When Toby Fetters picked up the phone and dialed, that warm summer evening, she knew what she was doing. She was excited, with a pulsing, daring, tingling, anticipatory excitement, but she knew exactly what she was doing. She always knew what she was doing. They hadn't called her "Unruffled" Fetters, in high school for nothing. "The Cool One," in college. "Miss Unflappable," at work.
She was beginning to think there was no one home, after five rings. Then she heard the receiver lift, and, despite her practiced cool, her heart lifted with it. Not just her heart. She shifted in her chair and crossed her bare tanned legs, to squeeze the pulsing tingle in the warm luxuriant oasis of her moistening crotch.
"Hello," Roy Horlick said, his voice sounding crisp and cheerful. She knew the voice, right away, even though she'd only talked to him that one time, at the party four days before. Crisp and cheerful, the same way he looked. It was one of the reasons she was calling him now. But not the main reason. "Horny" Horlick, one of the girls had called him, after he'd left the party, early, with his date.
"Toby Fetters here," she said, "as they say in England."
"I'll be God damned," he said. "I tried to call you, but the operator wouldn't give me your number."
"It's unlisted."
"Why?"
"I'm starting a new life, in this new apartment, and there are a lot of old acquaintances who should be forgot."
He laughed.
"That Auld Lang Syne stuff is bullshit. For the birds."
"For the birds past menopause," she said. "Anyway, you do remember me." She recrossed her legs and touched her pantied pussy tentatively, with a fingertip. God, she was damp.
"Remember you? How could I forget?"
"Oh, balls. My ass is what you remember."
"That, too."
"That, mostly." She'd seen him looking at her ass, covertly at first, then openly, hungrily. Along with every other straight male at the party. She'd wanted them to look, or she wouldn't have worn those orange stretch pants. They'd been wasted on her fag date, but he'd served his purpose.
"What I called to ask you, is, how do you feel about obscene phone calls?"
"They're all right," he said. "Whatever turns a guy on."
"I don't mean a guy. Obscene calls from a girl."
"I never got any. But I'm all for them."
"You're getting one now."
"Oh?"
"Take your cock out," Toby said, in her huskiest, throatiest voice. "Take your cock out, and I'll start." God, she was excited. She recrossed her legs again.
"I can't," he said, in a strained voice. "I can't even answer you in kind."
"Oh, no," she said, slumping a little in her chair. "Don't tell me you're inhibited?"
"Not at all. Only I've got company."
"A girl?" Damn him, anyway. Horny Horlick.
"No. My nephew."
She brightened immediately. There was hope, anyway. For a little later, maybe. "I can talk to you, then, any way I want to."
"Any way you want to."
She cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear, uncrossed her legs, and slid down and forward in the chair, letting her knees drift apart.
"If you were here..." she said, and stopped a minute to think. "Yes?"
"If you were here, would you like to fuck me?" Not much imagination, she thought, but it was good enough, for openers.
"Sure would." He was sounding crisp and cheerful again. For his nephew's benefit, she was sure.
"You could, if you were here, you know."
"Could what."
"Fuck me."
"Ah, yes," he said.
"When you do come over here, will you fuck me?"
"Sure will. Can't think of anything I'd like better."
"There's only one thing." She was thinking better, now. Had her excitement under control. "What's that?"
"There's something I'd like you to do for me before you fuck me."
"Anything you say." He wasn't sounding crisp and cheerful anymore. She was sure he was sweating. She put the phone on the floor beside the chair, stood up swiftly and removed her pants. When she sat down again and picked up the phone, she could hear his voice, sounding frantic almost, saying, "Hello? Hello?" She smiled, and pulled her short skirt up over the white swell of her lower belly.
"Here's what I'll do," she said into the mouthpiece, her voice even lower, throatier, almost a whisper now. "I'll sit on the edge of my bed, with no pants on."
"Yes?" She could hear his breathing. She slid down in the chair and let her legs come apart, raising her head to look at her pussy lips opening pinkly in their crowning crisp bush of chestnut fur.
"I'll open my legs wide."
"Yes?"
"I'll part the lips of my pussy with my fingers. Open my twat for you. It's very pink and tender and sensitive, and moist. It's moist, right now. I'm looking at it." She was, too. She slid a fingertip across the swelling little eel of her clitoris, wriggling her hips a little in the chair.
"Oh, God," Roy Horlick said, in a frog's croak.
"When I do that, will you kiss my cunt for me?"
"Umm," he moaned.
"Slide your tongue inside and lick the warm, wet slippery parts? The tender little wrinklings of my twat?"
"Oh, God," he croaked again.
"Before you slide your cock inside and fuck me, will you suck my cunt good?"
"Yes."
"Eat my pussy."
"Yes."
"Lick it? Lap it? Gobble my cunt."
"Yes. Yes. Yes."
Abruptly, she took her finger from her slimed pussy and sat up straight. Enough of this torture. She had an idea.
"Has your cock started to swell up?" she asked. "Get stiff?"
"Started to," he groaned.
"Is it all swollen and hard?"
"Couldn't be more so."
"Even if I kissed it? Tickled it underneath with my tongue? Took it all the way in my mouth and sucked it? I'd like to suck your cock, you know."
He didn't say anything. Only groaned.
"How old is your nephew?" Now she was the one who sounded crisp and cheerful.
"Sixteen. Almost seventeen. Why?"
"Old enough," she said. "Do you think he'd like to fuck me?"
She was so excited now, with her new idea, that she was almost trembling. The Cool One, she thought. The Cool One with the hots.
"I'm sure," Roy Horlick said. "But I know he's never.. . "
"A boy virgin?"
"That's what he's told me."
Too good to be true, she thought.
"Bring him over," she said. She listened through a moment's silence.
"Right now?"
"Right now. I'll fuck you both to a fare-thee-well."
"What's your address?" She told him.
"Well be there in ten minutes," he said.
She squeezed her legs tight together as she put the phone back in its cradle.
Two hard cocks, she thought happily. The answer to a parched pussy's prayer.
CHAPTER TWO
For all her inner excitement and eager, horny anticipation, when she put down the phone Toby was all at once completely cool, completely in control. First things first, she told herself. What to wear?
It took her no longer to make up her mind than it took her to get undressed-about six seconds. She took her sexiest garment off a hook in the closet and slipped it on over her head-a very short, very flimsy, very loose flowered opaque reddish African night dress. The billowing loose hem extended down only far enough to barely conceal her pussy if she stood very still and did not lean back. After a moment's consideration, she stepped into a pair of flimsy, translucent, bikini-style white nylon panties. After all, the nephew was only sixteen. She didn't want him coming in his pants before the action started.
She pulled out the wide sofa bed, smoothed the covering blanket, and surveyed the already-neat surroundings of her one-room studio apartment. Give the boys a better look, she thought, and went around the room, turning on all the lamps, once or twice getting a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the wall by the door. She had to smile. Roy Horlick was an ass man, very evidently; but he was in for a bonus. Granted, that her high, ripe, rounded ass was a joy to behold, a delight to touch; she also had mouth-watering legs that had been giving boys hard-ons since her sophomore year in high school.
Which she might still have been, at first glance, with that gamin face and wide innocent eyes and pert bobbing breasts. Nobody would guess she was twenty-six, until he'd looked into those wide wise eyes, heard that throaty, knowing voice.
Her breasts were a delight, all in themselves, and the garment did little to conceal them. It was cut loosely to the waist in front, far down under the arms, so that every time she moved, at least one breast was openly in view, in jiggling profile, from some angle. And even where cloth covered one lively white globe, the puckered pinkness of a nipple peeped through. Most teen-agers are tit-men, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror with satisfaction. These ought to do something for him. Roy's nephew, she realized with amusement, seemed to be more on her mind than Roy "Horny" Horlick himself. Oh, well. Whatever turns you on, as he'd said himself.
She was getting out ice cubes for drinks when the downstairs buzzer rang. She held the button on the wall to let them in, and was waiting with the apartment door ajar when they got to the head of the stairs.
She grinned her greeting to them, held the door wide as they came in, and closed it behind them.
She turned to face them, her hand on the inside doorknob.
Looking at her, with all of her five-foot-three of delectable, ripe, sweepingly-curved warm live flesh on brazen display to his gaze for the first time, Roy Horlick had trouble finding his voice. Toby took him lightly by the elbow and led him to the one easy chair.
He sat down, still speechless, drinking her in thirstily. His nephew just as silently took a precarious, tentative seat on the edge of the opened bed.
"Well," she said, smiling, with one hand perched on one provocative hip, "don't you introduce people?" She looked at the nephew, her smile involuntarily getting wider, warmer.
He was a nice-looking boy, as tall as Roy, but bony and awkward where Roy was lean and smooth-moving. He had a lot of hair, brown hair darker than her own. More hair than his uncle, whose high forehead showed signs of getting higher. She figured Roy for his early thirties, somewhere.
"Toby, this is my nephew Steve. He's as speechless as I am. You're a sight to strike strong men dumb."
"Or bring statues to life," Steve said, almost inaudibly, tearing his eyes away from her to look at the floor.
"Why, thank you," she said, and did an exquisite little barefooted curtsy, letting her hem billow upward, her breasts bob freely, happily, and very noticeably, under the loose light cloth. "Gin and tonic all right for you, Roy? That's what I'm drinking."
"Perfect."
"Same for you, Steve? Or would you rather have a beer."
"I sure could use a beer," Steve said, looking at her out of wide, strained eyes. She felt abruptly, fleetingly, sorry for him, he was trying so hard to look just at her face, not at the rest of her. Well, she'd make it up to him. Soon.
When she'd come back to them with their drinks she sat across from them, on her big hassock, and crossed her legs, and smiled openly at Steve. He couldn't take his eyes away from the lively jiggling of her breasts, in no way concealed by the gaping slash in the upper part of her garment. And she'd given him a good, full view of both lively globes swinging free as she'd bent over and handed him his beer.
"I want you to understand that I'm not trying to embarrass you, Steve, when I ask you some things," she said. "I just want to know, because I used to teach students not much older than you, in college. But I never really got to know any of them, on a personal level, and I'm pretty damn curious."
"Anything you want to ask," Steve said, almost inaudible again, his focus on the stiffening pinkness of her left nipple poking through thin cloth.
"What do you like most about girls?" Toby asked, leaning back and casting a quick glance at
Roy. He was watching her, with a look of patient amusement. Well, she thought, he'd have to be patient. His nephew fascinated her. It was a new experience, for her, having a young boy like this-an innocent one, at that-right here, for the asking.
"I like practically everything about girls," Steve said, his voice stronger now, his eyes on her face. "Only I don't have much experience with them."
"Don't worry," she said, "nature'll take care of that, when the time comes." And the time was coming, a lot sooner than he knew. Or was he beginning to suspect? He was looking surer of himself, every second. "Anyway, what specifically do you like best about girls? About their bodies?"
"I still don't know what you mean."
"Well, to be frank, among men there are those who are tit men, and leg men, and ass men. They have preferences for certain parts of the female anatomy. Your Uncle Roy, for example, is an ass man." She grinned now at Roy, arid he grinned back. Toby got to her feet, put her drink down on the hassock, and stood sideways to the two of them, so her ripe, rounded ass stood out in profile. She raised the hem in back up to her waist, and poked her ass out just a little further.
"like it?" she asked.
"Love it," Roy said. "Come here."
"You just wait. Steve?"
"It's lovely," he said, staring, "just to look at."
Toby's excitement was rising, now, but under control. She was enjoying this; she was in no hurry at all, now.
"Would you like to feel it, as well as look at it."
"Jesus," Roy said, and gulped noisily. She didn't look at him. "Yes," Steve said quietly.
She stepped over and stood sideways in front of him, then, on impulse, reached up to the elastic of her panties and slid them down far enough to bare the smooth white resilient globes of her ass.
"Jesus!" she heard Steve saying, in a choked voice, as she swung the twin ripe delights of her buttocks around toward him. "Jesus!" She felt his hands moving over the velvety resilient contours, lightly at first, then more slowly, pressing and caressing, as if his fingers were tasting the delicious snowy flesh-fruit. Another ass-man in the family, Toby thought, and wriggled slightly, as Steve's finger traced down the intimate crevice between the cheeks, exploring lightly downward.
When the tip of his finger reached tentatively down and under, touching the few stray silken hairs, then the soft tender folds at the very underedge of her cunt, she wriggled again, not angrily, and put one hand on the back of Steve's neck and leaned over to whisper into his ear.
"Later," she breathed. "Let's save my pussy for dessert." A new thought was starting in her mind: make a man of the world of this boy, in one easy lesson-She stepped away from Steve's hands, and stepped out of her pants, in one swift motion. As she straightened she noticed Roy's strained features, the look of agonized hunger for her, in his eyes.
"Be patient," she said, smiling. "We've lots of time for everything you want to do. I want to do things with Steve, first."
"Anything you say," Roy said, and shrugged. "You're worth waiting for."
She sat down again on the big hassock, facing Steve, her gorgeous legs in all their swelling glory pointing toward him, but with the knees primly together.
"Before you see any more of me, Steve," she said. "Don't you think you should take some of those clothes off? It's warm in here."
"It sure is," Steve said, and stood, and was out of his clothes in ten seconds. Except for his shorts. The left leg stood out at a grotesque angle.
"Why, Steve," she said, coyly if huskily. "I do believe you've got a hard-on."
Steve stood where he was, looking at her but not moving.
"Aren't you going to take off your shorts? Don't you want to show me your cock?"
Steve stood stock still, then shook his head, slowly. Embarrassment had taken hold of him, all at once.
Toby let her legs come apart, slowly, as Steve stared. When her legs had come far enough apart so that she felt the lips of her pussy parting, opening the inner pinkness of her twat to the boy's gaze, she looked at him, smiling.
"I'm going to let you put your cock in there, in my soft warm wet pink cunt. I'm going to let you fuck me, Steve. Now can't I please see your cock?"
Without taking his eyes from the pink magnet of her pussy, Steve bent abruptly and stepped out of his shorts. When he straightened, his rigid cock stood out in front of him, in full glory, at a forty-five degree angle above the horizontal.
Toby took a deep, surprised breath and opened her eyes wide. Why, it was magnificent! It was no boy-size cock at all. It was long, thick, pulsing upward, and looked rigid and strong enough to hang a heavy handbag on. But for all its size, for all its very evident rigidity and hardness, there was something different about Steve's stiff, thick cock that started a wave of strange new excitement washing over Toby. And then she knew what it was: his cock looked so young, so tender, with its soft stretched sheath of parchment-thin veined skin around the marble-hard shaft, the glistening taut swollen head, pinkening now, getting darker as she watched, as if ready to explode.
Involuntarily, as her legs spread themselves wider and her pussy began to ooze, Toby's mouth opened, and as it did, she knew why: she wanted to taste that delicious virgin shaft, and was torn between where to taste it first, in her upper or lower mouth. And then, in control again, she remembered her earlier plan. There was time for everything.
Steve was still gazing fixedly at her moist, pinkly pouting cunt.
"Kiss it hello, Steve," she said, quietly.
His eyes flashed to her face. He looked startled.
"What?"
"Kiss my pussy," she said. He didn't move.
"If I lass your cock first, will you?"
He didn't answer. But he was staring at her pussy again, and the tip of his tongue appeared, briefly, as he licked his lips. A very good sign, she thought.
"Come here, Steve." She held her hands up, spread wide apart in a hip-high gesture of welcome. Steve moved woodenly toward her and stood close to her, between her opened knees.
She placed her hands gently on his lean, bony hips, and drew him closer as she leaned forward and down, with her tongue extended. With just the tip of her tongue, she touched the tiny wrinkled gathering of skin just beneath his cock-head, then licked back and forth across his undercook with a quick flurry of her softened skin.
She felt the boy's body go rigid.
"Jesus!" he hissed. "Oh, Jesus!"
She opened her mouth, then, and took in the whole swollen glistening pink head of his cock,, closing her mouth warmly around the shaft, sliding her tongue back and forth across the velvety softness under the neck of his straining prick. Then, resisting the strong urge to begin sucking his delicious young cock in earnest, she drew her mouth away quickly. She knew with certainty, at that instant, that with one deep suck the boy would explode into orgasm. No fucking for this boy, she thought. Not quite yet. She had another little plan in mind.
"Now," she said, looking up at him and smiling moistly, her lips still tasting the tenderness of his cock, "will you lick my pussy?"
Steve looked quickly over at where Roy was sitting-she'd almost forgotten about Roy-looked back hungrily at her pussy, and sank to his knees between her spread thighs.
She leaned back slightly, put her hands under her buttocks, and raised herself minutely, as if presenting her pussy on a platter. Steve needed no further encouragement. He opened his mouth, extended his tongue tentatively to touch one moist peeping fold, then enveloped her whole twat in one deep, sucking kiss.
"Aah," Toby said, and put her hands around Steve's head, gently encouraging him. "That's it, Steve. Kiss it. Suck it. Eat my cunt."
Steve began to lick, suck, gobble her twat as if he'd been starving for it all his life. Toby's hips rose, wriggled, pumped, squirmed, as the eager tongue sent shivers of sensation through her whole cunt-centered being.
But all at once she wanted more, much more; and she knew instinctively that Steve's exploding young cock was not the answer, not yet. But she'd take care of that, in short order.
"Enough, Steve," she said, putting her hand against his forehead and pressing him back. "Stand up again."
Looking at her, wondering, Steve got slowly to his feet, and once more she put her hands behind his hips and drew him closer.
"You can fuck me later," she said, "when you'll last longer. The way you are now, you'd come before you were halfway into my cunt. I'll just suck you off now. Take the edge off."
Steve didn't say anything. He seemed agreeable. She took the swollen-to-bursting, glistening head of his cock into her mouth, then some of the shaft, and started sucking softly, moving her head back and forth like a feeding bird, her lips moist and tender but tight around his rigid shaft, her tongue licking and smothering his undercook. His hips started thrusting forward spasmodically, as if he were fucking her mouth.
After a few long moments of delicious sucking, she realized that Steve was lasting longer than she'd expected. And she felt a hand on her shoulder. She rolled her eyes upward and found herself looking directly at Roy's hard cock, as big and as thick as Steve's but brown in color, seasoned-looking. Business-like, she thought inanely. A veteran cock. And she knew immediately that that's what she wanted, right then, more than anything. A good, solid veteran fucking.
"I can't stand it any more," she heard Roy saying, in a tight voice. "Finish sucking him off on the bed."
She knew right away what he meant. With some kind of natural instinct, so did Steve. He backed to the bed and lay down in the middle of it, and Toby moved with him, never taking her mouth from his cock.
She resumed her sucking on the bed, with her knees apart, her ass invitingly elevated. She felt Roy's weight as he mounted behind her, felt the head of his rigid cock slide to the intimate crevice between the ripe resilient mounds of her ass.
Oh, God, he's going to bugger me, she thought. Fuck me up the ass. She put a hand around behind her to deflect his probing cock, but she'd been wrong. Roy's cock slid down, to the open, moist waiting lips of her cunt, and started to enter the warm welcome there.
But just then, with a shudder, Steve came, trembling, his warm fluid spurting against the roof of her mouth and back into her throat. Feeling behind her, she closed her hand around the base of Roy's cock, stopping its entrance halfway into her cunt, while she swallowed Steve's juices, swallowed again, and kept on sucking, until there was nothing but limp young prick between her lips.
Steve rolled away and stood up, as Toby relinquished her grip on Roy's cock and rolled over, letting it slip from her cunt. But only for a moment.
She lay on her back and spread her legs in joyous abandon, reaching out to guide Roy's great straining cock to her now-ravenous cunt-mouth.
"Now fuck me, Roy," she breathed, losing control completely now, for the first time in months. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."
CHAPTER THREE
Toby took the swollen, glistening-purple head of his cock between her thumb and forefinger and guided it to the wet warm pinkness between her tender parted twat-lips. The thick, hard shaft slid slowly inward, deep into her ravenous, squeezing, gluttonous cunt. God, it felt good, that big, hard dork spreading the slippery softness of her fuck-channel, driving to the depths of her crazed cunt's need. She spread her thighs wider, then hooked her heels inside his knees, levering her tingling twat-mouth tight against the hard base of his in-driven cock.
His face was just above hers, and he was smiling.
"That's it," she breathed. "Hold that beautiful big cock deep in there for a minute, deep in my cunt."
"like this?" he asked, still smiling. He pressed his hips forward, and she felt the bone-hardness of his furred pelvic mound jamming even tighter, making small, exquisitely pleasurable, circular motions against her rapturous, responding pussy-lips.
"Ah, sweet fuck," she moaned, mindless in her craving cunt's pleasure, in the tingling anticipation of the rapture to come. She heard herself almost babbling, in a hoarse urgent whisper. "Ram it home, ream my cunt, fuck me with every thick hard fucking inch of that big fucking cock. Fuck me slow, fuck me deep, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...
Her throat closed on her babbling as she felt Roy's thick cock sliding slowly outward, until only the swollen hard head remained in the squeezing clutch of her inner cunt-lips. She felt his hands come up behind her, holding her shoulders, holding her for the plunge, and she raised her hips, rolling her cunt upwards. He drove his cock slowly, deeply into her again, as her cunt opened and then clutched at the whole length of his stiff surging prick.
Her hips pumped joyously, in perfect timing, as he began to fuck her, deeply, with long, slow, driving strokes. Her slippery soft twat-channel seemed to clutch and suck and hold his sliding shaft on every out-stroke, as if reluctant to let go, then squeezing and' embracing every deepening stroke to her cunt-depths.
Toby's eyes were squeezed shut, as if to close out everything but the rapture in her hard-pumping cunt. She could hear the sound of Roy's deep breathing mingling with her own panting moans. Ah, God. Ah, beautiful. Ah, deep-fuck beautiful. She felt that she was losing her mind to her delirious, pumping cunt, and she didn't care.
She became aware of the soft thumping sounds of her own hips and buttocks against the mattress, and knew that the slow rhythm had picked up, but that she was still fucking with him in a kind of crazed unison. She heard a slapping, sucking sound, too, and knew it came from the wild pounding of his heavy balls in the velvety crevice her greedily pumping ass.
Her own moans were louder, now, becoming gasping little screams, and she knew her fingernails were raking the smooth skin of Roy's back. But she couldn't help herself, couldn't stop, couldn't stop anything she was doing after her long-pent-up need to fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, her mind was saying, in time with cock-plunges into her boiling, pumping, careening cunt. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck like crazy.
The pounding of her hips sounded as frantic as the frenzied struggle of an impaled moth, and then, all at once, her climax was on her, searing, pounding, choking her in a surging crescendo of rapture.
"I'm coming," she almost screamed, her legs suddenly flailing free behind his back. "Deep-fuck me, deep-fuck me, deep-fuck me. NOW."
She felt Roy responding, instantly, as he drove his cock to the roiling depths of her cunt, again and again and again, in a pounding fury of lightning strokes. She felt herself shuddering and jerking convulsively, and all at once his hot juices were spurting into her, gushing deep, flooding her quivering cavern of fuck-joy. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly about him, and just hung on, as he kept his thick log of a cock buried deep inside her, letting the diminishing, squeezing spasms of her deliriously grateful cunt wash around it.
Minutes passed before Toby's pussy-spasms subsided enough for her to let go of him. She lay back limply, then, as he drew his slackening prick out of the tender clutch of her sated cunt, and got to his feet beside the bed. He looked down at her, lying stretched out in the middle of the bed, her legs still apart, her cunt oozing contentment.
"You're wonderful," Roy said softly. "You're just as lovely inside as you are on the outside."
"Why, thank you," she said, smiling up at him.
She felt the weight of a body press down on the edge of the bed on the side away from Roy. She rolled her head that way, lazily. It was Steve. Good God. She'd forgotten all about Steve.
"How about me?" Steve asked, his voice high-pitched and excited. "You promised."
His cock was fully erect again, she saw, with some surprise. And she'd sucked him off, she remembered, only a few minutes before. Five or six minutes, maybe, at the most. Ah, youth, she thought. This was something to be investigated.
"Sure I promised," she said. "And you'll get your turn. But I'm all fucked out, for the moment. Can you wait a little while?"
"I can wait," Steve said, his eyes on the oozing pinkness between her parted pussy lips. "For that, I can wait. I've been waiting all my life."
"You're a good boy, Steve," she said.
She reached out and gave his eager stiff young cock a friendly squeeze.
CHAPTER FOUR
On the way to the bathroom, she looked at her watch. Nine-thirty. The evening was young yet. So was Steve, very evidently. Toby felt wonderful. Relaxed. Lazy. With the whole beautiful fucking evening in front of her.
Thinking of Steve, waiting impatiently in the living room with Roy, she douched, then very delicately perfumed her pussy, from an atomizer of Joy. Joy for me, for Steve, for Roy, she thought. Joy to the world. Maybe she could make a muff-lapping lover out of Steve, on his first lesson. The thought excited her, but in a quiet, lazy way. She had all the time in the world, tonight, for all the fucking and sucking she wanted. It was a good thought, after these last few grim months.
After a moment's hesitation, she put on a short terry-cloth robe and belted it around her, before leaving the bathroom. No sense rushing from one act into the next, she thought. Savor them.
When she walked back into the living room, she saw with amusement that both Roy and Steve had gotten back into their shorts. Same general idea all around, she thought.
"Everybody's formal again," she said, laughing.
"For a while, anyway," Roy said.
"Good. Why don't we all have a drink?"
"I'll make them," Roy said, standing up and picking up the empty glasses and Steve's empty beer can.
"Fine," Toby said, sitting down in an easy chair facing Steve, and crossing her legs casually. "We can be civilized for a while, while I rest up."
"Jesus," Steve said. "You deserve a rest."
"I guess that was quite a sight, for a growing boy," Toby said, smiling at him.
"Sure was."
"Ever see people fucking before."
"Only in the movies. Once."
"Enjoy it?"
"It got me horny, all right. But it was nothing like what I was just watching."
"Why not? What was so different?"
"They were just going through the motions, like they had a job to do. It was just physical, wham, bam, and they got pleasure out of it, sure, but it was all sort of-well, superficial. Phony. But you and Roy-wow."
"Yes," Toby said. "Wow."
Roy came back with the drinks and handed them around before sitting down again. like Steve, he sat facing Toby. She was pleased. He still liked to look at her, even right after that exhausting session in the hay.
"Well," Toby said, "whatll we talk about, while I'm resting?"
"Sex," Roy said. "What else?"
"After what you've just been through?" Toby asked, smiling at him.
"I can still talk about it. I'd like to hear about Steve's sex life."
"Ain't no such," Steve said.
"Don't embarrass him," Toby said.
"It wouldn't embarrass me," Steve said. "Nothing could embarrass me now, with you two people. It's just that I have nothing to tell."
"Nothing?" Toby asked teasingly, raising her eyebrows as she looked over at him.
"I told you," Roy said. "He claims to be a virgin."
"I am, dammit," Steve said. "Don't you have a girl?" Toby asked. "Well, yes," Steve said, looking over at his uncle.
"Lovely girl, Susan," Roy said. "Just Steve's age. She's sixteen."
"I'll be seventeen next week," Steve mumbled. Toby noticed that his hard-on had subsided, in his shorts. Good. She hated to see him suffer, as he'd obviously been suffering while Roy was fucking her. And Toby was confident that Steve's cock would come up again, any time she wanted it to. But not right now. This was nice, sitting here drinking and talking, with all the cock a girl could want just a smile and a crook of a finger away.
"Good-looking guy like you," Toby murmured, sipping her drink and looking at Steve. "Doesn't your girl-Susan?-doesn't Susan want to do anything?"
"You can talk plainer than that," Roy said.
"We can all talk plainer than that," Steve said, looking boldly at his uncle and then at Toby, "after the education you two just gave me."
"Well," Toby said, grinning, "doesn't Susan want you to fuck her?"
"I guess she does, all right, but she won't admit it. Not to me, and not to herself, even."
"Why not?"
"She's afraid, or something."
"Afraid of what?" Toby had taken up the role of questioner. Roy just looked interested. And drank.
"I don't really know. Some stuff her mother's been filling her full of since she was a kid. About if she starts fucking too young it'll spoil it for later, when she's married. Take the meaning out of it. Cheapen the act, or make it meaningless, or some bullshit like that."
"Bullshit is right," Toby said. "I thought that kind of archaic nonsense went out with 78 records."
"Pretty archaic mother Steve has, too," Roy said, draining his drink and standing up to make himself another. "My big sister. My big archaic sister. So Susan's mother isn't unique. Must have been a lot of them, growing up with nutty old-fashioned ideas, in my generation."
"I must have come along right in between," Toby said.
"Between what?" Roy asked, crossing the room with his glass full again.
"Your generation and Steve's."
"How old were you when you started fucking?"
"About eighteen, I guess," Toby said demurely, lowering her eyes. She recrossed her knees, careful to keep her pussy concealed. The conversation was still interesting, to her. She was curious. "Anyway, it was Steve we were talking about, wasn't it?"
"Sure was," Steve said, looking over at Toby with yearning in his eyes now. "And I'm still a virgin, as of this very moment."
But Toby was still curious. Let him learn patience, she thought, along with the other lessons he was going to learn tonight.
"When you and Susan are together," Toby said, "she gets excited sometimes, doesn't she? What they call sexually aroused, I mean."
"Hot as a pistol," Steve said. A little smugly, Toby thought.
"What do you do, when she gets like that?"
"Play with her pussy."
"How?"
"Well," Steve said, looking thoughtfully at Toby, "you really want to know."
"Yes."
"I rub her clitoris, and finger-fuck her, and diddle her clit some more, until she comes."
Toby uncrossed her legs, and squeezed her thighs together. There was a tingling starting in her twat, again.
"What does she do for you."
"She gives me a little hand."
"Jerks you off."
"Yes."
"Does she ever take your cock in her mouth?"
"Well, yes," Steve said, looking over at Toby with something like defiance. "Just lately. She's sucked me off quite a few times."
Toby could feel lust rising in her now, like mercury in a thermometer left out in the sun.
"Don't you ever go down on her?" Toby asked, finishing her drink. Roy started to get up, to fix her a fresh drink, but she shook her head no.' She had other things on her mind, now.
"You mean lick her pussy?" Steve asked, grinning crookedly.
"Yes. Lap her twat, gobble her cunt, whatever you want to call it." Toby was very excited, now. She let her knees come apart slightly, giving Steve a tantalizing glimpse of her perfumed pussy. She saw him lick his lips, just once, and let her knees drift slightly farther apart. Give him a better look at that tender treat.
"I never have," Steve said.
"Why not?"
"I didn't know how," Steve said. "Until tonight."
"Don't you think she'd like it."
"I think she'd love it."
"Sure she would," Toby said. "And she'd love it even more if you gave her a real expert tongue job."
"I'm no expert," Steve said, unable now to take his eyes away from the fur-framed pinkness at the confluence of her soft, discreetly parted thighs.
"You can get to be an expert," Toby said softly, smiling tenderly at him, "in one easy lesson. I'll tell you everything you need to know."
She raised one leg and draped it over the arm of the chair, giving the boy an open view of her parted, pinkly pouting pussy.
"You won't forget what you promised me before?" Steve said, standing. His hard-on poked from the front of his shorts.
"I won't forget. I'll fuck you to a frazzle. Right after your lesson."
"It's a deal," Steve said, in a choked voice.
He slid his shorts to the floor, stepped across the room to her, and dropped to his knees.
CHAPTER FIVE
Toby moved her hips forward in the big easy chair, and raised the leg that wasn't draped over the arm of the chair, lifting the bent knee high and swinging it outward, spreading her feast of flesh even wider to Steve's hungering mouth. Her moist open cunt was even with the edge of the chair's seat-cushion, tilted upward, in the ultimate of warm, inviting welcomes. The boy's open mouth moved unswervingly, but slowly, as if savoring the anticipation of the taste of twat, toward the exquisite moist magnet of her juicy muff.
"Wait, Steve," she said, her eyes on the tongue that was protruding now, only inches from her supremely palatable pussy. "Don't start gobbling it yet. Let me spread it out for you, so you can see what you're doing. It's the only way to learn."
She reached down with both hands, and, with the tips of her fingers, gently spread the soft yielding lips of her cunt, opening and flattening the tender ridges and folds of bright pink inner flesh. Pussy on a platter, she thought inanely. Youth will be served.
"Now," she said, "touch it here, with just the tip of your tongue." With her forefinger, she touched the elusive little eel of her clitoris.
With the stiffened tip of his tongue, Steve touched the swelling bud of her sensation, then ran his tongue up and down, then across, with swift, fluttery strokes.
"Ah, that's it," Toby murmured, feeling her hips starting to wriggle of their own accord, her cunt lifting itself upwards. "Lick my clit, lick it up and down, back and forth. With your whole tongue, now. Aah, that's it." Oohh, it felt so good. A natural-born nookie-nibbler, this boy.
"Now," she said, sounding to herself like an instructor in a college classroom again, "slide your whole tongue in. As deep as it will go. Into my cunt."
Steve did as he was told. She writhed a little more as his tongue plunged deep. Ah, delicious. She took her fingers away from the lips of her cunt, and placed her hands gently behind Steve's head.
"Now suck," she said. "Gobble my cunt. Eat my whole juicy pussy."
But Steve didn't have to be told. His whole mouth covered her cunt now, sucking, licking, kissing. His tongue stabbed deep, then withdrew to diddle her clitoris with fluttering little licks, back and forth, up and down, then slid deep again. His mouth never left the oasis of her bubbling, boiling twat, sucking thirstily, hungrily, as his tongue plunged and delved and explored.
"Ah, Steve," she breathed, through clenched teeth, "you'll-never-learn-any-more-about-sucking-cunt-than you-know-now."
But Steve apparently didn't hear. He was too busy with his frenzied lapping of her pussy. And he was making a lot of noise-wet, sucking, slithering sounds.
Toby put a finger on his forehead, urging his face away from its pleasure between her warm thighs. She was suddenly, urgently in need of a hard, reaming cock.
"Enough of this foolish love-making," she said, looking into the boy's lust-glazed eyes. "Now, right now, let's you and me fuck. Fuck, do you hear me? Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Steve got to his feet and just stood there, looking at her, not sure what to do next. But there was nothing uncertain about his cock. It stood out from his slender body like the sturdy lower branch from the trunk of an oak tree.
Toby stood up and let her short robe, which had been spread wide and forgotten beneath her in the chair, slide from her shoulders to the floor. She saw Steve's eyes focus on her naked, jiggling boobs, and glanced down.
Her nipples, poking out pinkly, contrasted sharply with the soft whiteness of the buoyant globes, like stiff wrinkled pointing fingers. A tit man, too, this boy, she thought. Leg man, ass man, cunt man, and tit man, all rolled into one neat young package. She'd remember that. But right now, there was only one thing to do. The further education of Steve.
"Lie down on the bed, on your back," she said, in an urgent whisper.
"But," Steve said, "I thought you were going to let me fuck you."
"I am," she said, smiling tensely. "We're going to fuck now. My way. I'll fuck you, this first time. Just lie down. Face up. Cock in the air."
Steve did as he was told. But with a look of wonderment on his face.
All at once Toby's need was not so desperately urgent. It was her turn to savor the sight of her pleasure-to-come, and "come" was the word.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and focused her gaze on Steve's upright, eager organ. God, he had a big one, for a boy. A whole lot of lucky, palpitating pussies would welcome that prize of a prick, in the years to come. And she would be the first. A shiver of anticipation ran down her back, puckering her ass-hole.
What she liked most about the look of Steve's cock, she realized, was the tender, unspoiled innocence of it. She leaned over, to look down at it. The swollen-to-bursting head almost glistened, a bright, blushing red, and the opening in its center seemed to be looking at her, like an unwinking eye. She'd had bigger cocks slide into her craving cunt, yes, and into her warm sucking mouth, but never one that looked so irresistibly appealing, so joyously eager and young.
"I love your cock," Toby said, reaching out and squeezing it gently, turning her head sideways to look into Steve's face.
"Well, I love your cunt," he said. "It tastes so delicious I want to find out what it feels like when it swallows my whole cock."
"Swallows is a good word," Toby said. "I want to eat up your big beautiful dork, when I take it into my twat. Devour your cock, in my greedy cunt. And grateful cunt, Steve, don't you forget that."
"Please," Steve groaned. "Please. Can't we fuck now, and talk about it later?"
"One thing you have to learn," Toby said. "A lot of the pleasure of fucking is in the anticipation, in what goes before."
Steve groaned again, but didn't say anything. His hand came up to brush one minutely jiggling boob.
Toby let her hand slip loosely, tantalizingly, down the straining length of Steve's cock. It felt like some land of thick hickory handle, encased in a soft sheath of tender, sensitive, velvety skin. She was being a maddening tease now, she knew. But she was teasing herself even more than she was teasing Steve. Punishment, but a tantalizing kind of punishment that she'd let explode into some frantic fucking, very soon now. And Steve would learn what it was all about. Learn that the waiting was worth it.
"It's like a mouth, you know," she whispered, looking into Steve's strained face, feeling the steady pulse of his swollen undercook against the warm sliding palm of her hand.
"What is like a mouth?" Steve said haltingly, in a tight, choked voice.
"My cunt, Steve," she said, in her husky, insinuating whisper. "My cunt is like a mouth, dear boy, with lips, and a little tongue, and a palate, a very soft palate. My cunt can taste, and lick, and suck, and gobble, and swallow. All in a soft, gentle way, you understand. My cunt is a very nice, warm, loving mouth, to taste and swallow up that delicious young cock of yours."
"For Christ's sake," she heard a voice saying, "go ahead and fuck."
She turned her head. Roy. She'd forgotten all about Roy. She decided to ignore him. This was her party, now, hers and Steve's.
She still had Steve's cock in her hand. She started sliding it up and down, very slowly, moving the soft sheath of skin around the hard shaft. Steve's hand was behind her now, feasting on the soft rounded hills of her ass. She felt a finger sliding into the sensitive crevice between the mounds, and wriggled away.
"Just for a second," she said to Steve, "I want to taste your cock in my mouth again."
She leaned over, opened her moist warm mouth wide, and enveloped the swollen head of his cock, letting her tongue slide underneath to lick back and forth on the wrinkled sensitive shawl of skin just behind and under the blushing, delicious hard head.
"Mmmmmm," Toby moaned, taking Steve's cock deeper into her mouth, sucking it and licking at the same time.
"Aah," Steve breathed. "Oh, Jesus, but that feels wonderful."
"For God's sake," she heard Roy saying, "the boy wants to fuck you. Don't just suck him off again."
Roy was right. The time had come. She didn't want Steve to explode without even getting his cock inside her, for its first taste of cunt.
She took her mouth away from the boy's slippery-wet prick, giving the underside of it one last, loving lick, and sat up, shaking the hair out of her eyes.
"Ready, Steve?" she asked, smiling.
"Holy Christ," the boy said. "What a question!"
Toby climbed up onto the bed and stood erect, astride Steve's hips. She looked down, and with secret delight watched his face as he stared up at the moist pink welcome of her ripely parted pussy. She began to bend her knees, then, and let herself down with tantalizing, deliberate slowness toward Steve's hickory-hard, upward-straining young cock, feeling her twat opening wider as her upper thighs spread and her knees came into contact with the bed.
She reached down to guide the bursting head of Steve's virgin cock to her open, oozing, now-ravenous cunt-mouth, but it was only token guidance. His straining cock, by pure instinct, would have found the safe, warm berth of her cunt in total, stormy darkness. Her twat was a flesh-magnet to the steel in his young cock.
Just before letting her hungering cunt take in the head of Steve's fevered cock, Toby looked down. The rich brown triangle of her pussy-fur was glistening with her wetness, the neat open cleft of her cunt lips showing the delicate, quivering little ridges of soft pink membrane inside. Her whole cunt, she noticed, from the lips inward, seemed a much deeper pink than usual. Steve's busy mouth and tongue, she supposed, had brought up her cunt-color.
She lowered herself a little more, slowly, until the hard swollen head of Steve's thrusting prick touched the open wet outer lips of her cunt.
She lowered herself farther, with exquisitely slow timing, not touching the rigid shaft with her hand now, the need for even token guidance gone now, until the whole exploring young head of his straining cock was enveloped in the slavishly warm wet welcome of her cunt-entrance. Then, inch by deHcious inch, she lowered herself on the eager, thrusting young shaft, feeling the stiff young rod of joyously probing muscle sliding easily up inside her, spreading her slippery, tingling cunt walls, until it was all the way up, deep inside her, and her cunt was pressed hard against his up-thrust pelvic mound.
She raised herself slowly, then, feeling her cunt sucking greedily at Steve's rigid shaft, and when her inner cunt lips were at the sensitive neck of his cock, just below the head, she squeezed, contracting her cunt muscles, once, twice, and again.
"Holy good Jesus Christ!" Steve whispered hoarsely. "Now I know what heaven means."
The boy's eyes were squeezed shut, and he started to raise his hips, to arch his cock deeper into the incredible, soft, smothering delicacy of her ecstasy-giving, expert cunt.
"Lie still, Steve," Toby said. "This time, let me do most of the work."
She let her cunt slide down his shaft once more, so the hard knob of his prick-head was deep up inside her again. Then she began to fuck him, ever so slowly, lifting her wetly clutching cunt up and away from his body deliberately, tantalizingly; her twat-lips clung firmly around his shaft like the lips of a mouth, sucking. Then, when her cunt was up around the neck of his cock, she'd lower herself again, slowly, until he was fully imbedded. God, it felt wonderful to her, that stiff, alive, rock-hard young cock up inside her. Delicious was the word for it; she could almost taste it.
She had to smile. She was supposed to be doing this for him.
Toby kept it up for a long time, sliding up and down slowly, tasting every inch of the strong young shaft, and there were plenty of inches to taste. Every once in a while she stopped her sliding, up-and-down fuck trips to squeeze his cock with practiced little contractions of her inner cunt lips.
Despite her sucking him off earlier, she had expected him to explode into orgasm fairly soon, but he seemed to have a remarkable amount of control, especially if this was really his first real fuck. But he seemed to have reached some kind of plateau of ecstasy. His eyes, she noticed, were half-closed, as if he were about to drop off to dreamland. And, at the same time, Toby's twat sent her a message: some of the hard swelling was diminishing, the boy's cock was losing some rigid-ity.
Swiftly, Toby wetted the middle finger of her right hand in her mouth, and reached down behind her. She probed beneath the soft heavy sac of Steve's full, firm testicles, found the puckered entrance between the cheeks of his ass, and pushed. Her finger slid past only token resistance up into his ass-hole, to the middle joint.
Steve's eyes popped open, and his hips arched in surprise. Toby felt his cock swell, stiffen, and become hard as granite again in her slippery cunt-grasp.
"Now, Steve?" she said. "Ready for the finale?"
Steve only grunted, and looked at her, and grinned. His cock was in her to the hilt.
She slid her finger deeper into his ass-hole and began working it in and out, all the while sliding up and down his shaft, faster and faster. Steve had learned fast; his hips arched upward as he pumped his long sturdy young cock up into her, meeting her every descent.
Impaled as she was on that superb young javelin of muscle, Toby still had the feeling of being in complete control, as if the eager, super-willing cock pounding up into her, fucking her into a joyous jelly inside, were her very own toy, to play with, to pleasure herself with. Steve's cock, Steve's instrument, became her instrument, the bow to draw across the strings of her rapturous violin of a cunt. She was making beautiful music inside herself, sliding up and down in a rhythm of her own making. The hickory-hard head of his cock became a drum thumper, beating on the tom-tom of her vibrating cunt-depths.
Toby had a whole symphony going as she slid up and down, fucking with a frenzy on the stiff slippery shaft of Steve's brave young cock; but gradually her selfish vertical fucking took on a jazz rhythm, her finger working in and out of his ass-hole on the offbeat.
Then, all of a sudden, Roy was sitting naked on the edge of the bed. With an unmistakable hard-on, and an unmistakable need; and an unmistakable understanding that Toby wouldn't let him down.
She didn't. Without hesitating, and without pausing in her frenzied fucking and finger-reaming of Steve's ass-hole, she leaned over, opened her mouth wide, and began expertly to suck Roy's thick, veined, brown cock.
"You're a good girl," Roy said, leaning back and fucking her soft busy mouth with short, gentle strokes.
Being careful to keep up her lively sucking of Roy's cock, Toby began to ride her hips back and forth as well as up and down, giving Steve's pumping shaft a furious fucking; but he was game, and his hips kept pumping his cock frantically up into her, as if asking for more. Her lively, sliding clitoris ground against the hard mound at the base of his cock with every squirming thrust. Her inner cunt lips were squeezing, contracting spasmodically, clutching the slippery, sliding shaft. Then a shudder passed through her, from the inside out, and she heard a quivering groan starting deep in her throat, muffled only by the deep gag of Roy's probing cock.
She could hear Steve moaning, too, and her private symphony was at a crescendo, exploding in a climax of roaring sound and rapturous sensation. Her hips squirming, her cunt in a delirium, she was coming, and coming, and coming, in the best orgasm she'd felt in a long time.
Her cunt muscles kept tightening and loosening, squeezing spasmodically; her climax went on in a sort of clenching delirium, in waves, over and over. She heard herself groaning and moaning in her private agony of delight, but she couldn't help herself, and she didn't care. Without thinking, just automatically, she kept up her practiced, expert sucking of Roy's cock.
And then she was intimately aware of Steve jetting juices gushing up into her, immersing some of her inner fires, and a moment later Roy was coming, spurting into the back of her throat. Toby swallowed, and swallowed again, feeling that her cunt was doing pretty much the same thing with Steve's copious gushings.
Toby slid sideways, at last, letting Roy's slackening pecker fall from her lips, feeling Steve's now-limber limb slide from her sated cunt. Reluctantly, it seemed to her, tired as she was. She hoped, but dimly and feebly, that it was reluctantly.
She lay on her back, her legs apart, her cunt oozing sperm and contentment, arid looked wearily up at both of them, where they were standing, suddenly silent and awkward, at the side of the pulled-down bed.
"Well," she said softly, smiling wanly at Steve, "what do you think of fucking?"
Steve smiled, but his eyes were more than smiling. They glowed, in a kind of wonderment.
"I can't believe it," he said. "And you. I can't believe that anyone can be as wonderful as you."
"Flatterer," she said, dropping her eyes demurely and covering her cunt with her hand.
"I mean it," Steve said. "You're much too good for a growing boy."
"You grew up very fast. I have to tell you, Steve, you're a man now."
"Man or boy," Steve said, serious all at once, "I'll never be able to get enough of it, from now on."
"There's always tomorrow," Roy said, twirling a lone small ice cube around in his empty glass.
"Tomorrow?" Toby said, sitting up. "There's a lot left of tonight."
Roy grinned at her, in open admiration.
"You're a brave girl, Toby."
"No. Just a very healthy, very horny girl."
"No," Roy said, not smiling now. "Just a very bright and honest girl. Frank. Forthright. Generous. And very, very lovely."
"Amen," Steve said.
"Gee, fellas," Toby said, and stood up. "How about a drink?"
It was almost two in the morning by the time they put their clothes on to leave. Roy said he was dead beat, and looked it, although he'd fucked her only once more after she'd sucked him off.
Steve, that miraculous young man, had fucked her three more times, each one seeming better than the last, if that was possible. And he didn't look tired at all, as he and his uncle stood by the door, trying to find a graceful way to say goodnight. Or goodbye.
Toby knew it wasn't goodbye, for Steve, anyway. She'd written him a little note, and slipped it into his pocket while Roy was in the bathroom.
"Read it when you get home," she'd whispered. "I hope to see you again."
"Wild horses couldn't keep..." Steve had started to say, but Roy had emerged from the bathroom.
"Well," Toby said, as she worked to open the eccentric door latch, "it was nice of you both to come."
She hadn't meant to use that phrase, but they all had to laugh. God, how corny can you get, at this tired hour of the morning? In mutual weariness, she thought wanly, any damn fool little thing seems funny.
"Will I be seeing you again?" Roy asked, when she had the door open. He was ignoring his nephew, almost pointedly, with the question.
"I hope so," she said, with almost formal politeness. "Call me either here or at the office. I've told you where I work."
"When I was a little kid," Steve said, looking very awkward and very young now, standing by the open door, "every time we went to another lad's party, what they always gave us for dinner was fricasseed chicken. And peas. When I left, I had a standard thing to say to the hostess. Thank you, I'd say, for the chicken, peas and rice." Toby couldn't help noticing how brown his eyes were. He was looking at her very earnestly.
"That was very nice of you," she said, feeling vaguely uneasy.
"So," he said, "what can I say now? Thank you, for the chicken, peas, and rice."
She squeezed his hand. What could she say?
They each bent and kissed her on the cheek, in turn, before she closed the door behind them.
CHAPTER SIX
Roy called her at the office the next afternoon, a Monday. She'd been hoping that if he did call, it would be later in the week, after she'd had a chance to lay plans. She had some very special plans to lay.
"How about having dinner with me tomorrow night?" Roy asked. He was giving himself one full day's rest, she thought, smiling to herself.
"Sorry, Roy. Can't tomorrow night. And the couple of nights after that are sort of up in the air."
"All right. I'll call you later in the week."
"Good."
Well. That had been painless. She wasn't about to go out with Roy on Tuesday night, because she wanted to be home by the phone. Because of her hasty little note to Steve.
"Dear Steve," she'd written, "Please call me at home Tuesday evening. 639-4298. And don't mention this to your uncle. Or to anyone, for that matter. Let's keep this just between you and me."
But she'd wanted to give him something to think about, to make him want to call. And she couldn't think of a better way than to write something that might, just possibly, give him a hard-on when he read the note, at home.
"As you must know, Steve, I like you a lot. And I love your beautiful hard young cock, love the way it keeps stiffening up again so quickly, and coming back for more. So I have something very special in mind for us, for you, and that lovely hard prick of yours. I'm keeping my pussy primed for it, all tender and soft and warm and juicy. Ready for you. Anytime, after you call Tuesday.
Yours for more generation-gap fucking, Toby."
She was pretty confident, about what the note would do to Steve. And she was sure he'd call Tuesday, but found herself thinking about it, much more than she'd anticipated. Before Monday was halfway over, she was sorry she hadn't told Steve to call that night. But there were some old friends she had to have dinner with, that night. She'd just have to be patient. After all, she was a big girl now. Steve was the sixteen-year-old. With the hard-on.
When Steve finally did call, on Tuesday evening, it was so late that Toby had almost given up. And not easily. She couldn't remember ever being so eager to hear a phone ring, even as a teen-ager. Toby picked up the receiver halfway through the first ring.
"I'm here," she said.
"Toby?" Steve sounded younger on the phone than he looked in the flesh.
"Sure is. I'd almost given up on you. I was composing an ad to put in one of the Lonely Hearts columns of the swingers' magazines."
"I couldn't get any privacy with the phone earlier. I've been trapped all evening with my parents. They've finally gone to their room to watch the eleven o'clock news, or whatever they do after they retire for the night."
"Now, Steve," Toby said.
"They can be an awful pain in the ass, parents," Steve said.
"I think I can remember."
"Anyway. When can I see you?"
"That depends," Toby said. "I've been having a lot of wild ideas, the last couple of days. I've been doing a lot of constructive thinking."
"About me?" Steve asked, not sounding so young anymore.
"Mostly about you. All my thinking started with you, anyway." Which was perfectly true, Toby realized, surprised at herself. The Cool One, who could Take Men or Leave Tim Alone, all in a flap about a teen-age boy.
"What's that mean?" Steve said, sounding confused.
"Well, to begin with, I'd like very much for you to come down here tomorrow evening."
"Sure," Steve said. He didn't quite say "Oh, boy" or "Hot shit!" but he sounded as if he had.
"And I've been wondering," Toby said, wondering now about the best way to phrase what she had to say, "have you any friends you'd like to bring along?"
He was silent for a long moment.
"I don't quite know what you mean," he said, finally.
"Well," she said, "you know I used to be a college instructor."
"No, I didn't."
"Well, I was. For three years. And I guess what it amounts to is, once a teacher, always a teacher."
"I'm still not sure..." Steve said, his voice trailing off.
"You thought I was a pretty good teacher the other night, didn't you?"
"Jesus," Steve said. "Don't put me on."
"And I enjoyed it as much as you did. So I've been wondering. Maybe you have a few young friends who'd like to take some of the lessons you took, the other night."
"I think I'm beginning to see," Steve said, and all at once his voice was trembling. "You mean we'd have sort of an orgy."
"In a polite sort of way, yes," Toby said. "If you want to call it that. Do you know any boys who might enjoy a little friendly fucking with me?"
"I'll ask around," Steve said, finally. He had his voice under control.
"You won't mind sharing?" Toby asked.
"No." He paused again. "It ought to be great. But you won't neglect me?"
"You're my love," Toby said, almost meaning it.
"I'll be down there around eight," Steve said. "And I probably won't be alone."
"Good," Toby said. "I'll be waiting for you. You know what?"
"What?"
"My pussy's panting for you already," she said softly, and hung up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
For Toby, the next day was a very long day at the office. One of the longest she could remember. But five o'clock came, at last, and she was one of the first into the elevator. She treated herself to a cab ride home.
The phone was ringing as she came through the door to her apartment. Oh, God, she thought. Something's come up. Of course something's come up. But he can't come over tonight.
It was Steve, all right.
"Listen," he said, "I can only talk for a second." 'Then talk," she said.
"It's my friends," he said. "They want to and they don't want to."
"What's that supposed to mean."
"Well, they're kind of scared."
"Of me?"
'They don't even know you. Of course not. But the whole idea."
"Well, Jesus. What'd you pick, nothing but vestal virgins?"
"No, they're not virgins. At least, they claim they're not virgins. But they'll be kind of-well, shy, at first anyway."
"Oh, is that all," Toby said, relieved.
"They'll be all right, once we break the ice. But be kind of gradual with them, you know? So they don't panic."
"I think I know what you mean," Toby said, smiling. "I think I know exactly what you mean. I'll be very polite and proper, to start off. Then I'll just sort of tease around, for a while."
"Beautiful," Steve said. He hung up.
She'd forgotten to ask him how many friends he was bringing, she realized as she put the receiver back in its cradle. Well, what difference did it make, anyway? The more the merrier.
After she fixed herself some dinner and had eaten and killed all the time she could washing the dishes and straightening the place up, she started debating with herself about what to wear. She couldn't very well open the door for them stark naked, which is what she'd like to have done, but it might scare the shy ones out of their wits. Or out of their hard-ons, which was worse. But she didn't want to greet them in something as sexless as a long housedress, either. It might take their mind off sex completely, and it would be that much harder to break the ice later. Break the ice. That was Steve's phrase, she remembered. Well, he didn't have to worry. She'd find a way.
She slipped into a white summer minidress that was so short her pussy would have been exposed every time she moved if she hadn't worn pants. She put on white ones, the briefest and sheerest she had. Her pussy showed through, but only as a dark shadow. No bra, of course. Her boobs bounced and jiggled freely, but the nipples showed through only faintly. She stepped into a pair of high-heeled mules, and she was ready.
She had just sat down to wait when the downstairs buzzer rang.
After Steve's warning on the phone, his friends were a surprise to her. They looked young, God knows, as they filed through the door she held open for them, but they went through the confusing ritual of introductions without a trace of shyness or awkwardness. Maybe her all-American, girl-next-door look in that summer dress had something to do with it, she thought. Maybe I remind them of their goddam sisters. Ho. Some sister.
There were three of them. Somehow she'd been expecting two, but three was even better. They looked young enough and tender enough to eat. Which wasn't a bad thought. Her mouth watered. Not only her mouth. What she had before her, she thought, was a feast of young male flesh. A smorgasbord, if you happened to feel Scandinavian.
Steve's friend Tommy Weems was thin and brown-haired, smiling and cheerful-looking and completely at ease; he looked enough like Steve to be his brother. Sam Romberg was a muscular, stocky blond boy. Kevin Walsh was a tall redhead, who looked a little older than the other boys, almost old enough to be legal, Toby thought. They were all old enough to drink beer. Old enough to like to drink beer, anyway.
When they all had cans of beer in their hands and she had a Scotch and water in hers, they settled around the room, two on the convertible couch, which she hadn't pulled out to make into a bed, on account of Steve's warning, one in one easy chair, and one perched on the big hassock.
She sat in the other easy chair, and crossed her legs. There was no inconspicuous way to cross her legs, and the boys all stared, hungrily, at all that luscious curvature of bare tanned flesh.
"Well," she said, raising her glass in a toast, "to education."
They all looked mystified, but sipped their beer anyway.
"When you told me once a teacher, always a teacher, you weren't being serious, were you?" Steve asked. He looked a little worried.
She laughed.
"When I said, 'to education,' I didn't mean higher education," she said.
"To lower education, then," Steve said.
"Exactly. Lower education. Or low-down learning. There's nothing like it."
"You can say that again," Steve said, unable to wrench his eyes from the ripeness of her legs. She re-crossed them, slowly, putting them on abundant display. Four pairs of eyes watched them, hungrily. And she'd thought that all teen-agers were tit men.
But in that dress, of course, she wasn't giving the tit men much to see. She could do much better. And maybe it would help to break the ice.
"It's a warm night," she said, standing suddenly. "And I'm going to get into something a little less formal. Then maybe you'll all get a little less formal." She looked at their faces, meaningfully, and found what she'd hoped for. A little confusion, a little Christmas-eve expectation, and a lot of raw young lust.
What was keeping them so polite, she realized, was that they didn't quite believe whatever Steve had told them. Seeing her in the flesh, they'd probably found her to be too much to believe. Too much, for any horny but hesitant growing boys, no matter what Steve had said. They were probably inclined to think, seeing her in the flesh, that Steve had been just fantasizing. Boast-fantasizing.
Well, she'd straighten them out, and up, quick enough. She smiled at them before turning to sway and jiggle her way to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she shucked her dress and panties, lifted her short, loose, most-revealing-of-all hard-on provoker from its handy hook behind the door, and slipped it on.
The loose flared hem swung and flipped at the approximate level of her now-unencumbered, living, breathing, pinkly-pouting pussy. Her boobs bobbed and jiggled freely, too, in the deep-cut, diaphanous looseness of the garment that inevitably showed far more than it hid. Anything it hid, it hid only fleetingly, as if by accident.
Make their mouths water, the tit men in the group, she thought. She opened the door and pranced buoyantly out into the middle of the room.
Four sets of eyes opened wide. Four mouths dropped slightly open.
She stepped over to her chair, keeping herself in profile to the boys. But before sitting down, she faced them, bending forward and letting her breasts swing free and full and jiggling, on open display inside the falling-away front of the gown. When she sat, she crossed her legs in the same motion, so none of them got enough of a look to know that she wasn't wearing pants. A hint,, maybe, a shadow of pussy-fur, but only a peek at best. They couldn't be sure. Yet.
But they were turning into believers of Steve. There was a touch of perspiration visible on a couple of smooth young foreheads.
"Well," she said. "like this informal gown a little better?"
"Jesus," the tall redhead said, gulping. Kevin, his name was. She'd have to try to keep their names straight. "Jesus, come into focus."
"You can talk plainer than that," she said, smiling. She turned to Steve. "Can't he, Steve?"
"Sure he can," Steve said, "and so can you, now."
"It'll be all right, now," Steve said. He seemed to be reassuring her. The thought amused her. The tease in her rose to the surface.
"Well, group," she said. "You don't think there's anything unseemly about saying what's on our minds?"
"No," Kevin said. "I don't."
"You have nothing against hearing four-letter words, and using them yourselves, when the occasion calls for them?"
"No," the blond boy said. Sam.
"Shit, no," Steve's look-alike said, grinning. Tommy. She had all their names straight.
"Well, then," she said. "What were you thinking, just now, Kevin?"
"I was thinking you're the most gorgeous-looking girl I've ever seen, in the flesh," Kevin said.
"Thank you. That's all you were thinking?"
"Well." He hesitated, but only for a second. "I was thinking that I'd give anything to go to bed with you."
"That's very flattering," she said, looking at him without smiling now. "But can't you talk plainer than that?"
"What I want more than anything, right now," he said, not hesitating at all this time, "is to fuck you."
"Well," she said, leaning back in the easy chair and swinging her slippered front foot, "now we're getting somewhere."
CHAPTER EIGHT
She re-crossed her legs, very slowly and deliberately, letting her thighs swing open, giving them all a clear, unmistakable look at her obviously available, uncovered cunt.
"Now that you've all gotten a glimpse of what you're going to be getting into," she said, smiling demurely at the flustered group, "don't you think you all ought to get out of your clothes? After all, when we were all kids, and played doctor and nurse, the game used to be, you show me yours, I'll show you mine.'"
They were all on their feet, getting out of shirts and trousers.
"When it comes to breaking the ice at a party," she said, to no one in particular, "there's nothing like giving the boys a little peek at a pussy, is there?"
"At your pussy," Kevin said, sitting down again on the couch. He was wearing only his shorts. "It's beautiful."
"Delicious," Steve said, and flushed when she looked at him, smiling.
"You think my pussy looks good enough to eat, Kevin?" she asked the redheaded boy.
"Sure does," he said, boldly.
The others were all sitting again, all wearing their shorts. Modest. Well, that was easily fixed. She was getting beautifully aroused, with all that vibrant young male flesh ranged out in front of her.
She uncrossed her legs and stood up suddenly, then pirouetted once, slowly, letting the short loose gown raise and swirl up around her hips and ass, showing them all a slow-motion flash of dark fur and moistening, duskily-pink cunt. She was aware of Steve's tense features as he leaned forward in his chair.
She crossed the room and sat up on the edge of her wide, sturdy table, facing them. Then she leaned back, supporting herself on her elbows, and raised her knees and waved them lazily, opening her thighs, giving them a better look at what they'd all be getting their cocks into. They were all standing now, still wearing their shorts, but the shorts were all poked out grotesquely, along one leg. The left leg, she noticed, every one of them.
"Since every one of you has a hard-on," she said softly, "Why don't you get out of your shorts? You should at least let me feast my eyes on those fine young hard cocks. I'm going to fuck you all, you know, before the evening's over, if you want to fuck me." They were trembling in their excitement, she noticed, as they bent to strip off their encumbering shorts. She was almost as excited as they were. Or maybe four times as excited, she thought, as the four stiff young cocks popped into view. "Every one of those beautiful stiff cocks is going to slide into my nice, warm, wet, ever-lovin' cunt, you know. We can aahh-fuck, oohh-fuck, ee-fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck till the sun comes up." She was whispering hoarsely, her thighs wide apart, her glistening pink cunt on open display.
Their cocks were standing out, stiff and quivering, in varying sizes, at varying angles. She wondered if her cunt was visibly drooling for them, the way she felt.
"You said something about my pussy looking good enough to eat, Kevin?" she said, in a tight, squeezed voice. "Would you like to taste my twat, Kevin? Kiss my cunt? Lick it a little, just for openers? I'll suck your cock for you, later, if you like. I'll suck all your cocks."
Kevin stepped over toward her, drew up a straight chair, and dipped his head between her open welcoming thighs. She felt the tip of his tongue touch the squirming pink tenderness between her parted pussy lips, then his whole mouth covered her cunt, in a deep, sucking kiss.
"Ooohh," she breathed. "Suck it. Suck my cunt," She squeezed his head softly, warmly, smotheringly, between her smooth velvety thighs.
She was dimly aware of the other boys ranged in a semicircle around Kevin and the edge of the table, all trembling with lust and impatience. They were watching Kevin's head bobbing, his tongue licking, eagerly, swiftly, with long, firm strokes, between the pink open lips of her cunt, and she noticed that the boys were moving their tongues involuntarily between their lips, in sympathetic accord with Kevin's. It was a good sign, she thought. She had a good, eager class of natural-born cunt lappers here, for any stray moments when they happened to be too tired to fuck her.
Ah, it felt beautiful, that mouth on her cunt. But she opened her legs, releasing Kevin's ears from her thighs' embrace, and touched him on the forehead.
"You're being selfish, Kevin," she said, laughing in the sheer joy of her cock-plenty. "Aren't you going to give the other boys a lick of your ice cream cone? Or I should say, your ice cream cunt?"
Kevin sat back, his wet mouth gleaming, then got up out of the chair. The blond boy, Sam, took his place, not wasting a second.
"You might think I've never done this before," he said, and leaned forward. They were the only words he spoke for quite a while.
He was very good at what he was doing, Toby noticed, right away. He was a practiced and dedicated licker of little teenage slits, evidently. He reached his arms up around the outside of her thighs, and with his fingers, carefully and lovingly, he spread the outer lips of her cunt, exposing the soft, moist, pink little hills and valleys of yearning, responding tender membrane.
When he began to lick he did it with feathery strokes, at first, keeping his tongue soft. Then, gradually, he stiffened his tongue and increased the pressure, paying special attention to the stiffened little bud of her swollen, ecstasy-magnifying clitoris.
The tingling delight Toby felt was almost unbearable, but she wanted it to go on forever, and by force of will, she kept herself from building toward a climax. Her hips were thrusting, writhing, pushing her cunt with delirious gratitude up and against the pressure of the boy's thirsty, sucking, gobbling mouth and frantically probing, flailing tongue. She noticed that her legs, in the air behind Sam's head, never stopped waving, as a sort of signal acknowledging her utterly abandoned joy.
But she was urgently, increasingly aware of wanting something more, something more deeply satisfying, in the ravenous cavern of her celebrating cunt.
"That's enough of this foolish foreplay, Sam," she whispered, trying to sound throatily, sensuously amused, but sounding, she was sure, as shiveringly eager as the boys all looked, with their open moist lips and jutting, lost-looking stiff cocks. "Let's fuck. Let's all fuck. Pull out the bed, somebody. We need a playpen, an ever-lovin' playpen, in this fucking nursery."
The convertible couch was out from the wall, wide and inviting, almost before the words were out of her mouth. If the lust-crazed candor of her language shocked them, she thought, it hadn't diminished the hardness of their jutting, up-pulsing proud pricks.
Except for Sam's. When he took his mouth from the moist morass of her invisibly-steaming cunt, reluctantly, his tongue lingering for one last loving lick, she noticed that his cock had subsided to a semi-erect state, about halfway up, as if his desire had transferred itself partially to his tongue.
As Toby slid from the table and stood up, she noted with some surprise that she was still wearing her high-heeled pumps. She drew the hem of her short, loose translucent gown up and over her head, and dropped it to the floor.
She heard the intake of breaths all around her, and focused her gaze, with excited and curious amusement, on the now-familiar, fond face of Steve. He wore an expression of almost proprietary pride, but his eyes, like the eyes of the other boys, were drinking in the sight of her, from her softly smiling moist lips, down past her pouting, gently jiggling, tensely-nippled breasts, along the ripe curving whiteness of her belly and hips, past the glistening crisp brown luxuriance of her mound, the blossoming pink delicacy of her cunt, down the magnificent, luscious swell of her thighs, the in-curving neatness of her perfect knees, to the throat-catching glory of her lower legs.
She kicked off her pumps, walked over and sat on the side of the bed, and looked from side to side at the array of hard-ons on a level with her eyes. Sam's cock, she noticed, had swelled to a fully erect state again.
"Now," she murmured, as if to herself, surveying that feast of stiff young cocks. "Who to fuck first? Eenie, meenie, minie..." Her eyes stopped at the scarlet, swollen tip of Tommy's slender, rigid rod. It looked ready to explode. It was the smallest cock in the room, not that it was small, by any standards. But not one of the boys, she'd noticed, had been short-changed in the dork department. However, there was a delicacy, an innocence, about Tommy's young prick that made it seem smaller than the others. More deserving. And it stood out from his lean body with a rigidity and stiffness that made her think that she could hang things on it. Heavy things. Well. A good place to start her fuck-feast.
"Tommy," she asked softly, "would you like to be the first to fuck me tonight?"
"Honored," he said, in a choked voice, but he didn't move.
She reached out and drew him toward her, with her hands on his bony hips. Then, smiling up at him, she took his straining member into her mouth, wetting the taut swollen head, letting her tongue slide gently along the lower length of it. Then she took her mouth away and looked up at him again.
"Ready to fuck me, Tommy?" she whispered. "I'm ready. My cunt is ready for your cock, right now." The excitement of Kevin's tongue was still down there where it counted, keeping her twat-mouth moist and lubricated.
Tommy didn't answer, but got on his knees on the bed as she lay back and spread her legs. She reached out to guide the swollen-to-bursting head of his slim ramrod of a cock to her hungering cunt-mouth, but he didn't need any help or guidance. His cock slid into the delicious tender squeezing of her welcoming cunt, in one eager, trembling thrust.
"That's it, Tommy," she breathed into his ear. "Fuck me with your beautiful stiff cock. Let's fuck, fuck, fuck."
But he was too eager, Toby knew at once, much too eager. He was breathing fast, almost panting, and his pumping thrusts into her came much faster than his breath. There was no way to slow him down, at least not just by trying to slow the beat with her own hips.
"Easy, Tommy," she said. "Slow, slow. Fuck me deep, but fuck me slow."
But he didn't appear to hear her, or if he did, he just couldn't control himself. Delirious, Toby thought, out of his mind with joy. There was something endearing about his puppy-like pumping. It must be his very first fuck, Toby thought. Oh, well. Make the best of it.
She wrapped her legs around his hollowed, frantic buttocks, clung to him with her arms, and let him fuck away, pounding, trembling, groaning. She raised her hips lazily to meet every third or fourth thrust of his wetly shuttling cock. Crazed cock, she thought, thrusting her cunt upwards slowly, automatically. He wasn't aware that any other part of his body existed. Only his ecstatic, rapturous, supreme, pumping prick.
There was something contagious in his uncontrolled excitement, and gradually she found that her hips were moving faster of their own accord, her cunt rising and thrusting to meet every fuck-starved stroke. But then, as her own excitement began to build in earnest, she felt him speed up to a trembling, erratic rhythm she could not match, and she knew that the end was only seconds away, for him. He was on the very edge of coming. Too soon, for her. Much too soon. Thank God for the boys warming up in the bullpen. Sam. The blond boy with the educated mouth. The tongue with the taste for twat.
She rolled her head. Sam was there, right beside the bed. With a hard-on that was a sight for a horny girl's eyes.
"Sam," she said, her cunt thrusting upwards to suck in Tommy's explosion when it came, "stay close. Be ready."
"Right here," Sam said. "Never been readier."
Then Tommy, trembling at the hips, drove his cock full-length into the hot moist heavenly haven of her cunt, and held it there, squirting.
"Sam," she said. "Ready?"
"Ready," she heard him say. Tommy was lying, inert now, between her tightly clutching legs. His cock was still spurting.
She contracted her cunt muscles, once, twice, and Tommy took the hint. He rolled away from her, his slackening prick making a soft plopping sound as it slid out from between her stirred-up and ravenous cunt-lips.
"Ah," Toby said. "Ooh. Sam. Now, Sam."
CHAPTER NINE
In the wink of time it took Tommy to get out from between her legs, Toby took her first good look at Sam's cock. It was a deep, vivid red in color, from base to tip. And it was longer than Tommy's, and thicker, and just as hard. It was exactly what she needed. Right away. Right this second.
In a second, without another word from her or anybody else, Sam was mounted between her legs, and his stiff shaft slid in easily to take the place of Tommy's. It was bigger than Tommy's, but it still slid in easily. She gave it an exquisite little squeeze with her inner cunt-lips, by way of welcome.
Then her cunt was thrusting upwards again, hardly missing a stroke after Tommy's frantic fucking. She wondered, for a fleeting moment, if she was imagining things; Sam's cock even seemed to feel much bigger, in the swinging heaven of her cunt. It seemed to reach deeper, open the slippery walls of pleasure wider.
She gave Sam the fucking of his young lifetime, holding herself at a plateau of ecstasy, keeping herself away from the peak of her pleasure, sliding and thrusting and clutching and pumping the wet warm dream of her cunt around the rock-hard reality of his rigid, driving dork.
She didn't know, in her pumping, thrusting, controlled fuck-rhapsody, how much time went by, but all at once she was aware that Sam, too, was coming-pushing, straining, spurting into her gulping twat-depths. And she, herself, was at the trembling edge of orgasm. God. She wanted to call out, for Steve, for Kevin, for anyone with a hard cock, but she couldn't make a sound above a moan.
Then, miraculously, as she rolled her head sideways, casting about for an immediate answer to her too-immediate problem, a cock came sharply into focus, seeming to loom over her from the edge of the bed. In her frantic need, it looked beautifully, gorgeously enormous. The head was a deep violet in shade, the rigid broad shaft a seasoned brown, even on the tender, wrinkled, vulnerable underside. It looked as if it had been out in the sun all summer, carefully coated with Coppertone.
The lovely big prick grew out of the tall, redheaded boy, the one who looked older than the others.
"Are you ready for me?" Kevin asked, his face serious. She knew he had to be kidding. He couldn't have misread the frantic urgency of her thumping and groaning while Sam was coming. Where was Sam? He'd left the warm berth of her open thighs. In her desperation, she hadn't even noticed his withdrawal and departure.
"Don't put me on," she panted, weakly. "Fill my cunt with that big cock, Kevin. That big, hard, Kevin-cock. Fuck me the rest of the way to heaven."
He got to his knees between her open thighs, and lodged the head of his big tool at the grateful entrance of her roiled, hungrily clutching cunt. The head of it was the size and shape of a lemon, she thought, looking down. SunKist. Only the color and texture were different. And she'd never seen a lemon with a vertical slitted eye at the conical end of it.
She spread her legs wider, bracing her heels flat on the bed as she raised her knees, and lifted her cunt to welcome his entering thrust. He worked his joy-giving thick shaft into her greedy, deliriously slippery twat-tunnel slowly, an inch at a time, until her cunt was distended and full-feeling, his great satisfier of a cock all the way up, deep inside her. Toby could feel her inner pussy lips and cunt muscles squeezing and contracting spasmodically around the thick hard shaft. It was a trick she'd learned to thrill the boys when she'd started fucking in high school, but now she was doing it, or her cunt was doing it, just naturally, without her willing it. Love, she thought idiotically. Real love. Love of fucking, she knew. She vowed at that moment never to go so long without it again, as long as she could draw a breath. And her cunt could draw in a stiff cock.
Kevin withdrew the entire length of his shaft, slowly, until only the head remained within the clutch of her cunt-entrance, and held himself poised, the head just spreading the inner twat-mouth. Toby quivered, and tried to suppress it, but Kevin knew-he knew that she was at the very shuddering edge of orgasm.
He thrust his great cock forward then, in one deep plunge, to the hilt, and held it that way, stiff inside her, probing, filling her whole consciousness as well as her cunt with nothing but quivering, blinding sensation.
Then, uncontrollably, Toby was coming, writhing, squirming, thrusting her cunt thirstily upward, as if to engulf more of that big rigid shaft, moaning deep in her throat. Still Kevin held himself arched over her, letting her gorge herself on his iron, immobile cock.
As her spasms subsided, slowly, Toby became aware of Kevin watching her face, smiling faintly. His big thick cock, rock-hard and rigid in her weakly gulping cunt, was the beginning and end of her every sensation, the concentrated core of her being. He began to stir his hips slowly, grinding the hard base of his pelvic knoll against her wet, tender, matted mound.
"Now that you've gotten over all that girlish excitement, Toby," he said, grinning now, "why don't you relax a while and really enjoy it?"
And she was supposed to be the teacher, Toby thought, giving the boys a treat, and a lesson, at the same time. She had to smile, up into the face of the redheaded fucker arched over her.
She was in no mood and in no condition to take a dignified mental stance with him, anyway. She lay still, her thighs and cunt spread in open abandon, and felt his seemingly endless, wrist-thick shaft slide out of her twat's soft clutch, almost to the end, then slowly plunge back in, filling her once again with cock and contentment. Without her consciously willing the motion, she felt her hips starting to respond, slowly at first, raising almost imperceptibly to greet each long, deliberate fuck-stroke.
She had thought she was finished with all sensation for a while, but she felt the responding flesh-joy building inside her again, a much deeper, warmer, rounder, fuller pleasure, somehow, than the preceding delight. It reached to the roots, not just to the ends, of every responsive nerve inside her.
Without being conscious of it, she moved her legs to hook her heels inside Kevin's, giving her the leverage she needed to pursue the dedication she was so ideally formed for. Formed for fucking, she thought. Me. Toby. Toby the teacher. And never too old to learn. There was a lot more to fucking, after all, than meets the eye.
The exquisitely tuned and oiled machinery of her hips and cunt began to move in earnest then, superbly complementing the slow, deliberate, deliriously torturing shuttling of Kevin's own enormously accomplished tool.
They fucked slowly, sensuously, giving each other the ultimate in pleasure, with consummate care, for a long, long time, and Toby lost track of everything except the delicately demanding suck of her marvelously expert cunt around Kevin's in-sliding pole of smooth, slippery, hard cartilage and muscle.
Gradually, very gradually, in perfect accord, the rhythm of their fucking increased in tempo, and soon Toby heard herself gasping, unable to control the sounds issuing from her throat. She was only dimly aware of the gasping words that formed themselves on her writhing lips.
"Drive it deep, Kevin," she could hear herself saying. "Push that big cock deep in my cunt, all the way up to my throat. Fuck me hard, Kevin. Fuck me harder."
He drove his great shaft into her with renewed fury, faster, and deeper, it seemed to her, with every stroke. Then she was blind with sensation for a long moment, and knew, joyously, without regrets, that she had reached the point of no return.
He held his hard, stubborn prize of a cock very still, deep in the wet delirious flesh-trap of her cunt, as she writhed in her own private ecstasy, and then he came with her, pumping and squirting deep into her, bathing her silent, secret fires.
CHAPTER TEN
Minutes later, they were lying very still, she and Kevin, stretched out on their backs in the middle of what Toby called her castrated convertible couch, with their heads propped up against the pillows, sharing a cigarette. To Toby, it was an unseemly intimacy, sharing a cigarette with this long, lean, redheaded, possibly-nineteen-year-old who could have been a student in one of her classrooms at college only a short year ago.
It was an unseemly intimacy, to her, that sharing of a cigarette, but she had better sense than to mention it. Some things were difficult to explain, to the very young. Anyway, all she wanted to do right now was sleep. She was very tired. Contented, deeply, but tired. All fucked out, let's face it, she told herself. For a while, anyway.
She rolled her head lazily to look at the three other boys sprawled around the room, and started, suddenly, with a twinge of guilt. Steve. Dear Steve. She hadn't done a thing for her dearest horny young friend.
But he didn't look neglected, or in a frenzy to fuck. He sat carelessly naked and totally relaxed in the easy chair she'd occupied until she'd moved to the bed, with a beer in his hand, and Toby noticed with relief that he didn't even have a hard-on. His cock wasn't soft, exactly, but it was resting, long and limber, against the soft cushion of his balls on the edge of the chair.
Steve seemed almost to read her mind, and he smiled at her.
"I'm sorry if I seem to have neglected you, Steve," she said, almost formally. "But I'm saving you for dessert. Well do something very special, in a little while. When I get my strength back."
"It's all right," Steve said. "You're more than worth waiting for."
"Continence," Kevin said, from the pillow beside her. "It's good for the character. Remember, Steve's a growing boy." So re you.
"You've been peeking."
Kevin was lying on his back, and his long, inert cock, hanging down limp between his legs, had started to come awake. It lifted slowly and lay on its side, then rose sideways and fell back, then rose again, like a drunk trying to get to his feet. Toby watched, fascinated, despite her weariness. She made herself look away.
"Forget it, Kevin," she said, but she couldn't keep herself from looking again. His cock now was semi-erect, struggling to stand tall, to come to attention. Trying to throw its shoulders back, she thought.
"I can't forget it," Kevin said.
"It's sort of at half-mast," she said. "like the flag when a president dies."
"Nothing's dying," he said. "Look now."
She was looking. She couldn't help herself. His king-size cock was fully erect now, enormous again, dusky red now beneath the suntan surface; and Toby was excited again, despite herself.
"All right, you win," she said. "We both win." She raised the knee closest to him.
"Put it in sideways this time," she said.
He didn't have to be told twice.
It was a long, slow, comfortable fuck this time, delicious from beginning to end. There was none of the frantic urgency to mark the climax, as there had been last time, and this time Toby was not tired when it was over. Sated, relaxed, but not tired. A sort of second wind, she thought. Something for the boys.
They all looked at her, expectantly, hopefully, happily-but not feverishly-as she rolled over and got to her feet beside the bed.
"I'm going to take a shower," she said, heading for the short hallway toward the bathroom door. She had looked down and discovered that the in-sides of her thighs were glistening wet. "Drink your beer while I take that shower and think up something new in the way of fun and games. For Steve, most especially."
She stopped in the arch to the hallway, turned, and smiled at him, a special, fond smile.
He smiled back, looking as if he were ready for anything. No matter what it turned out to be.
Toby showered and douched, leisurely, lazily, and she pranced nude except for her high-heeled mules back into the big room. She found Steve lying on his back, also naturally nude, in the middle of the big bed. Quite evidently he didn't want to be neglected any longer, and he was taking this obvious way of reminding her of her implied promise. His long young cock lay limber between his legs as she entered the room, but it began to stir and swell and elongate itself as she sauntered provocatively-hips saucily swaying, her pert buoyant boobs bobbing, her fur-framed pussy pinkly winking-around the room.
"Get tired of waiting, Steve?" she asked, coming to a stop beside the bed. She was turned in profile to him, giving him the heart-stopping side view of her gloriously ripe, luscious, perfect, pouting ass. He was an ass-man, above all else, she'd just remembered, from the other night, and she knew all at once what the special thing was she had in mind for him. For both of them. A new, tingling excitement was rising in her, just thinking about it.
"Not tired at all," Steve said, glancing at his now-rigid prick. "Anyway, you're worth waiting for, even if it took forever."
Then, almost as if through extra-sensory perception, he sat up on the edge of the bed and started to stroke the velvety white globes of her ass. Then he stopped his caressing hands, for a moment, while he bent to kiss each rounded cheek, in turn.
Toby shivered, as if in girlish delight, but it wasn't all play-acting. She turned to face him, and leaned forward.
He took that hint, too. Still kneading and stroking the soft resilience of her ass, he sucked at first one tender wrinkled nipple, then the other, until they both stood out, jutting like little red lady-like hard-ons, in ludicrous contrast to the round softness of her gently bobbing breasts.
Toby looked down, into the straining, expectant rapture of the boy's face; then her glance dropped further. His rigid shaft stood straight up, the head a blushing pink. It seemed to be trying to tell her something. Something about the look of it was imploring, begging, beseeching.
"Do you want to?" she asked softly, as his hands explored the yielding delights of her ass, one finger tickling lightly in the tender privacy of the crevice.
"Want to?" he said, looking confused.
"Don't be dense. You know you're an ass man."
"I'm a your ass man," he said, still looking mystified. "It's the loveliest ass I've ever seen. Or touched. I think I could come, just touching it."
"Well?" she said.
"Well, what?"
"You are being dense," she said. "Wouldn't you like to touch it with something beside your finger? Do something more than kiss it?"
"Ooh, Jesus," he said. "Would I!"
Dawn was breaking, finally, she thought. She almost laughed out loud. But even as her excitement mounted, the urge to tease came on strong.
"Wouldn't you like to slide the bottom of your cock along those nice soft smooth cheeks?" she whispered.
"MMmmmm," he hummed, his hungry hands still feasting on the sumptuous swells.
"Then press your cock up along the warm crack?"
"Ooh, yes," he murmured.
'Then prod me? Push your cock in there? Fuck me up the ever-lovin' tight little ass?"
"Oooh, Jesus," he groaned.
'Well, I'd like it too," she said, "having a real dedicated young stud like you fuck me up the ass.
She wriggled it, happily, and heard the boys around the room groaning in unison as she reached out to the end table at the end of the pulled-out bed and picked up a small tube of petroleum jelly. With Steve's hands still feasting on the bounty of her exquisite rear end, she unscrewed the top of the tube, squeezed out an inch of the lubricant onto her fingertips, and faced Steve, wriggling free of his caressing hands.
"This won't hurt a bit," she said. "It'll make things easier for that beautiful young cock of yours. So you can slip it to me gently."
She reached down and gently anointed the enraged-looking, apple-shiny red head of Steve's stiffly alert prick. She let her hand slide lovingly down the shaft, lubricating it, too, for the glorious fleshly invasion.
"That'll make it easier and nicer and better for both of us," she said. She was teasing again, she knew, teasing them all, but she couldn't help herself. It was a very real part of her pleasure. "I like something a little unusual once in a while. And it's a, well, different kind of thrill for a girl, offering her ass-hole for some of the action, having a nice hard cock slipping up into her ass."
She was talking too much, she knew. Abruptly, she stepped onto the bed and positioned herself on her elbows and knees, the soft, snowy rounded hills elevated. Then she reached back and separated the globes of her buttocks, spreading the luscious soft mounds, opening to the eyes of every boy in the room the tiny, tender, puckered orifice of her willing, welcoming ass-hole.
"Now slide that slippery cock in there, Steve," she said, her voice sounding strained and ragged. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me up the ass..."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Toby watched over her shoulder as Steve moved onto the bed and got onto his knees behind her. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the pillow as she felt the hard exploring head of his cock slide up and down in the openly inviting spread crevice between her lusciously ripe buttocks.
When his slippery shaft-head had found its target in the tiny opening, she felt him push, hesitantly, tentatively. She made a conscious effort to loosen her sphincter muscles, and felt the triangular hard knob of his cock-head slide in, her eager little orifice squeezing tightly around the collar of his shaft.
"Full speed ahead, Steve," she said, her words muffled by the pillow. "Fuck my ass good. Slide that slippery cock all the way in."
Slowly, gently, the boy urged his yearning young cock into her innermost intimacy, until the white yielding cheeks of her willing ass were pressed flat against his hipbones.
"Fuck me hard now, Steve," she said, through clenched teeth, trying to encourage him further. "Fuck me hard, all the way up my ass."
But Steve didn't need any more encouragement, now. He pumped his hard slippery shaft in and out again, swiftly, furiously, groaning all the while. His free-swinging balls made tiny slapping sounds against the soft lower regions of her opened cunt. She heard herself groaning, in unison with Steve, as she pushed backward to meet every eager, driving stroke.
But the new-found excitement was too much for young Steve. All at once, in a frenzy of fuck-strokes, he was coming. And, strangely, it almost seemed to Toby that she was coming with him. She knew she couldn't be, but she felt a great excitement stirred up in her by the frantically sliding action of his slippery hard piston of a prick. What it is, she told herself crazily, is a sympathetic orgasm.
But she was enormously excited, now. She hardly waited for Steve to withdraw his cock before she flounced over onto her back.
She reached behind her, raised her hips, and swiftly placed a pillow under her ass. She glanced around the room, at Kevin, at Sam, at Tommy. Every one of them, she saw gratefully, had a hard-on.
"Whoever gets here first," she said, trying to smile through the urgency of her excitement. "Let's fuck, fellas."
She closed her eyes, raised her knees, and let her legs spread wide.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the morning, Toby woke up late, and lazy, with a don't-give-a-shit feeling about getting to the office on time. She lingered in the shower, relishing her remembrance of her marathon fucking with the boys the night before. Her eager-beaver patrol, she thought, smiling to herself as she toweled herself dry.
She was amazed to discover that the thought of the boys and their insatiable, always-ready-for-more young pricks had an arousing effect on her. She'd have thought she'd be sated with sex this morning, jaded, tired of even the thought of it, after all that activity; ready to go through another months-long stretch of celibacy, as she'd just done.
No such thing. It was as if a dam had burst, in all that excess of sexual excitement and gratification. Already, now, first thing in the morning, she was ready for more. And she wasn't even sore.
She'd expected to be, particularly in the area of her seldom-violated ass-hole. But she felt not even a trace of soreness there. And her twat should be stretched and weary, you'd think, after all that reaming by those enthusiastic, rigid young cocks. But it wasn't, internally, anyway. As she finished drying herself, she bent to take a good look at herself, and found that her pussy looked as fresh, as pert, as neatly, pinkly pursed as ever. Virginal-looking, practically, if you didn't know better.
Waiting for the coffee water to boil, she started wondering what it all meant, this sudden wild, surging, almost uncontrollable lust for young boys. And she didn't have to wonder long. Halfway through her toast and coffee, she thought she knew.
She'd found the academic life deadly dull, especially those interminable hours in front of college classrooms, full of students as bored as she was with the whole routine. She'd found the kids themselves a drag, term after term, with their same stereotyped set of hang-ups behind different, ever-changing faces.
So she'd never gotten to know any of the undergraduates well, never as people, only the names that went with which faces. Even though she looked as young or younger than most of the undergraduates, she had nothing to do with them, outside the classroom. She limited her social life to her colleagues, her teaching contemporaries. Her sporadic sexual activities were confined to other young or youngish male instructors, assistant professors, associate professors. Well, there had been one forty-five-year-old full professor, and that had been the only worthwhile, memorable episode in her whole skimpy academic sexual career. The others had been mostly coolly cerebral, or conversational, or earnest, and all of them had been dull, dull, dull.
She'd found that the--likeliest of the lot, the passionately earnest ones, had wanted to make something meaningful out of every simple fucking episode. Deep. Lasting. She'd wanted no part of that.
Thinking of those three years now, she marveled at her short-sightedness. Day after day, week after week, month after month, she'd stood in front of roomfuls of infinitely willing young cocks, much like that wonderful array last night, and she'd done nothing, absolutely nothing, to partake of that feast of hard flesh and muscle. What a waste. She could have sported the happiest cunt on campus.
Well, she thought, putting her empty coffee cup in the sink, no sense crying over unspilt semen. From here on in, she wasn't about to do any mourning over opportunities passed over. With what she'd just realized about herself, she'd just go ahead and enjoy herself, to the limit, any time she felt like it. For a while, anyway, as long as it excited her as it did now. The young ones, for her, with their insatiable lusts and their resilient, springing-up-for-more cocks.
A cradle robber, that's what she'd be called, she thought cheerfully, opening the door to her clothes closet. Cradle snatcher. Or the girl with the cradle-snatching snatch. She liked that.
She reached into the closet, hesitated, and brought her hand back empty. What she wore to the office usually was a slack suit, or a blouse or shirt and slacks, or even blue jeans. One of the older men in the office had once commented on the way the girls dressed, Toby among them, or maybe Toby particularly. "They all look," he'd said, smiling in a weary, resigned sort of way, "as if they'd just fallen off a motorcycle."
Well, not today, she decided. She didn't feel as if she'd just fallen off a motorcycle, and she wasn't about to dress that way. She felt very much alive, eager, awakened, especially in the sex department. So why not dress that way? Let everybody know how alive she felt. Might even perk up some of the tired souls around the office.
She took down a light, flimsy, summer dress with a very short skirt, that she'd never worn. Her older sister had sent it to her, she couldn't remember when, because it was too frivolous for her.
Toby stepped into her sexiest shoes, then into white mesh bikini-cut panties. She slipped the flimsy, revealing summer dress on, over her head, past her bare, buoyantly jiggling breasts, and wriggled the hem down till it stopped, only a few inches down on her bare tanned luscious thighs.
She smiled to herself, happily, and picked up her handbag.
She was ready for the office. The question was, was the office ready for her?
All through the day, she got a lot of yearning attention from many sets of male eyes, in the advertising agency where she worked, as a combination secretary and executive assistant to the creative director. She found that she enjoyed all those longing looks, both the sneaky ones and the bold ones. They made her feel somehow happy and horny at the same time. It was a good feeling. She didn't fight it.
The boldest looks of all came from Ralph, the tall blond boy who worked in the mailroom, and made a tour of the office every hour or so with interoffice correspondence.
She liked Ralph, always had, from the first day she'd worked there. He'd made it a habit to stop often at her desk, making small jokes or aimless but pleasant conversation. Today he made twice as many stops at her desk as usual, and fingered longer.
"You look even lovelier than usual, today," he said. "You've got me all choked up."
"Thank you," she said. "I expect it's just that I'm wearing a dress, for a change."
"It's what's in the dress," Ralph said, his eyes feasting on the tender morsels of her nipples, showing in a shadowed but unmistakable way through the sheer dress. "Beautiful. Downright delicious."
"Delicious? That's a strange word to use, to flatter a working girl."
"Delicious," Ralph repeated. "You look good enough to eat."
"Hoi" she said, looking up at him. "Don't talk dirty, Ralph."
"I didn't mean that way," he said, dropping his eyes. But his embarrassment was fleeting. "Then again, maybe I did."
"Ralph!" she said, enjoying her phony act. "We're in the office."
"Sure are, dammit," he said, and went away.
But the fragmentary exchange of veiled sexual pleasantries made her feel even better.
At five o'clock, when most of the people were leaving, Toby felt so good she decided to work late, and finish sorting and typing up a creative department analysis and report, a job she'd been putting off for almost a week.
By six-thirty, she still had a few pages to go, but she felt hungry. She pushed back from her desk and went downstairs to the coffee shop.
When she got back, the cleaning women were just leaving, and she thought she was alone in the office. Without any interruptions, she finished what she was doing a lot quicker than she'd have thought possible.
She was just fitting the cover on her typewriter when she realized she'd been wrong, about being alone in the office. Ralph stood by her desk, smiling at her. He had a paper cup in his hand.
"Would you like a drink before you go?" he asked. "We've got a bottle of vodka and some tonic, out in the mailroom."
"Sure," she said. "Best idea I've heard all day."
It was, too, she thought. She'd wanted to get a drink when she'd gone down to eat, but didn't want to take the time, with the rest of the typing job still hanging over her.
"The mail room's a messy place," Ralph said, as she stood up and smoothed down what there was of her skirt. Her luscious tanned thighs looked strangely out of place in the cold, efficient array of desks and typewriters. "Why don't I bring your drink back here?"
"Good," Toby said. "Bring it into Wilton's office. At least there's some comfortable furniture there, to sit on."
Wilton was her boss. He'd left around five-thirty. She went into his office and turned on his desk lamp and the two floor lamps. Without the overhead lights, his office was quite a pleasant place, with wall-to-wall carpeting, a long gray couch, and a couple of armchairs.
She was sitting in one of the armchairs, smoking a cigarette, when Ralph came into the office, carrying a bowl of ice cubes and a stack of paper cups. Behind him was Jay, the black mailroom boy. She liked Jay, too, but he didn't come around as often as Ralph did.
"I brought Jay with me," Ralph said. "Had to. It's his bottle." Jay was carrying the vodka and a quart bottle of tonic.
"Good," she said. "Nothing like having a friendly little cocktail hour right in the office."
Ralph made her a drink, a strong one, she noticed approvingly, using Wilton's desk as a bar. After he'd handed the drink to her, he freshened his own drink, and Jay's, and the two boys sat down on the couch, facing her. They raised their glasses to her, or rather their paper cups.
"To after-hours," Ralph said, "and to the loveliest girl in the office. Or any other office, for that matter."
"Thank you," Toby said, and took a deep swallow. It went down just fine. And she felt just as good as when she'd left home that morning.
"I told Toby this afternoon," Ralph said, turning to Jay, "that she looked delicious, and she said what did that mean, and I told her. She looks good enough to eat."
"I agree," Jay said, looking hungrily at the delectable display of her crossed legs. Her skirt was nowhere, as far as concealment went. The hem lay across her lower belly and hips.
"I told you, Ralph, you shouldn't talk that way in the office." But she smiled broadly at them when she said it. She was excited, all over again, for the skatey-eighth time in the last twenty-four hours. Cradle snatcher, that's what she was. Why fight it?
"It's after office horns," Ralph said. "So I can talk that way, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind," she said. "Tell you the truth, I kind of like it. But I'm a big girl now, and you're both so young."
"I'm nineteen," Ralph said.
"So'm I," Jay said. "Hardly any younger than you are."
"Me? I'm twenty-six."
"No!" Jay said.
"Hard to believe," Ralph said. "But when you were nineteen, didn't you talk pretty freely about sex?"
"I guess so. Sure. Younger than that."
"How much younger?" Jay wanted to know. "You mean how old was I when I started talking about sex."
"Well.. . "
"Or do you mean, how old was I when I started to fuck?"
They both looked at her, startled, then started to smile.
"Make me another drink," she said, "and if you want me to, I'll tell you all about it."
Jay stood up and started to make her drink, while Ralph, very casually, stood up and closed the office door.
She was filled with a strange, new, pulsing excitement. Her old urge to tease had risen up, almost uncontrollably, and she had no reason to control it.
She could tease these boys into a lather, she knew, joyously. Just by talking.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Well," she said, watching the faces of the two boys eyeing her hungrily from the couch, "I guess I became acutely conscious of sex, of my own body mostly, when I was sixteen. In high school. I was built then just the way I am now, a pound or two slimmer, maybe. My boobs were a shade smaller, maybe, but very bouncy, you know? And I always had pretty good legs."
"Pretty good!" Jay said, his dark face shining. "They're spectacular. Luscious. Gorgeous."
"Anyway, I noticed how the boys were always looking at my legs. I wore very short skirts in high school, and went barelegged, except in cold weather."
"Sure can't blame them for looking," Ralph said, doing some intent looking on his own.
"It got me sort of excited," Toby said, "the way they looked at my legs and my ass. So I started letting them see a little more."
"How?" Jay asked.
"In class, I'd cross my legs a lot, very slowly, raising my knees high and wide, sort of casually, like this." She demonstrated, giving them a long, free look up along her inner thighs. "And the boys across from me would nudge each other when the teacher was looking the other way, and stare at my legs, up the insides of my thighs under what there was of my skirt, all the way up to my panties."
"A teaser," Ralph said, lifting his eyes from the fleshly fascination of her legs to grin at her for a moment.
"I sure was. Then, one afternoon, I'd teased them all. I could stand, in Latin class. I'd gotten myself all excited, not knowing exactly how. That's when I noticed that the afternoon sun hit me just right. Lighted up my legs, and was better than a spotlight up under my skirt. So I decided I'd let the boys get a peek at my pussy."
"Right in class?" Jay asked.
"Right in class."
"Good girl," Ralph said. "Something for the boys. But how'd you go about a project like that?"
"Held up my hand and asked to be excused. I almost chickened out when I got to the girls' room, but I was very excited and-well, reckless. I took off my pants and put them in my handbag and went back to class. The boys across from me were watching me very closely when I sat down. I don't know if they were guessing what I'd done, but I didn't give them long to guess. I lifted one knee, high, wide and handsome, and held it that way, showing them my pussy for as long as I dared before I covered it up by crossing my legs."
"I don't suppose you'd consider putting on the show for us that you put on for your classmates?" Jay asked.
"Well, right now I just want to tell you about it. Later, well see. Meanwhile, how about making us another drink?"
Ralph got up and got the glasses together, working with his eyes on Toby and her ever-changing display of legs.
"What happened?" Jay asked. He kept shifting uncomfortably. Toby knew he had a hard-on. So did Ralph.
"A lot of boys flunked Latin, that Spring term. I kept giving them peeks at my pussy, all the way up until June."
What else happened?" Ralph asked, handing her her drink and sitting down on the couch again.
"I passed Latin all right. I got a B plus, I i think."
"You know I don't mean that. What happened after class, that first day you gave the boys a look at your pussy?"
"It wasn't just a little peek," Toby said, remembering, her excitement mounting, slowly but steadily. She was teasing herself as much as the boys, she thought, with this recital. It was something different. "What I gave them," she continued, "was a good, long look. Several good, long looks, with my legs pretty far apart, at my whole thirsty little twat. They had time to count the hairs."
They were both stirring on the couch, in an agony of erect discomfort.
"But what happened after class, that first day?" Jay asked again.
"It was the last class of the afternoon. Four of the boys were waiting for me on the steps outside school. Anybody could see they all had a hard-on."
"Not only them," Ralph muttered, glancing down at the bulging front of his pants.
"Patience," she said, and laughed. "I may be able to think of something to do for your condition, later."
"Well, let's get this story over with," Jay said. "What happened, with the high school boys and their hard-ons?"
"One of them had a car. They wanted me to go for a drive with them."
"Did you?"
"Sure. I was very excited. Horny, if you want to know. I hadn't even put my pants back on, after class."
"Were you a virgin then?" Ralph asked.
"Practically. I'd been fucking one boy, in a blueberry field, a couple of years before, and my mother caught us, and scared me out of fucking for a long time."
"But did you fuck the boys from your Latin class?" Ralph asked, in exasperation. He looked ready to explode.
"No."
"What did you do?" Jay asked.
"Well, we drove around on back roads for a while, and the boys kept taking turns sitting in the back seat with me. I let them kiss me, and gave them a lot of tongue, and I let them feel me up, you know, take my boobs out and squeeze them and diddle around and suck the nipples. I was very, very horny."
"That's all you let them do?"
"I let them feel my legs, and my ass, all they wanted. And they wanted to, a lot, all of them."
"What about your pussy? Didn't you let them touch your pussy?" Ralph was full of questions. He was in a terrible hurry for her to get her history over with.
"Well, yes, finally. I let them touch my pussy, and diddle with it. But I wouldn't let them put anything inside, not even a finger. I didn't want to be finger-fucked."
"Why not?"
"I had better ideas, even then." She smiled at them, mysteriously. "Let me finish. Finally we parked out on an old wood road somewhere, and got out of the car. God, those boys were horny, by then." Jay and Ralph groaned, in unison. "Hornier than I was, I think. If that's possible."
"Did you do anything for them?" Ralph asked, sitting still now, staring fixedly and hungrily at the insides of her thighs. She'd uncrossed her legs.
"I jerked them off," Toby said, softly, "one at a time. Some slowly, like this." She demonstrated, with her loosely closed fist, watching the boys' straining faces. "Some fast, like this. I loved it. I loved to see them come, spurting onto the grass. But I was still horny as hell. And by the time I'd gotten the fourth boy to come, the first boy's cock was hard again."
"Then what?" Ralph asked, in an agonized voice.
"I made a deal with them."
"What kind of a deal?"
"I said if they'd go down on me, if they'd lick and suck my pussy, every one of them, then I'd suck them all off, suck every one of their cocks. If they promised not to tell anyone."
"And?" Ralph asked.
"They went for the deal. Wow, did they go for it."
"High school boys?" Ralph asked, sounding a little surprised. "You got them to go down on you?"
"They loved it. They took turns, sucking and licking and gobbling my cunt until they were out of breath. I came twice. And then I'd had enough."
"And the boys?"
"I sucked them off, one right after the other, licking and sucking their cocks very slowly, making it last for them as long as I could. And I swallowed their come, every last drop."
"Didn't you ever fuck them?"
"No. Not until the fall term, anyway," Toby said, grinning.
"Did they tell anyone about your sucking their cocks?" Ralph asked.
"Of course they did."
"Didn't you mind?"
"No. It was good advertising."
"Jesus," Jay said, taking a gulp of his drink. "What do you mean, good advertising?"
"I had all the dates I wanted, from then on. Two a night, if I felt like it."
"What happened on the dates?"
"I sucked a lot of good, hard cocks," Toby said, smiling some more.
"And?"
"I loved it."
"I mean, what did you get out of it?"
"I had my cunt sucked a lot. An awful lot. And I loved that even more."
"You're a lovely lady, Toby," Ralph said, putting his paper cup carefully on the floor. "Now when are you going to show us what you showed the boys in your high school Latin class?"
"You really believed what I told you?"
"Does it matter?"
"No."
"It was a very arousing story, anyway," Ralph said. "But when are you going to show us what you did or didn't show the boys in high school?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Toby said, smiling happily.
She stood up, turned her back, deftly removed her panties, dropping them to the floor, and sat down again, facing Ralph and Jay.
Smiling, with the tip of her tongue showing between her lips, she let her knees drift apart, with tantalizing slowness.
Then, lazily, she raised one leg and draped it across the arm of the chair.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"I think that's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen," Ralph said, getting to his feet, "and I'm a couple of years beyond being a high school boy."
He dropped to his knees in front of her and kissed the inside of one swelling calf, then moved his tongue slowly upward, making soft, small circles on the responding flesh of her inner thighs. Toby could feel herself begin to purr as his tongue touched the soft globes beneath the lower opening of her cunt.
"Eat it all, Ralph," she said, her voice suddenly tight. "You're a growing boy. Don't just taste here and there."
She spread her legs farther apart as his fingers came up and opened wide the softly swelling outer lips of her now-greedy cunt, His tongue came forward slowly, extended fully, and with one long, hard, broad stroke, licked the entire inner length of her twat, roiling the sensitive, responsive folds of quivering moist membrane.
Toby felt her hips responding, all on their own, pressing her pussy to his mouth as his tongue probed deeper. His lips closed over the elusive eel of her clitoris, and as Ralph sucked and licked and gobbled her cunt, his mouth, lips and tongue worked together as a team to stir up the already stormy little pink sea of sensation between her furry shores.
Then, squirming, Toby was conscious of another sensation, somehow reminiscent of the busy evening before: one of Ralph's fingers was probing into the puckered entrance of her ass-hole. She let her sphincter go loose, welcoming the intruder, and his finger slid deep, wriggling and exploring.
Her mouth opened and a gasp escaped. This whole younger generation was full of surprises-Ralph, now, finger-fucking her ass-hole while his tongue probed her cunt.
Toby felt her hips rising and thrusting in the chair, faster and faster, to meet the probing of Ralph's tongue, the suction of his mouth glued tight to her up-thrusting twat. Her ass twirled in minute, squirming circles to the added excitement of his diddling, deep-plunging finger. She reached a plateau of pure pleasure, and stayed there, deliberately, not wanting to come this way, after all that build-up for the boys, while Ralph, hungry, fully-dressed Ralph, kept gobbling, licking, devouring the tender fiery flesh of her cunt. But Toby had to have more-much, much more.
"Please, Ralph," she said at last. "Please."
Looking over at Jay, sitting tensely on the sofa, she raised one hand and crooked her finger.
"Your turn, Jay," she said. "But get undressed first, please. I want you to fuck me. Please."
Ralph took his mouth a fraction of an inch away from its pink, squirming sustenance and looked up at her. His tongue kept licking air. He didn't say anything. He didn't look capable of saying anything.
"Take a breather, Ralph," she said. "Let your friend have a little fun. Let him cool his cock in there. Let him find out if it's delicious, like you say. Let him find out the ever-lovin' hard way."
She sat back in the chair, her thighs wide open, and Ralph resumed his licking, lazily, now. She was watching, in awed admiration, as Jay fumbled with buttons and zippers, and his sleek-muscled milk chocolate body came gradually into view. Jay's shoulders were wide and slightly sloping, his chest broad and flat and completely hairless. The muscles in his arms and upper body were long and smooth, not bunchy or knotty, but as he dropped his pants and undershorts he turned his back, smiling at her fleetingly over his shoulder as he stepped out of them and stood looking away from her for a moment, completely nude.
Her eyes traveled up from the floor, tasting the sight of his powerful swelling calves, his surging trunk-like thighs, and the high nervous bunching of his taut, concave buttocks. Jay turned to her, then, slowly, and she took a deep suck of air.
His mammoth rigid cock throbbed upward, the swollen dusky-purple head winking a challenge at her with its single Cyclops eye. Her mouth opened involuntarily, and she closed it with a conscious effort, and smiled at him.
"Wheel your cannon over here, please," she said, then touched Ralph on the forehead, moving his head back. "Your feast is over, for a while, Ralph. For dessert, you can fuck me, a little later. If you want."
Ralph got to his feet, reluctantly, and managed a smile.
She transferred her attention to Jay, and focused his huge, swinging cock. She smiled, but it was an effort. She didn't feel like smiling. She felt like screaming out loud, in sheer joy.
Jay smiled, too, but it looked like an effort on his part, too. She was glad to know that she wasn't alone in being less than casual about this upcoming fuck. A cock like that was a special occasion, for any horny girl's cunt.
As he stepped toward her, she sat spread-thighed and immobile in the chair, staring in delighted wonder at the great shaft aimed so accurately at the wet open slit of her pinkly pouting pussy, at the core of her being.
Behind and below the tightly-stretched, darkly-gleaming skin of his apple-hard prickhead, the long, thick shaft seemed to diminish in the distance, like straight railroad tracks on a level plain, she thought idiotically. Jay's cock was roughly the thickness of her wrist, Toby estimated, and the color of seasoned oak.
As Jay came close, she reached out and touched his monstrous limb with her fingers, then held it caressingly, possessively, between both hands. Not only was it the color of old oak, it was just as hard. With the bark off. Thank God, with the bark off. She had an uncomfortable moment, thinking of the rough sides of a tree trunk rasping and scratching its way along the tender walls of her twat.
His voice de-railed her chain of thought.
"We're very flattered," Jay said, and for a moment she was confused, by the Ve.' Then she knew it wasn't the editorial 'we.' He was referring to himself and his great dark dork. Partners, they were, in his mind. United in a very earnest team effort.
"It's magnificent," she said, giving the stout oaken limb an affectionate squeeze with her hands. She could have thrown her arms around it. "It's a beautiful cock. An enormously beautiful cock. I can't take my eyes off it."
"You're going to have to take your eyes off it," Jay said, being practical, "if it's going to do you or me or anybody any good."
"You're so right," Toby said, and bent forward in the chair and kissed the dark noble shaft, licking the underside with her tongue, then taking the soft folds of skin in the gathered wrinkled shawl below the shaft neck between her lips, moistening the unresisting sensitive mass with tiny, soft, sucking kisses, making her mouth very tender and soft and warm.
"Enough," Jay said, his hands on her ears. She drew her mouth from his cock, stood up, tugged off her dress, and stepped out of her shoes as she stepped over to the long couch and lay down, on her back. Glancing down, she saw that her taut nipples were wrinkled, puckered, stiffly erect, poking up darkly at Jay, who was watching her with something that looked like amusement on his face.
But only for a moment. He dropped to his knees beside the couch and pushed her gently back as she started to sit up to kiss him. When she lay flat again, his open mouth found her own mouth's warm, wet welcome, and his tongue plunged in and began a frantic, sliding tango with hers. She felt his hands all over her at once, sliding, squeezing, stroking, pinching at her hard, inflamed nipples. Then she felt a finger slide urgently into the waiting wetness of her quaking, craving cunt.
Toby tore her mouth away from his and lay back on the couch with an in-sucking gasp, opening her legs, spreading her thighs and the lips of her cunt in a wide, wanton welcome.
"No," he said, looking deep into her eyes. He seemed to be smiling, faintly. My God, she thought, what a time to make jokes.
"No, what?" She was squirming, writhing, conscious of the warm, coarse fabric of the couch, against the tender skin of her ass.
"No. Not here."
"Not here?" He was crazy. As long as they'd gotten this far, Wilton's couch was as good a place as any. Jay was either crazy, or cruel. A sadist, that's what he was. Toby was in an agony of immediate desire, of quivering lust, of totally abandoned torment.
"Not on the couch," Jay said, smiling gently. "On the floor. There's more room."
Thank God, she thought, sliding swiftly to the rug. He wasn't crazy at all. Far from it. There was more room on the floor.
Jay arched over her, bracing himself on his elbows, and she flung her legs joyously around his lean hips, hooking her heels behind him. His brown face, smiling tenderly, was directly over hers, his eyes looking steadily into her own.
Toby reached down and expertly swung the great boom of his heavy dark cock toward her, bringing the gleaming swollen head against the hot swollen outer lips of her wet, soundlessly burbling cunt.
He eased the monstrous rigid shaft forward an inch, two inches, until most of the seemingly fist-sized head was engulfed in her slimed, quivering twat-opening. Then he stopped his forward thrust, holding his hips immobilized.
"Oh, please," she almost sobbed, between her squeezed-shut teeth. "Please. Put it in."
"All of it?" Jay was smiling broadly now. Oh, my God, she thought. I'll never be a tease again.
"All of it. Every long, lovely, thick, hard fucking inch of it." It was almost a prayer, the way she said it.
Jay began to slide the long, hard, velvet-sheathed log into her clutching, hungry cunt, then, slowly, an inch at a time. There were a lot of inches to slide in. Toby unhooked her heel" from behind him and let her legs he wide apart, spreading the red carpet of her cunt for his royal entrance, but as the thick rigid plunger approached the termination of its first trip into the depths of her gasping cunt-cavern, her knees perked up spasmodically, and her legs began to flail around behind his back.
When the great shaft was fully imbedded, to the hilt, his pelvic mound grinding hard against her sucking cunt-mouth, she hooked her heels behind him again and raised her hips, pushing herself tighter against him. His hands came up behind her, holding her shoulders, as he drew the shaft slowly outward, then plunged it in again. It seemed to reach even deeper as the walls of her cunt-sheath opened wider to accommodate the length and breadth of Jay's surging monster of a prick.
"That's it," Toby said. "Deep. Deeper."
Jay began to fuck her deeply, with long, slow, driving strokes, and her hips rose and fell, rose and fell, in perfect time with his own slow rhythm, her cunt lips clutching and sucking and holding the thick slippery shaft as if reluctant to let go on every out-stroke, squeezing and embracing every deepening plunge to her inner depths.
Toby's eyes were squeezed shut, and she could hear only the sound of Jay's deep breathing, mingled with her own panting moans. Then, gradually, she became aware of the sound her own hips and buttocks were making, pounding on the carpet, and she knew that the tempo of their fucking had increased. She heard a slapping sucking sound, too, and knew it came from the wild pounding of his heavy, swinging balls in the sweaty crevice between her pumping buttocks.
Her own moans were louder, now, becoming gasping little screams, and she knew her fingernails were raking the smooth skin of his back. But she couldn't help herself, couldn't stop, couldn't keep herself from doing anything she was doing. The pounding of her hips sounded to her as frantic as the frenzied struggles of an impaled moth.
Then her climax was on her, bursting inside her, searing, throbbing, pounding, choking her in a thunderous, lightning-stabbed storm of roaring sensation.
"Now," she screamed, "oh, God, now."
Jay drove his mammoth prick into her ecstatic cunt in a pounding fury of lightning strokes, and as she shuddered and jerked convulsively she felt his hot juices spurting into her, gushing deep, flooding her deep quivering cave of cock-loving joy. She put her arms and legs tight around him, and just hung on, as he kept the hard core of her ecstasy buried deep inside her, letting the diminishing waves of her passion wash over it.
It was a long time before her spasms subsided enough for her to let go of him. Toby lay back limply on the rug, looking up at him, as he drew his giant slackening organ out of the tender clutch of her sated cunt, and got to his feet.
He looked down at her, lying stretched out on the rug, her legs still apart, her cunt oozing come and contentment.
"You ought to work late more often," he said. "Aah, yes," she breathed.
She was too wonderfully weary at the moment to say any more. The way she felt, the floor was quite comfortable, the cushioning provided by the thick carpet quite adequate.
Still lying flat on her back, her legs sprawled apart, she let her eyes close.
She opened her eyes only seconds later, at the feel of a hard and hairy leg brushing the inside of her thigh, just above the knee.
Ralph was kneeling there, between her spread thighs, ready to mount her. She'd forgotten all about Ralph, while Jay had been fucking her.
But Ralph hadn't forgotten about her. He was completely naked, his cock pulsingly erect.
"Ahh, Ralph," she said, sitting up abruptly. "Would you mind waiting a little while? I'm all fucked out, at the moment."
"Wait!" Ralph said, looking down at his rigid, straining prick. "I've been waiting."
"Maybe I can think of something to do for you, while you're waiting," Toby said, smiling at him.
"What?"
"Sit down, over on the couch."
He hesitated a second, then got to his feet, stepped over to the couch, and sat down. Toby moved over to him, crabwise, sat Yoga-fashion between his spread knees, and leaned forward and took the inflamed-looking, red swollen head between her soft, warm, moist lips.
"Ahh," Ralph said, letting his hips slide forward to the edge of the couch.
Toby took her mouth away for a fleeting moment, and smiled up at him.
"like that?" she asked him.
"Love it."
"Well, it's the least I can do for you, while you're waiting."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you sucked my pussy before, didn't you?"
"Sure did. And it was delicious."
"So. The least I can do now is suck your cock for you, while you're waiting to slide it into my juicy cunt."
"I agree," Ralph said.
She leaned forward again, took his cock into her mouth, deeply this time, and began to suck him off in earnest, with loving, tongue-fluttering skill. She gave him the sucking of his young lifetime.
And to Toby, his cock was delicious.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Next day at the office, both Ralph and Jay stopped often at her desk, trying to persuade her that she ought to work late that night, too. Toby kept saying no, politely. It wasn't that she'd had enough for a while, that she'd temporarily lost interest in sex. It was just that she didn't want to make a habit of fucking the mailroom boys, in Wilton's handy office or anywhere.
It was good to know that she could get all the grade-A fucking she wanted, any time she wanted it, right in the office. But she didn't want to make a habit of it.
The boys' frequent friendly pauses at her desk had an effect on her, however. By late afternoon, she was feeling unmistakably horny.
When Steve phoned, around a quarter to five, she was both surprised and pleased. Surprised, because she'd forgotten that she'd given Steve her office number. Pleased, because she liked Steve very much, and pleased because of the way she was feeling, at that particular time. Steve was not the land of boy who'd call her unless he had something on his mind.
"Are you busy tonight?" Steve asked. The impetuous young, she thought. Don't waste any time.
"That depends," she said, from force of habit. A girl has to keep her options open. As well as her mind. And her legs, when the time is right. And lately, for her, the time was always right.
"Well, my parents are going out tonight. They've already left, to meet people for cocktails and dinner, and then the theater."
"So?" Toby said.
"They don't go out for a whole evening very often. They won't be back till midnight, at the earliest."
"So?" Toby said again.
"So I'm throwing sort of a cocktail party, for some friends. Some of them are the guys you met the other night. Tommy, Sam, Kevin."
"Cocktail party," Toby said, laughing. "With the accent on the first syllable."
"Could be," Steve said. "I sure hope so, but it all depends."
"On what?"
"On who else is there."
"I hope there'll be some other girls there," Toby said. "Gang-bangs are fine, but only when I'm the hostess, and when I happen to feel like it, just once in a while. You understand me, I hope."
"There'll be other girls here," Steve said. "One, anyway. I know Kevin's bringing a date."
"Good," Toby said. "I'll be there, in an hour, or maybe less." She was shameless, she thought. A bunch of kids. And she didn't feel guilty about it, not a bit.
"Get here as soon as you can," Steve said, sounding very boyish, all at once. "What's the hurry?"
"The sooner we get the party started, the easier it'll be to have it all over with by midnight. Before there's any chance of my folks coming home."
"And everybody turns into a pumpkin," Toby said.
'What?"
"Nothing." Kids today never even heard of Cinderella. They watched television, while they were growing up. Or instead of growing up.
"But that's not the only reason I want you to get here as soon as you can."
"What's the other reason?"
"I want to see you, as soon as possible. I always want to see you, as soon as possible."
"That's very sweet of you, Steve," she said. "I look forward to seeing you, too."
She meant it. She felt warmly pleased, and fond of the boy, as she hung up.
She felt horny, too, of course. But then, she'd practically alwavs felt horny, lately. Ever since she'd discovered her very own fountain of youth.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The address Steve had given her was in the East Seventies. As she paid the cab driver, she noticed that there was a doorman in front of the canopied building, and it amused her, the contrast between this and her Greenwich Village four-flight walk-up. But it accounted for part of the confidence and sense of security she'd noticed in Steve, a confidence and composure she'd thought remarkable in a boy so young. Money wasn't everything, she mused, slamming the cab door, but it sure did a lot to ease the growing pains in a growing boy. Or girl, probably. She wouldn't know. Her own small-town, small-minded parents had been chronically only a short jump away from welfare. Poor, but proud.
The proud part had served Toby well. She stared the doorman down, before pushing her way through the revolving door into the tastefully carpeted and richly appointed little lobby. Some of her friends, she recalled, had confessed to being awed by doormen, and headwaiters, and other presumptuously, spuriously haughty menials.
Toby considered the people in positions like that pathetic, as well as phony, and the jobs they clung to, archaic. Even if she'd been dressed to look as if she'd just fallen off a motorcycle, she'd have felt no uneasiness with this or any other doorman. And today, for the second day in a row, she didn't look as if she'd just fallen off a motorcycle. She was wearing a dress again, another dress that her sister had sent her, a dress as short, as flimsy, and as revealing as the dress she'd worn yesterday.
Maybe she looked to the doorman as horny as she felt, she thought, and the thought pleased her. Maybe some day she'd get a doorman to go down on her, just for kicks.
That thought pleased her so much she was almost visiHv glowing by the time she stepped into the elevator.
Steve opened the door for her, almost before she'd taken her finger off the buzzer. After she'd stepped inside and he'd closed the door behind her, he hugged her warmly. Confidence and composure he sure had, she thought, remembering her conclusions about him only two minutes before.
The tall redheaded boy she remembered so well got to his feet as they walked arm-in-arm into the big living room.
"Good to see you again, Toby," he said. "You look lovelier than ever."
"Why, thank you, Kevin," she said, smiling and doing a mock curtsey, aware suddenly of the brevity and airiness of the dress she was wearing. It made a mockery of anything like modesty or concealment. Her sudden awareness was caused by the presence of another girl in the room.
And what a girll She was a startlingly pretty tawny-blonde, with white, almost translucent skin that evidently stayed that way even in summer, since it was now mid-August. Quite obviously the girl took no chances with exposure to the sun. She was standing at the far end of the room, by the windows, a tall girl with a body that was pliantly slender, almost fragile-looking. She had young, budding, un-bra'd breasts, and long, slim, exquisitely formed legs. It was difficult for Toby to imagine her doing anything so indelicate as spreading those legs. like Toby, she was wearing a dress, a light, pale-green summer dress with a skirt that stopped just below the hips, putting her lovely white legs on open display. Her legs were not quite as ripely spectacular as Toby's, but they were longer, Toby thought, with a touch of envy. She'd always wanted to be tall and long-legged.
"Toby, this is Betsy," Kevin said, and the tall .girl swayed with a model's graceful strut toward Toby, to shake hands. The way her boobs jiggled and bobbed with every step made it even more acutely obvious, to male eyes, that she was wearing no bra. Toby wondered idly, as she let go of the girl's hand, if she was wearing pants under that short dress. Not that it mattered.
"I'm smashed," Betsy said happily, turning to sprawl in an easy chair. "Drinking Rob Roys with a bunch of people before Kevin came to drag me away. Ever drink Rob Roys?" The question was directed to no one in particular.
"Best thing to switch to after Rob Roys," Toby said helpfully, "is plain Scotch and water. I'll have one myself, Steve, if it isn't too much trouble."
"No trouble," Steve said, moving toward the bar in an alcove in one wall of the spacious room. "There's someone else here you know, Toby, beside me and Kevin. He's in the bathroom."
She started to ask who, but heard a door open and close. Toby closed her mouth and looked in the direction of the sound.
Roy Horlick walked into the room, grinning.
"Well," Toby said, hoping she'd concealed her fleeting fraction-of-a-second of shock. "Uncle Roy. Are you chaperoning this weenie roast?"
"You know better than that, Toby," Roy said, smiling at her. "I've bridged the generation gap. I've been assimilated into the lifestyle of the young."
Maybe, Toby thought, not saying anything. And maybe he could turn out to be a terribly inhibiting influence on Steve's party. A very wet blanket.
Oh, well. Play it by ear. She sat back comfortably on the couch, and sipped her Scotch, waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When Sam and Tommy arrived, only minutes later, they were without dates, but that didn't bother Toby. The way she was feeling, she'd have been glad to entertain the whole group herself. But she had a feeling that blonde Betsy would be willing to do a share of the entertaining, no matter how things worked out. Toby was very curious to see how things did work out, if they did at all. How the ice would be broken, and by whom.
She just sat back, her luscious legs crossed, and sipped her drink, and watched, an interested spectator. A very interested spectator, with a case of the mounting hornies.
Once they were settled in chairs around the room, Toby noticed with pleased amusement that the boys couldn't decide on whom to stare at, her or Betsy. Their eyes drank her in, then switched hungrily to Betsy, then came back to her. They were aware of Roy's older, inhibiting presence, but only dimly. They never looked at him. They'd all met him before, and that was that. Roy was openly amused.
"You know something, Roy?" Steve said, tearing his eyes away from Toby to look over at his uncle. "What?"
"These are the two best-looking girls I've ever seen in one room at the same time."
"They're the two best-looking girls I've ever seen in the same room at the same time," Roy said, "and I've been in a lot more rooms with a lot more women than you've ever thought of."
"I bet you have," Toby said, but she smiled when she said it.
"Only one thing wrong with this pair," Roy said.
"I can't see a thing wrong with them," Kevin said. It was the first time he'd spoken, Toby realized, since he'd made the introductions right after she'd gotten there.
"There is, though. They're wearing too many clothes."
So, Toby thought. He wasn't going to be a wet blanket, after all. He was going to be the icebreaker.
Toby looked over at Betsy. Betsy looked back at her, and winked broadly. She got up then, and came over and sat down on the couch beside Toby. As the tall girl had stood up, Toby had gotten a fleeting glimpse, between her briefly opened thighs, of dark-blonde hair. Smart girl, Toby thought. She wasn't wearing pants either. Toby had whisked hers off in the cab. The driver, admiring her in the rearview mirror, had gone through a red light.
"You think were wearing too many clothes, do you, Roy?" Toby asked. The urge to tease was rising strongly in her, now. Magnified by the excitement of having all that healthy, horny young male meat in the same room with her. With her and with Betsy, of course. Share and share alike, she thought, magnanimously.
"I do," Roy said.
"Let's see what the boys think," Toby said, making a vaguely commanding gesture with her hand, the one without the drink in it. She and Betsy were sitting side by side on the couch, with their knees primly together but their legs, Toby's deliciously tanned and Betsy's delicately white, with their brief skirts up around their hips, completely and spectacularly on open display.
As if in complete understanding of Toby's vague hand-signal, the boys slid from their chairs to the floor, moving crabwise to seat themselves on the carpet where they could look toward the girls at an upward angle. They reminded Toby at that moment of even younger teenagers, trying to see up imder the skirts of the girls in the grandstand at high school football games. From the expressions on their faces, Toby thought, their mouths should have been open, but they were too sophisticated, after the other night anyway, for any such display.
Toby turned her head to look at Betsy, and saw-that Betsy was looking at her. As if they'd rehearsed the move, then, in precise synchronization, like a pair of incredibly sensuous, horny
Rockettes, they let their knees come apart, and slowly, casually, freely flaunting their legs, opened their thighs deliberately, teasingly, and raised their knees and very slowly and casually crossed their legs, letting their willing pussies pout pinkly at the boys.
"Holy good Jesus Christ," Steve said. "I need another beer."
"Me, too," Tommy said.
"Me, too," Sam said.
"I need some Scotch," Kevin said.
"Me, too," Roy said, "even though I can't see what's going on." From his chair off to one side, he couldn't see what the boys had seen. But Toby knew damn well he knew what they'd seen.
"I'll get the drinks," Toby said, uncrossing her legs tantalizingly, openly, in teasingly slow motion. As she straightened up, she let the front hem of her skirt cling lingeringly at the soft swell of her lower belly, where it curved in toward her cunt, giving the boys a more leisurely look at her moistening, pinkly parted twat.
As she moved toward the bar, letting her hips sway, the globes of her ass joggle temptingly, Toby heard Betsy suggesting that the boys get out of some of their clothes, it was such a warm evening. Out of some of their clothes, and into the spirit of things. They were all too formal, Betsy told them. Betsy was tight, Toby knew, but not so tight that she didn't know how to get things moving, now that Roy had made his move to break the ice.
When Toby turned from the bar with a tray of drinks, the boys were all sitting on the rug in their undershorts, poked out grotesquely at varying angles.
"You all look much more comfortable now," Toby said, "except for Roy." Roy was still fully clothed. Some kind of modesty, in front of these kids, Toby thought. Oh, well. No sense fretting about Roy. He was old enough to take care of himself, when the time came.
Toby moved around the room, handing out drinks. She noticed that the boys made her bend a little when she handed them their beers, making it possible for the others to get a fairly satisfying glimpse up her miniskirt in back, of the fur-framed moist magnet of her tender, inviting cunt. The realization excited her, and she deliberately bent a little further than was necessary, held each bent-over pose a cock-throb longer, letting their eyes feast on the soft pink promise of her openly pouting pussy.
But the only one to slide a hand up her inner thigh and slip a finger between the damp outer lips of her twat was Steve. She stepped back as his finger started to slide up inside her wet, willing cunt, and looked at him sternly, like a teacher with a bold student.
"Now, Steve," she said. "Mustn't touch. Time for that, maybe, a little later."
"I'm just impetuous," Steve said.
Betsy diverted their attention then.
"You're missing a lot, Roy," she said, "sitting over there."
"I'm what's known as an innocent bystander," Roy said. "Or by-sitter."
"Would you like me to show you what you're missing?" Betsy asked. "Do a little informal modeling for you?"
"Love it."
What's the girl up to, Toby wondered? She didn't have long to wonder.
Betsy swayed to the far end of the room, turned around in a model's twirl, and lifted the front hem of her skirt, delicately, with the tips of her fingers.
The boys stared. So did Roy, obviously fascinated, Toby supposed, by the coppery, silken blonde luxuriance of the rich growth of hair along the pink slash of Betsy's visibly moist, tantalizingly tender-looking twat, the lips swelling now, parted slightly in a stoningly pink, petulant pout. God, Toby thought, Betsy's neat, glistening cunt looked so dewy-fresh, so tender and warm, so small, so young. So invitingly edible.
She saw Roy's tongue come out, without his being aware of it. Toby was sure, and lick his lips. Betsy didn't miss the tongue's hint, and she did a tiny little bump, lifting her open-lipped little dream of a cunt into up-thrust, beckoning, pouting pink prominence.
"like my pussy, Roy?" she asked, with a small, teasing smile on her moist, soft mouth. "like the looks of my hot little twat? My juicy, warm, slippery, sucking, cock-loving cunt?"
"Love the looks of your hot little twat," Roy said, licking his lips again. "Your tight little cunt."
Tight? Toby thought, and suppressed a laugh. Tight, my ass.
But she stared at Betsy's open cunt, fascinated almost as much as Roy and the boys. The deep vibrant pinkness of the girl's twat and the coppery-blonde sheen of the soft silken hair framing it were made brighter, more startling, by contrast with the whiteness of the skin of Betsy's soft, slender, rounded ripe thighs, her long, curving lower belly.
"Would you like to lick my cunt, Roy?" Betsy asked. "Taste my pussy? Taste my twat to find out if it's as tasty as it looks?"
"It looks downright delicious," Roy said.
Betsy started walking toward him, holding up the front hem of her dress, keeping her pussy on display. The walk, Toby noticed, was perfect. A slow-motion version of a model's slinky strut, and Betsy was executing it one step at a time, beaming a bright lewd smile at the boys with each step.
Without taking his eyes from Betsy's twat, Roy started taking off his clothes, moving much more swiftly than the blonde girl's advance toward him. He was down to his shorts by the time she got there, and stopped, her up-thrust, open pink slit in its rich blonde muff only a few inches away from his face.
"Kiss it hello," Betsy said.
Dammit, Toby thought. She'd used those very words, with somebody now in the room, only the other day.
Toby watched as Roy leaned forward, like a man in a dream, extended his tongue, and began to lick up and down between the open lips of Betsy's inviting delicacy of a cunt. Betsy's hips began to undulate, pushing her tender flesh-feast eagerly against Roy's cunt-hungry mouth.
She watched, fascinated, as Roy's tongue extended into the vibrant pink glory of Betsy's open, glistening, lust-wet cunt. Betsy's head was thrown back, her mouth open, her eyes closed.
"Oh, God," Betsy said suddenly, and stepped back. "I don't want to come like this."
Roy's tongue was left lapping air.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Toby couldn't stand the strain of just sitting still any longer. Watching Roy lapping Betsy's cunt had made her unbearably horny, and the boys seemed to be in some sort of trance. She got to her feet and went over to the bar to make herself another drink, keeping a curious eye on the group while she did it.
For a long moment, after she drew away from Roy's busy tongue, Betsy stood still, as if frozen in position at the peak of her frenzy of lust. But she wasn't frozen, at all, and proved to Toby in the next few seconds that she was a girl of resources.
Shaking herself out of her statue-like stance, Betsy turned and moved over to the couch Toby had just left. Toby watched, with fascination, as the tall girl smiled at the boys sitting inanely in a row on the floor, then turned her back to them and bent over, spreading her hands flat on the cushions of the couch.
The hem of Betsy's short dress slid high in back, exposing the full glory of her snow-white, perfectly formed young ass, aimed directly into the boys' staring eyes. Betsy had her feet apart, her legs spread, and her cunt winked pinkly, wetly, openly, at all of them. She was putting it on exhibition again, Toby knew, from a different perspective, angling for different results.
Toby, at the bar, trying to keep her hand from shaking as she sipped her drink, thought she'd never seen a cunt look so vulnerable as Betsy's twat looked in that position. The tender swollen outer lips of her moistly glistening pink slit seemed to gape open, displaying the tiny soft ridges and folds and crevices of intimate membrane, all a bright blushing pink, wet and welcoming. It was an open invitation, Toby knew. The boys couldn't miss the message.
The ice was broken. Shattered, Toby thought. It was time for the fuck-festivities to start.
But no one was starting them. For some reason, the boys seemed to be suffering from an acute attack of the shys. Betsy was still bent over, her legs spread, her open cunt all but beckoning, and not one of the boys had made a move.
Kevin, Toby knew intuitively, must be holding back because Betsy was his date, and he didn't want to appear to be selfish.
But Steve-there was no reason for Steve to be shy or backward about making a convivial move. She glanced in his direction and saw that he was looking directly at her, almost appealingly.
Steve stood up, his shorts poked far out in front. He bent swiftly and stripped the shorts to the floor, then almost bounded toward Betsy, his rigid cock jiggling stiffly in front of him, leading the way.
When he reached Betsy he raised his hands to hold her by the hips, and, without hesitation, lodged the head of his bursting-hard cock between the hungering open lips of her ravishing, wet, pink cunt.
"Ooohh," Toby heard Betsy murmur, but the tall girl didn't straighten up or turn around. "Who's nice hard cock is that, sneaking into my pussy?"
"The loving prick of one of your admirers," Steve said, having trouble getting the words out. "Which one."
"Steve."
"Ooh," Betsy said. "Aah. Good. We fuck at last, mine host."
As if it mattered to Betsy whose cock was sliding into her, Toby thought. Her own pussy was tingling like crazy, now, but she was in control of herself. Of herself, she felt, and the whole situation.
Calm for the moment, Toby went back to watching.
Betsy wriggled her ass slightly, as if acknowledging an introduction. The little wriggle served to lodge the head of Steve's prick more deeply between her twat lips.
Without any further formalities, then, Steve sank the entire length of his rigid, super-willing cock into the slender blonde girl, in one deep, sure, plunging stroke. He's growing up fast, Toby thought. The lower part of his abdomen made a muffled slapping sound against the resilient round white mounds of Betsy's buttocks.
Betsy uttered one small scream, but it was a scream of sheer joy. She raised her hands and placed them on the back of the couch, for support, to brace herself for whatever was to come. Steve gripped her hipbones more firmly, and considerately moved her around slightly, to give the rest of them a better view of the proceedings.
Steve began to fuck her seriously, then, with long, deep, steady, machine-like strokes, sliding his stiff shaft out almost to the head, then slamming it back into her, to the grateful depths of her cunt, his balls slapping against the upper in-sides of her slender rounded ripe young thighs.
Betsy grunted and groaned with every in-plunging stroke, wriggling her ass with every withdrawal, as if to arrange a better fit. Steve never slackened his urgent tempo, withdrawing his wet glistening shaft and pounding it home again, deep into her hungering cunt, with a rapid, sure, steady fuck-rhythm.
Toby, sitting now in an easy chair, still watching them, began to cross and uncross her legs, squeezing her thighs together. Her cunt was on fire with frustration and excitement, and she felt her juices flowing without putting out any of the flame.
Kevin, the tall redheaded young man who had brought Betsy as his date, noticed Toby's condition. He got to his feet slowly, watching her.
"May I?" he asked shyly, as if asking a strange girl for a dance.
Toby smiled at him happily, sat up to lift her dress off over her head, and lay back in the chair, her legs spread wide.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She watched, with building excitement, as Kevin stepped, with maddening slowness, like a man in an underwater movie, toward her. When he reached her, finally, he got to his knees between her spread legs, and, without saying another word, leaned forward and began to gobble her cunt, licking, sucking, swallowing.
Just for openers, she thought, her hips starting to thrust, in greeting and in gratitude. But she was acutely aware of wanting more, much more.
She opened her eyes and looked around the room, over Kevin's busily bobbing head. Her gaze fell on Tommy, Steve's look-alike, who was standing, totally naked now, looking bewildered as his eyes focused first on Steve, busily humping Betsy from the rear, then on Kevin, just as frenziedly busy lapping and sucking Toby's eagerly up-thrusting cunt. His slender, rigid, innocent-looking white cock stood out from his body at an upward angle, looking strangely like some sort of tender shoot growing out of his lean young teenage body.
The steel-tempered slenderness of Tommy's yearning, poked-out prick, so lost-looking, gave
Toby an idea. A rapturously exciting idea. Now, if she could only get the idea across to Tommy.
Her bubbling pussy pumping greedily against Kevin's gorging mouth and tongue, she caught Tommy's eye, and smiled at him.
"Kevin," she said, pressing her fingers gently against his forehead, "we can't be selfish. There are others at the party."
The redhead took his mouth away from her cunt, regretfully.
"What do you want to do?" he asked, licking her cunt's moisture from his lips.
"You'll see," she said. She got up out of the chair and turned so her back was toward Tommy, then bent over, her legs apart. Betsy's position, she realized as she did it, but she, Toby, was no copy-cat. She was a girl with imagination, and the courage to indulge it. In the act of turning and bending, she noticed Roy, sitting on a hassock in his shorts, sipping his drink. If he had a hard-on, it wasn't visible in his neat blue undershorts. Playing it cool in front of the kids, Toby thought. The hell with old Roy, for the time being, anyway.
She looked at Tommy, with her face upside down, from between her spread legs.
"Tommy, would you like to try something a little on the exotic side?" she asked. "Are you game for some action kind of out of the ordinary?"
He was staring hard at Toby's luscious, ripe, rounded globes, the pink, open, vulnerable cunt below them, and, she hoped, at the tiny, puckered, neat, dusky pink-brown orifice half-hidden in the crevice.
Tommy caught on quickly.
"like you and Steve did, the other night?" he said, his voice cracking. She'd forgotten, for the moment, the rear-entrance episode with Steve at her place. "You'll let me fuck you in the ass?"
Let him? Ho. She didn't say anything, just held herself in that bent-over position, hoping her shadowed, modestly-situated ass-hole looked tempting to the frustrated boy. She wished, unreasonably, that she could make it smile encouragingly at the boy. Or wink, maybe.
"There's probably some Vaseline in the bathroom," Tommy said, starting in that direction.
"It won't be necessary," Toby said, crooking a beckoning finger at him from between her spread legs. She didn't want to bother to straighten up.
Tommy came toward her and walked around her, his stiff, slim, up-tilted cock seeming to look her right in the eye. Without wasting a moment, she took the head and most of the rigid slender shaft into her mouth, soaking it with her saliva. Nature's own Vaseline, she thought.
"There," she said. "Slide it in, Tommy. Stick it deep in my ass."
Awkwardly, hesitantly, Tommy moved around behind her, as she stayed bent over, wriggling her glorious ass temptingly. Toby stopped wriggling as she felt him place the hickory-hard, glistening wet head of his prick tentatively at the tiny, pursed aperture of her ass-hole.
She spread her legs wider, bracing her bare feet flat on the carpet, opening the cheeks of her ass further as he grasped her hips with his hands, and pushed, determinedly. All at once his hesitancy was gone. Eagerness had taken over. Eagerness, and the irresistible need of his lust-swollen, too-long-teased cock.
Toby groaned involuntarily as she felt his slender, hard, saliva-soaked cock slide deep into her ass, right to the hilt, with that one strong, eager stroke.
She reached around and put her hands behind his buttocks, holding him close, tight, deep inside her.
"Beautiful, Tommy. Your cock feels lovely, deep up inside me. But let's not be selfish, the way Kevin and I were, a minute ago."
"Selfish?" Tommy asked, mystified.
"Yes. Let's not be. Let's share the fucking. Let's lie down, on our sides. Slowly. Careful, now. Don't let your cock slip out, Keep your beautiful prick deep in there, all the way up my everlovin' ass.
Tommy didn't have to be cautioned. He kept his prick firmly, fondly imbedded in her ass-hole as they sank together to the rug.
Kevin, who had been watching the proceedings with intense interest and a swelling, impressive, awesomely angry-looking red hard-on, got the idea right away. He lowered himself to the floor and lay on his side, facing Toby. She raised her top leg high, opening her wet, pink, hungering cunt to him, to his swollen, explosive-looking cock.
He inserted it without hesitation or any trace of formality, and drove it deep into her impatiently-waiting, ultra-willing twat with one long, firm stroke. Then he held it still, resting against Tommy's taut rod through the thin slippery wall of sensitive membrane extending inside between Toby's tightly clutching ass-hole and cunt channel.
Writhing and squirming inside, between her wantonly widespread legs, Toby was filled with a churning excitement, as well as two hard, probing young pricks. But her busy mind had thought of more to add to her fuck-feast.
"Sam," she said to the blond boy, "bring your nice, willing cock over here."
Sam had been another naked woebegone spectator, sitting alone in a chair with his strong, sturdy-looking dong pointing toward the ceiling. Or toward heaven, maybe praying, Toby thought giddily. Well, she'd answer at least one of his prayers.
Moving with excited swiftness, Sam stood up from his chair and got down on the rug on his side, his legs partly between Kevin's torso and Toby's, his stiff, thick, crimson-brown cock touching the tip of Toby's nose. She reached up to hold the base of it with one hand, and took the purpling swollen head and about three inches of the stout pumping shaft into her mouth, in one long, deep, soft suck.
Toby was filled with joyous sensation, filled with cock, front, back and above. In her cunt, up her ass, in her mouth. Here, there, and everywhere, cock and more cock. Pumping, thrusting, fucking her from every direction. For a few excruciating seconds, it seemed to Toby like more than she could possibly stand.
Trying to distract herself, she devoted all her attention for a few moments to Sam's long-frustrated prick, licking and sucking it with consummate expertise, but impersonally, just because it was a thick, hard young cock. For those moments, she let the lower locations of her flaming fuck-delight take care of themselves.
With a lot of enthusiastic, humping help from Kevin and Tommy, the lower locations of her pleasure, her joyously active cunt and ass-hole, took care of themselves. The boys were team-fucking her, in beautiful unison, like a crew of rowers in a racing shell. Kevin, his slippery cock sliding ecstatically in and out of her clutching cunt, was rowing stroke, and Tommy, his slender up-curving prick-oar up her ass, matched Kevin's powerful strokes with precision as he put his back into it, ass-fucking her with noisy, buttock-slapping abandon. Thinking giddily of her crew-rowing metaphor, Toby thought she knew where the word "cockswain" came from.
She was getting silly, foolish, delirious with fuck-delight, she knew, and she wanted to laugh out loud. But she couldn't. Her mouth was filled, with hard, thrusting young cock. And very busy.
Licking, lapping, sucking, gobbling the cock in her mouth... feeling the plunging, probing, driving thrusts of the synchronized shafts in her bubbling cunt and up her splendidly reamed, ravaged ass-hole... hearing, in her ears and inside her head, the growing and receding waves of sound in the room... the grunts, gasps and groans of delight... Toby felt that her mind was melting. She was one great, palpitating mass of feeling, of sensation that transcended mere pleasure or fulfillment or even mortal ecstasy. If there was a heaven on earth, she felt, she was in it. She wanted to scream out her joy, but she couldn't.
Toby had no idea how long it lasted. Sam was the first to come, spurting gobs of warm sperm into the back of her throat. She swallowed, swallowed again, then licked and sucked his softening cock dry, using her hand to milk out the last pearly drop. But by then the movement of her mouth was automatic. All feeling, all sensation, was centered down below, keyed to the plunging, driving strokes of the oars of the tireless two-man crew.
Very soon after Sam's slackening, sated prick had slipped limply from her lips, Toby was at the quivering, screaming peak of orgasm. She could stand no more, she knew, without losing consciousness.
"Now," she gasped. "Kevin, Tommy, fuck, fuck, double-fuck me, now."
They raised the tempo of their fucking to a furious series of pounding plunges to the depths of her delirious cunt, the tight channel of her interior ass-hole. Toby exploded, and came, a series of silent thunderclaps inside her. She could hear her own gasps and groans, and was powerless to stop them.
Then Kevin and Tommy, with one last back-breaking stroke, crossed the finish line together; in Toby's head, the wild "cheering of the crowd echoed and re-echoed.
At the end, for the first time since their cocks had both been inside Toby, Kevin and Tommy broke their rhythm, and now their juices spurted raggedly, warmly, deep into her quivering insides, from two busy entrances.
While they were still spurting into her, Toby remembered Roy, who'd been sitting by so quietly, completely out of the action. She rolled her head, suddenly curious to see if all the activity was having any effect on the only adult male in the room.
It was having an effect, all right. Jesus, was it having an effect.
Filled abruptly with a wild new surge of excitement, Toby drew her ass-hole and her cunt swiftly, rudely, free of the two limp, friendly residing cocks, and scrambled to her feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY
She was too late.
Too late, that is, if she didn't want to be rude to Betsy, the tall, slender young blonde who'd come to the party as Kevin's date. Betsy had gotten to where Toby wanted to be, right this second, and Betsy had gotten there first.
Roy had a hard-on now, all right, and it was a thing of beauty. Toby hadn't appreciated how big Roy's cock was, that evening at her place, or maybe for some reason it was bigger, more swollen now. Now, it seemed to her a huge, magnificent brute of a brown, seasoned-looking cock. Maybe that was it. It had a veteran, heroic look about it.
Standing free, viewed from a distance of a few feet, it looked far more awesome than the other times she'd viewed it, so hastily, before her impatient, insatiable, ravenous cunt had gulped it in. Hugely erect, swollen, purpling hard, it seemed to dwarf the other cocks in the room, limp and diminished as they were by Toby's busy twat and mouth and ass-hole. And by Betsy's prime young pussy, which had evidently sucked the swelling from Steve's prick.
Roy was lying flat on his back on the rug, a few feet from the hassock he'd been perched on, his shaft extending upward, perpendicular from his dark thick bush, seeming to grow from it, like some kind of granite monument, marked and weathered by a century's storms, but still standing sturdily, for the ages. All ages.
And Betsy stood astride it.
Slender, wide-eyed, dewy-mouthed, dewy-pussied, Betsy posed for a long moment with one bare foot planted beside each of Roy's hips, looking at once ecstatically excited, defiant, and challenging. There was something commanding about the open slash of her cunt, vibrantly red now, reigning not only over Roy but over the whole room. And there was something queenly and commanding in the young girl's manner.
"I don't want you to do a damn thing," Betsy was saying, looking down into Roy's face. "Don't move a muscle, for now. We're about to fuck, my friend. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You understand? Your great big hard cock, fucked by my tight little twat, my juicy, cock-crazy cunt. I'll take care of all the fucking action, for both of us."
Roy folded his hands casually under the back of his head as a pillow, and smiled up at the tall tawny-blonde. Patronizingly, Toby thought. The bastard. Oh, the ungrateful bastard. After all, she'd called him, just those few nights ago, and if it hadn't been for her phone call, none of this would be happening. Bastard. Freshly fucked and reamed as she was, her cunt yearned for the feel of that great in-sliding shaft of thick oaken muscle.
Standing astride Roy as she was, Betsy's brightly glistening wet cunt seemed to flame in the middle of the dark-blonde luxuriance of her bush. Her openly pouting pussy, looking small and tight and tender and innocently young no longer, appeared to be suspended, supported precariously on those long, slender, dancer's legs, directly above the bursting purple head of Roy's patiently rigid prick. That monster-looking cock, Toby thought, trying to remember it in her cunt. This girl and her tight little twat have met their match.
Slowly, deliberately, seeming to tease herself as well as Roy, Betsy bent her knees and let herself-her lewdly open-lipped pussy first and foremost-down, in one long, tantalizing but unhesitating descent, until the wet open mouth of her visibly ravenous cunt engulfed the swollen apple-hard head of Roy's fearsome cock.
For just a fraction of a second, Toby experienced vicariously the shivering rapture of having that great probing monster of a cock fitting itself into her own wet, clutching, gulping cunt.
Toby squirmed, and found that she was sitting down in an easy chair; and that Sam's blond head was between her knees, his eyes on her face, questioningly.
"Go ahead," she said, smiling absently, looking back at Betsy and Roy fitting cunt to cock. "Eat my pussy, if that's what you're thinking about."
Without a pause, Sam leaned forward and began to eat her cunt, with deep, licking, sucking devotion. Toby raised her arms and laced her hands behind her head, abstractedly, to encourage his efforts. She let her legs spread wider, giving him more lapping room at the delicate flesh feast of her tender, pinkly moist, open pussy.
Toby watched, fascinated now, as Betsy's warm, wet, swallowing cunt made the long descent down Roy's monument of a shaft.
Then, all at once, Betsy appeared to go berserk, as if a jolt of electric current had shot through her, as if Roy's big cock were a plug in a socket. Suddenly, wildly, through the socket outlet of her cunt, Betsy was electrified.
Shuddering, the slender blonde closed her eyes, tight, squeezed shut, screamed, and gyrated her hips in a maddened circular motion, as if to escape the impaling, up-thrusting thick spear of Roy's cock. At the same time, her cunt, with a mind and a crazed need of its own, demanded a deeper, and deeper, and deeper penetration, a greater, stretching fulfilling.
Toby watched, quivering in her excitement, thrusting her hips and her cunt upward to take full advantage of the lively, searching probing tongue in her own streaming quim, as Roy lay back, his hips arched up from the floor and the entire thrusting length of his big prick at the complete disposal of Betsy's ravenous, gulping twat.
Toby could see that there was no possibility of his matching any kind of rhythm or stroke to
Betsy's crazy, mindless cunt-frenzied gyrations. Toby looked at the slim girl's normally lovely face. It was unrecognizable-the eyes squeezed shut as if in agony, the mouth twisted in a grotesque distortion of a grin, issuing groans and squeals that had no resemblance to any human sound.
Betsy kept raising her hips, without stopping her circular grinding motion, and, before Toby's astonished eyes, the girl's cunt lips would convulse visibly around Roy's thick, slippery shaft, clutching and squeezing the rock-hardness with a death grip around the swollen neck and throat. Betsy's throat writhed, too, the Adam's apple riding up and down in a series of insane gymnastics triggered by the messages of hysterical rapture sent up from cunt-control.
With her writhing, squirming, squealing, gyrating, grinding, pumping, thrusting histrionics, the blonde girl seemed to be in a state of perpetual orgasm, a cunt gone completely mad.
To Toby, experiencing her own pumping pussy's delight with the eager busy mouth sucking and lapping and devouring her own twat's tenderness, Roy's solid oaken shaft of a cock seemed to be an interested participant, but not much else, in Betsy's frenzied fucking. His cock was sort of a supporting member of the cast, Toby thought giddily. An umpire at a ballgame, a referee at a fight. While Betsy's electric, all-engulfing, all-devouring, cock-crazed cunt was the spotlight attraction. The star of the show.
And the boys who were not occupied as Sam was, pleasuring himself between Toby's luscious legs with the gourmet's delight of her juicy, tender, delicately up-thrusting pink pussy, were arranged in a ragged semi-circle, staring in tense fascination at the bizarre fuck-festival before them.
Thrusting her own cunt upward against Sam' mouth with an almost methodical rhythm, Toby watched Betsy's paroxysms of frenzied delight around Roy's staunch shaft, and thought, when God made this girl, he made a cunt. An ultimate cunt. A cunt to end all cunts. The rest of Betsy was just an after-thought. A beautifully-wrought afterthought, but just an afterthought.
Roy rolled his head, looked at Sam suckin Toby's pumping, cooperating cunt, and grinned It was almost as if he was a spectator, too Watching the bobbing blond head of the boy lap ping and gobbling Toby's delicately thrusting pussy, his grin broadened and he looked into Toby's face.
"I bet Betsy's never had anything like that bi cock of yours in her tight little twat," Toby said but it came out in a gasp toward the end, as Sam's tongue seemed to find an exposed nerve in her squirming twat. Roy put a finger to his lips.
"Ssh," he said. "You're liable to wake the baby."
"Fat fucking chance," Toby said, her hips undulating, her cunt gently embracing the plunging tongue, her legs squeezing the blond boy's head, lovingly. "Betsy's in another world. Or in heaven, maybe."
Betsy was emitting a series of gasping shrieks now as she made regular pumping trips up and down Roy's thrusting shaft. His hips, Toby noticed, were arched up off the floor now.
Suddenly Toby wanted something substantial in her own cunt, something solider than a tongue. She put her fingers to the forehead between her thighs, and pushed gently. The wet mouth came up for air. The eyes were questioning, again.
"Fuck me," she said simply. "I love the way you lap my cunt, but it's your nice, stiff young cock I want now. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."
Toby got up and stepped over to the vacant couch, lay back with her legs spread wide again, her knees raised, and Sam mounted her without wasting a second.
His rigid, swollen cock slid in easily, into the urgent welcome of her almost-steaming twat. Her legs enclosed his hips, and she drove her cunt up tight against the base of his pelvis, squirming, grinding. She'd give this nice young friend the fucking of his lifetime, Toby thought. The fucking of his evening, anyway.
But it was over almost before it began. She'd been too stirred up, too ready, her impatient pussy ready to explode. She began to come in a series of trip hammer spasms, and felt her twirling cunt-cavern bathed with Sam's instantly answering, spurting balm.
Sam had been too worked up, too, she thought dimly, lying back and letting the spasms start to subside.
But relaxing wasn't easy, at that moment. Betsy's time had come, too.
The girl's thin screams of crazed delight rang out, tearing at Toby's tired eardrums.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
For some strange reason, after the Roy-Betsy extravaganza, the life had gone out of the party.
First Sam and Tommy left, making some mumbled apologies about having to go somewhere.
Then Kevin and Betsy left, politely enough, but showing signs of strain between them.
Then Roy, looking as if the effort of getting dressed had been almost too much for him, made aimless, limping conversation for a few minutes, attempted a couple of feeble jokes, then gave up, to sheer fatigue, Toby thought. He didn't even say good-night, just waved a weary farewell as he went out the door.
Toby had slipped back into her dress somewhere during the departures, and the wearing of that token concession to modesty seemed to bring her back to reality, or at least to some of the mundane aspects of it.
"I'll help you clean the place up, before your folks get back," Toby said to Steve. He'd made a token gesture toward convention, too. He'd gotten back into his shorts, damply stained though they were.
"That's nice of you," Steve said, looking around the big quiet room. "But there's nothing to clean up. Nothing to do, really." Toby laughed.
"You just don't see anything to do," she said, moving around the room, putting pillows back in place, picking up empty glasses and beer cans.
"Oh," Steve said, and started to follow her around, looking useless.
"Never mind," Toby said. "Just sit down, out of the way. I'll be finished in a couple of minutes."
Steve did as he was told. But he didn't look tired, Toby noticed, when she had a chance to glance at him when he didn't know she was looking. He probably wasn't tired at all, Toby realized. He'd been involved in a lot less action than the others. All he'd done was fuck Betsy, once, period. And that had been back during the beginning of the party's confused and frenetic festivities.
Toby emptied and cleaned the ashtrays, rinsed and dried the glasses, feeling relaxed and cheerful, padding contentedly on bare feet back and forth between living room and kitchen.
When she'd finished the chores she sat down next to Steve on the couch, gave his bare tanned knee a fond pat, and smiled up at him.
"Everything's in good shape now," she said. "Your folks'll never know you had company."
"They won't be home for quite a while yet, anyway," he said, and looked at her with something that appeared to be sadness. It was in his eyes, mostly.
"What's wrong, Steve?" she asked, letting her hand fall fondly to his knee again.
"I don't know."
"Sure you know. Tell me."
"Well." He shrugged his lean bare shoulders. "That was a pretty crazy kind of cocktail party, wasn't it?"
"A bucket of eels," she said, remembering.
"You couldn't hardly tell the players without a score card," Steve said, not smiling.
"Is that what's bothering you? The crazy mixed-up party?"
"Maybe. Partly."
"Well, it shouldn't. People should do whatever gives them pleasure, at the moment, and not worry about how outrageous it may look, to others. As long as what they do doesn't hurt anybody else."
She sounded like a goddam Sunday School teacher, for Christ's sake, Toby thought. Time to shut up. Her time for teaching the young was over, for good. And much better forgotten, for good.
"I said it was partly the party," Steve said, looking at her seriously. "But only partly."
"What else, then."
"Me."
"Yes. You."
"I don't understand," Toby said, leaning forward to light a cigarette. The young were full of mystifying notions, as well as surprises.
When she leaned back, she found that Steve had lifted his arm so it draped around her shoulders. Awkwardly, somehow. like a high school boy on his first date. And Steve was hardly on his first date, with her. Something was bothering him, badly.
Toby was, all at once, deeply curious to find out just what. But Steve wasn't saying anything. He was just sitting there, close to her, looking sad, with that clumsy arm around her shoulders.
"Why don't you tell me about it, honey?" she asked. The term of endearment had just slipped out, a complete surprise to her, but it had sounded quite natural. And, unintentional though it had been, it seemed to have done something for Steve. Gave him his voice back, anyway.
'Well, to begin with," Steve said, his eyes steady on her face, "I like you very much. But I don't have to tell you that."
"No, you don't," Toby said, feeling an unusual stirring of warmth in her chest somewhere. "But I'm happy to hear you tell me. I like you a lot, too, you know."
"I didn't know, not really," Steve said, dropping his eyes for a second. "Anyway, seeing you with those other guys..."
He didn't finish.
"Oh, oh," Toby said.
"What's that mean?"
"I hate to tell you," Toby said. "A swinging member of the jet-age generation, like you."
"Tell me anyway."
'What you're talking about is an old-fashioned thing called jealousy. Not just old-fashioned. Obsolete. Archaic. You know that. You've heard enough, or seen enough, or at least you've read enough, to know that."
"I do know it," Steve said. "In my head, anyway. It's just that the rest of me doesn't seem to know it."
Toby was quiet for a long moment, thinking.
"I don't know what to tell you," she said softly, at last. "What you were seeing was sex, pure and simple. Or maybe sometimes complex sex, not so simple. But it was just sex, sex for sensation, and absolutely for nothing else. Purely for pleasure."
"I know all that," Steve said. "In my head, anyway, I know all that."
"And what you're talking about is that old-fashioned jealousy, and I'm afraid that jealousy has its roots sunk in something deeper than simple, surface sex, sex for the sake of sensation."
"You're right," Steve said, looking at her steadily again. "You know you're right, and I know you're right. But just the same I didn't like it at all, watching you with those other guys."
"Steve, dear," she said, leaning more warmly into the curve of his arm, looking at him earnestly, "when you get sex mixed up with your emotions, when you confuse sexual pleasure, you're in trouble. You can give yourself a lot of grief, that way."
"I suppose so," Steve said, looking away, somber and sad. But he straightened up, after a moment, and looked at her cheerfully.
"You know something?" he asked, smiling now.
"What?"
"We've never been alone together, just you and I. Never before."
"That's right."
"This is the first time."
"Mmmmm."
"I like it, being alone together, just the two of us," Steve said. "So do I."
Steve leaned and kissed her, very tenderly, at first, and Toby kissed him back, warmly. She felt his tongue moving into her mouth then, and her own tongue flicked to meet it. Their tongues dueled for a moment, then probed, then wrestled. There was nothing tender about the kiss, any more. It became searingly urgent.
She felt his hand slide into the front of her dress, cup one lively breast. She felt the nipple stiffen, and let her free hand brush his lap. Aah, she'd known it. He had a raging hard-on.
She broke the kiss, smiling. Her twat tingled, but she was tingling other places, too.
But even now, feeling as strangely warm to this boy as she did, she had to tease a little. If only for a minute. It was part of her make-up.
"Would you like to put that nice hard young cock where it'll do the most good?" she whispered. "The most good, for the both of us?"
"Silly question," he said, in a choked voice, freeing a breast to suck the hard, puckered nipple.
"Slide it into my juicy cunt?"
He didn't answer. He was too busy, his mouth sucking, his hand sliding slowly up in the warm welcome of the soft, luscious flesh of her opening thighs.
"Would you like to fuck me now?" she breathed. "A nice, old-fashioned fuck, just the two of us?"
"Let's go into my room," he said, standing abruptly, then taking her hand to help her to her feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Toby shed her dress on the way to Steve's room, and dropped it on the floor as she threw back the spread on the wide, soft double bed. They treated him well, Steve's parents, she thought. Well, so did she. Very few growing boys ever got so much as a peek at a prime pussy like hers, a jubilant, juicy, joyous pussy, ready for anything, any time. Very few boys got to see such a prize pussy, a captivating cunt like hers, and fewer still got to loss such a cunt, slide their cocks into it, feel its tender, squeezing softness, get the kind of all-out, expert, grown-up fucking she was giving Steve.
"What're you doing, anyway?" Steve said, from the middle of the bed.
"Thinking," she said.
"About what?"
"About doing something different."
"I thought we were going to have a nice, old-fashioned fuck," Steve said. His swollen, reddened cock poked impatiently toward the ceiling.
"Sure we are," Toby said, but she was remembering Betsy. Betsy and Roy.
She stepped up onto the bed and stood with her legs apart, squarely astride Steve's face, her pussy on open display.
"Sure we're going to have a nice, old-fashioned fuck, Steve," she said. "But I thought maybe first you'd like to play a little nice, old-fashioned sixty-nine."
"Sure," Steve said, staring up at the pink open slit of her cunt above him. Toby saw his tongue appear, licking his lips in anticipation of that fur-framed, tender morsel of moist, responding twat.
She lowered herself, letting her cunt down directly on Steve's open mouth.
"Aah," she said, as his tongue plunged in and began probing and licking. "Do you love my cunt, Steve? Do you love to lick and lap my hot wet cunt?"
"Mmmmmm," Steve said, muffing away. All at once, Toby wanted something in her own mouth, and swung around on the bed, reversing her position to get Steve's rigid cock deep into her own mouth.
"Mmmmm," Steve groaned, again, adjusting his mouth to fit her streaming, smothering twat in the new, age-old sixty-nine position.
Occasionally, as Steve licked and sucked her squirming cunt, she felt his nose prodding into the soft crevice of her ass. It tickled. So did the head of his cock, she was aware, when she sucked it especially deep, in the back of her throat. Enough of this foolishness, she thought. She never should have started it. She was just trying to get away from all the sentiment Steve was building up to, out on the living room couch.
"Now, Steve," she said, and gave the underside of his cock one last loving lick. "Now. That old-fashioned fuck we were talking about."
Almost without knowing how, she was flat on her back on the bed, her legs spread, and Steve was arched over her.
Tenderly, fondly, she took the straining hard head of his cock and inserted it between the wet open lips of her all-but-bubbling cunt. And as the hard shaft slid deep into her softly clutching cunt-channel, something very strange happened. She relaxed, completely. All her earlier frenzy was miraculously gone.
"Easy, Steve," she whispered, and pulled his head down to kiss his lips. "Easy, baby. It's lovely this way. Lovely."
It was a long, slow, delicious fuck. Until the very end.
When she felt the end coming, she drew Steve down toward her, and made him he flat against her body, his hard chest pressing her breasts almost flat. Then she brought her legs together, closing her squeezing cunt tight around his hard, thrusting cock, capturing it, making it her own.
Now, with his whole weight on her, with Toby's cunt imprisoning his shuttling prick at an angle almost parallel to his own humping body, Steve began to drive it deeply up into her tight-squeezed cunt, thrusting with a young fury like nothing she had ever felt before.
She felt her own hips responding, humping frantically, in some insane rhythm that seemed to match perfectly with Steve's own crazed, plunging cock. She heard Steve gasping with every stroke, and got her fingers behind his shoulders, raking his back. But it was nothing compared to the wonderful raking his cock was giving the quivering walls of her ecstatic, quivering cunt.
Then she was screaming, babbling. "Fuck, Steve, fuck me deep. Fuck my hot juicy cunt, with your big beautiful hard cock. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck." She felt as if her insides were coming apart, as she came, and came, and came, and she felt Steve coming with her, in a series of blasting gushes.
Steve's cock was still gushing inside her when she heard the bedroom door open. She twisted her head sideways. It was the only part of her body she could move.
A tall, grim-faced man stood in the doorway, staring at them out of eyes that glinted like sheer ice in the dim light. A woman behind him stared, too, peering fixedly around his shoulder.
"I didn't know you had company, Steve," he said, and his voice sounded like breaking glass. "Put your clothes on. Both of you."
He took a wooden step backward, and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
She was still shaking as she walked into the living room, keeping her eyes straight ahead, stepped into her shoes, scooped up her handbag, and headed for the door.
She felt, rather than saw, Steve's father follow her out to the hall. She heard him close the door behind him, hesitated, then stopped in her tracks, without turning around.
"One minute, young lady," Steve's father said.
She turned and faced him. There was absolutely nothing else she could think of to do. She couldn't run. She wasn't a thief. And she wasn't a child. She was a grown woman.
"How old are you, Miss?" he asked. "Twenty-two? Twenty-three?" His voice sounded a little more human than it had sounded in the bedroom. But only a little.
"I'm twenty-six," she said, lifting her chin.
"You look younger."
"Well, I'm twenty-six," she repeated. She had stopped shaking. She was glad of that, anyway.
"Well," he said, his voice softening a little, "I'm tempted to say, 'Old enough to know better.' But I won't."
"I'm glad of that," she said. "There's not much else to be glad about."
"What's your name?"
She told him. Why not? He'd get it out of Steve, one way or another. "Where do you work?"
She told him that, too. What did he think she was, a whore or something?
"Do you know how old my son is?"
"No," Toby said. "I didn't ask to see his birth certificate."
"Don't..." he started to say, then stopped. "Steve's only sixteen."
"He looks older," Toby said. It was a silly thing to say. But anything she said sounded silly, or stupid. Or both.
"Well, he isn't. He's sixteen, and distinctly a minor."
"He's a big boy now," Toby said, defiantly. "Not to me, he isn't," Steve's father said. "And in the eyes of the law, he isn't." Oh, Jesus, Toby thought. The law. "How did you meet my son, anyway."
"What does that matter?"
"It matters to me. And it isn't just idle curios-ity.
Toby thought a minute. She'd met Steve through Roy, of course. His uncle. What a mess that would be, if she told Steve's father. A whole big family mess. Worse for Steve. Ten times worse for Roy.
"I can't tell you," she said, finally.
"You mean you won't."
"All right. I won't."
"Why not?"
"Never mind," she said. "I just won't."
"Well find out anyway," Steve's father said, his voice hard again. "Not from me."
"From you, if we have to. The courts will get it out of you."
"The courts?' Toby said, taking in a deep, sudden, shuddering breath. "What are you talking about?"
"You're twenty-six, right?"
"I just told you that. Twenty-six."
"And Steve is sixteen."
"You just told me that."
"Well," he said, "maybe you don't realize it, but you're guilty of corrupting the morals of a minor."
"Corrupting..." she started to say, and closed her mouth hard. It was a long moment before she opened it again.
"I know you're upset," she said, trying to sound adult and reasonable. She noticed that his forehead was beaded with sweat. That helped. He was human, anyway. "You have every right to be upset. But as far as taking this tiling to court-that's just plain crazy."
"You'll be hearing from us," he said, and turned to open the apartment door. "You'll be hearing from us. Young lady," he repeated, with what she supposed was irony. He shut the door hard behind him.
He was bluffing, she thought, moving slowly toward the elevator. Trying to scare her. If he wasn't bluffing, he was just plain crazy.
But her hand was shaking as she reached out a finger toward the elevator button.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Toby had a terrible time trying to sleep that night. She was still wide awake when the sky began to lighten, outside the windows.
When her radio-alarm woke her, she was sure she hadn't had two hours' sleep, and what sleep she had had been nightmare ridden. As she got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, one of the nightmares was still too real in her mind. In it she was in prison, doing some land of vague hard labor, hampered by heavy chains. Everybody wore chains, in the nightmare, even the guards. She hated the work, she hated the chains, she hated the other prisoners, and she despised the food, and despised the clothes even more.
About the warden in her nightmare prison, she had mixed feelings. The warden was a granite-faced enigma to her.
The warden was Steve's father. Mr. Shannon. Warden Shannon. He was the only one in the whole dream who didn't wear stripes.
Once in the shower, she felt minutely better. The stinging spray washed away the nightmare, at least. A shower usually made her feel better, but on most mornings she felt a lot better to start with, before she even stepped under the spray.
Coffee helped, too. She kept shaking her head, trying to shake away the memory of Steve's father's face framed in the bedroom doorway, trying to tell herself that was all part of the nightmare, too. But it wouldn't work. The memory of the whole party, and the grim curtain scene particularly, were too vividly real. Toby had the uneasy feeling that that bedroom scene would be etched in her memory for a long time to come.
She shook herself-it was getting to be a habit-put her empty coffee cup in the sink, and made herself start going through the motions of getting dressed.
For the third consecutive day, she got into a dress. But this time not because she felt good, or excited, or up in any way, or horny. Today she put on a dress because it was the easiest thing to get into.
It was a very busy morning for her at the office, which was a good thing. Toby didn't have too much time to brood over her troubles, over Mr. Shannon's threat. By eleven o'clock she had been so furiously busy for a stretch that she actually stopped thinking for a while about her real nightmare of the evening, before her dream nightmare of the early morning hours.
And then the phone rang.
"Miss Fetters?" the voice asked, when she'd answered. She knew the voice right away, even over the phone. Nobody else in the world would call her "Miss-Fetters," anyway. That was enough of a clue. Her nightmares, both the real one and the dream one, came back in a rush. In spades.
"Yes," she said, suddenly sounding very old and very weary, to her own ears.
"Paul Shannon." He sounded quite crisp and business-like, this morning.
"Yes, Mr. Shannon." She hesitated. "I recognized your voice right away. I'm afraid it's a voice I'll never be able to forget."
"Well, maybe there's a way you can forget it."
'What's that?"
"Tell me how you met Steve. My son. My sixteen year-old-son."
"I know which son you mean, Mr. Shannon," Toby said, coldly formal.
"Yes. Of course you do. I want to know how you met him."
"I know you do. But why?"
"I just do. And I can give you one good reason why you should tell me."
"What's that?"
"If you tell me, I'll consider not going to the police. I'll consider dropping the whole ugly thing. If you don't tell me . .. . "
He let the silence hang there.
She'd never tell him, Toby thought desperately. She couldn't. Roy and Steve...
But she needed time to think. She could stall him a while. And if there ever was a girl who knew how to stall, it was Toby Fetters. Unflappable, Unruffled Fetters.
"I have another call, Mr. Shannon," she said. "May I call you back, when I have a few minutes free?"
"All right," he said. He was reasonable, at least. He gave her his office number.
"But be sure you do call back," he said. "You wouldn't like the kind of clothes you have to wear behind bars."
God, Toby thought. The man had been reading her nightmares.
"I'll call back," she said. "It may be this afternoon, but I'll call you, before the day is out."
"Good enough," Paul Shannon said.
Her hand was trembling once more, she noticed, as she dropped the phone back in its cradle.
Cradle, she thought. The cradle snatcher.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A plan started to form in her mind even as she took her hand away from the phone.
But she'd need help, with the plan. A willing accomplice.
Who? He'd have to be very willing, and she'd have to give him a good reason to be willing. That part was easy enough, but who?
And then she had her accomplice. The thought struck her so hard it straightened her up in her chair.
Roy Horlick. Horny Horlick, who'd gotten her into this whole mess in the first place. Paul Shannon's own brother-in-law, Paul Shannon's own wife's brother.
Why hadn't she thought of him in the first place? He was up to his navel in this thing, even if he didn't know it yet. His navel? He was in this thing up to the base of his big cock, that's what he was in it up to.
Minutely pleased with herself, Toby looked up Roy's office number in the Manhattan phone book.
She had no trouble reaching him. Once she'd given the switchboard his name, she didn't even have a, secretary to contend with. Roy answered the phone himself. "Toby, here," she said.
"Well," he said, sounding suddenly cheerful. "A happy surprise."
"Not so happy, when you hear about it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Has your brother-in-law called you since the party yesterday, or your sister?"
"No," Roy said. "Of course not. Why?"
"I'll tell you why, at lunch."
"Jesus, Toby," Roy said, sounding pained. "Any other time at all, but I can't make it for lunch with you today. I have a date. A business date."
"Break it," Toby said. "What we're having lunch about isn't exactly frivolous. We're in trouble, both of us. It can be very bad trouble, if we don't get our heads together real quick."
"But what.. . "
"I'll tell you all about it at lunch. You know where Joe and Maria's is, over on Third Avenue."
"Sure."
"Be there at twelve, or as soon after as you can make it without getting hit by a cab."
"You sound a little desperate, Toby," Roy said, sounding faintly confused, himself.
"I am a lot desperate," Toby said. "Soli you be, after I tell you what I have to tell you."
"I'll be there," Roy said.
"Good," Toby said. "Between us, we may be able to stave off disaster." As soon as she'd hung up on Roy, she picked up the phone again and called Steve's father. Paul Shannon. She'd have to remember he had a name other than 'Steve's father.'
Even Shannon's secretary sounded grim, but she let Toby through to her boss. Grudgingly, but without too much delay.
"Toby Fetters again," she said. "I can't talk to you very well, from here in the office.
"I can understand that," Paul Shannon said. "Unless it's a very unusual office you work in."
"I'll tell you what you want to know, but you see I can't right now."
"When, then? I'm just holding off from calling the police, you know. My wife wanted to do it right away."
"Can you meet me after work?"
He was quiet for a moment, evidently debating with himself, weighing the question. He didn't trust her, one damn bit, Toby thought.
"I suppose so," he said, finally. "Where do you want to meet."
"My place."
"What!"
'Well, I'll be glad to meet you any place you say. But I was thinking of you. I didn't think you'd want to be seen in my company, out in pub-he. Where someone you know might see us together."
"You're a bright girl, aren't you."
"Never mind that."
"Where is your place?"
She told him. Slowly and carefully, so he could write it down.
"I'll be home by five-thirty," she said. "All right," he said. "I'll try to get there before six or so."
Good, she thought. Things were looking up. "Just one thing," she said, quickly, to catch him before he hung up. "Yes?"
"like they say in all those movies, come alone."
"Of course I'll come alone," Shannon said. "Who'd I want to bring with me, on a mission like this? I want to get to the bottom of this. And I don't really want to put you in jail."
"I thought you might think of bringing along a cop, or a lawyer, or somebody like that."
"No," Shanon said. "I'll be alone. As I told you, I want to get to the bottom of this."
You'll get to the bottom of it, all right, Toby thought as she hung up. If things worked out the way they should work out.
And if Roy cooperated, the whole screwy plan would work.
Would work? It had to work.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Roy was waiting for her at the bar when she got to Joe and Maria's. Evidently the real urgency in her voice had gotten through to him, over the phone.
Without wasting any time with amenities, they settled down at a table at the back of the restaurant, and Toby filled him in on everything that had happened at the Shannon's the night before, from the time that he'd left. She spared him none of the details.
"Christ," he said, when she'd finished. "You poor kid."
"Steve's the poor kid," she said. "I'm supposed to be a big girl now."
"That doesn't make it any better for you."
'Well, what'll make it better for me is if you'll help me, with the plan I have."
She told him, in detail. She took some satisfaction from the telling. It was so sure-fire. So foolproof. So absolutely perfect.
But Roy looked more and more uncomfortable as her plot unfolded. When she was finished, he looked steadily at her, through a long moment of silence.
Then he shook his head. "I can't do it," he said. "What!"
"I just can't. It's not that I don't want to. I'd do it if I could, for your sake and for mine. But I can t.
"Why not, for Christ's sake?" She'd had a premonition of something like this, but she hadn't been able to think of any reason why. Any reason why Roy wouldn't be glad, or at least willing, to help her. Help them both.
"Don't you see? Suppose something went wrong, just a little bit wrong. And Paul saw me. Just a glimpse. Just for a fraction of a second, out of the corner of his eye. He'd recognize me instantly. His own brother-in-law. And the whole goddamn family'd be torn apart. Forever, and eighteen days beyond."
Thinking now, calmly, Toby's anger subsided as quickly as it had flared up. Roy was right. Roy couldn't help, in this perfect plot of hers. Anybody else in the world could help, anybody who was willing. But not Roy. He was practically the only person in the world who couldn't help, no matter how much he wanted to.
"You're right, Roy," she said, very calmly. "You just can't do it. I must have been a little crazy, thinking you could."
"I'm glad you see it that way, Toby. And there's nothing wrong with your plot. It's practically perfect. Except that we have to find somebody else to help you. Because it can't be me."
She was minutely encouraged by the 'we'. Roy recognized that he was in this thing as deeply as she was.
I'll think of somebody," she said, pushing the linguine around her plate with her fork. "I'll have to think of somebody, quick."
I'll think, too," Roy said. "There's got to be someone who'll do it. When I come up with something, I'll call you, right away."
"Do that," she said.
Keep your cool, girl, she told herself. Unruffled Fetters.
She found that somebody, practically dropped into her lap, around three o'clock that afternoon.
Ralph had just stopped, on his mailroom rounds, for one of his frequent little social visits. And when she saw him standing there beside her desk the shock of her sudden inspiration made her lose her cool so violently for a second that she dropped the envelope in her hand.
Grinning hungrily, Ralph feasted his eyes on her bare tanned knees as she bent to pick the envelope up.
"Ralph," she said quietly, pitching her voice so no one around could hear. "You could do me a big favor."
"Swim the Atlantic Ocean for you?" he said, still grinning. "Any time."
"I said a big favor," she said.
He saw how deadly serious she was, and stopped grinning. He stepped closer.
"Anything," he said quietly.
"I'll do anything you like, later," she said, giving him a long, level look. "In payment."
"Not necessary," he said. "But I wouldn't turn it down, whatever you have in mind. I'd love it."
"Good," she said. "Can you get hold of a camera somewhere, this afternoon? A good one, that works? With flash equipment, and everything you need for quick, simple, efficient indoor photography?"
"Sure," he said. "I have it in my locker, in the mailroom."
She looked at him, surprised. It was too good to be true.
"It's my hobby," he said, then grinned at her. "One of them."
"So you know how to use a camera," she said. "Wonderful."
"Fill me in," Ralph said.
She filled him in on the whole plot, swiftly but thoroughly. She didn't give him all the reasons for the bind she was in, the details of the evening before, but he didn't need to know all that. And he'd figure out enough of it by himself. He was over seven. And Ralph was anything but dense. There wasn't a dumb bone in his head.
"Got it?" she said, when she'd finished. She was writing her address and apartment number on a pad. She couldn't take any chances on any slipup.
"Got it all," Ralph said. He looked very pleased, she noticed. Well, any growing boy with a sense of adventure would like being part of a conspiracy like this one.
"You won't have any trouble, getting away so early, before the chores are done?"
"No sweat," he said. "Jayll be glad to cover for me. And I can come back, to help him finish up."
"Good," she said. "Jay earns my gratitude, too. Tell him. I'll do him a favor or two."
"I'll tell him," Ralph said. "Hell be more than pleased. He'd swim some oceans for you, too, you know."
"It's nice to have friends," Toby said, and meant it. From the bottom of her heart. And from the bottom of anything else she had. She was feeling better already. Much better. Maybe she'd even call Roy, and reduce his nervous sweats a little.
She took her downstairs key and her apartment key off her key chain, and handed them to Ralph, along with the slip of memo paper on which she'd penciled her address.
"Let yourself into my place before five-thirty," she said, "just in case my pigeon shows up early. like, if he's outside when I get home, hell be coming up the stairs with me. You'll hear that there's somebody with me. So just leave the door open, and get out of sight. I told you where."
"If you get there alone?"
"That's the way it'll probably be. Just let me in. Then you can go into concealment when baby comes."
"Cool," Ralph said, giving her a small wave of the hand as he headed for the mailroom.
She felt so much better she couldn't wait for the afternoon to end.
Not just better. Filled with excitement, and anticipation. like a kid going to bed on the night before Christmas.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
There was no sign of Paul Shannon out in front of her building when she got there, around five-twenty. She hurried up the four flights of stairs, and Ralph opened the door of her apartment to let her in.
"I just got here a minute ago," he said, handing her the keys. He had a large camera bag hanging from one shoulder. "I guess we're all ready for your guest. I am, anyway."
"So'm I," Toby said. "Any time he gets here. Would you like a drink or something?"
"Not now," Ralph said. "No sense cluttering up the place. Might make him suspicious. I'll just sit here with you and wait."
They didn't have long to wait. It was only a few minutes after five-thirty when the doorbell sounded, from the lobby. Toby pressed the downstairs buzzer, to let the man in, and showed Ralph to the closet.
"I'll leave the door open a crack, so I'll know when to catch the action," Ralph said, making a place for himself among the hanging garments.
"I hope you won't be too uncomfortable, in there," she said. "I don't think you'll have to be waiting too long." She reached out with one hand, before pushing the door almost-closed, and gave his limber cock an affectionate squeeze, as a sort of thank-you, and as a promise of a bigger thank-you to come.
Toby was holding the apartment door open as Paul Shannon reached the top of the last flight of stairs. He was breathing hard.
"I can understand what keeps you in shape," he said, as he came through the door. "Maybe I'd be better off with stairs where I live."
He turned, in the middle of the room, to face her, and she looked back at him, without saying anything.
He looked much younger than he'd looked to her the night before, and much less grim. He was a man in his early forties, Toby judged, tall, not gray, and not at all fat. A good-looking man, and right now he looked uncomfortable. You couldn't blame him for that. He was in an awkward scene. Well, he'd forced the scene himself. Toby would have been more than glad to forget the whole thing, last night. Forget it forever.
The silence, as they stood looking at each other, became awkward for both of them.
"Would you like a drink?" Toby asked.
"This isn't exactly a social visit," Paul Shannon said, unsmiling. Toby realized that she'd never seen him smile, and maybe never would.
"I know it isn't a social visit," Toby said, "but a drink might make it a little more civil. Would help, anyway. Scotch and water ah right?"
"Well..." lie said, as if debating whether to unbend that much, "well, fine." After another moment's hesitation, he sat down at one end of the couch.
After she'd made the drinks she handed him one and went around the room, turning on lamps, before she sat down in the easy chair facing him, and crossed her legs. His eyes took in that lively display of sumptuous, curving, bare tanned flesh, then with an obvious effort, he tore his eyes away. No man who could see, and had all his other faculties, could not stare yearningly any time Toby crossed her legs.
"Well..." he said, and leaned forward, waiting, evidently, for her to start talking, telling him what he wanted to know.
"Well..., " Toby said, and leaned back deeper into her chair, her short skirt slipping up to the termination of her ripe, gently swelling upper thighs. From where Paul Shannon sat, Toby knew, it would seem to him that there was nothing else in the room to look at but her luscious legs.
He tried bravely not to look, but it was a losing battle.
"You were going to tell me," he said, "how you met my son Steve."
"Let me ask you something first."
"Go ahead."
He took a deep swallow of his drink. It gave him something to focus on other than Toby's legs. She re-crossed them, slowly, casually, giving him a long, unhurried look up between her soft, shadowed, mouth-watering inner thighs. It was a gorgeous view, a spectacular sight for any man, Toby knew. She was not wearing pants.
But he couldn't be quite sure of that, yet, the way she'd kept her legs moving.
"What I'd like to know, Mr. Shannon, is this: If you found out how I met Steve, if I told you, I mean, and your finding out meant nothing but grief to you and your wife, and maybe to your whole family, would you still insist on knowing?"
He stared at her.
"Of course I have to know. I don't know what kind of supposition you're suggesting, but it sounds like something mysterious you've just dreamed up. Yes, I want to know."
"Look at it this way," Toby said. "Steve won't tell you, will he?"
"No."
"Did he tell you why he won't say how he met me."
"No."
"He doesn't want to tell you for the same reason I don't want to tell you. For your own good. Yours and your wife's own good, and the rest of the family's, too. Believe me, finding out how Steve and I met will only bring you grief. You're much better off not knowing."
Toby noticed then that his forehead was sweating, as it had been the night before. But for a different reason, she knew. He had just given up trying to keep his eyes off her. He stared, then drained his drink in a gulp.
"I'll make you a fresh one," she said, and got up, jiggling and bobbing, and took his glass.
When she brought him the new drink, she bent over, far over, to hand it to him, her bouyant breasts swaying freely, openly for him to see in their full, snowy, pink-tipped glory within the non-concealment of the loose, low, gaping bodice of her dress.
"I'll say one thing for Steve," he said, sounding faintly desperate as he sucked at his drink. "He sure picked out a lovely girl when he spotted you." , "Why, thank you," Toby said. She kicked off her shoes, brought the coffee table closer, and put both bare feet up on it.
She watched as his eyes focused on the soft shadowed undersides of her bare thighs. She moved her knees slightly, bringing the shadowy pink ribbon of her cunt openly into his view, under the fallen-away hem of her miniskirt.
"Well?" she asked, smiling at him.
He didn't say anything. He just stared.
She let her knees come slightly apart, feeling the moistening lips of her pussy part. Paul Shannon stared in fascination at the glistening pink delicacy of her moistly opening, blossoming twat.
"Well?" Toby said, again.
Paul Shannon only groaned, and looked at the ceiling. But he couldn't keep his eyes up there for more than two seconds.
She moved her knees farther apart, giving him a wide-open view between the softly tanned swell of her upper thighs, at the widely parted, dusky-pink cunt lips framing the bright pink wet tenderness between.
"Oh, God," Paul Shannon said.
"like the looks of it?" Toby asked.
"Oh, God," he said again.
"Tell me truthfully," Toby said softly, "wouldn't you like to kiss it?"
He groaned.
"It'll kiss you back," she whispered, trying to keep her face straight. "I'll make it open its lips and lass you back."
He wrenched his eyes upward again.
"Just one little lick?"
His tongue was moving across his lips, his eyes casting wildly about the room. But always coming back to the bright pink magnet of her moist open cunt in its dark background of crisp curls.
"No," he moaned, from somewhere deep in his throat
"I'll open it up for you."
"No," he croaked.
"Make it easier."
"No."
"Tastier."
"No."
"Tenderer." She was whispering very softly now. She moved her hands down between her elevated knees and spread open thighs, and with her fingertips opened wider the soft yielding lips of succulent cunt.
"Don't you really want to lick my twat?" Toby teased.
"Don't ask," Paul Shannon said, trying futilely to raise his eyes to the ceiling. "Kiss my cunt."
"Oh, Jesus."
"Or would you rather fuck me?" He only groaned.
"Slide your cock into my nice, warm, wet, slippery, squeezing, ever-lovin' cunt?"
He groaned, one last time, and stood up, and reached out for her.
"That couch pulls out," she said, smiling triumphantly.
Toby lay back in the middle of the pulled out bed, and spread her legs wide when Paul Shannon threw off the last of his clothes. For the moment she was mindless, about who was about to fuck her. All she wanted was to be fucked. Fucked. Fucked. Fuck away all that fear and everything that went with it.
"Fuck me, Paul," she said. "Fuck me good."
Paul Shannon fucked her good. And she helped, from the very beginning, reaching out with one hand to guide the big glistening purple knob of his cockhead to the soft wet lips of her ravenous cunt. She let go as his king-size cock slid into her cunt's snug, clutching embrace, and gasped happily as, with one long, sure, practiced stroke, he plunged it all the way home.
Toby felt it sliding to the core of her being, her soul. It seemed imbedded all the way up to her throat, deep in the slippery grasp of her squeezing twat, into the deepest part of her aching need.
She hooked her heels behind him, as he fucked her with an expert, slow, shuttling motion. Toby wanted that cock so badly now, so deeply, that she goaded him to greater, deeper-thrusting efforts with the insistent pressure of her heels against his naked, straining buttocks. He hooked his hands up behind her shoulders to keep her cunt from sliding away from his deep, pounding fuck-strokes, and she tightened the grasp of her calves around his hips, without shortening the unfettered pounding of his plunging shaft into her gulping, clutching, ecstatic, squirming cunt.
She didn't know how long it went on, but she heard herself gasping.
"Deeper, Paul," she moaned. "Fuck me deeper."
He fucked the great shaft into her with renewed energy, faster and deeper, it seemed, with every stroke. Toby hooked her hands behind his neck, making him bend forward over her as she felt her spasms beginning, and then for a moment she was blind with sensation, as she came, and came again, grunting and gasping, her hips writhing, her cunt grinding against the hard mound at the base of his big, hard, thrusting cock.
"Aah, now," she said, in a high clear voice, remembering all at once where she was, and why.
Paul Shannon's cock was gushing deep inside her when the first flashbulb went off. His face showed first shock, then terror, as his head twisted toward the flash.
The second flash went off as his cock, still spurting, was leaving the clutching, lingering lips of her cunt.
The door had closed behind Ralph by the time he got to his feet. He stood stock still, looking numb. Even in that state, it was evident to Toby that he knew he couldn't give chase down four flights of stairs, balls-ass naked.
He dressed and left without saying a word. Without even looking at her.
Toby made herself a drink and lay back in the easy chair, relaxed, content, the worry of the last twenty-four hours dissipated into thin air. Gone forever.
She was pretty sure Ralph would drop back up, when he knew the coast was clear. She owed him a lot, that boy. Jay too. Maybe he'd come up later, too. They could have a Little victory party.
And now there was nothing to stop her from seeing her young friend Steve, any time she wanted to. And his friends. And his father, too, if she felt like it.
