"Quick, quick!" Olivia burst from the house, racing toward the swimming pool. Her bare feet made slapping sounds on the wet tiles, her red hair was flying and the air rushing into her open blouse filled it in a way her bosom couldn't.
"Quick," she gasped.
I was lying on the diving board, my arms cushioned beneath my head, basking in the hot sun like a happy cat. I had heard Olivia coming; I'd have to be deaf not to. The bitch made more noise than a team of circus elephants. But what the hell was the trouble? Probably another bill collector was in the vicinity.
"Now what?"
When I raised my head, blinking moisture from my eyes, streams of hot sweat rolled down my forehead, sliding along my nose. The silly ass of a girl was standing there in her faded jeans completely out of breath.
"We've got to be quick, I said."
Oh Jesus God, what was wrong with this damned hippy? Since I had picked up her and her damned husband a week ago my peace had vanished. They had moved into this house I had rented and taken it over completely. The liquor supply was depleted, the food was down to maybe an old slice of bread and I had to hide money from them.
She was pulling her blouse out of her jeans, unbuttoning it so that her breasts popped out. The sight of those neat, round boobs brought me off the diving board in a hurry.
"What in hell are you doing?" I faced her, looking up a bit for she was five foot nine, an inch taller than me. A bit too slender also for my taste but still in all well curved.
"Sam heard it on the radio, something about trouble in the government with Makarios and he's gone to the city to buy a newspaper. You always wanted to bang me, I mean you've been lusting after me for the week I've been here, so now's your chance."
"Screw you! Now!"
"It would take him at least a half-hour. We can manage ourselves a quickie."
Trouble with the government. Ohh, man, I was a tourist and damned unwilling to be caught in a crossfire if a civil war erupted. My eyes flicked toward the house, thinking I ought to rush in there and phone the Consulate for advice.
Olivia was peeling off her jeans, rolling the ancient moth-eaten garment down her everlastingly long, slim legs. Her panties, once blue, were faded to a variety of colors and threadbare.
A little bewildered, I watched her transformed from a loud-mouthed hippy into a slender but curvaceous and desirable creature. Her pubic bush, lighter in hue then her long, flowing hair, was thick, a regular forest. Her belly was round, sunburned and inviting. Her breasts were good, ball-shaped with the pinkish nipples shooting skyward.
Naturally I had an erection but God, a war was pending and I should be at the radio, not screwing.
"Hell, Olivia...I don't know."
"You don't know!" She put her hands on her hips. "But you've been hot for me, for crissakes! And you've got a damned hard-on like a baseball bat, anyone can see that. What in hell you mean you don't know?"
"Well the situation must be damned serious for a lazy bastard like Sam to get off his ass and rush off for a newspaper."
"Look, trouble or no trouble I am damned tired of getting it from Sam alone. Crissakes, I'd like to know what your prick is like."
She turned to go into the house, rolling her bare ass in an obscene manner. The twist and turn of that ass, the round cheeks rubbing one against the other created such a sexual turmoil that a jolt of electricity scorched my spine.
My bathing shorts were left on the tiles, next to her garments, and then I was racing after her, my penis broomstick-hard and leading the way. She squealed and leaped into the front room, sprinting over the tables and dodging me. Her evasive behavior only increased my excitement, causing vibrations to course through my body and my heart to pound violently.
A chair was knocked over, a lamp went flying and a pile of magazines and books which I had stacked so neatly rumbled during the pursuit. When at last she ceased, and stood like a female warrior with her legs apart and ready for battle, my blood was feverish.
"Screw me!" Her breasts, with the nipples very much enlarged, were rising and falling rapidly.
"I intend to."
There was no time to lead her into the bedroom so we had to attend to business on the rug. Her arms snapped about my neck and we exchanged the first, burning kisses. As her breathing became louder my senses soared. She gasped for breath when my hand searched her round thighs. Then I found her bush, all thick but soft, and my finger became entangled in the hairs before dipping into the slit.
"Oooohhh my God, Frankie!"
Her face reddened, her eyes went drowning and the tall, slim girl arched, bringing her twisting ass up off the rug. She weakened, her arms falling away as my finger performed. The lips of her vagina softened and the walls within became damp. The tip of my finger flicked over the little button of a clitoris, snapping at it, and the poor girl screamed.
"Just getting you all nice and wet."
"I'm wet, I'm wet! Ooohhh God, and I'm hot too...oooohhhh!" Her thighs flew apart, her body quivered and her ass, those round balls ground together over the rug.
She began to move fast, slamming up at me and punching back down with her bottom. My finger rubbed back and forth rapidly, creating the wildest pleasure possible and-she came!
I went deaf from her shouts. Man, did that girl let out some yells at the moment of climax. But I was wild too, panting loudly and in a hurry to penetrate her.
Olivia widened the spread of her thighs, grasped my shaft and directed it to her love nest. I was sucked into a swamp, sticky wet, boiling hot, juicy. For a moment I sank down to the hilt, feeling my sack of balls swing against the division of her rump.
"Ahhh, I waited a whole week for this!"
"Ahhh, yes, yes...it feels soo good...you will see it's worth waiting...for. Ahhh, you're bigger than Sam! Harder, too! He comes too quickly, the bastard!"
"Baby, you got me so goddamned hot I don't know if I can last long."
"Move, man, move! Bang the ass off me!"
I squeezed her breasts, pinched the nipples, then reached under to grab the twisting, fiery cheeks of her ass. Her fingers were in my hair, her kisses getting hotter as I moved.
It seemed that the muscles in my penis were more swollen, an indication of a due orgasm. So I slowed, falling easily, but resting atop her each time. She wrapped her legs about my waist, crushing the breath from my body while she said, "That's it. . . slow, slower!"
"Good!" We had settled into a steady rhythm, with her falling back as I rose and coming up to meet me as my body went down. In this way the shaft was sunk deeper and then pulled out far with her vaginal lips wrapping around the tip.
"Am I a good fuck?"
"Fantastic!"
"Worth waiting for, eh?"
"For a long girl you can move."
"I am long...yeah...but I have got a shape, all curves and...ooohh, God, I flunk it's happening! Ooohhh, noooo, noooo!"
My movements quickened, taking up more speed, digging deeper and harder. Olivia swallowed, caught her breath and twisted under me like a tornado, squeezing the life from me with her slim but strong legs and bounding up off the rug rapidly. She was so vigorous, so strong that I was carried up off the floor, actually suspended. Again the yelling as she came but my weapon heated her more, goading her into furious action, heightening her lust. Her flow was so copious that my dingus drowned there in the love cave. When she fell back, no longer moving, the light in her blue eyes had dimmed. The flesh of her breasts had tightened, her face was unnaturally red and she was under me like a dead person. Finished.
"You okay, baby?"
"Two...orgasms...one with your finger...one with your prick...ooohhhh, please, please, give me a third."
Fortunately my time was still not too close so it was possible to gift this redhead with another climax. The walls of her business had contracted after the coming, tightened about my joint, permitting too little movement. As I rose there was a sucking sound and the cream bubbling up out of her cleft seeped through the red pubic hairs, going in different directions down her thighs.
The feeling of that love juice increased my desires and I rammed the girl, really thrusting into her. Olivia shivered, made a whining sound but returned to life, kissing me hotly and entwining her limbs about my rising and falling body.
"Yes, oh, yes, ooohhh, yessss!"
My hands clasped the wonderfully round and firm globes of her bottom and held on tight for a first-rate ride. Her mouth was pressed to mine and our tongues started to duel. Then that ass that my palms captured started its impossible revolutions, rubbing around like a machine. Her thighs sliding up and down mine were constantly busy and with our pubic hairs rubbing crisply together I was carried off into paradise.
Sometimes as she bent, bringing me up high, her lovely round breasts seemed to float upward, getting larger, alabaster white against the brown of her body. Then, the muscles leaped into her arms, her pink tongue flicked at my lower lip and I melted.
"Aghhh, baby!"
"Make me come, Frankie...make me come...ahhhh, make me, make...meeeee!"
Now her rear end was punching up, trying to unseat me, and the foaming juice was sliding out of her slit, burning my staff like a boiling cream. As I huffed and puffed like a long-distance runner my strength was re-gathered and my strokes were doubled. I was terribly intoxicated from desire and having this slim redhead under me so drunk from lust. The result of our coupling brought us both to the edge of insanity.
Her vagina was tight, muscular, snapping at the thing thrusting into her. She kept tossing her head about, wincing and gritting her teeth, begging me to ruin her. The way she jerked under me, nearly tearing off my member, brought a new and highly unexpected pleasure.
As the lips of her business compressed like a ring about my tool I burrowed deeper. I was grunting but she was gasping and squirming, going wild with lust. Her shoulders were pressed hard into the dirty rug and the action of her ass became violent.
The moment finally drew near. The long body on the rug shuddered in a paroxysm of passion, the hot moisture came bubbling up out of her slit and Olivia yelled:
"Owww...owwww, you son of a bitch Frankie...no, no, nooo, stop...stop it!"
While her body jerked upward convulsively I thrust rhythmically in and out, my tool leaping within the soft, wet depths. I experienced a crazy sensation, a sure signal that I was about to come.
"Now...baby!"
"Awwwww!" Her body bent, lifting me off the floor so easily. Her legs, with the feet firmly planted were rock hard and I was suspended, unable to move. "Frankieeeeee!"
Olivia fell back, her body and her round buttocks really coming down so hard that the room shook. BLAM! She jerked and trembled as the climax possessed her, tortured out of her mind.
My instrument bathed in the hot flow but plunged deeper. Power was mine as I battered her into that dirty rug, surging in and out, in and out, my eyes bulging as I came. Suddenly, it happened and I stiffened. Then-the hot and sticky sperm spurted out of my weapon and I rose and fell, rose and fell and-collapsed.
It took several minutes before either of us could speak and then I was out of her, my strong manhood reduced to something small and dangling. She rose by degrees, stretching, then kneeling, then clutching a table for support until finally she made it, her long lovely legs trembling.
"Ohhh, Frankie, that was something. Three times!"
My desire was dimmed and I could only think of cleaning up so that her shitty husband wouldn't catch on. We raced for the bathroom, showering together, taking turns soaping each other down. Olivia twisted too much under the spray, allowing me full use of her long body. Her breasts, so round and heavy, were still tight from passion, the nipples ever thick. Just passing the soap over them got me all hot and bothered.
"Olivia?"
She came too close and my penis, on the rise, slid up between her long, rounded thighs. The instant the tip encountered the tightly-closed lips of her freshly washed vagina. There was a response and I got as hard as concrete.
"Ohhh, no, Frankie, no, no...there's not much time. That bastard'll be here."
"Ahhh, baby, you feel sooo good! Your skin's so soft and shiny, and that ass!" The soap slid from my hand and my fingers traced the balls of her buttocks. The muscles came to life there, and the cheeks contracted, sucking together. "No, Frankie!"
She leaped from the tub and ran out of the bathroom, dripping water all over the place. Slowly, with a sigh, I turned off the faucets, reached for the towel and dried myself off. Damn, this time I would have given her a first-class screwing, really brought her up twice the three times that she came.
Cursing, I stood on the tiny rubber mat and smiled at my reflection in the long mirror hung opposite the large bathtub. The owner of the house probably enjoyed the spectacle of himself bathing. Me, I thought it a ridiculous place to hang a mirror.
My brown hair, badly in need of a trimming, looked black when wet and my brown eyes looked sad, too sad. But I appeared healthy, my body well-exercised, free of fat, and the lines of worry that had ruined my face were gone.
No one would recognize me. The man facing me looked 30 years of age. Turn the clock back a few months and I would be looking at a harassed and frightened character of 35. Money made the difference.
A broken marriage, alimony payments, a job I hated, too many bills, and friends with no one except the owner of a liquor store who kept me regularly supplied with alcohol. An existence rather than a life, with little reason for that. Then a lucky break...illegal, it was true, but a fortune was placed in my hands and suddenly a new life was mine.
As I peered through the bathroom window I sighted Olivia near the pool, already dressed in her hippie outfit. The sun was still high, brightening the redness of her wet hair, and fresh breezes came down from the hills, flowing about the house, causing the water in the swimming pool to ripple.
A wonderful life! And-I just had a wonderful screw. Who in hell could ask for anything more? I went into the bedroom to dress and my mind started returning to the past. Perhaps I wished to make comparisons between then and now to develop a stronger appreciation of current moments.
But the review of the past was aborted with the abrupt arrival of Olivia's husband. The bearded bastard Sam ran up to her shouting that war had come to Cyprus.
Within a few hours we were packed and down at the docks, mobs of vacationers suddenly turned into refugees eager to be carted away to safety by British ships. I stood there, bidding good-bye to the lovely house I could not see, the hot sun and all the brown-bodied girls.
Damn but I was miserable. From happiness to horror because of a stupid war.
People all about me were chattering excitedly, frightened they would be left behind. But I stood in silence, returning to the past, thinking of all the things that had happened. A troublesome, if interesting existence and it had started, I suppose, back in Greenwich Village, with the beauteous Jeannette Cosmo....
CHAPTER TWO
"Now look, Jeannette, just promise you won't scream out loud this time." I was more than a little apprehensive, for the sexual encounters with this lusty, rich-bodied creature could only lead to trouble. She was married, she was sex-starved, more than a little jealous I suspected and worse-when she climaxed it sounded as if every police siren in New York was turned on.
The blonde woman simply shrugged and strutted about the room, flinging her overly ripe buttocks this way and that. "It depends how I am affected. You should understand, Frankie, that I cannot help it. Any more than I can help the movement of my body."
Trouble was coining, I knew, it had to be on its way. We had met little more than two months before at a ball (a high society ball, if you please) and my credentials as a journalist had gained me admission. A few minutes after waltzing about the very much married Mrs. Jeannette Cosmo we had ducked out the back entrance, settled in her husband's Cadillac limousine and screwed ourselves silly.
Forty-five years old, but she had given me a whirlwind of a ride. A full bucket of come erupted from my penis and I went around in a daze the rest of the evening imagining myself to be in love. Of course, when I recovered my head I realized nothing could work out between us. Physically, Jeanette was like a twenty-one-year-old girl. But age-wise she was heading into a group that insurance companies consider too old to insure.
Her husband, the banker Cosmo, was in his sixties and too powerful a man to make an enemy of. Also, she had two sons both nearing my age who could probably beat the hell out of me. But man, will I treasure the memory of that night in the Cadillac! Jeannette was a fantastic fuck.
Of course, shortly after that she started visiting my small apartment down in Greenwich Village. The building, all four floors of it, housed psychos. There were writers who never found time to write, painters who argued constantly about art instead of painting, poets who always stared up at the ceiling or the sky as if searching for the muse, actors who never held down an acting job, dancers who had forgotten the last time they danced, and philosophers whose philosophies were just too much for ordinary mortals. Artists all-those were my neighbors. Unwashed, drinking, smoking marijuana or hash, talking, shouting and screaming all day-and Jeannette Cosmo gladly went through all that for me to lay her.
"You must move out of here, Frankie. God, what a dump! These would-be intellectuals just love to live in dirt."
"Better apartments cost too much." "I shall help you."
"No, I can't take help from you. You give me your body and that's enough."
She had stripped to show me again the body that was all curves and contours. The well-molded breasts with the tiny pink nipples. The extremely round cheeks of her rear end, the maddeningly flared hips, the small waist and the legs that I always went wild over. They were not only long and extremely shapely with slim ankles, but large-calved and unblemished. During her teens Jeannette had been a gymnast and that physical activity shaped her body, which she now was able to maintain during maturity.
As I undressed my manhood tore out of my underwear, throbbing lasciviously before her eyes. Jeannette squealed as she always did, pleased by the sight of a hard, youthful tool. On my part I paid tribute to her breasts, stroking and pinching the nipples. Then I knelt, fondling her behind, planting wet kisses on her long thighs. Within moments of feeling that superb torso the ageing blonde was throbbing.
"I am hot, Frankie...oohh, cool me off, Frankie!"
"That's what you came here for, a cooling off."
"Make me know it, darling boy, make me feel it!"
To my surprise she went down on her knees, held fast to my legs and with an open, eager mouth tackled my penis. Ohh, she gave it to me, using tongue, teeth and lips, making what was hard iron become steel.
She had me trembling with this act of fellatio. When she rose my trembling hands had trouble holding on to her ass. Worse, as I shivered she spread her thighs and rapidly slammed the tip of my weapon into her hairy cleft.
"Holy cow!"
"I am still tight, aren't I, Frankie...just like a young girl."
"But...you've got a fire going in there, lady. You'll burn the head of my joint off!"
She was smiling as she made a swift ass action, sort of like performing a Latin-American dance, a really calculated movement, and I was fully sheathed.
"There, darling, the standing position. Now!"
Bells started ringing in my head, lights exploded before my eyes, I heard the trumpets of angels in the heavens and knew I was going to come. The revolutions of her ass were more rapid than the turn of a record player. And within a half-minute I let loose, flooding that lusty interior with hot semen.
"Sorry!" I staggered off like a drunk and fell across the bed, a finished man. But she was on top of me, cleaning my thing with a towel and then once more using her tongue to stiffen me. Fortunately, being young, my lance was soon ready for more action.
Jeannette lay on her back, her arms out-flung, allowing me to arrange her legs. When I penetrated her she released a slight groan. Then, when I was all the way in with my log rolling down her oily chute, she started to twist about.
"I have got you...now I have got you!" Her vagina snatched my bar, squeezing it. And as I hammered down in a hard but smooth plunge Jeannette was rising, her thighs stiff and her ass grinding up.
We went at it, making the bedsprings squeak. My shaft slid about, rubbing her clitoris into hardness. Coir bodies were pasted together, our arms and legs twined, our lips joined. Ohh, did we lavish lust upon one another! Up, down, up and down, a passionate and body-battering union that seemed to go on forever.
"Oohhh, I am running a temperature!"
"Just don't scream...please!"
"Ahhh hahhh, ahhh hahhh. I am going to blow all of my fuses."
She grabbed my pounding behind with her hands as if trying to curtain my movements. But her vagina tightened, keeping me well sheathed, milking the stiff shaft while she bucked under me like an untamed horse.
I slammed her into the mattress, grunting like an animal. She shouted out loud and churned her hemispheric buttocks, retaliating with a sort of a perverse passion. Then, with a scream that sounded like a police siren, she twisted her lips violently.
"No, no, please...I am so good to you, no, no, don't do this to me! OOOHHHH!"
She closed her eyes in ecstasy as she climaxed. The hairy flesh all around her vagina trembled as if from an itch and she contorted her lovely face. My weapon worked ceaselessly in and out as her yelling started. Did she scream!
Naturally those screams were an indication of the heights of pleasure to which I took her, but I am positive she was heard all the way down to the street
I was ready to pull out but she lurched upwards, fighting me. The fluid erupting from her hot slit dribbled out, running on her thighs, pasting wetness on mine and washing down my sac of balls.
"Calm down now or I'll stop!"
Her eyes were wet with tears but she continued to move. "That was a wild one, darling."
My penis drove deeply into her. The walls of her pussy closed after the climax, not hurting but tickling me. And my in-out rhythm had her panting again and jerking her hips. Truthfully, I was hoping to come before she started all that screaming again. Thus I stroked the rod into her steadily, feeding it into her writhing body.
"Easy, now, easy," I gasped, "I shall soon be on my way."
"Yes, yes, thrill me, thrill me." Jeannette raised her head to look down between our tightly joined bodies, catching the split-second when I rose to watch my penis slide all wet and hot out of her steaming hole. For some reason this excited her. I would bore in, pushing her insides apart, the round, slippery tip of my tool touching her very nerves.
First I heard her groans, then the deep moans followed by sighs, and I knew the screaming was about to start again. Now I was determined to reach my climax, to put an end to this game. Up and out I went, pulling . almost the entire length out, leaving just the balled tip in. But she would ram her rotating ass up, bringing us closer. So I had to thrust in faster.
As she screamed my passions reached an end. She exploded and bucked in a wicked orgasm while my cream tore out. She was shouting something, a warning that penetrated my lust-drugged senses.
"Eeeeee...ooooo...uuuuuhhhhh! Darling...aaahhh, the pill...I forgot to...yeeeeoooowww...take...nooooo...my pill!"
Jesus! I tugged my spitting cock loose and shot her lower, squirming torso, splattering her twisting belly and thighs with my seed.
Later I said: "Why in hell didn't you tell me?"
She was at the point of exhaustion, her body wet, her hair fanned out all over the pillow, her arms outstretched, her lovely long legs were trembling and the come soaking into her pubic hairs caused the strands to glisten.
"I...I forgot!"
"I shot in you when we did it in the stand-up position. Hell, you're going to be pregnant!"
In my tiny bathroom, a closet barely big enough to hold a shower, toilet and wash-basin I cleaned up, feeling none too happy. If Jeannette Cosmo became pregnant I would be in real trouble. I damned myself for being sex-crazy, thinking I should worry more about my future than wanting to get my penis into everything that wore a dress.
There was a little Scotch left in an old bottle in my kitchen shelf and I swallowed it, needing a little courage. It helped, but not much, and while Jeannette showered I stared out the window at the streets of Greenwich Village.
It was a hot day and girls were strolling in flimsy summer dresses and cotton jeans. But just seeing your breasts bounce and behinds twist caused a spark to flicker in my loins. No-it wasn't possible! I had just gotten laid, gotten my gun off twice!
Jeannette came out of the bathroom humming a popular song and stinking of my shaving lotion. When I turned, with my penis at full attention her eyes, so slanted like a cat's, closed down.
"Mmmmm! Just what the doctor ordered. Just the medicine I need."
"Ohh, no! I'm hot again but I'm not going into you without a preservative. And since I've none in the house well postpone the show until another time."
"Stupid boy!" She stroked my face with her palm. "I did forget to take the pill but I also got my days mixed up. This is a very safe time. There's ho danger."
What was there to say, what was there to do except get back into bed for another passionate and raw coupling? In bed I kissed her body, from the top of her head down to her slender ankles. I sucked on her rounded calves, licking the contours and whining. Jeannette began to bring her legs up. Moving higher, I wet the insides of her thighs all the way up to her hairy slit
That vagina was treated like something sweet, a bit of candy to be enjoyed all day. She moaned and raised her buttocks off the bed. enabling me to perform a good job of cunnilingus. The cavern was thoroughly explored with my tongue going carefully and slowly. She murmured and spread her legs wider apart while her stomach rippled.
"Oh God...ohhh God...what is the boy doing to me...ohh no, no!"
When the trembling lips parted my tongue lashed the insides, seeking the freshly washed taste. Reaching under her, I grabbed the cheeks of her bowl-shaped ass and pulled them apart. Jeannette screamed, bounded up and fell back.
With long strokes of my rasping tongue I laved her, reaching in deeper. The body I held leaped up, I was stroking so slowly, so lovingly, so erotically. Her thighs closed, slamming against my head, and the blood coursing into that area made her limbs hot.
Jeannette gasped, screamed, clapped a hand over her twisting mouth and climaxed. Even while the climax was at full strength she begged me to come into her. The long legs which were twisting all over the bed opened and my hot dong went easily into the palpitating slit.
"Ugggh!" Squirming, I shoved it in deeper, feeling the fluids caused by her orgasm wash around it.
Her lips closed, her eyes rolled in her head and she carried me off into rapture. I squeezed her pneumatic breasts as she arched her hard back, tossing me up high. Her climax had not faded but was going on, a continuous pleasure.
"Ohhh! Frankie...Frankie...you hard bastard! Oh, oh, you are making me come and come and come! Ohhhh, no, Frankie, no, no!"
"Jeannette...you bitch!" I shouted, "you tramp...you street-walking whore...what a fuck you are."
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"You...you prostitute!" I called out, my voice now ragged.
"I am a prostitute...so...fuck me like one!" I had her now and I was a ruthless lover, really tossing a wicked screw into her. She boiled over, lathering my weapon with her foaming cream, and I sought to restrain myself. But her moment of tearing lust passed and with her breath short the middle-aged blonde came on to fight more.
Now she gave it to me. I was lodged tight, secure in her wet pocket, but her ass grinding up met every one of my punishing, downward thrusts.
I clasped her tightly, one hand on her back, the other on her bottom just at the division of the twin cheeks. Now I was achieving a greater reward, going off in swift, throbbing spurts.
Our "mutual excitement was extraordinary, our ecstasy of spending sending us to a state of frenzied madness. We exchanged positions, with her straddling me, lowering herself so that she was neatly impaled, her tight-fleshed bottom resting against my hairy knobs. I arched, gorging her and she embraced me, flattening her breasts against my chest.
"Now Frankie...move, move!"
Her screams resounded, echoing through the tiny apartment, fleeing the window, taking shape in the streets. The neighbors, those unwashed creatures who labeled themselves artists, heard, they always did. Women hanging up washing in The courtyard would pause to raise their faces. Children at play would cease to whisper: "Frankie Hill is killing some poor woman again!" They knew, everyone around there knew, but I didn't give a damn!
At last it was over.
When she dressed Jeannette told me something about her husband suspecting. He was questioning her and threatening to put private detectives on her trail. "But don't worry, darling, he'll never find out."
A brief exchange of kisses and she left, promising to phone me. From the window I watched her walk down the street, a tall, expensive-looking blonde with a magnificent body. But this hot affair I knew, had to cool down. Married women were trouble and when they were married to wealthy, powerful men they were even worse trouble.
After I showered and dressed, putting on a casual outfit of jeans, slip-on shoes and a summer-weight pullover, I left the flat. The hallway was dark-the lights in the ceiling had burned out and never been replaced. Someone was frying fish, determined to stink out the building. If that smell was bad, the smell one flight down was worse. Here, some prancing homosexual who considered himself a ballet dancer had let his dog out into the hall. The dog, a real mutt with about nine different breeds slapped up in him, was too lazy to attend to his business in the street. Therefore the hall received his daily load and anyone unfortunate enough to pass by received a nice odor in the nostrils.
The bastards! I cursed these phonies, wondering when in hell I'd raise enough money to move to a decent place. On the main floor, lounging against the mailboxes was a young brunette, Barbara by name. Her long hair was an uncombed mess and her bare feet were dirty. But she wore tight-fitting shorts and a cotton sweater that displayed a youthful, rounded body to real advantage.
"When are the police corning after you, Frankie?" She smiled, revealing white, even teeth.
Teasing me again, I knew, but at the moment my eyes were on her mouth, wide, shapely, the lower lip ripe. She was pretty too, with a tilted nose and large green eyes, but I knew she was a bitch. A dancer or a painter, I forgot which, she lived on money from home. Her parents willingly paid for her to stay out of their sight, she was that much trouble to them.
"If anything the police'll come after you. Smoking hash and all that illegal stuff."
She arched her back, posing so that her round breasts became more prominent. "But I don't kill anyone. The women who visit you...God, all that screaming!"
"Why don't you mind your own business?" I moved to go past her but she quickly blocked my path, offering me a taunting smile.
"I wonder if you could make me scream like that or..." She rolled her slim but curved hips like a Hawaiian hula-hula dancer. "Maybe you'd be the one screaming when I got through with you."
A direct invitation or a tease, I did not know but it was something I certainly did not need. So by shoving her out of the way, enjoying the feel of her body as I did so, I hit the streets.
CHAPTER THREE
I lived by virtue of my typewriter churning out articles for a newspaper. Or I should say that I existed, since the bastards who owned the scandal sheet did not pay me enough. God, the bilge I had to write! Raped In A Telephone Booth, which was supposedly about some maiden getting worked over by a hot-blooded boy while making a call. Man Of Ninety Seeks A Last Love about some old bastard ready to will his houses, factories and cars to any girl willing to climb into bed with him for a final mounting. Cave Girl Looks For A Strong Cave Man. And there was this picture of a big, curvy woman carrying a wooden club who lived in a cave and wanted some stupid bastard to share it with her. Boy, did that article bring in letters from the readers.
Of course I had to pay my bills and put a meal in myself, hence the writing of such crap. The owner of the paper was a character who used to make pornographic films earning thousands upon thousands of dollars until gangsters moved in and took the set-up away. Now he published this scandal rag for idiots who believed everything that they read. Bob Manners was his name and he was in his fifties, looking like a tramp by day in old clothes and a fashion plate by night in pinstriped suits, bright ties and a flower in his lapel. He had one assistant, a nasty guy whom everyone called Joe-nobody knew his last name. There were no other assistants because they all had quit. The secretaries, like the writers, lasted a week or two, hardly longer since they were unable to put up with Bob Manners' cheap ways or his nastiness.
Late that afternoon I strolled into the office, which was on Madison Avenue and Sixty-First Street, to find it filled with writers, all trying to sell false stories. My latest piece was entitled Man Gives A Million For A Night Of Love. It was about a guy unable to achieve an erection who finally finds a chick who excites him. Naturally the stories even though false had to make sense, and since no one in his right mind would pay any girl a million dollars I had to make it a million Italian lire.
Bob Manners was yelling at the writers, telling them he had a paper to get out, the deadline was near and they were all presenting him with the sort of a shit he could not use.
"I got competition, many newspapers like mine coming out, selling better too. I need stories that live, that breathe, that excite my readers. I want those stupid sons of bitches to write me letters. I actually want them to dream of meeting the people you ass-holes are writing about."
The writers took his shouts without flinching, actually looking shamefacedly at Bob. I slipped into a side office feeling sorry for those bastards. Why is it, I wondered, that this is a universal problem in all fields of publishing? Writers are the legs that hold a table up, the table upon which publishers can enjoy a good meal. Yet writers everywhere are abused, treated like dirtbut needed.
Ah well, I had a living to earn; I could not feel sorry for anybody. Bob's assistant, a fat mother-fucker who resembled Al Capone, came in, snarling: "What kind of shit you got for us today?"
"A good one." I handed him the article, which ran to about eight pages. "And this time I want a decent price."
He heaved his fatness into a chair, smoothed back the hair on his head, all five or six strands of it, chomped on a dead cigar and read. His beady little eyes slid over the article and occasionally he would nod his head or grunt like a pig in a farmyard.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah but it ain't gonna work. Nobody'll believe this shit. A million, even in lire, for a broad who helps a guy get it up. Nah!"
"It's a fresh idea."
"Fresh! Yeah, maybe around the time of Moses it was fresh. Jesus Christ, when in hell are you gonna come up with something original? All you guys give me a pain in my balls writing real junk."
"Oh, go fuck yourself!"
"Hey!" He rose from the chair, shouting into my face, letting me have a good dose of his bad breath. "You better watch yourself around here."
I stood my ground. "Get rid of me and you won't have a single writer left. You'll have to scour the streets for them."
Bob Manners, wearing his daytime outfit, the sagging pants, soiled shirt and unshined shoes, came in. "What is going on in here?"
The assistant told him and pointed to the article. "Who in hell's going to believe that?"
Bob, his face lined from sin and thick flecks of dandruff in his slick gray hair, read the article. After a while he said: "Well, I dunno."
"C'mon Bob, it's shit!"
"Yeah, but maybe there're guys around who'd pay a million lire for the right girl." "Nobody would." "Maybe I would." "Bullshit."
"Nah, it's possible I would."
The fat assistant heaved a sigh. "Nah, you wouldn't."
"Listen, when you're his age, Frankie's age, then sex is no problem. But when you're my age, nearing sixty, then it's a hell of a problem. Think I can get it up all the time? The hell I can. And what about that there prince or Duke or whatever he was? Wasn't he homosexual? And he met that bitch, three times divorced or something like that. She made a man of him and he gave up everything, all that royalty and whatnot for her."
"Ohh, brother!" The fat man was bored.
But now Bob's eyes blazed and he warmed to his subject. "Look at the girl I go with, Reggie, take her now."
I would loved to have taken her. Reggie, or Regina to use her proper name, was a blonde built better than Raquel Welch with a real bedroom manner. Where Bob found her or where she found him was a mystery but they were a team.
"Reggie excites me and that's why I go with her. She costs a fortune, always yelling for clothes and watches and rings and vacations, but I give it to her. I would give a million to any broad who'd make me young again."
"Nah, you wouldn't."
"Yes, I would."
It went on and on like that with the result that the article was sold and Bob Manners made his fat man write out a check for me. I felt saved; the bills could be paid and I could breathe easier for another week or so. But as I started to leave the assistant warned me.
"Better watch yourself around here, sonny boy. Tell me to go fuck myself again and you're out! Get me?"
* * *
The rest of the evening I was filled with anger. Men were following me, trailing me along the street, on the bus back down to Greenwich Village, to the bank where I cashed the check, into the bar where I had a beer and back to the old apartment building. But I was much too furious to notice. I needed a new job, some better way of earning a living, and that was for sure.
Then I did a very stupid thing. I invited Barbara out to dinner. She was before me on the street, acquainting the world at large with her body, small but firm breasts stuck out, tight shorts clinging to the slender curves of her buttocks and upper thighs, long legs swinging. The hippies, dope-pushers, drug-takers and would-be artists loafing around down there in bohemia really dug her. Whistles followed her wherever she went and she gloried in all this attention.
We met, were more pleasant to each other this time, and agreed to a dinner date. I changed my clothing, wondering if she would do the same. To my surprise she had washed her hair, pulled it back into a pony tail, lip stick painted her luscious mouth and slipped on a black shantung dress that was cut low in front and high at the bottom, way above the knees.
Barbara looked good enough to eat. Maybe after dinner I might do just that, eat her! Taking her arm I hailed a taxi, trying to play Mr. Big, and give the address of an uptown restaurant to the driver. As we rode off, her strong perfume filled the taxi. I looked at her, a dream of a girl, knowing she might be better for me than Jeannette Cosmo.
How wrong I was!
Halfway through dinner the stupid little bitch got sick. We had started off with martini cocktails and that was fine but Barbara insisted upon having three! Then she knocked off half a bottle of wine, running the price of the meal up to a fantastic height.
I began to worry if the money in my wallet would cover the bill. Otherwise Td end up in the kitchen tackling the dirty dishes. Jesus, she was a dream to look at, a lovely girl curved to beat all hell, but she was too damned expensive.
When dessert arrived Barbara demanded Cointreau. I suggested cognac with our coffee but she had already snapped her fingers at the waiter and given him the order. Later with coffee she had cognac, but a double! This girl was going to get drunk I knew, and drunk girls can't fuck. The evening was going to be a total loss.
The bill was astronomical. For a man like me who lives hand to mouth this sort of an evening was a mistake. Worse, on the way out, as we passed the bar she insisted upon a Scotch. It took an effort on my part to push her out of the damned restaurant.
Outside, when the evening air hit her, nature took its inevitable course and she vomited on the sidewalk. I walked her away from the mess, feeling disgusted, and tried to get a taxi but no driver would take us.
"It's all right," she mumbled. "My aunt...she has an apartment around here...and I have the key."
We walked, with the silly young bitch tottering all over the sidewalk, attracting the attention of people passing by. On one corner there was an all-night drugstore open and I dragged her inside for an alka-seltzer. This helped somewhat and after a glass of the fizzy stuff she belched loudly. The druggist made believe he heard and saw nothing. A sick girl, even a beautiful one, is not a pleasant sight.
Afterwards I made her freshen her breath by chewing on peppermints then we resumed walking again. Her aunt's apartment was in a swank building on the famous and far too rich Park Avenue. The uniformed doorman, recognizing Barbara, murmured a good evening but it was obvious he wasn't too pleased. We stepped into a long lobby that was lined from wall to wall with carpets and took the elevator to the tenth floor.
Barbara fumbled a key from her pocketbook and slid it into the lock. She went in first, frowned and turned back to me. "Hey, I think there's a bit of romancing going on. You better wait here."
I waited fully five minutes before she returned. Her face was red and her eyes were blazing with merriment. She giggled a bit then gasped out: "Guess what?"
"What?" Who the hell wanted to play guessing games.
"My aunt is getting laid. I broke in on her while she's naked."
"Let's get out of here!"
"No, no. We can be quiet."
"You mean we are to stay here...while she screws?"
"She said for us to take a little walk and then return. I explained that I'm a little sick and want to rest here and it's okay but first she wants to get banged."
Barbara gently closed the door behind us and acting like a thief led me down a foyer where paintings hung, past ornate tables and tiny statuettes of bronze and marble to a closed door. The thick rug muffled our footfalls but I thought listening in on a couple copulating was hardly a decent thing to do.
The girl was beside herself with joy, a regular kid bent on creating mischief. Perfume filled the air and I realized that it was floating from the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and my eyes, accustomed now to the darkness, saw the shadowy form of a man.
Barbara's breath was hot on my neck, her hard breasts pressing into my back, creating the wrong feeling. Gently, I eased away, not wanting at this moment the excitement her nearness caused.
The man moved, standing near the window, enabling us to see he was tall with bushy dark hair. "That's Arnold," Barbara whispered into my ear. "He always tosses a good fuck into Aunt Marcia."
Paper was tearing and I saw this Arnold bend back, his shaft rising in the air. I heard something snap like rubber and squinting, saw him don a contraceptive, rolling it down the full length of his penis.
I looked to Barbara for explanation. Did her aunt have a disease? In this day and age men did not use rubbers.
"She never takes anti-baby pills. She's too fat already and they will blow her up like a balloon."
I glimpsed a big blonde woman lying on the wide bed, bringing up her legs, opening her thighs wide and waiting. The anticipation of just watching had me hot and very hard.
Arnold bent over Marcia, giving her a little extra stimulation by sucking on her nipples, laving her straining breasts with his tongue, running his fingers along her sides and finally giving her a rapturous kiss.
He further increased her excitement by using his finger, sending it deep within the moaning woman's hole. I heard him asking her to draw her knees higher, and still higher!
At last they connected and his hose was absorbed in the woman's body. He sank in, the thing vanishing from my view, going all the way up the slit with Aunt Mar-cia convulsing already. They fought, she heaving up, Arnold hammering down. Then they blended and ground together, her body white, his darker, breaking apart and coming together again.
Man, was I envious. I wanted my hose in that big woman, splitting her apart, making her yell as this Arnold was now making her yell. Marcia cried out that she was creaming and there was a terrible sucking sound each time their bodies parted.
He pinioned her to the bed, his hands transferring from her shoulders to her buttocks. Something certainly exploded then in the woman for she bucked beneath him with her legs going up, her heels making contact with the small of his back.
Cursing, using the filthy language of the streets, Arnold worked rhythmically. The woman gasped and bounced up spasmodically, moans leaving her throat. And as the man drove straight in, deeper, deeper, she cried out and punched up with her bottom and belly.
"Oh...oh...oh...do it, do it more, more and more!" Her hands clutched his bottom as it pumped quite vigorously, driving his stiffness in and out. As he came down Marcia recoiled, accepting the pleasurable hurt Then she answered his lusts by jerking herself convulsively, planting her ass in the bed and heaving up.
"Eeeeeeooooowww!"
"Darling, darling Arnold...ooooooooo!" "Marcia, you bitch, you...eeee ooooowwww!" I couldn't see any more, I couldn't hear any more.
I turned, grabbing Barbara there in the dark hall. Our tongues met and intertwined. We exchanged spittle and hot kisses and while I ran my open mouth along her taut throat I felt up her firm breasts.
She broke free, warning me to be quiet. I placed her hand on my extremely hot, throbbing pole but she pulled away and went backwards, down the hall. I tried to follow and losing her, found myself facing a series of rooms. The apartment was as large as a damned hotel. I did my share of exploring, then figured it was best to leave Barbara and then get back down to Greenwich Village. A wasted evening, worse than I expected, not to mention the amount of money tossed away. But there it was!
Accidentally, I stumbled into the front room just as Aunt Marcia and her lover Arnold finished their scene. I remained quiet, holding my breath while they did a good amount of talking. Then footsteps hit the hallway and they left.
"Barbara?"
No answer.
"Barbara," I called again.
"Leave me...I want to rest."
"Then I'm going home."
"No! Let me rest a bit and I'll join you."
Perhaps the evening wasn't wasted after all. I looked out the windows, watched television for a brief time and finally went through some magazines. Time passed and then I was before the bookshelves. An old novel, a war book by the long-dead writer Kellermann caught my eye. I selected it, picked out a soft armchair and sat down to read.
The book was good, holding my interest, but often I would put it aside to find the bedroom where Barbara rested. She slept soundly. She should, after all that liquor swallowed at my expense. When she woke up, however, we'd have ourselves a chat
I went back to the war book.
Soon it was about one in the morning.
Barbara was awake; I heard her padding about the bedroom. For a moment the book lay in my lap while I waited for her to appear. When she did not come into the room I resumed reading but after a while I was unable to concentrate. There were moans coming from the bedroom, I was certain of it
Slowly, I closed the book and rose, walking softly on the rug to the hall where I stood just outside the room. There she was, undressed except for stockings and panties, running her fingers through her hair. This movement caused her abundant breasts to rise, become taut.
Shit! The sight turned my legs to jelly. The girl had a body! Slim but curvy. The sight of her pressing both hands to those mounds sent the nerves lining the insides of my thighs leaping.
Barbara was fingering the tiny nipples, the fingering of the pink stubs causing her to moan. The girl was working herself up, but-why? Then I saw a hand flash downward between the slender, round-fleshed thighs and realized she was about to masturbate. Her pubic bush was too dense and the-toom being in darkness I was unable to sight the exact action. But I knew a finger had slipped between the vaginal lips. In out, in out, and then the girl was convulsing.
"Ooohhh God, ohh God!"
Now you say what you will but this just did not make sense. My propositions at dinner were brushed off and here she plays with herself, substituting a finger for a penis when the real thing is in an adjacent room. The girl was obviously a psycho.
On tiptoe I returned to the front room and picked up the book. The words swam across the page for my eyes were rolling. The heat in my groin was painful. Lust had crept over me, possessing me completely and just one thought, getting into that young body, occupied my mind.
Somewhere in the apartment I heard a door slam. Then I heard water running and realized Barbara was in the bathroom cleansing herself. Minutes ticked by before she appeared.
"Interesting book?"
"Huh?" I looked up, seeing that she was once again dressed. "Oh, yes, not bad, not bad at all." "What is it about?"
"Well...you know..." How in hell could I remember the plot when I was suffering such an erection? "War, you know and all that."
She bent, bringing her face close to mine as she picked up the book. That left my lap exposed, revealing the super bulge in my trousers. A smile twisted her lips as she returned the book. "Shame you won't be finishing it, since we won't stay here all night."
I looked the young bitch over. Standing near the lamp she offered a good view of her splendid young body, the ripe jutting boobs, the rounded, curved rump. "What are you trying to pull, Barbara?"
"The whisky got me hot. The sight of me masturbating got you hot, so why don't you do what I did?"
"You're trouble, aren't you, real trouble?"
Instead of answering she turned and walked off, her eyes half-closed, her breasts bouncing, her young buttocks grinding away rhythmically. The book was set aside and I followed her down the hall into the bedroom.
There in the darkness she silently removed her clothing and got into the bed. She lay back, her legs parted and brought high, waiting.
"Well?"
I took too long to undress because I just couldn't figure this girl out. By the time I knelt on the edge of the bed my erection had faded. What I offered the girl was a worthless tool.
"I don't know...you're playing games and..." I gestured helplessly.
Barbara rolled over on her side and took the limp penis in her hand. She fondled it and the blood slowly leaped into my loins. Inching her way closer and moaning a bit she opened her mouth.
Slowly, she sucked the limpness out of my weapon, starching it with her hot saliva. Her full lips wet my pubic hairs and sent such thrills coursing through me that I shook all over.
"Gee-zuz, baby, you really know how to operate." Shit, I was rising, getting hard, becoming a steel pole.
"Ugggghhh!" Barbara gagged. My instrument, swollen now, filled her mouth.
Withdrawing a bit, her tongue flicked over the tool, right down to the sac of balls. I grabbed her head with my hands and lunged in and out of her mouth.
Tears leaped to Barbara's beautiful eyes. I was not at all small and my extremely hard bar was ramming down her throat. She paused to release a strangled scream but nevertheless continued to chew my organ.
"Ahhhh, girl, girl, stop it!"
I mauled her shoulders, played with her agitated breasts, and the cheeks of my rear end tightened as the moment approached. At the last second I pulled out and stood there shivering as I climaxed.
"Look at it go!" Barbara screeched.
The thick hot cream went flying in an arc, shooting over her shoulder to splatter against the headboard of the bed. It dripped down in boiling white gobs. We both stared, fascinated.
She brought her hands together clapping, praising her own blowing performance or what, I didn't know. But I gathered myself, shook my still-hard cock a bit, shoved the girl on her back and took her.
"NO!"
"No is right, girlie, no fooling around!" "NO, I don't like sex...No, no!"
"Bullshit!"
"I'm a virgin."
"The way you fingered yourself, the way you just blew me? Ohhh, baby!"
I was not rough with her but just the same I was hardly gentle. Barbara's juicy body arched when her thighs were shoved apart. Her contorted mouth was still bubbling with hot saliva. But now I was past her vaginal lips, shoving forward, grunting, holding her twisting ass in my hands, gaining an extra inch.
"Agggghhhh!" Then I was buried to the hilt in her hairy young snatch.
Barbara was no longer a virgin! She cried out when I raised her up and rammed her. She shuddered and moaned. My hands kneaded her ass as I pumped in and out driving myself to a wild pitch.
"You rat, you stinking rat!"
"Enjoy it, baby."
"Ohhh, you filthy bastard!"
I lasted one hell of a long time. She just lay back, letting me have my way, accepting my entrance and withdrawal, behaving as if she felt nothing at all.
On and on I went, doing a real workman-like job without reaching anything like a climax. But now Barbara was taking an interest in the act. Soon, she was moving along with me, rising to meeting my fall.
"Oooh, oh, ooooh, oh, oooooohhhhh!" She coiled about me, tightening her arms, one about my neck, the other about my body, mashing her hard breasts against my chest. Her young legs, slender but powerfully muscled, locked in mine, holding me fast.
"You're...a...strong girl!"
"Dirty son of a bitch!"
"Not so tight...stop squeezing me."
"Frankie, you bastard, I am giving you exactly what you gave me. You're going to know what it is to fuck a young girl."
"Shit, I'm knowing it now."
Her entire body was in action, the ass I held grinding, chafing the palms of my hands. I rose, practically tearing my penis out of the fleshy vise. She arched, pulsing spasmodically and cried out in ecstatic abandon.
"I think...ohhhh, Frankie!"
"Don't talk, Barbara, just move!"
"Frankie, Frankie you skunk! I am going to have it. Ahhhhh!"
"MOVE!"
"I am...having...an...ohhh, orgasm!" "Meeee tooo," I bellowed.
Barbara rose, merging with me, flowing in motion with me, her sex grasping my pulsing instrument tightly. We were welded together, moving as one. I thrust as deeply as I could into her passage, rested, withdrew as much as her now avaricious cunt permitted and thrust in again.
It was fantastic, we were both coming together. This young girl was a jewel!
The bowls of her ass tightened in my hands. She screamed and screamed telling me that what she thought was a dream was finally reality. She was coming. As the orgasm leaped to life, beginning at the base of her loins her vagina tightened like a fist. Her body was hurled up savagely.
"I made it...ohhh, Frankie, for the first time in my life I made it!"
Flame blazed in my loins. My penis grew beyond proportions. As the girl threshed furiously under me in a wild passion, releasing harsh moans of rapture I came.
Barbara fell back, panting, quivering, groaning from exhaustion and pleasure, feeling the entire load delivered in her funnel. "Wonderful!"
"Yeah, yeah, there it is, a full pint of cream for you."
"Aaaaaahhhh, at last I'm a woman!"
CHAPTER FOUR
We had rested for perhaps a half-hour, at times talking but mostly just lying there, resting. I heard about her aunt who owned this apartment, something about her being a nymphomaniac, but I was too tired to listen.
Barbara shook me just as I was dozing off and requested another turn. I gave it to her this time, making her climax like a madwoman, but that wasn't enough for the little bitch.
After the third screw I was worn out "Baby, do you know what time it is? The sun will soon be up."
"Are you a man or a little boy?"
"I am human!"
This time she climbed on me, working my instrument up into her, and started slamming down with her ass. It began to hurt and I cried enough but she was determined for a release.
"Oooohhhh, ooooohhhh, oooohnhh!"
"Listen," I tried to move in unison with her but I was goddamned beat. "Did you say your aunt was a nympho?"
Her breasts swung like bells across my face as her rear end came up and went down. "Yes, yes, she...is."
"And what the hell are you?"
She slid up and down the shaft, always rotating her finely shaped rump, grinding away on me, grinding me down into the bed. "Just...a...girl...who has needed this...for a long, long time."
God came to my rescue when she climaxed and rolled over. My penis drooped to nothing and I lay there, a dead man, gasping his last breath. The smartest thing to do would be to get the hell out, but I could not move.
When the sun flowed in the bitch woke me up and stated with a smile that it was time for a little more action. Not this time, I mumbled. Her efforts to harden me failed. Lips, tongue, teeth, fingers, nothing worked.
"You're no man! You're a lousy homo!"
"Yeah, yeah!" I tried to sleep but she kept a hand on my shoulder to shake me at steady intervals.
"Frankie, you don't know how you took me to heaven. Darling, I had a climax for the first time. Ohhh, please!"
"Baby...you had more than one...now listen, I am ruined and you'll have to get a doctor and an ambulance...I just can't!"
"Shitty bastard! Call yourself a man!"
Barbara opened her long legs, explored up high between her thighs, worked a finger into her business and began to twist her bottom lasciviously, gasping all the while.
I opened one eye to watch. As she plunged her finger into her vagina the digit emerged shining wet. I saw also that uncontrollably her belly was rippling of its own accord.
"Now, now, now!"
Her entire body, working in unison with the thrusts, jerked spasmodically. The legs bent and wobbled, the belly rolled up and down, her curved hips worked. She twisted about energetically, her dark hair flying, her eyes rolling.
"Aiiii yieeee!" She bared her teeth like a snarling dog. Suddenly, she fell over on her side, pumping away with her buttocks and then going stiff. I could see her shoulders working as she gasped for breath. I rested a hand on her back and it came away hot and wet
"Are you all right?"
"Yes...now I can sleep."
In the morning she rose to open the windows and allow cool air to circulate. Then she tossed her hair back and stood there, naked, looking down at me. There was a dreamy expression on her face and she no longer resembled the hippy maiden who hung about Greenwich Village. Now she was a lusty temptress, her body all curving and alive and rosy-hued, her half-closed eyes challenging, her lush mouth parted.
I watched her gestures, her motions so animal-like, the breasts so sculptured. An itch started somewhere high up in my chest. It traveled rapidly, shooting spark-like to my belly and then nestling deep within my groin. My hands quickly formed a wedge to burrow between my thighs.
"Now you are becoming a man again, eh Frankie, just watching me walk about has hardened you."
I nodded, too aroused to speak. Nor did I resist when this young girl shoved me back against the pillows, entered the bed and applied her open mouth to my privates. Her tongue, coarse, almost like sandpaper, lapped me up and I twisted, responding to the wild sensation.
My legs closed like a vise on Barbara's head. She maintained a grip with the aid of ten fingers biting into my bottom. The tongue did its job, curling and uncurling and lashing out at my hardness. My body jerked and I choked as the faucet within my loins opened.
Man did I flow! like a victim of a disease I suffered terrible tremors. My entire body rippled, my shoulders quivering, my rear end pumping. It was a delirium and I rolled all over the bed.
At last, lying back, catching my breath I felt her silky hair tumble down upon my quaking body. She straddled me, her curved thighs all fiery and muscled. Then she licked all the sweat from my upper body, and slowly, inch by inch, she worked her open and closed mouth down.
Strangely enough her throbbing lips built the sensation up and once more my penis hardened.
That morning we tried everything. We lay atop each other, first she on me, then reversing the positions. I bit into her belly, mashed her breasts together and screwed her savagely. We used our mouths to search every bit of the other's skin, the armpits, the insides of the thighs, the privates, going on and on until the bed was an absolute mess.
What I did not learn from young Barbara that morning was simply not worth learning. Later, after we had washed and dressed, each of us discovered a reluctance to return to Greenwich Village.
"But we can't remain here, in a strange apartment."
"It's my aunt's."
"Still, she wouldn't approve."
"We haven't wrecked it, have we? The sheets on the bed can be changed. All we've used are towels and some of her soap. Hell, we haven't even examined the kitchen to see what's in there in the way of food."
"Speaking of food!"
Barbara agreed, it was time for nourishment. She put a pot of coffee on the fire and prepared bacon and eggs. While she cooked she told me about her Aunt Marcia, a tall, too heavy blonde woman who from her description reminded me of Jeannette Cosmo.
"She's blonde, and a bit too heavy but men love that flesh. They love to grab those big tits or squeeze her big ass!"
"A pity that it was so damned dark and I couldn't see her."
"What good would it have done you? It would have just worked you up." "I did get worked up."
"All right, and you took it out on me. Was I so bad? Bah! She's too fat! But all the same the men love her."
"Listen, Barbara, there was no difficulty. entering you, so why do you insist that you were a virgin?"
"But I was. Ohh, I fooled around, of course. I think that by the time I was sixteen my breasts had been squeezed and my ass pinched and stroked by a hundred different boys. But not one got into me. Some even stripped me naked and put their tongues into the right place but that was all going in, a tongue and nothing else."
"I don't know, it sounds weird to me."
"Oh, I lost my hymen a long time before, horseback riding and doing gymnastics and dancing, so there was never a wall there. But believe me, your organ was the first to go in."
A virgin. Okay, if she claims she was let's let it go at that. However, in my mind she was still nympho and-trouble of sorts. I was still not forgetting her behavior at dinner and those expensive drinks.
Trouble awaited me everywhere; my destiny it seemed. But I always fought it even if it was an unconquerable enemy. Obviously Barbara was trouble. The best thing was to flee, leave her in this bed where she had been deflowered and get back to my Greenwich Village dump.
Her aunt walked in.
The same big blonde Marcia who had been pounded into joy by some character named Arnold came home, saw in seconds what was happening, in fact what had happened, and raised hell.
I looked a perfect idiot running naked for my clothes. The aunt called me a child molester despite the fact that Barbara was old enough to vote, a rapist, although it was the other way around, and a seducer. Obviously she knew Barbara had been a virgin.
Apologies were futile. I dressed haphazardly, avoided Barbara lying there in the bed crying and tried to get out. Aunt Marcia was in the hallway, standing before the door.
"Swine!"
"Look, I didn't want to come up here in the first place. Second, I didn't force Barbara in to bed at gun point. She wanted to go."
Wham! Bam! Dear blonde Auntie gave it to me across the face, left and right. The door was opened and with my head reeling I was pushed unceremoniously out. Some people waiting to take the elevator down drew back in alarm. They couldn't be blamed. Here is a guy getting the shit beaten out of him by some fat blonde. It should draw attention.
I rode down in the elevator with them, too ashamed to offer explanations. My eyes were riveted to the floor. In the street I started to hail a taxi, then remembered the amount of money I had dropped on Barbara. Thus, I opted for a bus.
Nearing my apartment building I noticed a man sitting in a car smoking. He seemed to catch my approach by looking up into the rear-view mirror. We exchanged looks but he turned away.
Just as I stepped inside one of the other tenants, a black man who I knew for a fact pushed heroin up in Harlem, signaled to me. We shook hands and I asked him how the trade was.
"Not bad, you know man, the cash flows but the trouble is I can't get the stuff. My supply is ceasing. Anyway, I better cool my operations for a while."
"It's a wonder the cops haven't gotten to you yet."
"Those that know get paid off."
He was a weird one, this pusher, tall, near-black in complexion, dressed in Super Fly clothes, leather pants, high-heeled red shoes, a wide belt, frill-front silk shirt, a long silk coat and a blue wide-brimmed hat. He wore a wig and had grown a moustache like a pirate's.
"Listen," I said. "Somehow I have the feeling I am being followed. Men pop up in the damnedest places."
"Stud out there in that old car, for instance, man?"
"Exactly."
"I thought it was the law, man, on to me. But nobody, I mean nobody, man, knows I live here. My business is conducted in Harlem and my clients think I live up there in that ghetto. No daddy, he's on to someone else. like maybe you."
"I am clean."
"That blonde you bring here to scream her ass off. That older woman. Married, isn't she?"
I caught the drift of his question. "Her husband, maybe."
"No maybe. That bastard out there is probably a private detective. Cool the scenes you make with that blonde, man."
As he turned away I stopped him. "Say...ahh, what do you know about Barbara?"
"The dancer? The skinny chick?"
"Yes."
"Lovely, daddy, lovely. Cute little ass on her." He held out his big hands. "Fit right in there, man."
"She screwing for anybody?"
"Nobody in this house. Least none I know of. Why? You interested?" "Against my will."
"Ohhh, I see. She's interested in you. Well, man, enjoy it while you can."
Upstairs I took a shower, shaved, settled in clean clothes, and began making notes for future articles. The business with Barbara was annoying, wonderful piece of ass that she had been. No one--likes being slapped about.
I made something to eat, played the radio and occasionally glanced out the window. The car with the watching man had gone. But I wouldn't breathe easier. There was a certainty that some other man would take his place.
Toward evening Jeannette Cosmo visited me. She breezed in, smelling of expensive perfume, all smiles, and wrapped her strong arms about me, kissing me repeatedly. Her body pasted to mine felt strange when I made a comparison with Barbara's slimness.
"You don't seem happy to see me, Frankie." She had removed her shoes and was already unbuttoning her smart-looking dress. Her bracelet, watch and rings were already on a table next to her handbag. Jeannette obviously wished to be naked in a hurry.
"Wait a minute, Jeannette."
The dress was about her ankles and she paused, standing with her long, heavy-fleshed legs apart, her underpants and brassiere sparkling white.
"What is the matter?"
"Look, how are things between you and your husband?"
"Did I hear you right?"
I nodded. "You did. Now what's going on?"
"I didn't come here to talk about him."
"Has he ever discussed the possibilities of a divorce with you?"
"Divorce! What is this, are you thinking of asking me to marry you? There's nothing I'd love more than a younger man on a permanent basis, darling. Especially if that man is you. But let's face it, you are penniless. I have lived in luxury too long to dO without it."
"Jeannette, I am being followed!"
"That is ridiculous."
"It is not. Perhaps your husband sees you as too costly a woman, someone who refuses to share his bed, and this is the best way to get rid of you."
"Hmmm!" She stepped out of her dress, leaving it on the floor although it must have cost a hell of a lot, and started to undo her brassiere. "Could be. But he wouldn't divorce me. What he might do is make a lot of trouble for you."
Trouble with Barbara and her aunt, trouble with Jeannette's husband. Oh, no, it would be too much.
"I think we ought to postpone the act and play it cool for a while. Your husband could sue me for alienation of affections. Worse than that, your sons could beat the shit out of me."
"Jesus, Frankie. I am dripping wet! What the hell do you mean postpone the act? Are you crazy?"
Barbara had taken too much out of me and now this blonde wanted to push me closer to the grave. I had no money to hire a lawyer to fight off her husband and I had no money for hospital expenses. What in hell was wrong with women these days?" "Let's talk a bit, eh?"
"We can talk afterwards." She flung the bra into my face. It smelled of her luscious body, warm, sweet, clean.
"No, Jeannette!"
"Really." Naked, she came closer, her generous hips swinging in rhythm with her breasts and curved bottom.
My hands clenched and unclenched as I fought my desires. Saliva bubbled in my mouth for there was the wish to sink my teeth into those globes bobbing on her rib cage. I backed off but Jeannette started to undress me.
It would not do to explain about Barbara, to number the amount of times I had engaged in intercourse with the slender dancer. Jeannette would smash a vase over my head.
"Too many things are troubling me...surely you understand."
"Don't worry, I won't scream this time." A touch of her fingers and my instrument trembled. She knelt, placed the still-soft tip between her rounded breasts and...well, there was no use fighting. My penis shot out from my body, fat, circular, thick at the base, slightly curved in the middle.
"Sex," I said, "life is all sex."
"Just a part of life, darling boy." Jeannette rose and backed off, every muscle in her thighs leaping. Her jutting breasts bounced up and down, their nipples pink and erect.
For my benefit, although since I was already excited there was no point, she went into a dance that was strictly Turkish harem style. She threw out her blonde hair, spread her legs apart and swayed her hips sensuously. It got to me, causing me to moan and gasp. And there the blonde, middle-aged bitch twisted, undulating her hips to the tempo of my gasps.
"All right, you won. Let's get into bed."
The juice was really dripping from her vaginal lips, causing the thick mound of pubic hair to sparkle, but Jeannette wanted to tease me. "Hee, heee!"
Laughing like a goddamned hyena and spinning around, rotating the cheeks of her ass. But my hands were all over them, my teeth sinking into the firm flesh. "There, you fat bitch, there!"
"Ow!
She struggled with me, saying that her husband would notice the teeth marks. Then I had her breasts and put my teeth there, plus a little chewing on the pink tips. I washed down the deep valley and crushed the globes together.
"Ooooohh, Frankie, Frankie!"
"That's my name." My staff slid right up against her wet slit and I told her she would be taken in the standing position.
"Oooh, yes, I love it like that!"
"Prepare yourself, baby!"
I held her ass while she bent backwards. Her stomach muscles leaped about, tightening and her long thighs hardened as I slammed my torso forward.
My breaming was like a whine and Jeannette's like a gasp as we connected. It was swift, quite easy, for this was no virgin I was handling. She quivered as a moan welled up in her throat I knew a scream was coming and killed it with a hard kiss.
The mating was hot, burning me up but I drove upwards, shoving up deep into the boiling hole. She undulated her hips, driving down on my rigid staff, and I gripped her ass, making her passions foam.
"Ohhh, no, Frankie, no, no!" Jeannette swung her head from side to side as I kept driving up, up. She screamed, stiffened and then started to fight me back, welcoming the ramming pressure of my weapon.
She was coming. The tip of my penis felt the whirlpool in her cavern and then it burst free, the bubbling cream swarming about my hard jabbing manhood. But man, I drove up into her harder. This time, her second climax was a flood.
"Frankie, Frankie...ahhhh, no, no, your thing...it is too brutal...ohhhh, no, no!"
She twisted, sweeping her breasts across my chest. I gasped, grabbed her gyrating ass and pumped away harder. "Yes, baby, yes, baby, yessss! Ahhhhh!"
Satisfied, we took the usual rest that should follow such an event. Jeannette kept glancing at her watch, trying to calculate how much time she had left to spend with me.
"There's no more action today, baby." "Who is thinking of that? But I do like being in your company."
"How about a drink?"
"Oh...well, in a little while."
"In that case then," I said, getting up from the bed, "I'll wash. Afterwards I'll mix us a batch of martini cocktails."
"That sounds wonderful."
I stepped into my bathroom to shower for the second time that day. The water washed away all traces of sex from my body. Better yet, it seemed to purify me, cleanse me of all apprehension. The troubles which rested so heavily on my shoulders a while ago were gone, washed down the drain.
But...as I turned off the faucets I heard shouting and screaming. Swiftly I dried my body, stepped into my shorts and ran out of the bathroom. What a sight greeted me!
There they were, the young brunette and the older blonde, battling away like two enemies. "Barbara! Jeannette!"
They heard me but I was ignored as they determined to make a prize-winning fight of it. Both tall but one young and slender, the other middle-aged and plump, using fists, teeth, knees, elbows and feet to harm not only each other but my furniture as well.
When I tried to separate them I took the beating and wound up on the floor, dazed. Jeannette's naked body was soon reddened from the blows but Barbara's clothing was torn off her slender frame. Worse for me, the outside door was open so all the damned unemployed creeps who lived in the same building were looking in, shouting and laughing.
That was not all. An older couple appeared in the company of a fat blonde whom I recognized instantly as Barbara's Aunt Marcia.
One thing though, these three joined in and broke the two women apart. Both of them, worn out by the fight, slumped into the chairs, breasts heaving, mouths open, eyes swimming.
"You!" The man pointed an accusing finger at me. He was gray-haired, well-dressed and quite dignified.
"Huh?" My mouth hung open.
"Seducing our daughter and then during the same day having sexual union with this woman!"
I looked to Barbara. These were her parents. Her Aunt Marcia was screaming at me, calling me all kinds of names.
"Ahh, shut up!" I said defiantly. "I saw some guy named Arnold knock you off. We are all from the same crowd, so go easy on the dirty words."
"And that woman!" She pointed at the poor, worn-out blonde. "Jeannette Cosmo of all people!"
They knew each other. Ohh, Christ, my world had really come to an end. I moaned and buried my head in my hands, not caring about anything anymore.
The parents chased the onlookers off and closed the door. Barbara was crying and Jeannette, well aware that dear Aunt Marcia would be on the phone to her husband, was apologizing, saying she did not know what had come over her.
"It was a moment of insanity, I assure you."
"Put your clothes on!" The old man snapped.
Jeannette obeyed, her ample body quivering, the breasts and buttocks shaking like all hell as she gathered her garments. She hopped into the bathroom, glad to be away.
As for me, I was chastised, criticized, threatened with jail and what not by the parents and that bitch of an aunt. They did not care for Barbara, these two. They paid for her to live elsewhere but suddenly she was their dear daughter, their poor suffering child.
Jeannette made a decent appearance in her expensive clothes, not at all the screaming whore who had come here to screw. She went on and on like an actress about that shitty "moment of insanity."
It was agreed that nothing would be reported to her husband if she got out of my life. She went without looking back. The door was locked and then I received orders, here in my apartment, to get dressed.
Afterwards we sat around, the three older people, a half-naked Barbara and myself. It seemed that the parents, on a visit to New York, had contacted Aunt Marcia and discovered Barbara there. The story of my seduction was told in full and following that, the parents wished to meet me to apply a bit of moral blackmail.
"Barbara wishes to marry you," the father said.
"Love at first sight, she said." This from the mother, a skinny prune of a woman.
Aunt Marcia threatened with, "if Cosmo finds out from me what you've been up to with his wife. Oh la la!"
It was ridiculous but it went on and on. The father condemned me for writing dirty stories, the mother lashed out that I lived like a hippie, a man of my age and Barbara began to weep, stating she was certainly pregnant.
Telling these ass-holes that I had no money did not matter. The father was determined to offer me a new start in life.
"Responsibilities will make a new man of you. My daughter is not only beautiful but brainy. She has a head on her shoulders. We shall get you a decent place to live, not like this rat's nest A little money to start you off and voila."
Voila, indeed. The ass-hole wanted to-show me that he had studied French. Probably gotten a lousy mark for it too.
Barbara sat up on my lap, pressing her firm little buttocks into my soft weapon. She slipped an arm around my neck and kissed me warmly, calling me her husband.
"I'll be a good wife to you, Frankie."
The father brought out his checkbook. "Marriage will do you both good. You'll have enough for a start, as I have stated."
"A car, daddy?"
"Perhaps."
"Some furniture?"
"Naturally."
"Hey," she bounced up and down, slamming her ass into my thing, actually hurting it. "What about a color television?"
"That would be a luxury. However, most programs are made in color these days. Very well. I have only one daughter and she gets married only once."
My fate was sealed. I was a dead man. Later, I would see that I was one of the twentieth century's biggest cowards, but now I was headed for the altar.
CHAPTER FIVE
My life took a decidedly bad turn. Marriage with Barbara was a nightmare. Sure, she was lovely and beautifully curved and a sensation in bed, but no one spends twenty-four hours a day screwing. She was lazy, spoiled and given to fits of temper. A rich girl, with wealthy relatives all over-you would think I'd be swimming in luxury. Far from it. Immediately after the wedding ceremony her parents cut off Barbara's monthly allowance. "You've got a husband to support you now," they said. "Let him do what we had to do for twenty-one years."
And Barbara took the Cadillac convertible we had been gifted with and sold it. The money went right into her private account, wherever it was. I never did discover the name of her bank. But it was a sweet bit of action on her part. I expected after that she'd sell the furniture or the stereo set or the color television, anything.
Living in a good neighborhood didn't break her of her Greenwich Village bohemian habits. The apartment was filled all day long and sometimes well into the night too with her friends. Every damned queer from the dancing school lounged about on the furniture drinking wine or eating at my expense. Dance practice was held in the front room with these fairies spinning around on their toes or leaping into the air to the accompaniment of Swan Lake.
They all wore clothes so tight that it was a wonder they were able to walk or bend. The girls especially with their black T-shirts and black leotards, always smelling of perspiration but showing their tits and asses to full advantage. Some were beauties too, with their pony tails and haughty expressions. But sex with any of them was out. Barbara would have raised hell.
While all this was going on I had to work. Now, more than ever I had to churn out stories for that shitty journal, writing about people who never existed. On the side I held down a regular job with a firm that supplied temporary office help to different companies. I was paid by the hour and in all truth cannot say the pay was good.
So there I'd be, sitting in one corner of the apartment writing about two Lesbians dueling for the love of an innocent girl or bullshitting about a girl who could only screw in airplanes. The telephone would ring. It would be the temporary service, advising me to report for work the next day. And the places they sent me to! Holes far out in Brooklyn or dumps in the wilds of Staten Island. And not having a car meant using subways and switching to buses. All this to support Barbara.
There were few people for me to complain to so I took my sad story to Jeannette Cosmo. We would meet in coffee houses or small bars to discuss the problem and she would always say:
"Leave her! It's simple. Are you so much in love with her?"
"No."
"Then what is it, guilt?"
"I don't know...it just doesn't seem right."
"Of course it's not right. You working your behind off to support her and all those spongers."
"If I walk out she can take me to court for non-support. You know the laws here."
"Look, Frankie, she is a healthy young girl quite able to work. No theatrical producer or ballet impresario will sign her up as a dancer. Let's face it. You should have gotten an indication of what she was the first night you took her to dinner."
"Well, you know, she was a virgin."
"So was I. Once!"
I sighed, not knowing what else to say. But Jeannette hammered away at my telling me that I had to be hard, selfish, think only of myself, first, last and always.
"The world, you should know by now, Frankie, is a pretty shitty place. And life is a dirty joke. People are rotten, they only want to take. If you can't give to them you're garbage to be tossed aside."
"If that's the case what about you and me?"
"I need sex and you offer a good, hard penis. I offer you a body that is still good and capable of all movements in bed. I can sympathize with you now but I also want you in me. If there comes a time when you won't screw me, it's good-bye."
"Jeannette.. . "
"Yes?"
"Barbara is somewhat of a nympho. She wears me out at night."
"You mean there's nothing left to give other sex-hungry females like me?" "Yes."
"We're going to a hotel right now and see."
"Jesus, Jeannette...I don't know."
"We'll find out. Otherwise, Frankie, it's au revoir. This affair with you has been good but it is still dangerous. Suppose my husband discovered us. See what I mean? People just seeing us sitting here will put two and two together. So if you can't fuck then forget it."
I wondered if I could get the old tool up. Then I studied her body, the overlarge breasts, thickening waistline and wide hips. Just a few inches or a few pounds short of being a fat woman. But always excellent in the sack.
"Okay, I'll chance it."
Jeannette looked around to make certain no one was watching and pecked at my lips. "Sweet boy."
The nearest hotel charged us double for the room, and in advance. The smirking hotel clerk knew what we were up to, a young man and a big, middle-aged woman. He was a cheat, as so many of them are, and put half the take into his dirty pockets.
The room of course was shabby but it didn't matter. After all our intention was to rent it for a quickie, not for any long stay. While I pulled down the shades Jeannette undressed. I turned in time to see her panties fall on the floor and her dress being pulled up over her alabaster white thighs. God, were they round, and between them that thick bush of cunt hair with the pinkish lips of the cunt itself peeping through.
A hot passion possessed me and I stripped down to my skin, my penis already straight out and ready. It was going to be good to be in Jeannette once more, bang her solid body after being forced to screw only Barbara.
Naked, Jeannette lay on her back in the narrow bed, a sigh escaping her lovely mouth, one leg drawn up. Already, wetness was oozing out of her slit, the anticipation of sex increasing her lust.
We kissed and she sucked on my lips, bit my tongue and floated her ass high. I clutched her full bosom, squeezing the hills while my weapon on its own went straight to the target like a guided missile. Entrance was accomplished and the woman fell back as if fainting.
"Darling...ooohhh, you are so hard!" "Jeannette...ahhh, it's wonderful to be in you again."
"I was so afraid that you couldn't fuck any more...oohh God, this is delightful."
She was still but her hips and buttocks were restlessly in action. I lowered my head to kiss the hollow in her throat and pass my lips over the upright breasts with their stiff nipples. Her breathing quivered and her body trembled, starting with her shoulders and rippling down to her hips, as her hole blazed, burning my tool.
With my dong now firmly lodged I encircled her hips firmly, held tight to those always moving balls and shoved with all the power I possessed. For a moment she let out such a yell that I thought she was hurt. Worse, it seemed that her breathing ceased altogether but it was the desperate second before the climax. After a gigantic spasm that caused me to ride high the juices of lust poured from the slit.
The interior of her being was on fire even as the wet stuff oozed out. My strokes, always measured, kept on. Jeannette breathed more loudly but slowly and held my pumping buttocks with both hands.
"I never...came so quickly...ooohhhh, and it was a terrible thing...darling, all fiery!"
I felt the big calves of her legs press around my waist as her ass floated up and stayed up. In that moment that ass, two hard cheeks of grinding flesh, never once came down. A half-dozen eggs could be laid in the very spot where her ass should be without being broken.
"Ahhh...ahhhh, Jeannette!"
My shaft was determinedly hard and I drove steadily into her wet cunt, hammering out a new road between the passageway. She heaved up yelling, her strong thighs holding me, her fists pounding my back.
Her screams excited me even more as my big, blunt-edged prick deepened the path. I grasped her movable ass and pumped away. She came, and came, and came, every last drop of lust flowing.
"NOOOOO!"
"Yeahhhh. I am giving it to you for everything." "No, Frankie, no, no!"
My strokes reached an impossible pace and then I burst, filling her loins with a fiery lava. But I kept rising and falling until nothing, not even air, came out of my tool and all sensation was past.
We broke apart, yours truly really a worn-out shell of a man. But Jeannette to show her appreciation licked up all the juice from my penis and smeared my testicles with hot kisses.
"Darling, darling!"
She requested that I perform on her. Sure I would do it, but there had to be a bit of a wash-up first. She complied with my wishes and I got her into position then forced my tongue into her closed-up but freshly washed slit, sending thrills to dwell there. She screamed the walls of the hotel down and came.
When I sat up, my face was covered with her flow, but better for us both, my manhood was again a length of stone. She sighted it, put a hand to her head and said: "What...again!"
"Naturally."
'Then, what the hell! Come on!"
She spread her long legs wide, arched her body and sheathed my weapon once more. Back to work it was for the two of us, screwing and screwing the afternoon away. Man! Jeannette was wonderful!
Barbara was suspicious of me but made no remarks. She noticed that I was tired, in no mood for conversation or food or drink. Rest was what I wanted. The questions did not come simply because she had the apartment filled as usual with her guests.
That night, however, in bed, she tried to arouse me. This time I got mad and shouted at her to leave me to hell alone. She did roll over to her side of the bed but not without some threats.
"I don't know...Frankie, you are acting peculiar."
"If anyone is peculiar around here it's those idiots visiting us."
"They are artists."
"Yeah, so am I."
"Frankie, I warn you. Tomorrow morning you may come up with one of two things." "Huh?"
"You come up with a damned good erection for me or else a good excuse for not having that erection." We slept.
CHAPTER SIX
The days dragged by and life with Barbara became more suffocating by the day. I couldn't relax for one moment. Music was played continuously, all day long, and we were alone only at night, after the last ballet dancer had been shoved out the door. I complained because I had to get up early the next day and go off to work.
Barbara would think she was rewarding me by offering her body but then I suppose my performance became so casual that she soon became disinterested. We would bed down, say good night and turn our faces in opposite directions. The next morning the alarm would go off, I'd make my own breakfast and leave. In the evening I'd return to find the characters there, dancing, humming to the classical music, talking, talking.
Sometimes to escape the antics of those freeloaders who wrecked my apartment and annoyed me with their behavior I would go to the bar situated on the corner of our street. It was a dark place, always discreetly lighted, where couples sat in booths and talked softly. It was never filled with customers and, what was important, no one bothered you.
One evening two men, business types, youngish, say thirty-five, dressed conservatively, stood near me chatting. I was hunched over the bar, my behind barely parked on the stool, both hands laced around a double Scotch. How in hell was I going to get out of this setup with Barbara, I wondered. How?
One of the men accidentally bumped into me and apologized. I told him to forget it and went on staring into my drink.
"What's the matter, you don't like parties?"
"Huh?" I was far off, in some other world.
"We live next door to you," the man went on. "And we've seen the constant parade of characters leaping and dancing in and out of your place."
"Ohh! My wife's colleagues. Ballet dancers," I sneered. "Eat my food, drink my liquor, take up space."
They laughed and made a joke out of it. We started to talk and both admitted to being married, twice. "It's not for us, not for either of us."
At first I wondered if they were queer, sharing a flat, but both, while pleasant-faced and always smiling, seemed hard. Introductions were made and I learned they were Jack and Alan. Cousins, from the West Coast.
"California, mainly."
"Uh huh." I said as if it was nice to know.
They invited me up to their place to continue the drinking. I followed and as the three of us left the elevator to walk down the hall in the direction of our apartments I heard the noise blasting out of my flat.
"The party never ends," said Alan.
"Some beautiful girls swinging their asses in there all the time," said Jack. "You lay many of them?" : '
"With my wife always on the scene? Never happens."
Their apartment was furnished with antiques, old English stuff mostly, good carpets, a series of water colors instead of oils on the walls, few books though many magazines, a filled liquor cabinet and a monstrous color television set. The latter was standard anyway, in most New York apartments.
Their business kept them out of town most of the time, they said. Since they wished to know how I earned my money I gave it to them.
"A scandal rag! You write that shit!" They both died from laughter.
When I told them I was also a temporary office worker that brought on an even bigger laugh. Their laughing only added to my misery. I found nothing funny in my situation.
A few hours later with quite a bit of their liquor under my belt we shook hands and I left.
A few days passed with me hustling between jobs, rushing, getting caught in the rain, appearing for work looking like a drowned rat. I visited Jack and Alan and complained bitterly.
"Your wife Barbara is a sweet-looking chick."
"Yeah," said the other, "lovely face and that body! Slender but curves in all the right places. Man!"
"To employ a cliche," said I, "sex is not everything. And she's not giving me much of that lately either."
The two men exchanged looks. Finally one said: "We'll have our own party, fellow, and invite you in. How about it?"
"Any time. Just rap on the door or else catch me in the bar downstairs."
An agreement was made and I thought nothing more about it. Before leaving I asked to use their toilet. The bathroom was spotless, scrubbed clean. However, their soiled linen, piled in a wicker hamper, bulged up high. As I stood over the toilet bowl taking a leak I nonchalantly reached down to push the dirty shirts and sheets lower. It was none of my business actually, just impulse. My fingers encountered something hard, something metallic.
A pistol!
Stunned, I uncovered it and with my mouth hanging open saw it to be one of the world's most powerful handguns, a .357 Magnum Smith & Wesson revolver. If a bullet from that baby hit you it kept on going, right through your body!
What were these guys, Jack and Alan? Bodyguards? Private detectives? Gangsters?
I left the bathroom feeling more than a little strange. But I put on a good face as I said good-bye. That night in bed Barbara was in the mood for loving. I lay on my side, thinking about those lads, remembering that they kept weird hours, sometimes leaving late at night or quite early in the morning. They kept a car in the garage across the street, a Dodge Challenger, but seldom used it.
"Frankie!" Barbara started to run her hand down my arm. "No, baby."
"Oh, come." She put her nose in my hair and opened her warm mouth on the back of my neck.
Even as I started to get hard my mind contained questions concerning these two lads next door. Professional killers maybe.
Barbara's arm slid around my waist and dropped lower to clutch my manhood. Voluptuous sighs escaped her throat and her breasts firmly planted against my back were tightening, the tips getting harder.
At length she exerted strength, forcing me on my back and climbed on top of me. She kissed me hard, exploring the inside of my mouth. My penis was now an upright column, a concrete monument between her slender thighs. She was hot this evening, don't ask me why, but I felt the juice dripping out of her slot to slide down my rod.
She asked for a bit of cooperation, then finally became demanding. "Damn it, are you my husband or not? You think this is a sin? We are married!"
I had to raise up a little while she guided me between the already parted lips into the heat of her hole. There was a burning sensation, especially around the tip of my penis, and then wetness as the vaginal lips closed around the hilt.
Her small, rounded ass moved up and down slowly and a delightful thrill overtook me. I looked up into her pretty face and saw that she was shuddering with passion, her breath coming raggedly while her eyes were closed.
Fires blazed throughout her slender, round-breasted body as she groaned and worked, the grinding action of her ass never ceasing. With every one of my upward jolts she let out a cry.
I held one arm about her neck, keeping her bosom firmly pasted to my chest, the other hand held her ass cheeks, keeping it from jerking up too high. Passion caught her and her breath was a series of hisses.
Now she rose and fell harder, smashing her belly against mine. Her vagina, so tight before, became loose, bigger, and she howled as the orgasm occurred. Her ass went on gyrating through every phase of the climax and then she moaned like a hurt puppy and fell limp. The big vagina shrank, tightening, the walls closing, the lips locking.
"Uh, uh, uh!"
A good one for Barbara but I was still thinking about the gun-carrying lads who were my new acquaintances. A strange situation indeed, me with my pole shoved up into this wet sheath and occupying my mind with other matters. No, Frankie, do your duty. I began to screw Barbara as a man should.
When I withdrew she whined out, "noooo!"
"Wait! I want to get on top of you."
"Oh!"
Her strong, slender body had melted and all the hard young muscles relaxed. She was pliable, like soft rubber, mine to do with as I wished. Her eyes opened, and a pleased smile went around her shapely lips. The fragrance of her loins floated about us like a musky cloud.
Raw lust had me now and all thoughts of the two men vanished. As I knelt between Barbara's outstretched legs my penis stood out like an arrow from my loins. She elevated herself, digging her heels into the bed, the thin lips of her privates parting, the wet pubic hairs making a crinkling noise.
Wham! I speared in, sticking it in, all the way in with a hammering blow. Barbara winced; the swiftness of the act registered on her youthful face but already she was in action, tossing her buttocks all around.
This time it was wonderful, if maddening, with us two wild beasts engaged in sexual battle. Her lean thighs closed about me as I rose and fell. But my bar was in there, ripping, tearing, plunging, making her howl like a lone wolf out on the barren plains of the wild west.
"Yes, yes, my man, fuck me, fuck me hard!"
Barbara's legs wrapped tight about my waist. Her fingers went into my hair, bringing my face down. Her mouth met mine and her body met my thrusts, rising up as I came down.
The lining of her vagina was wrapped tightly about my plundering penis, bringing me to the far distant shores of hot ecstasy. Rhythmically in and out I went shooting lightning-like pleasure into her.
My young girl screamed and shouted that my penis had gone crazy, was thumping too hard within her. She was now insane, a wild creature, rearing up to meet all downward strokes and climaxing.
Her insides were loaded with gasoline and my prick was a lighter. Boom! There was the explosion and flames. I had to put out that fire, and swiftly too. A shock ran along the base of my spine and I doused her with my creamy seed. "Aggghhhhh!"
"Come, come, keep on coming!"
I squirted like all hell, pouring my thick spunk into that blazing hole. Yet this girl, all hardness and muscle now still continued to ram herself up, moving in unison with my final strokes.
"There, there, there I have you!" Barbara used her wicked ass and loins to drain every last drop from my whang dang. She sighed and gasped while her water flowed but I kept on shooting into her until I imagined I would faint
"Do you love me, Frankie?"
"You know I do."
"This fuck just now isn't sufficient proof." "Then God, what in hell is? I work hard for you, don't I?"
"Sometimes you're a no-good son of a bitch, Frankie."
Christ she just popped off like a traffic light, got herself all fucked out and now she was berating me, carrying on like a screaming wife. What in hell was this?
"Barbara, look, why talk about this now? I am happy, you are happy. So let's say good night and get to sleep."
"A lay, a legal lay, that's all I am."
"Ahhh, baby."
"You take no interest in my art." "Your art?"
"My dancing, you bastard!" "It's late, Barbara, please."
"And what's with you and those two pigs next door?"
"Friendly guys, that's all."
"One of the boys here," she named a colleague, a homosexual dancer, "he says that they are stick-up men. He was in a supermarket last week up in the Bronx when two men entered and forced the manager to open the safe."
"And?"
"They resembled those two next door."
"Oh, come on, your queer friends have overworked imaginations."
We argued some more until she finally went to sleep.
The following evening Jack and Alan invited me to a party. I dressed, told Barbara some lie and sneaked next door. It started out small, just the three of us and then in came three tall, slim girls, all bleached blondes but looking like photo models. I was introduced, the drinking started, music was played and more people came. Within one hour the apartment was packed with about forty visitors.
Three or four stiff drinks loosened me and I found myself enjoying the conversation, making jokes and dancing. The party went on and on. Some people got sick and heaved in the bathroom, others passed out.
Soon, I lost track of all the girls I chatted with, but one of the model types, a blonde who was taller than I and well-curved, showed an interest in me. It turned out that her name was Victoria and she was from the west, Omaha, Nebraska.
"And you are a model, eh?" I asked. "Are you kidding?"
"Well...you look like one, you walk like one." I was sitting in an armchair, holding a drink while she sat nearby. She rose, smoothed her silk dress over the plump ass and plopped down on my lap. She leaned forward and the thick, mass of her silky but unnatural blonde hair came over her face, hiding all but her nose and mouth. She whispered into my ear: "I'm a devil."
Of course, her lips caused the usual chills to race up and down my back. Worse, her buttocks, pressing into my lap separated, one cheek going this way, the other in another direction. The penis sleeping comfortably in. my trousers woke up and became active.
"Oh, are you a party girl?"
"Sort of." She pasted her mouth to mine and gave me a hot and professional kiss.
I broke for air. "Wow!"
"You're cute." She mussed up my hair.
"Thanks, and you're beautiful."
"I know that. I hear it all the time. Tell me something else, something original."
I thought. "Well, you've got a good ass."
"like it, do you." Her smile got larger and her eyes, a sort of black-brown, shone from merriment
She way beautiful. Good cheekbones, a sculptured nose and mouth, perfect chin and those eyes that were set so wide apart. The sort of a face you could look into forever. But it was her ass, burrowing into my lap, that was the topic of discussion. She employed certain muscles, making the cheeks twist together or separately.
"Hey?"
"How is that?"
"Not doing me too much good, I must say."
Jack and Alan, in between taking care of the needs of their guests, would attend to the tape recorder, open up new bottles of liquor or go into the kitchen to bring out fresh cuts of meat and cheeses. They lighted cigarettes, offered cigars to those wishing them and saw to it that everyone had a good time.
For a moment I watched them, taking in the hardness of their faces, the carefully combed brown hair, the muscles rippling beneath their well-tailored suits. Behave like twins, I thought, moving in the same way, athletically, well-timed, their smiles fixed.
They noticed me and came over, Jack speaking first "Ahh, I see you've made the aquaintance of little Victoria."
"She's not so little."
"Victoria is always on a diet," smiled Alan.
"I have to be," she said, "no one--likes fat girls." She took a deep breath, throwing her breasts up high. "That's where the fat should go but instead it goes to that section parked on this nice boy's instrument."
Ahh, so she was aware of my erection. Good.
"Frankie is a very special friend of ours," said Alan in very even tones. "Isn't he, Jack?"
Jack agreed. "A good friend."
I noticed that when these boys smiled their eyes, small, narrow, remained hard.
Victoria sighed and stood up, tall, slender, all curves and roundness with legs half the length of her body and that rippling ass. "In that case let's take care of him. He knows what I am so now let us see what he is."
I remained in the armchair, my mouth hanging open, completely perplexed. She reached down to grab my hand, telling me to come on, little boy. Reluctantly I got up, looking into the faces of the two hosts. "But...here, in this apartment?" Jack shrugged. "You can't use yours, not with that ballet group hopping around like rabbits."
"Two beds are in there," stated Alan. "Use one of them. Go on."
When we reached the bedroom Victoria kicked off her shoes, removed her earrings, rolled down her stockings and pulled off her expensive dress. She wore only white silk panties, nothing else and what was more she was swift, professionally swift. I had barely closed the door and gone at my necktie when she was naked.
"Come, Frankie, darling, we haven't all night. I want to get back to the party."
Stripped bare, I rushed into this blonde dream's arms. She embraced me, laughing and pressed her slender thighs and flat belly against me, moving back, arching so that her full globes went flying up like suddenly released balloons.
She was tall enough to be screwed standing without any difficulties. The head of my instrument was pinched and sucked in between the vaginal lips, easily, without any preparations. While I recovered from this sudden surprise Victoria exerted a tremendous suction and pulled my entire length up into her.
"Jesus, sweetheart, there is nothing slow about you." "Mmmmm!" She kissed me swiftly, breathing into my mouth. "The boys ordered me to treat you right, didn't they?" She writhed her ball-shaped ass, dug her fingernails into my back and moved, milking my penis with her well-trained vagina.
She was tight but powerful, as the muscles in her quim tightened and contracted and loosened. As I slammed against her, Victoria arched spasmodically and raised one leg high to lock around my thigh. I palmed her writhing ass and plowed her business out.
"Hey!" Surprise showed on her beautiful face. "You got me hot!"
"Shouldn't I have?" I tore in and out non-stop, letting her know that that was the general idea, getting her hot
"But..." she cried out and held me tight. "You...you don't understand...I am excited...ohhh, God help me." She pumped her ass at me. "Please."
I kissed her, biting her lower lip and shoved what I had big and hard into the socket. Her hair had loosened, and the wealth of it, long and shining blonde, was thrown about. Her long, slender body twisted sinuously as the well-constructed ass I captured performed a rhumba.
"Yeeeee!" Her brown eyes bugged from her head. "I'm coming!"
My desire, the full, curving and hard length of it was a hot pulsing hose in her soft pinkness. With my mouth set in a hard line I went up, up, standing on my toes to pour everything into this slim, twisting and slightly crazy blonde.
She wriggled like a fish caught in a net so rapidly that I was unable to match her activity. Words poured out of the beautiful mouth I had just kissed. "Oohhh, darling, darling, what an explosion! Shit! Piss! Fart! I'm coming!"
Her ass was jerking furiously and she bent her back as her joys gushed forth, washing my sword, and she slammed at me with her revolving belly and tried to crush me with her hard thighs.
She had to pause a bit after that, and lie down. I half-carried, half-dragged her to the bed. She babbled on. "Oohh, what a pleasure...ohhh, shit, that was a come! Piss, piss, I farted my brains out as I exploded...ooohhh."
I was concerned with her breasts, those two melon-shaped boobs with their strawberry tips. I licked and bit and kissed, becoming more eager. Her passions, never slumbering, soared high again and her ass started to twist.
"Can...you...again?"
"Sure! I didn't come yet."
"But I did...ohhh, God!"
She parted her thighs and brought her legs up and I stuffed my instrument deep in her snatch, pushing until her blazing lips came against my pubic hairs. I rested a second in all that bubbling warmth. Then I started my steady thrusts.
"Eeeeoooohhh...yes, yes, yes!" Victoria's long legs were jerking and her ass rotated in abandon.
I was perfectly calm, able to enjoy the session, but she was headed for the lunatic asylum. She bubbled with hot rapture when I sent the tip of my tongue around the edge of her ear.
"Ohhh, God, no, don't do that!"
I kissed her throat, sank my teeth into her rounded chin and palmed her breasts, separating them, widening the deep crevice. She was surging all over the bed like a liquid woman, the coming climax causing her to shout. She had a grenade inside her and it exploded.
"Aiiiieeeeee!"
She was a tall girl of speed and fury, accelerating at a terrific pitch under me, flowing and shaking her head violently from side to side. I felt her ankles locking around, the small of my back while her body thrashed in a furious tantrum.
My penis was imbedded in her like a stick in freshly poured concrete. It was there to stay despite her numerous climaxes. My control was at its peak and I could not come unless I let myself go. She began to cry, actually leak tears.
"I better stop, this is hurting you."
"Noooo...I don't give a fucking damn if it kills me, man. Hammer away!"
Who knows when I came, maybe sometime in the early morning when the party was over. Victoria was no longer in the game. She had climaxed well over twenty times and simply dropped out, lying there with her tired legs and arms outstretched, her body no longer moving.
When I ejaculated into her she only murmured, not saying one word as I filled her quim with my cream. I lay atop her, gasping, waiting until my tool shrank to normal size and fell out Then I rolled over on my side and slept.
Sometime later, one of them, Jack or Alan rested a hand on my shoulder. My eyes opened. "If you want to stay here you can, you know."
"No, no," I raised my head, thinking Barbara would raise hell if she found the bed empty. "I better get back to my apartment."
Victoria, looking groggy, got up, swung her legs over the side of the bed and hung her head, her blonde hair sliding forward. "Man, what a turn! This guy, this Frankie here, what he did to me!"
We were left alone. I smiled at her but she saw nothing humorous in the situation. A man screwing her almost to the grave was no joke. We dressed in silence and then, with her breasts heaving and her eyes closed and her mouth looking terribly dry Victoria held out her hand.
"Pay me."
"What?"
"I said pay me, man. Put some dollars into my hand. That wasn't for laughs, you know."
"Hey! Wait a minute, what the fuck are you, a call girl?"
"Well, what in hell do you think I am, a model? Maybe you think I'm some stupid typist or waitress who lets herself get banged for fun. Man, that's my living and I just worked for my pay so hand it over."
I was staggered, I looked about thinking Jack or Alan would be there to be questioned. But the door was closed and I was alone with Victoria the call girl in this bedroom.
"But hell, I didn't expect.. . "
"All right, so it came a surprise. Your making me come so often came as a surprise too because it never happens. Good, we were both surprised and now we are even. Cough up, man, two hundred dollars." "Two hundred!"
"That's what the tall, blonde and beautiful girl said, man. Two hundred. Not two, or twenty-two but two hundred."
"I had a fast forty in my wallet last time I looked."
Victoria shook her head. "Look again, sonny and find another one hundred sixty to go with it. Two bills, buster!"
I told her to wait a minute and went looking for the boys. I explained the situation to them. Jack returned with me to the bedroom, ignored Victoria, opened a drawer that was filled with money and peeled two one hundred dollar notes from the top. "Here."
Victoria put it away. "Thanks."
He clapped me on the shoulder. "Forget it, you didn't know, so what the hell."
I was still in a daze. "Gee, I just didn't know she was a call girl, otherwise...listen, I'll pay you back as soon as I can."
"No, forget it. You hustle too hard to make ends meet. You get paid pennies and we know you lead a pretty rotten life. Here!"
Jack, that wonderful man, a true prince, put his hands again into the pile of money and counted out five hundred dollars. I was reluctant to take it so he shoved it into my pocket.
"But why?"
"Because you're okay, that's why. Go spend it on yourself but don't let that bitch you're married to know about it"
"Boy!" Victoria twisted her mouth. "I get two lousy hundred for moving my ass like a machine and he gets five for enjoying the screw."
"Shut up, you tramp!" Jack snarled. "You had one orgasm after another. Think we all didn't hear you out there? I invited you to entertain the guests, not charge them. Get out!"
Victoria's face flamed but she passed between us and out the door without saying one word. I was embarrassed but still a little elated.
"Jack, it has been a great party!"
Again, he clapped me on the shoulder. "Go home now and get some rest."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Instead of blowing the five hundred dollars on nonsense I hoarded it. Oh, I did buy a few new-styled shirts and some wide neckties and a good pair of shoes but the rest of the money was passed over into my household as 'earnings.' That temporary office job I held was not for me. So when assignments were offered I turned them down but pretended to Barbara that they were accepted. Thus, I left the house every morning, supposedly to go to work. I visited museums, went to the cinema, took walks, spent time in the library reading and in general examined my conscience and my life. At the end of the week I flashed a little money, telling Barbara I had just gotten paid.
The boys next door became friends and they told me how they operated. Jack and Alan were, as Barbara and her ballet friends figured, gangsters. Not members of any big-time gang but just two loners, pulling off robberies and living on the proceeds.
Each carried guns, besides the .357 Magnum Smith & Wesson revolver, a big Colt .45 automatic because it was a real frightener. Then they would change their clothes, alter hair styles, paste fake moustaches on their upper lips, wear black glasses and go out to steal two cars.
One car would be left a short distance from the place they intended to rob and the other stolen vehicle would be driven to the actual scene of the robbery. They would march in to say a large store, seek out the manager and show him their guns.
"A stick-up," they would whisper. "Hand over your cash."
Supermarkets, cinema houses, used-car places, radio and television stores, finance companies, liquor stores and so forth, always in far-out sections of the city, meaning at the end of the Bronx, Brooklyn, Staten Island and Upper Manhattan.
"The best place is Harlem," Jack would say. "There's so much crime there, blacks holding up cigar stores for pennies, that the police don't even bother looking. When we walk in, two white guys, the managers are always surprised. They never expect a hold-up. If we would be black, okay, but two white men have got to be coming there on business. It always works out fine."
"Ever shot anyone?"
"Never. And don't intend to. These guns are to frighten the crowd, that's all. Now and then we put a bullet into a ceiling but that's as far as it goes."
"What about banks?"
"No, no!" They shook their heads violently, almost angered by the question.
Jack said: "That brings the Federal government in since banks are Federal property. Then we would have the F.B.I, coming after us."
Alan agreed. "We can handle the city or state cops. Some of them expect to be paid off if they catch you but the F.B.I, is something else."
"What's worse are the Italians, oohh man!" Jack urged his partner to tell about a team of Mafia men who were hunting them.
"Oh, yeah, that's because of this stick-up out in Las Vegas. A gambling joint run by spaghetti eaters. It was early in the morning, all the players and croupiers gone, just two house managers counting out the take and a guard near-by half-asleep. We waltzed in with silencers attached to our guns and put a couple of slugs in the wall and the desk to let them know we meant business."
"We did not have to say a word," Jack said. "They put eighty thousand dollars into three canvas bags and handed it over. We were dressed like Mexicans. Dark skin, black wigs, fake moustaches. Man, we tore out of there, abandoned the car right in the streets of Las Vegas, switched to our getaway car, changed clothes, lost that car and walked back to our hotel."
I had to whistle. "Some achievement."
"The cops were worthless but phone calls were made and the entire area was swarming with Italian killers looking for two Mexicans. We couldn't get on a plane because the authorities search you to see if you're carrying weapons. So we stuck around, doing a little gambling, swimming in the pool, fucking the call girls. Then we caught a bus to Los Angeles, bought a car there and drove East."
"Those wops are still hunting us."
"Were you ever caught?"
"Sure! We each did about eight years in prison. I pulled a stretch of two down south, in Louisiana. A three year rap in Texas and I went in for a five to ten in Colorado State prison but got out after three years."
Alan said, "I did four in Sing Sing, a year out in California, one in Ohio and two with him, in Louisiana."
"How long have you been in this game?" "Ohh, Jesus, eighteen years for me." Jack laughed. " "Twenty is more like it for me," said Alan. "And you'll go on like this?"
"We have Swiss bank accounts. In that drawer you saw me open the other night," said Jack, "is about twenty-five thousand. We add to it weekly since we go to work two to three times a week. Sometimes we drop in a few hundred, other times several thousand."
"But..." I couldn't see the sense of this. "Suppose you get caught? The police will search your apartment. That money won't be taken to the station house, it'll go into their pockets."
"We been thinking of that." Jack rubbed his chin and looked at Alan.
Alan's face was hard. 'That's where you come in, kid. We are going to give you a key to this apartment If we get caught you'll know about it soon enough.
Take that money out, plant it in a special bank account and go to a lawyer whose name we'll give you."
"But...it's stolen money. I'll be an accessory and liable to a jail sentence too."
"True enough, that's why we'll give you a share, make taking the chance worth your while."
"Why not give your lawyer the key?"
"What a joke! It'd be like throwing that money out the window. No, we sized you up and see you are a pretty fair guy. Marrying that skinny young girl was stupidity on your part. And the way you go crazy about every woman is also stupid. But we feel you can be trusted."
A key was handed over along with the name of their lawyer. I was told to take a third of whatever was in the drawer for myself. "If it comes to thirty thousand I get ten, right?"
"Right. If it's only eighteen thousand left you take six. If it's just three grand, well, then you're sticking your neck out for just a fast one thousand."
We said no more about it but I returned to my apartment floating on air, paying no attention to Barbara or her crazy friends.
A week later Barbara's parents dropped in. It was the one day when the apartment was empty. At once her father started lecturing me on getting a proper job, acting like a man who knows what responsibilities are.
He went on and on, with his bitch of a wife adding her comments. And all the time sweet Barbara just sat there, nodding her head or smiling.
"Suppose you have a child," the old man snarled. "Why, this, this temporary position you hold down, typing bills or letters for various firms, that is for a high school girl."
"And that newspaper!" The mother shrieked. "God almighty!"
"Yes, that yellow journal. 'Raped in a toilet' or 'Giant Man Wants to Set Up House with Midget Woman'. Ye Gods! No, no, that cannot go on."
"I am open to suggestions."
"Find yourself at an employment agency bright and early tomorrow morning. State that you wish to become a trainee with an insurance company or a bank."
"The meat plant," chirped his wife, "tell him about that."
"Goddamn right I will. Barbara's aunt, you know her.. . "
Indeed I did, the big fat nymphomaniac who was a first-rate stinking bitch. "So?"
"She owns a meat plant out in New Jersey. She will hire you to work there, as a supervisor of sorts if all else fails."
"What the hell do I know about meat except eating it? Do you expect me to freeze my behind off in cold storage rooms?"
"I expect you to support my daughter properly."
"Meat plant, eh? Well you have got rocks in your head, you old bastard. I didn't want to marry Barbara in the first place so let her go out and get a job instead of fucking off pretending to be a dancer."
"You...ungrateful pig!"
"Jesus, I was doing all right, enjoying life until I took up with her."
"Enjoying the bodies of women married to other men, you mean. Listen, no one talks to me this way. You will do as I say or face trouble." "Bull shit!"
"This is a country of law. The courts will force you to support Barbara. We shall see to it, her mother and I. Fortunately, we can hire the best lawyers to make you toe the line, young man."
Barbara started crying, her usual routine. Her mother went to soothe her, saying: "There, there dear, don't worry, we'll assist you."
My temper was up. "Why all this worry about Barbara? A while back you left her down there in Greenwich Village among drug-takers and pimps and hippies to get along as best as she could. Now, all of a sudden she is the young and innocent daughter who must be protected."
"She has fallen, and you alone are responsible for that fall."
"Get out," I screamed. "Get to fuck out of my house!" I snatched up a vase, spilling flowers and water all over the rug.
The father leaped to his feet, shocked. The mother being the more sensible of the two reached for the portable radio, ready to hurl it at my head. I flung the vase at her, missing her by a scant inch. She dropped the radio as if it was something flaming hot and ran to her husband.
Barbara, true to her nature, just sat there, looking at first one face then the other. Somehow her parents in stunned silence took her, the father holding her right arm, the mother holding her left arm and led her into the bedroom.
Angry, I went at the whisky bottle, pouring myself a good slug. Meat plant! Then, snarling, I threw myself into the armchair, switched on the radio which still worked despite the fall and listened to some announcer discuss the latest difficulties of Richard M. Nixon.
They were helping her pack a suitcase, I sensed it. Good. Let them cart her little ass to hell out of this apartment and out of my life. Nothing would be more satisfying. The father returned to the living room, cleared his throat and like a preacher addressing his congregation spoke in measured tones.
He warned about the hell and damnation that awaited me, about the devil calling me into his flock, that I would end my days, drunk and alone, spending my days in misery.
"My lawyers will be in touch with you."
"I am waiting for them."
"Heh, don't think you will get off so freely. Don't forget this furniture belongs to Barbara. It can be pulled out. See how you like living surrounded by four bare walls."
"Drop dead, will you."
Barbara offered a last remark. "One week, Frankie, that is what I'll give you to come to your senses. Then I expect a decision."
"Don't wait a week, baby, you can have it now: we are finished!"
They left They left me to my peace and man, I never felt so happy in my life.
I cooked up a meal, an omelet and potatoes, made a large pot of black coffee, selected a book to read, something light and settled in the softest armchair again. Ohh, man, this was paradise!
While I relaxed, reading slowly, enjoying the adventures of a James Bond-type spy, the radio reported the latest news. Again, Richard M. Nixon and Watergate and those shitty tapes. Local news followed, higher cost of living, increase in city taxes, etc. Then the gossip, which Hollywood star was getting divorced or how much money Onassis spent to make Jacqueline happy. Then the crime report. Muggings and knifings and shootings in Harlem. Murder in Brooklyn. Puerto Ricans rioting on the upper east side. Italian mafia boys confronting each other in a bar off Broadway. Some kidnappings, some rapes and robberies...good old New York City.
Suddenly, a couple of names were announced and I sat up, tossing the book away. Two hold-up men had been killed during a daylight robbery, shot by an armed guard. I listened intently, repeating the names until realization possessed me.
Jack and Alan, my next-door neighbors, had been shot to death! The room went went spinning around me and I fell back in the chair, feeling weak. They were dead! Those two guys who had helped me and taken me into their confidence were wiped out.
A stiff drink sent the blood flowing more steadily through my arteries. I got up, biting my lips and pacing the floor, thinking, thinking, thinking. Then, I broke into a sweat and fled the apartment, hurrying down the hall. My hand trembled to locate the key given me by the boys and it took an eternity to work it into the lock. Then-the door was open and I was in the bedroom scooping the stolen money into a suitcase.
The minutes that it took seemed like hours. I was drenched in perspiration and near fainting as I locked the suitcase and carried it back to my flat. It was set down in the middle of the living room and I stood there, looking at it, trembling.
How much was there? I did not dare to look. And it was mine, all mine. Not one third as previously agreed upon but the entire amount. The boys were dead and nothing had to be given to a lawyer.
I opened the window and threw the key far out into the street. Then I took another drink to calm myself combed my hair, straightened my tie and left the apartment carrying the suitcase.
The elevator was in use, rising. I fidgeted, waiting and then figured, what the hell. Just as I started to go down the stairs the elevator reached my floor. I turned as the door burst open and saw a beautiful girl leave followed by two men, both big, tough-looking.
It was the call girl Victoria and two bulls or else two gangsters. They were headed for the apartment rented by Jack and Alan. "It's right here," I heard her say.
They had no key but as one of the big men put his shoulder to the door his partner explained to the lousy prostitute, "It's okay if we break in, we got an order to search."
The door was splintered and the three of them leaped in with Victoria's voice ringing high: "A whole drawer full of money. I saw it!"
With that I was down the stairs, out the building and racing around the corner for a ,taxi. I went directly to the bus station at 42nd Street and 8th Avenue and deposited the suitcase in a locker. Then, sweating like a pig, I went down the brightly lighted street past one movie house after another until I hit a first-run theatre on Broadway where The Great Gatsby was showing. I did not care for Robert Redford and I couldn't stand Mia Farrow. But it did not matter. I sat there in the darkness, seeing the film over and over until some attendant shook me awake.
"It's two o'clock in the morning, Mac. Time for you to go."
I got up, rubbed my eyes and stumbled from the theatre. Home might be a trap. Victoria night have discussed my friendship with the police. They could be there, waiting.
So I wandered. Up Broadway to 59th Street and Columbus Circle, across, past Central Park West to 5th Avenue and then down, all the way down to Greenwich Village. At four o'clock I found a cafeteria open, an all-night place, and there I sat over several cups of black coffee thinking about a wonderful and new future.
I would open a safe deposit box in a bank and leave the money there, taking out enough to live well until that time when I could leave the country. No one must know anything and that meant breaking off contact with everyone. Barbara, Jeannette Cosmo, acquaintances, Bob Manners and his scandal journal...everyone.
There were relatives up in New Hampshire, an aunt and uncle and three teen-aged kids. They would take me on as a paying guest and after a week or two, when
I felt cool enough, I would slip off to Europe. Not Paris or Rome or the Costa Brava like most tourists but some place off the beaten path, like Greece.
When dawn came up, followed by the sun, I found myself more alive than dead. The homeless crowd, drunks, drop-outs, psychos, etc. were reeling about the streets of Greenwich village but I ignored them as I headed toward a Finnish sauna.
One hour in the steam followed by a massage and a shave, and I went off to phone my relatives long distance. They weren't too happy to hear from me but when I named the price I would be willing to pay then they changed their minds.
"See you tonight," I said, hanging up.
The bus for New Hampshire left at six in the evening. I checked my watch, and saw that I had more than eight hours in which to conduct my business. Time enough.
I started a new life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I can't say that living with my relatives in New Hampshire was a mistake because after all there was no other safe place for me to hide. But it was similar to a prison term that one has to go through, suffering day by day until the doors finally open and freedom is faced. When I looked around I couldn't believe my surroundings. The people up here were twenty years behind those down in New York. Religion and politics were the mainstays of their life, followed by an early to bed, early to rise routine with some television squeezed in.
I could buy a news journal but if I looked for anything with naked girls in it I would have to look forever. The moment any news dealer got in a stock of Playboy type stuff the local police would confiscate it And what police! Fat-headed men with bulging stomachs hanging over their gun belts cruising around in Fords just hoping to find trouble.
There were tales about the local high school and kids being hauled off to the lock-up for possessing a stick of marijuana. It was true, too. Whenever I passed there would be a squad car parked beyond the school gates and a couple of fat pigs eyeing the students.
The town boasted a discotheque that was always closely watched, a billiard parlor, one cinema, a couple of clothing stores dealing in styles of years past, the usual run of stores, some bars, drugstore, garage-and that was it! If anyone wanted to buy a new car he had to travel to Manchester or cross over into Massachusetts. Not one Cadillac was to be seen, not one snappy foreign convertible. Just the type of middle-class autos made especially for grandpa.
I stayed in my room reading because there was nothing else to do. My relatives were glued nightly to the television set watching pure shit like Bonanza, Marshal Dillon, Adventures of Doctor somebody (I never remember the name), Elephant Boy or Tarzan...ohh, God! Everyone knows that Hollywood turned out these things for people on an intelligence level of twelve.
Finally, I started looking around for girls. "Where you going, Frankie?" my uncle would ask whenever he sighted me dressed up to leave.
"I don't know, a movie or maybe a walk."
"Don't get into trouble now."
The bastard! Sure, if I got into trouble and was hauled off to the cooler the money he received weekly from me would end.
What an ass-hole he was, living on scraps a smart dog would turn away from. However, my arrival certainly upped his standard of living. Thanks to my money it was all steaks now and good cuts of beef. He even went out and bought a sports jacket It was probably a horse blanket reconverted by the local tailor but he strutted around like he was Beau Brummell.
And his kids, Jesus! The girls were sixteen and seventeen, the boy eighteen, but do you think they'd do something to earn pocket money? Forget it. Uncle Frankie was here. They'd line up almost daily holding out their hands forcing me to slip them a couple of dollars.
I don't know what they did with the money. Maybe the boy gambled his away and the girls supported men. Certainly they didn't smoke and I never smelled liquor on their breath. Nor did they wear smart clothing. It was all ragged jeans and worn-out shoes.
The boy's face could not be seen. His hair if shorn could have produced three full wigs. And did he smell! The bathroom in his estimation was for the sole purpose of sitting on the toilet Damned if he ever turned the water faucets on.
The older girl was built like a plank of wood. Flat until it came to her breasts and those were watermelons. Much as I hate to admit it those boobs fascinated me. Tremendous, shooting straight out But the rest of her body! Nothing.
The youngest sister on the other hand had no boobs. Just birdseed on her chest. Big strong arms like a truck driver's, her legs stout columns that could support a balcony and feet that were gunboats. Yet she had a fantastic ass, superbly constructed. It revolved, it gyrated, and when one cheek elevated the other descended.
What one sister missed, the other caught and vice versa. It was my belief that my uncle figured I would try to get into one or both of his daughters, screwing them silly. The first few days he watched me like a hawk but I disappointed him and he soon returned to watching the crap on television.
When my libido went on the rise I scoured the town for pussy. A few nights in the bars put me in touch with the local horrors, women who could get jobs in the movies working in the Frankenstein or Dracula pictures.
Next I tried the discotheque. But whom did I see there but my young cousins, enjoying themselves at my expense. However, since I was a new face on the scene and looked much younger than my years, several girls began to notice me.
I settled for a fairly shapely blonde. A real farm girl's face with red cheeks, big blue eyes and a mouth that hung open. Her rear-end and thighs looked good in jeans but I couldn't check her chest condition due to an overlarge jeans jacket. However, as we danced close I soon discovered she had something. Not the tremendous boulders of my cousin but a good handful nevertheless.
"My name is Jean," she said sweetly. "Good to know you."
"And you're the cousin of Harold and Mavis and Doreen and you're from New York."
"Anything else you know?" I looked over into a corner where my cousins were surrounded by a gang of young kids.
"You're about to get a divorce or something like that."
"What else?" I was now ready to let go of her the moment the dance ended. No one can score in a town like this. Sneak a piss out in the bushes at night and by morning everyone is discussing it.
"You're very rich."
"It's not that I'm rich, girlie. What it is if you want to know is that my cousins are not only lazy but sponges as well. They hit me up for pocket money daily and I'm too soft a character to refuse them."
She sensed the sudden anger in my voice for her blue eyes widened. I had had enough. The hand I held was damp with perspiration and my other palm clutching her waist felt the wetness through her jeans blouse.
However, as my interest faded blonde Jean displayed her goods. Her pelvis bumped mine as she moved in close to work a thigh between my legs. Now being without sex for a while made me extremely vulnerable. Whoops! There went my erection, shooting right up.
"Oh!"
"What's the matter?"
"Either you've got something in your pocket or else...."
"Or else I've got something for you. Right?"
Jean glanced about rather nervously to see how the rest of the crowd was taking our dry humping. We were dancing so close that it appeared I was trying to work my way through her and come out on the other side.
"Listen..." She tried to back off a bit. "I wouldn't want you to mess up your pants or something."
"That hasn't happened to me since I was a teenager."
"It happens to boys here all the time." I whispered into her ear. "I take it then you're not a virgin."
Her head jerked up, defiance in her eyes. "What! In this town!"
Oh, oh, so the local kids were swingers. "That's the way it is, eh? What about my cousins, Mavis and Doreen?"
"Those two? Miss Tits and Miss Ass? The biggest whores around. They spread for anybody. I bet you've had them both dozens of times."
"I've just been here a little over a week, girlie. Besides, I'm related to them."
"So what? A relative took my virginity. When I was sixteen."
"All right." I was becoming more hot by the second. "Where can we go to try each other on for size?" "But we can't leave together." "We'll meet outside then." "You haven't got a car yet, have you?" "No."
She was thinking and just then the dance ended leaving me standing there with a super hard-on. We walked off the floor, her hip bumping mine, and for a fleeting moment the fear that I would ejaculate set in. My erection was hurting.
We stood at the bar and ordered cokes. Nothing stronger was served. My cousins had broken up, each of them settling somewhere about the discotheque with a partner but all the same their eyes never left me.
Jean couldn't figure out a--likely spot for our sexual tryst. In fact she was leaving it up to me. "What about a hotel?" I suggested.
She shook her head. "No way. We wouldn't be allowed to register and then the local cops would be there."
"But if all you young people are screwing as you claim where in hell is it being done?"
"In cars mostly. Or they drive to other towns where the laws aren't strict and they're not known."
"Hell, so we'll get ourselves into a taxi."
"Are you kidding?" She looked at me as if I had said the wrong thing.
"There are three taxi drivers in this town and my father is one of them."
Damn it to hell and back. I was hard up! What was I to do, return to the house and whack myself off in my room?
"There must be some possibility." I was beginning to notice how pretty she was, tilted nose, thick, clean-looking long blonde hair, rounded chin, smooth skin and sculptured neck. No, I couldn't let the chance to mount this one pass by.
"What room are you staying in at your uncle's house?"
"Main floor. In the rear. Hey, wait, you don't plan on playing with me there, do you?"
Jean shrugged. "I know the layout of that house. What the hell, I've put out for your cousin Harold there while the folks were asleep."
"What? You went with Harold?"
"Well, I didn't go with him. I slept with him a few times."
I looked across the dance-floor where Harold was sitting with a skinny girl, chatting it up. "That creature! All that hair! And he never washes."
"Telling me. He smells!"
"How on earth could you?"
"Maybe I was drunk those times. Anyway, what does it matter? You still want me, don't you?"
An innocent-looking girl and yet probably the biggest whore in this little town. Ahh well, who the hell was I to question her morals?
"Right. We'll sneak in there."
"You leave first and I will follow."
The music had started again and couples began to move out onto the dance floor. Cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air and with everyone perspiring freely the combination of odors was powerful, like a gymnasium that hadn't been aired out in weeks.
I paid for the colas, winked at Jean and started to leave. She clutched my arm and hissed. "My brother just came in."
There were a group of boys, five strong, all in leather jackets and leather boots lumbering in like rockers ready to start a fight. All wore scraggly beards and long hair that was dyed black.
"Which one is he?"
"The biggest."
"You mean that gorilla?"
"That's him. He knows I'm a big whore and if he sees me go out he'll look about to see which man is the cause for my leaving."
All this just to get laid. There was nothing else to do except go into another dance. Back out on the floor we went. Once more, Jean's body began to provoke me, creating all sorts of sensations. She pecked at my face with swift, little kisses and nipped my ear lobe. Her thigh riding between mine rubbed my penis, causing her to utter exclamations of surprise.
"God, how hard you are!"
I envisioned her nude, round-breasted, firm-legged, spread across a bed waiting to be sexually dominated. It became wild. I listened to the music, seeking distraction, but Jean was not to be stopped. She hummed along with the spinning disc, glanced rather furtively at her brother, then locked her burning thighs around my leg.
The sparks developing in the depths of my innards really glowed now. Each undulation of her hips, each twist of her vise-like thighs caused the fires to surge a bit higher.
I was caught in the trap. My hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks. They were quite full and round. She forgot about her brother now and squeezed in closer when my palms flattened on the thrusting rounds; there was a quivering of muscles, which indicated her excitement.
One dance led to another without pause. The movement of Jean's flesh in the tight jeans kindled my imagination even more. My fingertips tingled. Grasping each revolving cheek I bore in until the girl gasped.
"Ooooh!" Her hand slid between our tightly joined bodies and found my hard penis.
It was now my turn to gasp. She released me quickly, whispering that she could hardly wait to have me in her. She squeezed my shoulder hard and brought her lips to mine. It was a rapid kiss but delicate, filled with heat. Her lips opened, her tongue-tip dueled with mine and then she bit me and the kiss was over.
The air was trapped in my throat and my heart refused to slow to a less frightening beat. I slipped a hand under her jeans jacket and discovered that the soft of her belly was soaking wet.
There was a buzzing in my ears. The odor of her perfume and skin was persuasive and pungent. Her fingers crawled over me like bugs, and the press and glide of her thighs had my temperature climbing high.
The hell with her brother, screw my cousins! I had to have this girl.
"Well go out the back way, like we're going to the toilet."
Jean backed off, pivoted to shoulder her way through the dancers. I followed slowly, mopping my forehead with a handkerchief. No one, I hoped, noticed us. As she mounted the stairs to the toilets I watched the effortless glide, the resilient stretch of her jeans-clad thighs, the buoyant sway of her ass and the natural grace of her shoulder movement.
I was grateful for the sight because it promised a delightful night. There was just the right jut to her sleek ass, and the taut jeans rippled as the long, hard muscles of her thighs worked.
She went through one door, I another. There was a window to climb through and then I was outside, standing at the rear of the discotheque. The cool air was refreshing after the acrid odors of that place. Noise was everywhere; kids carrying transistor radios, music from passing cars aad the sound blaring from the club. "Here I am."
Instead of taking my hand Jean slid her arm about my waist and thigh against thigh walked in step with me.
The street was now blanketed in darkness. Just a few cars passing us now and then pasted brightness on the shuttered stores. Soon we were out of the main street heading toward the housing area.
I kept thinking about this blonde farm girl, thinking there was something erotic about her. The wanton sway of her buttocks, the burning touch of her breast against my arm. Near the dwelling of my relatives I pushed her against a tree. As I caressed her eagerly she submitted without resistance, her head thrown back, her eyes tightly closed.
My rough, searching hands found her breasts, covered them and closed down hard. She cried out but planted a moist, burning kiss on my lips. My grip relaxed and I willingly accepted the lash of her tongue as it scored the walls of my mouth like a wet whip.
Fortunately I had left the window of my room open. I climbed over the sill, tip-toed to the door to lock it and hissed for Jean to come on.
She could not been seen so easily in the darkness but she brought her smell with her and when I groped for her she patiently allowed me my explorations. My hand crept up her thighs, finding them curved if hard. Hell, I thought, she might break my back. A sudden yearning to screw her standing swept over me.
Swiftly I unbuttoned the jeans jacket and her breasts, normal-sized but full, came into view, all hot and throbbing. I played with them, shaping the nipples to fine points. She rubbed her body against mine and taking my face between her hands kissed me heatedly.
We parted to undress. The same odors I had inhaled in the discotheque-perfume and dampened skin-now floated about the room. Turning toward her I saw that her blue eyes, discernible even in the dim bedroom, were half-closed and smoldering, regarding me with mild amusement.
Her body was all supple movement as she peeled the jeans down her legs. She bent forward, long legs spread for balance, and rid her upper torso of the jeans jacket.
"Ahhh! That was too hot!"
I was already stripped but my eyes were darted from her breasts to her buttocks, from her hips to her waist, astonished by the treasures her clothing had hidden so well.
The blonde farm girl had seemed too tall, too slim, but she was dynamically curved. My eyes slid downward, caressing the flat belly, glided lower to the substantial thighs, so white and round and abounding in firm flesh, and looked down the length of her perfectly shaped legs. Her ass jutted beautifully, each globe smooth, sufficiently plump, white-skinned. Her breasts, good-sized, were quite wide at the base, with dark aureoles.
Man, I was beside myself with anticipation. As she stood there, awaiting my move, the slight scraping sound of her thighs rubbing slowly one on the other had my nerve ends all raw.
The bedsprings squeaked slightly and then I was leaning over her, seeing Jean draped all over my bed. I saw her(breasts rise in rebellion as she arched her back and I saw the enticing curves and shadows of her outstretched torso, her sleek, inviting legs.
The tips of her breasts tasted like flame as I nipped first one then the other. She sighed and glided up, long thighs separating, sliding to capture my penis and hold my body like a vise. She reared up and paused, holding the position, her mouth taut, nostrils flared. Then I surged forward, penetrating her easily, shooting the tip of my dong into her cave. She sank back, taking me down with her.
"You...Oh! You.. . "
"I'm hurting you."
"No, no." With a deep sigh, altogether different from the others, she heaved up, moving in unison with my first tentative motions.
We were quite gentle with one another, moving in slow, regular cadence. I held fast to the small globes of her breasts as the repeated rise and fall caused our flesh to clash, glide and clash again.
Jean assured me that she was all woman, that I was too gentle, that she could take all I was capable of giving and more. "Much more!"
This was one young girl who was no liar!
She strained upward, shifting until her breasts flattened against my chest and her thighs, sliding along my torso, rose clear up to my armpits. It provoked me to a more vigorous bartering and lifted her to a pitch of joy. Flame radiated to every part of her squirming body and overpowered, she dissolved and broke into a deep-drawn sigh.
"I came, I came."
"Good."
"Ohhh, it was good, soo good!"
I moved my hands from her breasts to the larger globes of her buttocks and grasping harshly I squeezed. But I spurred her on, and she harmonized beautifully with me, employing a speedy rhythm. She churned her hips rapidly to bring me shuddering to a close.
She strangled a sob as my cream scalded her and convulsed, laboring with an even more fierce strength to wring every drop of come out of my thudding instrument.
Jean thrashed upward in a final agony of motion and fell back sobbing. The room spun, and I sprawled on top of her, utterly exhausted. She burrowed from under me and curled up by my side, pulling me close until spoon-like we rested.
Sometime later we parted. Her warm breath was on my face, the strands of blonde hair tickling me as she rolled over atop me. She made adjustments, shifting, her stiffened nipples trailing through the tangled hair on my chest. I palmed her buttocks, jerked up in a lust-tortured spasm and speared her, entering her cleft.
We began again. Soon the firestorm was rocking us, compelling us to hold fast to each other. The flames of our desire glowed even more. Jean's hips pumped.to the throbbing beat of her heart. I heard it and my heart drove blood furiously through my system in a constant pulsing stream.
"Oh, oh, oh! Oh...oh...ooor
Her outcries left her winded and she bit into my shoulder as she was pitched in a tumbling rush toward fulfillment. She came once, twice, three times.
I dug in and out of the slippery cream, my rod terribly hard, prolonging the moment of ejaculation. And that blonde girl called upon her experience to drown me in the swirling waters of sensuality. She demanded a thorough and exhausting finish to this action.
Boy, she left me like a corpse.
She sneaked through the window out into the night leaving me fast asleep in the bed. For that I was grateful and slept until noon the next day.
CHAPTER NINE
My cousins did not ask any questions and I supplied them With no information. What the hell, as long as I paid them off daily what more did they want?
The next evening I was again at the discotheque, listening to the sound of rock, drinking colas and waiting for Jean to show up. She did not disappoint me. This time she strolled in wearing a dress, with, I could clearly see, nothing under it. The blonde was equipped for action.
There were the preliminaries to go through, some dancing, a little conversation, and then she headed for the toilets with me following after a suitable pause. This time there was no kissing under the trees. We walked swiftly to the house, climbed in and got right down to our private business.
She was on fire this time, the lips of her pussy burning wet. As usual I wanted to enjoy her fleshy charms, fondle the hard breasts and investigate the strength of her thighs. There was time, I felt, so why not linger and play with each other.
But Jean was boiling and the vaginal lips had enlarged and parted, widening her opening. With the blonde in such a frenzy intercourse immediately was the only answer.
Her thighs went up high and I penetrated, feeling my weapon spear through the creamy softness. My strokes were quite strong but definitely slow but she was frenzied, and flung that ass up and up. She sighed, she gasped, she let out some croons and then my penis was bathed in hot water.
She lay back, smiling contentedly with her eyes glazed. I was still in her, buried deep, supporting myself with flattened palms on the bed.
"You went off like a gun."
"I suppose I was thinking about it too much...all day."
My hands encircled her trim waist, my palms went down to grasp the bowl-shaped ass and bring her up. This movement enabled a deeper thrusting and Jean emitted a cry but then she was pumping again under me.
The excitement first felt had evened out and my strokes were steady and measured, making her squirm with pleasure. We did not talk for our breath had to be saved. I only heard the tearing sound as her ass ground over the sheets and then she purred like a cat and breathed into my ear:
"I am going off again!"
Fortunately for me, with my relatives just in the other room, Jean did not cry out when she climaxed. True, her ass did become violent, ramming up three to four times as I slammed down only once, but the sound created was like two dry palms rubbing together. But as before a hot flood poured out of her sheath, drowning my tool.
I allowed her the orgasm but continued to jolt her steadily, keeping on and on with my thrusting until she recuperated and started bringing her twisting body up quicker and quicker.
She popped off again, her body rocking in a storm but still joined to me. Then I felt my penis swell up, become so large at the tip that it was difficult to rise and fall without rubbing fiercely against the tissues of her quim. My breathing quickened and Jean, knowing I was due squeezed my hips with her hard thighs and bound me to her, using the strength of her arms and legs.
I climaxed with a whine while her vagina closing after her orgasm pinched my penis, squeezing the juice from it like strong fingers pinching a large tube of soft toothpaste.
When we broke apart the creamy stuff bubbled out of her slit, messing up her body. She wiped herself as best as she could but the goo was on the bed, dripping on to the rug, landing on her shoes and stockings.
"Man! How much was stored up in you!"
"I can't go anymore, I am dead."
There was a silent rest. We lay side by side, holding hands while the moments passed. She began to talk in low tones, asking why I wished to know nothing about her. Was sex all I wanted?
"You just need my body, is that it?"
"Well, you haven't questioned me either. There is a lot more to me than what you've picked up as local gossip."
"If you remain in this town a while longer everyone will talk. After all, you don't work."
"Maybe I am a philosopher, thinking all the time. You ever consider that?"
"Please don't treat me like an idiot. Sure, this is a small town but because I live here doesn't mean I'm backward. Some of the teachers at our school were educated at good universities and are not only well-read but well-traveled. We gained a lot of knowledge from them. And I graduated in the top ten of the class."
Easy to do, I figured, if there are only eleven or so kids in the class. But I was puzzled by another aspect
"You graduated?"
"Sure. Think I'm a moron. Oh, my God, just because you're from New York City!"
"But I figured you to be around seventeen years old."
"I was seventeen, a long time back. Christ I look young but I'm not."
She was well over age, good. No one could charge me with impairing the morals of a minor.
"Well, what are you doing now? I mean there's no university around for you to attend."
"I work."
Did she tell me before? I don't know, I was vague about so many matters. Perhaps Jean was right; it was her body that interested me.
"I don't know how long I can stick living in this one-horse village."
"Why?" Even in the darkness I could see her eyes light up with sudden fear. Oh, oh, she was looking to put the hooks into me.
"Sweetheart, there's nothing for me to do. If I hadn't met you I'd go bugs. Hell, watching television's not for me and I'm tired of reading. Holding an intelligent conversation with my relatives is impossible. What should I do, go out and buy those plastic car or airplane kits and build them to keep occupied?"
Jean was thinking. "We should take our affair out into the open."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, let it get around that we're going together. Meet my family and all that. Then we wouldn't have to meet on the sneak like this. I could show you things to do here and we could visit other places."
"Sure, that tough brother of yours with his leather jacket and motorcycle would love that."
"It would be none of his business. If we meet like this then everyone will suspect it's for one purpose. But if we are open about our behavior then people, including my brother, will see it's not just sex."
"Of course, and then they'd be looking at your finger for the engagement ring. Baby, I am still married. Worse, I am older than you are."
"Hah, ten years or so."
"More."
"So what. Do you think I want some young twenty year old? I feel like a real woman when we are making love. Half the time with the others I fail to reach a climax."
"Jean, baby, please don't get any ideas. I am not going to spend the rest of my life here." "Neither am I."
I let it go at that but I knew the time to fold my tent and slip away like a desert Arab had come. The conversation turned to other things and then fatigue set in, causing us both to talk in monosyllables. Jean should have risen and dressed and left but somehow I did not persuade her to.
The next thing was a key turning in the lock and my uncle and aunt stepping into the room. Behind them, dressed in pajamas were my cousins, Doreen, Mavis and a laughing Harold.
"Scoundrel!" This from my uncle.
I was too numbed to reply although it did register on my sleep-drugged brain that the old bastard's eyes never once left Jean's naked body.
She screamed and snatched at the bedclothes. There was a loud plop! That was my aunt, fainting and hitting the floor. Her children stepped over her to enter the room and join the fun.
"Get the hell out of here, all of you."
"Fornicating with a girl half your age and in my house."
That was a blow to my vanity because Jean was not half my age, but I didn't press the point. Instead I bellowed at the son of a bitch to get out and take his tribe with him. His girls, Miss Tits and Miss Ass were a little amazed by Jean's normal construction. Nature had supplied her with the two things that were my cousins' only claim to fame. Harold, on the other hand, being well acquainted with Jean's body, continued to guffaw.
"Sheeet! I knew you two were making this scene. Everyone at that shitty old discotheque was on to you. Sneaking out like you're going to the toilets. Sheeet!"
"All right." My uncle, looking ridiculous in a much-patched bathrobe, nodded. "You are a grown man and well aware of the consequences, Frankie. I did not know of this situation even though my children did. However, you should know that this girl's brother is outside, waiting. He woke us up this morning when he came to get his sister."
"Oh, no!"
"Oh, yes! Her parents were naturally worried when they found her room empty this morning. They were ready to notify the police but apparently her brother knew exactly where she would be."
He left the room, slipped his hands under his wife's armpits and hauled the wobbly woman to her feet. The kids looked at me with serious eyes. All laughter had died for I was up to my neck in real trouble.
Jean was white, not a sound came out of her. She just lay under the sheets like a corpse. Everyone had seen me naked so I didn't bother to cover myself but I did consider this was getting to be a habit. First being trapped in my Greenwich Village dive by Barbara and her parents and now, miles away the same thing happens.
"Well...I guess I am one man who lives without planning. Okay, you all leave now while Jean and I try to figure this thing out."
Harold snickered. "Her brother is bad, man, but I mean baaad! Your ass is in real trouble. Sheeet, you didn't have to mess with Jean, man. Whyn't you come to me? Hell, I could have fixed you up with girls on their own, man."
"It's too late now."
"Sure is, man. You have had it."
I said to Jean: "Is there any way out of this?"
Her teeth were chattering. "No-o-o!"
Harold shook his head. "He's out there in the front with four other bad cats, man. Real Hell's Angels type rockers. Leather outfits and strong motorcycles. And he's a sadist, man, he'll love torturing you."
"He'll kill me," Jean whispered.
"Nah, he won't kill you but your ass will hurt for a month when he finishes kicking it in. You won't be able to plant it on a toilet seat, baby."
"You've had something to do with her." I began to get into my clothes. "How come he didn't get after you?"
"Oh, man, I am discreet. When we finished our business, man, I saw to it that Jean got home. Didn't catch her sleepin' all night with me. Hell man, that's for married folks, and you two definitely are not married!"
"Look, get your father's car," I said to Harold.
He backed off with his hands upraised. "Oh, no man!"
"I'll give you fifty dollars to bring it around in front of the window."
"No, man, not even for seventy-five." "I'll do it," screeched the youngest girl.
He sneered at her. "Hell, you just turned sixteen and have no driving license."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Does it mean I can't drive?"
"I'll give a hundred." My hands went at my pockets and came up with dollar bills. They were spread across the bed I just left. "There, a full one hundred dollars for two seconds worth of driving."
"Forgetting one thing, girls," said Harold. "Papa's car ain't but a little old Volkswagen. Them boys out there are hopping aboard Harley-Davidson cycles. It'll be no contest."
"Go and get the car and let me worry about outracing those thugs." I flung things into my suitcase.
Jean left the bed with the sheet wrapped around her, said oh, what the hell, tossed it to the floor and reached for her dress.
The girls were surprised that she did not wear panties or a brassiere and said so. Harold took it as a joke stating that "old Jean was ready for action all the time."
A voice rang out loud and clear in the early morning: "Frankie Hill...your time is up, man, better come on out here."
"My brother!" Color drained from Jean's face again.
I eased the window open. The girls had left and Harold had gone outside to stand vigil with his parents. My aunt was crying and my uncle could be heard soothing her. The comforting sound was the snarl like pots and pans rattling caused by the Volkswagen motor. Then there it was before the window with Mavis and Doreen, still in pajamas, getting out.
like an acrobat I went through the window, flinging my suitcase into the rear. The key was in the ignition, the motor revving. Automatically I released the handbrake, pushed the shift stick into first gear and started off when Jean screamed: "Wait!"
There was the stupid young bitch, blonde hair flying, the dress crawling up over her naked thighs to show her pubic bush and belly, climbing over the window sill and hopping into the passenger's seat.
We took off, making about a quarter of a mile before those leather-jacketed ass-holes discovered our escape. Then I looked up into the mirror and saw five dark specks. The specks grew larger, becoming black dots and I knew it would take fifteen seconds at the most before we were surrounded by motorcycles.
I did eighty miles per, the most anyone can get out of a Volkswagen but those choppers could do twice that with ease and on the road leading into the town dear old brother and his rockers caught us.
Jean's screams deafened me more than the thundering motorcycles. I pulled up thinking here comes the beating of my life. Ah well, as long as some teeth are left in my head. A broken nose can be repaired and split lips will eventually heal. As for black eyes, what the hell, I've had them before. Only my teeth worried me.
We heard sirens and two police cars converged on us, their red roof lights flashing. The rockers took off, all except Jean's brother. He already had the door of the Volkswagen open and was tossing punches at me. I grabbed his wrist and really held on to it.
The police pulled him away and set up a yelling about exceeding speed limits and committing violence.
Jean and I sat still, keeping silent. Her brother tried to explain something about his sister's honor. The result was that we all had to go to the station.
There I was charged with speeding and fined twenty-five dollars which I paid on the spot. The magistrate, apparently well-acquainted with Jean, was not surprised by her sexual activities. Since she was over age I could not be charged. However, he did ask if I wished to press any charges against her brother.
The brother, whose name was Lucas, a big ugly gorilla of a boy, was furious. His revenge had backfired and now he was in the soup. Yes, I told the magistrate, this man attempted grievous bodily harm and I did wish to make a charge against him.
"Right." The magistrate, a sour-looking man who could not have been over forty said: "It means you'll have to remain here in this town until his case comes up."
"Oh!" This was something I didn't want. It would mean booking into a hotel since I had no intention, of going back to my uncle's house. I looked at the gorilla, at the waiting policemen, at Jean and finally at the magistrate.
"Well?"
"Well, ahh, you see, I...ah, can understand this fellow. After all, you know, it is his sister. But...if he is willing to forget it then so am I."
The gorilla snarled. "Think you're gettin' off light and easy, huh? Just forget it like that, huh? I'll get you, you son of a bitch and beat the dirty shit out of you."
"Stop that!" The magistrate shouted at Lucas. "Threatening a man here, before your peers, and before witnesses. Another charge added. And the use of obscenity! Another charge!" "I am pressing charges."
"All right." The magistrate signed an order and told the policemen to take Lucas to the cells. "Let him know his legal rights and send for a lawyer so we can fix bail. Trial will be one week from today."
I had to sit still while some old woman typed out forms for me to sign. Jean, considered a material witness, had to do her share of signing, which did not make her too happy.
As we were leaving the station a taxicab stood outside, parked between the two police cars. A fat man, resembling Lucas stepped forward. His eyes bore into mine and his fists clenched.
"My father!" Jean gasped.
"Get home, you prostitute," he sneered. He stepped up to me. "Lousy city bastard. I got a lot of friends here and we'll get you, one way or another."
He pushed Jean into the back of the cab and drove off. I just stood there on the sidewalk, alone, feeling more than a little stupid. One thing, I knew, however, I was not staying in this town one minute longer.
As I went down the street past the local beer hall men stared at me. Nearby was the bus station, a bus waiting to go to Boston. If I attempted to purchase a ticket a policeman would be there, reminding me that I had to stick around for Lucas' trial. I paused, thinking.
I picked up my bag and went off, whistling. Within a short distance I found myself before a garage. A young man stood before a big car wiping oil from his hands with a rag. He turned upon hearing my footsteps and took me in.
"How did it go?" He had cropped hair like an old-time Prussian officer and a lean, hungry-looking face.
"You know already, do you?"
"Everyone does. Hell, think this is New York City where you come from? Hey, how'd you find Jean in the sack? Good piece of ass, eh?"
My bad luck was running true to form. Jean was the local prostitute, mounted by everyone who could walk and I had to be the man who had to pay for all the sins. Typical.
"That your car?"
"Belongs to a customer." He pointed at an old Ford Thunderbird that was repainted silver. "That's my car."
I showed him a fifty dollar bill. "Are you going to get me out of this town or not?"
"Mister, for fifty I'll take you to hell and back."
"Then let's waste no more time standing here and talking."
That was how I said good-bye to a goddamned one-horse town, my aunt and uncle, Miss Tits and Miss Ass as well as long-haired Harold and dear, lovely, whoring Jean and her dangerous motorcycle-racing brother.
At the next town I caught a train to Boston, went to the airport, flew into New York City, checked into a hotel and went to get my passport renewed. I remained in the midtown area, seeing movies, eating in restaurants and just walking. At no time did I go near the apartment to discover what was happening with Barbara. It was my guess that the call girl, Victoria, had put the police on the scent and they wished to ask me some embarrassing questions. Just being in possession of all that money was a crime and I would pay dearly.
The day my passport came through I purchased an Air France ticket for Paris. The plane left in the afternoon and three hours before the departure I went to the bank, hauled the money out of my safety deposit box and spoke to an assistant manager. The amount of money did not surprise him. After all, he did work in a bank. But his suspicions were aroused when I stated I wished the entire sum transferred to a bank in Geneva, Switzerland.
It took less than twenty minutes for the arrangements to be made after which I signed some typed forms. My opinion was that he would be notifying the tax department of the transfer. Those lovely civil servants would in turn check my income tax returns and come to wonder how I would be in possession of so much money. An investigation would start but by the time it got under way I would be long gone.
I took a taxi out to Kennedy Airport, signed in, waited, feeling not at all nervous, and boarded the jet In minutes New York City was below me, then the Atlantic Ocean. Six hours later the jet put down at Orly airport. My bag was collected and I got on a bus along with a lot of tourists.
The bus dropped me at the air terminal in the Inval-ides section and I walked along the Seine feeling great. At the Place Michel I looked at the mob swirling around the fountain, the same type of mob found on the streets of Greenwich Village. But this was Paris!
I was free!
CHAPTER TEN
I booked into a hotel on the Rue St. Jacques, a clean place that provided me with a large room and full-sized bathroom. Breakfast, cafe au lait and croissants, would be served early and after a bath I hit the streets for some sight-seeing. It wasn't the first time for me in Paris, the sights were old but there was still the warm feeling of visiting an old friend. Each night I ate in a different restaurant and occasionally I sampled" the wares of the whores. Not the tramps who hung about the old Les Halles area but the dreams who strolled along the Madeleine and wanted one hundred fifty francs for one hour's worth of entertainment.
It was so wonderful to leave the brightly lit Champs Elysees and walk slowly down to the Place de la Concorde, along the Rue de Rivoli to the Pont Neuf and cross over the Seine onto St. German des Pres. The small, twisting streets would be silent, deserted until I passed through to the Quartier Latin and there within the area of the Boul' Mich would be noisy activity. Cafes were open, filled, cars raced along the avenues, cinema lights blazed, restaurants as well as some stores were still open and I was alive, man, alive!
All this time I was paying regular visits to the Parisian branch of my Swiss bank, hauling money out steadily for living expenses. There were some new suits, sport jackets, shirts and shoes. Elegant appearances must be kept up.
One evening I took a seat next to a brunette in a cinema in Montparnasse to see a Lino Ventura gangster film. It was an engrossing picture but I was aware of the girl's leg against mine, then the pressure of her thigh.
It was too dark to distinguish her looks but as she stared straight ahead I saw her profile was regular, small straight nose, full lips and round chin. Her hair, rather thick, was cut short.
Slowly, I folded my arms on my chest and sent the fingers of one hand over to touch her arm. She did not move. A good sign. The pressure on my leg and thigh was increased. Becoming bolder, my fingers roved past her arm to her breast. My fingers jabbed into hardness and she released a sigh but did not remove her gaze from the events on the screen. When I groped for the nipple, however, she bolted upright and hissed:
"Vous etes dinguel lei, dans le cinema?"
All right, I could wait
But apparently the girl could not wait.
There was Lino Ventura, accompanied by a German police dog, fleeing into the hills and pursued by a mob of communist agents. A decidedly interesting story, an exciting film that held the attention of the cinema audience. But this girl who asked me if I was crazy was even more crazy, for her fingers had deftly unzipped my pants. Air flowed over my erected penis and then cool, slim fingers had it out.
"Formidable," the girl whispered, praising the thing that stood upright like one of Paris' monuments.
While I squirmed in my seat, trying to watch the screen, she whacked me off. It was masturbation brought to its highest level. The girl was knowledgeable, her fingers and palms so practiced that she made an art out of what should be an ordinary jerk-off.
Again and again I would moan softly, feeling the point of emission near. Her nails-and they were extremely long and sharp-would then flick against my balls and just rest there, the knuckles of her fingers atop the two eggs.
My shoulders would slump, I would release a breath and relax in my seat. Then she would start again. Up, down, up, down until I hunched over with my face all twisted up.
When I started hissing like a cornered cat her other hand fumbled in the pocketbook and produced a tissue. Swiftly it was draped over my bar and boom, I shot!
A professional hand-job, neatly done, the tissue adding a clinical touch to the act. As for the film, well I didn't know what it was all about.
When the lights went up and people filed up the aisles I allowed her to proceed first. Her ass was pear-shaped, flowing from a slender waist down into round cheeks, employing a lot of movement. Her legs were slim but hard-calved, like a dancer's. Not bad at all!
She walked out with her eyes front not uttering a single word until we were out on the streets before the blazing colored lights of the cinema. She was shorter than I, not as large in the chest as I hoped and good-looking rather than pretty. At no time would she stop traffic on the boulevards or cause men loafing in the cafes to leap up in their seats. Worse, she looked typically French bourgeois, the type brought up strictly, church-going and aware of the value of a franc.
"Well," I tried to be suave. "Shall we stop somewhere for an aperitif?"
She looked at me coldly, like I'd be the sort of a pimp who rode the Metro just to rub against girls going off to work.
"Msieu?"
Hey now, what was this? The broad just whacks the hell out of my dong and then comes on like an ice-cold mannequin. I went back a few paces, studying her. She was frozen, her nose in the air, looking at me in that pseudo-haughty way.
But-she did not move on. The crowd had gone their way leaving us as the only two people before the cinema. A game player, it was obvious. Her act angered me and this time I snarled:
"Look, we can go for a drink first but if you want to get better acquainted with that part of my anatomy you practiced on, my hotel is not far away."
The direct approach always catches them by surprise. But she coolly examined her watch. "I have less than one hour, then I must be home."
A drink taken rapidly would eat up ten, fifteen minutes, leaving us five minutes to make the hotel and only forty minutes to spend in bed. Not enough time. I took her arm, stating, "We'll skip a cafe and head directly for my place. I still have a half-bottle of rose left."
As we walked down the Boulevard Montparnasse in the direction of the Rue de Rennes she kept aloof, her haughty little nose and small breasts up high, her back erect like a soldier's, her legs taking long strides. And silent, too. Not a word out of her.
Near the beginnings of the student district I learned her name was Claudette. Well, that was a point to start from so I said:
"During the nineteen-thirties and forties there was a well-known American movie actress named Claudette. Claudette Colbert."
"Never heard of her."
"Well I guess you were born just about the time she was retiring."
She stopped dead, right there on the corner of the Rue St. Sulpice with cars whizzing all around us. "An American actress, you say, and with that French name? Impossible!" She shook her head and started walking again.-
Jesus H. Christ! What kind of a female ass-hole did I pick to mount? "Baby," I explained, "her parents were French."
Instead of picking it up from there she asked: "How much further to your hotel?"
"Straight down here, to the Boulevard St. Michel, across to the Rue des Ecoles and voila!"
"Too far!" Again, she halted.
Another pause from her and I would give up the fucking game. "Listen, then, your higliness, I'll go and whistle down a taxi." Oh, man, oh man, what a broad!
"Do not use that tone!"
I put my fists on my hips and stared at her. "I live in a hotel. Now if you want to (I wished to say fuck)...ahh, fornicate then that is where it must be done. Unless your apartment is close by."
"I reside with my parents." She turned away, her eyes scanning the darkness. "There!"
The red and blue neon sign belonging to the Hotel des Arts, a decrepit dump, winked on and off. We crossed over approaching the entrance. Usually there is a white shield with the number of stars indicative of the price and type of accommodations. Three stars in this area was seldom seen. Two stars were quite common, and one star usually meant you had to battle a mattress filled with fleas. This hole in the wall had no stars!
"Ohh, baby, my place.. . "
"I have no time," she snapped.
We entered, smelling disinfectant immediately, a sure sign that insects were on the prowl. The clerk was the usual type of pensioner, in his seventies and working to supplement the meager stipend from the government Bald, toothpick thin in a threadbare black jacket, he was more concerned with the nonsense on a portable television.
"Vingt francs!" He clapped a key on the desk.
Claudette was cool, not at all disturbed. I imagined that a show of my passport would be necessary as well as a signing in. But he put my mind at rest by mumbling, "Deux heures, compris?"
As we went up the steps I asked: "Does he mean have to leave by two in the morning?"
"No. We have two hours to take care of our affairs." She brought up her watch. "I can offer you thirty-five minutes, no more."
Bitch!
What a room my twenty francs bought us. There are hotel rooms and hotel rooms in Paris and some are fit for the Queen of England, some suitable for the clo-chards who sleep along the banks of the Seine. But this one took the cake. It was barely large enough to contain a rickety bed, a wash-basin sizable enough for a sparrow to bathe in and a cracked bidet that had, so help me God, a spider's web in one corner.
"Shit on a stick!" was my comment.
Qaudette calmly said: "I know that worse rooms exist. Eh bien, shall we get on with it?"
I looked about, filled with misery. The window shade was ripped, the floor grainy with dirt and the bulb in the ceiling so weak that Claudette, undressing, was covered by shadows.
"Are you preparing to write a book on hotel rooms? A guide for tourists?"
She had cause for annoyance for there she was in brassiere and panties while I had barely fumbled my jacket off. Well, in the pursuit of passion a man must travel along all sorts of roads. I got out of my shoes, tugged off my necktie and unbuttoned my shirt.
Claudette was purring like a cat, her knife-sharp fingernails digging into my chest when the shirt parted. When her hand dropped below to grasp what she had become familiar with in the cinema my stomach rippled and the muscles of my buttocks tightened.
Rock-hard. I stared down at the outstretched pole, thinking that this French girl knew her business. She .allowed me to unhook her brassiere and peel off the panties that carried the scent of cologne.
There was no place to put our clothes, just a hook on the door. It took some planning to put everything, my new expensive garments as well as hers, all on one hook. Her clean underwear had to be draped just so right to prevent its falling on the dirty floor.
"Twenty-three minutes exactly left."
She had removed everything except that damned watch. What in hell was she, a time-keeper at a football game? Then she stepped directly under the ceiling light and whatever annoyance I felt disappeared.
Claudette was young, in her early twenties, but seemed sensuous and highly sexed despite the haughty and rather virtuous expression on her face. But it was there, the shape of her mouth, the look in her eyes indicating sensuality.
Her breasts were better than I thought, good-sized, shapely and ball-like, thrusting right out, the aureoles pink and the nipples stubby, fat.
There was a dense growth of brown hair between the long, shapely thighs that ran under to the division of her luscious ass. And that ass, two lovely white globes caused my mouth to water and engendered real hot lust.
Unabashedly, Claudette allowed me to study her further, to pinch and touch the long columns of her
I thighs, to judge the firmness of her breasts, the taut skin of her waist and the hard calves of her slim legs.
Upon my instruction she turned this way and that, smiling at my amazement, giggling when I sent a finger through the thickly curled pubic bush.
"You have got enough hair there to make a full wig for a bald man."
"I used to be ashamed of it Once I shaved it off but it grew back too thick."
"It hides your privates completely. Man, I can't see your slit at all."
I felt for the vulva and heard her gasp. The flat of my hand went right on it while my index finger slid between the lips. She started a hip action as my finger went all the way in, flicking over the clitoris.
"Ohhh, come, come stop that!"
For a moment my eyes went to her hips then to the shapely cheeks of her splendid ass. Then I was hot, eager, pushing her back upon the old, squeaking bed with my fingers on her warm thighs, pushing apart the silken-skinned legs.
Claudette, sensing what I was up to assisted me but when my mouth went to her vagina she screamed. My lips were there, pressing against the yielding opening of her womanhood.
"Oooohhh, no, noooo!"
My tongue entered, lashing around the hot cave, causing her to smolder and swing her bottom around and around. Her thighs twitched, slamming against my face, holding my head imprisoned. She cried out and clasped her breasts, squeezing the mounds.
"No, no, noop, do not eat me...no, no!"
The tip of my tongue tickled the outer lips, tasted the tiny soft hairs adorning the edges and delved inside again. For a second it rested on the tiny clitoris which had enlarged and overheated, then the tongue did a little more exploring.
"Mon Dieu!"
Ohhh, man, my tongue roved down that bubbling hall, it slapped first against one wall then the other, curled and uncurled and Claudette climaxed.
"Dieul Ohhhhhhhh!"
She lay back, gnashing her teeth, clenching her fists and kicking her legs out while the thin, pearl-colored liquid seeped out of her wide-open slit. I massaged her breasts, which seemed to be bursting out of the skin, sucked and bit and kissed the crusty tips and with my hands holding her hard, saucy ass washed her flat stomach, dribbling saliva and slapping it away with my tongue.
Claudette kept swinging an arm up and I knew she was checking her watch, ready all the time to call off the minutes. What a goalkeeper!
"Pompier de services," she whispers, her brown eyes all glazed, her mouth hanging slack with spittle draining from both corners.
A blow-job. Fine, but I want to work this out French style, in other words a sixty-nine position. "Okay, but let's make it soixante-neuj."
And don't you know as the bitch climbed over me she had to call out the fucking time again, warning me that less than seventeen minutes were left. I felt like smashing that watch. Really!
Anyway, there's a little maneuvering and suddenly I have her ass, so rounded and sweet and fresh in my face. I push it up a bit as she kneels all panting, blowing hot air over my upright weapon. Then I am kissing and licking those tasty cheeks, bringing them back and down a slight fraction until I have pussy to enjoy.
Claudette chews on my dong, gulping it into her mouth, inhaling half its length without choking, doing as perfect a job as that actress in the porno film, Deep Throat. That film received limited showing in Europe and was never seen in Paris so I wondered as I applied my mouth to her slit where she had received her instruction. Then I remembered the professional hand-job given me in the cinema and figured this haughty little bourgeois bitch had been around.
"Oooooaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
Her vaginal lips widened, becoming soft as an orgasm attacked her and the whole wet business was slammed into my face. The outflow was pasted cream-like across my mouth and chin while she punched down with her ass.
"Ow, ow, ow!" That was me yelling when her teeth sank into my column. It was flesh not cement, but she chewed me ragged. This time I was grateful when she raised her head and left my throbbing bone to mumble: "Six minutes left. No more, no less!"
I palmed her ass, pushing it up and she nearly tumbled off the small bed. Quickly I scrambled up to fling myself down facing her as she lay on her side moaning. Then she protested as I tried to shove my joy-stick into her cleft.
People say rape is not possible, that it takes cooperation on the part of the woman. Not being a rapist I never knew. But now I knew. I could not get into Claudette. She lay there with her hands clasping her breasts, her flat stomach bubbling up and her legs outstretched but stiffened.
The head of my whang was at that hairy entrance-way but the doors would not open. I pushed, and I prodded but it could not be forced in.
"What the hell, baby, loosen up." I pried her thighs wide apart and tried for another penetration but it wouldn't work.
Angrily, I grabbed the pillow, dirty as it was from the grease of a half-hundred heads and wedged it under her buttocks. The ass cheeks were hard, the muscles tight and I realized that Claudette was holding her lower body in such a manner that entrance was not possible.
"You have got to relax. I can't get in!"
Claudette's face assumed the haughty expression as before and she pushed me away to sit up. A swift glance at her watch and: "The time is over."
There I was, in the middle of the filthy bed, on my knees with my erected tool bobbing up and down while she ran water into the basin, mounted it and sluiced out her snatch.
"Hey, aren't you going to give me any satisfaction?"
She flicked the wetness from her pubic bush with the back on a hand and pulled on her panties. The brassiere was donned next then she sat on the bed to roll her stockings up over her slender legs.
To quiet me she offered a peck on the lips and ran her fingers through my hair. "You are a nice boy. You perform cunnilingus quite well."
"Sure, and you came twice but what about me? Are you running out?"
"I am way past schedule." That lousy time again. "Besides, you came in the cinema when I masturbated you. Be satisfied with what life gives you. Never demand more."
I blew out my breath. "This was a winning turn."
"Intercourse was not possible. Obtaining the pill creates too much embarrassment and I noticed that you had no contraceptives." She got on her dress, reached for her handbag and went to the door. "If by accident we meet on the street please do not say hello unless I am alone. Agreed?"
I just gave her a withering look and went after my clothes. Later as I went down the winding stairs the old man behind the desk made a crack.
"Ahhh, you young people!" He shook his head. "Two hours you had and less than half was used up. In my time five hours would not be enough. The trouble is that sex is easy these days, easily obtained, like a cigarette. In my time we cherished it, taking full advantage because the opportunity seldom arose."
"Ahh, go write your memoirs then, you old bastard." Disgusted, I went out into the streets.
Near the Rue de Tournon two flics hiding in a dark doorway to pounce on an unfortunate son of a bitch like me stepped out, demanding my identification.
"Votre papier!"
I showed my passport and deliberately spoke in English. "I'm a tourist, not some bomb-throwing Arab."
"Do not be funny," said one. He wrote my number down in a notebook and returned the passport in such a sloppy way that my fingers failed to grasp the corners. The result was that it fell in the gutter.
Did he pick it up? Hah! Yours truly had to do the bending to retrieve it and the fucking cop did not even apologize. I walked off, dragging a long shadow behind me, thinking it was a good way to end the night.
That bitch! Thinking I received satisfaction from a hand-job!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Life on the left bank of Paris was for the great unwashed society, I soon discovered, and not for me. One night, seeking a different type of restaurant, I wandered off the beginnings of the Boulevard St Michel into that labryinth of narrow, little twisting streets starting with the Rue du Chat qui Peche Wo the Rue de la Huchette to the claustrophobic Rue St Severin filled now with tourists from all of Europe trying to look like hippies or Sorbonne students, as well as Arabs, Persians, Turks and Africans. They shuffled slowly over the cobblestones, moving like snails past the tiny cinemas, cafes, bookshops. Music wailed, melodies of the Middle East as well as the beat sound of England from jukeboxes, transistor radios and tape recorders. There was the ping-ping of pinball machines, the squeal of girls and the rapid flow of conversation.
Thievery was the rule here, with pickpockets looking especially for unsuspecting Americans and shifty-eyed waiters charging double for a drink and failing to return with the change. There were freaks too, strung out on LSD, as well as homos garbed like women with their faces rouged and false hair hanging to the shoulders. The stink of hash was strong in the air and cars had a perilous time carving a path through the mob flooding the area.
Then-it happened!
The whining pim-pom of the salad wagon and suddenly the streets were blocked off, all ends filled with hard-faced flics some of whom carried sub-machine guns. The Arabs without official papers squeaked like rats and tried to ram themselves through the crowd into the protection of doorways. Students known as revolutionaries raced into the cafes to hide in toilets. But the crowd was too thick, escape was impossible and the flics formed a wedge to drive into us, brandishing their white clubs.
I was grabbed by the front of my jacket and slammed against a wall. They usually, I know, don't ask for your papers in a case like this. It was sensible to produce them rapidly.-
"American?"
"Oui."
The lousy bull flicked the pages of my passport, checking the entry stamp. He rattled off a number to a colleague nearby who consulted a list. The list, running to quite a few pages, had all trouble-makers grouped under nationality. Fortunately, I was not one of the Americans listed.
"Etudiant?" the pig wanted to know. "No. Tourist."
He was skeptical because I appeared younger than my years. So what? My hair wasn't long and my clothes were damned expensive.
"Show me your money."
His eyes bulged when I brought out the wallet that was filled with dollars and franc notes. He whistled and turned to the others. Suddenly, three of them surrounded me, shooting questions.
"Why is a wealthy American here, among the filth?"
"Why do you not remain with the proper tourists on the right bank, near the Champs Elysees area?"
The name of my hotel produced a worse reaction. "Your money? And you reside in such a hole?"
I shrugged. "It's one way to see Paris."
People were being pushed into the salad wagons, entire groups of them, girls as well as boys, French as well as Arabs. No discrimination here. The three flics worked me out of the mob toward the streets near a parked police car. I noticed that many automobiles were being stopped but-only the wrecks, the beat-up Renaults and Simcas and tinny Deux Cheveaux. No Mercedes or Chryslers or Jaguars cruising by were halted.
Other flics were called over but none knew me. My name, passport number and general description were copied down. I stood there patiently, unresisting. In one second they could have beaten me bloody with their white clubs.
"Right!" a flic snarled. "Get lost!"
I did not get lost, I got back to my hotel and checked out, then grabbed a taxi to take me across the Seine and up into the overly expensive sixteenth arrondissement. There, I signed into a four-star hotel on the Avenue Victor Hugo. If living Like a wealthy tourist would keep me out of trouble then by God, I was going to live like a wealthy tourist. But what fucking shits Parisian cops were!
Making mistakes seemed my way, for a few days later I stupidly found myself strolling past the Avenue de I'Opera up past the Cafe de la Paix toward the Rue Scribe where the American Express was. No one knew I was in Paris, but I figured I should check out the mail. I went through the swinging doors, past groups of tourists waiting to be taken on guided tours down the winding steps to the mail counter.
"Frankie Hil!" I said to one of the mail clerks and handed in my passport.
To my surprise she looked in the cubicles and handed me three letters. Puzzled, I paid the one franc fifty for the charge and went out into the Rue Scribe to read the letters. They were all from Barbara.
Oh God!
Apparently I had left a trail an amateur could follow. My moves were traced, not only the run to New Hampshire but my renewal of my passport. Checking the airlines was easy. Thus, Barbara, her parents and some New York detectives who wished to question me about my connection with two thieves named Jack and Alan knew I was in Paris.
Her letters were venomous, stating she was getting a divorce on grounds of desertion and the lawyer's fees would be charged to me. In addition, since she was not employed I would have to support her.
I skimmed the letters, not doing too thorough a reading. Then I went down the Rue Scribe to park at a cafe, order a beer and ponder my moves. Some young girl selling the Herald Tribune forced a copy on me. I sat there, sipping at the beer, looking through the newspaper but thinking of the stretch in jail that awaited me back in the States.
I had to get out of Paris but where could I go? A glimpse at the various news stories in the papers showed trouble down on the French Riviera. The waters of the Italian Riviera were polluted. There was a general strike in Rome. Hotels in Majorca were overcrowded, an epidemic had broken out in Portugal. Shit! Rumania, Hungary-No! Czechoslovakia also no, all iron-curtain territory. Greece?
I squinted up at the sky thinking of a hot sun, blue waters, brown girls flashing their naked thighs. What the hell, hadn't I read the book, Zorba the Greek? Why not? Paying for the beer, I trudged back to the American Express and bought a ticket for a flight leaving for Vienna. From there I'd fly down to Turkey and then cross over by boat to Greece. No sense in making things easier for Barbara or any detectives from New York. The shits!
I made it. Things worked out smoothly, and after eating the marvelous food in Vienna and screwing a blonde English tourist, a giant of a Viennese whore and the young girl who swept my hotel room, I took off for Istanbul.
That city was filthy! The dregs of humanity resided there, primitive types still acting as they had three or four hundred years before, yowling, wailing in that strange language, begging, trying to sell everything from worry beads to stolen watches that might run one hour if that, rings with false stones...Oohhh! I hit the section called the old city, visited the Grand Bazaar and got hustled by merchants peddling junk.
Surprisingly, a lot of them spoke some English. "Mister, mister," they would call out, offering Meerschaum pipes, winter coats made of thick suede and sheepskin, gold bracelets, copper trays, silk sultan pants that ballooned out and rugs. Rugs, rugs, rugs!
Some slit-eyed character straight out of old Asia carried a huge canister filled with coffee on his back. He poured some into a cup that thousands must have drunk out of, offering me a sip at a cheap price.
I brushed him off only to encounter a greasy-headed urchin of about twelve who would take me to a whore who was an ex-belly dancer. His English was good and he was persistent, following me from stall to stall. When I started to buy some almonds he warned me.
"No, mister, here they are stale."
He directed me further along the market to a cleaner-looking stall. At length, I agreed to go to see his dancer. "But she better not be diseased," I told the little bastard.
We marched through the pushing, shoving mob down an unpaved street to a series of houses that seemed about to topple into the river. Ragged rugs covered the doorway in lieu of a door. We went up squeaking stairs past a toilet where I heard someone evacuating his bowels and then entered a large room.
"There!" The gutter-snipe pointed at a woman relaxing on a couch. Above her were pictures of Hollywood stars and a map of Finland of all things. The room was filled with a weird assortment of cheap furniture, leather cushions, lamps, mirrors and of course, rugs. The rugs were on the wall, over the window, on the tiled floor and spread across a bed.
The woman was leafing through a magazine and munching away on thick slabs of halvah. She barely looked up as a kid rattled off several sentences. Finally, she replied, mumbling her gibberish but continuing to chew up the halvah and read the journal.
"She has said," the boy told me, "that she is not in the mood to dance."
"In that case tell her to go to hell."
"It is clear that she shall fuck for the grand sir, however."
"Oh, she will eh?"
The woman swallowed the last of the halvah and got up, licking the tips of her fingers. "Thirty dollar!"
Ahh, they can never speak English except when it comes to cash. I looked about, knowing that no man who wandered into a dump like this would expect to pay thirty dollars.
"See! Will the grand sir look at Fatima and understand that her body has all things." The boy pointed, selling the whore. "Breasts! Hips! And..." here he shouted in Turkish and with a lazy sigh the woman turned, displaying her rear end. "Buttocks!"
She wore a silken kimono of a violent red buttoned at the neck and reaching down to her naked ankles. Her breasts were obvious but she had to pull the garment tight for me to judge the contours of her buttocks.
A fool is born every minute I considered as I counted out twenty-five dollars. "Here! Not one penny more."
"Thirty!" The word came through her teeth like a whisper.
The boy looked foolishly at the money. "The grand sir should know that a dancer of Fatima's talents must have thirty."
"Yeah. Well the grand little pimp should tell the grand belly dancer who is too lazy to dance that thirty is a lot of money."
Fatima displayed her wares. Off came the silken wrapper and this boy found himself coughing up thirty dollars. The little pimp snatched up five dollars and fled wishing the grand sir a pleasant fuck.
She was big, and she was sort of fat with the kind of a belly that bastards from the Middle East would prize above diamonds, but she was dynamically curved, her body a series of balls. How old? Well, who could say with these Oriental women. And as for her face...it should have been covered with a veil. But that body!
I made certain the door of her room was locked and to prevent anyone breaking in while I mounted her I pushed the wooden chest of drawers against the door. Then I stripped, resting my clothing on a leather camel saddle not far from the bed.
She walked about in a hip-flinging way to put a disc on a cheap record player. When she plugged the cord into a wall socket I was shocked for I didn't think electricity was available.
"Halvah?"
"No, no!" I pointed at my erected penis, thinking that was the best way of indicating I wished to get down to business.
Fatima broke off some halvah, popped it between her greasy lips, licked the remains from her fingers and tugged the rug from the bed. The sheets were purple with a square like a baby's rubber diaper located in the spot where our privates would rest. Fatima, apparently, did not wish her sheets soiled with come.
The music played on and on, whining bazookas, moaning Turks and soft drum-beats. Fatima frowning, examined my penis for signs of disease. Then she poked her finger into my bush looking for crawling crabs.
"No lice, sweetheart. Now come on, give me my thirty dollars worth."
She applied a match to some incense and its fragrance filled the room. Then her hands worked me over, tickling every inch of my body, hardening my penis until it was pliable steel. There were no kisses but a lot of foreplay with our fingers. Her breasts, two tremendous globes hung down, too soft, not at all firm but nevertheless still powerful enough to whet my passion.
The thick pile of hair carpeting her privates was the same texture as on her head, jet black, coarse. Her waist had a "roll of flesh around it, put there by wine and greasy food and sweets, but her mammoth thighs were round and hard with the brown skin softer than silk.
She got into position on the bed, staring dreamily up at the ceiling while my hands did some traveling. Her body, filled with heat, caused my desire to steam. I caressed her strong leg muscles, petted her thighs, fondled the mound under the black silk rug and this produced a smile from the former belly dancer.
Her eyes, bright black, shone, and there was a trace of brazenness in her face that I found lust-provoking. It was difficult to judge her age. The sag of her belly and breasts might cause me to pick thirty-five or even forty as her age. Somehow we communicated and she stated that she had lived on this earth for twenty-eight years.
These Moslem types aged quickly, I knew. Twenty-eight and she looked ten years more than that. I thought of sweet, silky Jean back in New Hampshire, of Jeannette Cosmo, who was forty-five but fantastic. Then I wondered what in hell I was doing here, in the room of a run-down whore.
But my thirty dollars was gone so I ought to get full value. I jabbed my hands under her great buttocks, raised her and penetrated, delving into a hot, cream-filled hole.
Here my ex-dancer showed her skill and started to buck under me and thrash her ass around and spur me on to rise and fall swiftly, jerkingly. Her inner muscles would relax then tighten, milking my manhood. She bit down on her lower lip, bent her broad back and embraced me passionately with her arms and legs.
Now and then she would stop the action and with a wild twist of her ass expel my penis from her slit Then she would feel it with her fingers while a questioning look came into her eyes.
She expected me to come. Hell, what did she think I was anyway? I was a man who took his time, kept a tight grip on his control. As she tucked my thing back into her large case I made up my mind to make her climax.
We fucked. And the music came to an end with the needle scraping the still-spinning disc but we made other music-the bed groaned on its springs and the four wooden legs creaked.
After examining my penis for the third time Fatima knew that she was dealing with the champion and started to labor under me moaning out the words of her language. Her big, bulbous buttocks wriggled while her fat stomach oscillated.
She shuddered, sucked in breath and twisted and turned in an incessant rhythm. But I was lunging in and out, battling Fatima, offering no quarter, sweltering between her hard thighs.
My hands tried to hold the large breasts but they were too big, wet from sweat, rolling about on her chest. Swiftly, I clutched the hard ass again and used a tempo that was teasing, bringing my cock out slowly until her vaginal lips ringed the balled tip almost lovingly-and then speedily I'd ram it in.
That took care of my lady friend, that carried her up the hill of lust, past all passion to the high tip of ecstasy. She let out some yells and gripped me with a brutal force. My lunges quickened as her rotund hips twisted in rapid circles.
Waves of passion flung her up and I had to really capture her pumping ass or fall over her soft body. Her golden-brown skin became red and her breathing got louder. Fatima released a curse, swallowed in an attempt to catch her breath, failed and then...her lusts boiled over.
She was not in a bed fucking for a living but in a harem, dancing before the Sultan, twirling her ass, revolving her stomach, swinging her shoulders, sending her breasts flying, whirling and spinning and-coming!
"Eeeee...gaaaaa...gaggggg!" she shouted, and then I was holding a dead woman.
It was time to let go and I did, paying her further with several last, brutal thrusts, my hands clinging more avidly to her stilled ass. Then, the faucets were opened and cream spurted out of me.
"Ahhhhh...oooohhhh!"
I remained in her until my tool got soft and started to retreat, pulling up and up till it was small and flopped out of the scum-filled hole.
She was happy, lying there and smiling, showing me gold teeth and greasy lips. It was time to get out before the sight of her became disgusting. As I got off the stench floated up out of her privates, not at all pleasant.
Farewell to Istanbul, I thought and reached for my clothes. She indicated that I could linger longer, have another one, on the house. No, no, I pointed to my watch, hoping she would get the idea that I had a train to catch.
As I left, staggering past the toilet where some poor soul continued a battle with diarrhea, I hoped that the girls in Greece who hustled for thirty dollars would offer not only a slim body but a fresh-smelling one.
The rest of my tale is soon told. I landed in Cyprus, rented a house, got involved with slender redhead Olivia and her shitty husband. And-war came!
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was a madhouse, an area filled with lunatics who panicked to leave the holiday resort they had all flocked to in droves. British and American citizens had an easy time of it but still it was first come, first served, and as the ships came in to be swiftly loaded confusion resulted. In the ensuing melee families were separated and husbands left bawling on the docks as their wives and children sailed off.
The hot sun weakened me and seeing there was no chance of getting off until the following morning I booked into a hotel. In the late afternoon I encountered a crying Olivia and discovered that through a mix-up her man had been squeezed onto a freighter. It took time to cheer the poor redhead, assuring her there'd be a place on the next boat. In my room, however, she cheered up and set about playing the old game of exciting me. I chatted, delaying the sex act as long as possible. Her damp blouse had been removed and her shoes kicked elsewhere.
"Well, here we are, man and wife...for the night."
"We certainly aren't acting very married."
She was sitting now, arms supporting her upper torso, the long legs stretched out, blinking the light lashes that were like fans on her browned, chubby cheeks. The huge globes that were her breasts tightened the bra, pulling the material tight.
There was some story she told about those boobs which I struggled now to remember. A while back they sagged, due to heaviness. But then Olivia had gotten sick and a doctor recommended hormone shots. Suddenly, the flesh on her body had hardened and those tits, despite their weight, rose sky-high and stood straight out
Troubles weighed heavily on my back but the fever was on me again and I was hard as rock. My penis, strapped down by tight-fitting underwear, began to ache.
"Okay, okay. Stand up and walk around like you always did at my swimming pool."
"Poor Frankie can't do without it."
"Poor Frankie would like to do without it, especially at a time like this."
She rose wordlessly, slung the damp blouse about her shoulders and did a model's walk before me, flinging her long legs out, using the same old heel-and-toe step that had her curved buttocks rolling obscenely.
"How am I doing?"
"Judging from what's happening to me, damned well. But just keep tossing that rear around."
"All right but hell, are we going to be at this all day?"
The girl kept on walking and twisting and hot and cold flashes charged my spine. As I followed her around the hotel room watching the sway of her hips, I swallowed my breath.
The cleft dividing her cheeks brought to mind certain images and I struggled to create the right description, A valley between round hills. Perfect, that was it. Man! My excitement created a roaring, burning sexual fury.
I opened the windows to bring in fresh air and tore " at my clothes. Olivia was already stripped, her damp clothing on the floor.
She came into my arms for a brief kiss, nestling her hot face against my chest and wrapped a hand around my penis. Her grip tightened and I squeezed my eyes shut as she stroked the tool.
"I'll masturbate you, my lord and lover."
"No, no."
"Yes. Then I'll make you all hard again and we can have sex for a long time."
She was too wild, this girl, and could bring me to orgasm swiftly. With other women I was masterful, unbelievably potent, but seldom with this girl. It was sometimes a case of in, out and now let's have a good wash.
"Just leave off the prehminaries like a good girl, all right?"
"Well, there's no one to bother us now. I mean my husband's gone and we certainly can't get away until the morning."
"Let me play with the delicious rear of yours for a bit."
She sighed, "All right, play away."
I sat on the bed and bent her long body over iny knees. I stroked the resilient rounds of her backside, punctured the firm flesh with my fingernails, pinched and tested each cheek.
"Man, it is an ass!"
"Hey, what's taking you so long?" Her hair touched the rug and the blood was rushing to her head. "Just playing with the toys."
Play I did, pushing each round globe, one this way, the other that way. The action caused her vagina to twist and as the lips rubbed together the clitoris was mashed. Olivia started leaking. A feminine odor rose strongly in the air.
"Quick, ohh please, quick! I'm like a damned faucet that hasn't been turned off!"
In bed she lay face down while I continued to worship her can, pasting the hottest kisses on the up-thrust melons. I sank my teeth into the hard meat and tongued every millimeter of those mounds. Finally, I used them like twin pillows to rest my flushed face.
"All right now, Frankie?"
I rose and slapped the cheeks about, treating them like balls. "Yeahhh, this ass!"
"You're an ass man, but that hurts!" "Oh, I like breasts too."
"But what about my face? I got a beautiful face for crissakes!"
"Who says you haven't? But what the hell can a man do with a face, look at it?"
The thrusting mounds squirmed impatiently. She told me that she could not wait. I slid my arms about her waist and pulled her hips up, preparing to mount her in dog fashion.
I gripped her thighs, squeezing with real force. I readied myself, holding my penis in a straight line, and went right into her cave, taking her from the rear, lunging in with such speed that she reached the zenith of sensation.
"Oh!"
Large girl that she was, wet as her entry was, it was still too small at the moment to accommodate my rock-hard weapon. Yet she welcomed the invasion, for it burst into her like a bomb.
"Ah! Your-thing!"
"And it is something, isn't it?"
"Oh, oh, oooohhhh!"
"Olivia, your ass! You lovely big bitch...that hot, ball-shaped ass! You amazon bitch, you!"
She began to describe the sensations. Dizzying waves of lust had her. My instrument was turning in her tight hole like an overlarge bolt in a too-small nut. A real screw, and that is why this game was called screwing. But I was pumping into her too swiftly, my movements far too rapid for her to catch.
"Oh, please slow down!"
"Ugh...ugh...ugh!"
I was making sounds like a drowning dog and she knew as well as I that I was coming. She ceased revolving her ass, feeling I suppose that this would calm me but suddenly I flooded her snatch with the results of my excitement.
"No, no, not so soon!"
"Aghhhhhhh!" I remained within, still making barking noises like a drowning dog, but I had to pull out. Scum dribbled down her thighs.
"Damn it to hell!" She shouted from anger.
"Baby, it was that ass that did it!" I lay on my side, shuddering. "It brought me on too swiftly."
"Why'd it happen?" She beat the bed with her palms. "Now it'll take you a long time to get strong again and I'm to go without satisfaction."
"Give me a moment."
She eyed my penis sceptically. "A moment will find you about the size of a one-year-old child."
I knew she was angry but what the hell, these things happen every now and then. I was seldom a premature ejaculator but what could I offer her as an excuse?
Her hair was falling over her face. She shoved the thick mass of it away and knelt over me as I lay there. She fondled my muscled arms and thumped my hard chest with her fist. Then she squeezed my flattened belly, trying to gather the flesh in both hands.
My fingers slid through her hair, bringing her head down, further down. "Come on, freshen me up, do a job on me."
"What I planned on doing."
"So?"
She needed no encouragement to fellate me, to lick my softening penis dry, working her tongue from the rounded tip to the root and under to the sack of hairy balls.
I was ready again, my genitals a hard bulge, my weapon massive, possibly more now than this tall girl could absorb. Yet, she urged me on.
"Ahhh, it got soo big!"
"It's what you wanted."
I worked a finger through the curled, silken hairs covering her vagina. They were red and thick as a muff. I went down between her thighs, drawing closer. Her flat belly was slippery with sweat as it went against my fiery loins. A delicious thrill, indeed a shocking thrill went through the big redhead.
"Yeeeooow! Oooohhh!" Her legs were now drawn way up, her knees bent, and she pressed a palm against her opened mouth.
Now it was quite easy for me after that to grasp her thighs, pry them apart, tease her vagina with the tip of my rod and enter, stretching the soft sides.
It was not only ecstatic but sensational too and she stifled a scream as the penis went in slowly, hollowing her insides out..
She arched, I pushed down, and soon I was buried so deep that our pubic hairs, hers reddish and my brown, interlocked.
"Oh, God! You are bigger than before, it is a...penis!"
"Well, it's not a finger."
"Ooohhh, am I happy!"
She rotated her buttocks, pushing up at me. My hands tightened their grip, grabbing her flesh hard. Her womanhood held fast to my bar, milking it as I rose, milking it as I came down.
Twice in just a few minutes was too much for me. I always kept myself in shape, could swim, run, play tennis for long stretches. But sex with this great big redhead took a different type of strength. There was something about her, something indescribable that turned me on.
She climaxed once, squealed and sighed and climaxed again and demanded a third. The exertion began to tell on me, still I stabbed in and out of her, grit-, ting my teeth as she bawled out her third climax.
"Don't come yet," she begged, "please don't come yet."
The girl was opening her thighs wider as I surged into her, sobbing as I bore in, sighing with unhappiness as I pulled the rigid tool out.
"A fourth one's coming up...isn't it?"
"Ahhh, yes, ahhh yes, but give me a fifth too, and a sixth."
"I can't hold out that long."
"You can, please, please."
"Can't...give...too...much...more."
"You must!"
I gasped as she reached her fourth orgasm. She fell back as it faded but my lunging into her increased. I brought her up, kneading that ass that I adored, grabbing up handfuls. Then I thrust deeper into her, setting that opening on fire and not giving a damn.
"Ahhhh...no, no!"
"Man, you are going to pop off, girlie! Good, good. Do it, do that crazy thing!" "Coming, coming, coming!"
Again she described the hot swirling in her boiling loins. The sensations proved much too wild and she bounced on the bed, beat my back with her fists and rammed herself up, up! And came again.
My time had arrived, and I was climaxing too. And what was more, getting there first, beating this big redheaded bitch to her sixth orgasm. Everything blurred before my eyes, then I let out a real gasp of bewilderment and-I burst into her.
"Ahhhhh, ahhhhh!"
"Grrrrr!" Again, I was the barking dog.
"Eeeee!" She must have felt the hot flush of sperm but actually was yelling because she was there, with me, on the path to ecstasy.
Her long, big-calved legs curled around my waist. She dominated the finish, her movements, while rapid, certainly artful and calculated. Her hips worked, her luscious ass ground together and she flowed, the juice leaving her vagina, a real river on which she floated off into an unknown world.
That evening we returned to the hotel room, satisfied after a good dinner. A couple of cold bottles of beer were on hand and we drank and chatted, discussing the crazy situation on this island and our doubtful future. As Olivia, leaning against the clothes cabinet, sipped at her beer I looked her over, marveling at her beauty. Pity she was a hippie and tied up, otherwise I might consider a more permanent relationship.
"Tomorrow we'll probably say good-bye."
"I guess so." Marvelous creature, I thought, a sight to behold. That thick streaked red hair, those tanned shoulders, those flecked eyes, that lush mouth and shapely nose. I remembered that when she was in the throes of a climax her nostrils always opened and closed rapidly like a race horse's.
"Ahh, Olivia, Olivia." I looked at her well-developed breasts, studying them with awe. Each was like a ball that had been halved. I felt my breath catch suddenly in my throat.
"What's the matter?"
"What do you think."
"Hot again?" She slapped her out-thrust buttocks. "This! Is it so goddamned special?"
My hands went to my garments. "Take off your clothes."
She did, taking sips at the bottle as she peeled down. My hands strained toward the lush breasts. The tips of my fingers touched the nipples. I weighed each globe, assessing the size while her roaming hands found me in a state of hardness.
"like rock. What's come over you?" She finished her beer with a swift swallow.
"Something's got to be done about it, eh?"
"Only one thing I can do." She put the bottle on the night table.
Right into bed we went. I kissed her thighs, licking up all the sweat that was pebbled there. Kneeling between her legs I parted the lips of her privates. At once the tall redhead began to spend, leaking stuff out of the opening.
"OooOOOHHH!"
My mouth and tongue were on her slit making her think that it was like the very end of an extremely wonderful life. She screamed out that she was going to die. Desire shot through her like an injection of raw cocaine.
She clapped her hands to my head, keeping my working lips securely glued to her femalehood. After that a soothing peace came over her. She sighed and begged me to please lie down.
"That was such a good orgasm-ooohhh, how can I leave?"
"Baby, you're fabulous!"
"Come on, now it's my turn to make you happy. Come."
The red-haired girl performed beautifully, blowing me with experience, chewing on my instrument, sucking it in such a manner that I imagined the whole thing, all that curving, ball-topped tube of flesh was resting in a bed of velvet.
The girl puckered her lips, running up and along the full length until she felt the tiny veins throbbing. But she went all the way, trying to swallow the entire cock until I was on the verge of spilling my hot seed.
"Baby, you are taking me all the way in...like that girl did...in the movie Deep Throat."
"Didn't see it," she mumbled.
"R was banned here...I saw it...ahhh...oohhh...back in the States."
She sat up suddenly, smiling, and then I realized she was waiting until my fever had cooled before straddling me, taking a position I always enjoyed. She lowered her tall, curved body on to my penis, impaling her flesh on my great upright bar. A heavy sinking had me completely taken up, gloved. Then she worked the hefty cheeks of her ass.
"There, there, there!"
I bucked and arched as if to throw her off and my tool in the tight entrance was like a crowbar, attacking. She answered me wantonly, heaving her big ass all over. I came, and the seeds of my lust shot up into her and drained out, spilling down her curvaceous limbs, but I remained within.'
The act continued. My hands held fast to the luscious ass, pulling the cheeks apart while I squirmed under her. Perspiration dribbled down the fabulous breasts and still she gave, churning her thighs, writhing her upper torso in rhythm to the frantic beat.
When she ended, moaning out her orgasm, she doubled over, squeezing her firm thighs together. Spasm after spasm wracked her. Her rounded hips vibrated and she gasped out a plea.
"Stop...now...stop!"
"Darling...I have stopped."
"Take it. . . Ohhh Lord...take it out...of me."
"Okay, raise your behind up a bit...yes like that."
I withdrew and she let out a squeal because my manhood had retained its stretch. The tip glistened and the total length all the way down to my hairs was creamed but that did not detract from its hardness.
"Hey...I've got more in me."
"No!"
"Ohh, yes, indeedy."
She pleaded but allowed her body to become elastic as I arranged her on her back for another, more determined invasion. She begged for a rest, claiming she was terribly fatigued, but that just brought on a laugh because I knew this redhead too well. What I had was stuffed right back into her.
Olivia shrieked when I was completely lodged in her. My hands went sliding under her trembling yet still hemispheric buttocks and the fingers interlaced. The poor redheaded bitch was caught, unable to move until I gave the signal.
"I mastered you, didn't I?"
"Yes," she admitted weakly.
"It took time and a lot of screwing but now I am the boss."
"Aahhhh...I am your slave, but you have to let the slave rest." "Afterwards."
"You...ohhh, I am so tired...you will have to do all the work."
"Can't you move anymore?"
She shook her head from side to side. Fatigue was stamped on her youthful face. "No!" "If I drive in and out will you join me?" "I can't, I tell you."
"Oh yes? That ass of yours is soon going to start turning."
I pulled her limp body up. Then, I was in and out of her at top speed, truly slamming her. The girl cried but her body willingly accepted the punishment and soon, as I predicted, she joined in. Now the redhead gave herself up to the wildest, most violent pounding of our brief relationship.
It took me a long time to ejaculate even though she was coming on the minute constantly. Then I toppled over from exhaustion.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The confusion of the day before was still in existence. My passage, guaranteed earlier, had gone to someone else. No amount of cajoling or arguing about fair play helped. The authorities were firm. I was forced to say farewell to a departing Olivia and try my luck elsewhere on the docks, joining a long queue. We were a worried group, all of us, under that blazing sun and moving at snail's pace toward a tin shed where the boys in uniform asked foolish questions and stamped papers.
Now and then the sound of the big guns reached us and occasionally a Turkish plane flew too close. A day or even less would have the war near; perhaps fighting would be raging right here on the docks.
The man in front of me, big, hard-faced, a little too fat in his wrinkled silk suit, got the shakes. I urged him to hold on.
"Don't worry, they won't bomb here," I reassured him. "Those British ships out there in the bay have guns too."
He mopped his totally bald and fiery-red pate with a wet handkerchief. "I could use a drink, by God."
As we neared closer to the shed I kept chatting to keep his spirits up. He was American, I learned, an investment broker with holdings in this part of Europe. Now and then he looked around, searching the crowd for signs of his wife. He introduced himself to me as Baudon, from New York. My name caused him to think and he kept sucking his cheeks.
"Heard it before, but where?"
Then we were at the shed, before the officials. We were questioned briefly and then walked up the gangplank of an old freighter. Baudon presumably found his wife and his drink. I saw no more of him then. The prow of the ship was aimed in the direction of Italy, where no war existed.
Things proceeded normally on the old tub. The bar was open, food passed out, and the trembling so evident among the refugees before had passed. There was music, picture-taking, card-playing, dancing, and I even saw some couples balling.
Toward late afternoon my tired eyes fell on a tall, full-bodied woman in her early thirties. She was light-haired, pretty with a good nose, large mouth and slanting dark eyes. Her dress of summery material was tight along curving hips and sucked into the separation of thrusting buttocks. Some distance along the deck a young, curly-haired guy in a sailor's working outfit was looking left and right.
A show of sorts was in progress and intrigued I ducked into a dark alcove to watch. The gap between the woman and man closed. A little more sure of himself the sailor padded along on canvas shoes to take the woman in his arms. He pulled her backwards, out of sight, and I saw the dress pushed high above long, very brown thighs.
A connection was made. The man's grunt was low, the woman's gasp drawn out. Then I saw his work-hardened fingers on her waist, pulling her in. The surprising thing was she wore no panties. Obviously she had been prepared for the act all along.
No one was in this area of the deck and they had all the privacy and time needed to reach full satisfaction. The woman's rump, two lush balls, slightly lighter in hue than her firm thighs, twisted around and around and around, rhythmic, circular.
It was time for me to exit. The role of voyeur was fine until you were affected-and I was!
In the bar, I downed a whisky and found myself next to fat Baudon. He slammed me on the back, shouting that he now had connected my name with an incident. I experienced a spurt of panic but held my cool.
"Really?"
"Sure. Frankie Hill. You married a lovely girl named Barbara. Sure, I'm part of that crowd."
Her relatives are very wealthy, I admitted, meaning that if he had money he would move in the same crowd. However, when he became personal, practically demanding a reason for my running out on Barbara, I excused myself and faded.
I avoided him for the rest of the journey and when the freighter docked I scurried off onto Italian soil and purchased a train ticket to go on up into Switzerland.
The money on hand had run out so that meant a trip to the bank. There I produced my credentials, noting the bank officials viewed my appearance (I hadn't shaved in days) with alarm. But my identity was established and funds easily withdrawn.
A taxi driver took me to a first-class hotel and there I indulged myself in luxury, enjoying a double room. Signing in, I followed the bellboy who carried my bags into the elevator, rode up to the top floor and entered an airy room that overlooked the city.
I tipped the boy, closed the door and settled in a hot tub thinking that I had indeed led quite a life lately. But it was too frantic and the consequences inevitable. It was time to get hold of myself and keep out of trouble.
It wasn't exactly pleasant to find out a day later that the Baudons had a suite down the hall. And it was a shock to be introduced to his wife, Lorraine, and discover that she was the stunning woman who had screwed for the young sailor in a stand-up position.
The Baudons invited me to dinner and I stupidly accepted. Of course, during the entire meal Lorraine kept rubbing knees with me under the table and sliding her hand along my thigh to cup my ever-hardening penis. The trouble I had sworn I would avoid was coming back into my life.
It culminated in a swift, raw sexual turn during a party the Baudons threw in their luxurious suite. A mob attended. Where the Baudons got them from I don't know but I imagine every bar and discotheque and cafe in Geneva was scoured with invitations issued right and left. Twice the management complained about the noise and there was even talk of the police.
Two hours of drinking and listening to nonsense was just two hours wasted. I headed for my rooms. In the corridor I had to elbow my way past a group of sweating, laughing characters to reach my place. I closed the door, sighing, locking out the noise.
I stripped to my shorts, flung my clothes about and entered the bathroom. I washed my hands and face, brushed my teeth and looked into the cabinet mirror to check the toll recent adventures had taken. No two ways about it, I was looking shot.
"It certainly took you a while to get here," said a female voice.
"Huh!" I was startled to see Lorraine Baudon sitting way in the corner, on the edge of the bathtub.
"You've got bad eyes and bad hearing." She came forward, as tall as me, exciting in a party dress with her face flushed from excitement.
I should have tried to judge her expression, determine the reason why she was here in my bathroom, but I remembered the incident on the boat with the sailor and there was the sudden burning in my groin.
"You'd make a good thief. I really didn't hear you."
"I should have been here hours ago. After all, I did extend an invitation to you a few days ago when we dined out. Or are you too slow to catch on?"
Her eyes were sparkling, I noticed, and the tip of her tongue kept flicking along the edges of her wide, full mouth. Without awaiting my answer she got out of her high-heeled shoes and gripped the ends of her panties to pull them off.
"You are insane, baby." I jerked a thumb in the direction of the party. "Your man is going to start hunting. I was a stranger to him before but now he knows exactly who I am and can make trouble. I'm hiding from people in New York."
"New York is far away in America and this is Geneva, Switzerland." She raised her dress to reveal a pair of finely shaped thighs and the mound of light hair below her belly. "Take me."
Even while I was saying no she unzipped my trousers and pulled out the length of hardness. It was somewhat rubbery at first but once free it took on the usual size, becoming a veritable hose.
"Hey! We're going to have some enjoyment." She licked her lips as she grasped my penis. "Lorraine is going to have herself a damned good time!"
What was the use of avoiding it? So there we were, kissing hurriedly with me feeling the thrusting velvet tip of her tongue. But after I tore my lips free and smothered her neck with hot kisses she sighed and twitched her thighs nervously. My hand went down, searching, the forefinger flicking at the bushy covering.
She whined and slammed herself at me. My finger busy with her clitoris had her convulsing. Her arms whipped about my neck and she demanded more kisses. Soon, my lips were again glued to hers, with her teeth sinking into my mouth the very moment she spent.
I felt the hot, creamy liquid flowing along my finger and rolling along the palm of my hand. She made the usual sounds a woman climaxing does and then at last she recovered her breath and eased me away. The melting ecstasy she had just experienced, I told her, was nothing compared to what she was about to receive.
I bent slightly, to examine the light pubic hair, so curled and wet now, and the pouting lips of her vagina. The odor lingering there had me as it always would, on the brink of madness. Immediately, I fell to my knees, clasped my hands about her shapely, squirming backside and pasted my mouth to the trembling slit. She was done full justice as I kissed the crack, the button within the hairy area surrounding the joyous opening.
There was a wild shriek, louder than any noise created by the party next door, and she climaxed. I looked up, still holding tightly to her quivering buttocks while the woman flung her arms out and shouted. Her breasts, like halved grapefruit topped with strawberries, were bared as the buttons flew off the dress and it parted in the center.
It took a while until she calmed down. Then, rising, I sat on the edge of the bathtub and requested that she spread her legs wide and straddle me. She had removed her expensive party dress and now faced me, beautifully naked. Laughing because she was so happy, she climbed atop me, her firm, rounded thighs shooting out at different angles, her buttocks resting on my knees.
She drew herself closer, straining the muscles in her hard thighs and with her feet firmly planted on the tiled bathroom floor raised her ass ever so lightly. "Ah hah, here we go...oooooohhh!"
With the balled end of my instrument placed at the wet crack, I gathered myself and went up, dividing the lips neatly, pushing and pushing the long column of curved flesh up the velvet lined halls. Wetness seeped from the corners of her closed eyes, but they were tears of happiness.
Now the married bitch's rounded butt started its revolutions, going around and around. I gasped and reared up and held her breasts that were still the virginal shape of a young ghTs. My fingertips shaped the buds into crusted points.
She linked her hands behind my head and rubbed the lower portion of her torso against me. Her weight was tossed from one leg to the other while her magnificent rear end continued its erotic rotation.
"Eeeeaaahhhh!" She shouted and shuddered her way through an orgasm. My sudden in and out movements had her delirious, but when the last of the crazy things ceased happening to her, I came.
"Ugh, ohhh ugh, ugh...I am delivering my load." ' "No, no, ohhh, no, not yet!"
"Yeah, yeah!"
I shot like the bastard I was, pouring the hot cream into her privates. It filled up the slot and overflowed, draining out, wetting her still-moving thighs and rolling along the hard, pulsing column that was my penis.
"Oooooh, why didn't you wait, ohh, why didn't you control yourself?"
The poor woman looked down at the results of my joy running down her long legs, three different colored streams that blended somewhere near her knee to look like fallen drops of jelly.
She washed herself by climbing onto the basin, talking all the time about her disappointment, claiming that men thinking only of their pleasure were always so quick. If the silly woman had looked into the mirror she would see that as I undressed, removing every stitch of clothing, my sword was still up and eager for more business.
"Bend over the tub, baby."
"You mean you still can?"
"I wouldn't ask you to take that position if I couldn't. So, come on!"
Delighted, she leaned over the bathtub. I went on, praising the shape of her rump, letting her know that I considered it a beautiful work of art, all roundness and firmness. I kissed the suntanned balloons, going over every inch of them with my rasping tongue.
"Ohhh, it's wonderful but-can't you come into me?"
All right, she wanted to save the fondling and the kissing for another time. As she knelt, widening the rounds of her delicious behind even more, the cheeks tightened, like hard melons.
But this moment I was insane. I simply could not have enough of that rear end. I rested my chin on them and then, sighing, sank my teeth into the flesh, thinking I was in a fruit orchard.
"Ohhh, enough of that! Ahhh, darling, it is torture for me."
"Okay, okay." At last I ceased stroking the balls and poised above her, drove my penis into her silken vagina, entering from the rear in a direct and driving thrust. She squealed but gyrated her succulent cheeks non-stop.
The bathroom then became our jungle and we were two animals, male and female copulating in a frenzy with my movements hammering blows. Poor girl, she was forced to clutch the lips of the bathtub and lean over it, her breasts hanging.
"Ooohhhh!"
"It's that behind of yours, it's driving me to a point I have never been before."
Who knows how much time elapsed? But now she was afraid and pleaded with me to let her get back, that her husband would again start his usual search. But I noticed she made no effort to leave and when I asked her to he down she did, stretching her length over the nylon rug and spreading her thighs to the limit.
I went between her legs, readied my manhood and shot it in in a rapid penetration. She merely murmured but when our groins smacked together she came alive. She locked her legs about mine, flattened her hands on my behind and shoved herself up lustily.
I held her solidly, my hands running up her long legs to the upper reaches of her firm, rounded thighs. Her ass bounced like a ball on the floor while my member, throbbing inside her, increased in dimension and hardness.
"Yiiieeee!" She was climaxing and making those coyote sounds because the thrill had sneaked right up on her, the emotion moving' like a thief. The tide of joy that was an orgasm washed over her. Just as rapidly, the waters of lust faded and her juicy vagina tightened about my intruding bar. She fell back, almost dead, except for the rhythmic grind of her rotund behind. "Did I do you good this time?"
"Much better, oohh, so much better than before, but darling, we must stop. All right? Come now, please, quickly."
If I had allowed nature to take its course I would have shot then, releasing a bolt of hot stuff in her, but her pleas went contrary to her wishes and just simply recharged me, adding to my durability, increasing my staying power.
Her next climax brought on a blood-chilling yell. I just clenched my teeth and held fast to her long, full body. "Keep on coming, because I feel that I can ride you all night."
"Ahh, no, no, ahhh noooo. Another one will tear me up, so please stop." But-there she was, surrendering to another climax, shouting more happily now for she probably felt the sperm leaving my penis.
"Ughhhhh!" I let go and fell across her, my arms sliding along the tiled floor.
Somehow, without my cooperation, she struggled her way from under my weight and got up, wobbling, almost in a state of shock. Every inch of her was soaking wet. Her thighs kept jerking and her hips went twisting. She had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out.
"Get me a drink! All this screwing...my God, you are a monster!"
"Wait a minute!" I rose to my knees, holding on to the edge of the bathtub.
While Lorraine kept on about having herself a drink I thought I detected a noise out in the bedroom. Fear crept up on me when I considered that we might have been caught but then the party rose in volume and I shook the feeling off. "I need a drink!"
"Yeah, for crissakes! I know you need a drink and so do I but will you give me a second!"
Suddenly I heard someone padding around and then the door of the bathroom was gently eased open. A hand bearing a glass of alcohol, filled to the halfway mark came through.
The woman, instead of giving in to some amazement and seeing who belonged to the hand, simply grabbed the glass and drank the lot in one gulp.
Not me. I had seen the hand, fat, veined, thick-fingered, adorned by a thick gold wedding ring and far too expensive platinum and diamond wristwatch. The jewelry of a rich man and that meant Lorraine's husband, Baudon.
The door was opened and there he was, big, fat, bald-headed in a tuxedo that was wrinkled, as were most of the clothes he wore, and not at all happy at the tableau we presented.
"My party wasn't good enough for you so you brought my wife here to have one of your own. Right?"
"Jeees, I am sorry!"
"I'd be a fool to believe that. Befriend you and you take advantage of me. No wonder Barbara's family shuddered at the thought of your marrying her. Poor girl, she really has my sympathy."
Lorraine buried her sweating face in her hands and sobbed: "No, no!"
"Get your clothes on, you cheap prostitute. People are leaving now and I don't want you saying good-bye to them in your birthday suit."
"Ohh, God, ohh God," wailed Lorraine, trying to make cheap melodrama out of what was a common thing.
"Loud as the party was I heard you screaming your head off. I haven't heard you scream out in orgasm like that since we were first married."
I bundled up my clothing and left her in the bathroom to dress. There was no point in getting all covered so I just donned pants and a shirt. Baudon was well connected in this town, and whatever the laws of Switzerland were, he would know how to use them. He would slam me with adultery, alienation of affections and anything else his successful Swiss lawyers could think of.
There was no point in carrying the game to the limit so I turned my back on them and went to stand on my balcony. It was time to get on my running shoes and put this city far behind. Man, why was I always blamed! Ahhh, shit!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
My sleep was uninterrupted considering that the party lasted well on into the dawn. After breakfast I went out, purchased an English newspaper to check out the current war in Cyprus, and also a map of Europe. Then I sat for two cups of coffee at an outdoor cafe, read the paper, and unfolded the map. There must be some place where I could go, some spot where, chances of running into someone from New York were slim.
Tourist towns were out. French Riviera, Paris, Rome, London, Munich, Copenhagen, those places were taboo. I ran my finger along the map, going north. Norway? Who the hell ever went to Norway? A good hideout, possibly, but was there anything up there to keep me interested?
The old days, the times when I was broke and lounging in Greenwich Village, suddenly came back to me with a true hurt. I missed them. Then I did not have a care in the world, surviving from day to day. A few dollars in my pocket and I was a king.
The running had soured life for me. And the women-Jesus, I couldn't take the trouble anymore that followed the brief pleasure they gave. If I had a trade, I wondered. Was it too late to study something, be a mechanic and end out my days some place where I was unknown, fixing cars?
The morning went fast as I wandered about Geneva, crossing the bridge down to the railroad station, looking in all the jewelry stores at watches, watches and more watches, then back over the river to the main part of the city into bookstores, department stores, finally a restaurant for lunch.
Finally I returned to the hotel, figuring I would pack and slip out before anyone saw me. I was about to slip the key into the lock when I heard someone moving about my room. And music was going from loud to low as someone fiddled with the volume.
Gently, I opened the door and saw a woman there. A tall, slender brunette was dancing in time to the music.
With my mouth hanging open I stared at the swaying buttocks. Ungirdled and tempting, they swung. My eyes ran up the long legs with the hard calves, up to the tight-fitting panties outlined beneath the jeans.
"Barbara!"
She spun around, her long, dark hair flying out, a smile on her beautiful face. "Darling Frankie!"
"You...you bitch! What in hell are you doing here?"
"Why shouldn't I be here? I'm your wife. I got into Paris just as you left. Bad timing, eh? Then, this morning I got a call from New York advising me you were here."
"New York? People in New York know I am here?"
Barbara shook her head. "You made some enemies. The Baudons. He phoned my relatives long distance. They in turn contacted me in Paris. My God, Frankie, I suspected you were here."
"How?" This was just a little too damned much.
"I already knew the name of your bank and discovered you were having money sent from Geneva down to Cyprus. I would have gone there but...the war, you know."
"That bastard Baudon."
"I spoke to him a while ago. He persuaded the manager to let me into your room. My, you are living in high style, a far cry from the poor slob I once knew."
"Listen, we are finished, we've been finished so get the hell out of here at once."
"And go where? We're still married, you son of a bitch, and don't forget it."
"Look, if you don't get out on your own then I'll pitch you out bodily."
"Some embarrassing questions are going to be raised by me, so be nice."
She was referring to the money of course. Fuming, I tossed the newspaper, map and things I had bought on the floor and faced her with a hard look in my eyes and my hands deep in my pockets.
"Whatever your plans are stick to them, Barbara. As for me I am bugging out of here. Alone."
The smile was still on her face, the bitch. "I'll bug ilong with you-as your wife!"
I bit my lips, trying to think, and it was then that she threw herself into my arms, wrapping herself around my body, using her legs and strong arms.
Her mouth slid over my eyes, my cheeks and finally blended with mine, bringing desire quickly into play. My ever-working penis hardened and, as her fingers worked the pants zipper, freeing it, it seemed the trouble I wanted to flee was on my shoulders again, weighing heavily.
Barbara talked rapidly, saying she knew I was living off stolen money. Keep me with you, she begged, and I will be faithful, saying nothing to anyone.
"No!"
"Ahh, but yes, yes, Frankie, you have no choice. Now come, let's get into bed." "Shit!"
There was nothing to do. I had an erection and a naked wife on my hands. In bed we were lovers after a long absence. My hands went searching, probing, finding her slender body firm and bursting with health and passion. Under my groping palms the mounds of her ass were taut, the flesh burning. Happy, she pulled me closer, her tongue darting into my mouth. My newfound freedom, my recent happiness-was it all to be thrown away for a piece of ass? No, no, no. But ohhh, God, Barbara was kissing me and stroking, using her hands in a special fluttering way and suddenly there was no road back.
And Barbara was hot! Her eyes were slits, her legs holding me like clamps as the sharp lust of my penis entered, building fire after fire. This slender girl who created so many difficulties for me writhed and moaned in the flame of passion. The fires blended into one mass, increasing in fury until each part of her was finally abandoned.
The spasms of her buttocks were so torturous that I was consumed by desire. I rose and fell swiftly, relinquishing myself completely, throwing all control to the winds. I was feverish, sweltering in her body, my palms testing the symmetry of her buttocks.
It was coming, closer, closer for us both. I cried out as the flames scorched my flesh. Barbara pumped wildly under me as her moment reached the top of its intensity. She shuddered with me through the glory of an orgasm.
Satiated, her lovely eyes glassy, Barbara lay back. "Ahhhh, there!"
I lunged one last time, as if in silent protest, and then I was finished, and sprawling limply atop the slender brunette was still married to. Totally spent, my open-mouthed face was cushioned on her thrusting, spike-pointed breasts.
"Well," she said after a time, "wasn't that a good one?"
"Not...even...one...minute!" "The quicker, the better."
I sat up thinking that I was caught again. Trapped. Well, it only meant that I would have to seek a way out but-until I found it I would continue to enjoy Barbara's body.
I stroked her flanks and tweaked the nipple of each breast. "The next one," I promised, "will take longer than one minute."