When I was a kid, they called me a tomboy. Then when I got a little older, they got very fancy and intellectual and said I had penis envy, the idea being that I was ashamed of only having a little clit instead of a great big cock, and that's why I would do sort of strange things like always dressing up in leather and ass-kicker boots and talking like a drunken sergeant out on a binge. They thought I was trying to compensate for something. And then when I started riding a motorcycle-well, there was no chance that my family or even my oldest friends would be able to handle that-no, they just kept analyzing and labeling and refusing to see what was really going on. They just couldn't get it through their heads that a woman might want to drive a motorcycle for the exact same reasons as a man might want to--to move fast, to attract potential fucks, and to have something shiny and powerful vibrating between their legs.
And that's why I'm writing this book, to explain as straightforwardly as I can my reasons for loving motorcycles, and to tell you about some of the adventures I've had.
First of all, I guess I should explain that motorcycles have always been closely linked with my erotic life. As I mentioned, I was sort of a tomboy when I was a kid, and so of course I was really turned on to those motorcycle "born to be wild" type pictures they made in the fifties. Any time there was going to be a biking movie on TV, I'd be sure to be in front of the set, equipped with a bag of popcorn, some M&M's and a jar of vaseline to help me masturbate.
I really can't explain why, but as soon as I saw those big fast bikes shooting across the screen, I would begin to get excited. It didn't even matter to me who was on the bike-it was just the machinery that turned me on, the metal, the heat, the vibration, the speed.
Now you have to remember that I was only a teenager at the time, and, coming from a very conservative family in the Midwest, I was still a virgin. So for me masturbating was both a very naughty and a very exciting thing to do-I'd been brought up to think that it was wicked to touch myself at all, let alone to linger over my private parts for hours at a time, stroking and feeling the soft skin, matting down the soft sparse hair with huge gooey globs of vaseline. And of course you have to remember that masturbation was my only release.
So I would build up these tremendous reserves of adolescent horniness, just waiting for a chance to sit home alone in front of the TV watching a motorcycle movie. That was the biggest treat of my life.
Then came a night that I will never forget as long as I live: There were two motorcycle movies on back-to-back-four solid hours of excitement! My parents were out for the evening, and so I' had the whole house to myself. Like a naughty child, I began planning out my tactics before my parents even left. I was thinking about the bikes and the pleasure I would treat myself to, and I got myself so worked up that when my mother went to kiss me goodbye, she thought I had a fever and they almost decided to stay home. Oh no, I said, I'm just fine. You two run along and have a nice time.
Anyway, as soon as they were out the door, I started setting up shop. I arranged the pillows on the couch so that I'd be nice and cozy-so that I could boost my hips up nice and high, or casually throw a leg over the side of the sofa if I wanted to get a different angle on myself. Then I got the popcorn and the candy and the trusty old bottle of vaseline, and then I switched on the TV and settled in.
I was wearing a short little skirt that I didn't even bother to remove. I just bunched it up around-my waist and slipped out of the chaste little cotton panties I wore. Then I got myself nice and comfy on top of the pillows, and, letting my legs dangle lazily apart, I watched the beginning of the movie and casually diddled myself.
Now that I think of it, there was an incredible luxury about that whole set-up that makes me horny all over again as I retell it-just picture it, a sweet young virgin body, a pouty mouth that had never even been properly kissed, small solid breasts that had never been touched by mortal hands, small white thighs that had the softness of baby's skin and the firmness of a naughty tomboy's muscles, a blushing little pubic mound that was just beginning to be covered with soft, barely curling honey hair, hair that was so fine and downy, so different from the coarse knotted bush of a mature woman. And the cunt itself was so special-tight, compressed, ignorant of its own workings and structure-to me there's something perversely exciting about realizing that a young girl knows nothing about her own genitals, she doesn't know how they're put together, doesn't know how they work, and yet she feels the urge-the need-to masturbate. She knows absolutely nothing about sex, and yet she needs sex. That's pure animal instinct. It's beautiful and natural and yet somehow unutterably perverse....
Anyway, I was laid out there, watching the movie, playing with my clit with one hand and eating popcorn with the other. On the screen were a bunch of beautiful Harleys and men who talked tough. The bikes moved powerfully through the landscape, and-how can I explain it?-it seemed that they were traveling through my body! I felt as though the awesome power of those machines was finding some secret pathway through me-only later did I learn that the only pathway through me was my cunt, and that all my experience of power and awe and speed would ultimately travel through that wonderful tunnel-and moving me to the very core of my being.
Well, it wasn't long before I was good and excited, and I started working on myself with both hands. My juices were coming thick and heavy-I had felt them before, those viscous, strong-smelling fluids, and of course I had wondered about them, but they felt somehow different tonight. They felt somehow thicker, more rich, more visceral-the juices seemed to be more a direct outpouring of my innards, as if my body were turning itself inside out because of my excitement.
I found myself squirming on the pillows as I watched the movie and worked on myself. At times I would get so engrossed in the film that I would stop realizing that I was masturbating, and then suddenly I would catch myself tugging at my tight little cunt lips with unaccustomed violence-really pulling the skin hard, bringing it just to the point of actually hurting. I would watch the bikes and listen to the engines-the engines provided background music for my masturbation-a perfect sexual sound, a groan, a roar-a kind of jazz music if you think about it. I lay there among the images and the engine purr and the purr of my own young cunt. Looking down, I could see my soft hair glistening with cunt-sap, and if I lifted my ass extra high, I could just barely catch a glimpse of the sweet pink tissue that was being so vigorously worked.
After awhile it occurred to me that a different kind of slipperiness might make my pleasure even more perfect, ,and so I opened up the jar of vaseline and helped myself to a generous dose. The jelly felt delightfully cool on my hot Little box, and a chill wracked my whole body when I first dabbed it on. My clit responded very nicely to this new bit of fun, throbbing and tingling, growing puffy and tender, and as I worked the jelly down over the full length of my crack, I could feel the lips relaxing slightly of their own free will-as if my pussy were a flower that opened by instinct, that somehow knew the exact moment when its petals were mature and ready to unfold.
This slight opening of my cunt lips-and it Was slight, at least compared to the stretching my cunt has undergone since-excited my curiosity and added to my titillation. What secrets were hiding up there? Where did that hole end, where did it lead? Growing bolder as I grew more curious, I began to poke at myself with my fingertips. It hurt, and yet I kept poking. I was so tight that even one narrow fingertip hurt me, made me feel as if I were being split open, as if there were too much there for me ever to take into my own body. But the humming of the engines continued, and the images of the big hot bikes kept racing across the screen, and I, lost in a sort of motor-sexual trance, kept poking at myself and testing my limits, kept exploring that tiny crack that dripped liquid and heat.
By the end of the first movie I was more excited than I had ever been before. The other times I had masturbated, I had reached a certain peak and then relaxed-I've since decided that it had been a sort of proto-orgasm type thing. The peak lasted a little while and then subsided into a warm glow that was very restful and served as a natural ending to the evening's activities. But this was much different-the peak lasted much longer, and rather than subsiding, it kept getting more and more intense! Far from being relaxed, I could feel myself getting more and more wound up, more and more needful. I could tell that my clit and the skin around it was getting irritated and hypersensitive, but I couldn't stop. I could tell that the only way I would be able to relax was to make myself even more excited first.
Well, in the break between movies I was almost out of my mind. Without even thinking about it, I ran into the bathroom and came back with my hairbrush. I really did not have anything consciously in mind-it was just that perverse animal instinct at work. I really did not know why I grabbed the brush or what I would do with it....
I settled back down on the couch as the second movie was beginning. I thought that maybe my little run through the house would calm me down a little, but it did just the opposite. Now I felt the tension throughout my entire body, as if my cunt were radiating outward and taking over my whole body-isn't that what happens when a girl becomes a woman?
I again began grabbing at myself, letting folds of skin and globs of jelly intermingle between my eager fingers. It felt wonderful, but my smooth fingers were now no longer enough. I needed more friction, more stimulation. I reached for the brush, and, holding it by its long slender plastic handle, I began running the bristles gently over my pussy. The vaseline made the brush slide easily, but I still could vividly feel the mischief of the bristles-they clawed at me, scratched at me, nibbled at me. It was like nothing I'd ever felt, and I lay there with my legs spread wider apart, my ass high up on the stacked pillows, my eyes glued to the set, where those magic motorcycles were again racing, vibrating, roaring. I gradually increased the pressure of the brush, bringing the pleasure to the brink of pain, and then naughtily overstepping the brink ever so slightly, bringing myself tingles of satisfaction. I could feel the bristles tracing out the groove between my swollen cunt flaps, and my curiosity returned to that tiny hole that led I knew not where....
I darted down my free hand and felt that strange, unexplored spot. Responding to the action of the brush, the lips were lying wider open, and the hole itself, though still tight and quivering with tension, now seemed able to admit one finger painlessly. I was fantastically turned on by the progress I was making, and by the animal heat that I felt pouring out of me. The hole and its mystery now began to usurp the attention so long bestowed on my clit-it was now the interior of my pussy that I most wanted to play with. But how?
All at once, without any participation of my conscious mind, a filthy and irresistible thought occurred to me: I could explore my insides with the handle of my brush!
The idea was unbelievable, but totally irresistible. To this day, I do not know how I thought of it. I was a virgin, and before I had ever even seen a cock, I was out to fuck myself with a self-styled dildo! It was the animal instinct that always seems to be running my life....
Frantically, I turned the brush over in my hand, so that I was now holding on to the bristles, pointing the plastic shaft down at my cunt. I probed very tentatively at "first, pushing a little and then recoiling as the cool unyielding plastic began to push itself between my un-stretched lips, hurting them and making them hungry to be stretched further. And always, as I played, I watched the motorcycles, saw them sway sexily on curves, saw them drive ahead aggressively on the straight-aways....
I began to press more decisively. I squeezed the brush so hard that the bristles hurt my palm, and I pushed it with increasing force against the aching numbness of my twat. It seemed as if it couldn't possibly get in, and the more certain I was that it was impossible, the more determined I was to get it in. I knew it would hurt, and I knew it was a dirty and unnatural thing to do, and I knew I would end up doing it...
How can I describe the sensation of my cunt letting go, of finally giving up the struggle to keep out the unnatural intruder? I felt as if the bones that shaped my pelvis had instantly changed shape-not without pain, but also not without an immense feeling of relief. Yes, the tip of the brush handle was now inside me, and though my cunt continued to throb spasmodically because of the pressure, I knew I had achieved the initial victory.
But now that the handle was inside me, the urge to explore the depths returned with renewed force. I would not let myself alone until I had found out everything there was to know about that mysterious place I had so long ignored. I wanted everything at once.
My ignorance about my body was so total that I didn't even know what a hymen was, and so I had no idea why I felt a sudden sharp pain as I worked the brush deeper into myself. I pushed straight in, and it felt exquisite until it seemed to run into some sort of wall....
The animal instinct soon had me fucking myself slowly and rhythmically, working the brush handle in only until the pain grew sharp, and then withdrawing it again to the outer verge of my pussy, then repeating the motion in gentle but insistent oscillations. I found myself rolling my hips lasciviously, the sound of motorcycle engines in my ears now mingling with the purr of my own moans....
I packed up the pace of my self-fucking. Rolling my hips wildly, lifting my ass high above its already steep mound of pillows, I fucked myself faster and a little bit harder, growing more and more excited, but still enough in control to retreat from the hurt at the end of the road.
But the animal instinct told me to go beyond , that hurt, to press it to its maximum and then to press clear past it into a sort of ecstasy I had never before known. And so, with a cruelty and a lust aimed exclusively at myself, exclusively at my own young horniness, I brought the brush down into myself harder and harder, till finally I felt a horrible sharp pain, till I felt the wall tearing, opening up the full extent of the cavern, and then, fucking my way through the pain I continued to drive the brush downward, the bristles stinging my hand, the handle bruising my insides. I continued until I felt the swelling of my first orgasm, a swelling that made my previous peaks seem like the merest ripples. ... It came and wracked me, made me jerk my hips spastically, covered my entire with goose-bumps, made my stomach jump and my breasts quiver, and made my cunt feel that it had been initiated into the strangest and most wonderful ritual on earth....
Later, I tried to wash the blood from the pillows. The blood smelled like iron-like the iron that makes the steel that makes motorcycles....
CHAPTER TWO
So you see, motorcycles have always held a central place in my sex life, right from the very beginning, and so it should come as no surprise to hear that my first real boyfriend was a biker.
I guess I should explain that he was no Hell's Angel type or anything like that. As a matter of fact, he was just a very sweet, unaggressive guy who just happened to love motorcycles. In all other respects he seemed to be a total prude, to tell the truth. His family was even more conservative than mine, and, except for his having a motorcycle in the first place, he showed ho signs of rebelling against them. So when I started going out with him, it was purely because I thought he was a nice guy-and of course because I wanted a ride on his bike, I never expected any other kinds of excitement from him-and to tell the truth I didn't know if I could've handled anything heavy anyway. I mean I had felt very sexy and curious after my hairbrush-defloration, but it seemed worlds away from actually having sex with someone.
Anyway, he asked me out and I said Sure. Why not?-which is pretty much my feeling about everything-and when Saturday night came around, he picked me up to take me for a ride.
Now you have to realize what a thrill it was for me even to climb onto the bike. I mean, given my feelings about motorcycles in general, try to imagine how I felt when I finally got to swing my leg over one, when I felt the warm leather of the seat against my bottom, and the girth of the frame between my legs. I must've shocked poor Jim (that was his name) by hugging him so hard when he climbed on-really squeezing my breasts against his broad back, but I was just so happy that I couldn't help it.
When he started up the engine, the noise and the vibration penetrated my whole body, and I really felt like I was merged with the bike, like there was some magic sex connection between the bike's strength and power and some untapped and wild energy that I had within myself. Even before we started moving, I could feel my pussy start to get wet-just from that first roar of combustion, and from the subtle but thorough rumble that climbed up my legs and lingered between them before carving its sensuous vibration on up through my belly.
Well, we took off through the early evening air, and the motion of the bike and the wind in my hair made the sensation even more exquisite. The sun was going down in the fields alongside us, and the last red rays cast every thing in a gently sexy glow, and the roar of the engine changed to a lascivious purr as the sound spread out through the open space.
I hugged Jim tighter, without even thinking of it, just holding on to his strong, mute, and apparently oblivious body, communicating to him some of the joy I was feeling. And at the same time as I hugged him, I swiveled my hips forward so as to get my pussy down onto the seat as firmly as I could, so that I could pick up the strongest vibrations coming up through the bike. I got wetter and wetter as we sped through the mild night, and I began to worry that I might soak through my favorite pair of faded old jeans.
* * *
That first night Jim and I did nothing but ride. I realize in retrospect that those hugs I was giving him were a definite come-on-sure I was communicating my joy to him, but I was also communicating to him the fact that my joy was sexual, the fact that the bike turned me on, and that a nice outdoor fuck would be the perfect complement to the evening's activities. To me, there "was something perverse and special about hugging him that way-from the back, with him facing away from me, maybe not even caring, just sitting there so I could feel his tight young body with my hands and press my breasts against his broad tense back. I was being the aggressive one, and that excited me.
But Jim was very shy-he didn't even try to kiss me goodnight-and I realized that I would have to be the aggressor in much more direct ways if I wanted to make the transition from riding to writhing. The funny part is that I'm not even sure, that I found him attractive-I mean he was strong and handsome enough, but those things were secondary-the main thing was that he was the owner and the operator of the motorcycle, he was the one who had power over the machine that had such a mysterious power over me. That's a highly perverse notion, now that I think back on it... very mechanical and perverse....
Anyway, when I got home after that first ride, I settled down into the bathtub for a nice bout of masturbation, during which I began to make my plans about seducing Jim. I lay there in the hot soapy water, dreamily fingering myself, absently watching the hair of my thickening bush curl and float in the water, trying to figure out how one goes about seducing a man. My naivet� was amazing, and yet my animal instincts steered me right every time. My intuition told me just what do to, just where to touch him as we were speeding along, just exactly how to wrap my hands around his hips and rub his groin while he drove ... I pictured his stomach tense with the concentration of driving, my hands running firmly over the layers of muscle, and then diving down into his pants, past the resistance of his belt, into the heat and sweat of his underwear, down through his matted hair till my fingers found his startled and already stirring cock ... and all of this happening as the bike sped along, with the red sun glowing, and the night air licking at my thighs and nipples.
* * *
I got myself so excited with my plans that I ended up giving myself a good solid frigging right there in the tub, working my gradually loosening hole with one finger, then venturing two, holding the lips open with my free hand, letting the hot water slosh lusciously against the exposed tissue of my inner walls, letting my clit relish the sting of the hot water. I held myself open as wide as I could, drawing the water deeply into my vaginal cavity, and then expelling it with a forced contraction of all my muscles, and then I lay back, both amused and excited about the strange things that my sex parts could do. I played, I pulled, I stroked, I admired the viscosity of my juices which stayed rich and slippery even submerged in the hot water. I fingered myself and thought of motorcycles, I tortured my clit and I pictured Jim. I wondered about the connection between cock and cycles-did the fact that I loved cycles so much mean that I would love cock equally? Or even more? Was a cock like a motorcycle, did it have the same kind of drive and power and mechanical cruelty? I wondered, and I hoped it did, and I rubbed myself harder and harder as the horny questions filled my head faster and faster, and somehow I found myself with three fingers inside myself, stretching and tormenting and creating a delicious fullness, a fullness to bursting, bursting between the legs and in the mind, bursting with the feel of three fingers inside my young overstretched pussy. bursting with the waves of filthy thoughts that flooded my brain and kept my cunt hungry, that occurred to me in rhythmic cruel succession, images of motorcycle-cocks, of driving and being driven, vibration, power, speed, and three fingers holding my red cunt sore and open.... I grit my teeth and finally relaxed in the warm water....
The next time Jim came to get me, I had my plan of action well mapped out. First of all, I wore a skirt instead of jeans. That was partially to allow me to feel the breeze along my legs and between them. I also intended to give Jim a nice view when I flung my leg over the bike, just to whet his appetite. Accordingly, I didn't wear any panties.
Well, he looked sort of pleasantly surprised to see me standing there in a short skirt, and I thought I saw him swallow hard, when I swung my leg good and high over the seat. I'll never know for sure whether he actually caught a glimpse of my snatch-or if he believed his eyes if he did-but it seemed like he was getting the message.
We took off through the night, and the air felt wonderful all around us. It was cool and warm at the same time, and we cut through it with plenty of power. The air was warmest coming right up off the road and the engine, and that was the air-moist and heavy-that blew up my legs and tickled my cunt. I was soaked almost immediately, as much from anticipation as from the actual feeling. Now I only had to enjoy the ride and wait for the right moment to put my plans into effect....
We rolled out of town toward the open road where there was nothing except wide miles of fields with a farmhouse here and there. The houses were so far apart and the crops were so lush and thick that I knew we'd be assured of perfect privacy. I knew we'd be able to pull off the side of the road and get right down to a nitty-gritty cornfield fuck-but still I had to gather my nerve to make the first move.
Finally my anticipation and the need between my legs, conquered the last traces of my restraint, and I started working my hands down the sides of Jim's body toward his crotch. I wanted to be subtle about it, I wanted him to know what I was headed for, but to know I was going to take my time about it. My hands traced out his waist and, hips, and then began their slow descent along his lower belly. Even through the thick, coarse material of his dungarees I could feel a sudden quiver of eager cock when I finally let my fingers dance over his genital bulge. But I quickly retreated again, teasing him along....
He sped the bike up, as if trying to urge me on with more speed; the wind whistled past us, and the vibrations increased....
My hand returned to his groin, and this time lingered there. I had never before felt a prick, you understand, and so it was with great fascination that I traced out the thick cylinder that was now fairly bursting out of his jeans. Its bulk seemed outrageous in my hand-it felt as unyielding as the brush-handle I had deflowered myself with, but much thicker. And I knew that once it started to fuck me, I wouldn't be able to control the violence of the thrusts-no, the cock itself would determine the pace, and it might drive with all the force and insistence of a motorcycle, pausing for nothing despite my cries of pain, despite my pleading....
I grew more and more excited as the possibilities of this thick piece of meat got clearer in my mind. I pictured the tightness of my hole, and I measured it in my mind against the girth of Jim's pulsing rod, and I knew I was in for an ordeal-an ordeal that I was desperately eager for.
Trying to get closer and to that piece of flesh that was now absorbing all my attention, I f. reached up and blindly opened his belt and the top snap of his jeans, thrusting my hand down his pants with a rough plunge. I half hoped that his cock would feel less huge, less menacing, without the protective layer of cloth over it-but in fact it was just the opposite-bare in my groping hand, the prick felt even bigger, hot and straining at its skin, as if' the inner workings of his sweet tool wanted to get at me directly. I worked him vigorously now as the bike sped on, squeezing the shaft, scratching at the head, reaching down to massage the heavy balls-just doing anything that my animal instinct told me to do. And all this toying got me so soaked that I could tell I was leaving a puddle of honey on the seat of the rumbling bike....
Then, without warning, Jim swerved sharply off the road into one of the fields, bumping and sliding in the soft plowed earth, scaring me half out of my wits, and exciting me still more. The bike bounced and Swayed, and all my organs bounced and swayed with it, my juices boiling and gurgling like heated oil....
When we finally came to a stop, Jim leaped off the machine and made a violent grab for me. His shyness was instantly transformed into a kind of total mastery, and I knew that he would be in total control from here on in. I felt a moment of fear as I realized that he could do anything he wanted with me-anything in the world. But this fear soon merged with my horniness, soon began to enhance my horniness by reminding me how thoroughly I could be used....
He forced me down onto my knees in the moist earth, and he stood there above me, grinning down, very casually undoing his pants. Then, without even taking them down, he just stuck his fat prick in my face, and, grabbing me by the back of my neck, he pushed my mouth down over it. I was amazed at the size of it-it filled my mouth from cheek to cheek, and though I had only half of it in my mouth, I felt as if I would gag on the hot thickness of it. But I savored the salty taste of his prick skin, and it was a delicious sensation to feel the head of his cock swell and puff in my mouth. I ran my tongue along the underside of the shaft, I nibbled at the tender head. I caressed the balls as I sucked the cock. I tasted the sweet drops of pre-fuck that dribbled from his slit as the pressure increased. I loved everything about it, and I loved the fact that he was forcing me to do it, directing me.
After a few minutes of sucking, he suddenly grabbed my hair and forced my mouth away, and he swayed his hips from side to side, slapping me on either cheek with the full length of his cock as he swayed. The slaps didn't hurt, and yet there was something exquisitely humiliating about being slapped in the face with a stiff cock. He told me to keep my eyes open and look up at him, and as our eyes met I saw a wicked and filthy grin on his face-he winced with delight each time his swollen member made contact with my reddening face....
Meanwhile I felt the juices running down my legs onto the fertile ground. My pussy twitched with heat and longing, and each time his cock crashed up against my face, I felt a new spurt of honey ooze forth between my saturated lips. I wanted desperately to get that thick prick up my hole, but I didn't dare ask for it yet....
Finally, seeing that I was almost hysterical with horniness, he consented to give it to me, but only if I would take it his way. "Yes, yes," I said, "I'll take it any way you like. Just give me some of your big long cock. Just ram some of it up my pussy." I was shocked to hear myself talking like that, and it excited me even more to realize I was so totally out of control.
He picked me up off my knees and led me by the wrist to where the motorcycle was parked. He looked me straight in the eyes and ordered me to bend over with my face laid across the seat. I didn't dare refuse. His eyes frightened me. So I bent over with my face on the still-warm seat of the motorcycle. The heat was still flowing off the engine, making me almost dizzy. I lay there bent over, waiting....
He lifted my skirt up above my waist and tucked it under my belt so it would stay out of the way. Then he took a few steps backward and stood there surveying my ass and dripping cunt in the moonlight. I could feel his eyes on me and it made me feel filthy and wonderful. I felt as if his eyes were fucking me, as if his glance was pumping itself into my cunt....
Then he approached and let the tip of his cock dangle against my slippery crack. I felt the heat of his cock through my whole body. He teased me with it, probed ever so lightly along the outer reaches of my pussy, making me rotate my hips automatically, mechanically, making me work my cunt over his teasing member. I wanted it so bad, and yet, feeling the puffy knob against my crack, I couldn't imagine how it would fit, I couldn't imagine that it would stretch me far enough to lay in me full-blown.
And then he rammed it. He rammed it so hard that it was several seconds before I could even scream-and when the sound finally escaped it was a blend of hurt and ecstasy, as the memory of the pain was already fading into the reality of the pleasure, of the good sensation of ample prick, of the wonderful feeling of being stretched a bit too far, fucked a little bit too deep, royally dicked so that every crevice gets its share of the good hot cock. ... I could feel my juices spurting now, pouring hot thick honey down over that shaft, keeping the works oiled.
He pounded me rhythmically, mechanically, and yet with a kind of music, a kind of dizzy -fucking music, trance music. I hugged the seat of the motorcycle, I rubbed my face harder against the warm leather, and I felt that big prick coming into me again and again. I could feel the head pushing past my pelvic bones, driving up through the soft canal, and continuing up toward the knob of my womb-running out of space, coming to the end of my cunt, and still driving on, making my whole body change shape to take it. His hard stomach slapped against my buttocks at the end of his thrust, and I could tell that his whole body was driving his prick-his whole body was-transformed into prick fucking me, ramming me....
I was peaking now, peaking past the point of even the brush fuck, peaking long and higher and higher, still feeling the cock rhythmically ramming, pounding, losing all ideas of space and time, growing dizzy, unaware, so that it was no longer even a prick fucking me-no, it was just a shaft, a piston, a piece of meat, a piece of machinery, I didn't know or care-it was meat, hot cylindrical meat fucking me, making me peak, higher and higher, making me come----
I fell over onto the cool ground and slept awhile, and when I woke he was prodding me with it again....
CHAPTER THREE
Needless to say, I was tremendously intrigued by the contrast between Jim's seeming shyness and his utterly masterful way with sex. In the weeks that followed, in addition to getting almost nightly bouts of excellent fucking, I found out the key to his mystery.
It seemed that in contrast to the image of the shy conservative country boy that he gave off, he was quite well-known in the larger towns in the area as a tough talking tough fucking biker. Although he was on his best behavior in our small town as a means of maintaining his parents' reputation and of not bringing their wrath down upon himself, as soon as he got out to any of the bigger towns where his anonymity was assured, Jim was known far and wide for going off on binges of drinking and drugs and taking on a number of women in the course of a night-sometimes as many as a dozen in the course of a weekend. He never seemed to have much money to spend but he was such a favorite among the prostitutes among the towns around that he never had to pay for it. For Jim, his cock and his mind provided the price of admission. I didn't learn all this all at once because Jim, regarding me as just another silly young girl, was afraid of shocking me. Little did he know that I myself was totally out for adventure-adventure of the raunchiest sort that I could find-and far from being shocked by the details of his mischievous life, I only became more intrigued and more attracted to him. Learning his mysteries, and finding out that he himself was really one big container of raunchy adventure, made me feel more abandoned, made me feel even more eager to learn all about sex and anything else as fast as I could. This feeling of mine communicated itself although I never quite had the nerve to say it to him in as many words, because the pace and the experimentation and the mental aspects of fucking kept growing; more and more intense almost from night to night.
The general pattern of our evenings was something like this: Jim would pick me up around dusk and we would climb on his motorcycle and ride for a while. I always kept up a very prim appearance for my family and they just assumed that I was going riding with that nice guy from down the street. They never suspected that we were engaged in an adolescent odyssey of sensuality; they never would have guessed that in the first few short weeks of our acquaintance we covered more horny ground than many people experience in a lifetime.
We would ride out of town, out toward the fields, and, both of us getting excited by the motion of the ride, we would push on down the highway. Sometimes we would ride for as long as an hour or almost two hours before stopping. We were both eager as hell to fuck but we wanted to extend the expectation, we wanted to tease each other along by staying on the bike. As always, Jim was totally in control; it was up to him whether to stop or whether to keep me waiting, and from force of habit he would know that I would be soaking wet sitting on the back, my hot pussy already thinking ahead to the evening's adventures, wondering what would happen and looking forward to anything that Jim might think of to do to me.
When he was finally good and ready, Jim would pull off to the side of the road into one of the many fields or off into a little wooded patch that dotted the landscape here and there and get down to it. The main thing I want to get across about these evenings is how fully Jim was in control of me. Although only a couple of years older than myself, he had managed through his energy and originality of character to go through a lifetime's worth of fucking, a lifetime's worth of experimentation. He used me however he wanted, sensing that I was ready to be used, sensing that that's what I most wanted.
In the course of these first several weeks, he taught me more positions than I had ever imagined existed. He had a hundred different ways of moving my legs: sometimes he would pin them down with his shoulders, stretching them way back and narrowing the slit of my cunt so that the pressure of his cock was even more delicious; other times he would force my legs open wide and I would feel my hole dilate and take him in more easily, but in that case it went in still deeper and the pressure at the mouth of my womb increased with a wonderful sort of pain. He held me crawling around on my knees while he prodded me from the back; he even stood behind me and held my thighs in the air, teasing me with his cock while I walked on my hands. He was out to teach me as much as he could in as short a time as he could and he could not have found a more willing pupil.
In addition to these various modes of cunt fucking, Jim introduced me to more and more of the subtleties of giving head. Although on that first night I had done as good and as instinctive job on his cock as I could, he soon made me realize that there was a lot more to learn. In those few weeks I became very adept at tongue play, I learned how to use my teeth, developed a feel for when to bite down and just when to let it slide on the soft inside of my cheeks. I learned the wonderful feelings that a man could be given by gently playing with his balls, and I even overcame my initial repugnance to the notion of putting my fingers up Jim's ass when he came.
So you can see my sex life was off to a felicitous and precocious start, and as it had been from the very beginning, it was still intimately linked with motorcycles. From the second that I would climb onto the bike-just in short skirt without panties, as always-and I would feel the roar and the vibrations of the engine under me, I would feel the same mysterious link between the power of the engine and the power of my own sexuality as I had felt in my undeveloped state since even before puberty. The sound, the power, the roar, the speed-these were the sort of feelings that linked motorcycles to fucking and it seems that I never get enough of either of them.
Of all the new delights that I was introduced to during those first few weeks of our relationship, there was one in particular that sticks in my mind and which I want to tell you about. The reason I remember this one in particular is that in my naivet� I had never even thought of it as a possibility. It seemed something too unnatural, too impossible, too filthy even to imagine. In all my pre-puberty masturbation, all the times I had diddled my cunt, even in the short amount of time since I had begun to be fucked, I never imagined that I had another hole that could give me pleasure, and which could be desired by a man. Even when I had come to regard the thirsting pressure in my pussy as the most wonderful sensation in the world, I never realized that a similar pressure in my anus could be as much, in a perverse way, even more, of a delight.
But one night Jim showed me just how much I'd been missing. We were riding along as usual, only Jim seemed even more cool and detached and perfectly in control than usual. He had a way about him of seeming so removed, so calm, that even in the utmost heights of passion he seemed to be perfectly in control of his body and his thoughts. He seemed to be able to control his cock so perfectly and all his motions were so well choreographed that it was easy just to give oneself up to him and to experience all sorts of ecstasy under him. We drove along very far out of town. He was giving me time to get worked up so that I'd be good and ready to fuck by the time we finally stopped. At length he pulled off the road 'into a copse of broad-leafed trees, and stopped the bike. I swung my leg off and immediately rushed up to hug him as I always did. The energy that had built up during the ride required some immediate relief, and I had gotten into the habit of just throwing myself against Jim's hard body, squeezing his neck and shoulders and pressing my hips against his as hard as I could. Of course this hug was only an infinitely small prelude to the fucking which followed but in its own small way I had come to depend on it.
But on this particular evening, Jim roughly pushed me away when I went to hug him. I didn't understand his .purpose at first, and I was rather frightened and angry, but then I realized that he just did not want me to dilute any of my sexual drives in any sort of harmless playing around. He wanted me to save it all for the fucking, so that I would have every resource of my horny body to give up to him.
I stood there a few feet away and meekly looked up at him. not knowing what he intended to do. He stared back at me with a kind of lascivious smirk on his face, and told me to strip. He told me in a very soft voice but it was an absolute command none the less. So I took off my short skirt and opened my blouse without taking my eyes off him. He just stared at me the whole time, making me more aware of my nakedness than I had ever been before. Shamelessly his eyes roamed up and down my body; he looked at me so intensely that his eyes seemed to caress me, it seemed that I could feel the pressure of his glance over my nipples. They became stiff just from his gaze without even being touched. Then he looked lower, down at my cunt hair, and I could feel a new surge of juices. He was fucking me with his eyes, taking in every detail of my body, and I felt as if I was being worked over by a pair of gentle but insistent hands.
He walked over to me and dropped down to his knees. This gesture was such a shocking contrast to his pushing me away roughly that I gasped for breath. But there was something so masterful about Jim that even on his knees he seemed fully in control. He reached behind me and took my buttocks in his hands and gently pulled my bush into his face. He started kissing my cunt, at first just using his lips on the soft hair of my mound, but he soon brought his tongue and teeth into play, nibbling at my clit and opening the groove between my labia. As he worked me more vigorously with his mouth, I felt my knees get weak and I could feel myself start to sway, but he held me there still and steady by the force of his strong hands on my ass.
I don't know how long he stayed there on his knees eating me. It was such a delightful sensation that I had no sense of time. I could feel my juices flowing down onto his tongue, making it even more slippery so that when again in turn it lapped against me, it felt like a wonderful muscular slippery finger. As he nibbled my clit I could feel it puff and swell, throbbing with the rhythm of his nibbling, and his teeth felt marvelously hard and somehow cool against the hot flesh of my pussy. My" juices were coming faster and faster and as I reached down to caress his face, I could feel that my honey was dripping down his chin. Feeling this, I grew even more excited-there was a filthy pleasure in seeing how fully my juices were flowing and how greedily he lapped them up like an animal.
I held him by the back of the head and worked my fingers through his thick curly hair. I pulled his face into me, I wanted more of the pressure of his tongue on my cunt. I didn't just "want to be eaten, I wanted him to fuck me with his mouth, to make me feel the pressure and the insistence of his tongue as if it were some sort of darting slippery penis.
But in his wonderful teasing way Jim withdrew his mouth before I had time to tire of this particular diversion, and standing up, he circled around in back of me and hugged me from behind. As he did this, I could feel his stiff cock lying in my gluteal fold and when he pressed against me, the heat of it sent a chill up my whole body. Gently but insistently he forced me down on my hands and knees, staying close behind me the whole time, letting his cock dangle against the soggy swamp of my cunt. When he had me on my hands and knees, he grabbed me by the thighs and started the long hard push into my pussy. I was so wet that I took him in with relative ease, even though his cock was stiffer and somehow thicker than it had ever felt before. This increase in his girth excited me terrifically, and I couldn't help but think that he had something filthy on his mind that excited him so. I couldn't imagine what it was-his experience so totally outraced my imagination that I never knew what he would spring on me next.
He worked me very steadily in and out, controlled as always, he let his hips slowly but thoroughly rub against my ass and the backs of my thighs, bringing his stiff swelling cock into me again and again. The rhythm was measured and steady, I let my head hang down, giving in to the swaying motion, and felt the walls of my cunt yield before the pressure of his advancing prick. Over and over, with a sort of gentle but manic insistence, he swayed into me, and his cock seemed to get stiffer and longer with each thrust. The head of it was fanned out, and as it reached up into the narrow part of my cunt--the last part of my cunt before it flowed into my womb--it pushed me wide apart, with a pressure delightfully different from the pressure in the outer part of my cunt-it was more visceral, more convincingly a part of my gut, my inner workings.
After awhile Jim withdrew his steaming cock from my pussy. This didn't surprise me-it was one of his oldest tricks to work me up to a certain pitch of excitement and then to just stop to rest, to reflect, to renew his energy and his tremendous discipline. He knew that I would kneel there, my cunt seething, my whole posture and the very rhythm of my breathing begging him for more. He was such a wonderful tease....
But when he came at me again, I was in for a surprise. Rather than laying his prick inside my cunt, where I expected it, where I craved, he let it rest against the small tight button of my anus. At first, it occurred to me that Jim had just missed the mark-although it was certainly unlike him to ever be off target in the manner of fucking-but I was so totally naive about the possibilities of having anal sex that I couldn't imagine it happening, even while it was on the very verge. The hot and thoroughly lubricated knob of his head lay up against my sphincter, and only gradually did I allow myself to become aware of just how pleasurable it was-without his even pushing I sensed the wonderful pressure, and the sheer heat vitality of his prick against my asshole sent shivers up my back. But never, even at the moment when the pleasure was beginning to overtake me, did I imagine that he could work that big thing up me, up into my ass. Even more so than the brush handle had seemed on that first night that I opened my own cunt, it seemed impossible.
Very gently, but with his usual insistence, Jim increased the pressure of his prick against my anus. The pleasure increased, but the pain also started, and I tore up clumps of grass with my hand clawing at the ground, and as the pressure increased still more, I buried my face in the grass and sobbed. Whether they were sobs of pain or pleasure, I'm not sure-both sensations were totally mixed in my mind.
I could feel my sphincter beginning to open up, and a thrill of filthy invigoration overtook me. I had never even imagined the possibility of being fucked up the ass, and here it was happening to me. I felt my sphincter begin to open up and found the pain which had greeted the first pressure of cock against asshole now became more of a sharp tearing sensation. But at the same time the pleasure-the pressure of his wonderful cock now no longer only against the outside of my ass-was gradually encroaching within. He was entering my body in a totally new and totally perverse way, and the mental image of the process was a tremendous part of the excitement. I felt that I was becoming aware of totally new possibilities of fucking, of ideas and possibilities that had never even crossed my mind in my wildest fantasies. I lay there, my ass high up in the air, my forehead digging into the cool moist earth to ease the pain, and I let the image play in my mind. I visualized Jim kneeling high over me working his big cock into my asshole, and I imagined the look of total mastery, the smirk that must be on his face. He was having his way with me, as always he was doing exactly as he liked with me, and I loved him for it.
Letting himself go a bit more now he worked the head of his cock into my ass. All at once, the widest part of his bell-shaped head was in me and I felt a terrible tearing, a pain even more intense than when I had deflowered myself. Instinctively, I crawled away from him, I felt every muscle in my body contract as I recoiled from the pain. But Jim, with animal quickness, followed my every motion and refused to withdraw the member that was making me ache so. I had no choice but gradually to force my muscles to relax, to fight against the pain that was now making my bowels feel as if they were on fire, and to relax into the pleasure of having my ass fucked. And sure enough, the pain very soon did turn to a particularly exquisite and perverse form of pleasure. The dull ache never ceased but now the sharp part of the pain was gone and in its place was a wonderful new feeling of fullness, a feeling of completion and of a marvelous pressure that I seemed to feel all the way up into my stomach.
Now that the initial shock was over I could again, with some degree of calm and control, climb up onto my hands and knees and holding my ass perfectly still savor the now rhythmic thrusting of his cock in my bowels. Holding me by the hips, he worked in and out very slowly, letting me feel every inch of his wonderful cock as he moved it. Teasing me, he worked the head back and forth over my sphincter, making me feel the ridge as it rolled over me again and again. Then, to titillate me still more he reached his hands around and began rubbing my soaked pussy. Although I had been too distracted to pay much attention, my cunt, acting with a will of its own, had grown even wetter during the initial phase of ass fucking and he now rubbed the frothy juices all over me, on my belly and on the insides of my thighs. I was amazed at the lushness of my juices, and the pressure of his hand over my distended cunt lips now added to the excitement I was feeling up my ass.
Jim now began the long, flowing, rhythmic swaying of his hips that I knew would bring him to orgasm-but how long he would take to get there, I never knew. Jim was the sort of guy who could get into a rhythm, a rhythm so sensuous, that it seemed that his coming was very imminent and he could maintain that seemingly for hours. I don't know how he did it, he was in such total control of his whole body and especially of his thick and swollen cock, that he could use it-however he pleased, on whomever he pleased. But now it was up my ass, and that's all I cared about. He worked it again and again, letting me feel the entire length of it, and I could sense it growing even longer from the pressure of my tight asshole. He said filthy things to me while he fucked me-he told me that I had a tight little asshole, that it was tighter even than my young cunt but that he would fuck it until it was open and loose, until it was as loose as the cunt of a fucked-out whore. Hearing this filthy talk made me even more horny, and I now began rhythmically rolling against him, adding my own sway to the onslaught of his probing cock.
Apparently his horny talk excited us both, because I felt his cock grow even longer, felt it stretch inside me; the head of it reached the end of my rectum, and rubbed cruelly against the turn in the road of my guts. I felt him straining against the wall, felt the pressure probing, and I wrapped myself against him harder and harder, half out of my mind with the lascivious joy of it. The idea of it still thrilled me-I could barely believe I was getting fucked up the ass, but I was getting fucked so thoroughly that I could feel my very guts vibrating with the force of it. He drove into me again and again, deeper and deeper, grinding against the turns in the road of my intestines, and somehow, my ass began turning out juices of its own, slippery lubricating juices that it produced like a cunt to all this fucking.
And now Jim further increased the pace of his fucking, fanning out the head of his cock so that it did the greatest amount of rubbing against my insides, and although I couldn't imagine how or why it happened, I felt myself starting to come! Without having my cunt in the act at all now, I felt myself mounting to a tremendous and violent orgasm. The idea of it was as exciting as the sensations itself-I was coming from having my ass fucked, my cunt was responding to cock up my ass, my whole being was vibrating around the cock up my ass. He banged me harder and harder, increased the pressure in my belly until I thought I would faint from the strain, and the orgasm continued to mount. And then finally I felt his own juices flowing deep into my ass, and that made me lose all control. The idea of him coming in my ass, so deep in my ass, made my whole body quiver as if in convulsions, and I ground my hips back against him as hard as I could. Like wrestlers we pressed against each other with all our strength, and as I savored the last of his hot juices pouring into my distended and fucked-out ass, my cunt dropped and spurted its hot load of honey onto the warm ground between us, and we fell back against each other, exhausted.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the next couple of months Jim and I got to be very close and in addition to having loads of exquisite fucking we found ourselves really digging each other in every way. I no longer had the feeling that I had in the beginning that Jim regarded me as just another little high-school cunt he could use and then abandon-I still had the feeling that he was using me, but we really dug each other at the same time. And I'd learned that there's no contradiction in that it's possible for people to really care for each other, and yet still use each other and seem as cold on the surface as could be. So even though Jim continued to look at me with his icy eyes and that cool smirk of his, I could sense that we were growing together in lots of ways.
But I was developing into the kind of woman who no matter how comfortable the situation she was in would never be content to ride on the back of someone else's motorcycle. I'm the sort of woman who wants her own wheel, who wants to control her own direction and her own speed, and it was only a matter of time until my thoughts turned towards getting a bike of my own. I knew in advance that there was no one in my family who would stand for my getting a bike, and so, as soon as school was over, I made as graceful an exit as I could-which wasn't very grateful, there were some tremendous scenes around the old household-and I went to the city. I had told my parents that I was going to be looking for some sort of secretarial job, but in reality I had decided to do some hooking in order to raise enough money for a bike in the shortest amount of time.
I had spoken to Jim about my plans before putting them into effect, and he felt very favorably about it. He told me that he wasn't eager to see me leave town, as it would mean we would see much less of each other, but he said that a good bit of whoring makes a woman more well-rounded, puts her more in touch with some of the sleazier, potentially sexier elements in her character. So if not with my parents' blessings, at least I set out on my career with the blessings of the man I really dug.
So I packed a bag and Jim drove me up to Joplin which was the nearest town of any size. As soon as I got there I started looking for an apartment and it wasn't long before I found one. It wasn't much, it was in a sort of ramshackle old building, but it was just at the edge of the really honky-tonk part of town, and I knew it would suit my purposes perfectly. The landlord looked me over very suspiciously before he rented me the place, but Jim had loaned me enough money for a couple of months' rent and when that old fart saw cash on the line he no longer cared whether I was going to use the place for so-called immoral purposes or not.
Jim spent the first couple of nights, helping me get used to the change in atmosphere. We had some excellent fucking during those few nights because as I gradually realized Jim was really turned on by the idea of having me be a prostitute. In keeping with his preference for keeping in control, he especially liked the idea of having someone buy the right to be in control. He himself, because of his wonderful personality and wonderfully obedient cock, never had to pay for it in his life, but the idea still turned him on in a very perverse way.
In addition to helping me. settle into my apartment, Jim came out with me to shop for my wardrobe. Back down in the country, I'd always dressed in very simple clothes-jeans mostly with a frilly shirt here and there, but certainly nothing that would attract tricks on the street. So when it came to shopping for new clothes, I had one thing and one thing only in mind, leather. Now, being naive as I was, I didn't even know that leather had other implications. I thought it just meant motorcycles. But Jim, being much more sophisticated than I, told me a little bit about the implications of leather in S & M, and though I was greatly intrigued by the notion, I felt I better go easy on the leather. Sort of ease my way into sadism or masochism or whatever else came along. Knowing about the kind of people that hang around the honkytonks in Joplin, I had no doubt that I'd be discovering a lot of things about it soon enough. Well, after I was pretty comfortably settled Jim decided to head back down and leave me on my own. So the first night when I was on my own, my very first night of whoring, I walked out onto the street, and my knees were shaking not so much from fear or embarrassment but just from the sheer invigoration of the thing. I loved the idea.
So I stood there half in the dim light of a street lamp leaning against a wall trying to look provocative. Actually I felt sort of giddy and it was hard for me to keep from laughing-I wasn't even twenty yet and I felt so ballsy about the whole thing I just wanted to laugh. I was very proud of myself.
I guess every hooker remembers her first trick, and I certainly remember mine because it was one of the strangest encounters of my life either before or since. I was standing there leaning against the wall giving the eye to everyone who walked by and even sort of blowing kisses at the ones I found more attractive, and then up walks this figure in a kind of a faggy trench coat with a hat drawn down low over his face. Now it was summer, and still quite warm and seeing a person in a trench coat struck me as very strange to begin 'with. As a matter of fact the figure looked so bizarre that I didn't even look at it, blow it a kiss or anything, but it just came up without hesitating for a second and stood in front of me. Without looking me in the eye, still keeping that slouchy hat poked towards my face, the figure asked in a gruff and apparently fake voice if I would take $25 for a couple of hours fun. I said sure and just started walking off toward my place, knowing that the john would follow.
Well, we got up to my place-at this point I must admit I was nervous not because I was at all uptight about sex, but only because I thought this character might try and knife me or something-and when I heard the door click shut behind us I turned around to get a better look at my first customer. Well, the hat came off, and what should have come out from underneath it but a beautiful head of long blond hair. Then the trench coat opened up and rather than seeing what I had expected to see-the sort of belly and intimidating body of a middle-aged man-the beautiful shapely body of a woman in her late twenties. I was so surprised that I just sat down at the foot of the bed and stared. The woman was wearing a tight blue sweater and a pair of baggy pants that she had needed to complete her ruse as a man. But the sweater was definitely a woman's, and the full breasts that bulged beneath it were definitely the real McCoy.
I suppose I sat there open-mouthed and silent for a few seconds, because finally the figure spoke to me in a rather impatient tone, "What are you staring at, bitch? I'm here to fuck you not to be stared at."
Well, I certainly had never been spoken to that way by a woman before, and I didn't quite know what to make of it. Her tone excited me though, and the way she stood and stared back at me-hands on her hips, breasts thrust forward-I knew I was in for yet another fresh adventure, yet another taste of what a full and free sex life had to offer.
Before I could answer her, she had approached me on the bed and pushed me backwards roughly by the shoulders. I lay back, not knowing whether it would be a better idea to resist or to give in to whatever she had in mind. Then I remembered that I was a whore, a paid sex machine, and that I had no right to resist no matter what she did. So I just lay back and waited to see what happened. She reached down for my legs and held them roughly against her waist. With a deft and strong hand, she yanked off the boots I'd been wearing. The boots were very tight, and the friction of the leather being stretched over my calves and ankles was strangely exciting. When she had taken them off me, she threw the boots roughly across the room and dropped my legs back onto the ground so that my heels hit the floor.
She stood there high above me, looking down. Then she said to me "And how old are you, my pretty?" Twenty-three I lied.
"Bullshit," she said. "You're probably not even twenty yet. And how long have you been a hooker?"
"Oh, a couple of months," I said. Lying again.
"That's bullshit too," she said, "You've probably been out there a week at the most, if that."
Well, I was flattered that she thought I had had even a week's experience. As it was I was intrigued-I was getting horny already even though I was so confused-I really didn't know what was expected of me or how to react. Fortunately, my client was of the type who wanted to do everything herself anyway and so I didn't have to make any of the decisions. I just lay back and enjoyed the show, or perhaps I should say enjoyed providing the show.
She bent down over me and undid the zippers at the sides of my skirt. Then she yanked roughly at the waist, forcing me to raise my hips so that the cloth could slide over my legs and down onto the floor. I was now nude from the waist down, though I still had on my tight see-through shirt. Assuming that she wanted me to take it off, I started lifting it over my head, but she roughly grabbed my wrist and told me to leave it on. "No," she said. "Your little titties look too nice with it on. Besides, it would be vulgar to see your bare breasts. You look much more enticing like that, with your ass and your cunt bare, and your breasts hidden coyly behind that hint of cloth. I like the way you look like that. You look like a whore."
I could feel my cunt getting wet now. I don't know why this is, but I seem to react very well to being verbally abused. When Jim would talk dirty to me, it would inevitably cause me to get wet and to want to fuck. And now with this woman-this bizarre dyke who walked around in a trench coat and an old slouch hat-was cursing at me, calling me a whore and I loved it. Before she had even really touched me I could feel that my cunt lips were glistening with anticipation.
"And now," said my client, "Stand up and let me look at you."
I stood up, rather stiffly, and she walked around me gobbling me up with her eyes. Then she roughly grabbed one of my legs and forced me to put a leg up on the bed, the better to spread my thighs apart. Then she sat down on the floor in front of me, and just stared up at my cunt. Her face was so close that she could have eaten me if she wanted to, but that apparently was not her intention. She just wanted to look, to feast her eyes on my cunt, and to make me feel debased, to make me feel that I was nothing more than an object for her voyeuristic gratification. And for some reason that notion excited me terrifically and I could feel my juices flowing more as she watched. I could tell that I was giving her just what she wanted-a view of the wet cunt, a cunt getting wet for no other reason besides the fact that it was being looked at and that it was being examined and paid for.
She watched me for a while, but it soon became apparent that that was to be only part of the evening's amusement. Eventually, she got up from her viewpoint between my legs and started walking around me again. Without ever touching me, she ordered me into various positions where she could view me to her heart's content. For example, she made me kneel on the bed with my ass in the air, and she kept urging me on to force it up higher and higher, until my back was painfully arched; and my cunt was pointing straight up toward the ceiling. From the strain of the position, I could feel my cunt lips opening of their own accord, and I could feel her eyes on the pink place where the lips were separated, even though I had no way of seeing her since my face was buried in a pillow.
Then, having tired of seeing me in that pose, she ordered me to sit in a chair, and to splay my legs over either arm, so that my cunt was opened up wide, lying in the hollow made by my lifted and spread legs. And all the while she ordered me about and stared at me, she kept talking to me in the filthiest language imaginable, she called me a peachy young slut, a tender bitch, a total cunt, and she promised me that she would make a dyke out of me before the night was through. She asked me if I had had women before, and I lied and said yes, but she just laughed in my face and told me that I was lying. She apparently was a very, very experienced woman and I could see that my lies were to no avail.
Well, apparently, merely looking at me was only part of her intention. After she had ordered me into perhaps half a dozen poses, and taken her time staring at me in every one, she told me just to stand up opposite her. We stood very close to each other, eve to eye, face to face, our nipples almost touching-mine standing up stiff and prominent through the cloth of my blouse and hers pointing out of the tight sweater-and she looked right at me and said, "And now my dear, let's see how you wrestle."
And before I had time to reply or even to really realize what she had said, she had seized me roughly by the shoulders and was in the process of throwing me down onto the rug. In an instinctive gesture of self-defense, I turned sideways and tried to throw her, and we tumbled down onto the floor together. The woman was very strong, and apparently well versed in the gentle art of wrestling women, but I myself had been quite a gymnast in school, and I felt that I could handle myself in any fray. Once on the floor, we grappled like two men would-we strained against each other, we sweated, we gripped each other's arms and legs as hard as we could, grunting and groaning with the sheer strain of it. At one point, we reached a position where neither of us could move, and through bare teeth she said to me, "If you lose, you bitch, you'll be tied up, you realize that, don't your'
Apparently excited by her own words she seemed to get some extra strength from somewhere and threw me roughly onto my back. I struggled in vain to get free, but she was able to pin my shoulders with her knees, and I lay there helpless, defeated. She looked down at me with an evil grin on her face, and reaching into the pocket of her baggy pants-she had remained dressed the whole time, the better to debase my nakedness-and pulled out two slender nylon cords. Reaching far forward so that her knees stopped the circulation in my arms, she wrapped the cords around each of my wrists, and then tied them to the leg of my bed, so that my arms were spread far apart, immobilized. Then she stood up and undressed. I lay there, unable to move, and watched as she slowly and lasciviously unclothed herself. With one smooth lift, she removed the tight sweater. Her breasts were very full and heavy, and they stood straight out from her chest with only the slightest bit of sag. Her nipples were very prominent and very dark, almost a cocoa brown against the pale skin of her tits. Then she removed the baggy pants, and revealed an ass and thighs that were surprisingly slim but well-developed. Ripples of muscle were visible in her thighs and along the sides of her buttocks-clearly she was an experienced wrestler.
She moved toward me and straddled me, standing, looking down from an immense height. Given the angle at which I looked at her, her most prominent feature was her cunt which stood above me seeming very hairy, the mound seeming very exaggerated, and the lips seeming positively to bulge out, a rich, purplish red. And I must admit that I felt a surge of gratification to see that her cunt lips too were glistening. The added thrill of being looked at had not been experienced only by me. This woman was clearly a connoisseur, a consummate dyke who was a voyeur, a wrestler and apparently a bit of a sadist all rolled into one compact package.
Slowly, very slowly she lowered herself to her knees, and brought her thighs and bottom down to me. Naive as I was, there was no doubt in mind as to what she intended to do-she was going to bring her cunt down onto my face, to force me to eat her while I lay there helplessly, unable to resist. Slowly, very slowly, I saw the puffy and glistening bush descend, and teasing me, she tickled my face with the hairs before actually bringing the full weight of it down onto me. Then in a final swoop, she brought her cunt down full on my face and I was amazed at the heat and wetness of it, as well as by the puffy fullness of the lips. Unable to contain myself, I buried my face in the hot place, kissing, nibbling, licking at it, thrusting my tongue deep into the ruby hole, tasting the juices of another woman. I was so turned on by the thought of eating the cunt sap of another woman that I immediately began gyrating my own hips, and though I could not move my arms, and could barely move my neck, my legs and bottom danced wildly on the rugged floor. i
But my customer was apparently one of those women who liked to cause their whores at least as much discomfort as pleasure, because she now increased the weight of her cunt on my face, bringing her hips down full force onto my face, practically suffocating me with the strong athletic smell of her pussy. I had no choice but to inhale her cunt, I could feel the rich sap all over my face mingling with my breath, and as I inhaled, I could actually taste and feel her sap entering my lungs, my entire body. I was being totally drowned by the juices of another woman! But still, besides my discomfort, I licked, I nibbled, I bit, I darted my tongue in and out. I was so involved in my own pleasure, at the, thought of my first lesbian encounter, that I barely realized that my client was moaning loudly, tossing her head in a wild rhythm as I brought her closer and closer to orgasm with my mouth. When I finally did realize it, the thought that I could bring another women to orgasm, that I could make her peak and come, excited me still more and I began bouncing my hips up and down on the floor, feeling my own cunt dripping and somehow imagining that there was a cock inside of me, or maybe the lips of a woman on it.
Growing hotter and hotter, I worked my mouth more furiously, bringing my teeth into play more and more, biting at the clit that seemed to swell and throb between my lips. I worked harder and harder, and I heard a quiet groan grow louder, turning to shrieks, shrieks of pleasure, shrieks of domination. And then, as her rapid breathing and total loss of control indicated that she was rocking toward orgasm, she swiveled slightly, and with her cunt still squarely plastered all over my face reached into my own cunt with her hand. Very roughly, she thrust three fingers up my own swirling cunt, and with a total animal rhythm, she swiveled her hips over my face at the same time that she jerked her fingers in and out of me. And now we were both coming to the point of orgasm together, she from the stimulation of my tongue and lips and teeth on her clit, and I from humiliation of being tied and abused, and the pressure of her fingers inside my cunt. She frigged me harder and harder, yanking at the flesh under my pubic bone, slashing her fingers around inside me, making my cunt still more distended than it had ever felt before, and at the same time never losing the rhythm with which she roughly brushed her pussy over my face. She increased the vigor of her thrusts so that the crack of her cunt ran from my forehead all the way down to my chin. My face was covered with cunt, it seemed to seep into my very pores. I could not open my eyes. We both seemed to be . involved in a shared, long-lasting, never ending orgasm. The fingers inside me seemed to be working with an almost superhuman vigor-like the piston of a motorcycle-and I myself seemed to be using my mouth as a sort of engine, a sort of machine that would do one thing over and over again, and do it perfectly.
Finally, all trace of control was gone, I felt my hips and my legs flop totally out of control, I felt my hips and my thighs swivel and rock without any conscious awareness of it, and the fingers which had frigged me so wonderfully suddenly flew up to my face and rubbed my own cunt juices into my skin. I lay there exhausted, spent, humiliated, my face covered with the cunt juices of two women, the sap now beginning to dry up on my skin, on my face, all the way up to my head.
My customer, imperious as ever, stood up, stood above me, smirking and with her toes untied the ribbons which had been binding me. She looked at me with a look of incredible scorn, of incredible debasement and she said to me, "You're a slut. I'll be back again to fuck you."
I said to her, not being able to think of anything else to say, "What's your name?"
"You're a whore, you've no right to know my name."
And she left leaving a fifty dollar bill on my dresser.
CHAPTER FIVE
Well, considering how willing I was to learn and considering the knack I had for attracting all the live ones for customers it wasn't long before I felt that nothing could shock me. After just a couple of weeks of hooking I had been initiated into group sex, flagellation, and other forms of humiliation and just about anything else that I could imagine or have managed to come across since. I don't like to brag but I must have been doing a pretty damn good job, because my reputation spread very quickly by word of mouth and I never went lacking for customers. Also there must have been something very appealing about my young ass and the things I did with it because I was pulling in about fifty dollars per customer, whereas the average charge for a street hooker in Joplin, Missouri, was twenty dollars at the most.
So it wasn't long before I had the two thousand dollars that I figured I need to start off. I figured on Spending about fifteen hundred dollars for the bike, and having five hundred dollars left over to start me off on my travels. I knew that I could always do a little stint of hooking while I was on the road if I needed some extra cash, but just the same I wanted to start off with at least a little nest egg. So I decided to give up hooking for the meantime, but on my last night at work I had a very exciting incident that I just can't resist telling you about.
I was hanging out in my usual spot-in the few weeks I'd been there it had become a sort of shrine for all those after quality tail in the area-and the usual procession "of perverts was walking by. Practically everyone on the streets said hello to me: at one time or another I'd balled them all. Well, I'm standing there and along come these two guys walking down the street as palsy as could be. It was obvious that they were very drunk, and that now they were after a kind of cunty nightcap. So they walked right up to me and the bigger of the two guys says, "Hi, babes. My name's Dave and this here's my friend Eddie. We met in the service and we've been such good pals ever since that we do everything together, we even fuck our whores together. So if you'll consent to take on both of us at once, there'll be a hundred dollars waiting for you when we get done. What do you say?"
Well, I could hardly turn down an offer like that. First of all because a hundred dollars for one stint of work-even if it was with two guys-was an awfully good deal, and second of all these guys were very good-looking. They were both big and brawny, although Dave was a good couple of inches taller than Eddie. They were the kind of guys with big square jaws and thick heavy necks, nice beefy shoulders, and I just assumed that they had the kind of cock to go with bodies like that. So I told them to follow me on up to my room, and I was off to the races again.
We were barely inside the door when the two of them sandwiched me in a kind of jolly good-natured bear hug, and I felt like I was getting squeezed to death between them. But at the same time I could feel the two cocks pressing against me, one from the front and one from the back, and I knew that these guys, however drunk they were, were out to get their money's worth from me.
Well, when they finally let me out of that bear hug, I slunk away and started getting undressed. As I stripped-it didn't take long considering all I had been wearing was a slinky black trick dress with nothing at all on under it, no bra, no panties, not even the usual garter belt-and as I stripped I felt those two pairs of eyes on me, and there was something especially exciting to me in realizing that they had shared so many women before, that those pairs of eyes worked in perfect unison to explore the contours of a whore's body. I decided that since they were paving so well, I might give them a little extra added attraction, so after I was stripped, I went into an impromptu little dance, bumping and grinding before their excited eyes, moving around the room with my hands behind my head, thrusting my pubic mound around in dizzy whorish circles, letting my tits sway in the breeze. They watched me very closely, every now and then they'd look over at each other and nod in satisfaction. I was doing a pretty good job of pleasing them, and I was happy about it. Since this was my last night of hooking, I decided I'd really go all out for all my customers.
Well, for some reason I found myself getting really turned on by my own exhibitionism. I'd been forced to put on shows for my customers, but I'd never gotten around to putting on a little show as just my own idea. Suddenly the idea seemed very appealing. I like the idea of knowing that the two of them would just watch me, that their eyes would gobble up my tits and my cunt, that they would stare at my ass no matter what way it moved, and it excited me to know that their peckers would be jumping underneath their pants just from the sheer sight of me. So I bumped and ground some more, moving to an invisible music of my own, letting my thighs spread wide apart and jerking my hips toward them as if involved in some sort of tribal fertility rite. I was really getting into the dance, and I found that if I swayed my shoulders in a very quick rhythm I could make my breasts flow in opposite directions making the nipples twirl in dizzy spirals before their amazed eyes.
I now choreographed a grand finale to my dance. Standing with my legs far apart, I reached way back behind my ass, and bringing my hands up from under, I seized my cunt lips with my fingertips and spread them wide apart, humping at the same time, so that I was actually thrusting the inside of my cunt out at them. Looking down at the position into which I had contorted myself, I was amazed and turned on to see just a wide expanse of pink-no, red-pussy being thrust at them. I had literally turned myself inside out for the enjoyment of these two horny old buddies!
Well, as much as the two of them were obviously enjoying the show-they both had very promising bulges in their pants and I could see the heads of their cocks pulsing underneath the khaki cloth-they weren't paying me a hundred dollars just to watch, and so after I'd finished my little dance, the two of them stripped and came at me. They took their clothes off without ceremony, totally without any sort of self-consciousness before the other, and they both displayed their full-fledged hard-ons to each other without the slightest touch of embarrassment. And let me tell you they had nothing to be embarrassed about-as a matter of fact they both had lots to be proud of! I've seen lots of cock, but I've never seen two cocks that were better matched, or two cocks better designed to work together. They were both beautiful-long, thick, red-headed and fully shafted, and they both stood up at that wonderful angle which is the sign of a good sturdy prick.
I didn't quite know how they intended to divvy me up, but from the sight of them both, I had the feeling that I couldn't lose in any case. The two of them crossed the room toward me and motioned me onto the bed flat on my back Then Dave very gently and without any hesitation at all buried his face in my muff, going right at me with his tongue and lips, while at the same time Ed knelt on the bed above me, letting his big thick cock dangle over my face, letting it flutter ever so lightly over my nose and lips. It was a wonderful sensation to be eating and to be eaten at the same time. In some way, it seemed as if my own lips were on my cunt, and as if this cock that was so teasingly and so hotly dangling into my mouth were some sort of huge rich fruit that was being fed me by an invisible source.
I don't know how long this particular position lasted. All I know is that Dave was so adept at pussy licking with his tongue and teeth that I was soon soaking wet. I could feel the red meat of my pussy being chewed, nibbled, run through his teeth with the loving care of a consummate cunt eater. As my excitement increased, I used my own mouth on Eddie's dangling tool with greater and greater abandon, I nibbled at the head with greater and greater satisfaction, I tongued the full length of the shaft as he dangled it above me, laying it obscenely across the whole length of my face. And as if wired together by some sort of sympathetic vibrations, the more vigorously I worked Eddie's cock, the more vigorously Dave ate my own cunt. He did such a thorough job that I felt as if I had his entire face inside of me, it seemed as if he were eating me from the inside, as if his mouth were somehow in my womb and he was eating his way out. He worked the clit, he tongued the entire length of the crack, he worked his tongue upwards into my canal, worked it so hard that it almost felt like a cock.
Then without my even being aware that they had changed positions I suddenly found myself with Dave's cock in my mouth and Eddie's head between my legs. Those fellows knew the meaning of team work, let me tell you. Their movements were so well-coordinated that I knew that they had been through this hundreds of times. They had probably been through every whore in Saigon in just the same fashion. It titillated me and made me feel excruciatingly filthy to realize that I didn't matter at all, I was only an object, a ritual that they had already enacted hundreds of times and without doubt would enact hundreds of times more. I was nothing but a cunt, a body, a piece of meat that they would act out their own fantasies and their own friendship on.
After a time the position changed again, and I now found myself holding to Dave's cock with my right hand and Eddie's cock with my left as they stood on either side of the bed above me. Then they each leaned forward, and put a finger up me. In perfectly coordinated rhythm, they worked their fingers in and out; they had their motions down pat. The different angles of their fingers going up my cunt was an exquisite sensation, and it excited me still more to realize that they were doing it together, to realize that they were literally splitting me right in half, fifty-fifty. I gently pulled on both their cocks, I coaxed them to finger me good and thoroughly, I coaxed them to do as good a job on me as I hoped to do on both of them. Well, they must have gotten my message, because after a short time each of them slipped another finger in, stretching-my cunt to what I thought was the bursting point, but making my juices spurt anew, making the bones around my cunt feel clenched and then relaxed, working me up another notch in the hierarchy of fucking. So now I had four fingers in me, two from each of the men who were working me over so delightfully!
But this finger fucking, as delightful as it was, was only one of many stops that they would make on their route to the hundred dollar destination. For starters, each of the two of them brought their face down onto my breasts, and each sucked lovingly but firmly at one of my nipples. Their mouths seemed wonderfully well-matched, they worked their lips and tongues in identical fashion, making the sensation from each of my tits merge into one total feeling of delight. I felt my nipples immediately get taut in their mouths, I felt the firm flesh rising, I could feel the little bumps at the edge of the nipples form and I could feel the magic passageway that connects tits with cunt start to flow with juices. I guess the sensation of my nipples communicated itself to my already soaking pussy.
And then, before I knew quite what had happened, I had one of them installed between my legs, gently working his thick cock between the folds of my dripping snatch while the other straddled my chest, and let his member dangle deliciously in the hollow between my tingling breasts. I could no longer tell one from the other; I was so excited from this double attention that my perception of the rest of this wonderful fuck was somewhat trance-like. All I knew was that I had two big strong male bodies working on me, that I was getting double-fucked, that I was being assailed by two cocks, that two filthy imaginations were using me in every way they could think of. I lay there groaning quietly to myself while ' one of the cocks worked its way in and out of my soaked cunt and the other dangled between my tits. The sensation was so exquisite that the space between my breasts came to feel like a sort of cunt in itself, my entire body was beginning to feel like a cunt I was being so thoroughly fucked. At some point I think they changed positions but I can't be quite sure. Their cocks were so well-matched that they felt exactly the same as they fucked me-big, thick, hot and amazingly hard. It was wonderful always to have the weight of one body on my chest while the other poked its way between my legs. I loved the filthy feeling of their heavy sweaty asses rubbing my body, and the feel of their heavy balls slapping my ass when they fucked their way into me. I have always loved being used by men-or by women for that matter-but there was something particularly exquisite about this twin fuck. I suppose what was so exquisite about it was the realization I had that in effect these men were fucking each other, through me. I was simply the vehicle by which they performed for each other, by which they displayed their prowess to the other and showed each other the marvelous kinds of fucking they could do. I was totally being used. I didn't count at all.
Then, after the two of them had fucked my Cunt long enough to get it good and thoroughly open, to get it to the point where all the muscles were relaxed and it was hungry and welcoming to the oncoming dick, they turned me over onto my stomach, and hoisted me up onto my knees. I knelt there with my ass in the air, my dripping and wide-open cunt exposed to their sight and to their assault, not knowing what they intended next. One of them sat on the bed in front of me obscenely spreading his legs and thrusting his cock against my forehead, while the other stood in back of me and began pushing his dick in the sweet slush of my cunt.
He then laid the swollen head of it against my asshole, and I knew full well that I was in for a bout of ass fucking. He worked it into me slowly but firmly and I felt the initial sharp pain of the sphincter being pressed and finally letting go. But I've always loved to have my ass fucked-to me there is something wonderfully perverse and unnatural about it, the thought of having my intestines probed by a sweet thick cock-and very soon the pain gave way to the pleasure that I'd come to love so much. The thick prick moved in and out of me, expertly stretching the sphincter, relaxing the tight tissue around the asshole. I felt myself open more and more as he swiveled his cock from side to side, extending the pressure to every part of my anus, swiveling it around the way you might move a stick in the sand to make the hole ever wider.
When one of them had accomplished the initial labor of opening my ass, of making the tissue relaxed and lie open as if it were a second and auxiliary cunt, they changed position and the other one worked his sweet tool in and out of my rectum for a while. The whole time this was going on I could feel my cunt producing its heavy honey, I could feel it milking itself in sympathetic vibration. The two of them worked so calmly, so deliberately, with such thorough intention of working me over, of flicking me every way that I might possibly be fucked, that I gave myself up to it totally, I fell into a kind of trance, and it is very possible that I was having an orgasm the whole time they were working my ass. I was at a constant plateau of peak excitement, I felt my cunt oozing more and more like a sponge that could be squeezed and squeezed and yet still retain some of its moisture. As they fucked my ass their balls slapped against the opening of my cunt, and I was so excited, so thoroughly sensitized, that the mere pressure of the skin of their scrotums against my clit felt like a very firm and perfect massage.
And now they turned me onto my side, scooting my hips toward the edge of the bed so that both my holes were maximally exposed, and so that either of them might have access to either orifice as they dangled over the bed. I knew they liked to work together and I knew that all their patient prodding had been leading up to some sort of grand finale, but I had never imagined what they had intended to do-they intended to fuck both my holes at once, to get one of their cocks into my cunt and the other up my ass! The idea thrilled me, it was one of the filthiest things I could possibly think of, and yet I could not help being afraid-both of them had thick cocks, and the combined pressure of the two of them pressing against my insides would burst me, I feared. But I was far too excited to ask them not to, and besides I was a whore, a hooker, a common street slut, and I had no right to protest anything that might be done to me by a customer.
So they had me there on the edge of the bed with both my holes fucked wide open and oozing their various secretions. Standing there hip to hip, the two of them laid the heads of their cocks against my holes. 'I felt the hot tip of a prick lying against the opening of my anal sphincter, and I felt the other lying between the folds of my soaked and wide-open cunt. The pressure from this alone sent me into spasms of pleasure and anticipation of pain, as I visualized the twin shafts pushed up into me. And then, in perfect agreement, they began the push. It would be impossible for me to fully describe the sensation of having two cocks thrust into me at once. The pressure was greater than even the greatest dildo I could imagine-it was a different kind of pressure, a pressure of two thick cylinders, the pressure of having the walls of my cunt stretched and pushed downward into my rectum, and the walls of my rectum stretched and pushed upward into the walls of my cunt. The space that they usually shared was now being usurped, and the thin wall between the two openings was being rubbed from either side, was being tugged at and stretched from both sides at once!
I wanted to scream from the pleasure and from the pressure that was making me feel as if I were split in two, but I didn't dare say a word, I didn't dare even move. The two of them were so thoroughly into their fucking, and I so fully realized my role as an object, that I was paralyzed. I just lay there and took it. Their cocks moved in and out of me in a perfectly measured rhythm. I could feel the twin heads push at me at the same pace, I could feel the one straining upward towards my womb while the other pushed its way toward the turn in the road of my anus. I could feel the shafts pulsing in unison, I could feel the heads quaking. I could feel my tissue being assailed from every angle, I could feel the tension and friction increase with each thrust.
And now they began to quicken their pace slightly. And yet even so, they managed to be perfectly well-coordinated, be perfectly timed, as if they were playing some sort of weird erotic music together. And I was the dripping instrument on which they played. And suddenly, I had a thought which excited me so much that it instantly sent me off into renewed spasms, that brought me even higher than the plateau I had been on, and sent me spinning into giddy orgasms-the thought I had was that they could each feel the other's cock inside me, through my thin membrane they would be feeling the contours and the shape of each other's prick! Yes, I was nothing but a vehicle for their own friendship, I was nothing but a means by which they brought their closeness to an incredibly high and wonderfully perverse pitch! The pace of their fucking increased still more and yet was still perfectly measured. Again and again they brought their twin shafts into me, filling me to the brim, stretching me in every conceivable direction. Faster and faster the twin pricks came into me, stretching my walls, stretching my ass, sketching my cunt, and the orgasm that had started when I first had the image of the two cocks rubbing against each other through my membrane continued for what seemed like hours, brought me through spurt after spurt of hot honey from my cunt and sent millions of ripples through my entire body.
And then finally the two of them began to groan in unison, began to moan softly together as they neared orgasm. Faster and faster they worked me, sticking their cocks into me with greater and greater brutality, with greater and greater urgency until finally, all at once, perfectly timed, I felt them both give their last wholehearted thrust and then shoot their twin streams into me, one dose of hot come going far, far up my ass and the other dose going far, far into my cunt at the very mouth of my womb. I felt totally suffused with sperm, I felt more full of prick and more full of love juice than I had ever felt before. They held their dicks in me a long time after coming. They stayed hard for a long time, and I felt the pressure of their stillness as exquisitely as I had felt the pressure of their motion.
CHAPTER SIX
That delightful bit of fucking put my cash reserves up around where I thought they should be and so I bade a temporary farewell to my honored profession of hooking and set about motorcycle shopping. I looked around a couple of showrooms in Joplin and acquainted myself with the specifications of the various models and then finally decided that the one I most wanted was a Kawasaki 900. For those of you who have never seen one, it's a bad-assed four cylinder bike, with plenty of spare power coming right out of the bugaboo, about six hundred pounds in weight and not an ounce wasted on it. It's got plenty of speed and acceleration, plenty of power for cruising, and a good wide seat that felt like the handiest thing in the world between my legs. It probably has about as smooth a ride as any bike anywhere, but even so just the right amount of vibrations comes up through the big engine and through the frame and through the seat to keep my cunt subtly massaged as I ride along. And even aside from the vibration, just the mere sensation of straddling that big thick leather seat is enough to get my juices going.
Well I thought before I set out on the highway I should do some practice driving in Joplin and on the smaller roads around there, so I spent a couple of days just acquainting myself with the bike, taking some of my favorite customers for free rides out into the country where we could break up the monotony of practice driving with a little fucking here and there-free of charge of course. And it wasn't long before I felt I was a pretty expert motorcycle rider. Things like that come naturally to me. I think they probably come naturally to just about anyone if you can relax and just let it happen.
So I headed out west down route 40, and I can hardly describe what an exquisite sensation it was to finally be the master of my own bike. In the open stretches of country road, I would open the throttle and I would easily be topping ninety, topping a hundred sometimes, and the most wonderful thing about it was that I myself was in charge, I myself was on top of and in control of all that bike, all that steel. The engine roared and rumbled, and I really realized more intensely than I ever had before the reason why motorcycles have for so long been thought of as phallic symbols. There is something so prick-like, so aggressive, so strong and uncompromising in the feel and the motion of a bike-I won't say I felt like a man, I'm far too much of a woman to phrase it that way, but I must admit that I felt what must be some of the best parts of being a man, strong, in charge and on top of things.
Also I must say I've never had such a full and wonderful experience of scenery before. When you're in a car, you've got a windshield around you, and you're always looking out at the world through something. And even when you're a passenger on someone else's bike, you're always looking over his shoulder or around the back of his head, but when you're on your own bike, when you're riding, there's nothing at all to ruin the landscape-you're part of the landscape, as surely as if you were a wild horse roaming through the woods. You are in no way separated from the entire outside world, and there is something very beautiful, and in a purely animal way very sexy.
Well, I chalked up about two hundred miles worth of highway that first day on the road, which is certainly a sizeable piece of America to be chewing up on a bike the first day out. I rumbled out of Missouri, almost due south toward Oklahoma and then south southwest into Texas, the state that never ends. It was interesting to see the flatness of Missouri give on to the different kind of flatness of Oklahoma, and to see the oil wells bobbing their heads in the night like some sort of dinosaurs waving. And then into Texas the soil suddenly got redder, it was like that red clay sort of soil that you always see in the movies and never believed existed. I whizzed past acres and acres of fenced fields, watching the cattle graze, and seeing the beautiful strong cowboys with their leather riding pants keeping things in order. The whole thing was a tremendous turn on, a more multifaceted and universal turn-on than I ever remembered experiencing.
By the time I had covered those two hundred miles, my hands and my ass and my cunt felt like they had been so thoroughly shook up, and my whole body felt so grungy from the grit and dirt of the road that all I wanted to do was to find a campsite somewhere, hopefully with a shower or even with a stream or a lake so I could dunk myself in some water and crash. I realized on that first night that there's nothing quite so wonderful and so languorous as the total physical exhaustion that comes after a good long motorcycle ride. But as it turned out, there was a lot more excitement for me at the end of the road and the sleep that I thought I so badly wanted would be postponed for a good few hours of fucking. But I didn't mind-after all, a motorcycle rider has to be able to put up with these little unexpected hassles.
Well, to make a long story short, what happened was that I pulled into a campground, picked myself out a little place to park the bike and a place to roll out my sleeping bag, and I politely inquired if there was a pond around where I might get a swim. Well, a very helpful young fellow told me that he was just on his way up to the pond, and giving me a sort of wink that I, couldn't quite figure out at the moment, said I was welcome to walk with him if I liked. Well I thanked him for his hospitality, and though I was a little confused by the way he winked at me-although certainly not in an unpleasant way, he was a good-looking guy, and if he wanted to give me a little bit of help while I stood in the water and cooled my tired bones, that would be just all right with me.
So the two of us walked up the dirt road into some scrubby woods until we came to a pond. Back in the distance, about a third of the way around the pond, I saw a group of people skinny-dipping. Now being a country girl, this did not strike me as anything strange--I know all those city folks think they have cornered the market on sexiness and nudity, but out here in the country seeing people swimming in the nude is the most natural thing in the world. The only thing is, out in this neck of the woods people don't usually necessarily think that it leads to fucking. It's sexy in a way, of course, but everyone tries to be cool about it-usually. So this guy I was with tried to subtly steer me over toward that part of the pond. He was trying to act real cool, as if he were afraid he might scandalize me by the thought of nude people-that was rich, he never would have imagined that only a couple of nights ago I had been a hooker.
But rather than spoil his illusions, rather than deflate his big fantasy that he was seducing me, I played along, acting as if I didn't know what was going on. In a kind of perverse way, it was a turn-on for me to be playing the dumb girl, it made me feel like much more of a whore to realize that I was so thoroughly initiated into all this, that I could adapt any attitude that I damned well pleased. I had barely passed my twentieth birthday, and already I was jaded. Not jaded in a way where things ceased being fun, just jaded in a way where I could handle anything in the world, I knew I could handle any sex scene no matter how perverse, no matter how out of the ordinary. I had made myself a total cunt by the age where most women are barely learning how to fuck gracefully, and you better believe I was proud of it. My cunt started getting wet as I mulled over these flattering reflections in my mind, and I hoped that once we got to where the skinny-dipping was going on, my escort wouldn't waste too much time getting down to the nitty gritty.
Now what I expected was that these people were going skinny-dipping and then pairing off and coyly slipping off into the woods to fuck. It never occurred to me that what was going on was a full-scale orgy-the people you find in campgrounds, while they're often some of the nicest people in the world, tend to be sort of straight and "wholesome types. Now I don't mean really square-I'm sure a bit of fucking in the woods would be perfectly acceptable to all of them, but I really didn't think that a full-scale orgy there at the side of the pond complete with bizarre configurations of three or four bodies doing everything to each other that they could think of, lesbianism, and such a tangle of arms and legs that I had ever seen in my life, would be going on. But as we got closer to the group of bodies, I could see through the dimness that that's exactly what was happening. I don't know how many people there were altogether-about twenty I guess, but they came in all shapes and sizes, young, old, male, female, and the only thing they had in common was a love of the highway, the great outdoors, and above all a love of fucking.
The bank of the pond was a sort of silty, muddy bank, kind of a mud beach actually and some of the action was going on right there in the cool mud. The people who were groveling in the mud seemed to be enjoying it terrifically-I could almost feel it myself, the cool and slippery feel of the wet dirt, the way it made everyone's limbs slippery and cool, and how delightfully dirty the thought of rolling in the mud is. Some of the other people had waded in, and were standing in water up to their thighs, leaving their genitals obscenely exposed just above the surface of the water so that they might be optimally shown off, and so that fingers or mouths or pricks could easily find their targets. Here and there a man stood in such a way that only the tip of his erect cock was above water, bobbing there like some sort of ruby floating animal.
Well, I don't know how my escort expected me to react to all this. My guess was that he would have been flattered if I'd been shocked, if I had let him think that I had never seen anything like this before, but at the sight of all this fucking going on, I just lost all control over the game I'd been playing in my own mind and decided to join right in in my own way-which means all the way. So as quick as I could, I slipped out of my riding clothes, and without even looking back at him I just ran into the v I water as fast as I could. The water itself felt wonderful, it was mildly cool, and felt tremendously cleansing and refreshing after my day on the road. From the sheer joy of it, I plunged under the water and swum around looking through the murky gloom, seeing with satisfaction and anticipation the rows of thighs that stood before me in the water.
Well, when I join the party, I do it with style, so it entered my mind that a good way to join in this particular orgy might just to be to take a cock in my mouth while I was swimming there under water. So, holding my breath as long as I could I swam around until I saw a nice meaty one bobbing there before me like a huge worm on a hook. I swam right up to it like some sort of whorish mermaid, and opening my mouth as I swam, I let it slide right in. The owner of it, who hadn't seen me coming through the murky water, must have been shocked-and I bet a little frightened at first-but thoroughly pleased because the head of that prick immediately began pulsing in my mouth. I sucked it under water for as long as I could hold out, and when I was finally out of air, I released it and came up for a good deep breath. I found myself standing opposite the owner of that sweet delicious cock, a big beautiful long-haired hippy who looked like an easterner-he had that kind of sandy brown hair, and those intense eyes, that usually mark a disillusioned young man from the east, seeking himself out in the wide open.
I just stared into those intense eyes, the memory of the delicious prick in my mouth still with me, and he stared back at me so intensely that I thought I would just drop right there on the spot. He seemed to have a different kind of sexuality from any that I had encountered before, a sexuality that was based on intellect, that was based on a mind so thoroughly sexualized and so thoroughly sensual that it transformed everything it saw or thought into terms of fucking. We stood there just staring for what must have been a full minute or more, and then he reached over and, holding me under my arms, he lifted me up-of course I was very light and maneuverable because of the water-and as smoothly as could be, he just sat me down onto his hard swollen prick. My cunt was so wet from the excitement of his stare that the prick slid right into me even though it was a good thick one, and I lay there against him, my legs wrapped around his waist like a little girl swimming with her daddy, and the head of his cock probing deeper and deeper into the mouth of my womb.
It was one of the pleasantest things I'd ever felt, this aqueous fuck, and I let myself lie hack on the surface of the water, my legs still wrapped around him, his prick still sticking into me and I was secure in the knowledge that his mind was in perfect control of his body, and that his body was in perfect control of me. After a couple of minutes of this remarkable stillness, he began to walk with me through the water, gently putting me along as if he were towing a small rowboat behind him, and the motion of the water tickled my thighs and gently surged over my breasts. With his cock still inside me, it seemed like a wonderful sort of swimming fuck, and the water that lapped against the inside of my thighs and the lips of my spread-open pussy was more sensual than any contact with the air or fabric could ever be. There is something so sexy about the whole idea of water-it conjured images of the primeval cunt of the world, it brings us back to the womb, but not a restful womb, a sensual womb where everything feels good, where everything is allowed.
Finally I sat myself up again, and held him around the neck with both hands. His cock seemed to be swelling still more from the continual but subtle excitement of lying so deep inside my pussy, and I could not restrain myself from lasciviously wiggling my hips against the lower part of his belly. It was as if I were swimming down onto him, as if I were a sort of mermaid working my hole down onto the lovely cylinder of a submerged rock or some sort of blind sea creature. I let myself fantasize about all sorts of ocean fucks, about being fucked by the ocean, about being fucked by fish, about swimming through cold seas holding on to the cock of a whale; with my fatigue from the road and the wonderful sensuality of the water my fantasies ran wild, and each new image I conjured up made my cunt wetter, and my hips rotate more strongly and with greater abandon.
As if he could read my mind, the beautiful man on whose cock I was so wonderfully installed also began to grow more excited. But control was his main concern-I don't doubt that he was enjoying every moment of the fucking, but part of his game, part of his style was to remain as impassive as could be. This excited me still more-I've always thought that the most controlled men were the sexiest, far sexier than the men who infinitely give themselves up to their passion and begin flailing away.
This sweet, slow torture continued for a while longer, and then my lover began wading with me toward a cluster of people who had been standing and toying with each other a little ways away. He told me that he wanted me to meet some of his friends, a beautiful lesbian couple who he was sure would take an instant liking to me. I felt my cunt give an extra little squirt the first time he mentioned the word lesbian-I still remembered my titillating encounter with that marvelous dyke on my first night in Joplin, and I had been hungry ever since for a woman's touch, for the feel of a woman's mouth and a woman's pussy.
Well, his friends were certainly no disappointment. They were two blond sisters whose names were Jill and Jamie and who both looked like water nymphs, standing there as they were sunk in up to the waist, with their beautiful twin pairs of tits shimmering above the surface of the water. Their hair was the exact same shade and they looked astonishingly alike-they might even have been twins. Well, as soon as my lover carried me over to them, the two of them began complimenting me on my breasts and they lost no time in beginning to fondle them. They each began playing and paying all sorts of the nicest attention to my breasts, first fondling with their hands, cupping the entire weight of them at first, as if to measure their size and their firmness, and then beginning to concentrate more particularly on the nipples, which responded well, immediately becoming taut and hard in the cool night air. Seeing that their tit play was having such a marvelous effect on me they soon gave me their mouths. At one and the same instant, their two lush sets of lips came down onto my nipples and they began to suck me, as if I were the horny mother of a pair of twin baby girls. But their sucking was so deliberate and more expert than a baby's could ever be; they were thoroughly versed in the perfect use of tongue and lips, and they knew just when to bring their teeth into play. Until my nipples reached their maximum degree of tautness they only teased me with their smooth lips and the slippery tips of their tongues. But when they could feel, with a woman's sure instinct for figuring out the workings of another woman's body, that my nipples had reached their maximum degree of tautness and thus their maximum degree of sensitivity, they began to use their teeth on me, and I myself was amazed and excited by just how taut I was-I felt the resistance that my rubbery nipples were putting up against their sharp but sensual teeth, and I was excited by my own excitement.
Unconsciously, I had let go of my lover's neck and was now again lying backwards on the surface of the water, his dick still in me. He looked down at me, on his face a look of infinite calm and of infinite excitement, pleased by the sight of his two friends working on my tits. The two women supported me gently by placing the palms of their hands on my back, and I floated there in a kind of total ecstasy. And then, without even quite realizing how it happened, I realized that I had slipped a hand between each of their sets of legs and that I was fingering them both! I really don't know how it happened, I guess it was just another instance of the workings of that animal sexual instinct, that blind and all-consuming drive that lets me know exactly the kind of horny thing to do in any situation. Being a slut certainly comes naturally, and I constantly amazed myself at how adept I am at it! So I found myself lying back in the water, fingering them gently and rhythmically. Their cunts felt wonderful and smooth under the water. Against the coolness of the pond, the heat that was radiating from both of their pussies seemed all the more exquisite, and I was excited by the slippery feel of the cunt sap that slowly oozed out of them in steady pulses and retained its marvelous slipperiness even when diluted by the water that the pond had to offer. Their cunt hair floated like some sort of wonderful seaweed and I ran my thumb over and over the knotty texture of it as I worked my fingers into them.
I suppose they liked the way I fingered them,' because they began to moan softly, in a kind of perfect harmony as they sucked my tits. Driven on by the exciting sound of their sexual groaning, I now slipped two fingers into each of them, then three, and though I worked my hands slowly and steadily, I kept increasing the pressure of my arms, thrusting my fingers into them with greater and greater force, fucking them more and more authoritatively while I lay there being fucked myself and having their sweet mouths on my tits.
I fingered them harder and harder, I felt their juices coming more and more thickly, being expelled into the water in greater and greater volumes, and as I brought them nearer and nearer to orgasm they increased the pressure of their fingers on my back, now beginning to knead my skin in a most wonderful washing, and then finally digging their mouths into me, scratching at me playfully and with just the right degree of volume as I continued frigging them. I have always loved fucking women, and the thought of bringing the women to orgasm has always been one of the most exciting things for me-so imagine how I felt now, while I was lying back with a good thick cock in me bringing two women to orgasm at once! With a kind of frenzied energy, I frigged them again and again, worked my hands up into them until my arms ached and I felt I could no longer raise them. But the desire to make these two women come was so strong that my arms kept moving long after the point when I thought all my energy was expended. And finally my efforts were rewarded-the two women clenched their breath at the same exact second, their moans changed to a kind of low extended shriek, and I felt one final squirt of cunt juice flow out over each of my hands, I felt one final surge of the hotness of their pussies come down over my hands and wrists and I lay there fingering them in the water.
The wonderful sensation of this, of their cunts flowing outward into my hands, sent me off into an orgasm of my own. And though my stoic lover did not deign to move his prick, but just kept it lying there like a log inside me, I felt myself vibrating all around it, I felt my clitoris pulsing, and the walls of my vagina going off into crazy fluttering spasms.
When that initial orgasm had subsided, the beautiful sisters lifted me up so that I was again holding the neck of my lover. He looked at me gently but also with a sort of calm ferocity, and said that now he was going to take me to the bank, and fuck me in the mud. Although I was reluctant to leave the water, the thought of the mud excited me terribly. I loved the whole idea of it, the whole idea of fucking in the wet dirt, the whole idea of being covered with filth and at the same time being wrapped in the arms of a lovely man.
So we waded in to shore, and though I could feel my weight increasing on him, as the water got shallower, his steps never flagged or faltered. He was very strong, he carried me effortlessly, as if I were a small child, his unflagging cock still sticking in me the whole time. He never showed the slightest sign of strain, or of fatigue. When we reached the muddy beach, he lowered himself gently to his knees and without ever taking his cock out of me, he laid me down on my back and began to fuck me slowly and rhythmically. The feel of his hot cock coming down into me from above and the feel of the cool mud clinging to me from below merged into a beautiful sensation of total sexual abandon. I could feel the back of my head in the mud, I could feel it seeping through the hair on my soft cunt, I could feel it all down my back, and I could feel the wet dirt of it creeping between my buttocks, covering my ass. He fucked me steadily and calmly, letting me build up to another peak before he extended any tremendous amounts of energy himself. He was a consummate tease and a thoroughly wonderful fuck.
I could feel the juice spilling out of me and mingling with the mud beneath me as he fucked me harder. His cock seemed to grow now with the motion of his pumping hips and as it thickened and grew longer, I gyrated my hips around it more vigorously. As I moved I could feel the cool slime of the mud crawling over my skin, I could feel it being ground into the skin of my buttocks and my entire back. And the feel of it excited me terrifically. Again and again he came down onto me, came down strongly between my wide-open thighs, going deeper and deeper into the upper reaches of my snatch, and ground me down more and more forcefully into the mud.
And then, all of a sudden, as if he wanted to show me that it wasn't only me he wanted to make muddy, not only me that he wanted to smear with the filth of the earth but himself also, he adeptly spun over onto his back-still without taking his cock out-and installed me on top of him. In this new position, his cock seemed to get higher up into me, and I greedily sat down onto it with all my weight. But perhaps even more exciting than the feel of his prick was the thought that now it was his back that was in the mud, now he was the one who was on the bottom, and now it was his back, his hair, his ass that was feeling the slimy intrusion of the mud.
Turned on beyond words by this thought, I began gyrating my hips as hard as I could. Sitting straight down on him, digging my hard hands firmly into the strong muscles of his belly, I worked my cunt around that rock like piece of meat for all I was worth. Farther and farther up it went, more and more it filled the narrowing at the end of my cunt, and fired by the image of him lying there in the mud, and the feel of the mud now drying on my own back and being melted again by the sweat that was now pouring off me because of my fucking, I worked harder and harder. I felt a huge orgasm welling up in me, I felt that at any moment I could just change the rhythm and bring the orgasm about, but I didn't want to change anything. I wanted to go like this, build the pressure up more and more until I thought I would burst, and then let the orgasm overtake me all at once.
I was sweating profusely now, I could never remember having worked so hard for a fuck. The sweat was running off me in dirty rivulets of caked mud, but still I worked and still I moved my hips. I could barely draw breath. I looked down and saw my own breasts throbbing wildly with the efforts of my breathing. But I was determined not to stop until the biggest orgasm I had ever felt had welled up to the point where it would rack my whole frame. I humped again and again, sat down onto him more and more fiercely, dug my pelvic bones into his hips cruelly, I didn't care, I just wanted to get every last millimeter of his prick into me.
And then it happened, the long rise, the slow release, the final fluttering, the final spastic spasms that started out from my cunt, deep up in my cunt and radiated out into my entire body, making my breasts cleave apart with the force of it, making my shoulders shake and the air escape from between my teeth in a long low whistle. Then my lover, letting me savor the orgasm to its fullest, remained perfectly still while the energy rolled out of me, while the sap flowed out of me in one slow gush over onto the steaming pole of his cock, and then, when the peak was passed, when the orgasm was beginning its downhill phase he pulled me down onto his sweaty chest and rolling me over and over again in the mud, he let me enjoy the orgasm down to its last pulse. I was coming and coming and coming, as he spun me over the mud, as we rolled over the beach like two animals. And finally, when I thought my joy was thoroughly spent, I felt his sperm coming into me hot and thick in long gushes, and though I had no idea where the energy came from, the spurting of his come sent me off into yet one more delightful orgasm.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Between all the riding I'd done and all the fucking that had awaited me at the end of the road I was good and tired, and as soon as I was finished with that delightful mud bath I just slipped off into the camp ground and went straight to sleep. I can never remember having such a peaceful and relaxing night's sleep-I don't think I moved a muscle the entire night. There's a wonderful kind of exhaustion that overtakes you after lots of riding, a physical exhaustion that is somehow added to by a mental peace-you know you've covered lots of ground, and it's a wonderful restful feeling.
In the morning I woke up feeling as fresh as a little kid. It was a beautiful day-sunny, clear and not too hot-and I was eager to get on the road again as quickly as I could. What I thought I'd do was just take a little skinny-dip in the pond, wake myself up and start the day off right with a little bath. I didn't even want to hang around for breakfast, I was so eager to get on the road. I thought I'd chalk up sixty or seventy miles and then stop at a diner somewhere. Even after just one full day's riding, I really felt like I was a road kind of person, the motorcycle already seemed to be an integral part of me.
So I walked on down to the pond and took off my clothes and got ready to wade on in. I was in just barely up to my knees when I looked further into the pond and saw one of the prettiest little girls I'd ever seen swimming around like a sort of mermaid. I stood there for a few minutes and just watched her. She was so beautiful that the excitement I felt;-initially at least-wasn't even sexual, just a calm kind of appreciation, like the way you might look at a beautiful painting or sculpture. She seemed very slender and young, and she frisked in the water like some sort of sea nymph. Her movements were all graceful and playful, and her long blond hair streamed behind her as she swam. She really was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I figured she didn't know she was being watched--she was just so totally at ease with herself that I couldn't imagine that she knew I was looking at her. She would swim around for a few minutes, making little circles in the water, the drops flying from her feet as she kicked around boldly. Then she would stop for a while and tread water, wringing her hair out over her shoulders with one hand while staying afloat with the other. While she treaded water her small firm breasts bobbed above the water line, and I would get occasional glimpses of her very light pink nipples poking out above the green foam.
Well, never being one to admire beauty from too great a distance, I started wading out to where she was. When she caught sight of me, she didn't seem to be at all embarrassed by my presence-on the contrary, she seemed delighted to have a playmate in that wonderful pond. She gave me a big hello and then she asked me if that was my motorcycle that she had seen parked in the campground. I told her it was, and I felt a surge of pride as I did so. She herself seemed very excited to hear that a woman rode a motorcycle-although she was incredibly ballsy in her own way, as I was later to find out. The thought of a woman owning a big cycle had never occurred to her. Like most girls-even the sexiest and most aggressive ones-she had never quite made the connection between femininity and riding bikes. So she was very intrigued by the fact that it was my bike, and I could tell that she immediately wanted to get to know me better. That was just fine with me, since as I moved closer to her she seemed more and more beautiful and the initial calm appreciation of her body that I had felt was gradually changing to a sort of lecherous desire just to grab hold of her beautiful small breasts with their pink nipples, to run my hand over her smooth young skin and to see just how developed her hips and her thighs and her pussy were. But I didn't move too fast-after all, she only seemed to be about sixteen at the most, and I certainly didn't want to scandalize or frighten the poor young creature.
So we stood there in the water for a few minutes casually talking about motorcycles, briefly telling each other the story of our lives. And though the talk was very calm and low-keyed, I noticed that a couple of times Susie was staring rather brazenly at my full breasts which were being supported by the water, and floating there at an angle which I must admit was quite lovely. But we talked, and didn't admit to each other that we were craving lesbian sex. I learned from Susie that she had run away from home about six months ago. She had had enough of school and enough of the restrictions of her parents, and she just wanted to be off on her own. She told me that she had had lots of adventures-sexual adventures, she said-and as she told me this she gave me a searching and rather playful stare that made me quite confident that we would be lovers in just a few minutes.
Well, after the conversation had gone on for a while it got plainer and plainer that we were really hot for each other. I saw her sweet pink nipples get firmer above the water line, and I could just envision her sweet young pussy warmly wet beneath the surface of the water. I could envision the tender new hair on it, hair that as I remembered from my own adolescence would just be beginning to curl, that would not yet have wound itself into the tight knots of a mature woman's cunt hair but which would still be soft and lush and beginning to curl at the ends, yet still be enticingly straight for much of its length. And of course it would not be as thick yet as the bush of a grown woman, and so the plump pink flesh of her labia would be delightfully visible.
I was getting so involved in these fantasies that I felt my own cunt begin to twitch, and so it was no wonder that the conversation began to lag. It was very difficult to keep up a stream of pleasant chatter while I was feeling myself get hot, and soon I reached the point where I wanted just to reach out and grab this sweet young thing and get something started. But still I restrained myself-robbing the cradle has never been my thing, that is, of course, unless the cradle asks to be robbed.
Well, what ended up happening was that Susie asked me in the coyest sweetest voice that I'd ever heard how to play shark.
"Shark?" said I.
"Yeah, sharks. It's a game where you stand in the water, and spread your legs out real wide and I come along and swim between them. Want to play?"
"Sure," I said.
So we waded in together to where the water was just a wee bit shallower, so that I could stand with my legs spread wide apart and the water just barely covering my tits. Susie, who seemed to have a knack for teasing way beyond her years, started off way far away, so that I'd have a few titillating moments watching her swim toward me before she actually swam through my legs. I didn't expect her to do anything with my cunt-I couldn't imagine that she's be quite that forward-but just the thought of having that tender young body swimming between my thighs, the thought of those slender but strong legs kicking their way between my legs, working the cool water around me, whipping the ripples against my cunt and my thighs like some sort of whirlpool bath-the whole idea excited me greatly, and even though I didn't expect anything more of it than a little head thrill, I felt my pussy grow wetter with anticipation. I watched her as she swam toward me, cutting through the water like a wonderful aquatic creature and then, a couple of yards be-fore she reached me, she dove deep under the surface and came toward me under the murky-green of the pond.
But instead of just swimming between my legs, as I thought she would do, she managed to work her hands along the insides of my thighs and ass. The contact might have been accidental-Susie was such an excellent tease that even at this point I couldn't quite be sure if she was fucking me or only playing her innocent little child's game. When she surfaced a few yards in back of me I heard her voice telling me to turn around so she could swim back. So I did, spreading my legs out even wider this time, feeling my-feet sink into the sensuous slime of the bottom. She came toward me again, and this time there could be no question-that nibbling that I felt between my legs was no child's game, and was no hungry little fish either; it was Susie toying with my clit, taking my pulsating nub between her lips and toying with it there beneath the water.
Susie must have been raised in the water, because she managed to stay down there for what seemed like an incredibly long time, eating me as naturally as could be, working me into a veritable lather in one deep breath. Looking' down into the water, I saw her whole body writhing with delight, with the excitement of eating a woman's cunt, especially a woman who was manly enough to ride a motorcycle. It thrilled me to realize that she was so excited by me and I felt my juices flow more freely, spilling out into her mouth, spilling out into the cool water of the pond.
Finally she came up for air and stood standing close against me. She was considerably shorter than I but since I had my legs spread so far out we were almost exactly the same height. I reached my arms around her slender back and pulled her close to me in a tender but firm embrace. And I could feel her small and amazingly firm young tits brush against my own heavier ones. It is a remarkable sensation, and one of the utter joys of lesbianism-to feel another woman's breasts against your own, to feel the firm flesh of her nipples pressing against the ever so sensitive flesh of your own, and to feel the slight yielding that occurs on both sides when two tits meet. But Susie, being so young and apparently so athletic, had the firmest pair of breasts that I have ever felt-they didn't yield at all, and yet somehow they were wonderfully soft, the nipples were so hard that they pressed right into mine but in a way that suggested the most wonderful little-girl sort of tenderness. We stayed in the embrace for a long time, the shared sensations sending ripples down through the in sides of our breasts, down our bodies to our eve hotter pussies.
And then, slowly, with the confidence an sureness of touch of a much more experienced woman, Susie withdrew one of her hands fro around my back and slipped it gently between my wide-open legs. Always the tease, she at just pulled at my pubic hair, sending luscious little stings through my skin, stings which somehow seemed to feel into the very depths o my snatch. Working her fingers through my cunt hair as lovingly as if it were the curls of loved one's head she let the folds of my puss-ripple between her soft young fingers. I could feel the juice pouring out of me more and mo-thickly, and it seemed to be providing a sort o pomade for my hair. I seemed to be turning out a very special sort of cunty tonic! Gradually she arranged her fingers so that the two middle on were spreading apart the folds of my cunt lips were lying wide open as she rubbed the: back and forth and the cool water was tickling the inside of my pussy. Forced up me by the gentle but insistent pressure of her hand friggin back and forth, the water climbing more an more highly up my hole, reaching higher and higher up toward the deep insides of my puss and as it climbed higher I felt myself growing more excited. This young seemingly innocent girl, by the expert motion of her hand, was actually fucking me with water! She was actually using the pond itself to fuck me, to fill my pussy And although the water had neither the wonderful hardness of a cock, nor the wonderful playfulness of a tongue and lips, it had a remarkable attraction, a sensation that was at once natural and yet very perverse-the water was inanimate, seemingly shapeless and yet it conformed to the folds of my cunt, it climbed up among my inner tissues in whatever shape they demanded while at the same time exerting a gentle and cool pressure of its own.
She diddled me that way for a while, fucked me with the water while we still stood there embracing nipple to nipple, and then she brought her fingers into play. Not even bothering to take a tentative plunge with one, she immediately thrust two fingers up inside me-I suppose I have the image of a woman with a big cunt, a woman for whom one finger is not even a warm-up. Some women have that image I know and I flatter myself that perhaps I'm one of them. One look at them is enough to tell you they've got big stretched-out holes, pussies that are huge partly because the women who own them are just made to fuck, the women are all cunt and the size of their actual box proves it. So Susie must have known that I was one of those insatiable women because she started me off with two fingers, and before I even got used to the pressure of those she introduced a third. It amazed me that someone so young could have such an amazing intuitive grasp of the essential brutality of finger fucking. Working her hand in and out of me, the pressure of the fingers combined with the ever increasing slap of the water and I could feel myself mounting toward orgasm.
I generally don't come so quickly-when I come, I really come but it takes awhile to get me there; I like lots of fucking, and before letting my orgasm go I hold out for as much as I can get. But there was something so exquisite, so wonderfully perverse about the fingers of this young girl and the mind work that went into her fucking that I felt myself reaching a peak of excitement from only a couple of minutes of her diddling.
And it must have been that her intuition extended itself even to knowing just when to increase the pressure because at the exact moment that I would have wished for even a bit more straining inside my cunt, she introduced a fourth finger! All four fingers of her right hand were inside me now and she brought them up into me very hard, with all the strength of her firm young arms, brought the fingers up into me so far that I could feel the knuckles of the palm of her hand thrusting up against the outside of my twat. Again and again she brought her hard fingers up into me, being less and less the coy young tease and more and more the gentle but in some way bitchy young lesbian.
I suddenly felt an irresistible desire to eat her pussy, to taste her juices-the sweet new juices of a young girl, juices which have not yet developed the fishy tang of a mature woman's cunt, but which have a wonderfully fresh and new taste, the taste of a cunt just coming to life. I was so overwhelmed with the desire to eat her cunt that the sensation of her fingers still fucking me were almost secondary-though of course it was the excitement of her fingers that made me think of her pussy in the first place. But at this point, all I could think of was burying my face into her sweet young muff, sticking my tongue up into her hole as far as it could go, nibbling at her clit and the wonderful smooth edges of her lips with my teeth. There was nothing else in the world that I wanted, except to lay her down and lay my head between her legs, reach around her ass with my hands, and knead the firm flesh of her buttocks while I sucked at her cunt.
So I reluctantly backed away from the wonderful pressure of her hand, and grabbing her decisively by her arm above her elbow I began wading toward shore, roughly towing her behind as if she were some sort of small boat-or maybe it was more like the mama duck leading the baby duck for a fuck.
Once we reached the shore, I decided that I wanted to be the one in charge. I had tremendously enjoyed putting myself in the hands, as it were, of this aggressive and intriguing young girl, but now I knew exactly what I wanted and I wanted to go about the shortest way of getting it. So I roughly threw her down onto the muddy bank of the pond, and followed her down there myself, falling onto my knees roughly. But even this didn't shock her, she apparently was just as worldly at sixteen as I had been. No doubt she too had been through her initiation of fucking in the corn fields, of being abused and loving it by the first man and no doubt by a great number of them since. Well, I arranged her just as I wanted her there on the ground-I put her on her side and curled her up, the perfect position for a little sixty-nine. Once I had her exactly how I wanted her, I arranged myself against her-I brazenly and without any sort of prelude ground my hips into her face and at the same time I thrust my own head down between her thighs, and immediately began sucking at her pussy.
She was amazingly wet. The lips of her cunt were swollen from the sheer pressure of the juices within it and her sweet immature blondish hair was matted down and gushing from its supply of stored cunt sap. Crazed by the feel and the taste of this young snatch, I worked my tongue in and out of her hole as hard and as fast as I could. The tightness of the hole, its elasticity-the entire feel of it reminded me of my own at the age of sixteen, and at least part of the rapture I felt was pure narcissism. In a way, it was as if I were eating my own pussy! It was as if I were going back several years in time, to the point where I myself was first discovering all the wonders of sex, even before I had discovered how wonderful another woman's body can be, and I was working on myself-it was as if I had myself, my girlhood, laid out there on the muddy bank, free to do whatever I wanted with her! It was a wonderfully perverse sensation, and the head thrill of it made me bob my head between her legs with all the more force; it made my tongue flick in and out of the pink tissue of her snatch with ever greater urgency.
At the same time, Susie was eating my cunt with tremendous abandon, and almost to my surprise, I realized that she was every bit as adept with her mouth as she was with her hands. Teasing me along, she worked her tongue around the perimeter of my snatch, worked the slippery tip of it over the raggedy insides of my cunt lips, flicked very gently at my clit but with her teasing way, never went deep into my hole, and never decisively seized my clit between her teeth or lips. She was out to tease me, to play with my cunt, to savor it in her own way and to give me no choice but to savor slowly the sensation that she was offering. Our styles of eating pussy contrasted exquisitely-I was sucking hot and heavy, she was licking and playing with admirable restraint, and the contrast added to the excitement. Although she was the younger, I was the one who was going at it with all the vigor of a sex-crazed adolescent, and she was the one who was as cool and collected and conscious of just what was happening as if she herself were a consummate whore with lots of experience behind her.
But the thrill of having her cunt eaten by a motorcycle-riding woman began to erode her restraint and I noticed with satisfaction that it was becoming harder and harder to play the role of the cool laid-back kind of whore she was trying to be. I could feel that her tongue was beginning to flutter spastically as the sensations J was pouring into her cunt traveled up her body and made every inch of her quiver with excitement. No longer did she lick my cunt quite so easily or calmly-now she was getting to the point where she would dare to put her tongue deep up into me, letting me feel the pressure against my walls. And also, as if she could no longer help herself, she took what by now was my swollen and very pulsating clit between her teeth, and nibbled it rhythmically, letting the sharp edges of her front teeth torture the root of it, letting the inside of her teeth rub back wonderfully over the tip of it. No one knows how to eat a woman quite as well as a woman-there is a wonderful sort of communication between clits, and a woman's mouth can seem always to figure out exactly what a clit needs. I was being eaten so exquisitely that the act of eating her in return came to seem almost like a sacred duty-she was giving me so much pleasure that my whole being yearned to reciprocate. Accordingly I worked her cunt more and more thoroughly. As if guided by some sort of horny radar, I could feel my tongue and teeth instinctively finding the very most sensitive pieces of her snatch. I had my arms wrapped around her, and I worked the firm flesh of her ass while I ate her. And then it occurred to me to toy with the little pink toy of her asshole while I ate her. I let my fingers wander down to that wonderful, remarkably tight sphincter, and I tortured it gently while eating her cunt. Responding well to this added little bit of horniness, I could feel her juices spurt afresh, and the taste of them seemed to grow somehow riper, somehow sharper, as if her wonderful young body was maturing there in the very act of sixty-nining on the bank!
We were both mounting toward orgasm, and interlocked as we were,, we both began to rock in a sort of fetal rhythm-but the rhythm was not like the fetus in the womb, it was not a return to the womb that was making us rock, but rather the taste of the womb, the taste and the feel of those primeval juices and primeval tissue that made up women, and that made us hunger for each other. More and more firmly we gripped each other's ass, pulling our soaked crotches into the other's face with as much strength as we had. Mercilessly, we ground our groins into the other's face, our faces were covered with each other's cunt juice, and our pussies were spread wide apart from the pressure of lips and chins and noses. We reached such a state of excitement that it was impossible to tell whether we were getting eaten by teeth or tongue or lips-the pressure that we exerted against each other's twat was such that it almost felt as if we had each other's entire face inside of us! I felt as if I were being fucked by the tender cylinder of her nose, I felt as if I were being fingered by the wonderful roundness of her chin! Her forehead was on me, I thought I felt her eyelashes flutter against the tender spread-open tissue of my snatch! Harder and harder we pressed against each other, I ran my face over her twat till my very hairline was soaked with her cunt sap. And then the inevitable sensations started-the quivers began deep inside my cunt and fluttered through my entire body, fluttered with such grinding passion that I imagined her very face must be sharing in the orgasm. I pictured circular hot ripples pulsing out of my snatch and engulfing her face! And whether or not it was my orgasm that brought on hers, I could feel her pulses beginning as well. She ground her snatch against my face even harder and I heard a long low whistle escape from between her clenched teeth. We spurted our final juices into each other's mouth-the pressure was built up so terrifically that when we finally did come we actually spurted juices like men, and then we lay back on the bank, our heads resting on each other's thighs, satisfied in the total enjoyment of a lesbian fuck.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We lay there for a while catching our breath and letting each other's pussy juice dry out on our faces, making a crinkly but very pleasant film over our skin, and then Susie asked me where I was headed. I told her that I was eventually headed for the West Coast, but that I was mostly just into riding and I didn't really care where I ended up when. She told me that she too was on her way out to San Francisco, to meet up with some friends from back home in Minnesota, and that if I were looking for a traveling companion she could promise me companionship along the way and a good hot time once we got to Frisco. Well that was an offer I couldn't refuse -I had enjoyed Susie so much, that the thought of having a few more cracks at her along the road suited me just fine-and besides it would be nice to have someone along for the ride. So I told Susie that she was more than welcome to come along, that I expected that she would like the cycle just fine, and so we just gathered up our things and took off together.
Well just as I expected, as soon as Susie go onto the bike she fell in love with it. Her initial reaction seemed to be just like my own-she loved the idea of having something so big and powerful between her legs and when I started it up and we rumbled down the dirt road toward the highway she just laughed aloud with the sheer pleasure of it, "Oh God, this feels wonderful," she said.
"Hell, Susie, this is like one big vibrator or wheels. Wait till we pick up some speed, the rumble of the engine will shake your ass and rut your cunt for you like you've never felt before.
So we took off down the road, and it wasn't too long before I figured out that Susie was just sitting back there masturbating. That girl had wonderful approach to things, let me tell you. could just picture her sitting back there, casually looking at the scenery, feeling the hot road wind that came up off the pavement, letting it blow up her legs, up under her short skirt onto her cunt, and just casually diddling herself, as calmly as could be while we rode along. She was a girl after my own heart, a real insatiable ready-for-any-thing kind of young woman, and I was really glad to have her along. It sort of amazed me that she had started playing with herself so soon after that whopping orgasm she had had in my face, but I've never had anything against the notion of girls being greedy-after all one of the major advantages of being female is that the number of orgasms you can have is practically unlimited! So I just drove the bike, enjoying the riding my own way-which is to say watching the scenery, really digging the idea of being in control of so much power and speed, and letting the vibration of the bike subtly work its way through my whole body, not in any way that immediately made me hot, but in a way that kept me subtly in touch with all my feelings and that let me build up the kind of horniness that I knew I'd feel at the end of the day's riding.
We rode damn near across all of Texas that day, past the endless acres of red clay and the miles and miles of cattle fences, and by the time we stopped for lunch, we were pretty close to the New Mexico border. We stopped at a diner and the two of us packed away half a dozen hamburgers, a few milkshakes, and half of an apple pie between us-it seemed like all of Susie's appetites were pretty big and that matched mine as well. Fucking, eating, excitement, riding-everything that could be enjoyed in life should be enjoyed to the fullest, I always say.
After lunch, Susie and I let fly a couple of good healthy belches-already we were as un-self-conscious with each other as if we were old friends-and then we headed back to the bike and got on the road again. We finished off the last little bit of western Texas and before we knew it we were in the flat bright desert of New Mexico. There's a speed limit down there, but it's basically a joke-the roads were so empty that there's really no reason to go slow. All you see is an occasional semi-trailer, and of course here or there a motorcycle or two, but it's really every man-or woman-for himself down there, and so there was really no trouble at all in going about ninety or ninety-five along those straight flat desert roads. Susie was loving it-she had never been on a cycle before at all and the initiation of being driven through the desert at ninety-five is a thrill even for ah experienced cyclist. x
As we got farther into New Mexico I started hearing a funny little sound in the, engine. It seemed as if something was dragging, as if one of the cylinders was misfiring. But not wanting to take any chances, I pulled off the highway at Tucumcari and went off in search of a mechanic.
Now I'm not knocking the town of Tucumcari but let me tell you it's not the most promising place in the world to have to go looking for a motorcycle mechanic. A decent mechanic is hard enough to find, even in most big cities, but in a town in the middle of the desert, forget it. I had perused just about every street I could find, and I was just on the verge of giving up and trying . to limp with the misfiring cylinder all the way to Albuquerque when I saw a big old chopper clop parked in the street. I looked up at the house in front of which the chopper was parked, and I saw a dirty-looking young man in the garage. So, never being very shy about asking favors-especially since I'm always so willing to do favors in return-I just parked the bike and went up to him and asked him if he'd take a look. . I must have exceptionally good luck about such things, because it turned out that-in addition to being one hell of a stud as I was soon to find out-this guy was a really expert mechanic.
As a matter of fact, he had been scrambling bikes for years, and always did his own work. And since he turned Out to be as handy with a wrench as he later turned out to be with a dildo, it was no time at all before the problem was taken care of.
As I had thought, it turned out to be nothing more serious than a couple of fouled plugs-this is a problem that is very common in new bikes. It's not caused by any real mechanical trouble, just a little clumsiness in the machinery before the parts get really used to working with each other. So it was just a small matter for Joe to lift the bike up onto the stand, take the plugs out and examine them, and replace them after doing a nice thorough job of cleaning out the gaps.
But being one to do thorough work, he thought he might have a more thorough look at my engine while he had the thing up on the stand. In an amazingly short amount of time, he had practically the whole bike disassembled-I couldn't help being a little bit nervous about that, to tell you the truth-I mean I had just bought the thing and here was this guy taking it apart-but it was so obvious that he knew what he was doing that I really didn't mind. He looked over each and every part of it, with the eye of a connoisseur, and then he put everything back together promising me that it would work not as good as new, but better.
Well the whole time he had been working on the bike, Susie and I had been standing over him checking him out. He worked bare-chested, wearing nothing but an old pair of cutoff jeans, and he had the muscles of a man who had driven a lot of bikes, worked on a lot of bikes, and done all kinds of physical work. He had very broad shoulders and very thick arms and as he worked with his screwdriver and his wrench, the ripples of muscle could be seen in his forearm. He was so involved in his work, that he seemed not to notice us checking him out, but the two of us were feasting our eyes on him and giving each other little side glances now and then. We both wanted to fuck him, and with our eyes alone Susie and I tried to work out a strategy by which we might seduce him.
Susie and I were both horny again in our different ways and for our different reasons-Susie was good and lathered up from masturbating the whole time on the bike, and I was really turned on by the subtler vibrations of riding the thing. And of course the memory of our delightful 69 earlier that morning kept us constantly excited. So we gobbled up the sight of Joe as he crouched down over the bike-we looked over his broad back and glistening muscles, and we kept our eyes glued to the promising lump that he seemed to have in his cutoffs. He just seemed like the kind of guy who would have a big cock and would know how to use it.
Well, after he was done working "on the bike Joe looked up at us and said in a very jovial, host-like manner, "Well ladies, that should take care of the bike. Why don't you come into the house and have a little beer as a refresher."
Well, Susie and I accepted it immediately. The beer would be perfect after the hot ride but our main intention was to work him one notch closer to the bedroom. I say bedroom figuratively, we would have just as soon fucked him in the living room or in the backyard or right there in the garage if he wanted to-it didn't make a whole lot of difference, as long as we got some good action off of that strong body of his.
So the three of us went into the house and Susie and I collapsed rather provocatively on the sofa while Joe went into the kitchen to get some beers. He came back with a six-pack and sitting down on the couch between us, we got into a casual conversation, mostly about motorcycles.
While the conversation was going on, Susie and I were busy plotting our strategy about seducing Joe, but-wouldn't you know it-Susie came up with the perfect intuitive strategy long before I had thought of anything. While reaching over to light herself a cigarette she "accidentally" spilled her beer right in Joe's crotch causing him to jump around and squirm as the cold brew hit his hot cock. Well, from there on in we had him! Reaching over him very solicitously, Susie said, "Oh gee, I'm sorry. Let me dry you off." And she leaned over and with a paper napkin, she started rubbing his cutoffs very vigorously.
It didn't take long for the lump in Joe's pants to change into a real bulge, a veritable mountain inside his cutoff pants. Apparently he was one of those guys who liked having his cock rubbed-as if there were any other kind. But he didn't want to move too quickly, after all, he must have thought, just like I had thought, that Susie was kind of young for this kind of thing. But Susie kept rubbing away, rubbing so firmly that the napkin went to shreds in her hands, and she was left pretty much rubbing the crotch of Joe's jeans with the palm of her hand!
At this point Joe's confusion became pretty obvious-he didn't know whether he was getting jacked off in some teasing way or whether this was some dumb virgin who didn't know what she was doing. It was sort of funny to watch, as he did his best to try to look like he wasn't excited. But no matter how well he controlled his face, that bulging prick in his pants, which was now throbbing as well as bulging, let us know that he was indeed enjoying it. So finally I took mercy on his confusion, and decided to end the game. The way I did it was just to tear off my shirt as casually as you please. It was just one of those light T-shirts that I wear on the road. They're wonderful because they let the breeze strike your tits as well as if you were nude-and I just reached down and grabbed the waist and pulled it over my head in one pull, practically shoving my tits in his face as I did so.
That must have been a pretty good way of dispelling Joe's confusion, because he just reached out for one of my nipples with his mouth as confidently as if he had known exactly what was happening all along. I like a man who can take a hint. I teased him a little, swaying my body away from him so that my nipple ran along his lips but refused to plop in between his lips where he wanted it. He craned his neck, he pursed his lips, he gnashed out like a hungry lion, but still the nipple evaded him. I was having a wonderful time, because I love to play the tease, and partly because the sensation of his tongue and lips just barely skimming over my fleeing nipple was wonderful. But finally I gave him his just reward-a nice whole mouth full of tit. When he finally got the nipple, so grateful and so hungry that he sucked it very hard into his mouth-so hard that a little bit of my breast followed it, filling his lips, even making his cheeks puff out with the generous voluptuousness of my flesh.
Seeing him sitting there with my tit in his mouth, Susie figured she might as well dive right in too-if I had my shirt off, there certainly was no reason for his cock to keep hiding coyly in his pants. So, with great dexterity, she unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zipper and in a matter of a second or two his cock was standing up full staff and exposed. And let me tell you, it was a wonderful tool. They say a mechanic is only as good as his tools and if that's any criterion, this guy must have been pretty goddamn good! It was big and thick-the minimum requirements for a good cock-but in addition it had a wonderful shape, a wonderful arching curve that I could tell would spread out the premises of my cunt in a most wonderful fashion. It arched upward proudly, as if it were doing a swan dive at the universe, as if it were a proud gymnast who would do its stuff to an open cunt.
I looked down at it while having my breast sucked and seeing Susie's hand on it-that same sweet young hand that earlier that morning had been working my twat so vigorously--I just felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Here I had a motorcycle, a beautiful bisexual lover, and a handsome young stud who had just fixed my motorcycle for me! Isn't life wonderful.
Susie soon decided to bring her mouth down on that beautiful heap of flesh and Joe must have liked that, because as soon as her lips first made contact with the head of his cock, he increased the pressure on my nipple. He was very generous with his teeth and lips-a little light on the tongue play, but when you're getting so delightfully chewed up, who minds? I just sat there, very turned on but in a very calm way, looking down at these two as if they were my children, as if they were my brood. Susie worked her head up and down very rhythmically over the shaft of Joe's penis, and I was amazed at how much of it she could fit in her mouth. For a young girl, she certainly could fuck, and she certainly seemed to know all the tricks. I myself started getting hungry for a little taste of cock, because as I watched it slip between her lips, I imagined the wonderful full feeling that it must be giving her mouth. I've always been very fond of sucking cock myself-there's a unique sensation about having the entire girth of it rubbing against the insides of one's cheeks and finally wedging itself at the snug place at the back of the mouth-and I began to crave a taste of that sweet flesh myself.
Susie must have believed in the notion of share and share alike because as soon as I brought my face down into Joe's crotch, she generously moved her head out of the way and let me have a nibble. This was an extra turn-on, because in addition to having the pressure and the feel of Joe's cock, it was covered with Susie's saliva. This excited me very much, almost in the same way as eating her pussy had; I was eating another woman's juices and in this case the juices were embellishing an already magnificent cock. It reminded me of one of the things I had done while hooking-a man and a woman came to me and my job was to lick the come out of the woman's cunt after the man had fucked her. There always seemed something exquisitely perverse about this, something very dirty-it's the notion, I suppose, of getting seconds at something, of having to come along and do the cleanup work after someone else has had their fun. It makes me feel used and very dirty, an almost subhuman sexual object, and I love it. So there was an extra thrill for me in sucking Joe's cock, and as if sensing that and wishing to increase my pleasure still more, he fanned the head of his cock out-in my mouth, letting it press against my tongue and the roof of my mouth, filling the entire orifice.
Susie took the opportunity of my relieving her at cocksucking to slip out of her clothes-she didn't have very much to take off. In one sweep the thin cotton blouse that she'd been wearing was over her head and tossed across the room, and with one quick zip her short skirt fell to the floor. She now stood before us nude, and both of us enjoyed looking at her tremendously. Her light pink nipples were totally erect, and the slender lines of her body looked as wonderful here inside in soft light as they had outside at the pond. The hair of her cunt was soaked again-her cunt seemed to ,turn out juices as copiously as my own. She stood there nude, posing for us in a subtle but unquestionably exhibitionistic manner, looking for an opening to get back into the fray.
She soon had one. My cunt was sopping wet, and I was eager to get out of my leather riding pants before the sap soaked through them. I've got nothing against letting people know that my cunt is wet, but staining my brand new leather pants with the overflow of my juices seemed a bit gauche, I must admit. So, not without a certain amount of regret, I stood up, letting Joe's cock slide languorously out of my mouth as I rose, and slipped out of my pants. As soon as Joe's cock was vacated, Susie swooped down on it, straddling Joe where he sat there on the couch. I remembered how tight her young cunt was but it must have been awfully flexible, because she plopped herself right down onto Joe's meat, and I saw the entire length of it disappear in a flash. It gave me the chills to think back to when my own cunt was sixteen years old, and to realize the tremendous stretch and then the wonderful letting pro she must be feeling as she sat on a cock so big! By the time I had managed to wiggle out of my pants the two of them had begun a gentle humping rhythm, with Joe letting his hips bob up and down while Susie rotated hers in a kind of waltz tempo.
Now I was the one on the outside and it was my turn to try to figure out a way back in. But I've never been one to despair in these situations-I've found that when it comes to fucking where there's a will there's a way. So I just nonchalantly walked around to the back of the sofa and taking Joe by the hair, pulled his head back so that I could have a convenient shot of flinging my leg over it and sitting my twat down on top of his mouth. He didn't mind-as a matter of fact he seemed to like the idea of me pulling his hair and he began going after my cunt as eagerly as he had gone after my breast. And as if by some sort of sympathetic vibrations, Susie increased the pace of her humping as she saw my twat being eaten. She must have known how good I was feeling and she matched her movements to make herself feel every bit as good, maybe even better.
We stayed like that for awhile, Joe syncopating the movement of his tongue and of his hips. I could visualize his cock stuck far up into Susie-I could even see the shifting lump in her tummy from where his cock stretched her from inside! She was very slender, and his cock was very big-it was a perfect match-and for me there was almost as much pleasure in the voyeuristic thrill of actually seeing a woman getting fucked from the inside as there was in having my cunt eaten.
But after awhile Joe drew his face away and said that we have to excuse him for a minute, he wanted to go into the garage' for a minute and get a tool that he thought might come in handy.
Susie and I both thought this a little strange, but of course we were willing to try anything. So he got up-gracefully spilling Susie onto the couch as he did so-and walked off to the garage, his firmly erect cock pointing the way. Susie and I casually diddled each other while he was gone, but more than anything else we were curious about the sort of device he would return with. As you may recall from my defloration with the hairbrush, I've always been fond of dildos; there is something exquisitely perverse about a mechanical fuck-it's very unnatural, and it proves that really what a woman needs is a nice hard cylindrical object, just anything to plug up that hole that is the center of all her cravings. I have to confess, though, that I was a little concerned about how Susie would react-after all she was only sixteen, and as well-versed in the sexual arts as she seemed to be, knowing one's way around dildos at the age of sixteen is quite amazingly precocious. c
Joe returned in a minute or two, and my suspicions about his intentions were verified. He held in his hand a very long and rather thick arched piece of metal. It was not quite like anything I'd ever seen before-it was perhaps 18 inches long, and at either end of it there was a slight widening-rather like the head of a cock, to tell you the truth. It was perfectly symmetrical, so that both ends came up in an equal curve. I wondered where I had seen that curve before, and then I remembered that it was the exact curve that made Joe's prick so utterly attractive! That fucking narcissist had made his own double dildo and had modeled each half of it on his own cock! Now I've heard of men who love their cocks, but this beat all!
Well, no matter how perverse it was or maybe because it was so perverse, I felt my cunt get even wetter from the mere sight of the thing. As I've said, a dildo is so unnatural and a metal dildo seemed to be the most unnatural of all. For metal has connotations of being cold and utterly mechanical-it's what motorcycles are made of, but it's hard to imagine being fucked by something metal. There was something very bizarre about it and it was also part of the turn-on. When I looked up at Susie, I saw an incredibly horny look on her face-perhaps she was shocked, but if she was it was in the same way I was, in the direction of sheer craving, sheer animal horniness.
Joe stood between us, brandishing the double dildo as if it were a gun or a sort of wondrous toy.
"Like it?" he asked. But neither Susie nor I could manage to speak, we were too horny and too amazed by the bizarreness of it all.
"Well," he said, "I'll show you how it works." "By the way, I designed and built it myself. I'm very proud of my dildos, almost as proud as I am of my cock. And I promise you that it will do a very thorough job for the both of you."
Rather roughly, Joe guided us both down onto the rug in the middle of the room. He set us up so that we were sitting facing each other, our legs spread so that our thighs lay over each other. We sat so that both our cunts were wide open and spread there on the rug. He was thoroughly in control now, we were being used by him, we were being used to provide a show for him, to let him see how his self-designed dildo, the dildo that was modeled on his own prick, could fuck two women at once. He was using us both, using us as thoroughly as anyone had ever used me when I was a paid hooker.
When he had us arranged the way he wanted us he took the contraption and laid it between our thighs. He teased us with it, letting us feel the coldness of the metal on our legs before he put it into our cunts. Susie and I eyed each other lasciviously, both of us eager for the intrusion of the big unnatural cock. But Joe very much enjoyed his game, and he wasn't eager to give it to us too soon. He ran the twin heads over our legs, and then he let the cool knobs of metal rub up against our labia before he pushed them in. But then finally, he let one of The heads rest against each of our cunts. The pressure and the coolness and the thorough unyieldingness of the metal excited me terribly, it was the most unnatural thing I had ever seen and there was an extra thrill that I would be sharing it with Susie, and realizing that every movement that I made around the dildo would push it farther into her and that every time she squirmed it would fuck me. We would be fucking each other in as intimate and as shared a way as it was possible for two women to fuck! It would be as if we each had a cock and a cunt at the same time! As if we had finally managed to be perfect hermaphrodites-to fuck and be fucked at the same time!
Thinking these delightfully filthy thoughts and feeling the cool knob of the dildo against my cunt, I felt a new squirt of juices, a squirt viscous and full enough to lubricate my cunt even for a metal prick. I began pushing down onto it, realizing that each push of mine went a little ways toward pushing it into Susie. And I felt her pushing back! She was not one to be outdone in fucking, she was determined to exert as much pressure on that amazing metal dildo. With our combined efforts it wasn't long until we had taken in the entire length of the big filthy unnatural dick! There were perhaps two or three inches left between us-all the rest was inside us, divided fifty-fifty, half fucking her and half fucking me, and we both pressed down to try to use up those last two or three inches, so that our cunts would meet in the middle, so that our clits would rub together in addition to having the entire length of the foot and a half long prick inside us!
The metal of the dildo was absolutely unyielding and I could feel it pushing all my inner tissue aside, straining the walls, spreading the bones, rubbing hard against the nub of my uterus, but Susie and I wanted to take the entire thing into us, we wanted the feel of our clits rubbing together at the end of the road, it was an extra added thrill to realize that Susie, whose cunt was far younger and much less used than mine-must be feeling the pressure even more, that it must be hurting her at the same time that it filled her with such joy, that it must be stretching her more than she had ever been stretched before. Harder and harder we bore down, lifting our hips and grinding with more and more force there on the living-room rug and the whole time Joe stood above us looking down with a diabolical grin on his face, enjoying the incredibly perverse show so expertly arranged. It made me feel extremely filthy to be groveling there on the floor and to have him standing above us looking down on us, seeming very tall. The two of us pressed harder and harder, and though we were ever so close as to having the entire dildo in us, the unyieldingness of the metal made it seem like there was nowhere else that last inch or two could possibly go.
It was Susie who finally gave the last push. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly lifted herself off the floor with the sheer force of her hands and feet, and came crashing down onto it. The pressure which followed was so exquisite that I have no idea how either of us stood it. The metal seemed to press against our very bones, the fit was so tight that it seemed that our cunts had no upholstery, but were made only of bare bones and raw nerves! Susie opened her eyes after this incredible thrust and looked at me with a tremendously lascivious look on her face. I looked back at her and the two of us began moving our hips rhythmically, making use of the entire length of the dildo now that we had finally gotten it into ourselves. Our juices were flowing freely and they flowed over the entire length of the metal cock, making the whole thing slippery, like a well-oiled machine. And then of course there was the wonderful sensation of rubbing clits with Susie. The throbbing of my own clit was so intense that I could barely feel the throbbing of hers, but I was aware that it was tremendously puffy and swollen. She had had a good day's fucking, and of course she had been diddling herself during the whole time of the ride, she was insatiable, and it excited me to be on the other end of a dildo from her.
Joe now moved closer to us and thrust his cock lasciviously between our faces. We saw this third cock dangling in front of us, and both having the same idea at the exact instant, we brought our mouths down onto it. It was a wonderfully debauched sensation-we were half kissing each other on the mouth, and half sucking Joe's cock. At the same time we ground our hips more and more intensely, each fucking ourselves and fucking the other. And now we began to work our lips in earnest over the entire shaft. Each taking a side of his wonderfully long and curved dick, we ran our tongue and lips around it, giving him a double blow job, giving him two heads. His cock responded well to this double treatment-it was slightly stiffer than it had been, and had somehow added an inch to its already formidable length. Seeing this increase in the already large size of his cock gave Susie and I an extra impetus to fuck ourselves even harder on the dildo, and we increased our rhythm accordingly. u Harder and harder we worked ourselves there on the rug. Our bellies and thighs were covered with sweat, and our legs slid over each other as we ground our hips together. Joe's cock throbbed more and more, and the head of it turned a deeper and deeper red as his erection grew more and more promethean. Susie and I increased the pressure of our tongue and lips, and now we brought our teeth into play, each of us nibbling at the sides of his cock. I could feel the orgasm welling up in me, I could feel the pressure deep up in my cunt, and the onslaught of this huge metal dork and I imagined that Susie felt the exact same thing. Also the sight of Joe's scrotum which had grown incredibly heavy with sperm excited me still more as I realized that he too was nearing the breaking point. Increasing the rhythm of our humping and of our sucking we worked harder and harder, and then our reward was upon us-Joe's cock started to spurt come, greedily Susie and I placed both our mouths over the head, kissing each other with our mouths open, and letting Joe's ample sperm pour between our lips, both of us drinking it while we tongued each other's mouth. It was a wonderful sensation-we both drank his come, and we both ate the come out of each other's mouth! At the same time, both our orgasms began, set off by the feel of Joe's hot thick sperm, and the incredible mind fuck of his double blow job, and the two of us eating his come. I loved the idea of taking sperm off her tongue and of having her lick the drops of come off my cheek. His cock slammed between us, spurted again and again and again, and the two of us ground our hips in one long final thrust of the metal dildo, the waves starting from deep inside us flowing over us both....
CHAPTER NINE
It turned out that Joe was every bit as good mechanic as he was a lover, and so when Susie and I headed back onto the road the next morning we found that just like he promised the bike was running even better than new. The engine had a wonderful smooth sound-the idle was s low and perfect that when the engine wasn't revved you could just count the pulses-on two, three, four-as the cylinders fired in a wonderful rhythmic pattern. Also, since he ha cleaned the spark plugs and reset the gaps, the acceleration was even better than before, and whenever we pulled off from a red light, I could ripple through the gears in an amazingly short time, watching the tack rise and fall while the speedometer only rose higher and higher. It was a terrific feeling, especially down there in the wide open spaces of the Southwest.
For those of you who have never traveled in the Southwest, let me take just a minute or two to describe it. It's all desert, but the desert is always changing. For miles and miles the sand is a very pale yellow and then you'll hit a stretch which is very bright pink. The scrub and the cactus grow up out of that hard soil in a surprisingly erotic tide as if there were something particularly sexy in the notion of bringing some sort of fertility in all that arid dryness. But the urge to life-which of course comes to me as that sort of animal instinct that I spoke of before-is so strong that it brings forth these wild twisted bits of vegetation even out here where rain hardly ever falls.
But perhaps the most amazing thing about riding through the Southwest is what it does to your perception of distances. The air is so clear and so dry that you may look down the road and see a mountain which looks like it's only five or at the most ten miles away. But then, even cruising down at eighty or ninety, you find that the mountain takes you an hour to get to. In reality, it was really at least a hundred miles away! And yet the air is so empty that it seems as if you would reach it in just a few minutes.
And then of course there is the wonderful desert sky. The ground is so flat that the roundness of the sky is accentuated, and seems to go on forever in an ever-rising upward arch. And the blue of it is not quite like anything that you've ever seen before. Its neither the wet blue of a seacoast sky, or the darker blue of a Midwest sky, but rather a parched and scorched but perfectly crystal sort of blue. For me, there has always been an intimate connection between these details of landscape, and the sort of erotic moods it puts me in. I think that all animals, especially the human animal-are affected by their surroundings; I feel that the different sorts of plays of light and textures of the ground evoke different kinds of sexual response. For me, the desert always me think of very languorous cool sex; unlike the friendly fucking in the com fields, the desert just makes me feel like lying down very calmly, very slowly and deliberately, and diddling and being diddled for hours.
Which is exactly what Susie and I did on a couple of nights spent in the desert before we finally made it into California. Susie, as always, spent most of the day masturbating on the bike while she watched the scenery. And, as always, I spent the day quietly gathering impressions and getting myself subtly horny from the vibration of the bike. And when we stopped, our two sexual moods merged beautifully into perfect relaxation of calm lesbian loving. The two of us had grown very close in an incredibly short time, and in addition to knowing each other's body and each other's desires with greater accuracy as time went on, we found ourselves growing to really dig each other as individuals. There was about Susie an openness and an enthusiasm that ' I tremendously admired, and of course she herself never got over her initial fascination about a woman motorcyclist.
So it was a wonderfully pleasant few days that we spent on the road, and it was almost with a kind of sadness that we neared San Francisco. Someone has said that traveling is often better than arriving, and I couldn't help noticing a little twinge of that feeling as I saw the road markers tell us that San Francisco was only fifteen or twenty miles away.
Our destination in Frisco was a sort of crash pad that Susie had heard about in her travels and where she heard there would be plenty of good grass, plenty of good people, and, if rumor were to be believed, plenty of good fucking. This pad, which was on the fringe of the old Haight-Ashbury district, but which had survived long after most of the hippie pads of the sixties had folded, was run cooperatively by a group of very spiritual beings, and it served as a haven for high-school runaways, people who just wanted to get away for a while and other assorted types who wanted to spend some time in a communal sexual sort of setting.
Well, it all sounded good but at twenty-one I almost felt myself too old for that sort of thing but of course I looked forward to trying it out. And of course I must say that the thought of meeting up with more young girls-and young men-who were around Susie's age and who hopefully would share her enthusiasm and her remarkable adolescent horniness was a big part of the attraction.
Well it wasn't long before we found ourselves within the San Francisco city limits and so I turned off the highway and started groping my way through the streets. I had never been to San Francisco before, and I didn't really know where I was going. But to me there is something very exciting about finding your way through the streets of a strange city-it's somehow like looking for buried treasure, like following a map that exists only in your own mind. You never know what you'll run into, you never know where the streets are leading but you just follow on the basis of a kind of instinct and the desire to ride, the desire to cover the ground and to get somewhere, no matter where it is. So we just rode, looking around at the beautiful white buildings, watching the fog that was already moving in a soft white mass down over the city from the north. Susie seemed very, very glad to be in San Francisco at last, and she showed her gratitude to me for getting her there by hugging me very tightly as we drove through the dark streets. The pressure of her hand around my waist and coyly slipping up toward my breasts began to excite me terrifically and I looked forward to finding the pad where we would be able to lay ourselves out and begin making love.
By a combination of good luck and people who gave us some good directions we soon found the place. It was an old sort of beat-up looking three story house, and it was painted lavender. The people in charge must have really had some sort of sense of decorating! There was a weird assortment of vehicles in front, vans mostly, but also some dime buggies and here and there another motorcycle-which of course I found a good sign. So we parked the bike and took our packs off the back and went up to the front door.
The sight that confronted us when Susie boldly pushed the door open was like nothing I've ever seen before. It was like a vision out of some sort of hirsute Alice in Wonderland-aside from anything else there was an assortment of hair like I've never seen before! There were beards that hung down to waists, there were pony tails that hung down between the cracks of young girls' asses, there were afros, there were frizzed-out freaked-out coiffures that seemed to take up whole corners of the room. Some of the bodies were hairy, most of the faces were hairy and all of the heads were exceedingly hairy. And since--as I noticed immediately after the overwhelming impression of all that hair wore off--everyone was nude, there was also a goodly amount of pubic hair to be viewed. And even the pubic hair was of an amazing variety-there was the usual dark brown curly sort, but there also seemed to be bushes here and there, blond or flaming bright red, and seemed to see a few that were trimmed in various patterns, some of which seemed to have some sort of mystical tantric meaning, but others of which were just the good old all American sweetheart sign.
Well, in addition to all the hair and all the nudity, the whole room seemed to be overhung with the haze of marijuana smoke. The sweet musky fragrance of the drug hit us as soon as we opened the door, and we looked through the haze with a sort of eager anticipation to get stoned ourselves. I myself, being a good clean country girl, have never been into drugs much, but of course I'm curious about them as I am about anything that might make you feel good so I was more than willing to give it a try. In addition to all the smoke, I also saw lots of people wearing these funny little canisters around their necks, which I later found out were amyl nitrite philters. And it wasn't long before I learned what those little gizmos were all about! And aside from that, back in a corner I saw a few people who seemed to be inhaling the base of their thumbs-I later found out that what they were doing was snorting cocaine, the Cadillac of drugs.
Susie and I just stood there and gaped for a couple of minutes-our attention was especially held by a beautiful young couple who were fucking in the middle of the room as oblivious to all the activity around them as could be imagined-taking in the scent of the drugs and the vision of all those wasted but still beautiful young bodies. And then we turned and looked at each other as if to say what the fuck are we waiting for? And we walked into one of the back rooms to find a place to lay our clothes and then came back into the main room to join the fray.
Now I've been involved in lots of group sex scenes-the one by the pond was a memorable one, so were lots of others, during the time I was hooking and during the time I spent in Joplin before taking off-but I've never seen one where the atmosphere was quite so strange as this one. It may just have been that I myself was feeling very spacy from all those hours spent on the road, but everyone seemed to be in a sort of trance. People were fucking in many different positions and in many different configurations, and even though everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves thoroughly, there was a kind of restfulness and noninvolvement-almost a kind of exalted indifference that pervaded every act.
For example, I saw a young man eating the cunt of a girl who was sprawled out in the middle of the living room. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself-I could see that his cock was at full erection while he knelt between her legs and gobbled her snatch greedily, but as soon as he brought her to orgasm, he crawled away without even sticking his cock in once and sat in a corner by himself, in a lotus position his cock still erect though it was neither touching nor being touched! And the strangest thing about it was that he made the act of just sitting there by himself seem every bit as sensual and sexy as the act of eating the woman's cunt! To put it mildly, it was a strange group of people, and though I was more than eager to join in the fun I didn't quite know how to go about it. These sophisticated city drug types were certainly a far cry from the straightforward fucking of Joplin, Missouri!
I didn't want to admit to Susie that I was at all confused-after all I was the older and supposedly the more experienced, and she looked up to me-so I just decided to bide my time for a while and see how one went about getting in on this strange trance-like fucking. And Susie soon set an example that was delightfully easy to follow by just walking over to where the cunt-lapping meditator was now sitting, and as casually as could be going down on him! He was staring straight ahead the whole time and didn't even seem to acknowledge it as she laid herself at his feet and began to suck his cock. His concentration was really incredible-she lay there in front of him, working her mouth over the head of his prick sensually. I watched the movement of her lips and I could tell that she was doing a fine job too. She was tonguing the head, tracing the outline of the wonderful ruby bulge while at the same time she ran her fingers gently over the shaft. Then I saw her bring her teeth into play, nibbling at the ever so tender prick slit, and cupping his heavy balls with her right hand. It was definitely an ace perfect blow-job and it amazed me to see him sitting there, taking it all in, and no doubt thoroughly enjoying it, without even batting an eyelash! Whether it was the drugs or the meditation, I wasn't quite sure, but there seemed something exquisitely perverse in enjoying so much while showing so little reaction.
As I was standing there watching, someone came along and offered me a pipe full of what I later found out was hashish. Trying to look as relaxed as could be, I took a deep breath pulling the drug deep down into my lungs. It seemed to effect me almost immediately-it seemed as if my internal organs were all relaxing and rearranging themselves-my head was growing light, and I suddenly became aware of blood coursing through the inner regions of my genitalia. A whole new point of awareness opened up and overtook me-I seemed to feel all the bones inside my fingers, I seemed to feel the potential milk inside my breasts! It was a wonderful feeling, and I made sure that I took three or four good deep hits before passing the pipe on.
Well, now that I had a little of the drug into my system the whole scene suddenly began to seem very natural and understandable. Although I hadn't as yet gotten into the fucking myself, I felt a strange sort of total sensuality overtake me, and I felt I could understand why it had seemed so utterly sexy when the guy who Susie was now sucking was merely sitting in the corner with a hard-on, staring off into space. And it also seemed very easy for me to go over to anyone in the room and begin fucking or sucking-whatever small number of inhibitions I might have had were thoroughly swept away by the wonderful effect of the drug.
So I looked around the room, trying to decide which of the many sprawling bodies around me I wished to select for my initiation into this wonderful new sort of communal fucking. I decided on a very slender and dark female figure who was lying on her stomach on the other side of the room. Her skin was a wonderful sort of golden brown and what I noticed first about her, because of the position she was lying in, were her beautiful buttocks, which rose up in twin orbs. As I learned later, she was Pakistani and she had the rich grayish brown skin which is typical of people from that part of the world. And the impulse I had was simply to go over to her, kneel between the backs of her thighs and lick the entire length of the crack of her ass. I -wanted just to run my pink tongue over that wonderful cleft in the grayish brown skin!
And so I did just that. I walked across the room on legs that were made very heavy by the drug, and when I reached my goal, I simply dropped to my knees between her thighs. I placed my palms on the floor to support me, and I leaned forward, letting my tongue dangle into the crack of her ass. Her skin had a wonderfully sweet and salty taste-no doubt she had already been fucked several times that day, and had done a good deal of sweating as well as having absorbed various other tasty secretions. Over and over again I let my tongue trace its way through the long cleft of ass, letting it slide along the tender skin of her buttocks, and slipping it playfully against the tight button of her anal sphincter. She lay there very calmly as I did this and her only indication of pleasure was to purr softly in a low trance-like tone.
Without even being conscious of it, I increased the pressure of my tongue. Now that I had licked all the tasty secretions off of her skin, I began to crave the feeling of the pressure of the flesh beneath so I tongued her harder, feeling the sponginess of her buttocks' muscles and most of all enjoying the tight resilience of her anus. I pressed on it, forced it open a bit with the pressure of my tongue, and then let it gently snap shut again as I released the pressure. It was a wonderfully playful sensation to be playing with this strange woman's ass with the tip of my tongue!
And I must have been in some sort of trance of my own because it was only gradually that I realized that I was being fingered! Someone had evidently come over in back of me as I knelt over the reclining form of my Pakistani princess-had come up and silently and without introduction or ceremony, as I myself had assumed my place, and had introduced a finger or two into my snatch. I didn't know who it was that was in back of me-whether it was a man or a woman, whether he or she was beautiful or ugly, short or tall, white or black-and this confusion, the total anonymity of it, seemed terrifically perverse and exciting. All that mattered was that we were all there fucking-all that mattered was that I had something in my pussy and that I had a beautiful ass to play with my tongue-and the individual faces and bodies were all merged into a trance-like haze which all flowed together into one long communal fuck. If it's true, like the mystics say, that all is one, then in this particular house all is one great big fuck.
Well strangely enough, I picked up the vibes of the household so thoroughly that as this anonymous hand was fingering me, although I was enjoying it terrifically, it did have a way of making my pussy more and more sensitive and more and more wet-I didn't feel like showing any sort of reaction, other than very subtly and very rhythmically moving my pussy around his or hers or its fingers. At the same time, I kept up my finger probe and ass-licking and this movement became so automatic that it seemed like I had been doing much longer than I actually had. I felt myself performing like some sort of machine-but not a cold machine of steel and oil, rather a huge flesh machine that was powered by some sort of will and some sort of sexual presence that went far beyond the combined sexualities of the individuals. It was all very strange, let me tell you.
Even though I was feeling so cool and calm I was aware that the juices of my snatch were beginning to flow more and more freely and I could tell that those fingers were coming into me with a bit more authority as time progressed. I lifted my ass a notch higher in the air to expose my twat more fully, and at the same time I brought my tongue down harder and harder onto the delicious flesh of the Pakistani's "rear. end. I now had her to the point where I was working her anal sphincter pretty well open with my tongue and I was even getting a bit more than the tip of my tongue up her ass! It is of course fairly common to lick someone's ass-but as I opened her more and more, I was actually fucking her ass with my tongue! There is no shame or sense of disgust in this-on the contrary it seemed like a wonderfully intimate and almost spiritual thing to do-I was gaining way into her body by a route more bizarre and more unique than any other I could think of. And as if in response to my growing excitement I felt the. fingers that were in my cunt fan out so that one of them was now pressing gently but firmly against my own anal quarter.
It wasn't long before one of the fingers was up my ass. It went in wonderfully smoothly-no doubt from some lubrication from my cunt which was pretty well distributed" over that entire area-and now that there were fingers in both my ass and my cunt I could feel the wonderful shared pressure pinching my membrane.
In a kind of sympathetic response, I brought two of my own fingers up and into the twat of my willing victim while I continued licking her crack. The volume and the pitch of her groaning increased, and I knew that I was pleasing her.
As my own excitement mounted higher and higher I became terrifically curious as to whose fingers were doing such a wonderful job toying with my ass and my cunt, but I dared not turn around. It was not that I consciously refused to turn around but rather that I seemed incapable of doing so. I was so totally involved in the rhythm of this particular configuration that I just could not dare myself to move and interrupt this harmony in any way.
But though I had no way of knowing the exact identity of my fingerer, I was at least able to surmise that it was a male because the fingers were soon removed and something that felt distinctly like a cock was put in my cunt in its place. And a goodly cock it seemed! It was rock hard and terrifically long, it explored the very upper regions of my cunt without seeming to show the slightest sign of strain. And something that was wonderfully filthy about it was that it seemed totally disembodied: whoever's cock it was, was careful not to touch me in any way with his hips or stomach, it was just pure cock going into me, pure cock corning at me in some sort of sourceless place in the cosmos.
Under the condition of excitement of getting fucked, I could no longer content myself with merely tonguing my princess' ass, and so I slipped my longest finger-the middle-into her, anal sphincter. I put it in all the way and he relaxed asshole admitted it all at once with no strain at all. The three of us were now involved in a wonderful sort of linked chain-a cock stuck in me, my finger stuck in her, and the three of us rocked back and forth. To my surprise, I found that I myself was humming, a droning note that was in perfect harmony with the groaning of the beautiful brown woman whose ass I was fingering. And at the same time I gradually became aware that the creature who was fucking me was also humming in harmony and the three of us resonated together on a perfect sexual chord., We lay there fucking like a chain that could be added on to at either end, or maybe more like a game of dominos that could be added on to at any place. Because it wasn't long before a young man threw himself alongside me and began sucking at my tits. He had a beautiful head of dark curly hair and with my free hand I massaged his scalp for him while he sucked my nipple. And the entire atmosphere was so totally sexualized that the mere act of running my hand through his hair sent shivers down my back and sent the juices spurting more heavily in my cunt. There were no parts of our bodies that had not become sexual parts-it was as if the hair on his head was in some way mysteriously linked to his pubic hair, to his cock, and to the inner workings of his entire sexual being!
And suddenly I felt myself begin to come. Now as I've said, my type of orgasm takes a long time to build, and when it does build there is a tremendous amount of tension-a kind of pain really for the few minutes before I actually burst open with ecstasy. But this was a totally different sort of sensation, a totally new kind of Orgasm than any I had ever experienced before! There was no tension, no pain, leading up to it-there was just a constant and subtle rise in pleasure until I was mysteriously at the threshold, and then the orgasm, when it came, was not of the rippling sort that racked my body, but a more subtle sort that kept radiating warmth for what seemed like hours. Because there was no painful buildup to the orgasm, there needed to be no painful backing off from it. I stayed at the peak for an incredibly long time, coming and coming and coming, but not even thinking of it as multiple orgasms-rather as one big never ending one, a real kind of cosmic come.
And to increase my excitement still more, I could feel that the cock-this wonderful anonymous cock-was spilling sperm into me. But spilling it not in the usual spurt of a man's ejaculation, and not with the usual results either. His cock stayed as hard as could be! As I attuned my own movements and sensations to his, I became aware that he was just constantly shooting single drops into me, that that stiff prick was just slowly oozing gism without ever losing any of its hardness in the process! It was amazing, these people, through an amazing sort of sexual discipline, had found a way to prolong orgasm almost indefinitely! Even the men, who are usually limited by nature's laws, had managed to transcend their own limitations and had managed to come nonstop for hours, to control their ejaculations so wonderfully that their cocks remained hard even after they had remained at the peak of pleasure for a long, long time!
And our chain didn't stop there. The young boy who was sucking my tit was soon mounted by a beautiful young girl. She simply straddled him, taking his ruby cock deep into her snatch, nor did it stop there. Another man came over and stood alongside the girl who had just straddled my tit-sucker's prick. Without ceremony, she began rubbing his penis against her cheek, and in a trancelike way she took it into her mouth and began to suck it.
And I don't know how many other configurations went on. I don't know how long it lasted or how many people we had involved in our wonderful chain of sex. I myself, exhausted from the road and totally given up to the contemplation of my seemingly never-ending pleasure, closed my eyes, still being fucked, still fingering my bronze princess' ass, and let it all flow over me. All I know is that it seemed like I was fucked forever, and when I regained consciousness it was the next morning. My cunt was sore in a wondrous way-it radiated a warmth all its own, the walls were so gently bruised that I felt like I still had cock in me. I woke up on the rug alongside Susie and seeing her looking at me out o one eye, I pulled her toward me and gave her full wet kiss on the mouth and told her that I thought she had some wonderful friends.
CHAPTER TEN
I stayed on in San Francisco for a few days and in that amount of time I was able to try out every drug they had, every infinite of sexual experimentation they could come up with and every position for fucking that had ever been conceived of by the human imagination. The discipline and the control and the energy of those people was amazing! But somehow I have to confess I didn't really feel at home there. Susie, on the other hand, being a few years younger than I and coming from a very different place, had seemed to fit right in with that whole drug love sort of fucking trip. But I myself found something lacking in it-I think it was all the peace and love that put me off. This may just be a quirk or a perversion of mine, but I like there to be something a little evil, a little mean in my fucking. Good vibes are wonderful, of course, but there's also something very enthralling about bad vibes, about evil feelings and the possibility of violence, of pain. And those people at the crash pad were far too gentle and mellowed out on the philosophy and their drugs to inflict pain on anyone. I think that was very beautiful about them, but after a few days I felt like I had had enough of it.
So, since I had it in mind to try to get into some more evil, a sleazier type of scene, I naturally headed down to L.A., which is of course about the most potentially sleazy and most evil place on earth. At this time, I knew L.A. by reputation, but what I found when I got there, as you will begin hearing shortly, was that everything that I had ever heard about it was confirmed. It's not necessarily that LA is a sexy place-as far as that goes San Francisco is probably sexier-but there's something very evil about it, people are all on strange sorts of head trips down there, but not of the peace and love variety-more of the leather and chain sort, and even the types who were not into it that heavily just bear traces of its influence. LA is the sort of city where I wouldn't be at all surprised if even the meekest looking little guy on the street could pick me up and want to get into some heavy whipping or bondage. It's just that sort of place.
The most difficult part of leaving San Francisco was saying goodbye to Susie. But once my mind was made up to travel, I traveled and no kind of commitment or sentimentality held me. Susie had been a great friend to me, as well as a wonderful fuck-she had kept me constantly supplied with nice lesbian encounters and with a tremendous amount of orally sensual affection, but aside from that, she had come to seem almost like a younger sister to me. It was she who first made me comfortable in the crash -pad, and it was she who was constantly urging me about what a swell hippie I'd make. I tried to explain to her a little bit about why I was leaving-I tried to explain to her my perverse longings for some sleaze and evilness-and it seemed to strike a sympathetic cord in her, in that she started diddling herself and admitted to me that she was turned on by the prospect. But she was with her kind of people, and I decided to head south to my kind of people. And since neither of us wanted to hold the other back in any way-that was the most beautiful part of our friendship-we said goodbye with one final very deep kiss and a wonderful long hug where we felt every part of each other's body for the last time, and then I left.
For those of you who have never visited it, the coast of California is one of the most beautiful places on earth. There is a small range of mountains known as the Coastal Range which in certain places come right down to the very shore line, and there's an old highway known as Highway 1 which runs the entire length of the state. Being in actual view of the water much of the time, I could just wind in and out of the hills of the coastal range, nestled between the blue-green pine and eucalyptus frees on the one hand and the surging, never-ending Pacific on the other. It's a wonderful sight, and the curves in the road are just challenging enough to make the ride interesting but not so dangerous that you can't let your mind wander over the magnificent scenery. It's about 400 miles from San Francisco to LA, and though it's a good bit shorter if you take one of the inland highways, I wouldn't have given up this ride down the coast for anything in the world.
I meandered down through Monterey and Big Sur--places that I had always heard of and which had come to have almost legendary character in my mind--and I got a special kind of thrill in passing through these famous places. The motorcycle roared beneath me, reassuring me about the power I had and of course keeping me turned on by the vibrations. But more than that, it made me feel thoroughly in control of my own destiny, it made me feel self-sufficient and every bit as good as a man.
And perhaps another one of my perversions was that whenever I start thinking or feeling like a man, I get very turned on. Call it penis envy, or call it whatever you like, there is no question that when the thought of myself acting or seeming like a man enters my mind, it instantly makes my cunt wet and turns my thoughts to brutal kinds of sex. Maybe I rebel against the stereotypes of feminine sexuality that seem to exclude brutality and assume that the desire to be mean and to be brutal were the sole prerogatives of males! No, I myself liked to experience brutality-sometimes on the receiving end and sometimes on the handing-out end, and maybe that's why the thought of taking on aspects of the male personality and sexuality turns me on so much. In any event, the farther south I got the hornier I got, and while there was still a hundred miles or so to go before I hit LA, I was planning the type of sex that I would like to have that night.
I was really letting my fantasies run wild, and they turned me on so much that at one point I had to pull over to the side of the road and open my pants and do a really good fingering job to take the edge off. I stuck a couple of fingers in myself and jiggled them around good and hard, just to use up a tiny bit of the incredible pool of energy that was the horniness in my cunt. I'm sure that I could have brought myself to orgasm in a very short time-my thoughts had been turning me on and the vibrations of the bike had been tickling me, literally for hundreds of miles, and with that kind of motorcycle foreplay, a few minutes of concentrated clit work would have been all I needed. But I didn't want to bring myself off, I only wanted to use up the very topmost layer of my horniness and to save all the rest for what I would probably find in LA.
The basic gist of my fantasies was to get as brutal and as anonymous as possible in a good fuck. After those few days of peace and love and good vibes, I was left aching for the total opposite. I wanted to be fucked hard and fast and solid, by a man, but better still, by men who had dirt on their bodies and dirt on their minds. After the sweet smell of marijuana, I wanted men who emanated the sour smell of stale beer and sweat. After the gentleness of the spiritual creatures in San Francisco who never raised their voices to each other let alone with fists, I wanted brutes who would curse me out, tell me
I was a bitch, call me a slut, and slap my face and my ass good and hard and to do anything that might please me. I was feeling like a total slut-I certainly was no flower child. I just wanted to get fucked-an all-American roadside fuck.
So I just followed the orange haze until I got to LA, and when I got there, one look at it, one whiff of it was enough to tell me that I had come to the right place for the sleazy sex I was after. LA is probably the most spread out city on earth-it lies there in the middle of the desert like a whore with her legs spread as wide as they'll go, her snatch open and dripping vapors, diseased, crawling with vermin: that was my first impression of LA. But far from being grossed out by the imagery, this blended with my excitement and enhanced it. At that moment, if I could have had my choice between being fucked in a perfumed bed chamber with satin sheets or laid down on oil and grit of one of LA's back alleys, I would have picked the back alley hands down. I was just in that sort of mood.
My fantasies had led to the decision that I would take myself to one of the Hell's Angels' hangouts and check out the scene there. I'm not one for crashing private parties but I thought that my motorcycle would be a kind of calling card, and I couldn't imagine that such gallant young men would ever turn away a damsel in distress. Yes, the sort of thing that I was most up for was to be ganged fucked by a half dozen or so big, mean, leather-clad Hell's Angels! That to me would be a very special aspect of my initiation into the world of motorcycles. I had mastered the riding, I had felt some of the aesthetic thrills of covering ground and now I wanted the other aspects-the sleazy, the cheap thrill scene, the totally lascivious and debauched aspects.
Well, LA is pretty much run by Hell's Angels, and so I didn't have too much trouble in finding my way to one of their hangouts. I must admit, a couple of the people of whom I asked directions looked at me sort of funny, but they didn't want to ride after me, afraid that I had a boyfriend who would rub them out without even thinking about it. So just a little bit after dark, I found my way to a very sleazy bar in some sort of really run-down neighborhood-I don't even remember street names or how I got there-that seemed like a very promising locale for the sort of adventure I was looking for.
The parking lot was full of bikes, choppers mostly, many of which were emblazoned with diabolical fretwork on their sissy bars-there were all sorts of Black Sabbath emblems, outlines of skulls, inverted crucifixes. The whole thing was very strange and evil, and my own bad-assed Kawasaki seemed very stale and staid and pure in comparison to these massive objects of chrome and phallic incantations. But I certainly wasn't about to chicken out-on the contrary these mechanical monsters turned me on still more. I imagined that these very evil machines would be a very accurate mirror of their owners, and that I would be meeting some of the most brutally bizarre people that I had ever seen.
With my knees shaking, just a wee bit-more from anticipation than from anxiety-I entered the bar and sat myself down at a table. The whole place was very dim and it stank of stale brew and stale piss; apparently it's the sort of place where the customers don't bother going to the John when they have to take a leak. I could just picture some burly guy who had taken in about a gallon of beer just opening his fly while standing at the bar and taking Out his battered cock, and pissing on the floor. This image may disgust some-it excites me.
Well, this didn't seem like the kind of place where unaccompanied women went as a rule, and so it wasn't long before every eye in the place was on me. The men eyed me lasciviously. They all seemed terribly big and hairy, but not hairy in the wonderful angelic sense of the San Franciscans-hairy rather in the disheveled sense of oily devils. They looked me up and down, and then they made remarks to each other in low tones, they laughed wickedly, and it entered my mind that they would probably rape me, whether or not I was willing, which I was-and I had to decide how to play my cards. Would it be more of a turn-on if I acted like I didn't want to be fucked and then let myself be fucked, or would it be even more of a turn on to come right out and admit that I was out for a gang bang!
I sat drinking my beer and planning my strategy. I soon realized that I was the only woman in the place but I felt totally on top of the situation. After all, I was feeling like a man and so I was very at home in the situation. The fact that I had a cock-hungry cunt while everyone else in the place had a cunt-hungry cock in no way separated me from the rest of the people-on the contrary, it created a tremendously exhilarating bond.
Wishing to get at least slightly drunk before the welcomed ordeal approached, I slugged down three or four beers in rapid succession and I felt myself getting more and more evil and depraved. My cunt was soaked, my nipples were straining at the inside of my light riding shirt, and I was just about at the point where I would make things happen. I decided that if no one approached me by the time I had finished the beer I was now on I would approach someone myself.
But just as I was polishing off my last swig, a guy-the biggest and nastiest looking of the lot-came over to me, and in a voice of sarcastic gallantry, but with a leer that betrayed his true intentions, he said to me, "And what, Madam, might you be interested in, in such a sleazy place as this?"
I looked at him for a few seconds, unable to speak. He had a long crescent-shaped scar that ran the entire length of his left cheek, and his nose was horribly twisted, as if it had broken many times. His teeth were crooked, some of them were missing and his leer was the filthiest thing I had ever seen. At the sight of him, I had suddenly become frightened, and my excitement increased tenfold, and, amazed at my own audacity, I looked him right in the eye and said, "Actually I was feeling like getting gang fucked."
Now it was his turn to stare at me. Finally he managed to say "Did I hear you correctly?"
"If you heard me ask to be gang fucked, then you heard me correctly."
Well, now the leader did an amazing thing. He let out a tremendous shriek, gaining the attention of everyone in the place, and then he said in a very loud voice, "Hey, fellas, this here bitch says she wants to get gang fucked;"
When I heard my own words repeated they sounded incredibly filthy, and I couldn't believe that I had said them. I regard myself as a consummate slut of course, but sometimes I surprise even myself! And I just could not believe how utterly boorish it was of him to say it out loud, so that everyone in the place could hear it. But it was I myself who had started the ball rolling, and I had no right to complain if the going now got a little rough. I started the game, but it was up to them to make the rules. I was at their mercy, and that thought excited me still more.
All eyes were now on me, expectant. I didn't quite know what was expected of me. After a couple of incredibly tense moments, the leader said to me, in a voice that was almost gentle but laden with menace, "Well then, stand up and strip."
"Right here?" I asked meekly.
"Yes," said the leader. "Right here. Do you think that we're going to take a suite at the fucking Hilton?"
So I stood up and slipped out of my clothes. I was now nude before the eyes of a dozen or so gaping men. But there was nothing wholesome or natural about this kind of nudity-no, it was pure exhibitionism, they were eating me up as greedily and as filthily as they could. I was nothing but an object, an attraction, a sexual circus act that they could enjoy and then throw away.
I stood there for a couple of minutes more and no one said a word. I could feel their eyes piercing through my erect nipples like golden needles. Like hot tongues, their eyes flicked over my cunt and their teeth seemed to nibble at the clit. I was incredibly turned on by the notion of just standing there in the midst of those boorish, brutish men in their leather and bits of chain. Finally, when my knees began to sway under me in anticipation and spaciness, the chief looked in the direction of a cluster of four men who were sitting at another table, and he told them to give him their belts.
The implications of this did not immediately get through to me-then, all at once, I realized that they meant to strap me down, they meant to bind my arms and legs, so that I would be even more fully at their mercy. I had asked to get gang fucked, and now they intended to strap me down so that I couldn't budge at all until they were through with me. Now I indeed felt fear, a fear that only increased my hominess. I watched with fascination as the four burly angels slipped off their thick leather belts and handed them to their chief. And I watched with even greater fascination as the mean-looking man with the mangled face stood before me with the four thick strands of leather in his hands, with incredibly thick and heavy silver belt buckles hanging down.
They next took one of the larger rectangular tables from its place against the wall and slid it into the middle of the room, under the sick, stark light of the bare light bulb. Not only did they mean to gang fuck me while I was bound, but they meant to have me under a spotlight as they did it, so that I would be fully exposed to them in my bondage! They were out to do a thorough job, to make it as humiliating for me as they possibly could, and they seemed to have everything down pat. No doubt they had had lots of practice.
The chief then ordered me to lie down on the table on my back. I didn't for a moment think of refusing. Everything was so utterly bizarre that no individual part of it struck me as strange. It was all of a piece, all a thoroughly unified image of a totally depraved and debauched gang fuck.
The surface of the table was soft and soggy with beer-or maybe it was piss, who knows, and it felt somehow slimy against my back. The chief arranged me carefully so that my buttocks would just barely hang over the edge of the table-that way my cunt would be exposed to the onslaught of all those greasy cocks, and the men would not have to put up with the unappealing necessity of touching me otherwise at all. Yes, they were out to make it humiliating for me, not only because I was only an object, only a cunt. They wanted nothing more from me that for me to be only a cunt, they weren't even interested in my tits, or the feel of my skin, or the texture of my hair, or my mouth-they wanted one thing and one thing only from me-a hot hole where they could put their cocks!
Once he had me properly arranged, the chief delegated a few of the Angels to strap me down. Two of the belts were wrapped around my wrists and then my arms were wrenched backwards so that they could be strapped to the legs of the table. It was rather painful when they first wrenched my arms, but soon the position began to seem comfortable in a very weird way I had been bound before, when I was a hooker in Joplin, but never had I been tied up with such formidable straps of leather, and never had I been arranged in such a blatantly whorish position. Two of the dudes strapped my knees wide apart to the other two legs of the table, and I was totally immobilized. I could move neither my arms nor my legs, and the greatest amount of motion I could manage was to rock my head from side to side. I felt the cool breeze against my wide-open cunt, and I felt the juices welling up inside of me and oozing out from my spread-apart lips.
At this point I expected my rapists to undress, that in some way the sight of their nude bodies, covered with scars and muscles and ripples of beer-drinkers' fat would be a compensation for my nudity and my bondage-at least if we were all nude we would be on some sort of equal terms, and I would feel a little less humiliated set apart. But no, to these men I wasn't even worth undressing for! All they did was to open the tops of their jeans and undo the zippers. All I saw were a dozen or so thick, erect cocks sticking out of either blue jeans or leather riding pants, like a legion of flagpoles, like an army of swordsmen going off to battle. This, to me, seemed the final humiliation, to have to remain nude while my assailants were dressed through the entire act of fucking!
The men now formed a long line between my legs. They stood one behind the other, joking and talking loudly, their stiff pricks sticking straight out in front of them, pointing toward the target, my twat. Someone asked the chief how they would do it, and the chief responded boisterously that they would first begin with a round of ten.
I had no idea what he meant by the phrase "round of ten" but I soon found out. What he meant was that everyone on line would get ten thrusts at me. It was all very fair, like shooting foul shots in a playground. Everyone would take his ten thrusts and then go to the back of the line. They would fuck me by turns, without passion, without desire, only in a very cool and disgusted sort of game. And the game was myself!
The chief was first on line, and when he first pronged me with his stiff brute's cock I thought I would scream. I was so well oiled from all the anticipation that it slipped in quite easily at first, but it was so big and thick, and the position I was in was so utterly exposed to his thrusts, that it still hurt. Involuntarily, I jerked my leg, and the unyielding leather of the strap cut into it painfully. Well, I would learn not to do that again, I would lay there and take it no matter how big the cocks were, no-matter how much it hurt. To try to move would only make it worse.
From the character of the chief's ten thrusts I could infer the kind of fucking I was in for. It was all to be straight in and out, nothing for me, everything for them. There was to be no clit play, not even any sort of side to side fucking that would soothe the walls of my twat. No, they were just going to use me as a passageway for their own lust, as a mass of hot and wet tissue for them to rub their hot cocks against. They were just going to go in and out, in and out, just using my cunt for their own pleasure each in his own way. But each in the same way.
It wasn't long before I lost count of the succession of the thrusts, of the succession of the cocks. They all fucked me the same way, totally selfishly-and there was no reason for me to tell one from the other, and yet there was an exquisitely perverse sensation that I derived from the idea that it was just a succession of cocks, nothing more, that what I had set out to do was to get fucked in the most brutal and most anonymous way possible, and this was just what I had planned. My cunt turned out tremendous amounts of lubrication against the onslaught of those big filthy pricks and I could feel the rough material of their jeans and sometimes even the hard cold metal of their zippers against my tender cunt lips when they thrust into me deeply. I was getting bruised on the inside and chafed on the outside, and all the sensations merged into one hot glow of total abandoned debauchery.
Aside from this, a couple of the guys stood over me with a pitcher which contained beer-at least I think it was beer, and they poured an almost constant stream of it down into my mouth. I had no choice but to drink, otherwise I would be choked. If I turned my face away, one of them would grab me by the chin with his strong meaty hands and force me to open my mouth again. So I swallowed, and I was fucked, and the entire evening seemed like a never-ending bout of filthy fucking.
When they had gone through the line once, the chief said. "Okay gentlemen, now we'll try a round of twenty."
There was some filthy laughing in the line and some dirty comments about the possibilities of anyone coming off too soon. I had no idea how long they intended to extend the game, but as far as I was concerned, they could be at it all night! I was feeling so wonderfully sluttish that I didn't care about anything. Let the entire city of LA come in and have a shot at my pussy, it was all the same to me.
So now they began their second round. Having twenty thrusts to work with, they were able to get more into a rhythm of fucking, and they probed me deeper and harder than they had at first. Maybe they were feeling less restrained by finding out what a slut I was. by seeing just how much fucking I could take. Then they escalated the rhythm and the intensity of their thrusts, id I in turn turned out more and more cunt p. I could feel that my lips were lying totally pen-more open than they had ever been here-and I could feel my own juices reforming the bottom of my crack and flowing down over my buttocks in a thick slippery stream. I must have actually lost consciousness from these sensations, from all the effort, because only thing I seemed to be aware of was the chief's voice announcing that now they would do round of thirty! I don't even know how many : them there were, I know it was at least ten, it may have been almost twenty. I'll do a little arithmetic and you'll realize just how much fucking I was getting! Again and again they came down into me-my cunt lay open, wider and wider, any traces of elasticity had left long ago. By this time it was simply a wide gash that could be probed and fucked by all comers.
I don't even quite know when or if I started come. The most probable theory is that I was coming the whole time, I was in such a total ecstasy, but an ecstasy of sleaze as opposed to the re wholesome one of San Francisco, that any notion of individual orgasm, of individual peaks, med absurd. My body was thoroughly racked m all the constant convulsions. I jerked ever slightly, just enough to remind me of the binding pressure of the leather straps, and my clit seemed to grow more and more sensitive "m the onslaught of dick.
And then I heard the chiefs voice say, "And now a round of forty." I couldn't believe they were starting it all over again, and increasing the ante by ten thrusts! So they went through the line again, the cocks seeming to grow stiffer a the erections were pampered by more and mo fucking, as their own excitement, their own e satisfaction and the kind of monstrosities the were performing increased. They fucked me raw. I could feel the skin of my cunt scraped an straining, my lips turning purple and still the kept fucking me.
And then the chief said "round of fifty". I was barely conscious at this point. My head lay back on the table and I was aware of nothing except the constant sensation in my cunt-which by this time had become a combination of a constant bruising and a sort of very subtle burn. It was as if all my skin had been rubbed off, and now the very bones of my pelvis had been explored by this regiment of dicks. I lay back, unable to move, barely breathing, but still somehow enjoying it in some unutterably perverse way-there was a terrific satisfaction in knowing that you are doing absolutely the filthiest thing that you can imagine. And that's the kind of satisfaction I was feeling.
I must have passed out for a while, and when I next became aware of what was happening, I saw all the men standing over me, standing in a wicked, Black Sabbath sort of circle, around the table on which I lay. I looked up and saw with horror perhaps fifteen bearded, gaping, leering faces looking down on my nude form. The image was made even more frightening by the fact that I don't know how they got there, and I had no idea how much time had passed. Had they ended their fucking at the round of fifty? Or had they kept upping the ante until they had each delivered a hundred thrusts? Had I been out for two seconds or for several hours? I didn't know. I was so disoriented, so removed from the entire world by this incredible bout of filthy fucking, that I was aware of nothing in the universe except the now severe burn in my twat and the sight of these men gaping down on me.
But then I saw something that was even more perversely exciting and horrific than the sight of all their faces. They were all pulling their pricks! Every one of them was working his huge fucked-out prick firmly with his right hand and it excited me to realize that all those cocks had been so thoroughly lubricated by the juice of my pussy. They worked their cocks in a shared and evil rhythm, and they stared down at me the whole time. Their eyes played over my body like dozens of filthy fingers and they moaned or seemed to chant some sort of devil's rite as they looked at me and gradually jerked themselves off.
And then, as if by some unspoken sign, they all began to come at the same moment! Working themselves with a never changing horny rhythm, their cocks all began to spurt jism onto my body! The chief stood at my head, his first spurt of come landed on my face and lay there in a hot viscous puddle, the other members of the group were arranged around me as if they were knights at some sort of sexual roundtable, and they began to spurt onto my breasts, and my thighs! I was being bathed in come! They kept pulling their cocks as the first short spurts lengthened into long luxurious pulses of a hot, well-earned orgasm. My whole body seemed to be covered with it! It came at me from fifteen different directions. It landed on my body in hot spurts, like bullets, or like cold sleet stinging me and burning. They worked themselves even after it seemed that there couldn't possibly be any sperm left in them; it spurted out of their cocks onto me.
And when at last their orgasms were over, I found myself totally covered with come, every part of my body totally covered with semen. And then the meaty hands of the chief came down onto my body, and with thick and rough fingers, he rubbed the sperm into my skin. He rubbed it over my breasts, my chin, he rubbed it over my face and he dabbed it onto my lips, and then he reached down over my entire body, and he rubbed one single drop of it onto my clit. That one drop of sperm, that one touch from that incredibly thick and hardened finger, sent me spiraling off into a final orgasm. I strained so hard on the table that the leather bit into my skin, but I couldn't control myself. The onslaught of all that come followed by the one surprisingly gentle touch made me lose all control. I swayed, I grit my teeth, and the fifteen of them looked down at me as I writhed beneath them like one possessed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I have no idea how I got there but in the morning I found myself in a makeshift bunk in the back room of the bar. Except for the lingering binning sensation in my twat, I felt wonderful. Humiliation seems to agree with me! It always seems that the morning after my most humiliating, most debauched fuck, I feel just wonderful. I had no trace of a hangover from all the beer I'd had, and all my muscles felt wonderfully relaxed. The burning sensation in my cunt, although I knew it was the result of being literally fucked raw, just filled me with a-nice sort of gentle sexy glow. I felt like I was ready for more-but I had to admit, I wasn't up to any right this minute.
I lay there in bed awhile, luxuriating in my solitude and the nice languor of early morning. And then I had a strange psychic sensation-it entered my mind that Jim, none other than my own first fuck, had been among my molesters of the night before! Do you know how sometimes you remember a dream-it just comes to you in the middle of the day, and you can't be quite sure whether it really happened or whether it was a dream? Well, it was something like that. The night before I had been far too excited to make sense of much-I was practically hallucinating on my own horniness to tell you the truth. And this morning I was still too blown away to really trust my perceptions-but I really thought that I had seen him. It didn't register at the time, but now that I thought back on it, I was sure. He had grown a beard and had let his sandy hair grow long into sort of greasy curls, but I was almost certain that I would recognize that farm boy face and deep-set intense eyes anywhere.
Well, my curiosity got the better of me and so I found my clothes and stumbled out into the bar to get some coffee and to do some asking around about Jim. One of the guys was just brewing a pot of Java when I walked in, and he offered me some, very chivalrously. It was really surprising how gentle and friendly those guys could be during the day. So we sat down over coffee and started talking and I came right out and asked him if one of the guys who had fucked me last night was named Jim, a guy from Missouri.
And sure enough, it turned out that he was! I heard from my breakfast companion that a guy named Jim, who had always been very straight and traditional, had recently changed his ways, and had come out west, joined the Angels, and had been just as much a devil on wheels as anyone could imagine. He seemed to have such a store of sexual and adventurous energy that there was nothing he wouldn't do.
Well, after that description, I knew that we were talking about one and the same fellow. So I asked my breakfast companion where I might find him. He gave me his address, but warned me that he was shacking up with a girl who was incredibly jealous, a real demon. He told me that I'd better watch out for my ass if I went up there-she was so jealous that she'd be furious even to know her baby had been participating even in an innocent little gang bang, let alone knowing that one of his old sweethearts was tracking him down across country. I told him that I could take care of myself just fine, but he told me not to be too sure-this crazy jealous bitch was not above using a knife!
Well, I'd never really feared that sort of danger. Even though I'm thoroughly into sexual evil and a kind of playful wickedness, the thought of people really hurting each other, of really doing each other harm, is something that I just could never conceive of. And so the thought of this woman using a knife on me didn't faze me at all.
So I got up from the breakfast table and emerged into the smoggy morning of Los Angeles. I walked over to my bike and climbed on. After all the riding I had done, the bike was like an old friend, and I just sighed with a kind of relief and comfort as I straddled my thighs over its wide cushiony seat. It's really amazing the degree of affection that you can get for a piece of machinery!
Well, following the directions that my breakfast companion had given me, it wasn't long before I found myself at Jim's address. I must say that I was a little apprehensive because of the warning I'd gotten about his woman-I didn't believe that she'd knife me or anything, but I was sure that there would be an uncomfortable scene. Some women are just too goddamn insecure--they don't realize that there's plenty of cock in the world to go around. They latch on to a piece of meat that they like especially well, and they think it's their own goddamn private property. I guess I can understand it in a way-it's nice to be loved by someone that you think is really special, but that kind of jealousy, that kind of insanity, is for the birds. Everyone ends up losing out on cock, on cunt, on pleasure in the long run.
I went in the front door and then up a flight of stairs to their apartment. I straightened my hair and then knocked on the door. In a few seconds the door was opened by a tall blond woman-your classic moll. She stood about five eight or nine, and the first thing I noticed about her were the high tight black boots that she wore. They reached all the way up over her knee, and seemed to be laced so tightly that the flesh above them seemed to pulse with the blood that was strapped. Her hair was very blond, somewhat brassy to tell the truth and she had it done up in some sort of elaborate hairdo. She wore lots of makeup, she did everything she could to make herself look like a tramp, and the image was very successful. I took all this in at a glance-being a hooker gives you a good facility for sizing people up in an instant.
"Yeah?" she said to me in a harsh voice. "Who are you looking for, baby?"
"My name's Tina," I said. "I'm an old friend of Jim's, is he around?"
As soon as she heard me say that I was an old friend of Jim's her face flushed scarlet. She looked at me with a glance that was meant to be withering and then she said, "Well, listen, Jim don't need none of his old friends now. He's got me now, and I'm all the woman he can handle. So why don't you just get your ass out of here."
Now humiliation is one thing and just plain rudeness is another. And I'm not one to let myself be talked to that way by some sort of uppity bitch who happens to think that she's a hot piece of ass, and I told her so. That really set her off. She went off on some long tangent about how she didn't like to be abused in her own doorway, and if I didn't like the rules of the house, I should just hit the highway. She told me that she didn't need any two-bit whores coming and asking about her man. So I told her that if she was really so hot a piece as she thought she was, she wouldn't have to guard her man so jealously-if she was really as hot a cunt as she claimed, he'd be kneeling there licking her pussy right now instead of gallivanting off around town wherever he was.
Well I guess that really got to her, because as soon as I was finished saying it she swung her arm around and tried to slap me. But I was ready for it and I blocked the blow with my forearm. From there on it was a battle royal, a real cock fight-or should I say cunt fight and once I was involved in it, I was determined to win. I don't like fighting much, but I don't like losing at all.
Somehow or other we wrestled our way into the middle of the room and the door slammed shut behind us. This bitch was every bit as mean in a fight as she was with her insults-I felt her fingernails clawing at my skin, and it was only by constantly keeping my guard up that I prevented her from clawing my eyes out. And when she wasn't trying to maul me, she was busy trying to kick me with the sharp toe of her pointy boots! She was a real no-holds-barred woman fighter. I myself tried to stay cool and fight her with my Mohammed Ah type shuffle. I kept my distance, and let her do all the moving in, looking for an opening. I had to congratulate myself-I scored her a couple of good corks in the eye before she got really near me.
But she wound herself into more and more of a fury. The more she swung at me and missed the more determined she was to get me the next time. Finally she started charging at me like a bull, putting her head down and trying to butt me in the stomach. I dodged her successfully for awhile, but one time she did a clever head fake and butted me backwards right onto this big old over-stuffed couch that she had.
Well once we were down on the couch the battle took on a whole other dimension. We were really wrestling now, grappling in the finest old tradition. I have to confess that I didn't understand what it was that spurred her on to violence-of course we had exchanged some pretty hard words, but frankly I thought she was really nuts to let that lead to this out and out struggle. But I certainly couldn't talk my way out of it, and so I fought for all I was worth. We pulled each other's hair, we flayed each other's skin, we pinched each other-there was no tactic that was too low for either of us.
And here I have to confess to something that will probably show you another aspect of my perversity-I felt my cunt beginning to get wet from the struggle! There's something about the whole notion of fighting, of abusing myself physically, in a very abandoned and total way that gets me hot. I could feel my juices begin to surge, my clit begin to tick, and my nipples begin to grow erect. And all this you must remember, in the midst of a battle to the death! That animal sexual instinct just keeps churning it out, even under the craziest circumstances! So I fought on, and rather enjoyed the warm horny glow that was beginning to fill me, at the same time that I struggled to keep myself from getting too badly mauled.
But I kept the battle going but my thoughts were turning more and more to the prospects of fucking. I found that when people get really angry-especially women-it's usually because they are in bad need of a fuck, and so what entered my mind was a kind of way of making a fuck grow out of this fighting. It might be a very worthwhile enterprise. Accordingly, rather than attacking the bitch's body directly, I began tearing at her clothes. After a couple of minutes of pinching and struggling I managed to rip her shirt damned near off her. I tore a couple of the buttons, and the flimsy cloth lay spread apart across her heaving chest and tits. Of course she was the type to wear a bra-a black lace one that pushed her boobies up nice and high, and so I had one more obstacle to get through before her tits were exposed. But that obstacle proved not to be too-much trouble at all, because as soon as I had an opening I slipped a couple of fingers in the cleft between her breasts, and ripped the lace clear down the middle, giving her cleft a nice long red fingernail mark in the process.
Whether she was consciously up for a fuck by this time I have no idea, but she seemed to be aping my technique very closely. It wasn't long before my T-shirt was torn off me-and since I've never been the type to wear a bra, my breasts were exposed in one fell swoop. So now the two of us lay there still struggling, although we were beginning to get a wee bit fatigued, wrestling tit to tit, pinching and scratching at each other's nipples and at the same time we tried to wrestle each other into submission.
Well, all this tit play made me even hotter and I was determined now to get down to her cunt. Still struggling, I wrestled her into a position where I could grab her between the legs. While she thrashed and struggled to get free, I worked my thumb and the web of my hand roughly against her straining crotch. Through her skin tight pants I could feel that her pussy was wet-she was every bit as up for a fuck as I was, maybe more, so who the hell was she trying to kid with this wrestling routine? I could feel that her cunt lips were softened by the juices that were pouring out of her, and they yielded under my pressing hand with a sort of delightful squish. ;
But although minute to minute we were getting closer to our real intentions and getting down to a fuck, neither of us wanted to give up the fight. We struggled on, and though now most of our wrestling consisted of a rotation of our hips we still strained against each other with bared teeth and darting fingernails. My skin was scratched raw in several places, and I could feel that I had welts that were beginning to swell. But each new onslaught of her sharp fingernails now excited me more-I was at the point where every bit of pain was beginning to become pleasurable.
But I kept my hand in her crotch, kept working it. There are various ways to take the fight out of a woman and drawing her attention down to her pussy is the best one I know! And sure enough, her strong struggling body began to grow slightly limp and malleable under the constant pressure of my hand. As soon as I saw an opening, I dropped my other hand to her waistline and quickly undid the buttons and zipper of her pants. From there on in, it was just a matter of a few seconds before I had them off her, before I had her stark naked before me except for those high black leather boots, which she seemed intent on wearing and the idea of which turned me on so much that I wouldn't have taken them off her even if she had wanted me to.
I still had my own pants on, "and this difference made me feel very in control. It was almost like a mirror image of the night before-now I was the one strutting around dressed, or at least half dressed, and this bitch, my victim, was nude before me. I relished the image for awhile, while I slipped a couple'of fingers into her wet snatch. My intuition about her needing a fuck turned out to be perfectly right-as soon as the fingers went into her all the fight went out, and her hissing and threatening chatter suddenly turned to a kind of sexual groaning and moaning.
I must admit that I could understand why Jim liked her cunt-it was sort of tight and very resilient. Her juices were thick and slippery, the juices of a mature woman who loves to ball. I worked her at a slow and luxurious pace, letting two fingers slip in and out of her spongy hole as naturally as could be.
As if I needed any further proof that the fight had gone out of her, she brought her hands up to her own nipples and began stroking them. She seized each of the two erect buds between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed them gently, twisting them slightly, giving herself bits of masturbatory pleasure which added to the bliss I knew she was feeling from the pressure of my fingers. Just as I'd thought, this was the fuck she'd been needing all along!
I was excited to see her touching her own breasts-the thought of other women masturbating has always been a turn-on for me-and so
I slipped a third finger into the gooey warmth of her hole and picked up the pace of my frigging a bit. She responded by working her nipples a little more roughly, by twisting them a bit farther, by making them sting a bit and so enhancing her pleasure. She lay back flat on the couch and her head rocked slowly from side to side. All the energy that she had had for fighting now was going into the passive but very intense enjoyment of my hands and her own. I was now thoroughly enjoying my role as pleasure giver, and so I slunk down between her legs in order to eat her cunt. I worked my way down slowly, teasingly running my tongue along the curve of her belly and thighs before I began to lick lightly at her open lips.
She had been sweating profusely from the strain of the struggle and I greedily licked up the salty sweat that had pooled in her navel and the cracks of her thighs. And though the salty sweat was delicious, the strong and fishy taste of her cunt was more delicious still! The viscosity of the juices surprised me-what she was turning out was pure sweet cream, undiluted. I eagerly lapped it up, working my tongue deep into the fleshy crevice, gulping it down greedily, swallowing her juices with their sweet load of hormones. I let my upper lip play over her pubic hair, I let my chin rub sensuously over the bottom part of her crack and her asshole, I was enjoying it thoroughly, and she was also-she worked her nipples more and more firmly as I could see as I lasciviously looked up the entire length of her body to her tits, and her moaning and groaning gained in intensity.
While all this was going on I suddenly found myself diddling my own clit! Without even being aware of it, I had dropped my right hand between my own legs and had undone my pants and reached in. What I found came as no surprise-I was soaking wet, and my cunt lips were already puffy with anticipation. So I treated myself to a goodly dose of my own fingers, and while I was rotating my hips in rhythm to my own frigging I gradually worked my pants until they were down around my knees. Keeping my face buried in the muff of the erstwhile wrestler I frigged myself more and more vigorously, enjoying the feel of my cunt and the taste of hers.
I was so involved in my various sensations that I didn't even hear the door open and someone enter. Only gradually did I become aware that someone was standing behind me! And the woman on the couch seemed to be staring straight up. It pained me to have to remove my face from her wonderful crack for even a second, but I swiveled my head around and there stood Jim! He looked down at the two of us, and from the strained look on his face, and the way his breath came in short spurts, I could tell that he was totally turned on by the sight of the two of us there fucking each other. He stared down at us, letting his gaze wander from my exposed ass and my fingers between my legs to his woman's wide-open cunt, her legs smeared with her own cunt sap and my saliva, her long torso and her heavy tits that were erect and getting very pink from all the attention she was paying to them. The three of us looked at each other in a sort of sexual stupor, and no one was capable of uttering a word. But then, either because she wanted to apologize for her previous jealously or because she wanted to repay me for the pleasure I was giving her by eating her cunt, Jim's woman looked up at him and said, "Go ahead, Jim, stick it to her, I don't mind."
Jim looked down at her with a baffled look on his face. I was sure that he was just aching to fuck me, but it seemed that he couldn't quite believe his ears. He couldn't quite believe that one good lesbian wrestling match and fuck would be sufficient to cure his woman of her jealousy. But when she repeated her words, assuring him that she didn't mind, telling him that 'she wanted to see him fuck another woman, he lost no time in slipping out of his clothes and standing there before the two of us with his wonderful cock as stiff and erect as I had ever seen it in the corn fields of Missouri.
I suppose he didn't want to disturb the configuration we had set up so he just came around in back of me and let his thick tool dangle temptingly against my crack as I lay there still buried in her muff. Spurred on by the prospect of getting his delicious prick inside me, I ate her pussy with greater and greater intensity, pushing my face deeper and deeper into it as I felt the very head of his dick begin to push my lips apart. Always the tease, he tantalized me for a while, practically driving me insane with the cool perfection of his own restraint. Inch by inch he let his thick dick find its way into my hungry pussy, and with each new little bit of prick I felt, I sensed another layer of my own soreness-the soreness left over from last night's gang fuck-wrack my pussy with pleasurable pain. Finally he got the whole thing inside me and I thrilled to the feel of its well-remembered length. My head was jerking spastically, now, and I was eating his woman's pussy with terrific intensity. She was shrieking and her head was swaying back and forth-she may very well have been coming the whole time, I'm not quite sure. But now Jim began to hump me rhythmically from behind. In and out, in and out, he let his stomach slap sensuously against my ass while he drove his thick spike deep into my raw cunt.
I could barely breathe, my head was buried so deeply in her crotch, and I wiggled my ass to provide a more challenging target to the advantage of Jim's dick. I felt in a highly privileged position, being the middle link in this wonderful chain of fucking. Now Jim increased his pace, working it in and out of me with more vigor; and as if I felt obliged to give more pleasure in compensation for the extra pleasure that I was receiving, I now brought my hands up to Jim's woman's cunt and began to finger her while I ate her. Her cunt was wide open, I could slip a couple of fingers in and still leave adequate room for my tongue to probe. She responded to this dual treatment by shrieking all the more, and by humping my face, by moving her hips so firmly that she almost bruised my nose and cheek as she rubbed against me.
Jim too apparently remembered something very special about me, something that he esr pecially enjoyed-after getting his dick nice and well oiled in my cunt, he laid the thick knob of it against the button of my asshole and pushed gently. I hadn't had much ass fucking in a long time, and the thought of having that thick prick in that special place thrilled me all the more. I waved my ass lasciviously against the head of his dick, and very soon the sphincter began to relax and admit the huge piece of flesh into me. I felt the different kind of pressure which gratitude and excitement made even more sensitive. That smaller hole, that tighter place, produces a special kind of sensation, a feeling of fullness almost to the bursting point.
And now Jim began humping me there in that other place with his measured and restrained rhythm. Standing there on his knees, he let his thick prick flow in and out of me in an inevitable almost metronomic rhythm. The sensation droned into a constant rhythm of pleasure, and I swayed my ass in syncopation with it. I ate the cunt, the clitoris, I lapped up the juices, and at the same time my ass was being fucked!
I felt myself rising toward orgasm as Jim increased the pace of his fucking-I have always found it exquisitely perverse and sort of strange about myself that I can have orgasms by getting I fucked in the ass! There's something exquisitely unnatural about it! Without having my cunt stimulated at all, except by the wonderful indirect stimulation through the other side of the membrane, I can bring myself to delightful peaks! And that's exactly what was happening now. Jim crashed into me harder and harder, the head of his unyielding dick pressing against the turn in the road of my intestines, threatening me. And on the other side of the membrane my cunt was surging its own juices, I could feel them dripping onto my stomach and onto the rug. Again and again he crashed into me and as soon as I felt the first hot spurt of his come deep in my ass I lost all restraint and began having hot frantic pulses of my own! I lifted my ass high in the air to give him maximum exposure and he struck me still more deeply as his cock gave its final swell towards spurting the bulk of its come. I took one final long suck at the clit of Jim's woman's cunt and she let out a scream that let me know that she had reached her own final peak. We stayed there poised, all our muscles tensed, perfectly still, to savor the last vibrations of this triple orgasm and then the three of us collapsed in each other's arms right there on the living-room rug.
EPILOGUE
Well there's nothing like a good bit of fucking to make fast friends or enemies. Jim's woman--whose name turned out to be Rona--was soon as chummy with me as could be. Her former jealousy had been changed in the course of that wonderful fuck into a tremendous feeling of sisterhood. She was perfectly willing to share Jim-with me or with any other woman for that matter because she now realized that the bisexual fucking she could expect in return paid tremendous dividends of pleasure. And Jim, who had formerly feared his woman's jealousy, and who had thus been depriving himself of some of the world's finest pleasures-not counting of course the gang fucks in which he would engage on the sly-now found himself enjoying himself more than ever and feeling closer to Rona than he ever had. He was grateful to her for her understanding and they were more turned on to each other than ever before because they could see more aspects of the other's sexuality.
I myself felt very proud of having been the agent of their new sexual awareness. Of course the main idea of one's sexuality is to provide pleasure for oneself, but it's also nice to know that you can bring a little joy to others here and there along the line.
Well, I stayed on with them for a few days. It was a wonderful time of long talks, snared drunks, and tremendous amount of exquisite fucking. In addition to the three of us, a couple of Jim's biker friends paid visits and we managed to get some pretty good foursomes and fivesomes in which Rona was an active and enthusiastic participant. They seemed to be happier than ever and the affection that I had always felt for Jim now came back redoubled. I felt very relieved and relaxed that I didn't have to hide my feelings for him-Rona would understand that I didn't want to take him away, I just wanted to dig him and, yes, even love him in my own way. After all, it had been Jim who had introduced me to all this sex, and also to the joys of motorcycles. He had played a very important role in my life-it was his own special sort of intensity and the horny but restrained look in his deep eyes that first really awakened the depth of my own sexuality.
The three of us got along so well that after a few days Rona asked me to stay on with them on an indefinite basis. We could be a sort of motorcycle m�nage a trios, and the three of us would all be on equal ground in terms of each other. It was a tempting offer and it showed just how far Rona had come in her own sexual awakening.
But not without a certain amount of regret, I turned down the offer. I had bought the motorcycle to be on the road, and I intended to stay oh the road for a good while. No offer, no matter how tempting it was, would have been able to hold me back at this point. Jim and Rona and the city of Los Angeles would no doubt have offered me opportunities for wonderful fucking and opportunities, to meet some really far-out people. But what I was most in the mood for was traveling. What I wanted to do was move around, to see every highway in this country, to wield my big Kawasaki through every state of the union.
I can't explain the feeling exactly, but it's somehow linked to my sex life. I want to be everywhere and experience everything. I want to be free and I want to be on the road. The thought of leaving my motorcycle parked in front of a house and of just using it to run out to the store to buy groceries or to take an occasional trip to the shore for the weekend was just not my idea of what riding is all about. No, I'm the type who likes to do the cross-country touring, who doesn't like to have a home base, only for a few days at a time.
So one day, about a week after my first arrival in Los Angeles, I quietly slipped out of the apartment. Jim and Rona were still asleep, sleeping off the fatigue from a full day's fucking the day before, and I just left them a note on the kitchen table thanking them for their hospitality and telling them that I'd stop back sometime. Long good-byes have never been my style, and I didn't want the tears or the platitudes that I was sure would accompany my departure. So I just left my note on the kitchen table and kissed them each softly on the forehead, being careful not to wake them, and I left. Outside, I climbed onto my bike, started it up, and headed out of LA onto the open road.
