Precisely when did the Women's Liberation movement begin?
Some people would say it all started when Eve persuaded Adam to take a bite of the apple, and there could be some truth in that view. Others, including members of the movement itself who might be considered experts, point to much more recent events as the birth pangs of Women's Lib as it is currently constituted and understood. In her introduction to Handbook of Women's Liberation, for instance, Judith Brown talks about "a crucial demonstration" in early 1968 that "separated the emerging feminists from the old-line left women." The Jeanette Rankin Brigade, an all-female peace group, was holding a demonstration in Washington to protest the war in Vietnam. The issue of feminism was not supposed to be raised. But in a keynote speech which drew the line of feminism clearly, Kathie Amatniek said:
"Now, some sisters here are probably wondering why we should bother with such an unimportant matter at a time like this. Why should we bury traditional womanhood while hundreds of human beings are being brutally slaughtered in our names . . . when it would seem that we cannot solve it individually as the Feminist directly to ending this slaughter or else solve what seems to be more desperate problems at home? . . . We must see that we can only solve our problems together, that we cannot solve it individually as the Feminist generation tried to do. We women must organize so that for man there can be no 'other woman' when we begin expressing ourselves and acting politically, when we insist to men that they share the housework and child-care, fully and equally so that we can have independent lives as well."
Ms. Amatniek's syntax may have become somewhat garbled in the heat of her oratory, but the meaning-and the demand-is certainly crystal clear. Perhaps more insight can be gained, however, from an article on "Sisterhood" by the highly intelligent and articulate Gloria Steinem in the preview issue of Ms., The New Magazine for Women. Of her own personal conversion to the movement, Ms. Steinem wrote:
"If it weren't for the Women's Movement, I might still be dissembling away. But the ideas of this great sea-change in women's view of ourselves are contagious and irresistible. They hit women like a revelation, as if we had left a small dark room and walked into the sun.
"At first my discoveries seemed complex and personal. In fact they were the same ones so many millions of women have made and are making. Greatly simplified, they went like this: Women are human beings first, with minor differences from men that apply largely to the act of reproduction. We share the dreams, capabilities, and weaknesses of all human beings, but our occasional pregnancies and other visible differences have been used-even more pervasively, if less brutally, than racial differences have been used-to mark us for an elaborate division of labor that may once have been practical but has since become cruel and false. The division is continued for clear reason, consciously or not: the economic and social profit of men as a group."
If this argument is accepted, it is clear that the modern Women's Liberation movement is something new, not just a continuation of the age-old war between the sexes. It is also clear why the latter-day Feminists feel that they must work as a group to accomplish their aims-and why wise men will take the movement seriously. It does not mean, of course, that individual women will not continue to have their own individual battles to fight, in spite of whatever success they may have as a group.
"Make Her Beg" by Lee de Pepys is the story of one such battle. The heroine is Lucretia Slade, a determined Liberationist and a full college professor, who is fighting for tenure. (Ordinarily, no professor would be granted tenure as early in his or her career as Ms. Slade is at the time of the action, but it is part of her character to want it and struggle for it openly.) The problems opposing her are great, and perhaps even insurmountable-and added to them, for reasons that at first seem rather arbitrary and whimsical, is an implacable and very definitely male enemy, Professor Horatio Wedge.
Professor Wedge does not want to see Professor Slade acquire the tenure she desires, but there is clearly a lot more to it than that. He also wants to get rid of her and in the process he wants to make her suffer as much as possible. His method is to arrange to have her seduced by a male student and then to blackmail her, using photographs he has taken of the act of seduction. His campaign is successful to the point where Lucy Slade almost hands in her resignation. But the story is not quite as simple as that, and the events that follow include many strange twists and many surprises. The outcome, we think, will be difficult for any reader to predict.
We do not know if Lucy is a completely typical Women's Liberationist. We do know that she is a fascinating character, and Lee de Pepys' vivid writing makes her dilemma real and fascinating. As the movement grows, there will undoubtedly be many stories like this, but "Make Her Beg" will always rank, not only as one of the first, but also among the most literate, entertaining, and enlightening.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Quite by accident, Professor Horatio Wedge found out that Professor Lucretia Slade very much wanted tenure in the English Department.
It was a mild surprise.
He was crouched amidst the roses in the Botanical Garden when he heard her say it. Wedge was an impatient man and did not normally walk anywhere, but this particular day was a warm one, one of the first days of an early California spring, it was a Saturday and he didn't really want to go to his office, so, on his way from the faculty parking lot to Hurlburd Hall he had decided to take a stroll through the Botanical Garden. The roses, when he came to them, he thought were beautiful-just coming out-and on impulse he decided to pick one, which was forbidden. He walked back to the third row of bushes to break off a burgundy cherry colored one. He started back to the path and then heard female voices approaching, two of them. Not wanting to be caught red-handed with the purloined rose and therefore face censure from one of his colleagues' wives or worse, a student, he ducked. That is how he came to be crouched amidst the roses when he overheard that Lucy Slade so very much wanted tenure.
Most young professors want tenure, sometime, somewhere; and at thirty-two Wedge himself had only had it three years. And a young professor even works for it, churning out reams of academic trivia those first few years, but most men resign themselves to not getting it. After all, if one school doesn't keep you permanently, you simply go someplace else to teach. Miss Slade was only twenty-seven and had been in the department just two years, although she'd come to her present job from Yale and had taught there a year.
Of course, Wedge could not have been expected to recognize her from his quick glimpse through the bushes, and he didn't know who it was until the other voice said:
"Well, I'll tell you one thing. If they don't give you tenure, the Women's Caucus will tear the English Department apart. Tooth and nail."
"Do you think the threat of that will be enough to make those male chauvinist pigs give in?"
"I would think so."
"Let's sit here. The grass looks nice."
Ahah, Wedge thought, putting "English Department" together with the voices, Lucy Slade and her lover, whatshername, Samantha. That's odd, she was wearing her hair down. He peered, frowning, able to view them as they sat on the slope. Lucy stretched out, leaning back on an elbow and shaking her head, her hair flowing, golden brown, with a sheen in the sunlight. He had no idea she had such nice hair. She had always worn it pinned up, wound tightly around her head and pulled back at the sides, giving her face a severe mien.
Wedge began to look around for an exit. To the right the path curved around the roses; they would undoubtedly hear and see him. If he turned to the left he would have to walk uphill through an open space before he reached cover again. Behind him was an embankment and a brook-the bank was just steep and muddy enough to sap any enthusiasm he might have had for walking down it.
"How can you say that?" Samantha shrieked. Wedge looked back out through the bushes at an expanse of Samantha's back, her vertebrae clearly segmented between her halter top and the crease in her buttocks where, as she sat leaning forward, she spilled out of her hip-huggers. Flat on her back, Lucy slightly raised one knee, her legs longer, her flesh softer than Wedge had imagined, having never given her much thought, actually.
"Good God, Sam. It's nothing that extreme!"
"It's a step backwards from liberation."
"No, I see it as a means of using what we've learned."
"It's enough to make you vomit."
"It's not as if we've never had men before, either of us."
"But to say ... to sit there and tell me that you wouldn't mind making it with a man again? I've never heard anything so scandalous!"
"No, Sam . . ."
"Do you think a man, any man, could make love to you like I have."
"Of course not."
"Putting out for some sexist pig? After all our . . . Christ, it seems the whole movement is bogged down, spinning its wheels."
"Pussy, Pussy, calm down," Lucy purred and the sweet timbre in her voice sent chills up Wedge's spine, "that's not what I have in mind at all. All I said was that the idea of taking a young lover was beginning to have some appeal for me. Now, that's not putting out for some dirty old man. That's making some young innocent put out for you."
"I fail to see the distinction."
"When a man gets to be twenty-five or thirty, he can get pretty hard to manage. But when he's just eighteen or so, he's quite malleable. When they have their first big thing with a woman they generally get ... oh, what's the word? Pussy-whipped! That's it. Now when you're eighteen yourself, it can be a pretty heavy number, pretty dreadful, but if you know the ropes, well, they can be easy to dominate."
"It still sounds dreadful."
"I don't know. I just thought it might be amusing, that's all."
"Whom do you have in mind?"
"Oh, no one in particular. There's a lot of attractive fresh-faced kids around."
"Crap!" Samantha said sulking for a moment before saying, "Well, don't act too hastily."
"Don't worry, Sam," she said, reaching out to take her friend's hand in her own.
They held hands quietly for a minute before Samantha rolled over and kissed Lucy full on the lips. Wedge strained to see. He couldn't believe his eyes-he knew things like this happened, he knew what they did together but he still could not quite take in stride this display of exclusively feminine passion, and when Samantha idly began to fondle the end of Lucy's breast Wedge felt far less casual about it than she did. He huffed on his glasses and scrubbed them with his shirttail.
"No! Not here!" Lucy said, breaking the kiss.
But Samantha ran her hand up Lucretia's skirt--Wedge was again amazed by the naturalness and simplicity of the act as Samantha lifted the skirt and touched home. "No!" Lucy said, clamping her thighs together.
Samantha held her hand in place, however, and the professor would have given a month's salary just then, being a rash man, to view the scene from the opposite direction. "I just want you to admit that I can juice you up more quickly than any man," she said.
"Oh, Sam," Lucy said, obviously touched and for the moment gripping her friend's probing hand with both of hers, "of course you can!"
Lucy tugged the intruding hand away and sat up, looking around in all directions. Wedge drew back where the roses were thickest and when Lucy looked behind herself, her eyes rested a moment on the farthermost roses, the burgundy-colored ones just above the professor's head.
"I've always wanted to make love out on the lawn," Samantha said.
"Me too," Lucy said, "and we will. When I've got tenure we'll even do it in public-but for now we have to cool it."
Having heard enough if he hadn't seen enough, Wedge held his rose by its stem with his teeth as he backed down the embankment on all fours, his imagination so inflamed that he didn't realize he was getting his trouser legs muddy until he stood up next to the creek bed. Clutching his rose, he picked his way along the edge of the stream and out of the garden, brow knitted lost in thought.
Everyone knew that the two were lovers. It was a widely held presumption. Lucretia Slade had been hired as a result of activities of the Women's Caucus, a group of graduate females who had taken it on themselves to oversee the department's treatment of women and criticize hiring practices. Most of them were naturally involved in Women's Lib. Lucy had been a token thrown into their gaping maws to shut them up. It had only partly worked: they had immediately screamed "Tokenism!" But their screams were less shrill, which was perhaps the most the faculty could hope for. Lucy had arrived, man-less. She had not gone on record as having evinced interest in a man in a year and a half, a period during which she was seen in the constant company of several graduates and movement women, and for three or four months now she had been exclusively with Samantha. Everyone assumed the obvious.
"Oh, Wedge!"
As he left the creek-bed and returned to the walk, the professor heard his name called. He started, and then, twiddling his rose, checked his reverie as the two lesbians approached from the Botanical Garden. From the bounce with each step, from the freedom of her jiggle, Wedge discerned that Lucy was naked beneath her turquoise t-shirt. It had lately gotten so he could tell at a glance if his students or his colleagues' wives were wearing bras.
"I see you've been in the garden today, too," Lucy said, eyeing his rose.
"Nice day for it," he said.
"You must have discovered a new path," she said with an obvious look at his muddy pants, smiling amusedly. Samantha looked off, face impassive.
"I slipped and fell," he said, lamely, his eyes dropping from her visibly pointing nipples to his rose before darting up to her eyes.
"I saw those particular roses, too," she said. "But I resisted the temptation."
"I can't resist temptation," he said.
"I guess we'll have to keep you out of the garden, then, won't we?"
"For you," he said. "I'd be pleased if you'd take it."
"I couldn't," she said. "You apparently went to great trouble to get it."
"You look very nice today," he said. "Ravishing. I wish you'd take it."
Samantha snorted silently; she couldn't snort too obviously, Wedge being Eighteenth Century, her own specialty.
"I can't really refuse, if you put it like that," she said. "Thank you." Looking closely at the color of it, she frowned slightly.
"Bye-bye."
"Take care, stumbling around in the garden."
As they walked off, Wedge glanced down at himself with a grimace, then stared after them, chuckling fitfully, rubbing his hands together.
CHAPTER TWO
"Miss Slade has been wearing her hair down," Wedge said as he tilted back in his chair and found a place for his feet on the corner of his desk. "Have you noticed?"
"No. Why?"
"You haven't seen her with her hair down?"
"No, I hardly know who she is. I don't think I've ever spoken to her."
"Well, you really ought to see her with her hair down."
"Why? What's the matter with her hair?"
Wedge sighed in exasperation and sat, hands folded behind his head, looking out of his fourth floor window, his eyes almost as clouded as the sky. "Lew, she's a different woman with her hair down. She's soft and quintessentially feminine. It changes her character."
"You're imagining things."
"She's ripe for a man, ripe for the plucking."
"Crap."
"Lew! Lew, just go look at her," Wedge said, standing and stalking to the door of his office. "I tell you true. See for yourself! See if you couldn't get it up for her!"
"You've got to be kidding!" Llewlyn said, looking wildly about as his professor stood by the open door of his office and pointed down the hall with his arm raised, wondering if Wedge hadn't finally flipped out.
"No, Lew, I kid you not. Just go look at her."
"No."
"Lew, she's sitting in her office with the door open-she was about twenty minutes ago. All you have to do is walk by and glance at her, then come back."
"Why?"
"Do you care about your future?"
"This is blackmail," Lew said, bewildered. Wedge was his dissertation advisor, so he stood and edged toward the door, approaching the man with caution.
"Call it what you like. You can be an obstinate cuss sometimes. Just go look at her. She's on the left."
Wedge was honestly not conscious of his own histrionics. Lucretia Slade had been active in his mind throughout the weekend, and when he'd seen her this afternoon again with her hair down, he knew that action was in order and with his mind abuzz that action had inevitable drama. As Llewlyn trudged down the corridor, he resumed his position behind his desk, thinking, blackmail? What's he mean, blackmail?
Lew ambled back in and sat down, face expressionless.
"Well?"
"I looked at her hair."
"No, Llewlyn. I sent you down to look at the whole woman of which the hair is just one aspect. Did you?"
"You seem to be able to make it with other girls okay, don't you."
"Of course."
"Well then?"
"All right. First, I don't know her. I haven't even spoken to her. Second, from what I know about her I don't think anyone could make it with her-no one with mere cock and balls anyway. I mean, she's Women's Lib up the ass. Third, you can never predict this sort of thing before the fact, you just play hunches. And my hunches are all negative."
"Lew, you're wrong."
"Why's this so important to you?"
"The cause, Lew, the cause."
"What cause? The Anti-Women's Lib Cause?"
"No, the cause of sensuousness, of right, of wanting these women to discover the truth of their own natures."
"You've finally nipped."
"Don't you think people should know the truth of their own natures."
"Of course."
"Okay, then."
"Okay, fine. But that doesn't mean I'll be able to show her something she doesn't want to be shown."
"Lew, do you know anything at all about women?"
"Enough."
"Okay, you should know that all you have to do is get them a little hot under the whiskers, and they'll do most anything."
"Brother."
"What are you doing tonight."
"Nothing with that dame."
"No. My wife and I are going to see Mil-house. Want to come."
"Life of Nixon?"
"Yeah, through his own news clips. Terrifying."
"Sure. I'd like to go," he said. "Okay, come by at seven-thirty."
Llewlyn had always liked Wedge's wife. She was a tall well-built woman and he detected in her a basic kindness, an innocence of spirit, a child's straightforwardness and awe of the universe. He squirmed in the carseat when on the way to the movie, out of the blue, Wedge said to his wife, who was sitting between them, "Ellen, Lew and I are wondering if you ever have any urge to feel two cocks at once."
"Who's wondering about it?" she said. "It sounds like something you'd wonder about, but I doubt if Lew is."
"Of course he is. Aren't you, Lew?"
"Sure," Lew said.
"Well, I don't know if I've ever had that particular urge or not," she said.
"You ought to give it some thought," he said. "I think it's very important for people to be in touch with their fantasy life."
Ellen's calm demeanor told little, but Lew thought that her husband's crassness made her somewhat uncomfortable. But that particular bit of conversation went no further and on the way home from the movie they talked about the career of Tricky Dick. Wedge had been thirteen years old when Nixon had given the famous Checkers Speech which had kept him on the
Presidential ticket, and he had always wanted to see it. When the Wedges asked him in for a drink Lew accepted as a matter of course. Often, the three of them had had a shot of brandy together after going somewhere.
Before he'd been inside twenty minutes he'd begun to squirm again. He'd forgotten how flipped-out Wedge was. The man was possessed, demonic-as if out to prove something, as if working out his feelings about Miss Slade on his wife. Before twenty minutes had passed Wedge, sitting beside Ellen on the couch, had asked her to show the two of them her tits and, when refused, had unzipped his pants to haul out his pecker. It stood ramrod stiff, massive and blue-veined, its foreskin half-peeled from its vermilion tip.
"Touch it," he ordered her. "No," she said. "Put it away before you embarrass Lew."
"This isn't going to embarrass Lew." Lew was speechless.
"Lew, doesn't this embarrass you?" Ellen asked.
Wedge frowned.
"No," Lew croaked.
"It ought to," she said.
"It doesn't," he protested. "Really." He was being honest, basically: rather than embarrassing him it took him by surprise.
"Lew, come over here and sit with us," Wedge said.
"Be careful of him, Lew," she said. "What's the matter? Don't you like Lew."
"I'm very fond of Lew," she said. "Come here," Wedge said, "and pull out your cock."
Lew took a seat on the other side of Ellen and, not knowing what else he could do, unzipped his fly to free his penis, which was semi-erect, a proud organ, its uncircumcised glans a deep red.
"Isn't it a nice one?" Wedge said.
"Oh!" she said glancing down at it in surprise. "Why yes, it is."
But even while admiring it she kept a respectful distance drawing back a bit as if to get out of range, and Wedge was quick to perceive that no matter how quick she was to admit that it was indeed a nice one that didn't mean she wanted to have anything to do with it. Or at least it would take some persuasion to get her to admit to it.
A hand on her shoulder Wedge said, "Why don't you show us your tits?"
"No!"
"We showed you; now you show us."
"Why should I? You've seen my tits a million times and what makes you think Lew wants to see them?"
"He told me so."
"Oh did he? Exactly how did he say it?" she demanded looking now at Lew quizzically.
"Well," Lew replied, "we were walking across campus this afternoon and saw three nice-looking freshman girls, and Harry said, 'Wow, they're turning them out better every year.' And I said, 'Yeah, but none of them compares to Ellen.'" Lew relaxed a little, somewhat amazed at his own powers of invention-still, it was in character for both of them, he supposed.
Wedge spoke up, taking the ball. "And so then I asked him, 'Why have you taken a fancy to Ellen?' and he said 'I've always admired her -to me, she's always represented full-fledged womanly sex appeal.' That's what he said."
"Did you say that, Lew?" Ellen asked, frankly dubious yet at the same time oddly touched that he might have said it.
Not wanting to be unkind, Lew said "Of course I said it. It's true, too." He placed his hand on her shoulder, gave her a squeeze and tentatively left it there.
"That was a nice thing to say," she said.
Her hands were folded in her lap. Her husband reached for one and pried it gently away from the other and over into his lap. She wrapped her fingers around his up-thrusting cock. Lew took her other hand and gave it a tug in the direction of his own now fully erect cock, she reached out and clutched it, too, fondling it lightly.
"Isn't that nice?" Wedge asked.
"Oh yes it is nice" she said wonderingly. "It's like holding two very delicate birds newly hatched." She was quiet for a moment as she continued to fondle with both hands and then said, "So much manpower, it's overwhelming. It's almost frightening."
Wedge pulled his preoccupied wife's sweater out at the waist and now reached up in back with one hand to unhook her brassiere, but when he began to pull her sweater up in front, she immediately dropped both cocks and crossed her arms across her chest.
"Come on, let us play with your tits a little," Wedge said. ' "No!"
"Don't you want to play with her tits, Lew?"
"Yes!" Lew said, almost shouting, thinking he either wanted to play with them or quit talking about them.
Both men put a hand on Ellen's tummy and began to nudge beneath her sweater and tightly crossed arms. Lew saw the expression in her face softening as they caressed her sides and stomach and on impulse he bent forward and kissed her lips. She blinked her eyes and kissed back, giving his tongue-tip one lick with hers before she said "Well, okay, but just my tits. Nothing else."
She leaned back and slowly unfolded her arms, and, blushing furiously, looked down at her own chest as they lifted her sweater and bra. Her pendulous breasts swung free and settled bouncingly on her ribcage. What each of the three saw was a quick blur of ample softness with a puckered red-brown berry at its center before each man simultaneously seized a nipple with his teeth, harvesting it with his mouth as they began to nip and tongue her with rare fervor, burying their faces in her and squeezing and mauling her with their hands.
"Ohhhhh!" Ellen moaned from deep within as her hands shot to the backs of their heads to pull them, their working mouths even more tightly onto her throbbingly tender erect nipples. Her chest heaving, she began to twist from side to side, mashing her tits into their eager faces as she groped for their pricks with her hands. She found her husband's at once and fumbled for Lew's until he rolled his hips, presenting it to her. She squeezed and began undulating her hand like she was milking a cow and Lew's hips jerked in reflex. She watched him as he rolled her saliva-moistened erect nipple on his eyelid, shutting his eyes with their somewhat curly lashes to do so, and felt a great sense of tenderness towards him.
Her husband had in the meanwhile undone her belt and unzipped her skirt, and now began to tug it off over her hips. She rolled from buttock to buttock as, his thumbs hooked in, he pulled off her skirt, pantyhose and panties in one swoop, dropping them to her ankles. She had without thinking about it kicked one ankle free when her husband said, "Let's take a look at her pussy."
"No!" Ellen said, her stomach doing a flip-flop, suddenly wondering what had gotten into her to let him take her skirt off. But before she could utter another word she was flat on her back with her legs obscenely spread, each of them having taken one and pulled to get her ass out to the edge of the sofa, then quickly doubled them back until her knees almost touched the couch on either side of her shoulders. Knowing that her crotch was hideously exposed, she squirmed to free herself, but wiggled her ass and legs and flexed her tummy to no avail as the two began, calmly, to discuss what they saw.
Really, she thought, her husband had always said that part of the joy of being married to a beautiful woman was being able to show her off, but this was carrying it too far!
Her tingling pussy had begun to seep its lubricant the moment they'd attacked her tits, and when quartered her deep musk wafted up to their nostrils. Her hairy lips with their fluffy jet black curls were drawn tight to expose the wetly glistening wrinkles of her inner lips, which were slightly parted. Her clitoris budded nakedly forth and the pucker of her anus cringed in its furrow.
"It's a pretty pussy, don't you think?" her husband was asking.
"Marvelous, marvelous," Lew kept saying. "She uses it well, too."
"I bet she does."
Acutely embarrassed, Ellen could have sworn she was blushing down there. Her innards knotted up in apprehension as she felt her tingling twat gush more of its lubricant, the fluid oozing forth just as Lew placed his finger on her hairy lip just to one side of her vagina to stretch its tight opening. With her husband pulling at her from the other side, they opened her to view those steamily pink vaginal folds literally drenching themselves. She bubbled over before their eyes a driblet running slowly down to become lost in the pucker of her anus.
"It's a tight, slick goodie," Wedge said, and as if to demonstrate he suddenly rammed two fingers into the aching orifice, entering her to the hilt in one smooth movement and bringing a moan to her lips. Her tummy quaked and she continued to moan as he twisted his fingers into her depths, tickling her cervix, "Oh! Oh! Oooohhhh!"
"Smells like vanilla," Lew said.
"Why don't you taste it," her husband said, and Ellen was horrified that her husband could so casually offer a student her most intimate parts, offering her to be sampled in the same tone of voice he would have used to offer hors d'oeuvres from a tray.
Lew covered her exposed delicacy with his wide-open, hotly working mouth and she gasped. When the full breadth and length of his tongue slithered across her clit and into her honey-pot, the gasping lady clutched blindly at the sofa cushion with both hands, the whiteness in her knuckles evidence of her wound-up animal lust. Her eyes blinked open when her husband pressed his massively erect prick to her lips. She opened her crimson mouth to receive it, her lips tightly encircling its velvety head which she proceeded to tongue briskly. The professor's hand went to the back of her neck, entwining in her hair as he pulled her feverish mouth farther onto his shaft. He then slid from the couch and she moved with him, attached to his manhood like a suckerfish as he lowered himself to the floor and spread his legs, between which his wife knelt on all fours.
Lew had ceased eating her pussy when the impaled woman was dragged by the hair from the couch and he now watched intently as she sucked her husband's cock, her cheeks forming hollows as she worked. Her ass was in the air and her legs slightly spread, the sopping pink folds of her quim all too vulnerable. As if reading Lew's thoughts, Wedge asked, "Well, do you want to fuck her, or don't you?"
"Shit-yes!"
"Get over here and shove it in, then."
Her mouth utterly full of cock, a cock which thrust at her uvula and depressed her squirming tongue, Ellen didn't hear her husband offer her, but she was not exactly surprised when Lew knelt behind her, forcing his knees between hers and adjusting her hips as he centered himself on her tingling twat. Ellen arched her back and reached behind herself with both hands to dig her fingers into her snatch on either side of her orifice, spreading her gash, her wrinkled lips stretching into a circle around her gaping cunt-mouth. Lew guided his cock into her creamy center, peering down at her as he nudged his glans into her primed aperture. As soon as he was securely lodged, he grasped her firmly by the hips with both hands, entered her to the hilt, slamming into her with such force that the knob at the end of her husband's cock rammed past her uvula and into her throat as she squealed through her nose. Her mouth was too full for her to protest verbally, but she opened it as wide as possible, gasping for breath as she repositioned her head so that with the next brutal thrust it lodged in her throat rather than in her windpipe.
A look of bliss stole over Wedge's face as he gripped her by the ears. Tears formed momentarily in Ellen's eyes as she wondered why they had to be so rough. Lew held her hips steady as he pulled his own hips back and rammed her. Each time his hips shot forward, her body likewise propelled forward-like a pinball hit by the plunger in a pinball machine-ramming her husband's cock farther into her throat, further gagging her and numbing her mind.
Ellen had stiff pricks sticking mercilessly into each end of her. She was being brutalized and was powerless to do anything about it. Would she survive? she found herself wondering, and if so, would she ever be the same? Would either she or her husband ever be able to look Lew in the eye again?
But her attention did not stray for long from the plundering cocks and she now focused her mind on them, intently first on one and then on the other, her mind working like an alternating circuit, an overloaded circuit. Heat began to build inexorably in her cunt and she had no control over it. Saliva drooled from one corner of her mouth and dripped onto Harry's pubic mat.
"A hell of a cunt on her," Lew said.
"She can throw a pretty wild fuck," Wedge said. Then added, almost as an afterthought, "Sucks like a madwoman, too."
"Urgg," Ellen moaned.
The doubly pierced lady was beginning to anticipate the stresses-Lew's prick plowing her cunt and her husband's in her mouth. There was a steady slap, slap as Lew's testicles beat out a tattoo on her pubic triangle. Ellen's toes tingled, her mind reeled, and she felt shocks all up and down her spine.
Partly in reaction to those pulsing shocks and the growing ache in her cunt, and partly in self-defense against the battering she was taking, she began to buck her body. She arched her back suddenly with each thrust from the rear and found herself gripping her husband's cock more firmly with her mouth to prevent it sliding quite so far down her hapless throat, tightening her lips into a thinly compressed ring and wiggling her tongue as wildly as possible; and at the same time she ground her cunt with increasing force against Lew's prong as if that might be a way of getting a better grip on what was happening back there.
Before long, mind and body buzzing in unison, Ellen began to snap her waist from side to side, gyrating her pussy on the one cock while her mouth twisted in semi-circles on the other, her pendulous breasts flapping on the floor with audible smacks, her tenderly erect nipples scraping back and forth on the carpet.
Two overheated cocks were almost too much for the poor woman to bear. Groaning, "Ummm-hh! Ummmhh! Ummmhhh!" through her nose, knowing that she couldn't keep it up a minute longer without exploding inside or screaming, she tilted her belly toward the floor, leaning forward to put all the tongue-tingling pressure she could on the one cock and whipping her head wildly from side to side as if by use solely of her sucking mouth she was going to rip it out by the root while her aching breasts went smash smash smash rubbing in one place now on the rug; all the while she kept her belly curved toward the floor to cant her pussy up for Lew and spreading her legs even more to allow him to plunder her throbbingly hurting twat with greater ease. He pounded into her with enough raw force to send her over the threshold; when she felt her orgasm begin to wrack her, she cradled Lew's balls with one hand and reached down to grab her husband's scrotum with the other. She moaned mindlessly through her nose as she squeezed their nuts, grinding her hips down hard on Lew with his next thrust, clenching her cunt muscles and not letting go: both men came at once.
"Ahh! Ahhh! Agghhh!" Wedge moaned as she gobbled at him, her cheeks filling as he emptied one spurt after another into her too fast to swallow, filling her cheeks chipmunk-like with gism as she refused to spill any.
"Ohhhuuu . . . God! Uh, uh," moaned Lew as she stayed determinedly clenched on him, her ass cheeks quivering as she pumped back while he rode her almost to the floor, as with one back-breaking lunge after another he spewed a load of cum into her twitching quim.
A spent Ellen sagged to the floor as an equally spent Lew rocked back on his heels, his cock coming out of the woman with a low plop. A thin thread of semen ran from the corner of her mouth to her husband's dwindling organ, and when it snapped she licked her lips and swallowed.
"That was something," Lew said.
"Ever bang a finer piece?" Wedge asked.
"No."
"I don't think I'll ever be the same," Ellen said. "For awhile there I was afraid that between you, you were going to batter me to a pulp." She wrinkled her lips, twisting her mouth around as if to get it on straight again, while she gingerly touched her crotch with her fingertips.
"You liked it, didn't you?" Wedge asked. "I don't know."
"Wha'd'ya mean, you don't know?"
"I mean, it took me by surprise and I'll have to think about it."
"You were hot as hell," he said.
"Of course I got hot!" she exclaimed. "What did you expect, poking at me with two cocks and the both of you sucking on me and everything? Who wouldn't have gotten hot?"
"Well, I don't know," Wedge said, lightly. "Lew thinks he knows a lady professor who wouldn't get hot."
"That's what I don't know if I like about it," she continued. "What if you got me accustomed to this? What if I had to have two cocks to get turned on? What would you do then?"
"I guess Lew would have to move in with us,"
Wedge said. "How about that, Lew? Would you like to fuck her again?"
"Of course I would. But I wouldn't touch her unless I was sure she wanted me to," he said. "If she swore right now that there was no chance she'd ever want to, that would be like being condemned to second-rate fucks for the rest of my life. I couldn't stand it."
"That's a very sweet thing to say," she said.
"It's not just sweet, I mean it."
"I know you do."
"No one's going to force you to do anything you don't want to do," Wedge said. "All we wanted to do was open your eyes to the possibilities of experience. Isn't that right, Lew?"
"I guess so."
"I think that's important for everyone," Wedge said, speaking to no one in particular.
The three talked for awhile longer and then Lew put his pants on and left, kissing Ellen and shaking hands with the professor. Wedge told him to come to his office at eleven in the morning, without asking if that time was convenient; a command which struck Lew as being slightly ominous.
When Lew knocked and entered, Wedge sat tilted back in his chair with his feet on the corner of the desk, his hands folded behind his head. He sat in silence, a blandly dreaming look on his face, for a long minute after Lew had entered, then said, "Well, you're going to get into Miss Slade's pants a lot sooner than you thought you would-you lucky dog."
Lew felt like laughing out loud, like throwing up his hands in exasperation. He held himself in check and asked, by all appearance being quite matter-of-fact, "Oh. When am I going to get into her pants?"
"Tonight," Wedge said, being genuinely matter-of-fact.
"Oh. Does she know yet that I'm going to get into her pants tonight."
"What," Lew sputtered, "what on god's green earth makes you think I'm going to get anywhere with her? Ever?"
"Your curly eyelashes. The fact that you look eighteen or nineteen."
"I'm twenty-three!" he shouted.
"Yes, but you could tell someone, anyone, you're nineteen and they'd believe you."
"Like Miss Slade?"
"That's right. Your look of youthful innocence will win her."
"What am I supposed to do? Stand out in front of her house or something, batting my eyelashes?"
"No. I told her that I was planning to have a small party, and asked her if she would like to come. She consented, and so I've begun to invite people. You happen to be the first one I've gotten around to inviting."
"I don't want to come! I don't want to have to make a pass at her!"
"Think of it as a duty, then. An obligation."
"I don't have any obligations to the Women's Lib Movement. I don't care if they want to delude themselves."
"No, to me."
"To you?"
"I'd say you owe me a favor."
"I probably owe you several favors, but this goes beyond ..."
"Lew, I made my wife fuck you last night, didn't I?"
"Yes," Lew croaked, turning pale.
"I handed you her sweet ass on a platter, dear woman. Now, wouldn't you say that puts you in my debt?"
"Yes."
"Aren't you the least bit grateful? Ellen would be hurt . . ."
"Of course I'm grateful."
"Well then?"
"Well shit. If I go anywhere near that madwoman, she'll cut off my balls."
Wedge thought for a moment. "If you don't want that to happen, you're going to have to do it exactly like I tell you to."
"Anything you say," Lew said, visibly shaken, resigned.
"Okay, first, tell her you're nineteen, and a senior. Tell her you graduated from high school when you were sixteen and have made it through here in three years. That'll impress her. Also, if she's wondering why you're at a party at a professor's house, she'll know it's because you're bright. Got that?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, first time you're alone with her, make a grab for her. It doesn't matter how awkward or sloppy, just grab her goodies."
"Oh no," Lew said. "That's when she gets my nuts!"
"No, it'll get her ruffled, but get suddenly very apologetic and tell her you've never had any experience with a woman before. That'll touch her, and make her want to show you how."
"What if she doesn't believe me?"
"Tell her only very bright women appeal to you, and you've never had a chance to get to know any, since you've studied so hard."
"Okay."
"Next, if Women's Lib doesn't come up, bring it up. Tell her you approve of their goals, but you don't understand why they dislike men so much."
"When am I supposed to get her alone and tell her all this? What if she brings her girlfriend?"
"She will bring her, but I'll take care of her," Wedge said. "So don't worry about that. Now, you know my basement? You know how to get into it and everything?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, now here's what you do . .
CHAPTER THREE
At about eight, Samantha arrived, complaining loudly about having to go to Wedge's party. Lucy hushed her by saying she didn't have to come-adding that she herself had to go, unable to afford offending a member of the tenure committee-and continued to brush her hair.
"Do you like him?"
"I think he's amusing. Why, don't you"?"
"Oh, he's masculine in the bad sense of the word, but he knows the Eighteenth Century." Samantha moped for a few minutes, then said, "Oh! Hey, guess what I read about today?"
"What?" Lucy asked, distractedly.
"I read about the perfect test for clitoral responses."
"Your clitoral responses are fine, dear."
"I don't know. I know my sexual response in general is fine-I mean, men turn me off, women turn me on, and I like to have frequent orgasms-but do I really know about my clitoris? Can I come by clitoral manipulation alone, by dwelling solely on the clitoris?"
"I have dwelt on your clitoris for hours sometimes with my tongue," Lucy said, "and I can assure you that it make you come."
"No," Samantha said, frowning, "you tend to eat my entire pussy."
"So . . . ?"
"So the latest Women's Lib manual says that you can never assume that you're entirely free from any need for a male until you've passed the test."
"What test?"
"I'll show you. Do you have a piece of heavy paper?"
Lucy gave Samantha a piece of 20-pound test typing paper and watched curiously as the girl folded it into quarters, and then with a pair of cuticle scissors nipped off a tiny piece of the folded corner, frowning in concentration. When she unfolded it there was a tiny hole in the center of the piece of paper, a hole maybe a quarter inch in circumference.
"What's that for?"
"You put it over your clitoris-your clit points through the hole-and in effect you've isolated your clitoris so that any manipulation, whether oral or manual, is directed solely at it."
"Diabolic. Don't you think it would hurt?"
"How?"
"Won't the sharp edges of the paper hurt your clit?"
"Oh. Well you have to be careful of that. The book says that if you do it as a habit you tend to get calluses."
"A callused clitoris-that would be a disaster!" Lucy laughed. "Will you do it to me?"
"I don't know if there's time. We have to be at Wedge's in twenty minutes."
"I can't wait to try it."
"Okay, but let's hurry. Take off your panties."
Samantha skimmed out of both her skirt and panties and lay back on the bed, her legs doubled back and holding her knees, grinning unabashedly. Lucy put down her hairbrush and eyed her friend's love nest with its reddish blond fuzz as she picked up the piece of paper with a hole in it. She knelt at the edge of the bed, inspecting more closely the exposed pink ridge of Samantha's sex, its delicate lips slightly parted and quivering, and her impulse as ever was simply to begin eating it. But she brought the piece of paper up, attempted to center it, lowered it to get better bearings on the glistening delicacy, and again attempted to align the hole with the peeping bud of Sam's clit.
"Ouch!" Samantha said. "What're you doing!"
"You're not excited," she said.
"I am too excited," she protested. "You know I begin to juice the minute your mouth comes within twelve inches of my pussy."
"Oh, you're getting juicy," Lucy said. "What I mean is that your clit isn't quite erect." And as if to demonstrate that she was moistening, she absently traced a finger across Sam's labia and glided its tip into her sweetness, churning the pink folds.
"No!" Samantha protested. "Not that way! This is a test for the clitoris alone!"
"Yours is such a scrumptious goodie, I almost forgot," Lucy said.
Lucy rapidly glided her hand under Samantha's blouse and onto her breast. Samantha's were firm little mounds and she never bothered with a brassiere. Lucy squeezed the familiar handful of breast and then gave its tender nipple four or five rapid flicks with her fingertip. Samantha blinked. Simultaneously, her nipple sprang to life and her clitoris thrust to erection. Samantha grunted through her nose, "Uhhh!"
Lucy centered the paper and molded it to Sam's crotch, holding it in place with both hands, the pink bud of her clit extending maybe three-eighths of an inch through the hole. It was so naked, so feeble, Lucy thought, wasn't it odd that this helpless little nerve-ending was the center, the source, of all feminine sexuality? Maybe it was true that the cunt proper was somewhat irrelevant to orgasm and to sex itself.
She craned her neck, tongue extended, to lick the smooth little knob. She swished her tongue-tip all around it, then moistened her full lips and captured the starkly quivering bud between them and rubbed her lips together in a motion like that of wiping or blotting excess lipstick on a Kleenex, then brought her tongue again into play, grinding its tip on the pinioned, thrusting tendril.
Samantha's entire pelvis reared up off the mattress and she gripped Lucy's head between her thighs, her legs flying over her lover's shoulders as she gyrated, yelping, "Oh! Oh! Oh! It's too much! It's too direct! Oh, stop! I can't bear it! No! It's too . . . too, oh!"
Lucy worked her lips and tongue without letting up, ignoring for the moment the ringing in her ears brought on by Sam's banging them with her thighs, watching the helpless girl bite her lip, whipping her head from side to side, her stomach pumping in and out like a belly dancer's. And Lucy thought, this is what I like about Sam, the very nakedness of her excitement. Her body is so thin that when I make love to it I feel all of her reactions . . . Sam threw her head back, lips curled back to bare her teeth, squealing, "Ah . . . Ah . . . Aiiiieeeee!" as her twitching clit went haywire.
The girl sagged to the bed. Lucy drew back, looking at her drooping clit, noticing the wetness of the paper just beneath, wet from the girl's gushing juices. On impulse, Lucy bent forward and thrust her tongue through the soaked paper and into Sam's honey-pot, tonguing the folds at the mouth of her vagina for a moment before she realized that her own pussy had begun to lubricate itself. She got off the bed and sat in the chair by her dresser.
"That was nice," Samantha said when she'd gotten her breath. "Now I know-I'll never need a man again."
When Lucy didn't speak, Samantha said, "Why don't you let me do it to you now, so you'll know you'll never need a man? Never have any use for one?"
"I don't think we have time," Lucy said.
"What's this secret desire you have to screw a man?" Samantha yelled. "Don't you think it's a little perverse?"
"I don't have any secret desire to screw a man," Lucy said.
"No, I guess you're admitting it blatantly," she said, sadly.
"I don't have any urgent desire to do anything with a man," Lucy said. "But in the back of my mind I entertain the notion that, someday, it might be a pleasant experience to utterly dominate a man. There's nothing perverse at all about that."
"So you'll find someone who'll let you play your game for awhile, but will end up using you sexually," Sam protested.
"No, it's a matter of your using your sex, if necessary, to master him."
"I suppose it could happen that way," Sam conceded, "but what if it happens the other way around?"
"What other way around."
"What if a man masters your cunt, and therefore you?"
"Impossible," Lucy said, firmly.
"Let me give you the clit test," Sam said.
"No."
"Why not? Are you mad at me."
"Of course not. But we'll never get to Wedge's party."
"Didn't you get turned on."
"Sure."
"Then let me do you."
Lucy looked at her watch. "Mmmm. All right. Use the vibrator, though."
Samantha reached into the bed stand drawer and drew out the Cordless Massager which was manufactured from a rather uninteresting white plastic, which was about the size and shape of the average prick and battery operated. Samantha flicked the switch at its base and it began its quiet hum, visibly shaking in her hand. She patted the bed beside her.
"No," Lucy said. "Do me here. Otherwise we'll get too involved."
Without further ado Lucy repositioned herself on the chair, scooting her butt out to the very edge as she lifted her skirt and pulled her panties aside, revealing between her widespread thighs the deep pink-red puff of her pussy, its lips sensuously full and slightly moistened, her auburn muff fluffed out wispily on either side of it. "Come, come," she said.
"I see you want a real quickie," Samantha giggled.
"Yes," she said, impatiently, parting the salivating gewgaw with crooked forefingers, exposing to closer inspection the tight folds of the cun-tmouth. Samantha swore that Lucy had fuller lips and more folds in her cunt than any she'd ever eaten, and she'd eaten maybe two dozen. Two dozen versus one cock, a statistic of which she was proud. Her experience with that one man, although it had happened several times, had been a mistake, the mistake of a seventeen-year-old who was given a line of bull for the first and last time in her life.
A kneeling Samantha bent forward at the waist to pay homage with her mouth, her eager tongue darting swish, swish from one end of Lucy's bubbling sex slit to the other.
"Don't lick it!" Lucy protested. "We'll get too involved, we'll be here all night."
She was right, Samantha knew, and she rocked back from her succulents with a resigned sigh and brought the vibrator into play. At first she worked Lucy with just the rounded tip of the implement, watching those proudly puffed labia jiggle in reaction to it, the clitoris stand achingly up. Then she worked the mouth of the orifice itself, her wrist twisting in tiny circles as Lucy's pussy seeped lubricant onto the surrogate organ. Then she inserted the dildo, watching intently, touching her own upper lip with her tongue, as Lucy's nether lips parted, stretching into a ring to accept the massager, four or five inches of the actively tingling vibrator disappearing into her snatch slowly and smoothly.
Lucy gasped and gasped again, sitting up a bit straighter as each new depth of her inmost parts was probed. "Oh!" she moaned. "That's nice! My clit, too! Play with my clit!"
Samantha began working the instrument in and out of Lucy's clasping twat while with her free hand she began working her clitoris, beating it back and forth between two fingers. Lucy, any semblance of calm shattered, began moaning constantly, rocking back and forth from one tensed buttock to the other on the edge of the chair as Sam plunged the massager into her pulsing cunt.
Lucy wore a scoop-neck dress, its bodice gathered into an elastic band, and she reached into it and scooped out her breasts, squeezing them, flicking her own nipples to life, offering them to Sam who when she saw them being jiggled at her, lifted her head to allow Lucy to feed them into her mouth while she continued to work her pussy with her hands. They were pliant breasts which begged for a squeeze, graced with handsome pink-brown areolas and long tender nipples.
By force of her own exuberance Lucy slipped from the edge of the chair, almost falling on top of Samantha before she caught herself and remained perched like that: legs spread wide and at a half-squat as she humped up and down on the vibrator, mashing her tits into Sam's eager face, taking quick little breaths through flaring nostrils, moaning mewling little moans, "Oh, ohh, ooohh!" and helpless with the knowledge that every fold in her cunt was vibrating in time with the plunging implement.
Samantha singled out one tit and clamped down on it, sucking the whole end of it into her mouth and biting slightly as she flicked the nipple briskly against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. At the same time she rammed the plunger with increasing force into her gushing pulsing twat, continuing to beat her clit with her other hand and, with each upward plunge, Lucy's body jerked reflexively from the knees up, then dropped as rapidly, her cunt hungrily impaling itself, all the while grunting, 'Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!"
Then she exploded, beginning with the one muscle in her pulsating pussy she went into a St. Vitus' dance, yelping, "Ah! Ah! Agghhh!" whipping her head as her cunt spasmed and her spine jerked, her long auburn hair flying, before she collapsed in her lover's arms.
Samantha collapsed beneath Lucy and held her in her arms until the spent woman caught hold of herself, when she reached between her legs to pull out the vibrator, which was still vibrating and barely protruded past her lips. It came out with a low sucking sound and she shut it off and lay it aside, then rolled off Samantha, saying, "Wow! That was a something quickie! But I don't know if I'll be able to use my legs for the rest of the week."
The muscles in her left thigh still twitched from the strain of hunching the vibrator. She flexed her legs and stood, holding the bureau for support, her knees weak and her head spinning slightly.
Samantha reached into her purse, which was on the floor by the bed, and got her comb. She began idly combing out her muff, and Lucy said, "Come on. We're ten minutes late already."
CHAPTER FOUR
The two women had such an aura of feminine placidity and calm that Lew doubted any man could crack it. They looked so smugly self-possessed that knowing he was going to have to make an attempt he broke into a cold sweat a moment after they breezed in the door. Miss Slade acknowledged her cursory introduction to him with a minimal raising of an eyebrow-and Samantha, with not so much as that-then proceeded to talk to Professor Greenwald, while Samantha spoke to one of the wives, and Lew knew that his assignment for the night was an impossible one.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye -beginning any student's preliminary study of the subject at hand-and when she leaned back to listen to something Samantha had to say to her she was slightly off-balance and for a full thirty seconds she presented Lew a clear view of the insides of her thighs. He saw that her skin was smoothly silken from her kneecaps to the silk of her panties, which tightly covered her pouting mound. And when Samantha had finished whispering her secret, Lucy righted herself; when she closed her legs, the fleshy parts of her thighs closing on each other with that movement, Lew became acutely aware of just how soft, how pliantly soft her flesh was.
This sudden realization of her desirability unnerved him all the more. To approach destruction out of duty or obligation was one thing (and, desiring self-preservation, one was able to watch one's opportunity to exit), but to approach destruction out of compulsion or desire was a completely different matter, because obsession blinds one to one's naturally occurring escapes. Having watched the woman for no more than ten minutes, a jittery Lew set his bourbon and soda on the floor by his chair, wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs, and, while Wedge had his back to him, crept into the kitchen, making a beeline for the back door.
Ellen Wedge stood at the counter, arranging crackers on a tray. At the sight of the woman, Lew remembered her husband's implied threat: "Ellen would be hurt if she thought you hadn't appreciated her." On impulse, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding, Lew grasped the woman by the shoulders from behind.
Feeling the tension in the hands which grabbed her but not knowing whose hands they were, Ellen's head whipped around, fright in her eyes until she saw the wrought-up lad who was, after a fashion, her lover.
"Ellen," he said, lips trembling, "I just wanted you to know that you're a fine woman. You're the finest fuck I ever had . .
"Shh!" she hushed him, for his voice was a little loud and she feared it would carry into the living room.
". . . and I'll always be grateful for it," he continued, his voice only somewhat better modulated. "You have no idea how much it meant to me, and how much it will always mean to me."
"That's sweet, Lew," she said, smiling at the youth and genuinely touched by him. She was well aware that he was fond of her and that he had enjoyed putting it to her the night before, but she had no idea until that moment that there was any possibility he might fall in love with her, that his emotions for her might run out of control. She turned to caress his cheek. Compulsively, his hands went to her breasts and he gripped them tightly.
They jumped apart, startled when the kitchen door swung open behind them, and both were relieved that the person to catch them in their embrace was the lady's husband.
"Now, now," Wedge said. "I'm glad you two have taken a shine to each other, but this is neither the time nor the place . . ."
"We know," Ellen said.
"I have to go now, and I was just saying goodbye," Lew said, abruptly turning to the kitchen door and opening it.
Ellen thought it was odd that Lew should have to leave so early and was about to urge him to reconsider as he stood in the doorway, holding the door open with one hand as he casually waved so long with his other, but at that moment his eyes locked for a silent still moment with her husband's and the next thing she knew Lew had lit out the door like lightning with her husband right on his tail. She thought it was even more peculiar a moment later when she finally managed to focus her eyes in the semi-darkness of their backyard to see her husband pulling on Lew's earlobe as he spoke slowly and steadily. She couldn't make out what he said, but plainly heard Lew wail, "No! I don't want to!"
Her husband continued to speak to the lad, pulling continuously on the youth's earlobe so that his head bent closer and closer to the ground. They must have reached some sort of agreement or something because pretty soon her husband let go of Lew and patted him on the back. They stood out there in the dark a few minutes longer, talking quietly and then came back in, trooping through the kitchen without either of them giving her a glance, which struck her as the strangest thing of all.
With Lew standing just behind him, Wedge appraised the situation among his guests-who numbered maybe ten in all-wondering how to engineer a tete a tete betwixt Lew and Miss Slade, when Greenwald stood up, excused himself, and headed for the bathroom. Wedge moved in, with Lew right behind him, saying, "Lucy, I want you to meet Lew. He's a bit young for a senior but he thinks he wants to go to Yale next year and I thought you might not mind telling him about the graduate program there."
"Sure," she said, giving him an appraising look. "How young are you, anyway?"
Lew blushed slightly, thinking this was all a bunch of crap, and said, "Uh, nineteen."
She gave the reddening youth and his curly eyelashes another curious once-over and said, "Hmm, when did you start?"
"Here? Three years ago."
"Hmm," she said, pursing her lips. "Well, you might make it at Yale. It's an intensely competitive place . . ."
Wedge picked up her drink and refreshed it, going quite heavy on the gin, and brought Lew another bourbon. And when he left them a second time, Lucy was saying, "Of course, some of these problems you won't have, not being a woman."
"Why?" Lew said. "Are they prejudiced against women there? I don't know if I'd want to go any place where they're prejudiced against women."
Ah! Wedge thought, knowing Lew would come through in the clinch, and he left them again just as Lucy said, "Where have you been? Of course they're prejudiced against women! I don't think you could find a school -outside of those exclusively for women-where they aren't . . ."
His spirits rising, Wedge hosted, refilling drinks, pausing here and there to exchange a few comments with his other guests, so effervescent and attentive that none of them suspected that they were all of secondary interest to him. He kept a careful eye on the would-be twosome. He wanted to give them enough of a chance to chat to spark Lucy's interest, but not enough of a chance to blow Lew's cover. All they needed now was for Hoskins to walk over and ask Lew about his damned dissertation.
Things seemed to be going well, though. Both were bending their heads and talking in low tones. When Samantha freed herself from Mrs. Hoskins and moved over to give her attention to the duo, undoubtedly hoping to put a damper on things, Wedge saw that it was time to make their move.
Approaching her from the far side, Wedge said, "Samantha, guess what I have?"
"What?" she asked, mildly annoyed at being interrupted by him.
"A first edition of an Aphra Behn," he said, beaming broadly.
"My god!" Samantha exclaimed. "What?"
"The Rover Boys. Would you like to come see it?"
"Sure. You have it here?"
He winked at Lew as the girl followed him away, up to his study. He'd had no doubts that a first edition Aphra Behn would be enough of a lure to drag her away. Not only was she intending to do her own dissertation of Aphra, but Aphra was the first woman ever to earn her living by writing. Naturally, she was something of a landmark, or heroine, to women in the movement who knew about her. Wedge had possessed the volume for years.
"It's awfully smoky in here," Lew said. "I think I'd like to step out for a breath of fresh air. How about you?"
It had become quite smoky in part because Wedge had left three cigars burning in ashtrays at different points near them.
"Yeah, I think so too," she said.
Lew had seen Ellen go back into the kitchen, and so he took Lucy out the front door. They stood on the front porch for a few minutes as they talked. Lew began edging toward the side of the house, with Lucy ambling slowly along beside him.
"Hey, there's a light on in Wedge's basement," he said. And then, giving her a shyly conspiratorial look, "Shall we go investigate?"
"Investigate Wedge's basement. What in the world do you think we'll find?"
"I don't know. Come on," he said as he led her around to the entrance at the side of the house. "Anyway, the thing I don't understand about Women's Lib is why you hate men so much."
"I wouldn't say we hate men," she said.
"Well, you sure fake it convincingly."
"Umm, don't you think women have a lot of reason to be bitter about the way men use them?"
"I guess. But I don't think all women get used."
"There're a few lucky ones. That's not the point. The point is that the time has come to alter consciousness. We have to change the way women look at themselves as well as the way men look at them."
"In what ways?"
"Oh, sexually and otherwise. Women simply will not stand to be exploited any longer."
"I guess I can see that, and I agree with it. But why be bitter about all men?" he asked, all sweetness and innocence.
"Oh, we're not. We're not," she said, blithely, frowning in a preoccupied manner as she stepped down into the basement and Lew closed the door behind her.
"So you're not against sex?" he asked.
"Of course not," she said, refusing to look directly at him, rubbing her fingertip in the dust atop a cabinet in which the Wedges stored who knew (who cared?) what, then inspecting her finger closely as she rubbed the dust from it.
Had the moment come? Lew was by habit a bit more subtle when he made a pass at someone, and his subtlety almost always paid handsome rewards, but Wedge had said make an awkward grab, and to do it at the first opportunity, and Lew knew that he would be miles from this basement and this woman were it not for Wedge's coercion. In silhouette, with the light behind her, her body had an undeniable shapeliness, her bosom a fullness and jut that was suddenly perplexing.
Lucy was aware that the nervous youth beside her seemed unduly agitated and his expression of interest in her sex life had not passed unnoticed. Thus, that he had intentions toward hardly qualified as a surprise. His method of expressing himself, however, startled her to the core and for a split second scared her witless.
Moving with the suddenness but without the finesse of a practitioner of karate, at once he kissed her, squeezed her right breast with one hand and clutched her left buttock with his other. The kiss was understandably off-center, his lips catching only a portion of hers and her nostril. Her breast met his finest expectations, its softness spongy to the squeeze, springing back at his fingers; her nipple had begun to extend itself in his palm before she managed to pry his hand away, using both of hers to do so. Only then, albeit out of breath, could she concentrate on freeing her buttock, her plump hind cheek, from his healthy grasp. He had delighted in the way she had clenched-unclenched the trembling globe in his hand-his fingertips extended into the crack between prodding her to new paroxysms of squirming. She now pushed at his hand, batted at his wrist just as his fingers shot around under to press into the juncture of her thighs.
She took a deep breath and yelped, "Don't!" and her voice rising, yelled, "Stop it! Get out of there!"
He unhanded her and backed away.
"You pig! Damn you!" she said, almost spitting.
"I ... I ... I ..." he stammered, looking down at the floor as if in shame and rubbing his hands together as if they'd been slapped. But he sensed that he did not have her attention and so for the moment he made no further attempt to speak. Instead, he held his pose while she straightened and flexed herself in that half-minute it took for her to ascertain she'd suffered no real harm, and by the time she looked up at him he'd begun to fear that he'd overdone it.
"Christ," she said. "You deserve a swift kick in the balls for that!"
"I ... I ... I ..." he began, stammering somewhat more convincingly now, "I couldn't help it. I . . . I . . . didn't know what to do. I . . . I . . ."
"Well, you picked a pretty stupid thing to do."
"I ... I didn't know," he said. "I've never had any experience before! I've never touched a woman before!" Here he buried his face in his hands as if on the verge of sobbing. "I've never known how you're supposed to tu-touch a woman!"
"Don't lie to me," she said, coldly. "There aren't any virgins at nineteen anymore."
After a moment, he lowered his hands and, biting his lower lip, said, weakly, "I'm not lying."
"Even so," she said, not conceding the point but wanting to make one of her own, "you should know better than to attack a woman, especially a feminist."
"I . . . I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean you any harm. Really! I just couldn't help it."
"Bah!"
"No," he said, taking a deep breath, "you see -only intelligent women appeal to me. It's always been that way, girls my own age have always been so frivolous, they've never appealed to me. You're one of the few intelligent women I've ever met, and . . . and, well, you're beautiful and here I was alone with you and I really couldn't help myself."
Lucy couldn't help smiling to herself in amusement and it occurred to her that he just might be telling the truth. He did seem like a bright, studious sort of kid. And she had never been grabbed quite so awkwardly in her life. "Well," she said, "next time you get the impulse to kiss a woman, an intelligent one, make sure she's in the mood. And if you can't tell, ask her if you can kiss her."
"Oh," he said, looking down at his feet. "Well, can I kiss you?"
"I didn't mean me," she said, "and I didn't mean now."
"Well," he said, smiling abashedly, "you're the one I want to kiss and I want to do it now."
"You have no right!" she said. "After the way you mauled me ..."
"Oh, I know," he said earnestly, "but I won't be able to sleep if you're still mad at me."
"You don't deserve to sleep," she said. "You won't blackmail me that way."
"Well, how can I blackmail you," he asked, mock-plaintively.
She giggled. "You can't."
He bent forward, his lips puckered in an exaggerated fashion as he bore cautiously down on her. At the last minute she tilted her head and kissed him, smack, and then turned her head away.
"Again," he said.
"No way."
"My pillow can kiss better than that."
"So kiss your pillow."
His hand on her cheek he held her against retreat and this time she did not break away. Her Lips were soft and warm, then became softer, parting when he probed with his tongue. She formed a cushion for his tongue with the underside of hers, and after a wildly wilting moment, she gave him an active swish with her tongue and broke off the kiss.
"That was a real kiss," he said.
"Yes, that was your kiss," she said, half-smiling through pursed lips.
"Can I touch your breast?" he asked.
"No," she said, definitely, yet coloring slightly, against her will.
He touched her anyway, tentatively, rubbing the end of it through her dress in a circular motion with the tips of his first three fingers. When her nipple stiffened he rolled it gently between his thumb and forefinger-obedient to touch, it stiffened further.
"Well," she said, "for a virgin you sure know what turns a lady on."
"I know what turns me on," he said. "And I hope it turns the lady on, too."
"We can't do anything about it here, however," she said, but no sooner had she finished her sentence than Lew had hooked his thumbs into the elastic of her neckline and stretched it down as far as it would stretch: she looked down at herself to see her tits quivering nakedly with each breath she took.
"My gosh!" he said, looking at them with wide eyes, her stunningly erect nipples looming pinkly at him. "Can I kiss them?"
She giggled, "Honestly, you don't have to ask me quite everything!"
He stooped, shoving her breasts up from beneath with his palms, and feverishly mouthed her nipples, affixing his lips slurpily to one, then to the other before rubbing those pointing bits of flesh on his eyelids, pressing them to his cheeks, his ears, squeezing and plucking, grinning as they sprang and bounced.
Lucy gasped, thinking, honestly! No one had carried on so exuberantly over her goddamn tits, not since she was eighteen, not even Samantha. There was something to the notion of trying an inexperienced youth.
"Better stop," she said, placing her hands on the sides of his head to quiet him, to hold him still. "We can't get too carried away down here."
"I want you," he said huskily, drawing her hand to his crotch, letting her get a good feel of his erect cock which strained at his fly.
She ran her fingers along it as if acquainting herself with its dimensions, then gave it a squeeze and let go. "This is no place . . ." she began.
"There's a mattress," he said, dragging her by the hand three or four steps farther into the basement.
She peered. The basement seemed to be subdivided-at least, there was a tacky frame wall running the length of it, with cracked sheets of plywood nailed haphazardly onto intermittent joists, and there was a door. The part they were in was L-shaped, and in the short leg of the "L" was a mattress. It was even covered with an old bedspread. He led her down the room to the mattress and, standing by it, she looked back over her shoulder and discerned that it was out of sight of the windows.
"We have to get back to the party," she said.
"I've waited this long to meet someone like you," he said, "and I can't wait a minute longer."
His hands were on her shoulders as he spoke, and now he enfolded her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as he nibbled her earlobe.
"Mmm," she said, "but we'll have to hurry."
So saying, she stepped away from him and reached behind herself to unzip her dress, pulling it forward over her arms and then stepping out of it. She was suddenly and surprisingly naked except for her panties which stretched tightly over her mound and across her hips. She promptly peeled them away and blithely stepped out of them.
The matter-of-fact bounce and flop of her tits as she hustled to strip and the flash of her snatch as she stepped, set Lew a-tremble with genuine excitement. He stood staring frankly at her, eyes afire, mouth slightly open and shaped into a smile.
Click. The shutter snapped. Wedge, having crept into the basement on stockinged feet from the kitchen, stood behind the flimsy partition half-squatting to bring the lens of his Polaroid as near as he dared to a fist-sized hole in the plywood, a convenient oblong hole near a joist, splintered around the edges, and focused through the viewfinder to record in color this snapshot: a full front view of the English Department's only lady professor standing naked, arms akimbo, provoking and obviously enjoying the gawking gaze of a student. When she didn't look up, he exhaled, glad that the party sounds overhead drowned out his sounds.
"Come on," she said, after just a moment's hesitation, stepping onto the mattress and sitting on one hip with her knees bent. "Get undressed."
"You're gorgeous," Lew said, finding his voice. "My god, I just have to look at you. Lie back so I can look at you!"
He glued his eyes to her silken rotundities as he kicked off his shoes and began to take off his pants. Her skin was deliciously, smoothly white. Her breasts swayed to the side when she lay back on her elbow, and then when she went flat on her back each rolled in its own direction on her ribcage. Her thighs gleamed palely; one knee was slightly raised. She stretched her arms straight out to the sides; her armpits formed hollows and her skin stretched tight on her rib-cage to give her torso a washboard effect except for those sponge-like mounds each with its tan-pink eye at the center.
Lew dropped his shirt and crawled onto the mattress. When he tapped her knee-his eyes focused on her muff and obviously wanting to take a look at her pussy-she obediently let her legs flop apart to reveal to him her puffy pink crinkle.
"Oh, how marvelous," he said. And then, both remembering his role and on genuine impulse, he said, "I've never seen one before-I have to look at it!"
In acquiescence her legs shifted farther apart and Lew bent and placed a thumb on each of her bedewed, fleshy, hairy cunt lips. He drew her tender lips apart with a slowly deliberate motion, until they would stretch no further. Smiling, he stared on the puffy lips of her wide-open cunt, forming an O like a mouth open in surprise, slick with cuntal seepage, her budding clitoris peeping, and he saw beyond the delicately wrinkled labia and into the orifice itself, the deep pink walls of her sex channel visible to the eye until shadows darkened the folds at the rear of her cringing cavern. When he exhaled she felt his hot breath graze her myriad sensitive nerve endings, and Lucy felt the pace of her heartbeat double.
"Oh, my god, it's gorgeous," he raved. "Can I kiss it?"
"I told you, you don't have to ask every . . ." she began, but failed to finish when he plunged his lustful tongue into the hot core of her with a suddenness that took the breath from her. The tongue slithered at will, reaming Lucy's pussy and bringing it fully to life, every nerve a-jangle as he probed for, delighted in tasting, the source of her womanly musk.
"What's the best way to kiss it?" he asked.
"You're doing fine," she said. "Be aware of my clitoris," and she reached down to brush her erect little bud with her fingertip. He immediately attacked it with his tongue, first touching it lightly with the tip and then capturing it between the back of his tongue and his upper lip, extending his snaking tongue into her honey-pot and swishing briskly.
"Oh . . . Oh, my god!" she moaned, suddenly no longer feeling so completely in control of the situation. She threw her head back and wailed in animal passion as she ground her butt into the mattress in an attempt to escape the hotly worming tongue.
Click. Wedge snapped this picture for his album: the lady professor's head thrown back, her face contorted and almost unrecognizable with her mouth open as if in a scream, with both hands holding Lew's head.
Sucking sounds filled the basement as Lew continued to grind his mouth deeper and deeper into her pussy. With a loud wail her loins reared off the mattress, and she bucked her hips until her breasts jiggled. Wedge unzipped his fly and freed his painfully stiff cock, blood racing in his veins as for the first time he became quite sure that he was going to get a piece of Lucy Slade's hot ass. He moved around the corner of the partition to view the action from another gap in the wall, an aperture mid-distance down the short leg of the L which widened as it got nearer the floor-two feet from the floor it was wide enough for a lens.
Lew reared up, eyes glazed with desire and his chin shiny with slick cuntal lubricant. His cock was painfully swollen, and Lucy gasped when the full reality of it thrusting up between his legs emblazoned itself in her vision, ugly and blue-veined, its head almost purple with fire.
"No!" she gasped when he flexed it, waved it at her. Panic seized her. How much bigger, how frightening it was in comparison to her Cordless Massager! She had to tame it, she had to tame this boy's ungodly lust and thereby tame him!
"Can I do it to you now?" he asked, sweetly, knowing full well that he was going to fuck the bejesus out of her no matter what she said.
"Yes!" she cried, obeying her instincts and the weak emptiness in her belly, an emptiness itching to be filled. "Yes! Fuck me! Yes! Fuck my cunt!"
A tremor of sympathetic anticipation shot through Wedge's cock as lucky Lew lowered himself on her. He rubbed the rigid head of his tool up and down in her bubbling slit to moisten himself.
"Let me!" she cried. "Let me put it in!"
Lucy grasped Lew's rigidity with her hand and drew her legs way back as she centered the organ on her seething cunt-mouth. She squirmed her hips, lifting them off the bed as she began to work her hot pussy up onto the thick gristle of his manhood.
Click. Wedge recorded full color evidence that the lady professor is hot under the whiskers. The camera recorded that her puffy labia were stretched into a tight ring around the head of the shaft which she struggled to impale herself on. My god! Wedge thought, there Lucy Slade was begging for it from a kid who didn't even want to fuck her, someone who had to be blackmailed and literally beaten on the head before he'd even look at her. Lucy's antagonism toward men was well known. It was a fact about her of which everyone was aware, yet, behind the facade, behind all that rhetoric, she was easy. She was a downright easy lay. She obviously dug getting herself fucked. Is there any way to make her aware of her own nature? to enlighten her about herself? Wedge wondered. Lew lunged.
He buried fully half his shaft in the woman's tightly slick vagina. "Urg!" she squealed, deep in her throat. Her stomach rippled in aftershock. She felt the ripping tension clear out to her fingertips. Her pussy throbbed hurtfully but she knew she had to have more. With a moan she threw her ankles onto Lew's shoulders and, using that for leverage, began swiveling her tight socket on the impaling spike. She continued to swivel as he dropped the weight of his hips, his broad cock slowly widening her little used (not properly used) channel, reaming it out until Lucy thought she'd been split in two. Her neck tendons stood forth as she held back a scream.
"Does it hurt?" Lew whispered. "Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?"
She was too weak and out of breath to answer him. The pupils of her eyes rolled back under her half-closed lids. Then, in answer to him, she took a deep breath and began to move her pussy on the shaft that penetrated her so insanely, reaching to the core of her and making every fiber tingle. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" she gibbered. "Fuck my cunt! Fuck it! Fuck it good!"
Click.
Lew knew that Lucy's sweetly pulsing twat had not quite acclimated itself to him, but she had bubbled enough of her lubricant that it didn't matter. He drew out, almost all the way out, then hammered into her, and, quickly, did it again. He began ravaging the hole between her legs, pounding into her as if to pound every fold flat. He lunged more and more rapidly until his hips became a blur-click-and hers bounced quiveringly in unison. The tight folds of her cunt lining clinging to him, distending from her twat on the outstroke-visible to the naked eye as well as to the camera, click-only to be rammed back into her with the in-stroke. Both of them grunted with each stroke and their bodies glistened with sweat.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lucy cried, biting her lower hp as she felt a muscle deep in her pussy begin to contract. At first, she didn't quite recognize it, because it hadn't contracted quite like that in years: it was as if her battered womb had begun to rebel, to fight Lew's merciless shaft. And then she felt every muscle, every fiber in her cunt go stiff in one big contraction and grasp Lew's tool. She tasted blood from her hp and her nipples felt so stiff and swollen she thought they might pop. One moment she writhed madly in a vain attempt to get away from that cruel cock, like a fish fighting the hook or gaff, and the next moment when the entire length of it began to twitch and quake within her she wanted every mothering inch of it, wanted the skewering monster to plunder her so thoroughly there would be nothing left. She dug all ten fingers into his ass as she felt herself begin to explode as, first her pussy muscles and then her entire nervous system went haywire.
"Ah . . . Ah . . . Aiiiieeeeee!" she screamed as she felt the first giant spurt of Lew's cum boil into her-click, this one captured her mouth wide open, eyes unseeing, recorded that her hips reared a foot and a half off the mattress-"I'm . . . I'm cummmming!" she cried. And it kept happening and Lew's churning cock kept spewing fire and her tongue dropped back into her throat and she made loud sucking noises as she gasped.
Wedge was aware, as the two in flagrante were not, that the noises from overhead suddenly ceased, that all of his guests upstairs had fallen into a hush as, for a moment, each asked himself, what was that? "A couple of alley cats," someone said, and the noises began again.
"Aggghhhh!" Lew groaned as spasms spread from his cock and balls up his spine and he began to thrash atop her, almost pulling her legs from their sockets as he writhed, his chest smacking her tits with sweat-wet echoes.
A moment later, by the time the party noises revved up again, the only sounds from the basement were those of contentment. Lew lay limply on top the exhausted woman, before he roused himself enough to roll off, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand.
"Christ, that was something," Lucy said, between gasps. "But maybe you shouldn't have waited nineteen years."
"Why?" he asked, all innocence. "Didn't you like it?"
"I loved it," she said.
"What was wrong?" he asked, innocently.
"I'm not going to be the same for a week," she said. "You just fucked the hell out of my pussy, that's all."
"Oh."
"I'm bruised blue," she said.
"I don't think I ever felt better in my whole life," he said.
"I should hope not," she said. "I'd say you have a natural talent."
"You liked it, then?"
"I loved it," she said.
"Let's do it again," he said.
Lucy's eyes widened in sudden panic as she looked at his slowly dwindling cock, fearful that he might mean this instant. "We have to get back to the party," she said.
"When can we do it again?" he said.
"Can you wait until tomorrow?"
"No."
"You'll have to," she giggled. "When tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow evening," she said. "About eight o'clock. 880 C Street."
"Okay," he said.
Lucy went up onto her knees and crawled over to her clothes.
Click. The last picture on Wedge's roll was a rear view of the lady professor as she reached for her panties, her ass in the air and her knees apart. As he looked at the picture later that night, he saw details that he had missed at the time. The normally wispy fluff of her furry little nest was plastered flat on either side of her still-agape gash with a mixture of their juices. And when he looked closely, he saw, coming out of the folds, a definite driblet of sperm running over the wrinkled puffy lips and into her mat.
Wedge left the pictures for the time being in the corner of the basement, put his shoes on, and went back upstairs to the party, having already judged it a grand success. He was blithely refreshing drinks when the two returned. Lew appeared properly nonchalant and, from the breezy sight of Miss Slade no one suspected that just a few minutes before she had been in the basement wailing like an alley cat. No one, that is, except Samantha. Samantha sat in a chair in the corner, holding The Rover Boys, and refused to have her drink refreshed. When she saw the utterly self-possessed Lucy amble into the room, she walked up to her, crossing the room in three or four strides, and asked in a low harsh whisper, "Where have you been?"
"Just out getting a breath of air, dear," she said. "What's that you're holding?"
CHAPTER FIVE
At ten minutes after eight the next night, Wedge parked his car on the eight-hundred block of C Street. He locked it, then, after patting the pocket of his corduroy jacket as if to check something, he jay-walked across the street, and sauntered up the walk at 880, the only house on that side of the street with a porch light burning. He patted his jacket pocket again before ringing the bell.
He had seen Lucy once during the day at school. She had popped into his office for five seconds to tell him that she had had a nice time at his party, and his face, a pleasant mask of amiability, had revealed nothing. When she opened the door-and she opened and closed it again very quickly, but nevertheless opened it enough and long enough to reveal that she wore nothing but a flimsy negligee-she said, "Oh! I wasn't expecting you!" and, leaving the door ajar, donned a bathrobe before unlatching the screen to enquire about his business.
He said, "Lew couldn't make it," and pushed past her into her living room.
"He sent you to tell me that?" she asked, frowning slightly.
"No," Wedge said pursing his lips and opening his eyes quite wide, "I came in his place."
"Oh," she said, letting that sink in. "You think so?" She raised her eyebrows, quizzically, or maybe mock-quizzically.
"Yep," he said.
"Well then," she said, "I'd say you're a deluded man, Horatio Wedge. A seriously deluded man."
"No, I don't think so," he said.
"Well, you're wrong. You have a silly streak, I've always known that," she said. "And I have the feeling that you're being quite silly at the moment. It might be better if you left before anything more is said."
"I don't think that's necessary."
"Why did you come here?"
"I came in Lew's place, I told you."
"Expecting what?" she asked.
"To fuck you, obviously."
"You ass! You goddamn pig! Get out of here!" she yelled, pointing at the door.
"Don't get excited," he said, calmly. "I didn't threaten to rape you or anything. I merely informed you that I was going to fuck you."
"You deluded pig! You pig's-ass! Get the hell out of here!"
"I'm going to fuck you with your complete acquiescence and cooperation," he said. "So calm down."
"What makes you think so?" she asked, her voice rising. "What on earth makes you think I'd ever let you fuck me."
"Love," he said, dryly.
She began to laugh, her laugh rising briefly to semi-hysteria before she said, "You're an amazingly silly man."
"Oh," he said. "I hoped it was going to be love. That was the way I wanted it to be, and I'm seriously disappointed that you don't seem to feel that's possible."
"You're insane," she said, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Deciding that his sarcasm had been lost on her, Wedge shrugged, then reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a white envelope which, when he opened the flap, proved to contain photographs. He handed it to her.
She could see they were photographs from the way he handed her the envelope, but her face was expressionless until she removed them. When she saw the first her eyes widened in horror and her cheeks turned a bright crimson. She frowned, bit her lips and looked quickly through them, her eyes needing but a single unblinking glance at each shot to refresh memory, and then she set them down. She did her best to retain outward composure, but she nevertheless trembled.
When he didn't speak, after a moment she did, "So I fuck," she said. "What do you think that gets you?"
"What do you think?"
"Are you two working as a team, or something?"
"We are this time."
"Well it won't work," she said. "Just because I happened to give some out last night doesn't mean you're getting any."
"Think again."
"Why?"
"Well," Wedge said, "most of us around here, we have some idea how we should behave. We -those of us who have earned tenure, anyway we all knew better than to get caught fucking students. Any intelligent person knows that the governor, and taxpayers, would not approve faculty fucking students. Therefore, it's better not to indulge until your job is secure."
"Are you threatening me? Do you think you could get away with firing me over this?"
"Well, I can't imagine the Women's Caucus going to bat for you, once they see these, once they're made public. And if they don't go to bat, the tenure committee is pretty much left to do as it pleases, wouldn't you say?"
"So let me guess what's on your mind," she said, sarcastically, "so the way your devilishly silly little mind is working is that you think I'm going to give you a lay in order to keep my job. Is that it?"
"Oh, that's not too terribly far off," he said.
"Well, Wedge. I hate to spoil your delusions.
I mean, you've obviously gone to great pains to try to get a lay off me. I mean you're diabolic. So it hurts me to tell you that it won't work. I simply don't care that much about my job here."
Wedge knew she was bluffing. He stood, picked up and pocketed the pictures, and said, "Okay, I just thought you should have fair warning what's in store for you."
"How considerate," she said.
"You should be aware, of course, that after losing your job here, after a scandal, you won't get a job anywhere. No one wants a goddamn slut on their faculty, especially one who mouths a lot of Women's Lib tripe."
"You're the male chauvinist pig incarnate," she said.
"Not at all," he said. "I sincerely like women."
"A woman could do better than be liked by you," she said.
"You'll change your tune when I get my cock in you," he said. "I'll have you begging for more."
"I'm not going to lay for you, Wedge," she said, "and that's all there is to it."
"You are," he said. "You want a career. That's even more obvious about you than my silly streak is about me."
"Maybe."
"And you have a very promising career ahead of you," he said.
"Which you'll ruin for me if I don't let you subject my body to your foul use," she said.
"Nothing foul about it," he said. "You're going to love every minute of it. You're going to beg for more."
He approached her, a steely glint in his eye, and began to unbutton her robe. She raised her hands as if to stop him or to strike him, her body rigidly tense, but she simply held them in front of her, trembling. When he got the last button he pushed her robe back over her shoulders. She allowed him to push her hands down and then to pull her robe down over her elbows.
"You're not going to fuck me," she said, but their eyes locked for one long knowing minute and they both knew that he was going to fuck her.
He pulled her to her feet and, brushing her long auburn hair out of the way, unzipped her negligee from behind, shoving it forward over her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She stood there in the midst of her fallen garments, shaking slightly as Wedge slowly circled her, scrutinizing her closely.
Her nipples erected against her will, perhaps because of a chill in the room. She observed Wedge's gaze fall on, drift away from, and return to her breasts, which quivered slightly from her body's tension.
"Tell me," she said, suddenly, "how's the big boy going to make me beg for more? Is he going to suck my titties until I go just frantic with desire? Is he going to do that? Is big boy going to slobber all over my titties and expect me to thrill to it? Huh?"
She lifted one of her breasts with her hand and wiggled it at him, flicking her nipple and saying, "Come on. What's holding big boy up? Doesn't he want to slobber all over the nice titty? Isn't that going to drive me wild? Or is he going to do it with his dark, romantic eyes? Maybe big boy thinks his hot eyes are enough to make me frantic with desire."
Wedge had probably never felt more like slugging a woman in his life. But he held back that impulse just as, now, he had to hold back the impulse to bury his face in her perfect breasts. Instead, he gripped her roughly by the elbow and propelled her into the bedroom, those now-untouchable breasts wobbling as she bounced along beside him. He gave her a shove and she flew forward onto the bed, hair flying.
He began to take off his clothes, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, dropping it and his jacket to the floor. Lucy's minor success in unnerving him had calmed her nerves; and if she'd been successful thus far, who knew . . . "Tell me," she cooed, "how's the big, hairy-chested man going to make me beg? What's he going to do to drive me frantic? Is he going to put his great big penis in me? Is that it? Is he going to stick it into my pussy? Is that it? Ohhh, I bet that's it!"
Watching him, she cooed and shrilled as she lay on her back on the bed. She spread her legs wide and began to finger her snatch, seeing from the shape of Wedge's short when he dropped his pants that he didn't have a hard-on and knowing her only chance was to keep it up. "Is he going to stick it right here? Is he going to stick his great big giant he-man cock right here? Does he think that the minute he gets it into me I'm going to go frantic with desire?"
Stepping out of his undershorts, Wedge said, "Turn over."
She complied, turning over at once. But she immediately spread her legs and reached behind herself with both hands, her wrists resting on the jut of her buttocks as she reached into her crotch with all ten fingers to pull her cuntlips apart, crooning in the same chillingly sarcastic voice, "Oh, oh! Big daddy wants to do it doggy-style! Put it right here! Just stuff it in and I'll go frantic with desire . . . Oh!"
Wedge eyed the gaping goodie, its puffy labia parted. She was all pink at the center of her ring of brown fluff. He felt his cock stirring, beginning to, and stifled a chortle as he realized that Lucy was defeating herself, going just a little too far and defeating herself. But this woman had to be taught a thing or two.
He spotted a jar of cold cream on her dresser and with it in hand he knelt behind her on the bed. He eyed pale, puffed lips of her pussy and realized that she was beginning to juice up in spite of herself-probably didn't even know it. Just above the hole she dipped her finger into was the light brown pucker of her anus, a tight ring in her buttock's furrow.
Lucy ceased fingering her pussy and glanced behind herself to see that Wedge's cock was only semi-erect. She kept up her sarcasm, even as he was withdrawing his now-white finger from the cold cream, a hating edge in her voice as she said, "Oh, poor big man! Can't get it up. Maybe he needs to slobber on my tits for a minute so he can get it up, so he can put his great big thing in my pussy and make me frantic with desire."
The woman didn't know when to shut up. She kept it right up as Wedge took very careful aim and rammed his finger home, breeching her anal sphincter by surprise and burying his finger to the hilt in her rectum in one swift movement, and he dug further without a moment's hesitation, twisting the impaling digit all around in her tight rectal passage.
"Oooyii!" she squealed at the ripping surprise of entry. She began to squirm in panic to try to get away, yelping, "Aii! Ah! Ah!" in helpless outrage as Wedge held her, pressing into the small of her back with his other hand to keep her from writhing away. His palm flat on her wriggling backside, her trembling cheeks, Wedge grappled to weaken her sphincter, thrust, twist, thrust, twist, thrust, twist.
"Oww! Owwww! It hurts! Noo!" she gasped, hardly able to get her breath through the exquisite pain lancing her anus.
"You haven't felt anything yet," Wedge said, calmly, a tiny malicious smile playing across his lips. "Just wait until I get my cock in there."
Lucy glanced around at Wedge's pecker, saying, "That little ..." when she saw that it thrust out grimly erect. She thought she would faint on the spot. It was purple and more rugged and, worst of all, appeared bigger than Lew's. She was aghast at the thought of being buggered. The prospect boggled her mind and she was half disbelieving. Wedge wouldn't, the brute! That massive cock thrust into her tight little asshole ... it was a manifest impossibility.
"Is this how you get nineteen-year-old boys to do your dirty work for you?" she cried through clenched teeth. "Buggering them?"
An implacable Wedge gave her no answer and a second later she shrieked when it felt as if his finger had doubled in size, a second finger having been urged into the passage alongside the first. There was a strange calm grin on Wedge's face as he felt the soft, buttery smoothness inside her rectum as he skewered her. Lucy, writhing under his ruthless penetration of her, thought her whole bottom was afire. She sobbed openly. The piercing pain tore at her interior like a fiery dart. Rage mingled with her pain, rage that after all the confidence Women's Lib had given her and after coming to feel so at home with that patina of determination, she was unable to prevent this cruel exploitation of her flesh. But then the pain became so acute that it drove everything else from her mind.
"Ow! Ohhhh! Ouch! NO! Oh, God stop! You filthy, bestial son of a bitch!"
For a moment she thought her words had gotten to him again. The fingers pulled out of her aching rectum with a loud popping sound. "Oh, thank god," she moaned, not wanting to offend him too much when she was so vulnerable to him yet indeed grateful to have him cease, then her voice suddenly soared almost to a scream as she felt Wedge lowering his weight on her back and his long, thick cock gliding up the damp crevice of her buttocks to her aching asshole.
"No!" she wailed, feverishly, willing to accept anything but this, "No! No! No! Fuck my cunt, please! Not my asshole! Stick it in my cunt and I'll throw you a beautiful fuck! Please!"
"No, you'll love this," he told her, confidently. "It'll only hurt for a few seconds. Then, madam, you're going to go off your nut."
Lucy's eyes bulged in terror as she flinched from the great prong digging at her shrinking, puckered anus. Wedge worked his way forward slightly on her perspiring back and pushed against her sphincter with which she fought to keep him out. But the finger-penetration had left the muscle tired and sore. "Ahhhhhh!" she screeched as she felt the throbbing, gristly head of his big prick lunge its way into her agonized rectum. She thought she was being utterly split in two.
Above her, her faculty colleague grunted noisily as he thrust with his hips to force his cock into her straining rectum in quarter-inch increments. The pressure on the head of his fleshy rod was driving Wedge half out of his mind with pleasure. He gained more and more ground with short quick lunges that buried him ever deeper between her palpitating hind cheeks.
Lucy pounded on the bed with the flat of her hands as the fiery dagger forced its way inside her alimentary canal. She seemed to have absolutely no voice left. It hurts so, it hurts so it hurts so, her brain screamed tiredly over and over again. Her entire body ached with the effort-the unavailing effort-of repelling the mercilessly ravaging prick from her distended anus.
And then there was a pause . . .
She raised her head inquiringly, hoping from the lack of movement that it was over. Horatio hadn't pulled out of her ass, she knew; she still felt stuffed beyond belief back there. While the pain hadn't gone it seemed to have moved into the background while a strange half-expectant, anticipatory sensation took over. No, she thought, I can't let this happen. It goes against all my principles.
Then Wedge began to move upon her, sliding his godless cock inches in and out of her loosened passage. Am I actually at this moment being fucked in the ass? she thought wonderingly. The impossible was happening. The big cock massaged hidden areas of virgin flesh in an almost snuggling manner. She felt the palpitations of her buttocks under the weight of his body with each thrust he made into her ass. A hot coal suddenly ignited in Lucy's awakened cunt. Was she losing her mind? Was her body actually beginning to respond to this foully bestial use of it?
Wedge fucked her expanding flesh steadily, and Lucy tentatively raised her hips only to be flattened on her belly by his next surge which seemed to penetrate her even more thoroughly. She thrust her tingling bottom upwards again to meet his next lunge. It was half-painful, half-stimulating. She held back a half-formed moan as her steady ass-fucking continued.
Wedge's body dripped sweat on her own lathered flesh as they both worked harder. Lucy couldn't understand herself. She was being used as she had thought only animals were used, and here she was beginning to enjoy it: it went harshly against all of her carefully formed and dearly held beliefs, against all of the tenets of the Women's Liberation movement. Her clitoris hadn't even been touched!
The prick in her anus was now moving in and out most freely. The friction of a cock in her rectum was so stimulating her against her will that she could feel the coal of her cunt glowing red hot and knew, incredibly, I am going to have an orgasm. Knowing that her senses, that by her actions she worked to insure her own utter humiliation, she reached under her up-thrusting hips with both hands to clasp Wedge's giant throbbing balls and to hold them tightly against her ignited cunt.
Wedge's movements quickened and Lucy sensed that the tight constriction afforded his cock by her asshole was about to take its toll. His weight pounded her as he plunged frenzied-ly in and out her rectum. Lucy heard herself squealing in mingled pain and pleasure, in humiliation and arousal as his frantic efforts pierced new depths. He jerked spasmodically upon her back as hot gism burst from his cock, rocketing into her pierced fanny.
"Agggghhhhh," he yelled in her ear as he fired his load into her in throbbing bursts.
The thick semen felt soothing to Lucy's lacerated flesh. For an instant she felt she was standing on tiptoe, and then she was flinging her hips upward onto the prick still impaling her rear while she ground her pelvis lasciviously against the bed. Lightning bolts coursed through her flesh as she writhed furiously.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried involuntarily as convulsions wrenched her. Humping her middle up and down, with one long wail. "Ahhiiiieeeee!" She came with a blinding force that threatened to leave her senseless. She had never known such a climax.
She collapsed on the bed in utter exhaustion, her stomach nauseous with knowledge that she had abetted her own humiliation. With the cessation of tactile sensibility in connection with her immense arousal, the pain in her rectum returned. Not nearly as acute as before, but it was definitely sore. Wedge's prick still not fully subdued, remained inside her. She whimpered when he started to withdraw it despite the sperm-lubricating deluge of her interior.
With a sudden, harsh yank Wedge pulled his deflating penis from her ass. It came out with a whooshing sound. Her urge was to cry out, but she held it back. She buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to look at Wedge. She didn't want to acknowledge that he was still in her room with her. She wanted to forget that he had been there. She wanted to blank this entirely out of her mind.
But for Wedge this was a genuine moment of triumph. Before him on the bed lay a shattered symbol. This proud and haughty woman who made no secret of her disdain for men had been humbled. When he rolled her over she refused to look him in the eye. Tears rolled from the corners of closed eyelids. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow, her mouth set in a tight line as if she bit the insides of her lips to keep herself from breaking into tears.
He gazed at her body, her superb body from which he had wrested a response she didn't know she was capable of. With his fingertips he touched lightly the hollow of her armpit and she did not stir. His hand traced the swelling of her breast, cupping its fullness and squeezing. Rolled between thumb and forefinger, her nipples obediently stiffened. He ran his hand down across her stomach, up again: her belly quaked. He squeezed her hips, her thighs. He plucked at the slick puffy lips of her pussy, insinuated a finger into her snatch, a second. He penetrated her dank wetness and she parted her legs, but her face remained immobile. She refused to acknowledge this.
But there was a disparity between the workings of her mind and those of her body, and her body did acknowledge ... He twisted his fingers around marveling at her cunt's clasping folds. Reaching to the very quick of her he rubbed her cervix; his hand was inundated with her pussy's self-lubrications. She moaned quietly and began, half-consciously, to rock her hips up and down, grinding herself on the impaling ringers. Her now-parted lips glistened and as he watched she licked them again. Her tears had dried.
Abruptly, he pulled his fingers out, disengaging his hand from her body and wiping it on her bedspread, then spoke. He wanted to fuck her again; he would have liked to cavort the night long, but next time he fucked her he wanted her to come to him on his terms. "You know, Lucy, for all your liberated rhetoric you're actually quite easy."
She removed her arm from her face and opened her eyes, squinting at him. "You think that's all the movement is, Wedge? Rhetoric?"
"Basically."
"You're a silly, deluded man, Wedge."
"Oh no. I know you believe it," he said. "You believe it quite sincerely. That's what's sad."
"Sad? How can you call it sad?"
"Because I intend to open your eyes. And to have one's eyes opened when one would rather cling to cherished beliefs is always painful, that's what's sad," he said, speaking with care.
"Ho, ho, ho," she said, sarcastically, "tell me. How in hell do you propose to open my eyes?"
"First whether you've admitted it to yourself or not you just had one hell of a climax."
"So?" she said her voice shaking slightly. "So I had a climax? What does that prove?"
"Second, I come to school early on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I usually arrive at about eight-thirty. However, for the next two and a half weeks I will come in an hour earlier on those days. Now, this is Wednesday, and that means that the day after tomorrow is Friday."
"I know when Friday is," she said, not knowing exactly what he was leading up to, but knowing that whatever it was she wasn't going to go along with it. "So what?"
"That means," he continued, "that at seven-thirty the day after tomorrow and then at seven-thirty every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until the tenure meeting, you are going to come to my office and suck my cock."
"What!?" she shrieked. "You're out of your mind! You're truly demented!"
"Third," he said, "this is . . ."
"Third?" she said, breaking into helpless laughter despite herself. This buggered belief. He had just buggered her body and now he was buggering her mind!
"This is the sign" he continued imperturbable. He held his fist up in front of his face, a peculiar fist with his thumb sticking out between the first and second fingers, and he proceeded to lick the ball of his thumb. She looked on, frowning quizzically. "Whenever anyone gives you the sign, you will perform with them. Got that?"
"You're absurd," she said.
Without another word Wedge stood and began to pull on his pants. She watched in stunned silence as he dressed himself, unable to take him seriously. But when he sat in the chair to put on his shoes, the same complacently pleased look on his face, she began to revile him, telling him what an ass, what an idiot, what an absurd little fellow he was. "What the hell makes you think I'll go along with any of this crap?"
"You want to have a career," he said, calmly. "And you know secretly that you need to have your eyes opened."
"But you don't have any hold over me. You just fucked-uh, buggered-me and now I get the pictures."
"No, you get one picture. There are seven more. You can have all seven the morning of your tenure meeting."
"You charlatan! You lied to me!"
"No. You were too busy mocking my natural urge to kiss your breasts to listen to the bargain. That's not my fault."
"You're taking advantage of me!" she yelled, tears forming again in her eyes. "You're a gross man and you're taking gross advantage of me!"
Wedge walked to the door, then paused, turning, to say, "Remember, seven-thirty Friday morning. You most likely won't want to come, but remember that it's not much, really and that your job hangs in the balance. Also, remember the sign. You'll balk at cooperating with whomever gives it to you-but you'd better have sober second-thoughts."
With that warning, given with a stern frown, Wedge left not looking back at the woman who yelled hysterically from the bed.
"I won't do it! You think I care that much about my job, well you got another think coming, Horatio Wedge! I won't do it! Do you hear? I won't do it. This is it. You don't have any hold over me! You think I care!"
She yelled until the front door slammed, until she heard a car start on down the street, and then broke totally into tears. She sobbed brokenly for fifteen or twenty minutes, hitting her pillow, burying her head in her arms. Only when she had sobbed herself dry and laid dazedly on the bed until she caught her breath did she extend her hand behind herself to tenderly explore her ravaged asshole. It felt wet and slippery to her examining finger and very, very tender.
Hell, she thought, I don't need this damned job. That asinine freak thinks he can blackmail me like this . . . hell, I don't need this damned job!
CHAPTER SIX
The next afternoon Lew paused before Professor Lucretia Slade's office door in Hurlburd Hall. He was still somewhat aglow, understandably flushed with his surprise success in seducing her. His natural inclination had been to see her again right away and it was with more than a little reluctance that he had allowed Wedge to go in his stead.
"Well, what will you tell her?" Lew had asked. "I'll tell her you couldn't make it," Wedge had said, shrugging, his face inscrutable. "What'll you do."
"Play it by ear."
While Lew knew full well which of life's melodies Wedge's ear was attuned to, he privately did not think, that the man had a chance. The idea of his calling on her out of the blue like that and expecting to lay her for Chris'sake was ludicrous. No, the lady had obviously enjoyed their lusty mutually unexpected screw in the basement and would just as obviously want more.
Lew had looked around for Wedge at different times during the day, hoping to hear at least one version of what had happened but his advisor had been nowhere to be found. One could only assume that the man had failed so miserably that he now hid his carcass in shame. And knowing this, Lew did not have to hear a version from him of what had happened. At times in life one must act on presumptions, intuitions . . . He paused outside Lucy's office door, listening for sounds from within. He had on the tip of his tongue several offhand, knowing remarks about Wedge's being an unfortunate nuisance, any one of which might serve both to indirectly ask forgiveness for having subjected her to the man's designs and to ingratiate himself. He knocked on the door. "Come in."
He regarded her from just inside the door. Her hair, so attractively free-flowing when he'd last seen her was now done up in a bun. She looked severe and somewhat tired, careworn. She had none of her grand self-possession which had so unnerved him.
"Close the door," she said, frowning quizzically.
He did, and as he walked over to the desk, said, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night."
She looked at him from narrowed eyes as he approached and then her lips played into a thin smile-a smile that could have meant anything -and she said, "Not nearly so sorry as you ought to be."
She arose and closed a desk drawer.
"I wish I could have avoided sending Wedge," he said. "But he offered and there didn't seem to be any way I could really ..."
But she approached him from around the corner of the desk, smiling a bit more surely now, and he halted mid-sentence. From the way she approached he divined that she expected an embrace. Perhaps his explanation was unnecessary, superfluous. He held out his arms.
Her nostrils suddenly flared and that took him by surprise. He did not see her foot leave the ground and became aware that it had left the ground only on impact: the square toe of her high-heeled shoe caught him squarely in the testicles.
The sharp, sudden stabbing pain in the groin led as immediately to nausea, to a constriction in the throat, to a blurring of the vision. He flailed an arm out as he doubled up-but it was impossible to tell if he intended to strike her or merely to hang onto her, because she stepped back out of reach. He couldn't ask "why?" He couldn't see beyond the blur.
She looked on coldly, expressionlessly even, as he flailed, doubled up, and fell to the floor. She gathered her books, turned off the light, and left him there on the floor, retching.
As she left the building she smiled again, a briefly flashed intensely private smile of satisfaction.
That night Wedge sat on a barstool in a dimly lit bar several miles from campus. He gave each new patron a careful once-over and then returned to his drink. When three sailors, already just a bit unsteady on their feet, stumbled in and took seats at a booth in a corner, Wedge waited until they'd been served and then finished off his own drink. He passed their table on the way to the John and sized them up with a bit more care. His glance first settled on the one who was thick-set and bald, a man who had obviously lifted weights at some time in his life; his eye passed quickly over the one in the middle, who was rather ordinary if ungainly, and settled on the smallest of the three, settled to be exact on his paunch, which was large for so young a man. The good professor dawdled in the John, wondering what the hell he was going to say-after all, this was a new line of work for him, and was hopefully one he'd never engage in again.
He reasoned that they were sailors, that they had come ashore knowing what they wanted and had come to this section of town expecting to find it and he decided that the best approach was to be direct.
"You boys interested in seeing a little action tonight?" he asked, as soon as all three focused their eyes on him once he'd positioned himself squarely in front of their table so that they had little choice but to look at him.
"What kind of action you got in mind?" asked the big one whose name turned out to be Al.
Knowing that he didn't look the part he was playing this evening, that their immediate suspicion might be that he was a homosexual, Wedge immediately pulled some pictures out of his pocket and plopped them on the table in front of the three. He then sat down; big Al scooted over for him as he reached for the Polaroid photos. "That's the broad," he said. "All you have to do is decide if you can get it up for her."
"I don't know," Al said, scrutinizing the first of the stack of pictures with a wary eye and passing it to the lanky lad next to him, who almost tipped his glass over as he reached. "What do you think, Jim? Could you get it on for this slut?"
"Nice tits," Jim said, yawning.
Squinting, Al looked through the pictures, passing each one on to his pals. He pursed his lips as he stared at the last one-a rearview of Lucy's freshly-fucked snatch-and said, "What do you think, Piggy?"
"She's fucking a hippie!" Piggy exclaimed, referring, evidently, to Lew's long hair.
"She's throwing him a mean one, though," Jim said, his interest in women becoming somewhat less casual as he progressed through the series of snapshots.
"Has she got a tight twat?" Piggy asked. "I don't want no goddamn bag of air."
"She gives your pecker one of those squeezes of hers," Wedge said, "and you'll see stars."
"Last one I fucked was a black bitch," Piggy said. "It was like fucking thin air. Took me all day to get it off."
"When was that, Piggy?" Al asked, winking.
"That little thing you got," Jim said. "You may never find a woman tight enough."
"Now, that ain't so," Piggy huffed. "I had plenty."
"What's she go for?" Al asked.
This caught Wedge off guard. He didn't really know what the asking price was; everything he knew about whores he got from the newspaper. "Uh, for boys in uniform," he said, "she'll go for twenty." He quickly added, "Twenty each," thinking that this was a little low for Lucy, but on the other hand not wanting to price her out of range.
"There's three of us," Al said.
"All night for twenty?" Jim asked.
"No one shot" Wedge said. "If you all three want a go at her we could made it forty-five."
"Hell, I'm game-at these bargain basement prices," Al said. "You're not going to pass some other bitch off on us, are ya?"
"No."
"Hey, when was these pictures taken, anyway?" Piggy asked. "Five years ago."
Lucy couldn't believe her ears when Wedge spoke to her over the phone. Her mind went numb with outrage-she could have sworn capillaries were popping inside her brain-but she said nothing, did not argue, which was a blessing Wedge did not expect. She suppressed her outrage because Samantha was with her and she didn't want to give anything away. She asked Sam to leave, kindly but firmly, saying that she had to be alone in order to think. Sam dressed and left in a huff, and as her parting shot said, "Who was that on the phone anyway? Some big he-man lover?"
Lucy sat down to think. She still hadn't managed to fully collect her wits after Wedge's abuse of her the night before, and now she had to do so at once. Did she really want this job? She wanted it very much, of course, and somehow Wedge had divined that but did she want it enough to endure two weeks of abuse at that demented man's hands? Did she want it enough to abandon all of her principles?
No, she didn't. Not at the cost of her self-respect. The price simply wasn't worth it. The answer had to be no. She sat down at once to write out her resignation. She made it short and sweet: "Due to personal reasons I resign my job as of the end of the present school year."
Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away. She had to be firm.
Having taken a very circuitous route to Lucy's house, Wedge collected, almost as an afterthought, the money from the men. He didn't want them to be able to find Lucy's house again, and had turned enough corners to ensure they hadn't noticed what street they were on.
"Okay, now," he said. "The thing about this bitch is sometimes she likes it a little rough. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Oh, I suppose," Al said, grinning a bit. "What's the goddamn clue whether we're supposed to get rough or not?" He sneered just a little, not knowing what Wedge's game was.
"You'll know. She'll pretend that she doesn't know why you came, or she'll claim she doesn't want to give you a lay. You know the routine."
"Yeah," Al said.
"Sock her one, if you have to."
"Hey!" Piggy said frowning "how we know this isn't just some housewife or something?"
"You saw the pictures, didn't you?" Wedge asked. "A housewife pose like that?"
"Not my old lady," Jim said.
"You bought an hour with her. Don't take any shit off her."
"I don't take any shit off anyone," Al said.
The knock on her front door came shortly before midnight and Lucy had been sitting in total stillness for twenty minutes, waiting. Her decision made her goals forsaken, she was even at peace with herself, and thus when she did not immediately respond to the knock it was more from lethargy than fright. It sounded again, this time an insistent banging which shook the frame of the house.
She looked through the window. There were three of them, sailors. She had expected neither three men nor that they would be sailors. The first sudden tremor of fright shot through her, but she had out-cooled more than one sailor in her life. She knew better than to open the door just a crack, which would have revealed fright, so she opened it halfway and stood behind the locked screen. She very nearly snarled as she asked, "What do you want?"
"One guess," Al said. "Open up."
"No," Lucy said. "If you don't go away at once, I am going to call the police."
"My friggin ass, you will!" Al barked.
Lucy ducked. She had to duck to avoid being hit in the face as the burly man straight-armed the screen, punching through it with his open palm. Lucy tried slamming the door, but was a second too late. His hand, his whole arm was already inside and he simply gave the door a shove, throwing her slightly off-balance.
Lucy took off at a run, aiming for the back door, but Al unlocked the screen on his back-swing and, more agile than he looked, caught her by her flowing hair before she left the living room. Yanked backwards, she swirled, clawing at his eyes with her nails. But he batted her hand away and slapped her, twice, to-and-fro, across the face.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed a loud shrill scream, but she emitted sound no more than a few split seconds before a handkerchief was stuffed into her mouth. Al waved his hand and an aghast Piggy, eyes wide with confusion, handed him another, which he wrapped around and tied behind her head to hold the gag in place.
"Jesus, I didn't quite expect this," Piggy said.
"Aw, she digs it," Al said. "This is how some women get their kicks."
Al held her hands in front of her-she tried to scratch, but he gripped her wrists firmly and asked the others to help undress her. Jim unzipped her dress and unhooked her bra, then shoved both forward over the squirming woman's shoulders which bared her to the waist, her tits wobbling nakedly, her nipples elongating of their own accord.
Al let go of her wrists but grabbed her again so quickly that she didn't have a chance to move, gripping her upper arms and digging his thumbs harshly into the pressure points beneath her armpits, numbing her nerves for the moment and allowing Jim to pull her dress and then her panties down to the floor. Before they had a chance to look her over Al lunged into her stomach with his shoulder, temporarily knocking the wind from her as he picked her up and carried her on his shoulder into her bedroom. He dipped his shoulder and lunged again, tossing her frail-by-comparison body onto the bed. Her ass hit the middle and her torso flopped back so that she lay flat-out.
Dazed and out of breath, Lucy was scared enough to pee on the spot. But she was not at all confused! She knew that whatever she did to resist, she would get back double-these men might kill her! When they talked about her, the tones in their voices made her stomach churn.
"Look at them tits," Al said. "Can't wait to sink my teeth into out of them beauts!"
"Damned fuckable," Jim said.
"Look at her snatch," Piggy said, eyeing it as she lay with her legs parted.
All three had begun ripping at their clothes. Lucy managed to focus her eyes to see that their pricks were already hardened. All were long solid weapons, but Al's stood out as the most massive of the three.
In spite of her fear and in spite of knowing better, all her senses cried, "Run!" She bolted. She got to the edge of the bed and had one foot on the floor even before big Al backhanded her to send her, mouth numb and mind half-insensible, back to the middle of the bed.
Jim was the first out of his clothes. He jumped onto the bed beside her and clutched her tit. "Oh, shit!" he cried, squeezing her numb with his awkward fingers while he pinched her nipple with his other hand. The others quickly joined him, Al, true to threat, sinking his teeth into one of her delicate spheres and then, holding his lips well back, sucking as much of her pliant breast as possible into his mouth, with his molars roughing up half her breast as he watched her eyes begin to water and her voice box work in vain, her groans muffled in her gag.
Jim's finger had found her cunt and begun worrying her clitoris when Piggy jumped onto the bed, heaved his bulk between her thighs so that she couldn't close them, and peered closely at her snatch. Pinching her lips apart he was able to inspect her pink interior folds, which had not begun to juice. Abruptly, he thrust a fat finger into her uncooperative vagina, gouging cruelly.
"She's got a nice tight one," he said. "Jesus, I never felt such a tight twat!"
Lucy squirmed, grinding her ass into the bed and then pumping her thighs as she tried to free herself from the finger hooking into her but if she could have seen his eyes she would have known that her gyrations only served to enflame Piggy. He stuck a second fat finger in alongside the first, twisting and thrusting at the folds of her cunt.
"I guess Piggy wants cunt," Al said to Jim, their heads together as they chewed at her chest. "How do you want yours?"
"Cunt for me," Jim said.
"I think I'm gonna take her asshole," Al said. "She's not a bad bitch-she might have a nice one."
Lucy groaned at the thought, but Al was obviously taking his first, and with six hands and strong arms they had little trouble turning the frantically squirming woman over onto her stomach. The other two held her still as Al spread her fleshy buttocks apart and began to taunt her tightly puckered anus.
"Have either of you ever seen an asshole like that?" he asked his cohorts, grinning broadly. "Not a fucking hair on it . . . just made for old Al."
"Are you really gonna fuck her inna ass!" Piggy asked, excitedly. "Christ almighty!"
In choking dread, Lucy felt his hands ply her soft, quivering cheeks, drawing them farther apart. Her whole rectal passage still sore from Wedge's abuse of it the night before, her heart did flip-flops . . . would she ever endure? She tried to hold her hind cheeks together by tensing the smooth, ivory spheres, but it was useless. The very lust which had filled their eyes made her feel all the more vulnerable and naked, and as Al pried at her ass as if to split her at the seam she could feel cool air at her hotly perspiring crack. Tears had begun to wet her cheeks and she heard Piggy gasp as a finger probed at her tiny rubbery opening, a sickeningly sharp pain followed as Al wormed his finger in to the first knuckle. Automatically, her muscles fought and she gripped his finger tightly with her nether hole.
Al laughed. "Look at that little asshole work, will ya?"
"Hurry up!" Jim said. "I'm about ta bust my nuts just waitin'."
"Patience, Jimmo," Al said, tauntingly, "we're gonna fuck this bitch 'til she's got it coming out her ears."
Abruptly, Lucy was unable to resist, not having gotten her strength back into her anus from Wedge's brutal use of it, and she felt her sphincter suddenly give way.
"Hah!" Al chortled as his thick finger buried itself to the hilt in her soft, rubbery channel, causing her to grunt in pain from deep in her chest, while he routed and seesawed in and out her helplessly exposed, unresisting anus. He rolled onto her and slowly drew the huge head of his cock up through her opened cunt-lips. She jerked at the soft contact, her muscles tensing as he laid the entire length of his shaft into the crevice of her ass-which he held widely spread with his thumbs-its tip poised at her snug throbbing little bunghole. She froze in terror as he levered himself to his elbows and moved his hips forward, guiding the head of his cock directly to the flexing, cringing little hole.
She made a feeble attempt to resist, flexing her sore sphincter several times in vain as she thought, No! he'll never . . . not without cold cream or . . . and her tight-shut eyes opened wide as Al's shaft popped suddenly through her weak anus with splitting pain. Her tiny orifice stretched obscenely to slip like a glove over the probing tip of his huge cock. The pain was like fire . . . cold cream, she thought, deep in her blazing mind.
Al grinned triumphantly at the others just before he thrust his hips heavily downward, burying most of the fleshy rod in the soft velvet of her hapless rectum. Her scream choked in her gagged throat as her buttocks jerked and twisted beneath the depraved assault, but her every move only served to impale her more deeply, because with each buck and lurch of her tortured body, Al's stiffness skewered all the more her fevered rectum.
"Turn her over," Jim said.
Lie still! I must lie still! Lucy told herself, knowing that her own writhing only increased her torment. But so raw had Wedge left the skin within her back passage that her gyrations were involuntary and impossible to stop.
Al brought her to her knees preparatory to turning her over and, with her knees widespread, he was able to sink his shaft even wore deeply into her agonized hole. His hands held her hips with numbing pressure as he pummeled into her with longer, smoother strokes, while she writhed and jerked in one constant spasm, her gag wet with tears, only dimly aware of his bloated testicles slapping with each stroke the spread folds of her pussy.
"Goddamn it, Al, turn her over!" Jim said, all the more turned on by the sight of the thin pink ridges of flesh pulled from her rectum with each outstroke of his friend's massive prick.
Al squeezed her hips tightly and rolled to the side, pulling her backwards on top of himself. He lay flat out beneath her, holding her back tight against his stomach and chest. His legs were spread and hers were spread outside his, spread obscenely with his massive cock buried to the hilt in her bowels: she was helplessly impaled as though on a stake.
Jim crawled on top of her and grasped his stiffly twitching cock and centered it on the stretched channel of her open twat. He lunged, but barely entered her: she was dry. Not at a loss, he drew back on his elbow, collected a huge gob of spit on his fingers and rubbed it on the end of his shaft. Lucy grunted through her nose as his prick slithered halfway into her. He gave her several rapid and smooth half-strokes and then rammed smoothly into her until his balls smacked tightly against the spread asscheeks and the other cock-and she realized, incredulous through her tears, that her pussy had begun to lubricate itself at the first touch of a stiff prick! Where she had until that moment been merely a victim, now she felt the shame of her own debasement, and whimpered anew at the agony of this knowledge as she was caught between these two evil lust-crazed sailors whose massive pricks doubly impaled her tender, unwilling body. Only the slightest wall of tissue separated the prick in her cunt from that in her ass.
Piggy watched in a half-dazed state, stroking his own aching cock as Jim began fucking her hot, moist cunt with quiet fury, while Al's powerful loins thrust up and down with enough force to lift the other two right off the bed with each stroke-crazy, mean strokes they were, plundering her ass. The two men fell into a rhythmic cadence, buffeting her between them, the dually-fucked bitch lying limply between them like a goddamn rubber doll, moaning continuously through her nose as if she had half begun to enjoy this outrage at her privates.
His face but a few inches from the thick ramming pricks, his lust-glazed eyes stared excitedly at the long hammering cocks both wet now with Lucy's cuntal secretions, her gushing lubricant having dripped down onto Al's cock. He watched the ragged vermilion edges of her twat being pulled out with Jim's prick on his backstroke and disappearing back inside as he plunged into her depths; and a similar sight took his eye with Al's cock sucking down out of her, tugging the ridges of her clasping rectum with it before sloshing fluidly up until his goddamn nuts were wedged into the cleft of her buttocks. Christ, Piggy thought that if he didn't get in on the act, he was going to shoot-off on the spot!
"I want her to suck me off!" he cried.
"Sure," Al said. "If she bites we'll strangle her." And he began to untie her gag. Piggy piled two pillows by their heads to raise him up and then pulled the second handkerchief out of her mouth.
Lucy flexed her tongue to make sure it was all right and then shut her eyes again. Shamed and aching, her head was flattened between their chests while Al clawed savagely at her tits from beneath. She felt only a great heat splitting her loins as two great holes were being pile-driven between her legs. She worked her mouth voicelessly.
Suddenly, she felt a hand entwining in her hair, then brutally yanking her head to one side. There were fingers at her lips and then a stiff velvety substance and the smell of a man who hadn't bathed in a few days; when she opened her eyes she saw Piggy's fat dick staring back with its one purplish eye. She held her mouth clamped tight, but when he pinched her nose with some harshness she saw the folly of resisting at all at this point and she allowed him to open her mouth with his fingers and slide the length of his cock into her acquiescent cavern. She was aware of it sliding up her tongue and probing into the back of her throat, filling her mouth with its paradoxical hard velvet. Piggy wound his hand in her hair to hold her head firm and began to thrust into her face, almost gagging her as he rammed halfway down her hapless throat, nearly the entire length of his cock disappearing between her round, ovaled lips. She struggled for breath, gasping for air wherever she could get it.
Oh, god! she thought, cruelly buffeted amongst the trio like a slave, like a damn receptacle. At this moment she was being debased, she knew, beyond the wildest nightmares of either herself or any of her friends-and as her ravagement continued, she knew she would become an extremist, more extreme than Samantha! If Samantha could see her now, why, she'd shit in her pants! She had the answer; she knew what she'd unswervingly espouse in the future: castrate all men! Women, begin by gelding your own sons!
But then the imagined sight of herself in this position formed piecemeal in her mind, the mental picture of prototypic obscenity, the picture of a woman being bucked in each bodily entrance by three male chauvinist pigs, began to work on her subconscious, perhaps beginning to incite her own salaciousness, and maybe sparking a masochistic hunger ... if there was no way to escape debasement, then debasement had to be total.
A low throaty moan escaped her lips, emitting as a hum from around the cock which stretched her jaws. Without knowing it, without admitting it to herself, she began to rock her hips, tensing, then relaxing her buttocks, her body becoming undulant as she squeezed with her pussy and her rectum the thick gristle boring into her.
Her mind was alert enough for her to know that she was actually sucking on the cock in her mouth, her cheeks filling and hollowing with each thrust as she explored its ridges with her tongue, lapped at its length and ribbed its bulging knob with the back of her tongue. She sucked voraciously enough to bring a moan to Piggy's lips.
"Jesus!" he cried. "Her mouth is better than most cunts!"
Lucy felt her hips moving down hard against Al's raging cock and then up fast-like to absorb with her aching twat all of the force of Jim's harsh thrust, her uncontrollable cunt winding up like a clock as a sudden wave of masochistic sensation saturated her being. Nothing registered on her mind but the powerful, all-powerful cocks fucking unleashed into her defenselessness and she rocked mindlessly to their rhythmic attack, and she sucked away at Piggy with mounting fury.
Suddenly, she wanted to feel semen shoot into her throat, to swallow it . . . she had it in her power, in the power of her mouth, to make it happen. She could make all these men cum, to fill her with their gism. She blotted from mind her basic hatred of these men and all like them: she wanted their gism!
"Shit!" Piggy exclaimed as his nuts contracted sharply-he wanted to shoot it into her cunt, tight like it was, and saying, "Jee-sus!" he tried to pull his cock out of her mouth, but with her forehead sinking into his corpulent paunch, her nose buried in his pubic mat, she gripped his prick as though to pull it out by the root. He continued to swear in helplessness as it burst then, gushing thick streams of pungent, sticky liquid into her throat, her cheeks bloating and contracting as she swallowed continuously to keep from choking on the flood of it. She swallowed in hard, hungry gulps, her lips fastened in a tight ring around his ejaculating manhood. Small droplets seeped from the corners of her mouth as Piggy fell away from her and his shrinking organ slid from her yet-avid mouth.
"Ohhhhh . . . ooooooh!" she moaned, her whole lower body flopping like a giant frayed nerve, like a decapitated chicken, responding with pure animal reflex to each lunge at her twat and ass.
Their rock hard cocks battered her without mercy, yet she responded with fury to each stroke . . . until all three moaned unintelligibly.
The pure animal in her had taken over: she had gone numb in the head, she knew not what she did as she cried, "Aaaahhh! Oh! Yes! Yes! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck harder . . . ahhh!" But the animal in her knew somehow that having both men explode into her at once would shatter her so completely that she wouldn't have to remember this, and that non-thought set her into a tizzy, a whirlpool of raw lust.
Sparks flew in the flint of her spinal column, and her whole world pulsed with such sharpness that she had trouble breathing. "Now! Now! Now! Shoot your wads! Cum! Fuck! Hur-rrryyyy . . . cummm in meee!" And, a moment later, "Aiiiieeeee!! I'm cummming . . . My cunt! My asshole! Fuck!"
"Agghhh, awrrr," Al groaned and just then Lucy felt his hot, boiling load of cum course up into her rectum, both soothing and enflaming her as her own orgasm rattled her teeth, and she could feel every contraction of his massively jerking prick as it spewed forth its hotly white load, sending it deep into her twitching bowels . . .
. . . and at the same time Jim groaned, "Uh, uh, uh," as she drew her thighs back as high as she could, all breath and all thought of ever regaining her senses gone from her as his throbbing cock shot jets of gism into the depths of her convulsing belly, her own complete liquification blending with his load as she convulsed in a seizure of epileptic ecstasy.
It was done. She became flutteringly aware of the loads of cum in her stomach, her belly, and her bowels, the warmth from it suffusing her as she lay crushed between them. After a sweaty moment of utter quiet, Jim climbed off her, his deflated pecker slipping feebly from her still tingling twat; and Al, not being exactly gentle, but not being brusque either, lifted her off himself, his withered cock slipping from her anus with a wet whoosh. Lucy lay alone on the bed, her legs widely spread, the cooling air balm on her overworked privates.
"Bitch don't throw a bad fuck," Al said.
"She's a pretty fine cunt," Jim concurred.
"Sucks like a suckerfish," Piggy piped. "Christ, I couldn't hold it."
"Aw, you couldn't hold it for anything," Al kidded.
Lucy hadn't heard them. They dressed and left without saying anything to her, although Piggy came over and fingered her snatch for a moment before leaving. She reacted only slightly as he gouged his hand into her rankly hot goodie-so puffed and limply slippery and banged insensate since he'd last felt it-and even then she did not flinch: a tendon in her thigh twitched and she was not even aware of that.
She couldn't move, when they'd gone and the front door had shut with a bang after them, she wouldn't move. To move she would have to think. She lay still, not wanting to dispel the numbness of mind and spirit.
She lay semi-comatose like that when Wedge entered some minutes later. Thinking oh my god, he rushed to the bed and immediately felt her pulse, and was relieved to feel she had one, even though her eyelids did not flutter. Before rousing her, knowing she would never remember it, he quietly caressed her breast, squeezing gently and then applying his lips to its coral tip.
Curiosity satisfied for the time being, he went into her living room and looked through several cabinets before he finally found a bottle of gin in her kitchen. Brandy would have been preferable, but when the clear liquid burned over her tongue her eyes blinked open. When he poured another shot into her she had to lift her head and gulp.
"I think I'm going to do you a favor," he said. She could not have looked less curious about his favor to her, and more surprisingly did not bat an eye when he explained, "I'm going to let you suck my cock now. You're scheduled to come to my office to suck it first thing in the morning-tomorrow's Friday-but I think you need a good night's sleep."
He had expected a sarcastic rejoinder to that, knowing Miss Slade, but she said nothing. Was her spirit already broken? Or was she merely dazed?
When he climbed onto the bed beside her and opened his fly to take out his cock to rub it across her lips, she opened her mouth. He did not immediately insert it and her tongue came out, stretching flaccidly to lick at its vermilion tip from which he'd peeled back the foreskin. She licked slowly around its velvety knob and with her tongue-tip lingered over the nick at the very end. His cock began to swell and she opened her mouth to receive it, drawing its semi-flaccid length in with her own suction and fastening her lips into a tight ring around the base of it, her nose flush with his pubis.
Her tongue worked. She kept her lips tightly around the base of the shaft even when it swelled to full size, craning her neck to accept it in its entirety. She rotated her head and worked her tongue with briskness, shutting her eyes again as she did so.
She gave an all right blow job. It wasn't a terrific blow job. Wedge decided to linger in her; he didn't want to let her begin what was to become a thrice-weekly ritual in too sloppy a manner.
After fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, of quiet sucking, she roused herself from her numb robot-like state enough to say, "Please cum."
"You'll have to put a little more into it," Wedge said, not unkindly.
She fastened her mouth onto his shaft again and when she tugged at his pants he rolled his hips from side to side to allow her to pull them down to his knees. She rolled over onto him and began to crush her breasts against his thighs, twisting her torso back and forth to roll them softly against him. She caressed his belly and flanks with her hands before cradling his huge nuts in one hand, stroking them and reaching beneath to stroke his asshole with her fingertip. She worked her tongue with a bit of wildness now, and with that and her stroking him and pressing and rolling her tits against him, Wedge came.
Her cheeks billowed and hollowed as she swallowed the spurt after spurt of viscous gism, squeezing his nuts with her hand and his cock with her mouth and rocking her head to milk it all out of him, swallowing rapidly. She swallowed several more times as his wilting cock passed from her mouth.
Wedge put her to bed, rolling back the covers, rolling her over and, when she stuck her feet in, covering her up.
"I think you'll find that tonight was a valuable experience for you," he said, and her face remained blank but he knew that somewhere in her mind she heeded him and so he explained: "You and, I might add, all your friends, have been throwing certain terms of abuse around rather loosely. Now I hate to see the language, the only method of communication we in academia have, ruined like that. I hate to see it lose its force. I think that someday-maybe when you're older and wiser-you'll agree with me. Anyway, you and your friends have been calling us, me and my colleagues, 'male chauvinist pigs' for a few years now. It's possible that tonight you've come into contact for the first time with men who might fit that description a little more accurately than we do-men to whom it might be applied with a bit more accuracy, that is.
"Anyway, I am aware that it must have been a rough lesson, that it was not completely pleasant, and partly for that reason I've decided to let you have the weekend entirely to yourself, that is, I will make no demands on you or your time, not until Monday morning or so . . . uh, why don't you come in during our scheduled hour to suck me off, and then we'll decide what to do with you next? Okay?"
She didn't answer, but that didn't matter and he continued, "And if you want to look on the bright side-you look a bit tuckered out at the moment, but I'm sure that when you wake up in the morning you'll want to be able to look on the bright side-the worst is behind you. Now, what you can look forward to in the next week and a half is sex that should be rather pleasant and rather varied. It will be good experience for you and you will undoubtedly learn some lessons, but none of them will be quite so harsh as tonight's lesson. Okay?"
She did not respond, but he knew she understood and he gave her a fatherly peck on the cheek, turned out the bedroom light, the living room light, the porch light, and left, locking the front door behind him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Behind her office desk in Hurlburd Hall sat Professor Lucretia Slade, her feet propped up on the desk like a man as she bounced a pencil on its eraser, staring blankly. She mused, absently, not wanting to think too seriously lest she upset herself. Wedge had said that he would come by at 4:30. He was five minutes late. She wondered if that meant she could leave, but knew she'd better not.
She had showed up at his office promptly at 7:30 this morning and sucked his cock. That was all. She had tried speaking to him, but he hadn't said a word. He had merely scooted his chair out from his desk and unzipped his fly. He pulled out his flabby cock and sat back, face expressing nothing. Seeing what was expected of her, she had gone to her knees and serviced him. When she'd milked the last driblet of semen from his balls he caressed the back of her neck, still silent. It had been eerie, that was the main thing-she hadn't relished the thought of doing it and she had done it in a trancelike state. She had felt like a voiceless animal performing in the dark and, since it wasn't traumatic or frightening and since-whatever her arousal-she had not been serviced herself, it had been eerie, mildly disturbing to think about without being able to pinpoint the reason. Had it actually happened? Should she check her stools? And then when she was on the way out the door he had said he'd come to her office at four-thirty.
And so she sat bouncing her pencil, staring at it without knowing what was going to happen, not knowing if it was going to repel her or disgust her or make her call the whole thing off. Her resolve to call the whole thing off, and to hell with her job, had fled her after the sailors raped her. Now, she wanted to call it off, she thought she did, but mere desire is not determination. Her present lack of resolve was the most eerie thing of all and she didn't think it had that much to do with Wedge's saying that the worst part was over, however sure she was that nothing could be as unpleasant as those three men. She had sucked his cock this morning and it hadn't really fazed her, and she knew that she could suck him off in the same way twice more or fourteen times more and it still wouldn't make all that much difference to her. She felt tired; she had spent the weekend recuperating, but still she felt tired. Too tired to think properly.
What she needed, she knew, was to attend a Women's Lib rally. That would fill her with resolve. Or just to talk to Samantha, who could sometimes be a one-man Women's Lib rally.
But Samantha hadn't come to see her until Sunday afternoon, and even then she'd been coolly distant, still miffed at having been sent home Thursday night and knowing full well that she, Lucy, was involved somehow with a man.
Wedge knocked peremptorily and entered before he could be asked, carrying a small paper bag with Sprouse-Reitz printed on it in red letters. He tossed the bag onto her desk. She stared at it dumbly.
"Well," he said, jocularly, "your pussy all primed?"
"No," she said with a matter-of-fact weariness.
"I imagine it will be soon enough," he said, a twinkle in his eye.
She hated the twinkle in his eye; she hated his whole manner. If she could just hate him enough, she told herself, maybe her determination would return. She grimaced, trying to look bored with the whole thing in spite of the flutter in her chest.
"Open it," he said, motioning to the bag.
When she dumped it onto her desk she thought it was a garter of some kind, a rather mundane black satin garter, but she immediately saw that it was a blindfold-stuffed satin pads for the eyes and an elastic band to go around the head.
"What's this?" she asked. "Will this let you pretend that I'm Raquel Welch, some insipid little sex goddess?"
Her sarcasm wasn't coming off, did not faze him; she wasn't up to it this afternoon. He merely said, "It's for you."
"Oh. I'm supposed to pretend you're Rock Hudson?"
"Pretend whatever you like," he said. "You're more in touch with your own fantasy life than I am."
"Come on, Wedge," she said, showing annoyance, enunciating his name like she'd said "asshole." She sighed. "I'm not up to any silly little games."
"No games," he said.
"What are you planning now?" she said. "And what if I don't want to go along with it?"
"You'll go along with it," he said.
"Look!" she cried. "I can call it quits any time! I'm bored with you! And at the moment I don't care that much what happens!"
"You might not," he conceded. "But in that rational not-so feminine soul of yours, Lucy, you know that one little screw more-or-less isn't going to make that much difference, whether you care what happens or not."
"Well, what are you fantasizing? More, or less?"
"You do care?"
"What?" she cried. "No games! What is it."
"Well, for a start, you can put on the blindfold and take off your underpants-unless you'd prefer to take off your underpants and then put on the blindfold."
Lucy hiked her skirt where she sat and, without standing, lifted her ass slightly to skim out of her panties.
"Your skirt, too," Wedge said.
Wearily, she stood, undid her belt, unzipped her skirt, and when she'd stepped out of it folded it and put it on a corner of her desk. Then she sat back down again. The oak of her chair was cold against her skin.
Wedge stood and picked up the blindfold. She let him slip it over her head and fit the pads to her eyes.
"Can you see?"
"No, you just blindfolded me."
"You can't see anything?"
"No."
"Good."
He tugged at her shoulder and she stood. Wary of stumbling, she took short steps as he led her around to the far side of her desk. He let go of her and she frowned for a moment until she realized from the noises that he was clearing off her desk, or at least restacking books and papers. He nudged her forward until her thighs touched the desk top and then bent her over so that her arms and head touched the desk.
"Arms out to the sides."
She stretched her arms out and her hands extended over the sides of the desk. Her chest was flat on the desk and against her cheek she felt her desk pad. She bent her knees, resting her hips.
"No, stand," he said. "Don't bend your knees."
She did, and he positioned her lower anatomy, spreading her legs just so, her feet fairly far apart and flat on the floor-since she was fairly tall she could stand thus and her hips still jutted off the desktop, her belly arcing down without quite touching.
A nice sight, Wedge thought, stepping back the better to view it, looking at the upside-down V she presented, which from the parted globes of her buttocks to her heels, save for the smaller sharper V within the first, beginning with the pale brown, hairless crevice between her ass-cheeks and widening with the juncture of her thighs and her wispy, honey brown fluff. Her cuntlips were pulled tight to reveal the wrinkled puffy gash.
Wedge went to his knees to peer more closely into the center of her. Her charm had not activated, had not begun its self-lubrication. He spread it with his thumbs, blew warm air into her interior folds, then touched the very tip of his tongue to the bud of her clitoris. It stirred against his swishing tongue, erecting delicately. Peering down over his nose, he saw her inner lips inflate slightly as blood rushed to them and a second later juice bubbled from her vagina.
He sucked the puffy ridge of flesh into his mouth, his tongue flickering before probing into the hot wet core of her. She sighed. He realized that her breath had quickened.
"You eat-out pretty good," she said.
A compliment! Wedge was almost shocked. He was on the verge of telling her that he couldn't imagine anyone's looking at her pussy without wanting to eat it, but he thought the better of it and held his tongue.
Abruptly, he thrust two fingers into her now-sopping snatch and swirled them like drunken bobbins, rapidly feeling every fold in her cunt, as far as he could reach, almost able to touch her cervix.
"Ohhh, ohhhh, ohhhhh!" she moaned.
Her pussy was primed, he guessed.
"Can you hold tight for a minute before you get fucked?" he asked.
"You're giving me a choice?"
"You will hold tight!" he said. "You'll stay just like this. You will not move a muscle. You'll only have to wait for a minute or two."
"Where are you going?"
"Never mind," he said.
"Hey!" she said, raising her head and as she reached for her blindfold. "You're not going to have somebody come watch, are you?"
He caught her hand, saying, "No. I promise. No one will watch."
She relaxed again, stretching her arm back out to the edge of the desk.
"Do I have to tie you up?" he asked.
"That would be a drag, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, but we'll do it unless you promise not to take off your blindfold until I tell you, you can."
"Okay," she said. Why did she promise that? she wondered. But she didn't want to be tied up and thought she would be better off if she gave him minimal co-operation. He had eaten her pussy with a certain gusto. No one had made him eat her out a little; he could have just rammed it into her unready vagina.
She heard his footsteps approach the door, then stop-Wedge looked back, admiring the view of her from the door, thinking her exquisitely exposed to the intimate details of her hotly sopping pussy-and then she heard the doorknob turn, the door open and shut, and then she listened as his footstep receded down the hall. Then silence. Hurlburd Hall was always quiet in the last hour of the afternoon.
Just to prove to herself that she was no goddamn slave to Wedge, she quickly lowered her ass, bending her knees and bringing them together. Then she lifted her blindfold with her hand and peered around. Her office was the same; there was nothing she really wanted to see, so she fitted it back over her eyes. She lay face down, waiting. She felt weird lying like this with her bottom jutting out, and her arousal made it worse-it was that eerie feeling again. But a minute later she heard footsteps approach her office door and by the time the knob turned she was presenting the same wide-open view of her hindquarters as she had when Wedge left.
The footsteps stopped just inside the door, there was a pause, the door banged shut. The steps approached rapidly, stopping just behind her. Once more fingers probed at her twat, and however much the recently kindled flame had died down during her wait, it now blazed all the more. The hand withdrew, leaving her empty and panting as she gripped the corners of the desk. She heard a zipper, and her blood raced in anticipation.
Her next sensation was that of velvet being rubbed spongily up and down, up and down in her creaming sex slit. She waggled her ass, arced her belly more sharply down and began to squirm back onto the shaft which nudged itself gently into her central opening, her tightly slick goodie.
His hands gripped her hips. They gripped her quite firmly, lifting her and pulling her back, and in the split-second before her impalement her attention focused entirely on that pair of hands . . . the fingers were without calluses but were bony and pressed into her and she felt the cold metal of a ring, and she put this together rationally in her mind with already known facts even as the stiff massive cock slammed into her full-force sending a shudder up her spine, and she thought, "It's not Wedge!" and her stomach did a giant flip-flop and her heart caught in her throat even as the massive prong poked rapid-fire into her soft belly's depths a second time, a third, a fourth, rattling her teeth in her head as she found herself gripping tightly the corners of the desk to keep herself from being either knocked forward or pulled backwards. And she held on for dear life as his balls (whose heavy balls?) slapped her pubic triangle with each thrust, each unrelenting mad thrust into her throbbing cunt. Who is fucking me? Who's fucking me? she asked herself with each intake of breath as the thick prick thudded into her, making her cunt shudder and the rest of her shiver.
"It could be anybody . . . anybody could be fucking me," she answered herself as she humped her ass and ground her aching twat on the thudding cock, touching the floor only with her tiptoes now as his prick (anybody's prick) sent electric jolts tingling through every fiber in her heaving body.
"Who . . . who are . . . oh . . . Christ . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . yes . . . hard . . . fuck hard," she moaned between breaths as she tried to grasp, to cling to the slippery dick with her constricting vagina. And then she sucked her tongue halfway down her throat and gurgled noisily as she felt her will leaving her, her grip on the corners of the desk slipping, as she became pulp, her entire being focused for the moment on that one bunch of nerve endings in her sex-hole, each nerve plugged into her brain and pulsating, every fold in her cunt reamed flat by this man's (any man's) ram-rodding cock.
"Aiiiieeeeee," she screamed as it all got to her, her cunt convulsing and her torso thrashing and her legs buckling as she pounded the corners of the desk with her palms-hit, unhinged by a wild and lewd orgasm.
"Agghhh-ohh!" he groaned as his orgasm hit him, and she felt his cock expand in her constricted pussy to fire a cannon-load of cum into her, and she felt suffused clear through with warmth as his semen (mankind's semen) flowed in a river into the depths of her belly.
He pulled his pecker out then. It was still fairly hard and came out with a whoosh. And there was no question of her having caught her breath or regained muscle control-she was still panting heavily when she heard, somewhere in the back of her mind, the door close behind him.
She immediately fumbled with her hands to try to rip off her blindfold, but his footsteps had died out going down the hall before she could focus her eyes. He was gone, was beyond her reach, and she was still collapsed on her desk, her legs half-dangling, a rivulet of gism dribbling from her still-tingling twat.
Who was he? Who had fucked her? Her ears rang as she asked herself this, and she wondered if she would ever know.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Wedge opened the door of her office and saw Lucy lying that way across the top of her desk, he thought, Well, well, that looks like a woman who's just been fucked silly.
His erection returned full-force; god, he wanted to fuck her himself! But he knew he would fuck her later; it was best to wait. He walked to the far side of her desk and sat in her chair, gazing down at the panting woman for a minute before brushing the hair out of her eyes. He watched one eyeball find him, and then her iris hardened.
"You son of a bitch!" she exclaimed, after a moment. "You tricked me."
"You loved it," he said.
"You're a silly man," she said. "You're a presumptuous ass!"
"You've obviously been fucked half-mad," he said. "That would tend to indicate that you found the experience, ahh, stimulating."
"Who was it?"
He chortled.
His obvious pleasure with himself made her see red. The ass! "Who?" she demanded, her face grim.
"You can't make me tell you-hysteria does not move me."
"I'm not hysterical!" she said between clenched teeth.
"No, but you're threatening to become that way and I'm merely warning you that it won't do you any good."
"You don't intend to tell me whom I've just had intercourse with?" she asked, disbelieving.
"You don't have to worry, he'll be discreet."
"I want to know!"
"What difference does it make?"
"What difference does it make?" she repeated after him. "Whom one has sex with makes a lot of difference."
"Not at this point. You were well-fucked. That's all that should matter to you."
"You're a creep," she said. "Why don't you get out of here?"
She stood, holding a hand between her legs, and walked around to his side of the desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out some tissues with which she wiped away evidence of her spending. From the grimly broken expression on her face, he knew that she was near tears.
"It was one of your colleagues," he said.
"Not for long," she said. "Because this whole thing is off. I'm sending in my resignation at once. I've had enough shit from you to last a lifetime."
"You haven't had much of anything from me," he said. "I haven't even deigned to fuck you."
"Deigned."
"That's right," he said.
His use of language infuriated her; everything about him infuriated her. Besides, he had fucked her, although she realized that he meant he hadn't fucked her in the cunt. But she didn't want to remind him of that and she didn't want to get into a quibble over semantics. "Well, that's your tough luck," she said, as she began to dress, rapidly pulling on her panties and then her skirt. "You missed your opportunity."
"Think about it," he said.
"About what? Having sex with you?"
"No, about your job. Don't be rash. I'll expect you to show up in my office at seven-thirty Wednesday morning."
"You're an ass," she said, and those were her parting words as she left him sitting behind her desk.
He knew she would show up, however. He had no doubt whatsoever. He knew that she had been damned turned-on, that her anonymous lover had gotten to her more than she cared to admit, surely more than she would admit to him, and quite probably more than she would admit to herself.
Late Wednesday afternoon Professor Lucretia Slade was once again seated behind her desk in Hurlburd Hall, her feet propped up on a corner of the desk like a man as she bounced a pencil on its eraser, staring blankly. She bounced her pencil quite nervously. She knew all too well what to expect. She was on to Wedge's strategy. She knew he was wearing her away bit-by-bit. Sucking his cock again this morning hadn't made that much difference to her-after what she'd been through, what did it mean to suck his cock one more time? And now she knew that he was going to come blindfold her again. She had already had sex anonymously once, and so it would not be new, nor that traumatic. Yes, he was eroding her will to resist, her very character. The point with erosion of one's self, the way to fight it, was simply to call a halt now. Bouncing her pencil, she summoned whatever willpower and determination she still possessed.
The phone rang. She answered it almost with relief, only to hear Wedge's voice crackle over the receiver. She looked at her watch; it was four-thirty all right, but she had expected him to come by.
"You wore a dress today, so you're going to have to strip. I'll be there in five minutes and I expect you to be lying across your desk just like you did last Monday, your ass high in the air. Your blindfold is in the rear of your top desk drawer."
Click. When the dead receiver began buzzing, her blood raced. She had expected him to come by so she could argue with him. She was confused. What should her own strategy be? She had to trick him somehow.
When they came, she recognized Wedge's footsteps. It was funny, the things she had begun to notice. The past two days, she had looked very carefully at hands; whenever she saw a colleague, her eyes would go to his hands.
Wedge opened the door on a sight, lovely to behold, of exquisitely exposed femininity. If anything, she was a bit more exposed than she had been two days before, the increased spread of her crotch due, he realized, to the high heels she was wearing. The white V of her legs was wider, her cuntlips tighter, her wrinkled, pink-red inner lips slightly parted-this much, he could see from the door. When he approached her, he immediately sniffed the deep musk, the scent of excitement. Her salivating pussy seemed to suck at his fingers, anxious to have its warmth invaded. Within a minute, his slowly slithering fingers had wrested a moan from her-involuntary, he was sure.
Privy to the most intimate tremors of her throbbing cunt, Wedge withdrew his hand and wiped his slickened fingers on his handkerchief. This was all of the evidence he needed: her high state of preparedness was a sure sign that her cunt dominated her mind. But it is nice to have a touch of insurance, and for insurance he knelt and affixed his lips to the gushing morsel. He sucked and tongued her puffs and folds until she moaned unabashedly, her whole lower body quivering, and then he stood, wiped his chin on his handkerchief, and exited without saying a word.
With a deep chuckle, Lucy stood and whipped off her blindfold. She was going to win this round! She would confront her demon lover, not only would she find out who he was, but she would tell him that she hadn't enjoyed it very much and that he most assuredly could not do it again. She chortled to herself, blood racing in her veins; slightly dizzy, she took several deep breaths. And then she heard the approach of footsteps, beginning faintly from midway down the hall and becoming louder as heels hit the linoleum of the empty hallway, step after measured step. And when they were just outside her office, it hit her: it wasn't the same man! She could tell that this was a rather heavy man. A dozen questions and/or problems posed themselves in her mind at once. Her mind reeled, spinning like a merry-go-round. She didn't have time to put on her dress. He was now closer to her door than she was and she couldn't get to it and lock it. If she challenged him when he entered, he would be the one to assume innocence. How would she explain herself? How could she explain being naked? Could she tell him what had made the juice of her sexual arousal gush onto her thighs? How could she get out of this with the least embarrassment?
II not me, Miss Slade, whom did you expect? Which of our colleagues were you waiting for? If not me, Miss Slade, why not me? I'll have to speak to the tenure committee about this.
Her last conscious thought was of his hands. This time the hands were thick and chubby, the fingers short and he did not grip her hips so tightly. Her last fully conscious thought occurred in that moment just before he penetrated her, in that moment just before the wailing half-mad animal within was unleashed; she did not fully pass out until her orgasm hit her.
Wedge had been sitting at her desk a full five minutes before she revived herself enough to remove her blindfold, and then he saw that she had broken a fingernail clawing at her desk. She refused to look at him. She looked all around him, eyes furtively darting here and there, and she seemed to have no impulse to speak. When she stepped around the desk for the tissues, he reached out, caressed her cheek, then held her chin to make her look at him, and when he looked in her eyes he saw what he expected.
"I want to watch you and Samantha make love tonight," he said.
She did a double-take, and then when she was sure she had heard him properly, she said, "No chance."
"Why?"
"No chance. That's all there is to it."
"I am telling you that I am going to watch the two of you together tonight. You don't have much choice in the matter."
"No chance." She had fitted her tits into her bra and now fastened it before looking around, still dazed, for her panties, finding them under her dress. She lifted a leg, unsteadily, to step in.
"Then tell me why."
"We're not seeing each other anymore."
"Why did you break up?"
"We didn't exactly break up. We're just not seeing each other."
"Let me guess," he said. "You enjoy having a man put it to you so much that you've sworn off ladies, forevermore? Is that it?"
"Wedge," she said, with an annoyed moaning sigh, "you're an unmitigated fool."
"She found a better-tasting pussy?"
"And a creep! And a bore!" she yelled. "Now let me alone."
"Then isn't it about time you saw her again?"
"She's mad at me. She thinks I have a boyfriend."
"A-hah!" he said. "So Samantha is afraid that your enjoyment of having a man put it to you will be so great that you will swear off the ladies."
"Samantha would state it a bit more subtly, and with a bit more psychological insight, but she might think something similar to that." She pulled her dress over her head, and turned to Wedge to have him zip her up.
"Call her up, tell her you've been wrong, that a man would never be able to do it for you, that you'll die if you don't see her."
"Wouldn't that just titillate you, though? Jesus, all male chauvinist pigs fantasize about what women do together."
"I thought we'd cured you of using that term too loosely," he said.
"Whoops," she said, obviously not meaning it, "it slipped out by accident."
"Can you blame us for fantasizing about it?" he asked. "Don't you think that what you do together is beautiful?"
"Of course it is."
"Well then, I've been educating you recently. You owe me a return favor."
"I wouldn't call it education-you're fucking me over, you're going to ruin me yet if I give you half a chance. But that doesn't matter as far as our argument goes. The point is that there is no reason to drag Samantha into this. I owe that to her."
"You're not dragging her into anything-you are going to make love to her, that's all."
"Sure, I'll tell her to have a beautiful orgasm, just for dear old Wedge, is that it?"
"Whatever turns her on," he said, smirking.
"Not that-harbor no illusions; that would not turn her on, believe me."
"She hates men that much?"
"Yes."
"So the very thought of your becoming involved with a man does disturb her."
"I told you as much."
"And she puts you down for it."
"Yes," she said, smiling slightly. "Has she ever had a proper fuck."
"I would guess not."
"That girl needs to be taught a lesson, I'd say," Wedge said.
"Undoubtedly," Lucy said. "But you're not the man to do it."
"I could do it," he said, quite simply.
"Not through me," she said.
"Well, that might be sort of hard to explain to Samantha," he said. "But I'm going to come over tonight and watch you. You won't have to breathe a word about that to her."
"No you're not," she said.
"Think about it," he said. "Doesn't her holier-than-thou, her, uh, more liberated-than-thou attitude get to you?"
"A little bit, I suppose," Lucy said, trying to he or at least to minimize.
"Then she deserves to have someone--me--watch her beautiful orgasms," he said.
"Your logic is specious," she said.
"I'll be by about eight," he said. "Have Samantha come shortly thereafter, and that will give us time to figure out our geometry, how to give me a hiding place with a view."
"No," she said.
"Eight o'clock," he said, getting up and leaving her, giving her a broad grin from the door.
CHAPTER NINE
For the past few nights Lew had driven past the Wedges' house, but each night either the car had been in the drive or all the lights had been off, which meant that both of them were home or neither was home. Lew wanted to see Ellen; he did not want to see the professor, and had been avoiding him at school in spite of a dissertation conference being due. His balls had ached until Monday, after Miss Slade kicked him. He had gone to the doctor, and the doctor had said time and hot baths would tell the tale. It did, and he'd managed to get a hard-on again on Monday, whereupon he'd taken to driving past the Wedges'. He knew he should probably go by during the day, just to see her, but he didn't know what she did during the day, and the unknown made him slightly nervous. He was still mad at Wedge for getting him into that situation-he'd known all along he was going to get a boot in the nuts out of it-in spite of his getting a couple of pieces of ass out of the bargain. And so he was peeved at Wedge without quite knowing how he was going to give expression to his simmering outrage.
Tonight he found two lights on, both in the back of the house, and the car wasn't in the drive, so he parked and rang the bell. The porch light came on, and it was Ellen's face which peered at him through the peek-a-boo window in the door.
They said hello, and then she said, "Harry's not home. Why don't you come in for a minute?"
She told him to take a seat, that she was making a dress and would be back in a minute, and invited him to fix himself a drink. She then disappeared into the kitchen. She looked ravishing, as usual. Her hair was slightly mussed and she wore a pair of toreador pants which had begun to bag at the knees but were still tight at the crotch, and a silk print blouse. He went to the liquor cabinet. If he'd had it his way, her greeting would have been a little more effusive. He wondered what had gone on in her mind.
She returned with a mouth full of straight pins and several pieces of purple velvet which had been cut out into her pattern. She sat down beside him and began to pin things together. This immediately depressed him-Christ, she wasn't even going to talk to him! She was just going to sit there and sew! Shit.
"Where have you been keeping yourself?" she asked. "Harry said he hasn't seen you at school."
From the brief if searching glance she shot him, he thought maybe she was hurt that he hadn't come by for seconds. "I had to spend several days in bed," he said.
"Flu?" she asked sympathetically.
"No, I got kicked in the testicles." How much should he spill to her? he wondered.
"Insulting young ladies again?"
"Not really. I happened to go to a Women's Lib rally. The speaker was hollering, 'All men are pigs!' I yelled, 'Bullshit!' and some broad turned around and kicked me, whammo! right in the balls."
"Serves you right."
"Thanks."
"Women deserve their say, like anyone else. You don't have to agree with everything they say."
"But you get a kick in the balls if you say so?"
"Well, maybe that's a little extreme," she said, smiling slightly around her mouthful of pins, and after a moment of trying to hold it back she removed the pins and laughed out load. "That must have been a sight! I would have loved to have seen the look on your face."
"Why? Don't tell me you're mad at me?"
"No," she said. "As I said, I haven't seen you. Why would I be mad at you?"
"Well, here I am."
"So you are," she said, noncommittally.
"Maybe I should go," he said. "I just thought I'd drop by-I wanted to see you-I didn't mean to interrupt your sewing or anything."
"You don't have to leave yet," she said. "You're not interrupting me."
"I've been thinking a lot about the other night," he said, which was an exaggeration, since he hadn't given her much thought at all, having spent most of his time fretting about Miss Slade.
"Which night?" she asked.
Was she being coy? Had it slipped her mind? "Uh, the night we screwed," he said, deciding to be blunt.
"Oh, that night," she said, speaking quickly. "Yes, Harry and I talked about that. I told him that two men at once is simply too much for me. I don't know if I can handle it psychologically. Or physically. I don't want to become accustomed to something like that."
"That's unfair to me," he said. "I've become quite attached to you."
"I'm attached to you, too," she said. "We can go on being friends, can't we?"
"But that leaves me with the frustration of knowing that you're the sexiest woman around. If I can't touch you, it'll be hell."
"You'll have to talk to Harry about that," she said.
"You have no sympathy?"
"I have oodles of sympathy," she said, "but you're a big boy now. You can take care of yourself." She grinned. "If you can shout down speakers at Women's Lib rallies, you can take care of yourself."
"None too well, apparently," he said.
She smirked. My god, he thought, has she been a Women's Libber all this time, hiding in the closet?
"I'm in perfect agreement with Women's Lib," he said. "I still resent being called a pig."
"Do you think of all women as sex objects?" she asked. "Some men deserve to be called pigs, you know."
"No," he said. "Just you. You'll be the only woman I can think of sexually for a long time, whether I can touch you or not."
"Flattering of you to say so," she said. "But you'll snap out of it."
Lew was aware that his hand was trembling. He was not used to being rebuffed! "I will not snap out of it!" he said, almost yelling. "To me, you're it!"
"You'll recover," she said, her voice sugary, almost syrupy, too much so for his taste. "You'll find someone like me, someday. Women get better with age."
His hand still trembling-although he didn't know from rage or hurt-he gripped her thigh, just above her knee, the inside of her thigh, saying, "No! I'm not some dumb kid! I will not be put off with that you'll-grow-up-some-day routine."
"I know. I know," she said soothingly, tugging once, twice, at his hand and then giving up and holding it, patting it. "I'm not giving you any routine."
"I'm only a few years younger than you are," he said.
"I know." The same syrupy, soothe-him-at-any-cost tone.
"I'm going to kiss you."
"No!"
"Ellen! I can't help it!"
His hand had gone to the back of her neck, which he squeezed firmly enough to convey knowledge that he could get rough. He held her firm, giving her no place to back off to, and applied his lips to hers, kissing her. Her lips remained firm as she squealed, "No! No! No!"
"Kiss me, damnit. It's the least you can do!"
Perhaps frightened, she parted her lips just space enough to admit part of his tongue, whereupon he kissed more softly, osculating slowly.
His hand which had gripped her thigh moved to her crotch which he gripped just as firmly and began to rub through the thin cloth of her pants. Both of her hands shot to his to try to shove it away, and then, when that failed, to try to hold it still. Her mouth was softer and for split-seconds at a time she would kiss back.
Ellen noticed that as his one hand dug more firmly at her vulva, his other gradually relaxed at the back of her neck. Breathless, she twisted her head to the side, saying, "No, Lew. Please stop. We can't, it's not fair to Harry."
"It's not unfair to him either," Lew said. "You're not his property, his chattel. Neither am I. If you were sure he was loyal to you, it might be different."
This shot through her like a bolt-it was as if Lew had just read her mind, what she'd been thinking for almost a week now. Harry hadn't come near her since . . . since he'd made her screw Lew! Should she ask? Did she really want her fears confirmed?
"What do you know?" she asked.
"That I love you," he said.
"That's not what I meant," she said.
"It's the only thing I can think about," he said.
He was misleading her; he was just upsetting her.
While her mind had been preoccupied, he had somehow unbuttoned the top several buttons of her blouse, and now buried his head in her cleavage, sucking greedily at the tops of her breasts. He nipped delicately. She stroked the back of his head.
"Come on, Lew. Please stop. You're just upsetting me."
He drew back. He even moved his hand from her vulva, which was a relief.
"No," he said. "You have to admit that I turn you on."
"You do," she said. "Of course you do."
"Don't say I'm upsetting you, then," he said.
"That's what upsets me," she said. "Harry will get mad at us."
"He'll never know," Lew said.
She discovered that he'd drawn back only to pull her on top of him, his strong arms pulling her first by the shoulders and then by the buttocks as he lay back on the couch. Before she knew it, he had her blouse the rest of the way unbuttoned and had pulled it out and unsnapped her brassiere. She tried to twist away, but he held her firm by the buttocks and pulled her, sliding her along the top of himself. She tried to push away, push away from the couch and him, her arms on each side of his head, but her breasts were so pendulous that they hung right down into his face. He seized one of her puckered brown-red berries between his teeth and began sucking, tonguing feverishly enough to send chills down her spine. She found that no matter which way she tried to twist her torso, the end of her soft teat stayed firmly in his sucking mouth-in fact, her writhing seemed to excite him. He had closed his eyes.
Each time she tried to lift her hip, to twist away, he held more firmly onto her buttockwhile she strained in one direction, he only needed one hand to hold her down, and quickly used his other to unzip the side of her pants. From there, it was no trouble at all to slide one hand and then the other into her pants.
When she felt his hard hands gliding across her smooth buttocks, Ellen shivered. Was all lost? She clamped her knees together, her last recourse.
But all he had to do, since his legs were outside hers, was to worm one knee in between hers and then the other. In the same motion he used to spread his legs, he shoved her pants down a ways. Her panties had been plastered to her juiced crotch, and when she felt the cool air waft across her now-vulnerable pussy, Ellen knew somewhere in her feminine soul that all was lost.
A split second later both Lew's hands were in her crotch, all ten fingertips rubbing madly up and down the whole length of her slick sex slit, from her erect clit across her cunt-mouth and almost to her cringing anus. From that second on she was humping her hips, banging his stomach with her pelvis while he rubbed with increasing and more rapid pressure, humping so hard that her breasts jiggled in his face, squealing, "No, Lew! No, Lew! No, Lew!"
When he speared her clitoris with one forefinger, holding it down as he rubbed in a maddened little circle, he ran two fingers smack into her sopping steaming snatch, her arms collapsed. She smothered him with her breasts as she lay atop him, holding her hips as quivering still as she could, moaning, "Ohhh, ohhhhhh, OHHH-ohhhhh!"
"We'll go on like this until you ask me to fuck you," he said.
"Fuck me," she said. I can't help it, she thought, I'm horny.
He rolled to the side, rolling her off himself, then he stood, catching both her toreadors and panties from the front and yanking as she kicked her feet.
She lifted her upper leg, pointing her knee at the ceiling even as he lay back down and unzipped his fly. Her inner cuntlips glistened wet-ly and her jet black curls were stuck down on either side of her gash. Before he got his pants down, she had a-hold of his cock and centered it on her steaming pussy-when its massive knob was properly pointed, she began hunching her hips as she pulled his cock into her with one hand.
When he began rocking his hips, she let go, and both bodies became smoothly undulant as his rock-hard prong forced its way into her soft creamy goodie. With each new prick-thrust into her tingling twat, Ellen murmured "Mmmmmm" as she continued to rock. When he had fully entered her, she clasped his cock with her vaginal muscle and tugged: in unison, they rolled over, Ellen onto her back. She shoved his trousers down over his hips and began to caress his buttocks, feeling the muscles work as Lew ground slowly in and out. She ground back, working her pussy up and down on the skewering cock while Lew buried his face in her tits, sucking feverishly, one nipple and then the other.
Ellen was in a dream state; her cunt felt utterly plugged. She caressed the back of his neck. Her nipples felt so swollen she thought they might burst. The tingle in her cunt became fiercer. Panting through her nose and rolling her head in circles, she began to buck her hips in fury, wanting it hard now, wanting to be fucked hard. Lew's balls slapped her anus as his thrusts became more rapid, and her hips left the couch completely as she tried to grind herself up onto the plunger.
From the way she clasped him with her cunt and the way she had begun to buck at him, her slick twat rippling on his churning cock, Lew knew she was as tightly wound as she would ever be. He began to slam into her foaming cunt with everything he could muster.
"Yes! Yes!" she gurgled. "Hard! Nice and hard!"
Further urging would have been redundant, for, gasping, Lew pounded her pulsating pussy, as though to permanently iron out its folds with his ramrod cock. Ellen had been at a dizzy plateau for some time now and Lew drove into her in his aching determination to knock aside whatever vestigial self-control she might still have, grunting through his nose as he battered her quaking twat.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Ellen yelped as she neared the breaking point, tense and electrified as the coal of excitement glowed red-hot in her about-to-explode cunt. She squeezed Lew with every muscle she had and felt his pile-driving cock give a mighty twitch and then another before his overload of gism boiled over and blasted into her, shattering her. "Ahhhh! AHHHHHHHH!" she squealed as she felt herself dissolving into a mindless puddle.
"Aggh . . . arrhhggg . . . ufff," Lew gasped, collapsing atop her, utterly depleted, and yet rosily aglow with intimate knowledge that his professor's wife did indeed throw a sensuous fuck.
After a few minutes he eased his sorely dwindled pecker out of her gushing twat and rolled off. Ellen picked up a corner of her blouse and wiped her brow and then her chest.
"You're great," he said. "You're everything I've dreamed about."
"I feel I should have said 'no' like I meant it," she said, then paused for a minute before saying, "but you're such a turn-on that I don't think I could have helped myself-not under any circumstances."
"That's what I like to hear," he said, grinning broadly.
"Harry might be disappointed in us, though."
"We won't tell him."
"I'll have to-I'll feel guilty."
"That's not necessary."
"I can't help it," she admitted.
"You don't exactly know how you feel about me, at this point, do you?" he asked. "How it fits into your life?"
"No," she said, hesitantly, "not completely."
"Then why don't you just hang onto your guilt for awhile-until you know what you want to tell him."
"Maybe."
"Okay," Lew said thoughtfully, "he has a one o'clock class tomorrow. I'll come over then and we can figure some more things out."
"Umm, I don't know."
"You want to do this again, don't you? You won't be able to say no whether you admit it or not."
"I know," she said, a mild pout on her face. "Okay," he said. "We've got a date tomorrow."
They cuddled awhile and then he left. It occurred to Lew that he knew Wedge's schedule by heart-hell, he could see her five times a week if he wanted. Wedge would never be the wiser, never need know. Lew would see that he didn't know, not for a long time.
CHAPTER TEN
Lucy let him in, wordlessly.
"Well?" he said. "How soon will she arrive?"
"She's not coming."
"Why?"
"I didn't call her."
"Call her now."
"No."
"You'll regret this."
"Not as much as I will if I call her."
"You think not, eh?"
"I'm sure not."
"I might get violent."
"I might stab you through the heart with my knitting needle."
"You'd never be able to dispose of my body."
"I'd call Samantha."
"I'd just pretend dead," he said. "Then I would watch."
She laughed. "You'd stop at nothing."
"I won't stop until you call her."
"We'll see," she said, sitting on the couch. "Sit down if you like."
He sat in the easy chair, across her narrow living room from her. After a minute's silence, he said, "Tell me about your girlhood."
"Je-sus," she said. "Why on earth?"
"I have all evening," he said. "There are things I would rather be doing," she said. "If you must know."
"Eating Samantha?"
She grimaced and looked up at the ceiling. Both were silent, pointedly silent, and after three or four minutes she said, "You're a bore, Wedge."
"Well, I mustn't be a bore, must I? Stand up and take off your underpants."
"You think that'll interest me?" she asked, but she did so, dropping them on the floor.
"Now unzip your dress," he said, watching her. "Yes, take your arms out of the sleeves. Now take off your brassiere ..." He gave her step-by-step instructions until her breasts and cunt were exposed as she sat spread-eagled on the edge of the couch.
"You find this more interesting?" she asked.
"No, I'm bored," he said, yawning as if to prove it, "we're doing this to interest you."
"You ass!" she said, becoming riled.
"Exposing herself to a man should give a woman pleasure," he said. "You probably need practice."
"Well, it doesn't!" she said, almost screaming. "I'm bored to tears." She did look on the verge of tears.
"Call Samantha."
"No."
Motioning her to stay put, Wedge got up and went into her kitchen. A moment later he was back carrying a broom. He pointed the handle across the coffee table toward her.
"You expect me to stick that in my vagina?" she asked, incredulous.
"Unless you'd rather stick it up your ass," he said.
"You're a puerile creep," she said, meaning it.
"Call Samantha," he said.
Without bothering to say no, Lucy reached out, touched the end of the handle, finding it wet and cold to the touch. Frowning, she drew it toward her pussy, reaching down to spread her folds until she had it centered and then, grimacing, she slowly drew it in until maybe eight inches of the broom handle had gone into her snatch.
"Don't hurt me," she said. "That's all the farther it will go."
Casually, he reached out and twiddled his end of the broom, the other end spinning in her cunt. She closed her eyes and bit a knuckle.
When he stopped, she looked up and said, "This is pretty goddamn silly, you know it? I've never felt sillier in my life!"
"You've probably never looked sillier," he said.
Lucy felt positively eerie-that disturbing feeling again. It was eerie to sit around with your dress bunched around your middle and a broomstick up yourself. It was the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard of. And look at him, just sitting there and watching her-why, he wasn't even doing that very intently.
"Fuck yourself with it," he said.
"No!"
"Call Samantha."
Wordlessly, she reached down and touched the broom handle with both hands as it lay across the coffee table. Slowly, she withdrew it from her pussy and, just as slowly, inserted it. She shut her eyes again, not to have to look at him as she fucked herself. Presently he noted that her wrinkled inner lips, which encircled the surrogate member, had become puffier and deeper in color, and that her clitoris had erected. She moved the stick more rapidly, working it around in her pussy with ease.
RINGG! RinGG! They looked at each other, startled. Lucy disengaged herself from the broom and leaned to her side to reach for the phone, which was on an end table.
"Hello ... Oh, SAMANTHA, hi! How are you?"
Wedge moved over beside her where she lay bent and on her side on the couch. Insurance, he thought, taking out insurance. He lifted her upper leg and bent it back. She tried to hold his head away, but he succeeded in applying his mouth to her pussy which was hot and fully juiced with her own lubricant. He tongued madly while Lucy spoke breathlessly into the phone, "No nothing. I was just sitting around half naked thinking about you, that's all. . . . No, I didn't have the nerve to call-you seemed too mad at me. ... Of course I'd like that. I can't wait. . . . Good. . . . How long? Twenty minutes? . . . Okay, bye-bye, Puss."
"Wedge?" she said, looking down at him. His face still buried in her snatch, he winked, then shoved her legs farther back and slithered his tongue more tightly across her clit and into her goodie. She moaned, began to squirm, gasped, and after a moment said, "If you do that any more, there won't be anything left for Samantha."
He tongued her, as it were, sitting up.
"That shows years of practice," she said.
"Some pussies beg to be eaten," he said. "Yours is one."
"Feel free," she said.
"When you're good," he said.
"I knew there'd be a catch," she said. She sat up and pulled her dress off over her head.
"We have twenty minutes," he said. "Tell me about your girlhood."
"Why do you keep asking me about my girlhood?"
"I might have a daughter someday."
"So?"
"So I'd want her to grow up and be like you." She laughed, almost raucously. "Why," she finally managed to say, "so she could grow up and be tormented half out of her wits by some creepy sex-fiend?"
"When a daughter of mine would reach your age," he said, "society will be different. Women will have most of what they want, and consequently will not be so antagonistic to men. As a result, she would not have so many lessons to learn the hard way."
"Like me?"
"Yes."
"You're nuts. But maybe I will tell you about my girlhood sometime. Right now, I have to get ready for Samantha. Get rid of that goddamn broom, and I'll hide you in the closet."
Wedge waited in the closet in the bedroom for what seemed an incredible length of time. First he heard voices in the living room, and then they came into the bedroom. Lucy was in the midst of telling Samantha that no mere man could ever replace her and that it was silly to get upset about it. He thought he heard them undressing, and then all was quiet. He became impatient, wondering what he was missing. But a signal had been arranged and, not wanting to blow Lucy's scene, he waited for it. Lucy had said that Samantha went into a near trance when she was being eaten, and that it would be safe to look out then.
"Nothing's nicer than having my tongue up your pussy," he heard: that was the signal. Taking a deep breath he quietly opened the door and peered out.
At first the good professor, taking too much in all at once, had difficulty telling who was on whom, since, hair flying and grunting through their noses, they were a tangle of arms and legs. He opened the door a little wider and saw that it was Lucy who was on Samantha. She had Samantha's red-crested snatch spread wide with her thumbs, gobbling lasciviously at the pink delicacies at its center, slurping as she lapped up every drop of fluid that poured from her cunt, all the while keeping the girl's legs well-pinned with her arms. Samantha had her arms around Lucy's upthrust hips, hanging on tightly, since they were high in the air and waggling, her knees two feet apart on the bedspread and her back flopping in involuntary humping motions as Samantha ate at her, her jaws parted wide to cover her whole pussy, nose smack against her anus.
Lucy kept inching her knees back, seeming to want a firmer bite on Samantha's sopping snatch, her breasts dangling and parted slightly by the girl's slender waist. Samantha clung to Lucy's hips for dear life, her face positively buried in the woman's crotch: slowly, they seemed to inch across the bed.
Both maddened girls murmured lustily and gurgled deep in their throats, their tongues working to touch each other at the quick of their beings, each assaying to obtain the perfect impossible response from the center of the other and, from all appearances, succeeding. Lucy alternately probed Samantha's passion pit, licking her cunt-mouth clean with an unbelievably outstretched tongue, then backing off to suck slurpingly at her puffed labia and clitoris, possibly backing off and keeping her so well spread for Wedge's benefit; while Samantha hung onto Lucy's waggling hips for dear life and engulfed her cunt in a long sucking bite, never letting up.
Wedge swore he had never seen an expression of such raw lust. He stepped out of the closet and closer to the bed, moving silently in stockinged feet.
He peered down to watch the soft underside of Lucy's tongue swish over Samantha's clitoris, then the breadth of her tongue disappear amongst vaginal folds, her hands bearing down on Samantha's legs as if to split her in two. Samantha's body convulsed. Jerking spasmodically as her spine went haywire and her pussy began to contract, Samantha threw her head to belch "Aiiieeggghh!" before clamping her mouth onto Lucy's pulsing pussy with a deep intake of breath: she began whipping her head from side-to-side as if trying to suck Lucy inside out.
With reluctance, Wedge backed into the closet, peering again through the crack in the door as. Lucy cried "Oooof! Arghhh! Yeow!" and whipped her back, tightly held though she was, lifting first one buttock and then the other as she rolled from side-to-side, nipples rubbing the bedspread now as she seemed to want nothing more than to shake Samantha off. But she spread her legs to their utmost and then reared up. Samantha's head was pressed into the mattress as she continued to gobble at Lucy's now-twitching twat. Lucy's partially reared torso shuddered, her breasts flapping wildly back and forth as she screamed, "That's it! That's it! That's it! I'm ... I'm .. . I've . . ." and then collapsed, her glistening body sagging visibly as she rolled to the side. Wedge had shut the door, and didn't see her topple over. And as she fell to the side, a half-conscious Lucy noted somewhere in the back of her mind, with a certain relief, that the closet door was closed.
What prompted Samantha, then? Had Lucy been so nice to her that she aroused suspicion, in addition? What prompted her when she'd recovered from the aftershock of her own orgasm, and lay idly scratching her left tit, to suddenly look at the closet door? There was no noise from the closet. Had she been less involved than she appeared when her tongue probed the folds of Lucy's cunt? Did she have ESP? or did she simply have a nose for a man?
When she thought back on it, Lucy could not get over the uncanny peculiarity of it, the way Samantha had stood and marched right to the closet and opened the door, just like that.
"I smelled a pig!" she screamed, and in that half-minute before she began flailing at Wedge, she turned to her friend and said, "See what happens? See! Let a pig put it to you and your morals are subverted, you pervert love just to satisfy pig fantasies!"
And then everything became a nightmare, with Samantha flailing blindly as she screamed one thing after another at the both of them, her hands too quick, her step too spry, for Wedge to quell her ... he grabbed for her hand every time she walloped his gullet, every time she slapped his nose, until he finally lunged for her, half-tackling her and falling on top of her as she continued to pommel him with her fists.
"Come here!" Wedge barked. "She's already knocked some of my teeth loose! Hold her fucking hands!"
With him pushing at her flailing arms and with Lucy pulling at them the two of them managed to pin her down, to draw her arms back over her head, whereupon Lucy pinioned them with her knees, her full weight barely enough to keep the adrenalin-struck girl down. She continued to scream at the both of them. ". . . and got me over here on a ruse just to satisfy chauvinist fantasies. You, Lucretia Slade, are a traitor to the movement! May we never mention your name again! May you drop dead if you ever so much as think Women's Lib! May you . . ."
"Honey, honey, sweetheart," Lucy crooned. "That's not so! None of it! I told you the truth over the phone! Wedge came by after you'd phoned, and I couldn't get him to leave; he didn't believe you were coming until you knocked."
"That's right," Wedge said. "She sent me out the back door and I ducked in here instead, she didn't even know I was here."
"You're lying, both of you!" she said, spitting in Wedge's face and managing to gouge a fingernail into Lucy's calf. Lucy's leg jerked in reflex and again it took the both of them to pin her arm.
"Honey, honey-it wouldn't matter even if I had known. We've agreed to do it in public someday."
"With the sisters! Not the MCP's!"
"With all our supporters, everyone who supports the movement!" Lucy cried.
"Him?"
"Sure, he supports us. He wants me to have tenure."
"So that's why you're bedding him, you're putting out so he'll vote for your tenure? You traitor! You think we need that!" At this, the tearful, breathless girl began squirming again, wiggling her arms.
"What'll we do with her?" Wedge asked.
"I don't know," Lucy said.
Their eyes met, and each recognized in the other a fear of hysteria, a knowledge that there is no rational means of dealing with a fit of hysteria.
"Should I put it to her?" he asked.
It was evident to Lucy that Samantha's squirming beneath the man had aroused him, had kept him aroused, whatever. She shrugged, "If you do, you'd better do a good job of it."
Wedge lay with his belly on top her groin -that was his only way to hold her down and his legs happened to be between hers. Even so, it was only with utmost difficulty that he managed to free his bursting pecker from his fly and position in the vicinity of her cunt, and if her pussy hadn't been all spread out and highly moistened from its recent state of excitement, he would never have entered her. He jabbed four or five times before he lodged his glans in her vagina's entrance, and then, since she was so unused and so tight, further entry was an almost painful, snail's-pace endeavor. He widened her slick channel increment by increment, actually helped now by her squirming as she hollered, "No! No! No!"
"She'll squeeze me to death!" Wedge said, beginning to think that the prospect of bludgeoning his way into her gushing if tight delicacy was an impossible one.
"Stop him!" Samantha cried, having thoughts similar to Wedge's. "He'll rupture me!"
Wedge saw her irises dilate and the next thing he knew she went rigid with fright.
"Maybe ..." Lucy said.
But the man gave an insistent, groaning lunge, and entered her to the hilt with a smack-her mouth went open as if to scream, but her tongue worked in voiceless terror. Jesus but she's a stiff cunt, Wedge thought. He gritted his teeth and decided he had to loosen her up in a hurry . . . when he pulled out he was for a moment afraid he'd pulled her inside-out, her cuntal lining clung to him so tightly, but he banged into her and then banged into her again, giving her several rapid, sharp thrusts; she opened her mouth wider with each one until it finally snapped shut and she bit her tongue.
Able to move with a bit more ease, Wedge took several deep breaths and began to work on her, his movements fluid and easy.
"She likes having her titties sucked," Lucy said. "Maybe you'd better do that. Bite them just a little."
Wedge complied, sucking her handful of flesh on her skinny ribcage almost entirely into his mouth, sucking as her nipple stiffened on the back of his tongue, then nipping at her, Lucy bent and rubbed her own tits onto Samantha's face, her erect nipples rubbing on her eyelids.
Samantha's benumbed twat was beginning to tingle-like having your foot wake up after going to sleep, she thought, no more-but before she would admit it to herself she had begun to find the man's lunges into her stretched vagina half-pleasurable. She tried to shut out the sensation of being filled, plugged, as the massive cock slowly churned her cunt to a lather, but she knew from the start she couldn't shut out his mouthing her breasts-she found it arousing.
Wedge speeded up a bit, his balls beating out a tattoo on her anus. Her cunt felt like a tight rubber washer rolling up and down the length of his prick-a basically slippery ring though, and his cock probed the folded now-quaking delights within her. Samantha quivered, her belly and leg muscles spasming as her pelvis reared up off the floor, reared mightily, lifting his weight more than a foot off the floor, a move the suddenness of which surprised both him and Lucy. They looked at each other, eye-to-eye and in mutual recognition that this was having an effect on the girl.
Each time Wedge arched higher to withdraw a bit, Samantha strained higher to impale herself on his shaft. He held it still, his hips high, and she touched the floor only with her head and shoulders as she slid the tight cunt up and down the length of his cock. Her lips worked as if trying to speak. Her body had been set aflame by this white hot poker. The lining in her skull also burned and her mouth was dry. She knew if she didn't explode soon, she would die.
Lucy now reached with both hands to massage the girl's breasts, squeezing the soft hand-fuls and holding them steady on her ribcage in order to focus on her nipples, rubbing them madly with fingertips, rolling and flicking the sensitized rosebuds without let-up.
Samantha had been moving her pussy around on Wedge's pecker with relative slowness, but she took a deep breath and then another before, with her last ounces of energy, she began rotating her pussy upwards on the impaling shaft with maddened fury, gurgling, "Oh . . . oh . . . yass . . . yass . . . fuck!"
Sensing that this was time, Wedge ram-rodded into her overheated cunt, rotating his hips down on her wide-open groin as he felt the whole throbbing quivering sheath of her cunt go taut again-when he banged, banged, banged, wanting to knock her loose.
He did.
Screaming, "Aiiiiiieeeee!" with her last held-in breath just as he gasped, "Ah, aghhh!" Samantha shuddered convulsively from head to toe as she came, bloated with the spasmodic explosions of Wedge's cock, spurt upon spurt of sperm boiling into her and filling her womb. The shuddering girl somehow managed to hold her convulsing pussy aloft until the last drop of gism had been fired into her before she collapsed. Wedge fell on her in a sweaty heap.
He pulled his half-dwindled pecker out of her lathered channel with a whoosh and rose to his knees. With her head, Lucy motioned him into the other room, and they left the panting, half-conscious girl on the floor.
"Christ," Wedge said, "I'm bruised all over."
"Ah, maybe you deserved it," she said.
"Do you think that did any good?"
"Oh, she had a whale of a climax, but she may resent it."
"What?"
"Me. You. Us. It."
"Mmm. Well do you think you can handle her now?"
"I think it would be better if you left, yes," she said.
"Do you want the number of the insane asylum?"
"That is not appreciated," she said. "She had every right to be traumatized."
"Okay," he said. "Friday morning."
"Jesus," she said. "You'll never forget, will you?"
With Wedge gone, Lucy went back into the bedroom and knelt over the semi-comatose girl. She considered smelling salts or gin, and rejected both. There was no permanent harm, and she needed a few minutes rest herself. Twenty minutes, she took, and then knelt over the girl again. She pulled open an eyelid. The eye stared back. And then Lucy didn't know what hit her.
Samantha yanked her hair, pulling her to the floor with such force that her head bounced. She blanked out for maybe ten seconds and when she came to was utterly out of breath, having been kneed in the solar plexus. She was on her back and aware that Sam was twisting her breast, twisting it around with both hands until it felt like it had turned a full circle on her rib-cage and, struggling for breath, she knew she had to rouse herself, defend herself. She kept telling herself to act as Sam dug five fingers of her one hand harshly into the twisted breast and then lowered her head and began biting. She nipped with her eyeteeth, one little nip of flesh at a time, leaving a blood-blister. She nipped four times, five times in rapid succession as Lucy screamed, and then her teeth reached the areola and the pain was so intense that Lucy was roused to action, winded or no, grabbing Sam's hair and pulling. She pulled with all her might and couldn't budge the little demon. Another nip on her areola.
Pure anguish.
Her hand found the kneeling girl's cunt. Two fingers jammed in, twisted. No effect. Had she been fucked insensible? Just as Sam's wicked eyeteeth reached the tender tip of Lucy's nipple--god, would she bite it off?--Lucy jerked her fingers from her sopping twat and rammed them brutally home just behind, entering her anus to the hilt with one vicious thrust and gouging, scratching her rectal walls with her nails.
"Oyiiii!" Sam screamed, her body shooting forward across Lucy's, and continued to scream, "Oyiii! Oyiii!" as Lucy maintained her bugger-hold and slid her own body out from beneath Sam's, whereupon she planted her knee in the middle of the girl's back and continued to gouge, saying, "Give up? Give up?" as the girl writhed on the floor, face down and rubbing raw her knees and tummy and breasts.
"Yes! Yes!" she finally managed to blurt. "I give up!"
"Christ!" Lucy said, inspecting the five finger-bruises and twice as many little spots blistered red on her mauled throbbing breast.
"Shit!" Sam cried, clutching her crotch and rubbing her anus daintily with her fingertips.
"That's what I have on my fingers," Lucy said, flinging it at her.
Sam left without another word. She called the next day to say, to reiterate that she had never in her life experienced such unfathomable perfidy as Lucy had displayed, that Lucy had betrayed the cause and was not worthy of the support of the Women's Caucus.
Fine, Lucy had said, just shut up. And she hung up the phone.
Samantha called back to say not to worry, that she would shut up, that the movement needed its symbols, its successful women, and that she was sure Lucy's example would give courage to others as long as they did not know to what depths she had sunk; so she would let that remain their little secret, would mention it to no one.
Lucy was immeasurably sad; this made her ultimately sadder than anything that happened with Wedge. The women's movement might die of rifts from within, because of the blindness of their own militancy. Didn't any of them see this? Didn't they? It was the saddest thing she could think of.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On the Monday afternoon before the meeting to decide on her tenure, Lucy sat behind her desk in Hurlburd Hall, staring blankly as she bounced a pencil on its eraser. She was rather cheerful, beneath it all. She bounced the pencil slowly, feeling an implacable calm about to come over her; it would not come until the next day, but already she could feel its approach.
Tomorrow at this time she would be out of this sexual abyss into which she had fallen. She would be free, whether she got tenure or not. She sighed, imagining what it would be like to have, once again, absolute free choice in the channeling of one's own sex drive. This morning, she had sucked Wedge's dreadful cock for the last time ever, because tomorrow he would have no hold on her at all. Neither he nor anyone else would ever be able to make another demand on her.
She expected his phone call any minute now. It was odd how, in the space of a little more than a week he had developed this ritual. A thrice-weekly two-part ritual, beginning with their behaving like a couple of crazed deaf-mutes so early in the morning when she went in, wordlessly, to suck him off, and ending late in the afternoon when he made her bend over her desk so obscenely and dreadfully naked, always giving her the feeling that she was nothing but a blind, chained animal, waiting to be used and incapable of resistance.
The phone rang. She picked it up quickly. "Hello."
"Get ready," he said, and that was all he said, hanging up as soon as he'd said it. But she'd recognized his voice, of course, and she knew just what he meant.
She removed her bhndfold from the back of her top drawer, then stood, feeling giddy and light-headed as she removed her skirt, folded it, laid it out of sight on her chair, and then stepped out of her panties. She rubbed her thighs together and looked down at her high-heeled pumps. Today was the last time in her life she would ever be made to act like a chained animal, so grotesquely exposed and so utterly naked! At least Samantha hadn't bitten her on the behind; how would she look with a dozen little blood-blisters all over her behind? she wondered. She had practiced bending over in front of the mirror at home, curious to know exactly what she was exhibiting, and she had decided that she looked best wearing the high heels. With the high heels her behind jutted a little higher, her legs spread a little wider, and her legs looked slimmer.
She took her position with her feet wide apart and her thighs just touching her desk top. She picked up her blindfold and pulled it over her head, making sure the pads were fitted to her eyes and admitted no light. And then, thinking about the doorway just behind her, a door which would soon open and admit some man whose identity she would never know, she bent over, lying her chest and cheek flat on her desk pad, and reaching out to the far corners of the desk with her arms. In a moment, an anonymous stranger would open the door and see her like this: she could think of nothing more horrible and was thankful that today was the last time she would ever have to do this.
She didn't know how long she would have to wait. Once, when she had most needed time, it had been less than a minute, and the next time it had been ten or fifteen. After the first day she'd been forced to do this, her tendons had been sore, and so she had stretched them for awhile each evening at home. She had gotten so she could remain in this position for thirty minutes and not feel discomfort. It was the most degrading thing she had ever been forced to do; she couldn't even think of anything that compared, in terms of the unthinkably obscene. At home she had set up mirrors so that as she lay-using her kitchen table-she could see precisely what she offered.
There was a reason Wedge had made her stand precisely like this, of course, knowing by now his filthy mind. If one stood with her back humped rather than arced downward, one could quite easily hold her buttocks tightly together, but when you arced your belly down, your buttocks automatically spread, exposing hopelessly the cleft between-and she had cringed when she noted this at home. Likewise, when she swiveled slightly on her high heels and turned her toes in just a bit, the vulva was more exposed; and when you turned your toes in and arced your back, why, you could see (she blushed at the thought) right into the vagina. In this position, the vagina even paged open a bit-there remained no secrets, no mystery. There the human female was, naked to the core of her being and absolutely defenseless-and any minute now, some man, any man, would open the door and see her like that, and then . . .
Her thoughts stopped there. She avoided thinking about the and then; afterwards, she was never absolutely sure what happened to her, it was so dizzying. Her breath quickened as she thought about it. She humped her back for a minute and then re-arced it down, so that her belly almost touched the cold desktop. She twisted her toes in just a little more. She knew to her deep chagrin that the man who opened the door would at once be able to see the very depths of her cunt. Her cunt gaped open, she realized, more than it ever had-she was thankful that this was the last time she would ever be made to do this!
She knew that less than twenty seconds after that man, he, whoever, looked at her, he would place his hands on her naked hips and fuck her like an animal, like a barnyard animal, and this shamed her. She could feel her wetness flow in her pussy, her poor defenseless pussy! The wetness had moistened slickly her vaginal folds, every one of them, and now she felt it begin to gush out, dribbling down past her clitoris and into her muff. She was tired of waiting-she wished she could just stand up and be human again-this was the last time! She trembled with the pleasant knowledge of that.
Her pussy was so unbearably hot! She thought she would faint. She reached behind herself to touch it, reaching around her upthrust buttocks with both hands to touch her aching pussy with the fingertips of both hands. My god! It's like a river! she thought. She caressed it, strumming its outer surface with the soothing cool fingertips of both hands-oh! that felt good! Should she? she wondered. Could she help herself?
She quickly reached around under herself with one hand to thrust three fingers as deeply as possible into her gaping cunt, butting her clitoris with the palm of her hand as she did. She grasped bone, it seemed, and squeezed. She felt her pussy's suction working at her hand. It felt good. It felt . . . well, it felt better than nothing. The fingertips of her other hand continued to fiddle with her cunt's entrance, every few seconds darting up to diddle her anus.
She broke into moans as she fucked herself with her hands, her excitement helpless and racing as she knew she was powerless to stop the onrushing tide . . . what if he came? What if he came now? Well, he would just have to do her again-god knew she was hot enough.
A lonely orgasm overtook her, and the fact that it was her own fingers about which her cunt convulsed while she shivered and trembled, made her feel dismally empty.
Suddenly, she thought to look at her watch. Her eyes bugged open when she saw that it was after five-thirty, that she had been lying like that with her most intimate parts gaping wide to await the casual pleasure of a stranger, and had been doing it for an hour. She was infuriated, but more than that she felt shamed. Quickly, she dressed. She prayed Wedge would not see her leave.
Miss Slade was tenured without a hitch. There was not even too much discussion of it at the meeting. Of course, of the committee of eight, three of them not including Wedge, had had sexual intercourse with her within the past week. When Wedge, awaiting his turn, offered that
Miss Slade was quite nice to have around, in addition to her sterling academic qualifications, those three colleagues were particularly quick to nod in agreement. Each had been, upon entering her office after being told that she wished to see them and would appreciate his coming by, that it was somewhat urgent, each of the men had been startled and then quickly overcome by her quintessential nakedness. Each was a discreet man, not given to drop-your-pants affairs, and, having second-thoughts, each had approached Wedge later, asking, uh, did she really know it was me? Uh, this won't cause any embarrassment? And each had been told to see that she got tenure. And so the matter of her tenure was settled before it ever came to a vote of the committee.
The morning after the tenure meeting was a Wednesday and Wedge arrived at his office a little late-that is, he arrived at his usual eight-thirty rather than an hour earlier as he had been the past two weeks. He shut the door, set his briefcase on the floor beside his desk, and went over to draw the blinds. That was when he heard the knock, an individualized knock which at this point he recognized.
"Come in."
"You're late," she said.
"Oh," he said. "I wasn't expecting you today."
"Well," she said, brightly, "here I am."
"So you are," he said.
He shut the blinds again and took his usual position in his chair. His apparent attitude was one of total indifference. He did not even look up at her. When she did not approach on her knees, however, ready to service him with her mouth, he looked up askance.
"Why don't you fuck me today?" she said.
"You'll have to beg," he said, matter-of-fact-ly, obviously leaving it entirely up to her whether she wished to do so or not.
She was silent for a moment, then, "Please . . ." she said, "please fuck me. I want you to. I ... I lay awake all night wanting to feel your cock in me, in my cunt. My pussy is aching to have you fuck it."
When his face remained immobile, she said, her voice quite hesitant, "Please ... I can't put it any more strongly than that."
"How about your asshole?" he inquired.
"Oh! I want you to fuck my asshole, too! But right now my pussy hurts. Please. You can fuck my ass Friday morning," she said, taking his hand with both of hers as she added, wistfully, "or any other time. I'm going to be around this place quite a while-right down the hall."
Holding his hand now by two fingers, she leaned back against his desk and pulled up her skirt. When she spread her thighs her rich female scent filled the air and Wedge saw that she had come to him panty-less. She had been hot under the whiskers for quite some time, a fact all too obvious because of the salivations of her cunt. Her juice had wet the hairs on either side of the gaping gewgaw and had run down onto her thighs. She pulled his hand up and stuffed his two fingers into her twat's entrance: they were immediately sucked into her hot gaping maw.
She warbled low in her throat and her cunt muscles contracted around his fingers as she worked those twin digits in and out of herself with both hands. Wedge's pecker had begun to strain at his fly and he unzipped with his free hand to ease it out; it thrust up sharply with stark nakedness, rough-hewn and blue-veined. Lucy immediately straddled him and lowered herself, standing quiveringly as she rubbed the giant knob of his organ up and down her gushing slit before she teased it into the tense opening of her vagina. She stood there like that, legs quivering as she nibbled at the head of his shaft with the constricting muscles at the mouth of her cunt, while she pulled her sweater out at the waist, lifted it, and reached into her flimsy bra to free a breast. She lifted it, holding its weight in her palm, jiggling it as she said, "Please suck my tit! You've never once sucked my tit! Please suck it now-just a little!"
She flicked a nipple with her fingernail and it sprang achingly to life in front of his eyes.
He craned his neck, lowering his head, mouth open. She stuffed the end of it into his face and he clamped his jaws shut and began to suck, eyes closing.
Lucy lowered herself onto the hard spike of his massive shaft, impaling herself and reaming out her throbbing cunt with the one brisk lunge which left her shuddering in her first climax, her pussy contracting, rippling maniacally all up and down the length of his cock. She remained poised over him like that with her legs widespread as she ground onto him with her climaxing cunt for almost half an hour, shuddering until her teeth rattled as her orgasms built one on top of the other, her entire cunt constantly in shuddering motion as it rippled over, gripped, and teased the entire length of his erect manhood. She came until she shook from head to foot, her body twitching uncontrollably as her skin deepened in hue about five times, always to a deeper red, and her tongue dropped back into her throat as she gasped for breath, her chest heaving and constantly moaning. When his pent-up orgasm began to fire up into her she clamped down on it to slickly ride the wave upon wave of semen which flowed into her. When she had every drop she collapsed into his arms, her cunt in one final spasm as she murmured and cooed.