me!"

"Not clearly, Sis, who'd you say I called?" Billy inquired. "What was the name."

"Finch, Billy, Richard E. Finch!" Billy shook his head. "Never heard of the guy-"

"You had an appointment with him yesterday," Andrea reminded her brother. "An appointment you walked out on, but one which I kept."

"That's right!" Billy snapped his fingers. "That faggot from the model agency. Sure, Sis, now I remember. You told me you had a date with him, didn't you? That was it. Sure, now I remember. You had a date with him last night." Andrea nodded.

Billy smiled. "Didn't you tell me you thought he was queer? Or maybe you said he was straight. One or the other. I don't remember."

"No?"

Billy sat up. "Tell me, Andrea, I'm dying to find out. I presume that's where you were all night. What happened? Did you get laid?"

"I'm holding my temper, Billy," Andrea said softly. "Just answer the question I asked you! Did you call Dick Finch this morning and just wait silently on the phone, saying nothing? You did that, didn't you?"

"Why would-" Billy never got the words out. Andrea's hand lashed out, whipping him savagely across the face, fast and furious.

Billy threw up his hands, making an attempt to block her hands, but Andrea curled her fist and hit him in the mouth. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"You bitch!"

She spit in his face.

"Sure I called that cocksucker and I'll call him again!" Billy shouted. "Every time you're in the sack with him the phone'll ring! You'll know it's me! But he won't. No, sweet sister of mine, your big stud prick won't know who's calling. All he'll hear is a voice breathing hard and scaring the shit out of him. Every time he's with you!"

Andrea shook her head. "Billy, have you lost your senses ... have you absolutely lost your senses? Do you know what I did last night? Nothing! That's what I did! Nothing!"

"You expect me to believe that?" Billy snorted, wiping the blood from his lip. "Bullshit! You were out fucking all night!"

"With Dick Finch?" Andrea laughed. "I went out with him for one reason and one reason only. You know that, Billy, so stop pretending to me that you don't!"

"Bullshit!"

"It was in order to get you a decent job," Andrea said harshly. "Look at the thanks I get. Maybe you are a faggot after all. You seem to pout like a girl every time you hear the truth!"

"Don't push me, Andrea, I'm bigger and stronger than you. If I belt you it's for good! One punch! That's all!"

"Then hit me," she dared him. "Because I must be stupid enough to deserve it. I spent half the night getting him so drunk he was throwing up vomit over half the streets in town. And then I spend the rest of the night playing Florence Nightingale-God's own good nurse. Fishing him endless cups of black coffee and Bromo Seltzer so he'd be in shape to go to work this morning!"

"Don't expect me to believe that story."

"Why shouldn't you?" Andrea demanded. "It happens to be true. Why did I bother? Ask yourself that one, Billy. Why do you think I bothered putting myself through an emotional wringer with a drunk like that. Why, Billy, why? Because of you! To get you a decent job."

"To hell with that!" Billy screamed, interrupting her at the top of his voice. "I don't give a shit any more about your goddam neurotic concern for a job for me. That's not what I want to know about, do you understand? Stay away from my career. Just one thing, Andrea, just one. Did you fuck him?"

Andrea sighed.

"Did you?"

"Billy," she said softly, "come here and let me love you."

"No! Damn you!"

"Don't you want it, Billy?" Andrea swiftly unlatched the hook at the back of her gown. In less than a fraction of a second she was disrobed, stepping across the room and moving toward the bed. She reached out with her hand to touch him.

"No!"

Billy spun away. Tears of rage and frustration welled in his eyes. Brushing away her imploring hand, he moved toward the window. He clenched his fist, pounding it against the window frame. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

One sight of her nude body had stripped him of all his resolve. The entire night he had lain sleepless, carefully planning the eventual encounter. Now it was all futile. Seeing her naked had raised his lust and desire. He wanted Andrea's supple body enclosing his and the endless delight of the writhing passion they shared, burning his courage to ashes.

"Sometimes I feel as if you're trying to get away from me, Billy," Andrea whispered. "As if you wish another girl could give you the fantastic fucking I do. You want to be free of me, is that it, Billy? You want to make your own decisions and choose your own friends. That's it, Billy, you're tired of me."

Mere words. Billy heard them all. He had heard them before. He knew where the words would end. They would come to an end in bed, with his heat aroused to the ultimate limit. like a maddened stallion he'd plunge at her, his teeth bared and ready to bite, to kick, to kill, to maim. But always she'd return. He'd smell her heat, the lusty odor of her sensual body, and then the inevitable would happen.

Billy wept. Every word she was saying was true. He wanted to make his own decisions; to decide for himself which acting school to go to, which modeling job to accept. He wanted to select his own pictures and make his own friends-form his own opinions-make his own mistakes.

Billy was sick of having Andrea rule and dominate every aspect of his life. Legally, she was his guardian appointed by the court. She had absolute jurisdiction over him until he was twenty-one, eight months from now.

Economically Andrea controlled the purse strings, forcing him to accept an allowance. It was all arranged for. His parents will had been thoroughly organized, almost as if they had planned to die and leave Andrea in charge of the two younger children. Every cent he spent was out of Andrea's account. All his clothes, shoes, schools, portfolio of pictures, even the decor of his room, the books and the records-everything he had had been chosen for him by Andrea.

Fucking-that was the source, the main spring of power. Ever since they were children Andrea and Billy had slept together. When he tried Billy could barely remember a time when he had not been intimate with Andrea, and it was good. That was the worst of it, Billy realized, how absolutely, fantastically good it was.

Andrea was never jealous. As often as he could Billy would bed down the first available female he could find. Anyone, anything, as long as there was a cunt. He had only one purpose: To find a substitute for the relationship he had with his sister.

He knew he needed to be free from Andrea. He had to be if he ever intended to develop and find a life of his own. He could only be free if a grip of passion could break the bond that held him to the past.

Billy tried everyone, everything. Andrea always smiled-waiting, confident and aloof, like Mona Lisa, knowing in the end that Billy would return on his knees.

Billy was unable to bear that other men slept with her. That drove him wild. And the knowledge that he was jealous and that she was not. Often he thought he could get his freedom if Andrea were to be the one to meet someone else and fall in love. Andrea could sever the bond from her side, but Billy also knew that this was useless. It would leave him more closely united to her than he had been before.

United now in love and death. The only possible path to his freedom and life had to come through his own efforts. Through a transferal of his sexual passion from Andrea to someone else.

He sought and sucked, felt and fucked-but always came home in the end to Andrea's wild, passionate embrace and the dissolution of her body in a primeval movement of total sexual abandon. Stripped of his senses Billy had lost his identity by merging with her carnal heat. And he knew how desperate he was.

The Circus of Sex. All other reasons for his participation in Leo's play paled beside this one. There was only one reason that mattered as far as Billy was concerned. Hope. Billy hoped that the intensity of the artificially created passion whipped to a fury by the spectacle of an orgy performed in public would erase from his flesh the mark of incest, the writhing, serpentine lust he shared with his sister.

Billy wept in frustration. Andrea now nuzzled to his back.

"Poor baby," Andrea murmured. "You know I love you, baby, I love to love you, love to cradle-your balls in my hand, love to fuck you, love to suck you, love to..." Billy whirled. His arms flung out and around her, coiling her in toward himself.

Andrea laughed, "And now it's time to fuck."

CHAPTER TWENTY

BILLY AND HIS EGYPTIAN MOMMY

He felt a muscle in his cheek tremble. Every fiber and sinew of his body reacted with passion. Billy stepped back, avoiding Andrea's outstretched hand and her desire to pull him closer. She wanted to enfold him, to seal him completely into herself. He must belong only to her, be her private property.

"My brother belongs to me." Billy felt as if this sign had been crudely branded onto his penis and balls. The rights of legal ownership. "This Man Belongs To Me, Andrea Hunt!" Signed, sealed, and delivered, with a notarized signature.

"Leave me alone!" Billy shrieked. He hated the sound of his voice, the dry acrid taste in his mouth and the scratching sensation at the back of his throat. It was as if he had smoked too many cigarettes. Every nerve in his body stretched taut with tension and was on the verge of snapping. "Leave me alone!" his voice screamed high and falsetto, like a girl.

"Let's fuck, Billy," Andrea whispered. "Let's fuck like we've never fucked before!"

He shook his head.

"Why not, Billy, don't you understand, can't you feel how badly I want to fuck you? How much I need to fuck you?" Andrea paused, looking directly at him like a wounded doe, with imploring eyes.

Suddenly she seemed so helpless. So lost. So confused. The ugly harridan of a moment before had become a lost maiden in the middle of the forest. Billy gritted his teeth. It was another one of her tricks, like a master thief changing disguises. Only Andrea changed moods. Her emotions were like a hurricane ... fast, furious and capable of a complete reversal of direction in less than a second. She'd done it again just now.

"Please, Billy," she sniffled. "You can't understand what it's been like for me ... horrible, horrible, horrible. You're the actor in the family, not I. I don't think I could ever go through with such a deception again."

Despite himself Billy was fascinated, the way a man might be watching a cobra dance. He knew that Andrea was lying. The first version of her date with Dick Finch had been told. Now the revised edition was about to appear. None of the facts would change. Andrea was far too clever for that. Never yet had she been caught in an absolute contradiction of verified testimony. Just the mood would shift, alter, be twisted into a new and different setting. It was like a kaleidoscope.

Reality shifted through Andrea's projection. Rooms seemed to change their dimension. Sex was shifted. Roles were reversed. She was the aggressor. He was timid, cowering, fearful-until, suddenly, the change would occur and Andrea would shrink in stature. Billy would grow, rise, like Jack mounting his beanstalk with a swollen cock.

"Down, bitch!" roared Bill as he mounted her through her upturned thighs, like a stallion riding the midnight mare. Andrea's head was buried in the sheets. Behind her Billy mounted the steed. His cock was the saddle. Her cunt a stirrup for him to ride, ride, ride. He plunged on atop the bucking bronco, out of the wilderness, into the shadows. His cock was a steel drill. His prick was powered by torrential rain. His balls were a nuclear fission plant of natural power. He exploded an endless wave of seed.

"It was a deception, Billy, that was the worst of it. You understand me, don't you, darling? I hope you understand. I did it all for you. Because I love you, Billy. I love you with my heart and my body-but mostly my body, my flesh, deep inside my skin, Billy. Please, put your hand on my breast, please, darling."

She lifted his hand by the wrist and carried it with a swoop of her arm over to her chest. His hand was enclosed in a grip of her own and carried to the fullness of her rounded teat. Andrea moaned. A tear creased the corner of yer eye. She smiled. Parting her lips as she looked at him, she said, "Touch me."

Soon the kaleidoscope would shift. A new mood was to replace the old. The stallion would disgorge from the rear. His cock had been buried to the hilt in the quiver of her cunt. Tilted pussy he had mounted from the rear. An angled slit he had reamed like a wild mustang on a western prairie. They were two animals mating in heat. The thick, sweat-drenched stench of their sex rose like smoke to the sky.

Billy remembered another midnight ride from nowhere to someplace. Andrea was driving. He was beside her. Mimosa in the back seat, asleep. All day

Billy had felt waves of sex rising from Andrea and surrounding him, tilting him forward. He pulled at his pants, feeling the stickiness of sweat in his crotch. Both of them had been irritable and itching at each other. Only Mimosa was relaxed and comfortable. Ignoring both of them, she glued her ears to a transistor radio and sang the tunes of her favorite song.

In the front seat it was hell. Billy couldn't keep his eyes away from Andrea's crotch or the folds of her dress, caught in the V. Finally, Mimosa slept. They continued to drive silently, staring at the country road unwinding in the dark ahead of them, waiting to make sure that the child was truly asleep.

The stars were brilliant and the country alive with night sounds. There were crickets and brief flickers of lightning bugs. A dog barked in the distance. Then a lane was spotted ahead in the glow of the headlights on the deserted road. Andrea swung the car off the road and rolled to a gentle stop beneath the tree shaded lane.

Four horses roamed the nearby meadow, gleaming brilliantly beneath the night sky. Billy said nothing. Andrea looked at him. He unbuttoned his fly. His cock leaped out, stiff and hard from a futile day straining at the cloth of his trousers. The muscles were throbbing. The slightest touch was an exquisite agony. His pelvis lurched, ready to grind and fling his seed to the sky. His legs were stiff and constrained as Billy and Andrea sat in the front seat there was tremendous tension between them. Mimosa was asleep in the seat behind.

"Suck?" she asked, and he nodded his agreement. Andrea's eyes held a wild look, as if a source of light were located somewhere in the recesses of her head. She glowed and gleamed like a beacon. The spotlight burst from her brow and focused down directly on his cock. His prick was illuminated like a scroll-the old testament. All ten commandments were engraved in the flesh.

Down came her face. Her mouth was melted cheese. His cock was sunk in a souffl'. Her lips clenched his soul. Something expanded. Something sank. Tremors raced through his skin as he plunged upward. The back of his neck on the seat, his fists battered the dashboard. The light exploded, shattering everything. Then came the orgasm-death. Billy rose. He fucked, sank, gasped. Finally, he wept.

Andrea sat back in her seat, not a hair out of place. No sweat lay on her brow. Her skin was a cold and distant ivory. She was the alabaster mold of a figurine, straight from the beauty parlor, immaculate and unrumpled-except for the drops of sperm running out of the corner of her mouth.

Billy turned away. It was a sight he wished he had not seen, this vision of Andrea in a distant place she inhabited alone. Somehow she reached a cold, forbidding planet-a world of crystal and ice. Billy turned away to the night and the protective dark of the meadow. Four horses were grazing nearby.

"Deception, Bill-how dreadful a word that is. But it's true about me. Who is this man, Dick Finch? He's merely someone I could use and manipulate. I could twist his feelings around like a ball of yarn entangled on my finger. That's all. He's a man in a job that suits my purpose for you."

Billy watched her face and the look of sincerity that glowed from her eyes. She was the critic turning her weapon on herself.

More words poured out. "Deception" seemed to be the key. She was rebuking herself for having deceived Dick Finch in some cruel and heartless way. She sounded like the heroine of a soap opera, confessing her afternoon guilt to the friendly old lady upstairs. What was her purpose?

Billy noticed she no longer insisted that all that occurred between herself and Dick Finch was a drunken evening.

That a man of even limited experience would allow Andrea on the first date to pump him with booze until he was insensible was a little too ridiculous to believe. like the story of the Devil and his deal with Daniel Webster, all that Andrea's story needed was for her to produce a signed document of her purpose. Perhaps something to the effect that Dick Finch agreed forever more to do the bidding of the aforesaid somebody would be sufficient.

Now the kaleidoscope had shifted its angle. The distortion this time was from a personal angle-the scarlet confession of undefined guilt. Drunkenness had been dropped. The gist of her message was that whatever she had done, Andrea had done out of cold and calculated reasons.

"Your career, Billy, was the reason behind everything." Now, thinking about it, maybe the reason isn't good enough. However, that's what I told myself at the time.

"Dick Finch is a decent man, I presume. I'm sure he loves his mother. He has a nice little bachelor apartment-most of a house in fact, it's across the street from the women's prison. He lives there like a magazine advertisement. He's a sweet young man, and I took advantage of that in any number of ways. I knew how to melt and mold, twist and turn, shift and shape, screw and seize all the thoughts of his mind. It was a game I invented. Do I make sense?"

Billy nodded. The kaleidoscope was about to tilt. She had played out this theme, like a vein of coal in an abandoned mine. Nothing was left of value. The message behind the words had gotten through: "Whatever I did I did for you!"

Billy wondered about that. How much of anything Andrea did was for anybody but herself? Her image of Billy as a TV commercial was a perfect example. Even the way that they would have sex. The times they would do it. Always Andrea, the goddess, would beckon her brother to the shrine.

He remembered the exploration they had gone on when they were much younger, before the death of their parents and shortly after the first time that they had actually inserted parts of their bodies into one another. Those wonderful days. Billy smiled remembering fingers poking with innocent pleasure into the depths of the human cavity.

"Come!" Andrea beckoned him.

They had gone to explore the remnants of Egypt on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was a mystic journey, as Andrea conceived it. The Valley of Doom where brothers and sisters were allowed to be lovers. They had wandered for hours among the artifacts of death and held hands with each other. People paused to stare at them.

"I talk too much, Billy, I want you close to me. Don't you want to be close to me? Don't you want to touch more of me? Come, Billy, put your hand into my cunt. Please, Billy, touch my cunt. I'll do anything you say, be anybody you want, as long as you fuck me with your powerful God. God, Billy that's what your cock is-God to me!" She lowered her head.

Billy admired the gesture. It was proper, decent, respectful. Now Andrea was enacting the slave, the disciple before the master. The Priestess of the temple was offering herself to the Priest. It was always roles-One impersonation or another, as long as the eventual function was fulfilled and as long as the sperm came to rest within the room of her womb. Billy grinned. The rhyme was too obvious, but he couldn't help it. He had to repeat it. Womb-Zoom Doom-Tomb. It was like a sing-song, battering back a nd forth in his head-under the moon. Billy laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

For a moment he thought he'd tell her. Then he realized his hand was on her breast, tightly squeezed there by her palms and held in place by the grip of her hand. He had not put his hand there himself. She had reached for him.

Andrea had been pursuing him across the room. Now they were backed up by the closet. Billy glanced at his watch. Close to three. Andrea had come back at twelve. She had been persistently attempting to get him to embrace for three hours.

With single-minded devotion Andrea had been exerting every form of her power. Every electrical flicker of energy available to the resources of her body had been focused on him and on his cock. He was enveloped with memories and remembrances of sexual experiences beyond anything he could ever hope for in the future. A world of sex, a circus was opened to him. He was ringmaster to a lavish musical orgy. There were prancing girls in high-heel costumes and graceful swans in rubber suits. Towering Amazons with bulging biceps and leather barbed whips. This was the world of that circus. Billy laughed. Room-Tomb-Womb-Doom.

"Billy!. , she called, demandingly.

He shook his head. There was no way he could explain this to Andrea. Nor could he unravel the tangled skein of his thoughts and the explosion of knowledge that had suddenly shattered her grip.

"What are you laughing at?"

Womb-Tomb-he was free! Andrea no longer controlled the strings-Boom-Doom. It was simple. like a little ditty or a nursery rhyme. Something silly to play with in his mind. It was silly enough to divert him. The power of Andrea was the power of the past.

like an incredible muscle, the grip of a cunt, surging like the tide with the suction of a whirlpool enmeshed his cock in the vortex of her passion. Then nothing else existed.

"Billy!"

Billy had ceased to exist. Only Andrea's brother was alive, like the Sun God of an Egyptian cult. The source of her witchcraft and strength was the sensual field of energy generated by the incestual bond. They had worshipped themselves. Beauty in love with a mirror.

Billy wondered if his thoughts made sense. That didn't matter and he continued to laugh. He was free. Free to run away from home. Free to have his heart's desire. To the Circus! To the Circus!

"Billy," she shrieked. "If you don't answer me I'll. . . "

"What, Andrea, kill me?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

BEAUTIFUL BILLY BOY Billy was so beautiful.

She had always loved him, even when he was a small baby. She had washed him and changed his diapers.

She was only a toddler at the time, but everything about her baby brother was an exciting inducement to enter a world of sensations which she would never want to leave. Andrea knew she would always adore Billy.

Billy lay naked on the bed, ready for love. It had taken him so long today. He was getting older.

That was the problem. Andrea once again repeated the warning to herself that she knew by heart. "Don't tie him down!"

She knew he had to think of himself as independent, but she hoped it was only a phase, like Leo.

That monster friend of his with his sexual insinuations, acted as if he suspected something was indecent.

But nothing was immoral. Sex was their inheritance and their personal property. She belonged to Billy and he belonged to her.

Today had been difficult. The trouble with Dick Finch had roused Billy to a point of rebellion. She had had to badger, cajole, and try everything she could think of to get him in bed.

Billy was so stupid, reacting seriously every time she threatened him. He should know by now that she didn't mean her threats.

But that didn't matter, now. What did matter was that Billy was naked on the bed.

She lifted his cock ever so gently. It was a beautiful cock-her brother's gorgeous penis.

Andrea laughed, thinking of the fools whose cocks she had sucked.

What if they had known the truth?

What if Dick Finch found out she despised him?

Would he ever know how much she despised, detested and hated him-that it was enough for her to want to kill him?

Andrea was too smart to ever let him know. None of them suspected what she really felt. Only she would ever know that all of her love and emotions were reserved only for Billy.

Cock? She hated them all, except Billy's. She was always fighting back a desire to bite into the stiffened flesh and to yank and pull and tug with her teeth until the skin would rip, tear, shrivel in her mouth.

That was all that a cock was good for-dead meat for a meal.

My lovely Billy, Andrea smiled at the thought. Only HIS cock...

Then suddenly, a harsh voice burst the bubble of her dream.

"Come with us!"

Andrea bolted upright. Who were these people? What right had they to be in her house?

"Get out!" she screamed. "Get out!"

"Police, ma'am. I'm afraid you'll have to come with us."

"GET OUT!"

"Charlie, look what she's got in her hand!" Andrea was startled. A fog lifted, as if she had been under the influence of a strange drug.

She blinked. Two wavering figures swam into focus.

They were the police. They were wearing blue uniforms and had badges. The expressions on their faces were very strange, as though they were seeing something they had never seen before. One of them looked sick.

Andrea suddenly realized that she was naked, and sitting on Billy's bed, holding his cock.

The sick-looking policeman covered his eyes.

Andrea suddenly became conscious that there was something in her hand. She spread open her fingers and looked down at what was lying in her palm.

It was a male sexual organ. Beautifully shaped and designed.

At one time it had probably belonged to a beautiful man.

Andrea reached up and wiped her mouth. She noticed that her lipstick was smeared. How puzzling, she thought. She did not remember wearing lipstick. She never wore lipstick. But something red was smeared on her lips.

She licked her teeth. That was a funny taste. like the juice of a steak after it's been broiled. Shreds of meat were caught between her teeth.

The sick policeman threw up.

Andrea looked at the cock in her hand. It was still warm.

She turned around.

Billy was still there, lying on the bed. He looked very pale and still.

"Billy!! !. ... " Andrea screamed.

End
Three For Fun ....(69k)    by Peter Worthington




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	"Double for Nothing!! Tricks for Free!!!"™ A MrDouble Production: mrdouble

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