The sky was lemon colored; and the canopy stretching over the entrance of the Park Avenue building glowed golden. A tall young girl emerged from the lobby and stood for a moment, bathed in the weirdly yellow light. By her side, the uniformed doorman said: "I'll give Mr. Graham your message soon as he gets in."
"Can't I wait upstairs? It's not as if I'm a thief, I'm related to him. And I haven't anywhere to go."
"Sorry, that's not permitted. Besides, we've only passkeys to some of the apartments."
Joyce Kelly sighed her regret. She waited for a break in traffic and rushed across the wide street. Men arrested by her striking good looks stared, others whistled. Her athletic body was provocative and invited comments. She was tall, about five-feet-nine, perhaps a shade too voluptuous with the great plump mounds of her breasts straining against the confines of her black sweater, but there was not an ounce of surplus fat on her. Her waist was slim, her stomach flat, her legs long, smooth and tan.
Although she was only twenty, Joyce had the sultry expression of an older and sensuous woman. Her face, strikingly beautiful, was filled, in with dark-lashed green eyes, a straight, tip-tilted nose and a rather full and sulky mouth. Her streaky blonde hair, like tangled silk, tumbled about her shoulders; and as she walked rapidly into the cocktail lounge it spread out like a suddenly opened fan.
The place was dimly lit and it took several seconds for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. At this time of evening it was only a quarter filled, yet the drinkers watched her as she headed for a booth. Her fantastically-structured body was a miracle of femininity.
Joyce feigned indifference. A few of the men ventured comments, but she kept her eyes front. She was aware of the effect created by the tight black skirt and wished she could quell the rhythmic grind of her overripe buttocks and the bounce of her breasts.
The booth she chose was high, commanding a view of the street beyond. She ordered black coffee, ignoring the waiter's suggestion that she take liquor as everything in this Park Avenue lounge started at one dollar.
"No, just black coffee!" She spread her raincoat along the seat and brought out her cigarettes. Someone fed coins into the juke, and as music surged through the place a man stepped up to her. He was young but balding, looking like a Madison Avenue reject in his slope-shouldered Ivy League suit and regimental tie.
"Need company?"
Joyce fanned his whisky breath from her face. "If you don't leave me alone I'll ask for help from the management. If that doesn't work I'll call a cop."
The man whistled. "Tough as nails. Just shows how damned deceiving looks are." He went back to the bar.
With a half-hour the sky changed colors and street lamps came on. She checked her watch and left the lounge, taking up position on the corner facing the apartment building.
She stood there, impatiently shifting the weight of her lush body from one leg to the other, waiting for the one man in the world who could help her, Alan Graham.
After a while it became chilly. A wind tore down the street and she turned up the collar of her raincoat. Passing couples looked at her. A sports convertible pulled up for a light and a lad with a crew cut shouted for her to join him for a wild ride. Joyce ignored him; she was concentrating on the huge, modernistic dwelling.
Presently, her heart skipped a beat. An old Porsche had drawn up and a tall man, accompanied by a woman in a woolen suit, got out. Under the lamplights Alan Graham looked young, much younger than the last time she had seen him. She hesitated, curbing an impulse to dash across the street and confront him. She stepped into the gutter and a car shot by. The driver hammered on his horn and Joyce leaped back with a yelp of surprise. She watched the receding taillights; the couple had gone. She returned to her position on the corner, feeling very lonely. This feeling was aided by the moan of a boat whistle from the nearby East River.
Alan opened the door of his apartment and stood aside, allowing Jacqueline Tenner to enter first. She sauntered in as if she was paying the rent on the place, switched on the ceiling lights and removed her jacket. She stepped before the foyer mirror and examined herself, patting her carefully set dark brown hair and checking to see if the mascara on her wide blue eyes was smudged.
He watched her, shaking his head, thinking that she really loved herself. Wordlessly, he stepped over to a battered walnut sideboard and mixed two highballs.
"Easy on the soda, darling."
"Always easy on everything, especially you."
"Not always." She smiled enigmatically and slipped into his arms, pressing her big, sinuous body against his and rotating her pelvis rapidly.
"Hey, cut that out." Whisky sloshed out of the glasses and dribbled down Alan's hand.
Jacqueline pecked at his lips and took her drink into the bathroom. He looked after her then shook his head and crossed over to the windows. He felt lost and empty; in no mood for her. She originally came from a small town in Iowa and for four years had worked as a librarian. She was twenty-six, ten years younger than he and as tall as his six feet in high heels.
As he sipped his drink Alan admitted that she was a stunning brunette, with enormous, melon-shaped breasts; but she was getting fat. Her waist was no longer slender, her hips and thighs were too padded with flesh and her legs, while long, were heavy.
He wasn't in love with her, but had promised to marry her and there was no one else in sight worth settling down with. Then, too, his physical needs for her had increased, more so recently, since her moral barriers had weakened. On former occasions he could expect only kisses, but now she allowed him to fondle and explore the more intimate areas of her large, womanly body. He would knead the big breasts and stroke the round buttocks until his insistent desires willed him to attack her. Despite his pleas she managed to hold off, whispering in that breathless way of hers to wait, until they were married.
"Alan!" The bathroom door edged open and a triangle of light knifed into the darkness. Jacqueline emerged, taking long pulls at her drink. She padded out barefoot and naked except for an old cotton robe loosely belted about her middle.
The game was starting. Wearily, he tightened the Venetian blinds and switched off the ceiling lights in favor of a small table lamp. He slipped out of his jacket, removed his tie and started to unbutton his shirt.
"No, darling, not all the way."
"But what the hell, you're naked!"
"Not the both of us, darling, you promised. I might become too aroused."
"Then what the hell you think happens to me?"
"Well there's satisfaction of a sort for you, and making you happy pleases me. Later, after we're married you can satisfy me physically too." She threw back her head and tossed off the dregs of her drink.
Her long brown hair had been loosened and he toyed with it, wrapping thick strands about his fingers. "You're a nut, do you know that?"
"I'm human, too, darling, but we've got to wait."
"Damn it to hell! This business of necking every night and getting so damned hot and bothered is pointless. You've got me so tortured that I just can't sleep. What's wrong? You'll still be able to face the world knowing the guy you gave your virginity to is the one you married. You're worse than a damned tease."
"Oh, you're upset, darling." She tugged the unfinished drink out of his hand. "Let me help you. I'll comfort you and then you won't be angry with me."
"No! I'm finished' with that routine. Get your clothes back on because I'm leaving now to go out and find myself a whore." He contemplated the huge spheres with their pointed and erotic tips. "I'm tired of your damned nonsense."
She brushed strands of hair from her forehead and her breasts spilled out of the robe, rising buoyantly, blinding white. "Darling, don't say such things."
Alan, aroused by her nudity, reached for her. His hands slid into the negligee and traveled over her wide hips. She gasped for breath-like attired swimmer and in the near darkness her blue eyes took on a strange light. For a few seconds she fought to keep her face away-from his. Suddenly, she ceased struggling, melting like warm butter as their mouths fastened together. Her fingers eagerly parted his shirt and gripped his naked, hard back.
"Jacqueline, you do want me."
"Oh, darling, darling, I do ... but ... "
"But, hell." It was a chance not to be missed and he decided to take her. He pinioned her against the wall and her vibrant, lithe body began to pulse with passion. Her flesh became a mass of ripples as she brought every muscle into play. His blood raced, and when he caressed the gigantic mounds she abandoned herself and ground her thighs against him in a frenzy.
"Oh, darling, give me a moment ... to catch my breath ... I feel ... so wild!" She untied the belt, exposing herself, all naked and glorious.
Alan felt the quick spurt of desire yet he hesitated, not wanting to take her in this position. He preferred a bed, but in the few minutes it would take to get her there she might cool off. It was best to take full advantage of her offerings now.
She pressed her rump against the wall, spread her legs apart and balanced her breasts on his chest. Bracing himself, he squeezed the warm flesh gently, feeling each sphere grow firm and taut in his cupped hands. They were almost of abnormal size, sagging slightly because of their weight, and when his tongue lashed them Jacqueline's head went back, her eyes closed and she gasped, "oh, darling ... my darling!"
One arm coiled around his neck and the other slid down, the hand fumbling frantically with his clothes. As she held him, there was a roaring in his head. He dug his fingers into the plump, curving thighs and pressed forward. She quivered, uttered a soft cry and just as he sought to fit himself to her, broke free.
"You teasing tramp!"
She pivoted on her bare feet and raced into the bathroom, the well-upholstered cheeks of her bottom undulating with her every step.
Aching from anticipation he stifled a moan and reached for his drink. What a lousy bitch! If she thought he would marry her she had another think coming! Oh, brother! He grimaced. What a tramp! His hands were still warm from the heat of her body. And along his back a hundred nerves throbbed from her biting fingernails. Tonight, she had been unable to control her passion and had almost yielded.
Marriage, he snorted. That's the trouble with women. It's strictly a sexual hunger and she refuses to recognize it as such. Why the hell must she tote out the ball and chain and keep him enslaved for life. Hell,.-she should know by now that he didn't love her.
He shoved aside the bathroom door. The lights above revealed the satiny sheen of her ripe body. Jacqueline, aware of his scrutiny, stepped into her panties. Humming to herself she pulled her woolen skirt down over her rounded thighs and too-wide, slightly fat buttocks.
"You're not sore, are you, darling?"
"Who, me? Are you joking? Why, hell, I'm positively overjoyed!"
"You needn't be sarcastic." Her breasts bounced as she fitted them into the cups of the lacey brassiere. "I wanted to, darling, but I just couldn't."
He folded his arms over his chest and contemplated her. She was a healthy-looking, full-lipped girl. Her nose was arched, with wide nostrils and her eyes were blue and wide-set. Never considered beautiful by other women, probably due to her voluptuous proportions, she was nevertheless a handsome woman. Now, at twenty-six, she was at the peak of her physical beauty. Within a few years, time and more fat would attack that body. Maybe she was so aware of this, he thought, that she was frantic to make this relationship a permanent one.
He handed her the jacket to her suit. "Drop in again when you're in a teasing mood. Nothing I enjoy more than being worked up."
"Are you going to drive me home?"
"You only live a few blocks away."
"It'll take time to walk there. Damn it, I have to get up early to work tomorrow. Do you think I can loaf like you?"
Ah hah! It was out at last, the old unending argument. He wanted to write and she wanted him to get a. permanent job. In the past it had entered his mind that his profession limited their relationship. She didn't want to be just another artist's mistress. Once married, however, she could control the reins and force him to pursue the old nine-to-five route.
"Now don't condemn my career. I told you that things were picking up."
"Where, oh, where have I heard that before?. Just look at this dump. You've got the smallest apartment in a Park Avenue building, and even so you must struggle like hell to pay the rent on it. It'd be so much better for you to move in with me."
"If we get married, I'm saying if, I'll dictate where we'll live. And another thing, you've got a roommate. She's been a good friend to you, what do you expect to do, bounce her out on the ear?"
"Allison! But she expects to lose me. She knows it's just a matter of time before we tie the knot."
"But she doesn't expect to be roofless."
She opened the door. "Alan, you better make up your mind about me in a hurry. Sex is all you want and I've gone as far with you in that direction as I intend to, I'm giving you twenty-four hours to make up your mind to trot down to City Hall with me. That's all." Her lips stretched into a wide smile. "You know, Wallace Robbins has been phoning me for dates."
Alan allowed his mind to dwell for a moment on Wallace Robbins, a short, blond playboy, twice divorced, whose name appeared occasionally in the gossip columns of newspapers. He had a boat anchored somewhere off Long Island sound, drove a red Ferrari, bragged about his suits (custom-made in Paris at a cost of $400 each) and lived in a swank, East 65th Street duplex. He was a fink, and a first-rate phony, but all the same the women chased after him.
"That son of a bitch!"
"He's interested in me, Alan."
"For one thing only."
"And what about yourself?"
"I offered to marry you! Don't make any comparisons between me and that rat."
"Offered, darling. It's about time you suited a little action to that promise." She waved good-bye and left.
He slammed the door after her, not wanting to see her as she waited for the elevator. The lousy tease! He refilled his glass, making this drink stronger than the last, threw himself into a chair and reread the morning's mail. It was all nothing, mostly bills and dunning letters except from the note from Joyce Kelly. It was the third in a row from the girl he had treated as a relative, a niece perhaps, and always thought of as a child. It had been so long ago since that abortive affair with her mother. He remembered Joyce then as a gangling child of ten. She must be ... he closed his eyes, counting the years past ... at least twenty. Good Lord, where did the time all go to?
It seemed incredible. A child he hadn't seen in years now a woman writing that she was in trouble and he was the only person who could help her.
What sort of trouble, what sort of help?
Alan was suddenly aware that his senses were still aroused. He ached from frustration and had half a mind to phone Jacqueline and promise to marry her the next day if she would give herself to him tonight.
Damn it, but a man should have a steady woman, one willing to give herself without complications. He picked up his old address book, scanning through the names of his recent past, wondering which girls were available and would take kindly to his just popping in on them.
Suddenly, he tossed the book aside, remembering the ex-prostitute who resided in the building, on the floor below. Her name was Eleanor Frezell. She was a woman in her forties who might have once been beautiful, commanding a hundred dollars a night for her services. Now she was fat, living off stocks purchased for her by former stock-broker clients and surrounded by poodles and a false facade. Not a bad sort really, and on a few occasions he had cracked a bottle with her. But that was so long ago. All the same ... his hand hovered above the telephone. On impulse he dialed her number.
"Hello, Eleanor? Alan here. Yes, yes, Alan from upstairs."
"Alan, baby! Where've you been keeping yourself. At one time you'd drop in for a drink but I haven't seen you in ages."
He decided to be blunt. "Sweetheart, I've got troubles."
"Financial?"
"The other kind."
"Oh, oh!"
"Don't get insulted, sweetheart. I mean, I'm not trying to bug you or anything, you understand."
"Haven't you got a girl? I've seen you in the lobby with a tall brunette, a sort of a bitchy type."
"She won't go."
"With a guy of your looks! The hell's wrong with her? Drop her fast, Alan, baby." She inhaled deeply, taking a deep breath before she continued. "It's been strictly friendship between us in the past, baby, but I guess I can help out a friend."
"Eleanor, you're a doll." Alan hung up, slipped on his jacket and raced down the stairs to the woman's apartment. Her door was open and she admitted him at once. She smelled of perfume and her dyed blonde hair was piled high atop her well-shaped head. As she moved toward her decanters to get him a drink her quilted satin housecoat billowed out revealing strong-looking thighs and full legs.
"What'll you take, bourbon or Scotch?"
"Sweetheart, I don't want a drink." He was too eager for her, wanting to engage immediately in a mauling. She was not wearing a brassiere and her mature breasts, sagging slightly, were bursting the shiny material of the housecoat.
She corked the whiskey bottles and eyed him with undisguised desire. She pursed her lips and nodded a few times, as if he would be on a trader's block and she, the potential buyer, estimating his sexual worth.
"Strange when you come to think of it, Alan, but it's been strictly friendship with us. You'd think half the tenants in this building know about my former profession. The passes I get." She went into a pose and unbuttoned the housecoat.
His eyes took in the large, naked thighs and at once, he felt a searing stab of lust. As she walked about, deliberately kicking the garment back he saw the white flesh of her enormous buttocks quiver in a rhythm that burned him from top to toe.
"Eleanor," he drooled, "you're a pal."
She swept the robe back, exposing herself completely, standing with her hands flattened on her massive hips. Her voluminous breasts jiggled, widening the deep valley in-between. "Got it real bad, eh, friend? Hell, you're so good-looking! I can't see why you can't find a woman willing to service you and enjoy herself as well, in the process. This thing works both ways but a lot of people don't realize that."
"I'm damned glad that you do." He slipped out of his jacket and tossed it across a red velvet armchair. As he discarded the rest of his clothing he thought that the apartment was tastefully furnished and not at all in keeping with Eleanor's former game.
She switched off all the lights. In the dark her eyes looked black, almost evil. "AU set, honey?" Her hands slid over his shoulders, tested the muscles in his arms and roamed over his chest. "You've got a good physique. No, I just don't understand women nowadays. Tell me, are you going to marry that tall broad?"
"I've had second thoughts."
"Smart boy." Her arms locked around him and her wet, open mouth was pasted to his. He felt her tongue, rasping and darting and probing while at the same time the massive thighs kept opening and closing.
He clutched her great breasts, pinching their tips until they thickened like stubby screws. It sent a shudder throughout the length of her, and he swiftly shoved his hand down over the domed belly. It did something to her and she fought for freedom, but he held her fast, his tongue entwined with hers, his knee riding between her heavy, shivering thighs.
"Oh, honey!"
"Like it?"
"Love it. Honey, you don't know what it's like for a gal like me when I can really let myself go and hold back nothing ... not like with the Johns when I thought about all sorts of things while they exhausted themselves."
"Do it, sweetheart, let yourself go." Alan continued to knead and press the mammoth buttocks, at the same time increasing the rhythm of his pumping knee. The enormous thighs opened and closed until Eleanor ground herself against him and took his mouth in a fierce kiss.
When at last he tore his mouth free, he told her he had to take her now, he was unable to hold out for another minute. She dropped to her haunches and rolled back upon the rug like a big cat. He glanced down at her and saw her awaiting him with arched back and enormous hips switching from side to side.
"On the floor?"
"Yes, baby, oh, please! The rug feels just like grass. Pretend we're lovers, out in the country, taking advantage of our passions."
Alan knelt and crept over the big, threshing body. They explored one another with quick, damp hands and after minor adjustments secured the most suitable position. The heavy thighs yawned open, gleaming whitely in the darkness. She shouted, "now, right now, please kiss me!"
He sank his teeth into her lower lip, reveling in her gasps and sinous tongue. She rose as he bore down, and the initial thrust into her soft bulk had her wild and rearing up.
"Oh, you ... you hurt! Oh, honey ... it ... it hurts!"
"Easy, baby, easy or it'll be over too quickly for me." He pressed her back, amazed at the size of her. Her breasts and thighs were immense, and considering her age, surprisingly hard, like rubber. Her stomach was a deflated pillow, big and soft enough to cushion his weight.
"Oh, baby ... yes, just like that with your hands."
He did as he was bid. She immediately began to moan and caress him, saying the most vulgar things. Her eyes were tightly closed, her dyed hair spread out as she tossed her head from side to side.
Slowly, he blended with her and she let out an ear-piercing scream. They kneaded together, slowly, everlastingly slowly. But a few seconds of this had Eleanor raging and set a quicker pace, forcing Alan to be carried along. She used the motions learned so long ago, artful, yet maddeningly rapid. She meant to exhaust him with her knowledgeable body.
"Too quick, baby, much too quick!"
"You're a man," she gasped, "come on, bring me along with you."
It was a challenge and Alan rose to meet it. He was surprised at her strength and passion; her sexual appetites were ravenous. But, she was not going to win, she could not win because he washer master. He levered himself cruelly, forcing her to yell from pain and pleasure.
"Baby!"
He ignored her protests and battered her recklessly, joining her in a shuddering and heaving that brought them simultaneous deliverance. She lay back first, Alan, seconds afterwards.
"Thank you, sweetheart, I. needed that ... boy, did I need that."
She passed a hand over his dark, short hair and dabbed at his sweat-streaked temples with her fingers. Her eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. "It was so good ... that, in a few minutes ... we'll have to go again,"
"Drink?" He rose and stood on shaking legs.
"A cigarette'll be better, honey." She sat up. The folds of her stomach writhed like wet snakes and her gigantic breasts drooped, their thickened tips pointing at different angles.
"You better let me get my breath back."
"You can go a second time, can't you?" She took the cigarette from him, propped herself up on one side with an elbow and smoked.
"Yes, but I've got to get my second wind first."
"When it's like this, happening at the same time for both of us, believe me there's nothing in the world better. Nothing." Smoke dribbled out of her nostrils. In the shadows her face looked handsome and high-cheekboned, her lips soft and wet. "Loving is something I want to hold on to for a long time and yet, I should have relinquished it long ago. I'm forty-six, you know."
He shook his head. She appeared fat, but there was a hard, spongy quality to her massive body and outside of the lines on her face and her dyed hair, Alan would have guessed Eleanor to be about forty-one or two.
She slapped her thighs. "Pretty good, huh? Most gals ten years younger are all flab. Not me, except for my pot. I can't do a damned thing about that. But my boobs are terrific, aren't they, even if they sag a bit."
Alan nodded, remembering that Jacqueline's breasts, better shaped than this woman's, certainly more resilient, did sag, too. "I don't know of a woman whose breasts don't unless they've got pebbles on their chests."
"Yes, but I've got pumpkins."
He studied her, tracing the curves of the heaving globes, ready to plunge his fingers into the soft, white flesh. He took the smoldering cigarette from her, mashed it out and threw himself atop her. Her hands held tightly to his pumping shoulders as her mouth searched for his. Their tongues met, interlaced and dueled, lashing about from the cave of his mouth to hers.'
"You're all set for me, darling!" she gasped. "I can tell you are."
"Yes, yes."
"Take me!" She thrust herself up as he plunged down and they became one, joined in a searing union. It went even better this time for them both. She repeatedly asked to be taken in different positions and he accommodated her, carrying her with him to the heights of ecstasy, reaching a summit that rewarded them with a mutual and explosive climax.
Later, he showered in her bathroom and dressed himself. Eleanor never heard Alan leave. She was curled up on the floor, sleeping like a contented child.
In his apartment he peeled off his clothing, mixed himself a drink and cursed Jacqueline for being such a damned tease. He had half a mind to phone her and torment her with the events of the past twenty minutes. Damned tease! Sipping his drink he turned on his stereo set, working the tuner until he found a combo playing some cool jazz. Nodding his head in time to the music he happened to sight the letter that upset him earlier in the evening.
What, he wondered, did that kid want? How could he be the only one for her to turn to? Hell, her mother had lovers and there were all sorts of snooty relatives floating about up there in Connecticut where they lived.
The family was just rolling in the dough. That's all he needed now, a twenty-year-old kid with troubles.
The buzzer sounded. Alan whispered into the gadget hooked up with the main lobby. "Yes?"
It was the doorman. "Mr. Graham, you've got a visitor, a young lady. She just went up."
"What?"
"I thought it was alright. I hope I'm not causing an incident."
His doorbell rang. "No, no, forget it." He crossed over to the door and opened it, expecting to see Jacqueline listen to her apology. A girl stood there, smiling shyly.
"What the hell!" He opened the door wider, unaware for the moment that he was barefooted, in the bottom half of pajamas, standing there with a drink in his hand.
"Don't you remember me? I'm Joyce Kelly."
He took in the green eyes, the full sulky mouth and the tangled wealth of blonde hair and thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Yes ... " he-mumbled, "I remember you, but God, you've grown! You're a giant!" He ushered her in, suddenly remembered his drink and downed it with one fast gulp. He headed for the whiskey bottle. "I don't suppose you drink?"
"At my age? Of course, I do, and I smoke, also."
He hurriedly mixed two highballs and handed her one. "I think of your mother all the time; after all, we were very much in love. But you were a tot the last time I saw you and I was never one to give second thoughts to kids."
She peeled off her raincoat and accepted his offer to make herself at home. As she sat on the couch and crossed her long legs the tight skirt crept up high over the glowing flesh of her firm, curving thighs. The movement, however slight, threw up an onrush of air, comprised "of body heat and perfume, that assaulted his senses.
Alan found himself staring at the woman he still imagined was a child. She was stacked, he thought, in a scandalous way. Each deep breath caused the lush mounds to pop up like suddenly released balloons. And that sensuous mouth, and those eyes! He was aware that the girl was looking at him in a strange, rather wide-eyed way.
He cleared his throat. "Ah, your letter indicated you were in some kind of trouble."
"I don't quite know how to explain it to you." She ran long fingers through the thick mane of blonde hair, an action that brought her tantalizing breasts up at full tilt. "The friends I have are, well, just acquaintances really. You know how it is with school kids. They claim I've the same evil blood in me as my mother. So there's no help forthcoming from them. As for my mother ... well, I guess, we hate each other and she's too busy taking care of her gigolos to care about me." Her discomfort was obvious; she was not inclined to continue. Yet, as if to assert herself she stared boldly at him. "Maybe you're beginning to understand. I've had a lot of boys-I'm sick of college and I want to see more of life. So I thought of you.
Flushed, he looked elsewhere, surprised at what he saw in the cat-like green eyes. There was challenge in that young sensuality, and Joyce was willfully testing the power of her attraction. He admitted that anatomically, she was outstanding, possessing one of the most well-upholstered frames he had seen on a girl; nature developed them big these days. But what was more frightening was the powerful effect she exerted on him. He had just finished with one woman yet this kid was driving him back into the world of sex.
"Is it school trouble?'
"I've walked out of school, I can't take it anymore. It's time I came to terms with reality."
Oh, brother, and laid right on his doorstep too. "I take it you think I should assist you."
"Right. The girl you once patted on the head and called your little honey bunch ten years ago has turned into a promiscuous lady. Although it seems pretty dumb now."
"Holy crow! But why come to me?"
"You can imagine what my home was like. Men coming and going like a train station or a damned hotel. There was no one to turn to. The few people who treated me with any kindness while I was a child are all dead; you're the only one still alive."
"But!" He clapped a hand to his head. "To just pop up like this, after so many years. Your letter was a shock-and how you!"
"I need a friend," she said breathlessly, "help me to get a fresh start!"
"Now wait a minute! You may find nothing but more trouble-and you could be left with a guilt complex that would louse you up for the rest of your life. And, most important, I don't have any money."
"You're broke, Alan?"
"My rent's paid, there's gas in the car and some food in the refrigerator and that's it. I'm on Park Avenue but it's part of my front to fool the world into thinking I'm successful. As you can see these rooms are closet-sized. My car is a foreign model but it's several years old. Sweetheart, you've come to the wrong guy."
"But what'll I do?"
"Some of these boys you slept with must care for you. You're a beauty, Joyce. There must be one boy willing to put a ring on your finger."
She got to her feet bringing his attention to the awesomely-proportioned breasts, the opulent cheeks of her rather large buttocks and her legs, so long they seemed half the length of her body. "Take a good look; that's all the boys wanted. And I was stupid enough to let them have it, one and all."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, getting even with my mother, I guess. Getting even with somebody. Who knows, maybe even myself." She walked about the room, paused before the fireplace, glanced at the several hundred books that lined one wall and rubbed her toes in the large Indian rug.
"I don't know what the hell to say, Joyce."
"Maybe by the morning we'll both come up with some fresh ideas. You'll have to let me stay here, you know. I spent my last dollar on a cup of coffee in that high-priced lounge across the street while waitingfor you to show."
Alan smacked his forehead. "Brother, nobody'll believe this!"
"Who do you mean, that tall girl I saw you on the street with?"
"That's Jacqueline-the hell with her. But, look, I just can't spring you on people and say: 'this is Joyce, someone I've known since childhood and she's staying here because she's got nowhere to go. "
Joyce interrupted. "Do you owe anybody an explanation? Are you accountable to people? Look at the time, where can I go at this hour of night."
"Well I've enough for a hotel."
"If you're that broke you'll need it."
He pointed at the couch. "That's a convertible sofa where I sleep. There's no bedroom. I have a bathroom and a kitchenette; that constitutes my domicile."
"Alan, please."
He hesitated. "All right, I'll take to the floor tonight, but tomorrow I'm getting in touch with your mother." He gave her a pair of freshly laundered pajamas and showed her where the bathroom was. He yanked apart the convertible, tossed pillows on it and attempted to pull the sheet taut.
Joyce emerged from the bathroom smiling triumphantly. She had discarded the pajama bottoms and her bare legs made his breath catch in his throat. Her breasts, however, seemed to him to be much larger than Jacqueline's. The latter had big, fleshy bubbles but this girl was gigantic. She was unable to button the pajama jacket higher than the middle.
Alan stared at her. It was some moments before he moved and then, to mix himself another drink. He needed it desperately.
2
In his swank, east Side duplex apartment, short, blond-haired Wallace Bobbins was mixing drinks. He wore sandals and a black Japanese silk robe. His face, seamed with the lines of middle-age was freshly shaved and scented and his long hair was sleeked back with an ointment. Despite the late hour he had prepared himself, as he always did, when expecting female company. However, as he stood before his fireplace he appeared oblivious to his guest and was more concerned with the silver cocktail mixer which he shook rhythmically.
"Soon be cold," he explained. "We'll polish off a couple and get sent straight to where we should be headed on a night like this."
Stretched out before him on a king-sized couch, the frame of which was Danish teak, was Jacqueline. She had kicked off her shoes in order to be more comfortable and listening to the beat and swish of ice and alcohol made her drowsy.
"You're making me sleepy. The sound of the mixer has a hypnotic effect."
"I'm a terrific hand when it comes to this sort of thing. I ought to bottle it and set myself up in business. Robbins Cocktails."
"Positively brilliant," said Jacqueline without enthusiasm. She was examining the sheen of her nylon stockings.
"You've got lovely legs."
"I know it."
He snickered. "A little conceit goes a long way these days. Come on, you'll snag them. Why not take them off."
"I just got through with one wrestling match and I'm not looking to take you on."
"That nut!" He said, referring to Alan. "A writer, yet! A girl with your beauty wasting your time with that bohemian. What's he doing on Park Avenue anyway? What's he trying to prove, that he's made it? He ought to be down in Greenwich Village with those other nuts, those damned would-be artists."
"We are supposed to get married. At least, I think we were."
"Why think?"
"Oh, we had an argument and he was more than a little annoyed. It's the same old thing each time. He won't work and I don't see how we can plan a future together."
He poured the drinks, smiling as he handed her a long-stemmed glass. "And I'll bet part of the trouble is because you won't go to bed with him."
Her eyes blazed. "You're damned right I won't! Suppose I get pregnant? What would I do, work until the seventh or eighth month to prevent the kid from being born in some charity ward?"
"You should let that be the least of your worries. He's in a rut and that's the primary concern, or should be after all, you've never gotten pregnant before. Come on, come off it! You didn't acquire that figure overnight. Guys must have been pursuing you from the time you were fourteen." Wallace sat next to her, resting his hand on the swell of her hip. "When did you start to develop anyway?" He inhaled the womanly scent of her thinking that the full rear and thrusting breasts were a little too much to be squeezed into the tight garment. A little twist this way or that and she'd have an accident. She was stacked like the devil but putting on weight.
She leaned back upon the couch, stretching out her hefty legs and crossing her arms behind her head. Her breasts rose like hills. "I didn't get these things until I was about seventeen. Oh, they were always there, like a couple of good-sized apples and then suddenly, whoom! Girls at school used to wonder how come I didn't topple forward since the rest of me took so long to catch up."
He slid his hand under the skirt along her hard thigh. "You've got one of the best bodies I've ever seen on a girl."
"Only one of the best?" she teased.
"Well, I don't know yet. After all, you're still dressed. Naked, I might be able to judge if it is the best."
"What a seducer!"
"Jacqueline, how is it you battled off the boy friend yet came straight here. Out of the frying pan into the fire, so to speak. You know I'm not like him. I don't stand for any teasing."
"I don't know. You've got the trappings of success and this is another world, here. You've always wanted to take me out to decent places while he can't afford a fifth-rate restaurant."
"Yet, you're engaged to him."
"Yes." She quickly swallowed her drink. "I shouldn't be here." She held out her glass for him to pour another. "There're things I've got to get clear in my head." The second cocktail suddenly made her head spin and she swung her legs over the side of the Couch. "Wow, what did you put in that second one?"
"What're you talking about ?It's the same mixture,"
"And it's too hot in this apartment. I'm beginning to feel dizzy."
"I'll open the window if you want or we can go into the other room where there's air-conditioning. But, I think your clothes are too tight, darling. You outgrew that outfit a long time ago."
She rose, removed her jacket and opened her blouse. "Maybe that other room would be a better bet."
He followed her into the bedroom, enjoying the movement of her backside, so full-blown and harmonious with her superb breasts. He could picture her gasping and threshing beneath him and hot perspiration suddenly drenched his armpits. Gradually, she took off her blouse-and was naked beneath. Her breasts, now liberated, swung free.
"Are you stacked!"
"Oh, stop it." She pushed him away with a mild oath and went to stand in the stream of cold air roaring out of the conditioner. The sweat was pouring from her ample body and when she raised her arms the dark brown hair nestling in her armpits drove the man crazy.
"Darling, darling Jacqueline, I take back what I said. You are the best!" Her huge, sharp-tipped breasts were so opulent, almost opalescent in color and haughty in their tilt.
"I've known that all along." She lowered her arms and the priceless globes sagged slightly, and unbroken chain of pearl-like sweat lying in the deep chasm.
"You ought to wear a brassiere, you shouldn't spring those things oh me so suddenly."
"No, Wallace," She shoved him away. The drink had taken effect and she staggered to the other side of the bedroom. "We've got to give each other a little more time. I guess that deep down I don't respect Alan and maybe I could respect you, even love you-but it's got to be a mutual thing. I don't want to be taken and then tossed aside. You've done that to too many women."
"Those I've tossed aside were good for one thing only and once I got that, there was nothing more for them to give." He cupped her face and forced a leg between her thighs."
"You'll rip my skirt."
"I'll buy you a new one."
"No, no!" Even in her stockinged feet Jacqueline was taller than he, and she was able to avoid his lips easily, twisting her head this way and that.
Wallace backed away. He stared at the rich torso upon which he was eager to lavish his kisses. His eyes darted wildly over the tremendous mounds, the abundant hips, the solidly-thewed thighs and in sudden heat he snarled, "take that skirt off, darling. I might have phoned you to visit me but I didn't bring you up here. What'd you think, that you'd tease me the same way you tease that nut?" He peeled off the Japanese robe, flung it in her face, Jacqueline fought free, puzzled and gasping as she saw the short, blond-haired man yank open a bureau drawer and withdraw a riding crop. "Wallace!"
"I won't hit you on that beautiful face, but I'm going to flay the clothes off you. That bottom of yours is going to be so raw you won't be able to walk, much less sit down."
"No, no, please don't!" She drew back and the monstrous breasts rose, seeming to enlarge before her very eyes, their rubbery tips scant inches from the leather crop.
Wallace lashed out and Jacqueline screamed. She reeled, momentarily dazzled by a million splinters of colored lights.
He hit her wherever he could, on the contours of her full breasts, on her well-upholstered bottom and her long, bared legs. He derived immense pleasure from her agony and gyrations as she scurried from corner to corner trying hopelessly to flee the scorching lash.
"I won't stop until you strip!"
He chose the curvy spheres of her buttocks, so like boulders and directed his fire there, administering a volley that brought her excruciating pain.
"I can't. I'm a virgin, it would be rape!"
"There's no such thing as rape when two people want it as badly as we do."
Tears streamed from her eyes and Jacqueline, frightened and bewildered, no longer ducked the lash. Then, a well-directed punch went straight into her midsection, slamming the breath out of her.
He secured a grip on the woolen skirt, tore it almost to the knees, planted his feet firmly and swung the big woman in an arc. She landed on her rather fleshy and now marred rear, tried to rise and found herself pinned by his weight.
"No, no, no!"
"Pay-off time, darling. Come on, now, how much longer did you think you could hold on to your virginity. What're you, twenty-five, twenty-six? Hell, that's a record." He smacked her across the face, gripped her hair and pounded her head on the floor.
She writhed in an effort to free herself. Her beautiful face was filthy with dirt and tears. At length, she lay back panting, no longer struggling."It'll be one-sided; I won't enjoy it."
"Not with me at the helm. You'll be hollering for more alter the first round." Saliva splashed out of his mouth landing between her round, up-tilted breasts. He pinched the crests, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. She lay back, making no attempt to resist, "Oh ... don't ... please ... don't!" Inarticulate groans emerged from her throat. Her breath came hoarse and uneven, her face was contorted, and she lay motionless, the sweat seeping from her pores. She released a scent that triggered a wilder response In the man, and when her tear-filmed eyes met his she read the sign of lust.
"Why make it so rough when love is something we can both enjoy." He spoke soothingly while he dug his fingers into the quivering mounds. "I care for you, darling, I really do." His tongue explored every inch of the swelling, spongy globes, sending hot flashes of lust through her shivering length. Calculatingly, he forced the lush thighs apart and began to squirm against her torso. "See how much fun it can be for us both?"
For some unaccountable reason she gave in to him, feeling herself go altogether limp. The first kiss was soft and wet, but she moaned as his tongue slid over hers, back and forth, back and forth.
He reached with sweating hands for the thrusting, opulent buttocks that now revolved so lasciviously. He was proud that his squirmings titillated her to the very heights of reverie. The finely sculptured body arched in ecstasy, and the flaring nostrils of her nose contracted in tempo with her thighs.
"Oh, darling, darling ... I ... I'm giving myself to you but ... please don't hurt me ... I never ... I don't know what to do ... oh, darling!" She uttered a tortured sob as he lavished hot kisses on her breasts and belly. "Oh, oh, oh, my lord!"
Completely breathless, she surged up, abandoning herself to the searching mouth that quested new treasures. She shuddered joyfully as the twisting lips brushed her tight nipples. He was stimulating her passion to an intense, almost unbearable degree.
Not a word was spoken between them. His still searching, open mouth ranged along the up-thrust hillocks. Jacqueline, once limp and gasping, screamed as a deep ache came alive in her loins. The throbbing plains of her stomach were explored by the flicking tongue and again her scream shattered the silence. He was at the gates of her being now, and she was unconscious of her actions as she clawed up his naked back with her nails.
He kissed the pulse in her throat. "Now, darling, prepare yourself."
"Don't hurt me, oh, please don't, please!" His hands seemed so swift and expert.
"Just hold still." He stroked the firm spheres, cupping them, testing their weight and silkiness, touching the now-thick dark tips with his fingers.
She was shuddering almost violently one moment and the next she was holding his head, pressing his face into the wealth of her breasts, feeling weak and powerless to stem the unknown tide raging within her. She no longer cared what was happening to her. There was no such thing as right or wrong. She only wanted him to inflict pain upon her. She uttered words that were vulgar and strange to her.
His mouth glided across her breasts and she felt so soft and warm that a sense of time and feeling of place vanished. Her breasts had become tight and swollen under the insistent stroking of his hands and mouth, the tips stiffening, growing unbelievably hard.
"Oh, darling, do anything you want ... just don't hurt me too much."
Suddenly he reared up, held himself erect for a maddening second and plunged down. She screamed for the pain was indescribable. He slid his palms around her swelling hips and clutched great handfuls of her immense buttocks. She pressed her doubled fists against his shoulders and arched her back in an effort to throw him, and he gained more ground, taking her completely.
"Oh, oh, no!" Tears blurred her vision and her mouth opened in a soundless cry. It was vicious. She was impaled to his rising and falling figure.
He held fast to her twisting rump. "Another second, darling, and you'll start enjoying it."
"No, no, please stop for now. Some other time I'll give myself to you, I swear it!" Her body leaped and bucked as if it were being turned over a flaming spit.
Her hands flailed, then, they found his long, greased blond hair and she twisted his head up.
"You rotten bitch!" He rose upon her, crushing her against the floor, pounding and pounding her until she knew her flesh and bones would be reduced to dust. She was enveloped by such an agonizing pain that she dazedly imagined that she was on a torture rack.
She continued to moan as he battered her into semi-consciousness, pounding her flesh, leaving her nerves raw and exposed. She found her voice and uttered a final plea that went unheard and then, surprisingly, the pain slowly dissolved, replaced by a feeling that was unrecognized, something beyond passion. Her mind was filled with shame as she realized that her body was no longer hers to control. It reacted fusing with his. Sensation seemed to spread from his quaking torso to hers, and now she fought with him for her share of the lust. They thrashed about like animals locked in a combat for survival as they surged toward the inevitable climax.
Now her arms braided about his back and she screamed for him to punish her. His fingers were piercing her bottom, holding her tight until she thought she was going out of her mind. Her big body convulsed in spasms, twisting and writhing even after Wallace lay silent.
He rolled off her and got to his feet. Thick trails of perspiration crawled down his hairless chest. He was examining the scratches on his arm. "Wow! Talk about native talent! I haven't had a virgin since I was about sixteen. Sweetheart, your response was wonderful."
She still lay on the floor, rivulets of sweat trickling down her thighs, her breasts up-thrust with the tips still rigid, her breath coming in short gasps. She blinked her swollen eyes at him and suddenly shame swept over her. She tried to sit up and piece together her ruined clothing and fell back into a crumpled heap as spasm after spasm racked her broken body. She felt cold air spread a soft layer over her naked loins. She blacked out.
She lurched to her feet hours later, just as dawn was washing away the blackness of night. She stumbled, her legs numbed by pain. Wallace was in bed, fast asleep. The bastard, she muttered, the least he could have done was to have picked her up instead of letting her spend the night on the damned floor.
Her skirt was in tatters, her nylon panties no better. Was this the way it was supposed to be? Lord, they had been like two cats in an alley. And it had been practically rape. No, she reasoned, that was not true. But damn it, why did he forget her on the floor? She wasn't a call girl; she had been a virgin. He didn't have the decency to soothe her with a few soft words and tell her he loved her even if he didn't.
The door bell rang!
"Wallace," she shook him awake. "Listen, there's somebody ringing the bell."
He blinked rapidly as he sat up. He was a sight with his tangled hair and lipstick-smeared mouth. "Quick, get into the bathroom."
Jacqueline gathered up her torn garments. "But who could it be ? "
"How the hell do I know. Every skirt who strolls down this block takes it in her mind to visit me at all hours. Come on, hustle your fat butt."
She closed the bathroom door just as she heard the voice of a woman. "Well, don't you look like something!"
"What do you want, Vicki?"
"Want! I want you to get dressed and prepare yourself for the showdown today. There's a board meeting or have you forgotten?"
Jacqueline edged the door open as the voices approached and saw a slender, hard-faced brunette covered up in a black silk raincoat. Wallace seemed intimidated and was making all kinds of excuses-and suddenly the name Vicki rang a bell. Of course, of course, this was his second wife, a wealthy woman who owned a shoe factory in Long Island.
"The meeting's not till nine and what time is it now, six? You've got some damned nerve. What's the matter, were you afraid I'd skip town?"
"Listen, you short hunk of baloney. When we broke up I allowed you to hold on to some of my factory stock.' But I didn't expect you to use them to pay your gambling debts."
"The hell're you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb. I know you; remember, I was married to you. You owe that Racketeer Bertini a small fortune, and he came to me only last week to suggest-pay up to prevent your winding up in the bottom of the East River."
Jacqueline heard Wallace swear. Footsteps approached and she tried to close the door, but it was suddenly yanked open and she found herself facing a woman older and shorter than herself, with flashing brown eyes and dark hair gathered into a chignon.
"Well, well, well," Micki Robbins' eyes examined the big, naked smeared body. "Miss America herself."
"Leave her alone."
"You always went for them busty. Brother, a forty C if I ever saw a pair."
Jacqueline drew herself up haughtily. "Get yourself some eyeglasses. I'm a 38 C."
"You should consider the mistake flattering. And you got your little whipping, too, didn't you? That's my Wallace. That's the only way he can bring on his virility. I went through the same thing myself."
"Okay, Vicki, you've made your little threats so why don't you get the hell out of here?"
"You can't throw me out so quickly. My money bought it, or have you forgotten." Her eyes never once left Jacqueline's. She snapped her fingers. "Now I know where we've met!"
"I'm not interested so forget it."
"Sure, how could I forget that chest. When I was asked to join that group of rich old bags who offered fellowships to writers. We threw a party and Alan Graham brought you."
"Oh, my lord!"
"Yes, yes. I tried to get some money for him I recall. And when I invited him up to my country place for the weekend he turned me down, claiming he was engaged to you. I remember how you strutted that backside about the party, exciting all the lads. Sure, you had everyone speculating on the size of your boobs."
"You've said enough. Now get out!" Wallace shoved her toward the door.
She paused for a last remark before exiting. "This certainly is a small world."
Afterward, Jacqueline showered, gently washing her thighs and buttocks. She emerged, with a huge Turkish towel wrapped about her to confront her seducer. "So you're in trouble!"
"Of a sort." He had donned a fresh pair of shorts. He went after his cigarettes, Ht one with a flourish and tossed the lighter to one side. "Gambling and women will put me in an early grave."
"Now what's to happen to me? She'll report this back to Alan."
"Well what the hell do you care if she does? You told me the engagement was more or less broken. We can be a team, you and me, if you don't spoil things. Being the first with you gives me some sort of elation but don't think I feel any responsibility. This is 1966, not the gaslight era. Today's men aren't gentlemen and women aren't ladies, even if they fool themselves into thinking they are."
Her lip curled. "You're a skunk of the first order."
"Oh, come on! You enjoyed yourself. What talent! You moved better than any damned Flamenco dancer." He leaned forward and with a flick of his hand swept the towel away.
They faced each other. There was hatred in her eyes, but he was fascinated by the nude sight of her. With her eyes blazing and her dark hair falling thick and loose about her broad shoulders she looked just what she was, a passionate woman.
"Come here."
"You go to hell," she shouted, although she remained steadfast, flinching only when his hand closed over one of the projecting mounds. A second later her nipple, tight from the shower, came alive. She heaved a deep sigh. "No, not now, please."
"You heard Vicki; there's a meeting at that lousy factory at nine. They're going to roast me over the coals for getting rid of that stock, all those finks on the board."
"No, darling, please, I'm so worried." Her back arched and the great spheres reared up, welcoming his touch. The brief moment of ecstasy she had known returned, nourished by his pulsing nearness. She closed her legs, barring him but he squeezed between her satiny thighs, acquainting her with his passion.
"In the bed this time."
"No, no."
"Then I'll take you standing," he threatened. "It'll be more painful."
"Oh, my lord, I didn't know men could be such swine! That's all they want from a woman. You've ruined me for Alan, you've shamed me before your wife and now you demand even more. You've no regard at all for me."
"You may work as a librarian but that doesn't mean you have to read those lousy romances. God, those clich's. You sound worse than a lousy soap opera." He pulled her, unresisting toward the bed and pressed her back, forcing a pillow under her fat bottom.
It was foolish for her to do anything but join the game because she was being tossed about on the monstrous waves of a stormy passion. He drove himself down and sent her screaming into the bottomless depths of lust. She clung to him as cry after cry left her lips. The pleasure this time was swift and unbearable.
He hammered her with an increasing fury, hurrying her along with him to the finish. At last she convulsed and dug her razor-sharp nails into his flanks. After what seemed an eternity Wallace rolled away from her and lay on his back, spent and shaking.
Minutes later Jacqueline stroked him, trying to get him to respond. Her eyes were smoldering, and her' wide mouth was open and wet. He shoved her away. "Forget it for now. I've got to get ready for that lousy meeting."
"Darling, you said we were a team. If anything happens you'll protect me, won't you?"
"Nothing's going to happen."
"This was the first time for me, darling, you're my first man and I don't know how to take care of myself."
He was on his feet, selecting clothing he'd wear that day. He didn't look at her as he said, "then you better learn. I've got enough troubles."
Immediately Jacqueline was on her feet beside him. "You weren't so unconcerned last night," she murmured, deftly blocking his dressing with her caressing hand.
"Last night I was concerned with what I'm always concerned with," he retorted. But that's over with. I don't need you right now, and I do have to get to that board meeting."
In the struggle for his trousers, she braced her legs and tightened her grip, wrenching downward suddenly and leaving him naked again, his pants tangling at his ankles. Again she began her caressing. "I could make you care again," she breathed. "I could get what I want if you'd let me."
"You could also get a bat in the mouth if you don't let me dress," he snarled, once again pulling his trousers into place.
"I know you don't mean that, you scurvy son of a bitch," she hissed. And with this she reached behind his head as though to embrace him while he still clutched at his trousers to hold them in place. "Let me show you just how much I love you, you reptilian degenerate," she moaned.
And then she let him have it with her fingernails, right behind the ears and hard. His right uppercut caught her just under the jaw, leaving her stunned while he dressed.
3
At eight o'clock that morning Alan rose, showered and tip-toed about the small apartment as he got dressed. He made coffee and went to wake Joyce.
He bent over her, staring with admiration at the curvaceous body of the girl he hadlast seen as a child. In sleep the pajama jacket had opened, exposing her epic-sized breasts. His eyes roamed further, down the slope of her belly, and suddenly he fought to clear his desire-clogged mind knowing those smooth, satiny thighs could crush his body in hard embrace.
He watched her, stunned, motionless, hardly able to digest this dream-like girl. Her large, golden-skinned body seemed to dominate him, it filled the entire room, blotting out all else from his view. The breath-taking perfection of her enormous breasts held him in a grin of sensual delirium. The heady scent of her immobilized him.
Now, he leaned directly over her, studying her with a mixture of awe and appreciation. At one time he had imagined that Jacqueline was a wonder, but this girl was a miracle of femininity. She was so amazing, so statuesque, every flawless inch of her sculptured to perfection. His hands, almost as if they had a will of their own strained toward the lush globes. The tips of his fingers flicked at the tight little strawberry-colored nipples and blood pounded in his head. One hand lowered, resting lightly on the firm yet silky textured melons. He assessed their size, marveled at the marble smoothness, wishing he could fondle and kiss them.
Desire churned in Alan and he moaned softly. He wanted to bury his face in those massive hillocks and pass his hands up and down that large, supple body. His palm encompassed a portion of one breast and the red nipple rose, growing hard and rubbery.
He yanked his hand back as if it had been singed by fire.
Joyce stretched her voluptuous body, unmindful that she was nude. Her lush mouth was half-open and her tongue moistened the full lower lip until it shone.
"Good morning, Alan." There was a mischievous look in her slanted eyes. As she raised her arms the copious breasts rose. "I smell fresh coffee brewing."
"Yes, I've just put a pot on."
"My, my, don't we look nice." She took in his wetly combed, dark hair, shaved cheeks and manly figure in the dark blue, shadow-striped suit.
He turned red and lowered his eyes. She leaped out of bed, the jacket flaring back, revealing every inch of her youthful, magnificent body. "Get dressed as soon as you can," he mumbled. "You'd better have a checkup."
"Righto." She tossed her-head, flinging the mass of streaked hair in all directions and sauntered into the bathroom, her well-fleshed buttocks rolling.
Alan squeezed his eyes shut. Great Scott, what is wrong with me? I'm wild; that girl has driven me absolutely wild! He shook his head, wiped his damp hands on a dish towel and set out cups and saucers on the small, oak table. When he heard the shower running he picked up the phone and asked the long-distance operator to connect him with Joyce's mother in Connecticut. There was no answer. He replaced the receiver then suddenly, without exactly knowing why, dialed Jacqueline. There was no answer. Another strike-out. He recalled the number of a doctor he was acquainted with and called his home. Someone, probably the doctor's wife said office hours started at eleven. Alan gave his name and he was given an appointment within the hour.
Around ten o'clock they emerged from the doctor's apartment and went out into the bright morning sunlight. Alan looked glum but Joyce was gleeful. She gripped his arm and planted several kisses on his cheeks.
"Oh, I'm so delirious! He said I'm perfectly all right! Oh, I'm so overjoyed. You can't imagine how I feel."
"I know how I feel. like a damned dope! I've known that guy for years. Damn it, he thinks I've seduced you. He gave me a lecture about fooling around with girls of your age. You damned kids, you're all so promiscuous. I mean it. Nature pauses for a few, days or so and you swear you're pregnant."
"Well I'm not, so we can forget that miserable moment of my life."
"Luckily he didn't charge anything for the examination so I'm taking the money and buying you a ticket back to school."
"The devil you are. I'm finished with all of that academic jazz.-I'm staying, in New York, With you," she added.
"Are you out of your mind?"
"Alan, It was so wonderful this morning. Waking and finding you near and then breakfasting alone with you, I felt like such a woman."
"And what do I tell Jacqueline? And what do I tell Others who might come nosing around?" He squirmed free, the feel of her ample breast against his arm sent his senses soaring.
"I don't understand you at all. You seem more worried about the opinions of people than anything else."
"A guy like me is always in the spotlight. My every action is condemned. When I'd take Jacqueline to a party guys would sidle up to her asking what a dream like her was doing with a failure like me."
"Oh," Joyce waved a hand. "That's part of their line."
"Yes, but there was some truth in it as well." He steered her to Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Eighth street where a coffee shop was located, just across from the Plaza. It was a small place, decorated like a night club with soft lights, plaster statues of nudes, piped-in music and glossy stills of celebrities filling the purple-painted walls. People on their ten o'clock coffee break were huddled about the corner. Joyce's entrance caused all conversation to momentarily cease.
"Want to sit in the back?" She spoke over her shoulder to Alan as she strode past the counter like a panther through a jungle, her body flowing gracefully, the packed lulls of her buttocks grinding like some oiled mechanism.
"There's going to be trouble with this one," he murmured, "too much trouble."
"Did you say something, dear?"
"Just mumbling to myself, a habit I've never learned how to break."
Over coffee and Danish pastry Joyce began to fill him in on the events of her recent past, "There was a continual search for new kicks," she explained. "Wild parties, alcohol, marijuana, dancing until dawn, sex, switching partners; we tried it all by the time we reached college. So you see there seemed little left to try. Some of us wearied of exploring and began to go steady. I tried too but those relationships never lasted."
Alan studied the almost lazy motion of her long-fingered hand as it wove through the sun-streaked mane. She is a beautiful creature, he thought, truly a raving beauty. "I'm surprised. I'd think a young boy would want to team up with you for life."
There was a sparkle in her lovely green eyes; She took a deep breath and her luxurious breasts rose almost to the level of her throat. "Because of these, you mean? Forget them. At college there were hundreds of girls looking like me. Maybe in New York there's a famine but there it was a feast. The doctor just told me I had a fantastic shape. Maybe, but at school too many kids could match my dimensions. No, it was a man's world there. A boy could pick and choose to his heart's content. After a while it was the few flat-chested girls on campus who began to make it since they were considered novelties."
"Last night when you barged in on me you said you went with several boys at once."
"Yes."
"Well, what happened? Did you just pass yourself around from one to the other. What I'm trying to get it is a reason for your promiscuity. Mind you, this isn't an interrogation, but it's usually the divorced and lonely woman of thirty-five who acts like a whore-not a kid of twenty."
"A woman of twenty," she corrected.
"All right. You know what I'm driving at."
"Maybe I was getting even' with them. You know those guys at school were spoiled bastards. Money, clothes, Jaguar convertibles, a place in daddy's business when they leave. The world was theirs and they went about kicking hell out of it." Her eyes, meeting his were serious. "I'm quick to arouse but not easy to satisfy. I can take on a team of men and hold back so that there's nothing for me at the windup but an ache."
"You wanted to humiliate them in other words,"
"I did. I let them know they were just boys, trying to do a man's job." She leaned back against the plastic-cushioned booth and looked up at the ceiling. "Let me tell you about the last time."
She had remained aloof from boys for a while and spent her time studying in the hopes of raising her average from a C- to a straight C, occasionally went to see a foreign film or a Bogart revival and sat up nights chatting with her roommate, Donna.
Donna was a tall, black-haired, dark-eyed girl who spoke in a slangy Brooklyn manner and was as fantastically structured as Joyce. In fact, they wore each other's clothing since both were 40-24-40. However, Donna was far more experienced having even had flings at Lesbianism.
During the Easter holidays they flew down to Puerto Rico and registered at a posh tourist hotel. In the elevator, going up to their room, Donna kept biting her lips and rubbing her big breasts against Joyce's arm. The latter shrugged it off as accidental, figuring the plane ride had made the big brunette nervous. However, just before the elevator eased to a stop she stepped before Joyce and pressed her ripe bottom against her, rotating the hefty cheeks with a skill that was shattering.
In their room she whispered, "why'd you do that to me?"
The bellboy was still there, opening windows, checking the air-conditioning unit, examining the closets and the faucets. The moment he left Donna tore off her clothes. "I was afraid to try anything at school with all of those gossiping creeps around. You know, it could develop into a habit but I don't know, there's just something about the way you swung your bottom into the lobby that churned me up. Even if you hate me for this I've got to tell you that I can't help myself."
She seemed to melt as she gave the blonde girl the full force of her big, squirming body and hot lips. When they broke free, Joyce was the one left gasping and trembling. She backed away, rather surprised by her own actions. Donna's coal-black hair shimmered, her-dark eyes had blue shading on the lids, her lush mouth kept opening and closing.
"I've never done this before."
"Look at me, don't you want to now?" She went into a blatant pose. Her figure was overdeveloped and the thin, silk slip, taut at the hips, thighs and breasts, might have been lacquered on with a .
Joyce began to undress. The marvelously alive body before her tossed her on the sea of want. In fact her nearness induced such a physical need that her fingers flexed, desiring contact with that dark and exciting flesh.
"Yes, I do, I do want to."
"Nobody need know. There's only the two of us down here. All of the other cruds have gone to Jamaica or the Bahamas; Puerto Rico was a wise choice." Her large, red mouth was wide open and her wet tongue slid over the full lower lip. "So get undressed, honey, we're going to have ourselves a swinging time."
She posed, a lust-provoking pose yet by no means ungraceful. Every turn of her serpentine body was executed as gracefully as if by a trained ballerina. Joyce paused, her eyes lingering on the trace of shadow dwelling in the cleft of the dark-haired girl's enormous breasts.
"Suppose it develops into a habit?" She watched the sexy walk, checking the well-oiled swing of Donna's fleshy buttocks. "This is the sort of thing that could ruin my life."
Donna raced to the bed, big breasts bouncing, the flesh along her heavy thighs quivering. "I've been at it for a while and it hasn't ruined my life. Back at school I'm considered an easy mark by the lads and
I hope to get married some day and have kids and all."
In bed Joyce's hands crawled all over the olive-tinted body, plump as it was, with such an overwhelming amount of rotundity. Her heavy, curving breasts, balanced on a broad rib cage swayed, their nipples already thick and hard. At the touch of them blood surged through her and, weak from desire, Joyce pushed Donna back and climbed atop her without any preliminaries.
"Do it that way, baby ... yes ... just like that ... now you're swinging ... now you know the score!" Donna pierced the hard flesh of Joyce's shoulders with her nails and her hips arched to allow greater play to the warm mouth pulsing along her open thighs. "Oh, baby ... baby!"
"Am I making you happy, dearest?"
"So happy, baby, oh, so happy!"
Joyce murmured words of endearment until the dark, voluptuous body instinctively moved in a rhythmic, thrusting motion. Donna reared up violently, and when she sank back the blonde girl covered her with her own tortured and sweating body.
Donna gave a little moan, imprisoning her lover within the clamp of her steel-taut thighs, heaving under her as the eager hands held fast to the fullness of her buttocks.
"A second more, baby, hold tight!"
"Oh, Donna ... I think I love you ... oh, yes, I love you!"
"And I love you, too, baby ... a little more ... just a little more ... oh, ahh!"
It was animalistic, yet perfectly timed, and within seconds they reached the dizzying heights of the climax.
Back at school, they tried to behave with some degree of normalcy, but their needs for each other were too intense. They started to skip class, fall behind in their work and avoid the company of others.
Both became lax in their dress and walked about pale-faced, with dark circles ringing their beautiful eyes. Talk developed and to quell it they agreed to date two boys.
They expected to be taken to a restaurant and then to a movie or a club but instead found themselves in a dumpy apartment watching sex films. Drinks were served and from time to time one of the boys made a crack about 'who had the largest pair or the biggest bottom'.
Soon, there was a knock on the door and two more boys, from the same fraternity and very much alike the dates in appearance entered. When the Hghts went on more drinks were passed around and someone suggested having an orgy.
"With men, maybe," said Donna. "Not with you creeps."
The lads faced the, four crew-cut Ivy League types. One said, "now's the chance to quash those rumors that've been spread about. If you take us on you'll have four guys to champion you. Think of it, it makes sense doesn't it?"
Joyce and Donna held a whispered conversation and admitted that it did. The movies had aroused the boys to such a pitch that they'd be easy to handle and could be exhausted in seconds.
"Strip slowly," Donna suggested. "That'll tantalize them to such a pitch that they'll be finished before they're even started."
Joyce paraded before the boys like a stripper on a lighted runway, exhibiting her large rump and ripe breasts. She smiled as she dangled the bait of her body, knowing by their silence that they were worked up. She pitched her dress to one side and heard a whistle as her breasts popped up, the flesh seeming to explode. She rolled her panties down a pair of thighs that were tremendous and excitingly curved and yelled for the first man.
A bespectacled boy approached her. He was near-speechless, staring with genuine awe at the ornamentation at the juncture of her thighs. "You ... oh God, you're stacked, Joyce!"
He was obviously frightened. Joyce's own emotion was hatred and wanting to conquer these punks, she determined to put that hatred to use, harnessing it, controlling it to be a weapon. She appeared very sensual to the sight, she knew. Her body, while large, was extremely supple and rich, wealthy in the high round globes of her breasts and the curves of her long thighs.
The boy leaped atop her, rose and fell twice and gasped. She rolled out from under him with a wild lurch of her hips. "All right, who's next?"
The next boy was tall, well-built, a member of the football team. "We'll do it my way. You won't finish me off like this poor kid." Without undressing he lay down upon the still-warm sofa and bade Joyce to straddle him. As she sank down, capturing him, he fondled the overlarge globes battering his face like two silk-textured basketballs.
She grasped him tightly, exerting her young muscles as she lowered herself and relaxing as she rose. Her eyes were closed and her long, blonde hair swaying from side to side lashed her tight-mouthed face. The boy somehow maintained control and seemed as if he would last longer than his frightened fraternity brother.
"Keep it up, blondie, 'cause nothing's happening yet. You've got yourself a real man this time."
"You lousy pig!" Now she clenched him with a feeling that was akin to desperation and twisted her big hips from side to side in a jerking, vicious motion. He convulsed. Hope surged throughout her and she bent forward, tongueing his ear, knowing as he threshed beneath her that his time was near.
"Wait!" He moaned.
"The hell with you, big man on campus!" She rotated atop him in a rapid sensuous rhythm bringing him to such a pitch of frenzy that he shouted and continued to shout long after he had died.
Donna had already polished off her two victims and now strutted about triumphantly. "Men, they call themselves. Just look at them! And not even five minutes yet!"
Joyce dressed rapidly, pausing only to shout, "We did our part now you characters stick to the bargain. If you hear any rumors about us, kill them."
She was silent for a long time. Alan shook his head. "Some story! Things like that didn't happen when I went to college. I'm afraid my generation missed a whole lot of fun."
"There was a repeat with those boys, and with others, too."
"Same sort of set-up?"
"Yes. It was never any fun for either Donna or myself but at least the rumors ended, but then we developed reps as tramps. And," she sighed, "of course, Donna got into trouble."
"And that's why you were worried, too."
"I went home to my mother's."
"Good old Stephanie, my old girl friend. She's your mother, but what a bitch. I consider myself damned lucky that she never accepted my proposal of marriage."
"It would have been grand for me if she had. With someone worthwhile like you in the household I might not have grown up to be such a weirdo."
"When you told her what you thought, what did dear old Stephanie say?"
"Well you must understand, mother's no longer such a beauty. She's heavy, her boobs sag, there're lines in her face, and in order to keep lovers she has to support them. The guy she's got now has gotten a Ferrari out of her. Thirteen thousand dollars worth of automobile and yet when I asked her for a thousand she told me to go fly a kite. She told me I was old enough to know what the hell I was doing and not to bring any scandal into her house. Imagine her, backing off from scandal! As a finisher the boy friend made a pass at me."
Alan looked elsewhere as he asked, "did you take him on?"
"Yes, to spite her. He admitted I was a hell of a lot better in bed than she was."
"Brother, what a narrative!" He called for the check. "I don't know how I can help you, Joyce. Even if I put you up for afew days that won't solve anything. It'll only kill time, that's all."
"Alan!" She leaned forward, the strain of her blouse emphasizing her huge breasts, the tight nipples punching holes through the fabric. "The experience with Donna and those episodes with the fraternity boys ... it frightened me. The only satisfaction I've had in ages was with her. I'm no Lesbian, I don't want to be but I'm afraid that no man can ever arouse me again."
"What're you trying to say?"
"Help me. Help me return to normalcy. I saw the way you stared at me last night. And this morning when you thought I was asleep you fondled me. Your girl friend, this Jacqueline is a stunner; but I know I leave her at the post. You could go for me. Now help me!" She noticed the direction of his eyes and deliberately took a deep breath. "They'll be yours, dearest, all yours."
Her words set his stomach ablaze and his eyes could not stray from the enormous spheres. He could recall the sight of them this morning, flesh and round, the erect tips thick and aching with desire.
"Come on," he mumbled, "let's get out into some fresh air and figure this damned thing out. I say again you're trouble and I don't want any trouble with you or any other woman right now."
She rose, standing as tall as he, her eyes level, her stance defiant. "You're a man, act like one. Don't be a coward. It'll be good for you and it certainly will
. make me feel like a woman again."
Alan was perspiring at the temples and throat, desperate to get the voluptuous girl out of the apartment so he could concentrate. "Sex, sex, sex," he babbled. "That's all you women ever think of. It's hard enough for we men to protect our chastity without having a pair of turgid torpedoes tucked under our chins each time we turn around."
And with this he hurried out, Joyce close on his heels.
4
Wallace Robbins sat in the board room glancing nervously at the four men and his former wife, Vicki, seated about the long, highly polished table. Two of them were drinking coffee, two were smoking cigars, but all wore the looks of businessmen who had wandered into the wrong business.
Trying to appear nonchalant Wallace took a deep drag on his cigar and blew smoke into the air, watching it dissolve before it reached the ceiling. "You know," he said softly, "I don't know what the hell you're all so damned worried about."
Vicki laughed abruptly. Several of the men groaned. One of them, a balding, red-faced, middle-aged man
-whose suit seemed too tight for him screeched. "All our money and our lives, too, are tied up in this factory. If you start passing your shares around to pay gambling debts we'll sink. That's all we'd need is for competitors to get a hold of those stocks."
"A pack of alarmists." Wallace rested his cigar in an onyx ash tray and leaned toward his fellow shareholders, his features hardening. "My wife here spread those stories and there's not an ounce of truth to them. If you want those shares back, you can have them ... at my price."
"Have you got them, Robbins?"
Wallace sucked on his cigar before returning it to its resting place. He tapped the brief case before him. "I've got them, Newmark-but have you got my money?"
"We'll raise it, don't worry about that, but in the meantime you keep those stocks handy."
The four men shuffled out of the board room. Vicki gave her husband a cynical look. "You rotten liar. If there's anything in that brief case it's torn newspapers and musty air."
He crushed out his half-smoked cigar and before the woman could react, slid his hand around her waist; the other hand held one of her breasts, expertly caressing its tip. "You got a good pair on you, you know, for such a skinny broad."
She struggled with him. "Let go, you short creep! You've got a girl waiting for you downstairs in that t expensive foreign car I bought you. Take your lusts' out on her.
"Yeah, isn't that chest on Jacqueline something? She plays hell trying to find brassieres to fit her and that's why she seldom bothers to wear one."
She broke free but his hands swiftly sought her small, rounded rump, forcing her up against him. She tilted her head, avoiding his wet mouth. "Let go!"
"Oh, come on. Sex used to be a good thing between you and me." He was digging his fingers into the hard flesh of her buttocks, cupping their fullness. "This little butt of yours always did set me off."
Vicki inhaled the odor of his cigar-scented breath and suddenly nauseated, she fought like a tigress. She broke free and fell against the wall, her breathing ragged, her shapely bosom rising and falling. Her hair lay in a heap about her shoulders like shining dark fur.
"Okay, sweetie, you had your chance. I hope to hell this factory sinks and you with it." Wallace adjusted his jacket. "The price on those stocks have just gone up."
"You swine!" She straightened herself, throwing her breasts, rather full for a woman of her slender build, into prominence. "Get on down to your tramp and take your frustrations out on her."
"I might at that. There's a couple of motels on the road leading back to New York City." He threw up an arm to glance at his gold wrist watch. "Just about the right time to knock off a bit of action."
The door slammed and shrugging, he walked over to the window. He could see the hills in the near distance standing up proudly behind the small Long Island town. What a place this must be to be buried in. Brother, it was strictly for hicks. He never liked visiting here for the board meetings and thank heaven this was the last time. He stretched his arms and inhaled a lungful of fresh air. The problem was to get lost without Vicki or any of the board members catching wise. And another problem was that dopey dame waiting downstairs in the car.
Jacqueline, he thought, was a lot of girl, big in every way and certainly avaricious since he had bro-ken her in. Vicki used to be the same way. Slim, but with good boobs and hard little buttocks, but she wanted her sex every morning and every night, too. And he had begun to weary of her so that after a while he couldn't accomplish much and often left her high and dry. That caused the separation.
Wallace ran his tongue over his lower lip and considered his life in general, thinking that it was only a new woman, a new adventure that could stimulate his fading virility. Once he became accustomed to them-his interests and his desires sagged. That's why he always had to keep searching, running from woman to woman, trying out one after another. Friends called it a Don Juan complex and a psychiatrist frightened him once by saying most satyrs were latent homosexuals.
The thought lingered in his mind, and he hurried from the empty board room to meet Jacqueline. .He had to rush her off to the nearest motel if only to prove that the damned psychiatrist didn't know his racket.
Vicki walked across the factory grounds, nodded at the guard standing in the box by the wire fence and prepared to get into her Cadillac. A few feet away Jacqueline paraded in front of the low-slung foreign car owned by her lover. The older woman stared, thinking that the tall librarian was extremely shapely, and quite provocative. Her walk was lithe, cat-like, her rear, large and round, rolling in rhythm to each step she took.
"Lucky Wallace," she murmured, "just the right sort of gal to make him think he's a man." She climbed into her Cadillac and drove off. On the outskirts of Long Island City she turned down a road rutted by recent rains and stopped by a decrepit looking road-house that bore a comparatively new sign reading: Bertini's. She honked loudly, once, twice, and presently a man came cut of the roadhouse. He stood before the entrance, then having recognized her, motioned her over.
"What brings you here, Mrs. Robbins?"
"Why that tone? It's not the first time I've come here, Bertini."
"Naw, and I hope it won't be the last either."
The interior of the roadhouse was dark. From between a score of stacked tables and chairs Vicki saw a man, wizened and derelict in appearance, mopping down the dance floor. Behind the long mahogany bar another man, carrying at least three hundred pounds of fat on him was arranging bottles in their place.
Bertini wrapped his fingers about her arm and drew her into his office, indicating a chair. "Park it like a good girl."
She flattened her skirt against the curving rounds of her rump and sat In the big, imitation-leather chair. "My dear, slightly faggoty husband's preparing to run."
"How do you know? The bastard owes me a wad."
She told him what had taken place at the meeting. "Word is out that' you're holding on to his shares."
"Could be, but the few I got don't cover his tab with me by a long sight." He jammed his hands into his pockets and leaned against a glassed-in poster depicting a can-can girl. He was a tall man, slender and dressed in a sharkskin suit of English cut. His collar was starched and the knot in his tie was slightly smaller than a man's fist. His face was ordinary, hardly the sort to be picked from a crowd; but his hair was a mass of brown ringlets and his eyes peered as if due to short-sightedness.
There was a long silence. Vicki clenched her hands in her lap. "Wallace is capable of pulling all sorts of stunts."
"Not with me he isn't."
"I don't want to see that factory go to hell."
"It's halfway there already."
"Can I buy those shares back from you?"
"Maybe." He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, jerking her face up to meet his. "Depends on how nice you are to me."
"Wallace is close by right now. He's got a new girl and has gone to shack up with her in the Motel Roy ale, that's the one he always used when he managed to seduce the factory girls."
"Nice to know." He released her chin and jammed his hand back into his trouser pocket. "I better go and see your boy. Have a little chat with him before he does something rash."
"I'll drive you there."
"Good, but first." He pulled her to her feet. "It's been a long time since I stretched you across my desk."
. "Come on, you want to catch Wallace, don't you?" She fell against him, making little effort to break free. He sealed her mouth with a kiss. The kiss was long, burning and soon she was responding ardently, passionately.
He dug his thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and tore it apart. Her breath was short. "Don't! Oh!"
"I like it when you sound like that." He struggled to tug her panties down over her curving rump.
"I've put on a little weight," she said, somewhat apologetically. "I'll have to help you out."
"Make it quick." He watched the muscles of her thighs ripple "as she shed the silken garment. "Okay, honey, on the floor."
"Darling," she pointed at the leather couch. "We always have done it there." '
Vicki was on the verge of hysteria. "This is a rotten way to treat me. Oh, darling, don't take me like an ordinary alley tramp."
Bertini removed his jacket, rested it neatly atop his desk. Then, without so much as a muscle moving in his hard, composed' face, he fell upon Vicki. He drove himself forward eliciting groans from her until he could press no further. Her thighs widened to aching point and she trembled as if from a raging fever.
"You hurt me, oh, you hurt me. I wasn't prepared. Oh, you should have aroused me first."
"Start moving." He took her slowly, almost dispassionately. She moaned, caught her breath and moved in cadence to his rising and falling body. Her eyes were closed, her upper lip beaded with perspiration.
At one point she pressed a doubled fist to her mouth to stifle her cries. Finally, some emotion entered his face. He buried his head in the warm pillow of her breasts, shouted her name and lay still.
Afterward he rose, and without so much as looking at her, adjusted his clothing, reached for his jacket and left the office. He removed her black raincoat from the Cadillac and reentering his office flung it at her.
"Put it on. Can't have my employees seeing you running around naked like that."
The Motel Royale was a dingy, unpainted row of cabins a quarter of a mile outside of Long Island City and not too far from the main turnpike. The clients were a weird lot, ranging from truck drivers who stopped in for forty winks to middle-aged salesmen who dragged young girls in for a few moments of fun. It was a quiet place, it was private and no customer was ever disturbed by the dirty sheets or lack of proper facilities.
Now, Wallace was in cabin number five with Jacqueline. Nude except for his shorts, he sat with both elbows propping up his chin and trying to formulate plans. She was hunched up in bed, gnawing on a knuckle. She spat out an oath and teased her lover.
"Humpty Dumpty had nothing on you. Talk about big falls!"
He found his cigarettes, finding them poor consolation after the cigar he had enjoyed a while ago. "I'm down, baby but far from out. All right so I loused up with a few shares and I owe money all over town. Big deal!"
"And I thought Alan was a failure. At least he works, although I never thought writing was work, but I'll bet he's got more money than you. That expensive foreign car; the duplex, it was all a front, wasn't it? What about the yacht you've got anchored out on the sound? I'll bet it belongs to your wife."
"Oh, shut up!"
"What's my position in all this? Last night when you took my virginity you were the dashing man about town, a spoiled member of the Jet Set. Debonair and full of savoir-faire and all of that bilge."
"You going to shut up or must I make you?"
"You haven't got your riding crop with you, blond boy. What a sap I was! How gullible can you get? Holding poor Alan off for months, frustrating the hell out of him-and in a twinkling I give myself to you. A few licks on my backside and the next thing I knew I was crawling."
. "You did more than crawl. You loved it, otherwise you wouldn't have come here so easily."
She shrugged a broad shoulder, raising a big breast. "I'm going back to Alan."
"He won't have you, not the way you are now. And don't forget, my wife's a gossip. She'll report back to him the minute she can that you were shacked up with me."
That made sense to Jacqueline. And although he was down, Wallace still represented some glamour to her, coming from the sort of a world that Alan could never enter. "You may be running, but not out on me because I'm running right alongside you."
"I don't know about that."
Now she rose to her knees, her weight causing the bedsprings to squeal. She turned her back on him, her huge rounded buttocks jiggling slight and Wallace experienced a tremor in his loins. The girl's wide, white hips filled his entire range of vision. She was playing with him, he knew, trying to get him hot and bothered, wanting him to leap into bed with her before he was even ready.
She arched her back, her breasts stood out from her body like over-ripe melons. "Are you planning on spending the morning at the table crying over your sad state of affairs? You initiated me in this game you know. Up until last night sex meant nothing to me but now I demand to be serviced."
"Not now, I'm too nervous."
"What the devil do you think I am, if not nervous."
"When I'm like this I can't function. It wouldn't be any good for you."
"Are you putting me on or what?" She left the bed. "Have you lost interest in me already? Are you one of those guys who run from woman to woman trying to prove something to themselves. If so, I've a name for guys like you, latent homosexuals."
He was on his feet shouting, "shut up, I tell you."
Jacqueline stretched and yawned and then threw her stomach out like a belly dancer. Her enormous rump and thighs began to writhe as she performed a breath-taking series of bumps and grinds.
Wallace watched her, hot-eyed, his cigarette dying, his breath coming fast. "There's nothing unmanly about me; I left Vicki because she couldn't take all I had to give her. You saw how I broke you in last night. I practically attacked you. Was that the action of a latent homosexual?"
She approached him, never once breaking the rhythm of her dance, her movement slow and deliberate, her breasts quivering mounds of flesh, her tremendous buttocks taut and sinuous. "Prove it to me now because talk is cheap."
He eyed her hungrily. "When I dust the crap of New York from my heels I'm taking you with me."
"Are you sure about that or just talking again?"
"Damned sure." He reached out, sliding an arm around her pliant waist. He drew her close, feeling the pressure of her velvet-smooth thighs against his. He stroked the phenomenal breasts; hefting the unbelievably rich globes, testing their resiliency until she gasped and twisted about spasmodically.
"Ahh ... darling ... like last night, take me like last night."
"I can't. A girl's a virgin only once in a lifetime." His hand was digging into her plump bottom, holding the great white spheres.
"Let's get in bed now, darling, please." She caught his hands and brought them to position on her heaving, tortured mounds. Their tips were hard and stiff and when he pulled cruelly at them she cried out.
He tried to control the rise of excitement within him. He tried to restrain himself but her breath was so sweet and warm against his face that he went wild. The peaks of her hard-tipped breasts touched his naked chest, and unable to endure any more, wanting to cleave to her, to feel her moving wantonly beneath him, he pushed her onto the bed and moved into her out-stretched arms.
"Don't ... rush," she gasped. "I'm still sore from last night ... oh ... oh, don't be so vicious, darling."
He tried to calm his fear, telling himself that he would succeed, that he had not yet lost interest in this lovely and very lusty girl. He was a man, not an idiot with a Don Juan complex, no matter what his wife or that idiot psychiatrist had said.
He kissed her while stroking the length of her thighs, passing his open mouth over her fluttering eyelids down over her temple and onto her ear. She jerked from the thrilling sensation, and his tongue traced the shape of her cheekbone before lashing her open mouth.
She sighed as he found the pulse in her taut throat and stretched out, relaxing, sliding her heavy thighs across each side of the narrow bed. When she felt his fingers digging into her meaty buttocks she arched up a bit, enabling him to make a swift entrance.
"I'm ready darling ... but please be gentle ... remember, I still hurt."
His initial probing had her writhing lasciviously. Her eyes were tightly shut and her quivering mouth released a ragged breath. "Oh, oh, Wallace, darling." Her big hips began to move eagerly, responding to him.
He maneuvered her into position, paining her slightly but ignoring the groan issued from her throat, for she had already begun the wildest undulations imaginable with her taut-fleshed, resilient hips.
"Ah," he groaned, his voice blending with hers.
"Oh, darling, it still hurts ... it hurts me something awful!"
He would have stopped but she kissed him wetly on his neck and urged him on, using the vilest terms. They entered into a perfectly timed yet wildly savage rhythm that gave them both the first sharp taste of the climax.
She was like an insane woman and she screamed with the sheer delight of the love act. Her body pulsing with his, her breath mingling with his, the strained under him, greedily opening and closing her thighs, allowing him at times a lot of play and then none at all. A strangled cry brought her all thrusting and surging to the final moment, and she threshed under him like a big wildcat bound by chains.
"Take it easy, Jacqueline honey,. " he begged.
"I can't ... I can't ... Pm going now!" With a heartrending whine she released the full force of her young and powerful body. Caught up in the last throes of passion her movements quickened, her hips grinding under his. She gave herself so skillfully she might have been an experienced woman instead of a girl deflowered only last night. The new knowledge at her command might have been learned with a thousand lovers so terrific were her reactions.
She was going-but Wallace got there first. She was too crude for him, too lascivious as she utilized every part of her squirming body. His pent-up passion foamed, bubbled to the surface and he lay still.
"Oh, my lord, darling, please wait for me!" She screamed, "don't stop yet ... oh, please don't ... oh, please don't!" She was nearing the crest of her peak and crying out ecstatically as her hips bucked in a sudden spasm, but he had gone.
"Damn it, you were like a revved up machine. You moved too damned quickly. I wanted you to relax but you were off and running the second we joined."
She released a cry of pain and crawled away from him, drawing up her legs half in desire, half in agony, wishing she could have his weight on her again. The one thing he did, figuring it would release some of the hurt was to bury his sweating face in the up-thrust and quivering mounds of her tight breasts.
Jacqueline stared up at the ceiling, her enormous melons supporting the head of her lover, the man who just failed her. She felt cheated, the rewarding sensation was denied her. He was sexually inadequate and capable of nothing except bluff. Last night he had brought her the joys of a climax, but she knew now that was the first and the last time. Some quirk, some twist of his personality preventing him from giving her a steady satisfaction. He could arouse her, but he could not satisfy her.
She turned her head, seeing between the slats of the blinds just as the long, Cadillac convertible owned by the hateful Vicki Robbins pulled in. A man got out, a slender and devious-looking creature who stood there, eyeing the row of broken-down cabins.
"Wallace, get up! Your wife's here, with some man who looks like a gangster!"
Wallace sprang to his feet, hobbling as he tried to stumble into his shorts. He staggered to the window, pushing Jacqueline out of the way so he could see through the window.
But at that moment the door was flung open and Vicki and Bertini walked in. Bertini had one hand in his pocket; a coil of smoke curled from a cigarette clamped in his thin lips, drifting past his squinting eyes and carefully combed hair. He eyed Wallace' flaccid form a full 10 seconds before speaking.
"Bertini doesn't like crossers, rat," said Bertini.
"Oh God, Bertini," said Wallace, getting his shorts in place, "you've been watching George Raft movies again."
"A comedian too," Bertini mumbled past his cigarette, stalking slowly toward Wallace, his eyes watering a little from the shortening cigarette.
Wallace had his pants in place. "Bertini, if it wasn't for the late-late show, you wouldn't have anything to say at all."
"Smart guy," Bertini snarled, his eyes smarting from his smoldering cigarette, "if I had a grapefruit I'd push your face in, but I'm just gonna have to make do."
Bertini's hand came out of his pocket and looped lazily toward Wallace' jaw. But the hand was clutching a roll of dimes, and Wallace sat down hard when the fist connected. The afternoon was just beginning.
5
The wide frosted door was splashed with gilt paint reading: Doesin Literary Agency. Inside, three glamorous blonde girls who resembled chorus girls in Las Vegas rather than eighty-dollar-a-week typists sat before teak desks pounding their Olivetti typewriters in unison. Alan, leaning against a wall watched them then looked at Joyce who was slumped on a leather couch scanning a magazine.
"Mr. Graham?" A tall girl, as blonde as her coworkers came out of an office. She wore a tight-fitting black suit and three-inch stiletto heels.
Alan faced her, his heart pounding. "Yes?"
"Mr. Doesin will see you now."
He followed the woman down a corridor noting with a great deal of satisfaction that the severe skirt could not prevent her pneumatic buttocks from swiveling.
She opened a door, bowed like a headwaiter and ushered him into a well-furnished office. He strode over a carpet that was as thick as African grass and said hello to his agent.
Joe Doesin came out from behind his desk and removed his glasses. He wore a slope-shouldered Ivy League suit that was unbecoming, as he was wide-hipped with the upper torso of an undeveloped child. He had flat features, a crew cut, a wisp of a mustache and the slow drawl of a Harvard undergraduate.
"So you're broke and ready to wise up at last, eh?"
Alan shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He was always more than a little uncomfortable in the presence of this man who could, in a manner of speaking make him or break him. "You'll have to advance me the money out of your pocket, Joe."
"I see." He searched through a manila folder. "I could have sold the outline to a dozen different publishers. Gothic novels are hot right now but no, you had to play the artiste. "
"I can't stomach that type of book-but I'll write one now out of desperation."
"This fifteen hundred is coming out of my personal checking account. And do you know what that means? I expect you to deliver."
Alan pocketed the check. "I don't know how to thank you."
"Getting that book in on time is one way." He removed his glasses and grinned. "My secretary said you strolled in with a blonde Amazon. That must be the reason why you're so hungry. Nothing else could induce you to do a Gothic. Mind if I have a peek?'
"Help yourself." He waited until the man returned. "Well, what do you think?'
"Are you robbing the cradle this year?'
"She's twenty."
"And you're thirty-six. What gives? A kid like that expects it at least three times a night. You won't be able to keep her happy."
"Mind letting me worry about that?"
"You're headed for the grave with a young girl like that, but before the undertaker stretches you out make sure that Gothic is finished.
In a Madison Avenue store Alan watched. Joyce wriggling her luscious torso into a silk knit dress. Fortunately, at this hour of the day the place was empty except for a saleswoman. He would not have been able to take it if the store had been crowded. On the way over many men had turned their heads to stare at Joyce, and he soon became annoyed. Actually, he couldn't blame them. She was a fantastically beautiful creature and walked with a smooth, muscle-rippling stride that showed her marvelous body to advantage, exciting those who gazed upon her. Even now, as he caught a glimpse of her smooth golden flesh his heart leaped. As she bent over to adjust the hem of the dress her ripe and hemispheric buttocks enlarged before his eyes.
"Do you like it, darling?" She whirled before the triple mirrors, the huge breasts bouncing buoyantly.
He gnawed on a knuckle and asked himself over and over what in hell's name was he going to do. His eyes moved over her beautiful, curvaceous body, over the billowing breasts and down along the sleek thighs and around the richly fleshed buttocks that he sensed were firm but yielding. Suddenly, he dug his fingers into his thighs, wishing he could grasp her breasts, those so symmetrical and brazen breasts. Abruptly, he headed for the door. "I'm going outside for some air. Pick out a few more dresses and some slacks and sweaters."
She pouted. "But I want you to select them along with me."
"No, no. You know what girls your age are wearing these days, I don't."
In the street he closeted himself in a telephone booth and dialed Jacqueline's place of employment. He was told that she had called in sick. Puzzled, he next tried her apartment and got her roommate, Allison, on the wire.
"Why, Alan, baby! Hello!"
He came right to the point. "Jacqueline's not at work. Is she home sick?"
"You could ask if I'm sick."
"Later. Right now I'm asking about her."
"Haven't you any idea where she is?"
"Oh, for ... will you cut the game-playing and bring me up to date?"
"Baby, you better hustle on over here right away because I've got news for you."
Alan rushed back into the dress shop and handed a startled Joyce five hundred dollars and the keys to his apartment. "Urgent business. Sorry, I'll see you later."
"But ... where are you rushing to?" She looked from the money in one hand to the keys in the other.
"I tell you I've got to rush. I'll see you back at the apartment." He ran out, flagged down a cab and told the driver to break all records getting over to the East Side.
Ten minutes later found him pacing the living room while Allison Dundy sat in a soft armchair and told him about the telephone call she had received earlier in the day, from Jacqueline.
"Wallace has been pursuing her for ages and I don't know, maybe you two had a fight last night. At any rate, they are now the team of the week."
"That two-timing bitch! Engaged to me, refuses to sleep with me, and yet she gives her virginity to that bastard. Why? Because he's got a duplex and a boat and a red Ferrari?"
"That's part of the package, but it must be something else, too. You know, all night and all morning, you'd think she'd come home for a rest or at least to freshen up her make-up."
"Well, I hope I never see her again, but if I see him I'll kick his teeth in."
"I'll pass the message on. What about that costly engagement ring you gave her?"
"She knows what she can do with it."
"Pity. A lovely romance like that; so pure. Most guys slip a girl an engagement ring after they've sampled her in bed and tested to see if she's worth living with. But you were as clean and old-fashioned as a boy scout."
"I was a sucker."
"But no more, eh?"
"You know it."
Allison, a tall slender girl who used to work as a photographer's model stretched out her long legs and wriggled her bare toes. Her closely cropped hair was dyed red and her sharp-featured face, the nose long and pointed, the chin jutting, was saved only by a wide full mouth and round, pale-blue eyes.
She knew Alan was examining her, estimating the shape and size of her breasts now hidden by the bulky cashmere sweater. "I'm going to relieve your mind."
"What're you talking about?"
"You want to know what I look like without this blanket on, don't you?"
Working in the fashion jungle had made her tough and she wasn't his type at all, not with a voluptuous and brazen dish like Joyce waiting to give herself to him.
"I know what you look like; I've seen pictures of you in magazines."
"Those damned things were retouched." She got to her feet. "Why do you think I'm home and not working? I've put on weight since."
"I'll take your word for it."
"You ought to be frustrated as all hell. If Joyce didn't give any to you then your libido's suffering, unless you've got a willing female stashed away in some secret love nest."
"She's your friend, you room with her and you've not only revealed her treachery but now you want to sleep with me. What exactly did she do to you?"
"You ought to live with her. She's sloppy; she refuses to soil her lovely hands washing dishes; she's moody, she's bitchy and she's always bragging about her big fat body. You know how models are, they've got to be skinny as hell; and she was always shoving those boobs under my nose telling me I resembled a boy next to her. That's why I started to eat and put on weight."
"And if I sleep with you, you feel we'll both be getting even, is that it?"
Allison peeled off the bulky sweater. "That's exactly it."
She faced him, revealing modest but proud breasts, jutting out from her chest and tipped by pale pink nipples. Her hips were wide for her slender build and very feminine, flaring down into ripely curved thighs.
He started to undress. "Okay, what the hell're we waiting for?' His hands suddenly shook uncontrollably as a flame swept over him. His heart pounded as she unbuckled her jeans and used a squirming, sinuous rhythm to roll them down the length of her firm-fleshed thighs.
Her fingers hesitated in the waistband of her nylon panties. When he was completely nude she said, "the job of removing these is yours and in the meantime, if you don't mind I'd like to be kissed."
He caught at her slim shoulders and hauled her off balance against him. Her mouth met his at once and their tongues intertwined. Her mouth was craving; her twisting body radiated heat, and Alan's senses swirled about him. After a long, intense kiss they broke apart and she laughed in raw delight as her hand found him. Puzzled, she frowned and added her other hand.
"Hey, you're some man!"
He was flattered but too busy to reply as his lips passed over her ear lobes and his slight nips became bites calculated to arouse her to the full heights of ecstasy.
"Oh, am I going to have a lovely time with you, oh, boy!" She offered her warm lips again and slashed the insides of his mouth with her sharp-tipped tongue.
The slight belly Was against his, the nearness and warmth of her loins heating him, giving rise to his more lusty instinct. "When was the last time you made love?" he whispered into her ear.
"Last night," she moaned. Her hips automatically began to undulate. "But ... he wasn't like you ... he was a mere boy."
Desire clogged his throat and he spoke in gasps, "And ... before ... that?"
"The night before ... every night this week actually."
He knelt and his mouth roamed, haunting the caverns of her armpits, nipping with his teeth until she screamed in pain. He greedily continued before scorching the swollen crests of her small but upright breasts with his tongue.
"You'll forget them ... after I get through with you."
"Yes, yes, oh, yes, make me forget them." Her lithe body convulsed as she offered him every intimacy. His mouth descended upon hers again, his teeth sank into her melting lower lip and her fingernails raked his naked flesh. Their tongues lashed about, making searing contact until their desire mounted and neither of them could hold still. The tension between them was unbearable. His fingers fumbled with the filmy panties, lingering for a mad moment that had Allison wild, on the convexity below her soft belly.
"You're so ... so ... " words failed him.
"Please," she panted, "you've got to hurry "or else I'll be in trouble."
"The bedroom," he gasped.
He was rolling the panties down with a tortured slowness and laving the smooth roundness of her stomach with his tongue, pausing, when he was rewarded by the sight of the treasure at the shadowed junction of her slender thighs. He crouched, maneuvering himself closer and she thrust herself up, hammering on his shoulders with her fists.
"Baby, baby doll, what are you doing to me?" Her face was distorted, her lips twisting and her breath coming in ragged gasps because he was driving her out of her mind.
After what seemed like an eternity she staggered backward and reeling like a drunk told him to follow her into the bedroom. The place was small, a mess as he thought it would be with magazines and newspapers littering the floor and discarded clothing strewn about. The sheets on the double bed were more than a week old and grimy.
Allison lay back with her eyes closed and her legs spread wide apart, awaiting his assault. "Suddenly I'm afraid," she moaned, "because it's going to hurt ... I know it's going to hurt."
He knelt between her thighs, suddenly angered at her fears. She had just received her pleasure and should not attempt to deny him his. He suckled her throbbing breasts as his hands explored the flaring contours of her slender torso. He inched himself closer trying to merge with her flesh.
"Don't hurt me, darling, please don't."
"It's my turn to have fun now," he said between clenched teeth.
He parted the slender columns of her thighs and straining, reached the coveted goal. She gasped and dug her nails protestingly into his arms as she felt the pressure. Although her loins were now ablaze she struggled free and pushed him off.
"You bitch, what did you do that for?"
"I'm sorry, darling, but I can't-you need an Amazon like Jacqueline. She's more suited to a man like you."
"Could be, but she's not in bed with me now-you are and I'll smack you silly if you don't come across."
"But it's so painful!" She sobbed.
Her breasts, still high and surprisingly full as she lay on her back gleamed so whitely that he attacked them in a fury of emotion, parting them wide.
"Come on, you're making me hurt now!"
"No, no, no!" Her body jerked when he plunged a hand between her slender, well-shaped legs, "Why, why are you suddenly so afraid."
"Because those other boys were nothing. Half the time they were satisfied after a little fooling around and we never even made it to bed."
"Well, you've got a man with you now."
He angled himself between the quivering columns of her long, inviting thighs and searched for her again.
"Oohh, oh,. .oh!" Allison groaned. Her head rolled back and forth over the crumpled pillow and her fingers clutched great handfuls of the sheet as she felt him. He paused to gauge his entrance, and swiftly she swung her leg up over his shoulder and tried to escape the dreaded bed.
Alan caught her, ignoring her whimpering denials and slammed her back, face down, upon the bed. He pressed his knee between her legs, surprised that they parted so easily this time. He rained kisses down her smooth back all the way down to the tiny hairs growing at the base of her small, compact rump.
His hands slid under her, his fingers piercing the taut flesh of her bowl-shaped breasts, and Allison punched up with her buttocks, nearly unseating him. She pleaded, yet did nothing to obstruct him. For a frantic moment she was breathless, aware only of his weight as he settled her into position. She shuddered, then stiffened her bottom as he took her, "Now," said Alan. "Now, now!"
The impact of his onslaught was painful, and she screamed into the pillow, crying as he threw himself into an unstoppable rhythm. His initial invasion seemed endless. The pain scorched her insides and left her nerve ends raw and throbbing.
"Finish, baby ... oh, please ... for my sake finish."
She squirmed beneath him, feverishly attempting to have it done. But she soon realized that the more she vibrated her rump, the more frenzied he became.
Alan maintained a steady and rhythmic pace, not once interrupting his actions to judge her enjoyment. His possession of her was brutal, he knew, and she had abandoned herself like a martyr. Yet, this tended to increase his excitement, and the occasional twitch of her small, pear-shaped bottom only encouraged him to demand her participation.
"Better for you now?"
"Oh ... a little."
As he approached the peak of his climax he restrained himself and rose and fell more slowly, taking his time controlling his release.
"I've reached you, I know I have."
Allison only moaned.
"You're like Jacqueline, a big tease; that's why you both live together, but you're enjoying this, aren't you?"
She didn't answer. He thrust into her violently and she screamed. Her body trembled in a last fit of surrender. Sensation rose like a swollen river overflowing the banks, at last, he lay still.
She shudderingly pressed her face into the pillow and cried until it seemed her heart would break. "It should be a beautiful thing, filled with romance and ecstasy, and you turned it into a lusty brawl."
"Nothing for you?"
"How could there be the way you hurt me."
"In that case you'd best return to the little boys. I'm not apologizing-you begged for this. If you get your kicks only with boys then you shouldn't try to arouse a man."
She rolled over and wiped tears from her eyes with her knuckles. "I'm sorry, baby, it was all my fault. I'll try to be more cooperative next time."
"What next time?" He was ready to put on his clothes and leave.
"Well," she blinked her round blue eyes at him. "I've been initiated now, haven't I? I can take the pain. Maybe I'll become accustomed to it after a few more times.
"Tell me the truth, did you enjoy that tussle?"
She clapped a hand over her-wide mouth and giggled. "To tell the truth I did. But you can't blame a girl for protesting. I lied to you, all sorts of crazy things happened to me. But ... " The hand fell and she pouted. "It still hurt a hell of a lot, too, I don't mind telling you."
It was too weird for him to figure out even though he had run across kooky girls before. However, he willingly accommodated her when she requested him to lie back while she straddled him.
Laughing like a child at play she climbed atop him, her hard, slender thighs closing upon him like a vise, her weight sustained by her knees. She lowered herself, the smile fleeing her face as she guided him.
"Oh!"
"Still hurt?" He was doubly excited but still able to sympathize with her. "Maybe we ought to stop.
Two tiny drops appeared at the corners of her closed eyes but she continued to inch herself down, and when they were tightly fitted together she bounded up in a frenzy of excitement, never once breaking contact. Her movements became more agitated, the pressure of her thighs increased and the sharp tips of her swinging breasts slid back and forth across his face.
He arched his back in an effort to match her urgent rhythm, knowing that this time she was possessing him, attacking him like an animal. Suddenly her mouth was pasted to his and her fingers gripping his hair. She was beyond all control now as the first tremors of pleasure rattled her. She worked the lower part of her torso more rapidly as the hot desire creeping over Alan had him responding in a definitely raw and brutal manner.
She strained to hold the position, the muscles on her slender thighs bulging. Then, hot passion threw them into the foaming pool of lust. They floated for a time on the waves, riding along the crests, before being thrown by a crescendo of violence far out in the fury of the storm.
The raging storm was bigger than both of them, and they could no longer see land; nor did they want to see land as the violence of the sensual tornado buffeted them about like flotsam and jetsam. Their nerves cried for surcease to the howling winds and driving rains of passion; and yet they demanded more, too, not willing yet to return to the quiet cove of aftermath, losing themselves in the tornadic turbulence of torrid emotion and thrashing bodies.
The hurricane was building in intensity again, until its force was like nothing ever recorded, like nothing either had ever experienced. The rains were a continuous flood now, the sea a ravenous animal, a thing alive that demanded the very marrow of their bones. And in the distance, a great roar, ominous darkness was rushing toward them as the horizon was obliterated. And then they were screaming their last; TSUNAMI was upon them.
It was mid-afternoon when he donned his clothing. Allison offered him a drink but he refused, saying alcohol would put the finishing touches to what she started.
"You're feeling beat, Lover?"
"Ruined is more like it."
"Will I see you again?"
"You most certainly will. When, tonight?"
"No." She paused. "Tonight I've a date."
"With a boy?"
"How'd you guess?"
He gave her a peck on the" lips and went to the front door. He lingered, with one hand on the knob.
She approached him, her naked flesh glowing from the lusty battering, her hips swaying maddening from side to side, willing him to remain and engage her in another tussle.
"They're all boys; you were the first man and I don't know how I'll be able to take them from here on in." She passed her fingers through his hair. "Give me a ring soon, okay? And ... do you mind if I enlightened Jacqueline? I'm in just the mood to rub it in. I'll bet Wallace didn't give her half a good time as you gave me."
"Do, by all means. Don't omit even the slightest of details." He kissed her again, this time more lovingly, and then left.
6
Here." Joyce handed him a tall drink seconds after she opened the door for him. "This was made ages ago for you and the ice diluted it, so I had to freshen it up."
"Thanks." Alan took a swallow and gagged. "Wowl What'd you do, empty half a bottle of Scotch into this glass?"
"So you'll stink of liquor. Better than stinking of cheap perfume as you do now. Lord, you reek! Where'd she get the junk from, the five and ten?"
He was standing so close to her he could see the fine hairs growing along her arms, the soft texture of her slightly tanned skin and the flecks in her slanting, cat-like green eyes. She was, he admitted, one beautifully formed girl.
Noticing his somewhat stunned expression she filled her lungs with air causing the luscious, hemispheric breasts to rise, billowing out the dress. She went into a pose, flaunting her magnificent body, standing slightly away from the lamp so that the effect of the slim waist, the flaring hips, the beautifully contoured thighs, the voluptuous buttocks and the mighty globes was heightened.
"How do you like this dress? It's a number I picked out after you left the shop."
It was a blue challis smock, cut way above the knees. "It's nice," he said, rather lamely, "but how do you manage to get all of yourself into it? It looks sort of small or is that the style these days?"
"If you think this is strange wait'll I show you the others. The saleswoman said I was exploding in the boobs and bottom. She made me buy a bra, but I balked when it came to wearing a girdle. I hate to be confined."
"You don't wear a brassiere?"
She arched her back, thrusting the great globes at him. "First time in my life and it feels tight and itchy."
She was as large as Jacqueline, he knew, perhaps even larger. His fianc' was still a young woman but so ample of chest that there was some sag. If this kid's monstrous spheres remained upright then she was defying laws of nature or gravity.
"I know what you're thinking, that I'm one of those matrons whose bazooms flop all over the place." She stroked the huge melons, squeezing them while her hips swayed. 'I'll bet you'd like to be doing this."
She was wriggling her voluptuous hips excitedly, and at once he stiffened in a frenzy of desire. It can't be, he thought, not so soon after taking Allison.
"Now cut that out, do you hear." He took a long pull at his drink hoping the alcohol would lessen the sudden pain in his loins. "Come on, show me the other dresses."
She stuck her tongue out at Mm. "Now you're acting just like a husband. Don't worry, I brought you home some change; I didn't spend it all." As she turned away, heading for the couch where the purchases were stacked she said, "And you could be a husband, you know, if only for a little while. A common-law husband. Then you wouldn't have to go elsewhere for what would be home waiting for you. Who was it, your girl friend Jacqueline."
"None of your business."
"She could buy a better class of perfume." She unbuttoned the dress all the way down to her dimpled belly. The king-sized breasts, so round and golden-textured, seemed to fill up and pour over the top of the too-small brassiere. Catching his reaction she grabbed his hand and flattened it on the huge mounds. "They're yours. You know how I feel, and if you won't help then I'll find some man who'll help me to be normal."
He was at once jealous and aroused. His stomach muscles began to tighten and he felt as if he were drawn by the magnet of her marvelous body. He restrained himself at the very minute his fingers started to cup one of the mounds, "Joyce, for God's sake, I'm sixteen years older than you. What sort of a character would I be-sleeping with the mother and then sleeping with the daughter. I remember you as a child, someone I slipped pocket money to and patted on the head."
"I'm no child now."
"You're still a child to 'me, barely past the age of consent. I don't care what went on at that damned college, how many lovers you had or what sort of experiments you entered into with your Brooklyn friend."
"Hogwash. You're no paragon of virtue." She waved an arm, taking in the entire room. "The rent you're paying on this Park Avenue white elephant could get you a much larger apartment elsewhere. But this Is for impressions isn't it? Girls are so impressed by this address that they hurry up here eager to be seduced. Look at all the liquor you stock. A guy as empty in the pocket as you."
"Are you all through?"
"How many girls have you seduced on that couch? I'll bet last night was the first time that a girl was in this apartment and you slept alone," Her voice softened. "Darling, you don't know how responsive my breasts are. I'm so sensitive there that when you touch me I felt like ripping off my clothes and flinging myself at you."
"And those boys at college, didn't they touch you there, also?"
"Maybe it was because I couldn't stomach them to begin with." She flashed him a teasing smile. "The longer you avoid our eventual mating the more painful it'll be for you. I saw the way you drooled over me in that dress shop. Now I'm repeating again, I'm not asking for a permanent relationship; I don't want to take over your life. But I am asking for help. If you don't give it,, .well, consider that a threat,"
He was silent after that outburst, finishing his drink and hurriedly pouring himself another while Joyce, humming, undressed. Her marvelous body writhed sinuously as she stepped out of the new dress. She turned her broad back on him, hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the silk panties and rolled them down her swollen hips. As she raised a leg, her buttocks hung, full and heavy, like ripe fruit about to fall from a tree, "Can't you take off your clothes in the bathroom?"
She faced him, eyes wide and innocent, "Why, is there something to be ashamed of? You've seen naked women before, haven't you?"
Ordinarily, he would have simply accepted her as a very natural girl but he knew she was a teaser. Her expression was quite open, but now she moistened her lower lip and squinted her long, green, cat-like eyes.
It was sheer torture. The sight of her, the strong female odor assailing his nostrils, it all became too much, setting more fire to the lust already boiling in his body. Now, unable to contain himself he flung his whiskey glass clear across the room, shattering it, and rushed out of the apartment. He sped down the stairs and pounded on Eleanor Frezell's door.
She was dressed now as she had been last night, in the quilted housecoat with her dyed blonde hair piled high on her head. "Alan, baby! So soon! I just saw you last night."
The television was on and she invited him to sit down and enjoy an afternoon soap opera with her. He stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. He was breathing heavily and his mind was whirling. She'll do for now, he thought, she'll ease the tension and the frustration.
His hands reached out and gripped her wide shoulders, and she twisted in his embrace. "Hey, baby, hold it. I just got up a while ago, I haven't even bathed yet, and sex is the furthest thing from my mind.
She was a powerful woman, used to dealing with men, but now she had a stronger and sexually aroused person on her hands. He picked her up bodily, staggering slightly under her weight and raced into the bedroom, He threw her on the large bed with such force her head smacked against the hand-carved wooden headboard. He fell upon her, pushed the housecoat up high over her fat, squirming thighs and tugged at the clasps binding the quilted fabric together.
"Not like this, baby, please. Tell me what's wrong, why you're acting this way." She tried to be indifferent and couldn't. His needs had to be urgent because he hadn't even removed his clothes. Still, she cringed at the idea of being treated this way, like the whore that she used to be.
He ripped the housecoat apart. She began to sob, submitting like a victim, with her head thrown back, her eyes tightly closed and her mouth open, gasping from the sudden passion flooding her body when his rough, searching hands mauled the hard contours of her big breasts.
"I need you, do you understand?" He encompassed the marvelously dimensioned breasts and worked his way between the fat thighs. He sucked avidly at the erect crests and rose up slightly, moving slowly down over the large, soft belly into the dent of her navel.
"Oh, lover!" Slight, pleasurable sounds purred in her throat and she heaved up, inviting him to bury himself in her spongy flesh.
Completely aroused now, and quivering, he pulled her forcibly to him and in one single, splitting thrust drove smoothly to her. "Oh, Eleanor, baby!"
"We're with it, now, completely with it, lover!"
She weaved her hips to the downward stroke of him, arching enthusiastically as he rose. She slung her legs around his waist until their loins rubbed crisply together and performed a series of intricate pelvic movements, dragging her very soul for the pleasure that was beginning to rise in her.
Locked in the warm embrace of her thighs, he acquainted himself with the intricacies of the act, straining as he clutched great handfuls of her buttocks to lessen his pace, aware that her skillful, rotary motions had too soon carried him to the apex of his passion.
Aglow with heat, welcoming the delightfully sensational feeling that traversed the length of her squirming torso, she melted in closer embrace, expressing her happiness with a piston-like jerking of her hips.
It was completely satisfying for them both. Spasms of desire rocked them, intensifying the rhythmic flow, of her fat body. He stretched his length, making a keening sound and went stiff.
She arched her back and he slid off her, deathly still, with only his quickened breathing an indication that he was alive.
"I'm ... sorry I took you this way., .but I had to."
"It's all right, lover, it's all right," Something was bothering him, she knew. Something had forced him to run to her, to draw comfort from her body.
Alan propped himself up on an elbow; Eleanor lay on her back, completely satiated, although her hips continued to thresh. He stared at the soft swell of her big breasts and felt an overwhelming tenderness for this woman. It was unfair. He had used her now and because his frustration had been eased was ready to withdraw.
Then, a vision of Joyce, youthful, naked and alluring formed in his mind. He groaned, sank his fingers into the hefty and willing thighs and moved to take her again.
"So soon? Give yourself a chance to recuperate, lover."
"Now," he shouted, "now, now!"
She wriggled her bulbous bottom while the plump cushion of her stomach absorbed his weight. His searching tongue traced the shadows in the cleavage of her sumptuous spheres. Gently, but persuasively, she pushed him lower, requesting that he delve into other places, to search for wilder delights. Her beefy legs reared up, cords of muscles rippled along the columns of her hefty thighs and she locked him in, leaving him to seek his own way out.
He had her in agony. She was rolling over, clawing up the bedclothes, flinging her now-loose hair about and sobbing like a child, deep, heart-rending sobs.
She doubled up her knees, bringing them back to the level of her flesh-padded chin, screaming for him to hurry. He engaged her, sweltering in the heat of her loins, and she exploded in a fit of earth-shattering lust.
"It was much better this time than before or even last night," she smiled.
"I'm indebted to you." Alan sat on the edge of the bed staring off into space.
"That girl of yours giving you a bad time, lover?"
"Not her, another girl." He rose, paced up and down and told her the entire story.
"I can see now why you were so warm for my form. A twenty-year-old works you up and you come running to the willing forty-six-year-old."
"Please don't be angry."
"I'm not but if the kid's such a sexy number then take her." She reached for a cigarette, lit it and peered at him through a cloud of smoke. "Your trouble is you can't sleep with someone you've adored as a child. Okay, that's easy to understand but you tell me she's highly experienced, she's been around, dabbling in everything from orgies to Lesbianism. And, she's not a blood relative, lover."
"I've been thinking, maybe I ought to throw a party and introduce her to some men closer to her age,"
"That would be torture for you. A young boy, sleeping with her, giving her the kind of thrill she expects from you, It wouldn't work. Besides, what about Jacqueline? That's another problem on your hands, isn't it?"
He felt weary and battered, "I don't even want to think about her now." He embraced her, finding her lips as fervent as before, her tongue quivering and suctioning. Sensual pleasure rippled throughout him and he eased her away. 'The things you do to me, Eleanor,"
"And I'm always willing to do them, anytime you're in need, Let me know how everything turns out, okay, lover?"
He went slowly back upstairs. Outside his door he paused, knowing that he would throw a party, invite a good crowd. Maybe there'd be somebody Joyce's own age, a decent young man, With a boy friend her dependence upon him would lessen, he hoped. Perhaps then, once her interest was taken up by a youth she'd stop parading about naked and trying to fascinate him with her body.
Yes, a party was a great idea, he decided. Then, he had a swift picture of her with some youth. It was in clear focus: the boy with the unknown face and Joyce twisting and squirming beneath him.
He slammed his fist against the door. "No," he muttered, "'no, no."
"Now what's gotten into you?" She stepped aside while he brushed past her yet she quickly went into action, moving so swiftly and skillfully that her thigh brushed against his.
He was ready to yell at her, shouting that she apparently couldn't think of anything else but arousing him, but she smiled so sweetly that his sudden anger fled.
"Look at this outfit, won't it be great for summer outings?" She had put her long blonde hair up into a bun, donned a striped Basque shirt, white cotton shorts and strapped on a pair of thonged, Grecian sandals.
"It's beautiful," he murmured, knowing the summer sports outfit was too purposeful, accentuating the opulent curves of her breasts and hips, "A little too tight, though, isn't it?"
"That depends; most men would appreciate it." She regarded him lazily, focusing her eyes on one area of his body.
"Well, take it off for now and help me cleanup the place, I'm going to throw a party,"
"A party! Oh, Alan!'? Her hot breath, scented with alcohol, bathed his face and before he could speak her mouth was on his, her lips parted and her sharp tongue lashing his clenched teeth.
He had to hold fast to her body or be swept away in the swift tide of roaring excitement, Her hand slid down his stomach to gauge his response and satisfied by his reaction, fondled him slowly and expertly, scorching him with an eager palm.
She freed his mouth and, kissing his nose, his cheeks and ears, whispered, "do you want to now? You might be too tired after the party." Her fingers were digging into his rump and she was grinding her pelvis against his, "No," he pushed her away savagely.
"You're going to be too tired," she taunted. "I haven't felt this way over a man since I lost my virginity, and tonight I'll demand my due no matter how tired you are."
"I said for you to get dressed while I straighten up this rat's nest and make some phone calls."
"Oh, what a character you are, postponing the inevitable."
His eyes followed the sway of her ripe hips as she went to the bathroom. He shook his head to clear it and checked his liquor supply. Then, he phoned a delicatessen in the area that catered to small parties and ordered some food. Just as he replaced the phone Joyce, completely naked, stepped into the room.
"Hey, I forgot to ask you before, where do you keep your towels?"
He stared with admiration at the curvaceous body she presented to his sight. A glistening dribble of perspiration captured his glance and he traced its path as it slid between the epic-sized globes and rolled down the slope of the domed and dimpled belly to be absorbed by the snarled mat of yellow hair.
Ashamed of himself for staring, yet in a state of awe, he swept his eyes over the buoyant breasts, remembering her remark about not ever wearing a brassiere and seeing now that she did not need one. It was a wonder that there would ever be a brassiere made to fit those hillocks that were so beautiful, so captivating and such a joy to behold.
"In ... in the linen cabinet right there," he mumbled, "next to the kitchenette."
"Righto." She spun away with a lascivious toss of her great, massive pillowy buttocks.
He watched the sensual flexing of her strapping thighs, and with a groan regretted that he was throwing a party.
7
Traffic into New York
City-was snarled and the low-slung Ferrari followed by the Cadillac convertible inched its way slowly over the Triboro bridge. Behind the wheel, his face bearing the marks of a recent beating was Wallace. Next to him sat Jacqueline who was squeezed in the bucket seat with Bertini. She did not dare steal a glance at the man; she stared straight ahead, regretting with all her heart that she had not remained loyal to Alan. This, she concluded was one hell of a day, a disillusioning day. First, stupidly relinquishing her virginity. Then, finding out that Wallace was a fink, flat broke and in hock up to his eyeballs with this gangster.
Now and then Bertini would look up into the rear view mirror to check if Vicki was following in the Cadillac. Crushed up against Jacqueline, he was able to feel the length of her leg along his. She certainly had a hefty calf and thigh on her, he decided. Smirking to himself, he could almost laugh when he recalled the way he had stormed into the motel and found these two corny lovers naked. He had shoved muscle at the blond playboy, threatening to wipe him out if he didn't come up with some money.
"I thought your wife was a dream but this gal here is something out of a man's magazine. What a shape! I'd hate to be in your shoes considering your troubles but all the same I can envy you."
Wallace's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He tossed a glance from the road before him to Jacqueline, then back to the road again. He wondered if Bertini was interested in her. H so, he could certainly have her with his compliments if in the process of exchange he would be let off the hook.
"Have you decided to give me more time yet?"
"Time! I've almost decided to give you another beating, playboy. You've got a lot of time, more than I ever had. Time to ride around in expensive foreign cars and play with big-busted broads. Me, I've got to hustle."
"I might be able to get rid of my boat but it'll take several days."
"Hah! Two to one some bank has a prior Hen on it."
"No, no, it was purchased for me outright by Vicki when we were first married."
"I'm not the seagoing type. Now if you had a night club ... say, what year is this Ferrari?"
"No, I need this car."
"I'll bet it's all paid for. By Vicki," he laughed. "Let's see, new they cost around thirteen or fourteen grand, don't they and this is what, a '65? Probably worth about eighty-five hundred to nine grand on the market. I'll tell you what. Since you owe me about five thousand bucks or so, I'll give you an extra thousand bucks for this Ferrari and return all those shares and we'll be even."
The offer was tempting. Having the shares back would give him a little power and some voice with those lousy factory owners. In fact, since Vicki was hoping to gain full control of the factory he might work out a deal with her. "You'd give me a thousand dollars in cash as well?"
"Exactly what the man said, playboy."
"I don't know, Bertini. This car maintains a high value, it doesn't drop as rapidly as American cars. I'm sure I could get about eleven thousand for it."
"Suit yourself. I made my offer. The next move's up to you. Only I want that dough you owe by eight o'clock tonight. Not five minutes after. Get me? Or I organize a team of man hunters. What the hell do I want with lousy shares? I'm not playing the stock market."
Jacqueline looked at her lover who was concentrating on his driving. Her lush mouth drooped open; she examined briefly and with distaste the leering and sharp-featured Bertini-and shuddered as if a cold wind had passed over her.
A cruel thought entered Wallace's head. "Do you like our girl, here, Bertini?"
He leaped to the beat. "Oh, ho, so that's the way it goes, eh, playboy?"
"Instead of a thousand make it two thousand cash. I'll send Jacqueline here around with the registration fully signed and you give her the money and the shares. Is that square enough for you?"
The car left the bridge and pulled into the wide street, parking on the extreme downtown corner of the block. Bertini, ready to leave, lingered for a moment to enjoy the muscled feel of Jacqueline's thighs. "Playboy, you got yourself a deal."
The Cadillac eased to a stop behind the Ferrari. Jacqueline watched the hated man slide in next to Vicki. "Wallace, you're a swine! What the hell makes you think I'd cooperate in anything as rotten as this?"
"We're a team, aren't we? We're sticking together from here on in, aren't we? What do you intend to do, run back to that failure, Alan? Smarten up, there're a lot of unpleasant things in life we're forced to do. If you didn't care for me you wouldn't have given me your virginity."
"I just can't trust you. Somehow I feel you'll pull something. I didn't know you before but now I realize you're now at all Alan's superior much less his equal. He may be a failure but at least he's an honest man. You're capable of too much double-dealing."
"I'll pull all right, right out of your sniveling life. If you're going to associate with a fast stepper like me then you'd better acquire a little sophistication. Sure, I'm a playboy, a member of the jet set, and I wonder if they'd accept a librarian like you, big boobs notwithstanding."
Afternoon sunlight fell on the East River, turning the far side of the shore into a coppery mass and blackening the Manhattan side with heavy shadows. Jacqueline stood on a parapet while a strong breeze broke the combed flow of her hair and chilled her fevered cheeks.
She had just left Wallace, and the memory of the morning together with the arrival of Bertini and Vicki left her with remorse. She was fighting to hold back the tears while her body shook with tremors.
Her clothes were wrinkled and dirty and she was in such a state of confusion that she didn't know where to turn. It's happened to every woman, she considered. Some of the girls of her childhood lost their virginity early. What was it for them; some fumbling beneath the dark stairs, a hurried exchange of inexpert kisses and then pain, and finally it was over for both parties, without any satisfaction. At least, the first time Wallace had satisfied her.
From what she had heard women always loved the first man to have them, but she experienced mixed feelings when she considered him. All right, so now he had made her a woman. But why did it have to be that bastard! What in the name of hell had prevented her from giving herself to the man she was engaged to, Alan?
Below her automobiles were a silvery blur as they raced up the East Side highway in the direction of the Bronx and Westchester County. Slowly, she left the parapet, waited for a break in the traffic and crossed East River Drive. She entered her apartment building, her footsteps echoing hollowly, and nodded at the doorman who pressed the elevator button for her. In the mirrored elevator she close dher eyes. The second bout last night had been one of wanton passion. She had acted with the knowledge of an experienced woman. They had stayed clasped together, moving gently; then he had stopped abruptly, almost too abruptly. She had been unable to prevent her hips from twisting and thrashing despite the weight of him. His mouth had slid wet and warm over her breasts causing her to jerk and rear up spasmodically. It had been good last night. Then, he geared himself to her response, whispering things that made her cry out in delight. But this morning, at the motel, he just didn't seem to care about anyone but himself. Once his own pleasure was achieved he had rolled off like a log.
The radio was playing a rock 'n roll number. Quietly nude, flaunting her slender, well-curved body, Allison adjusted the volume in order to hear what Jacqueline was saying.
"Come on, tell me about it while I take a bath."
"There's nothing more to tell, that's it."
"So it finally happened, eh, precious? Our big booby librarian lost the virginity she held on to for so many long years." Allison tested the water in the tub and stepped in. She pretended she was on a chute sliding into a swimming pool and went, "Wheeee!" She was fully immersed up to her neck and her breasts, rather full for such a slender girl broke the surface of the water like pink balls.
The bathroom, while large, was uncomfortably hot and reeked of bath scent. The tiled walls gleamed with sweat, and steam formed a thick wreath about the huge light globe set in the dead center of the ceiling. Jacqueline tugged at the collar of her dress and turned down the cover of the toilet seat to sit. Again, briefly this time, she recounted the events of the morning and afternoon.
"You poor thing. You look so worn out and disheveled. And to think I once envied you because you were more stacked. Losing my virginity never had me in such a state of calamity. Broke playboys, threatening gangsters, irate wives; my girl, you goofed. You were a sap for keeping your legs closed so long; you should have opened them for Alan."
Jacqueline stood and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. "Talking to you is a waste. You're calloused and you're hard-hearted. I've treated Alan badly, I know, but basically he's a good person. I'm sure he'll understand when I explain all to him."
"Don't bother trying. He was over here this afternoon and we had quite a ... a chat." She stroked her breasts then suddenly mashed them together and began, to tease the tips until they hardened. "You missed a good bet there. Talk about virility!"
The other woman gasped. She looked down at the long, curved body of her friend and spat. "You tramp, you rotten tramp! The one decent man I know and you had to seduce him."
Allison half-rose and water sloshed over the rim of the tub. "Oh, come on! He was up for grabs. You didn't want him. He was a failure, remember? And you've got some lousy nerve calling me a tramp. We're paddling the same canoe now because as of this morning you lost your title of maiden."
Jacqueline's eyes darted wildly about the bathroom, looking for some instrument, some weapon. She bared her teeth at the sight of the medicine cabinet and quickly snatched up bottles and jars.
Allison screamed. The various creams and colognes landed in the tub with force. Scented water spilled over the tiled floor. Jacqueline, bath towels, floor mats, sponges, were all soaked.
Jacqueline slid against the door jamb. Fortunately the bathroom had a six-inch drop below the level of the rest of the apartment and the water remained there. She staggered over to the half-empty tub to gaze down upon the nude figure of her friend.
The other girl glared up at her. "You bitch! Just wait until I get out of here and get my whip." She displayed a purple bruise on her cheek as well as a livid discoloration on her arm. "You might have put my eyes out. Anyway," she slung her long leg over the tub. "I'm going to try and put yours out right now."
They both collided in their frantic attempts to reach the bedroom closet where what was called the "Marquis de Sade" equipment was kept. Allison got there first and planted herself against the door, her eyes challenging, her breasts with their extended nipples brazen. Water trickled into the crevices and along the contours of her slender, maddeningly shaped body and she stared at her rival with an expression that was at once angry and full of confidence.
Jacqueline, on the other hand, was filled with venom. Her hands went at the opening of her soaked dress and she ripped it into shreds, snarling as she prepared to fight the other woman. The dress gone, she flaunted her proud femininity, knowing hers was the superior body.
"You skinny witch! How could Alan play with my pumpkins these past months and then accept your little apples? He was frustrated, that's why. I churned him up so he had to take his frustration out on someone, even a bag of bones like you."
"Don't make me laugh!" Allison cupped her full breasts so like the halves of grapefruit. "Anything over a handful is wasted, and he was able to get his hands on these. And mine can stand without support but your pumpkins sag. Take off that cheap bra and let me see them droop."
The big girl tackled the smaller girl like a savage, pitting body against body, using hatred and cruelty as weapons in a fight that would to the end be without mercy on either side. The impact toppled them both on the floor and right away it was no contest. Their bodies closely joined, tangled and interlocked so that they rolled over the rug, coming up against the bed and rolled back again toward the closet. Allison spat and scratched and bit, but Jacqueline dealt stinging blows with all' of her strength, bruising the smaller girl's temples and splitting her mouth. She clutched at the closely-cropped dyed red hair and yanked until the pretty face of its owner was contorted with pain.
"I'm going to kill you for taking my man, you filthy prostitute," Jacqueline panted. Her fist crashed again and again into the distorted face until it was smeared with blood. "No man will want you again ... after I'm through with you. You'll ... never ... pose for another ... photographer, you whore!"
Although she was weakening, Allison managed to grab the swinging arm and twist it so that the Amazon above her squirmed and screamed from the pain. She toppled off and the smaller girl scrambled to her feet, reached the closet, shoved aside the black leather boots and the tight leather pants and got her hands on the whip. The stock was a short piece of wood but the plaited leather thongs ran to over six feet in length.
She lashed out without direction, unable to get the range since blood dripped from the abrasions on her forehead and filmed her eyes. She was rewarded by Jacqueline's howl and the sight of her cringing. She hated the big girl, but now her revenge was close and she retaliated by lashing the big buttocks.
"You haven't got a shape; you're just fat, you big cow. That's all, fat! Fat on your butt, fat on your boobs arid fat where, your brains "should be."
"You scarecrow, I'll kill you if I get my hands on you." The tip of the whip shredded her panties and
Jacqueline hopped about like a cripple with her heels broken and her torn stockings dangling about her ankles. A cruel, well-aimed stroke drew a streak down her broad back from the shoulder down to the swell of her thrusting, flesh-packed buttocks and she yelped. Another stroke in just about the same spot tore the catch on her brassiere and the white, hemispheric globes she was so proud of escaped and sprang apart, voluptuous, exciting, their pink tips pointing in different directions.
Allison had viewed those breasts rather indifferently many times before and always called them hillocks, but now they appeared like white mountains, their very size increasing her anger.
"Cow! Fat slut of a cow!"
"You're jealous because you've only got pebbles. You'd need four the size of yours to make one of mine." She rubbed her smarting buttocks, eyeing her enemy warily. The tips had risen and were now thick, rosy buds topping the succulent melons, "Oh," she yelled, "oh, oh, oh!" The whip twined around her thighs and she danced in a frenzy as every nerve in her body pulsated, the huge breasts bobbing like suddenly released balloons.
Allison was really wielding the torturous instrument with a vengeance now, moving in closer with her feet planted apart for leverage as she laid lash after lash on the brunette's gyrating body. She was determined to repay her for the humiliating defeat and took a savage joy at the changing colors of the rich, symmetrical buttocks and the big boulders. Those especially presented a terrific target, and she lashed away with a definite rhythm, laughing as Jacqueline ran from one corner of the bedroom to the other, pumping her hefty legs crazily.
But then, the whip snagged, knotting about the big girl's waist. Jacqueline seized the tightened whip, pulled the slender redhead and toppled her with a vicious blow to the chin.
"Let's see if you can take what you've just dished out."
She scrambled to her feet, her bleeding face twisted. Then it was Allison's turn to scream as the lash scalded her slender body. Again and again it was laid cruelly across her small but well-curved posterior, each sharp snap of the whip at once echoed by her cry of agony. She had given it to Jacqueline in a steady cadence, but she was bigger, muscular, and her force was more furious.
Jacqueline licked her lips. "You don't enjoy it, eh? It was no fun for me either but I was able to absorb it better because I'm more padded." She swept the whip back and forth across the slim, white torso, slowly, deliberately, savoring every cruel moment as sensation began to build into a fire spreading throughout her loins. She hesitated just long enough to switch hands and then she brandished the whip, raising it high and struck out at the writhing breasts that she had to admit, even in this vicious moment, were able to stand up without support.
"Enough, enough. Oh, please, please Jacqueline darling, it was wrong of me to teU Alan. Please, I beg you to stop."
"It was wrong to seduce him too, wasn't it?"
"Yes, yes, yes." Allison dodged behind a chair, was caught there, and raced about seeking other protection. There was none and she threw herself across the bed, lying face down hoping there would be some mercy in the Amazon she once considered a friend.
The sight of the bowl-like buttocks grinding together in an incessant rhythm incensed Jacqueline. She imagined how Alan's hands must have cupped them as he drew her slender, parted thighs closer to him. She could picture those rounded cheeks pumping and pumping in ecstasy and she went wild.
She appraoched the bed, roughly spread the slender thighs apart and beat the up-thrust bottom with the whip, now doubled, swinging as hard as she could until her body broke out in perspiration. Soon her breath became ragged and the sweat sliding down in thick streaks over her mammoth-sized spheres blended with the blood on her pulsing belly and flaring hips. Still, she didn't stop.
Blackness finally enveloped her, and the room spun before her startled eyes. Allison lay prone, no longer crying, her hands mashing a pillow against her face.
"Had enough yet, prostitute?" She examined the angry, crisscrossing weals on the once creamy-sheened rump with blurry eyes.
Allison's voice was almost stifled by the pillow. "No ... I can take ... more ... you can beat me some more."
Jacqueline had gotten her second wind but suddenly she was revolted by her sadism. She flung the blood-soaked whip aside and pressed her hands to her face, sobbing because she had been involved in such cruelty. "What's happening to me," she screamed. "What have I done to you? Oh, my lord, just a day ago I was a decent woman and now I've become a tramp and a sadist." She fell across the bed next to the friend she had beaten, her big body racked by terrible sobs.
"Baby, don't take on so. I deserved it, every single lash. I should have been loyal to you and not ruined your future with Alan."
"He won't take me back now,"
"He will, baby, just go to him and you'll see,"
"No, no, he won't. I slept with another man when my virginity was promised to him. We were engaged."
"I am a prostitute, just like you said, baby, but you're not a tramp. Please believe me, you're not. You gave yourself to one man a couple of times but I've slept with hundreds. There's no comparison, Alan will take you back." Allison stroked the long, well-rounded legs slowly, soothingly.
"I'm sorry, darling, you're so much smaller and took advantage of you." Her body, under independent control began to move against the soft rhythm of the other girl's hand, "Forget it, honey, we'll make it up now and forget this horrible fight for all time." Allison eyed the huge, up-thrust pillows wondering if she could encompass one of them with both hands. She tried and her fingertips failed to meet but she rejoiced in the experiment. "Those things are something."
"You said they sagged," Jacqueline whimpered. The sensation was exquisite, and in spite of the welts on her hips and legs she began to rotate the lower portion of her torso, bunching up the bedclothes as she did so.
"They sag slightly, honey, but only because they're so large and heavy. No woman with your dimensions could stand straight out like a shelf." She leaned over the enormous mounds she admired and brushed their crests with her bruised mouth. "Mmmmmm, are they delicious!"
"Ooh, darling!"
Allison rubbed the side of her battered face against the quivering melons and rained hot kisses on them. The other woman jerked up and moaned as the kisses became nibbles and the nibbles became bites.
"like that?'
"Oh, it's so., .soothing!" Her arms locked about Allison's neck, and she heaved up with her thighs parted, her pelvis rotating and her big-cheeked buttocks revolving in a frenzy. "Allison, Allison baby!"
"Yes, I'll be your baby now." She left a trail of kisses along the sweating belly, working her way along the squirming waist, down the flaring hip and over the writhing thighs.
Jacqueline bit her lips and arched her back, feeling that this was all so unreal, With a woman! No, no, it wasn't happening to her, it couldn't be happening to her, and yet she was powerless. Worse, she wanted it to happen! She embraced her, welcoming the kisses, urging her to hurry and rub out the itch that made her thresh about so and drive her crazy.
"You're setting me on fire, Allison!"
Allison knew how to quench the blaze she had started. She was experienced at this sort of thing, having taken and given herself to men as well as women. When the big girl was thoroughly inflamed she blended with her, delighting in the way she screamed and twisted about, holding fast to the sweating, gyrating body until their movements were as one.
Their pain finally dissolved under the stronger force of their pleasure and they worked together, bringing Joy to their union. They reached a point of intoxication that had them gasping. Allison held fast with her hands, legs and teeth as she was caught up in a rhythm that seemed inhuman. But it was Jacqueline who was first to reach the shores of final ecstasy. Her scream of release and lust was animalistic. She held tight to the small pumping buttocks while the great flesh-filled balloons tossed about buoyantly.
Now Allison's slender body uncoiled and her nails scraped the sides of the wide hips as she dragged herself up the seemingly insurmountable heights of sheer bliss.
After they had parted, showered and donned fresh clothing Jacqueline said, "we've got to pretend that this never happened, Allison."
Allison was before the mirror dabbing make-up on her face to hide the bruises. "While the mind can sometimes be fooled the eyes can't, honey. Until those marks on your body fade you'll always remember this day."
"I suppose it will be impossible not to remember but all the same I'll try like hell to forget."
"I have a hunch you enjoyed it even more than I did. Wow, the way you screamed. TeU me the truth, did you scream like that with Wallace?'
"No, I didn't. But I'm a normal woman and this was abnormal. It can't happen again between us."
The other girl shrugged. "We sleep in the same bed and it's bound to happen unless the men I date keep me knocked out. You better start shacking up steadily or else take to the living room couch at night because we had ourselves a ball-people always want to repeat the good things in life."
8
Alan, drink in hand stood in a corner framed with shadows and watched the antics of his guests. He had an apprehensive air about him as if waiting for the signal that would turn the party into an out and out brawl. Someone had turned up the stereo to an ear-splitting volume, most of the liquor had gone, those couples who weren't dancing were nuzzling each other and one excited twosome had vanished into the bathroom. He checked his watch thinking they had been in there a very long time.
Near him, a girl whom he had never seen before was standing against the wall, her skirt raised above fat thighs. A skinny, effeminate man who bore some reputation as a poet was passing his mouth up and down her dirty legs.
Under a table a man was fast asleep, and not far from him a girl was curled into a bundle and snoring away. They were married to each other and believed firmly in togetherness.
A blonde girl was lying full length on the couch staring up at the ceiling, a dreamy expression on her face. Between her opening and closing thighs was a bearded man, talking and laughing away. Suddenly, Alan saw that the man's wafer-thin body was pulsating. They were having sex!
He walked over but before he reached them the fellow leaped up with a triumphant laugh. The girl hadn't budged, her skirt was still hiked up over her thighs.
"Ma-" he said, "if that was your best it simply is not good enough for me. We'll make no future scenes."
Her lover shrugged, gave a hitch to his jeans. He bumped into his host and slammed him on the back. "Alan, baby I The party's out, man, way out. You've been put on the map!"
Well, Alan figured, it could be a lot worse. He went over to the table containing what was left of the liquor and mixed a Scotch and soda. Soon, he hoped, with the help of night and the good lord, my first and last party of the season will end.
"I thought that big-boobed blonde gal was going to dance for us," was the shout.
"Yeah," someone else took up the cry. "Where's that coUege girl with the unbelievable body at? She did promise to give us a lust-arousing dance."
"Joyce, Joyce, we want Joyce!"
Whichever guests were sober started to clap and whistle, and presently a space was cleared in the center of the room. Joyce, looking extremely lovely with her blonde hair reaching her shoulders and her awesome body prominently displayed in a beige safari jacket, navy trousers and black combat boots went into her dance.
Alan watched her and a muscle twitched in his cheek. He was the only man in the room with the appearance of a gentleman. He wore an immaculately tailored gray suit, a white shirt and a black tie. Thus, among this motley crew of beatniks, bohemians, gigolos, and pursuers-of-art, he looked out of place. But, still, it was his party, and all eyes were on the girl he had arranged it for.
He watched her as if through a haze. Dimly, he realized the music had been softened. Now, there was scarcely any sound in the room save for the curious, slapping noise of her feet; someone had turned off all lights except one and it played over her, heightening the effect of her maddeningly-shaped figure.
Men shifting, shuffling their feet, unable to be just spectators. Alan sensed this because he moved around, too, clenching and unclenching his fists. She was making a spectacle of herself, and he had half a mind to stop her. She closed her eyes and raised her hands high above her tossing head. The great bulges of her phenomenal breasts, unhampered and appearing almost twice their normal size shifted about in the loose-fitting shirt.
Her tongue flicked out, moistening her full lower lip. She turned slowly, allowing each man and woman to see the full outline of her marvelous body. Her hips bulged, threatening to burst through the skin-tight pants; each cheek shifted restlessly and began to grind smoothly, effortlessly.
"The light," a girl shouted, "put more light on her. This is something not to be missed."
The lone lamp illuminating the room was shifted and it bathed her twisting torso in an effective way, making her movements more fluid and rhythmic.
"I need music," she whispered. The volume of the stereo set was raised. Her figure, despite its enormity, was supple and coordinated, able to give the dance a taste of eroticism. She whirled about, spread her well-fleshed legs apart and as passionate sounds issued from her throat her hands crept over the epic-sized, heaving breasts.
Every one in the audience was affected.
Now, the jacket drifted away from the top of her pants showing a band of golden, smooth flesh. She shoved the jacket up higher, almost under her armpits and the flawless breasts, succulent and hemispheric tumbled out. The entire room went silent. They billowed over her rib cage and came to rest high and perfectly spherical, topped by pouting pink nipples.
"Joyce, don't!" Alan started forward only to be restrained by a young boy named Talbot, who had been invited in the hopes of arousing Joyce's interest.
Her body weaved in time to the music's increasing tempo, and her slanted green eyes, wide open now, were filled with craving and desire. Her wide, magnificently curved hips, unrestrained, rolled and twisted with a speed that was at once dazzling and unbelievable. Her breathing became faster and faster like that of a woman caught up in the spasms of passion.
Talbot licked his dry lips. "Gee, sir," he said out of deference to his host's age. "How can you stand living under the same roof with that whirling dervish?"
One of the bearded fellows heard the remark and added his own. "Man, she's got a wiggle on her that would finish me off for keeps. Yes, yes, yes. I took her on I'd be one dead cat."
"You watch your remarks, you bastard!" Alan hissed. 'I'm that girl's guardian."
The man stepped back with his hands raised. He wore the uniform of a bohemian defying conventional society: Jeans, sandals and a grimy shirt. "Well then, guard her, guardian man. Yes, yes, yes."
The music blaring out of the twin speakers drowned his voice. Joyce had kicked off the combat boots and with a quick intake of breath dropped to her haunches and extended her arms. Moisture dotted her upper Hp and her tongue, as swift as a snake's, flicked it off. Her pose, lusty and erotic, accentuated the opulence of the thrusting melons. She encompassed them, squeezing them like cushions, mashing them until lust was reflected in everyone's eyes.
With a shrill cry she rose and shoved her hands between her lush thighs, tearing at the jeans in an effort to claw past layers of sensuous flesh until her fingertips encountered the ultimate mystery. She howled like an animal, a terrible howl that sent her into a tremor that rippled from the shoulders down to the twitching hips.
The jacket went flying into the audience. The jeans went next. Joyce kicked them aside and went into an insolent, definitely provocative pose, Tall, proud, Junoesque, the green-flecked eyes brilliant, the wide mouth parted, she was expectant, awaiting approval.
It came, with the sound of whistles and hand-clapping for she was a dazzling Aphrodite, luscious and breath-taking, radiant with health, the mixture of light and shadows streaking the up-thrust cherry-tipped pillows, enhancing their spherical shape and enormity.
"Joyce!" Alan's was a plaintive cry born of the sight of the tanned goddess. "Stop this exhibition!"
She didn't heed him. Her long-fingered hands clasped at the summit of the dazzlingly long thighs. The flimsy nylon panties were shredded with a series of vicious jerks and the light etched out the bold, blinding-white rump that was a work of art. As she glided about the room some of the guests made a grab for her elusive body. Smiling, she tossed her sizable hips from side to side, parted her beautifully formed thighs and bent her back so that the wealth of her blonde hair almost touched the floor. Her mammoth breasts, lurching about, rose up while her pelvis wriggled in abandon, the strength rising from her full muscular calves to control the movement of her lower extremities. She bent backward, stretching every muscle, the sweat gleaming on her rolling belly and running in thick rivulets into the tangled forest of her loins.
Alan cried out and smacked a palm over his tortured eyes. Shaking like a victim of the ague, he swallowed the remains of his drink, the melodious beat of the music assaulting his ears.
Joyce was spinning about now, and she landed face down on the floor, the weight of her heavy body balanced on her muscles-ridged stomach while her hindquarters, still grinding in tempo to the music, appeared enlarged, under the white glare of the single lamp. She rolled over with a snarl, spread her writhing thighs, thrust up her belly and went into a wild pelvic wriggling so rapid the eye could not follow.
Alan glared about him for a second then moved swiftly about the room switching on all lights. He lowered the volume on the stereo set. "Okay, folks, what is this, a party or a burlesque show?"
Joyce came up out of a spin and reeled against the wall. She was panting heavily, and her breasts rose and fell like two huge basketballs.
Talbot, the only other man at the party wearing a suit, dashed up to her. He was a fresh-faced lad, slightly older than Joyce, his dark hair chopped in a crew cut. Without a word, he plastered himself against her and spread his hands over her buttocks. Cupping them, he pulled her forcibly to him while his knee worked between her sweating and quivering thighs. She reacted wantonly, grinding her hips and pressing him against the cushions of her naked breasts.
Watching them going at each other like cats in an alley sent a deep pain stabbing into Alan's stomach. He approached them, sank his fingers into the boy's shoulder, spun him off balance and lanced a vicious right into his face.
The kid's head snapped back as if unhinged and before he could fall he was broken up with a terrific right cross on the jaw. He crumpled like wet wash.
Joyce giggled as Alan bent, slid his hands under the boy's armpits and hoisted him to his feet. His nose and mouth were bleeding. "She did it, she excited me."
Shaking with rage and disgust, Alan propelled him toward the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Hey you two, open up, will you."
"Later, man, later."
"This Is my apartment and I order you to open that damned door before I kick it in."
A .couple came out, the man disheveled, the girl completely naked and clutching her clothes. The boy was half-dragged inside and his head shoved under the cold water faucet.
He sobbed, "Why're you blaming me? You invited me here to meet her, didn't you? That's what you told me over the phone. And ... and she advertised that body almost from the start. I couldn't take it watching those big things bounce any longer. I just had to find out if they were real."
"Shut up. You're young but you're slimy. What kind of a person-are you to pull a stunt like that at a party?" He tossed a towel at him. "Wipe up and get out, you pig. Someone ought to put you in a cage."
Outside, the party had taken on some of its former spirit. Joyce, completely dressed once more, was talking to a group of men. They were all trying to make dates with her. At the sight of Alan they ceased their attempts and drifted away.
Alan mixed himself a fresh drink; absorbed in his thoughts. Why the hell did Joyce pull a stunt like that? He was well aware of his jealousy. She aroused a wild hunger in men and it was only because of the display of his temper that most of them now respectfully curbed their desires. He felt the Scotch burn its way down to his stomach. Kid or not, she was the most exciting woman he had ever known, barring none. But worse, he sensed how raging her lusts for him were and that was the reason why she went into that frantic dance. She wanted him to be aware that he was living with a volcano that at any time could explode.
"The party's over, people. I think you all better clear the hell out."
Some started to grumble but just then Talbot staggered out of the bathroom shaking cold water from his head. He lunged toward the liquor table, scattering guests in his wake, seized an open bottle and, raising it aloft, smashed it against the wall, keeping the jagged remains in his fist.
Someone gasped and then the party was plunged into silence. People fanned out, seeking tables, chairs, anything as protection. The boy had turned into a snarling madman.
"Talbot!" Alan took two steps toward him but stopped when the boy raised the broken bottle to a level with his throat.
"Get back. I intend to do a job on that big blonde bitch."
"Are you insane? Now come on, you're not that drunk so stop acting like a dope."
"No one's ever beaten me, not even my parents. I owe her something."
There was only one course of action left open. Alan raised his doubled fists. His life was spent at the typewriter and he still had that Gothic novel to do. Hell, he had been advanced fifteen hundred bucks out of his agent's pocket. If this wild-eyed drunk sliced up his hands ... But he would be damned before he allowed this lunatic to mar Joyce.
Talbot crouched like an experienced knife fighter, holding the shattered bottle slightly above waist level. "Come on, Where's she at, send that blonde out."
The guests remained silent and steadfast.
"Okay, then I'll start carving at this end." He pivoted on his heels and staggered toward a slender, white-faced brunette who could not have been more than eighteen. "Perhaps you beatniks will realize I mean business."
As he approached her the girl screamed, "Send her out for God's sake or he'll kill me."
"Smart girl." His eyes gleamed. "She understands what I'm up to."
"All right, here I am, now what do you intend to do?" Joyce came to stand directly before him. She stood proudly and defiantly, the beige jacket so tight it brought out every curve of her voluptuous body. Light coming from all parts of the room glistened on her dampened, partly-exposed breasts; their tips stuck out bold and rebellious.
A woman shrieked, clapped both hands to her temples and fell to the floor in a dead faint. Talbot ignored her. "I'm not going to kill you, I'll just rearrange a few parts of your body. Your breasts are somewhat in excess so I'll start there. Who knows, it may be something of an improvement. The sight of them after I'm finished certainly won't result in anyone being beaten up again."
Alan tore off his jacket, flung it in the boy's face and followed it with a leap. He slammed against him, the impact carrying one hundred and eighty pounds of hard flesh and muscle. Talbot careened against a table sending its contents to the floor, regained his balance and closed in. They threshed about and when they broke free Alan's hands were smeared with crimson and the bosom of his shirt was in ribbons.
He caught the boy's right wrist in a judo grip, jerked it up violently and then sharply back. There was an audible crack and the jagged bottle-neck, its edges bloody, fell to the floor.
Talbot cried out and before he could recover Alan ripped three punches to his face. A jab to his jaw, a short right in almost the same spot, and a vicious uppercut that splintered his nose.
As he reeled once more into range Alan set him up for a left cross that snapped his head back almost enough to break his neck. He went down and out.
Then, pandemonium broke loose. There was a wild scurry for jackets, sandals and handbags. Chairs were overturned, furniture was smashed, bottles crashed on the floor. The bohemians became primitive savages in their haste to reach the front door, dragging the unconscious man with them. They kicked, they punched, they shoved, they tore at each other's clothing. Within one minute the room was deserted save for Joyce and Alan.
"Well," she examined his bleeding hands, "was it worth it? Just look at this place! If you had slept with me when I asked you to we'd both have been better off,"
Fortunately no tendons were cut and he was able to flex his fingers quite freely. "You didn't have to exhibit yourself like that. Hell, everybody can see what sort of figure you've got in clothes, so what were you trying to prove anyway, that you don't wear falsies?"
"Oh, shut up." She washed his hands, dabbed at the cuts with iodine and asked if he thought she should apply bandages.
"No, these are just superficial cuts. I can leave them exposed."
She ran her hands over him, savoring the strength of his muscular body, "You know how to punch, don't you? You're a real man!" Excitement caused her heart to pound. Her senses were deliriously alert and a tender warmth trickled through her. She told him that the misery and heartache of the past would melt as she lay in his arms. She passed her fingertips along his rock-hard chest and with a cry of eagerness threw herself at him, "Oh, darling, darling, you're what I've been seeking all along."
He tried to hold her off and explain that she was much too young for him. "When you're my age I'll be over fifty, slowing down while you'll be at the height of feminine passion. It won't work, Joyce. I'm heading rapidly toward middle age and you haven't even voted yet. For heaven's sake, I dated your mother!"
"I've heard that argument already. Now will you or won't you sleep with me? You drool over me; you're jealous of me so why hold back."
He looked at her and swallowed, knowing that this was one of the luckiest moments of his life. She was such a magnificent specimen with that handsome body.
He looked at the great, firm thighs, the full-blown succulent buttocks and the huge quivering bowls of flesh he longed to seize and caress. Then, a strange feeling of jealousy pervaded him. How many men must have enjoyed the sight of this splendid creature and the lust of her fantastically shaped torso. He reached for her and they squirmed in a tight embrace, exchanging hot passionate kisses. When they parted they were both breathless but it was Joyce who was slightly faint. She was aware of the throbbing maleness of him.
"Oh, you are the man for me! I've got to have you."
Alan was tired, he needed sleep. The sexual bouts with Eleanor and Allison had exhausted him. But he would have to arouse Joyce completely, work up such a response and satisfy her thoroughly if her rotten past was to be wiped out.
He hoped he wouldn't fail her, that he could batter her into submission and rise triumphantly. But, eager as he was to take her, for one second more he wanted to take in her beauty. Her breasts were massive. No wonder she considered them the source of her appeal, unusually round with the red nipples like adornments.
He rushed at her, taking pleasure in the way she groaned when he crushed her quivering globes in his hands. Her mouth was open, ripe and red; and he pressed his lips there, feeling her teeth nip at his tongue. He tasted blood but made no effort to tear his lips free.
She gasped a little and swung her big body until it was flush with his. Her eyes closed and when she spoke her voice was almost a purr.
"Oh, darling, make me happy."
He passed his hand along the nape of her neck, into her silky, golden hair. Her arms hardened, pulled him closer and he pressed his bleeding lips to hers. He kissed her brutally, feeling her contoured stomach surge against his while her thighs, wanting him strong and powerful between them, open and closed. He slid one hand around her broad back to cup her pneumatic cheeks while his free hand struggled upward to grasp one of the straining hillocks.
Her kiss was more intense, her tongue lashing the insides of his mouth, her hands beating a tattoo on his shoulders. He kneaded the taut spheres, measuring them and pulling at their hardened tips.
"They're big!"
Her hot breath burned his face. "You're big, too, and am I ever glad." She sank her teeth into his lower Hp and convulsed against him uncontrollably.
Her body bucked spasmodically as her lips clung to his in an endless kiss that robbed them both of breath. His hands, were now shoving the navy pants down over the flaring and writhing hips past the swollen, muscular buttocks.
He jerked his bruised mouth free. "Relax, I can't get these damned things off. Come on, relax your muscles."
"Muscles have nothing to do with it. I'm just too damned large down there."
His fingers encountered soft down, and when he plucked at a few snarled strands she giggled. Finally, he managed to push the pants past one rock-hard mound and then the other. "What a job! I'm not going to have any strength left."
"In that case then I better help you." Her hand slid away from him and she backed off to peel the pants down the columns of her shapely legs. Her calves were extremely large and for a crazy moment she became entangled and nearly lost her balance. "Oh, brother, these things are so tight."
"Why did you buy them so small then?"
"Damn it," the wealth of blonde hair slid forward, blotting out her face. "I wanted to excite you."
"You didn't need tight clothing to do that."
"Oh, no!" At last she tore the pants free. "Look at the way I practically had to beg you."
"You'll be begging again, begging me to stop." He went at his clothes like an eager schoolboy with his first woman, ready now to blend his flesh with hers. His fatigue had passed and he thrilled to the fresh flow of blood circulating through his veins.
"Shall we pull out the couch." She indicated the breadth of her shoulders and the width of her hips. "Last night I found it too small for me."
"We'll leave it as is, I don't want you having any room to escape."
"All right," she said, smiling. Deliberately, she went into a showgirl's strut as she unbuttoned her shirt. Her buttocks, like matched white pillows, contrasting with her tanned body, rotated as if greased. She heard his deep inhalation of breath and knew he was stunned by the enormity of her snow-white cheeks, so wantonly shaped and brawny, separated by an extremely deep cleft. "Think you could get your arms around them?"
"I'm going to try like hell."
"You'll be able to, you're a real man, not like those sexually inadequate college boys I wasted myself on." She stroked her bold, spherical breasts with their sharpened peaks. She seemed to take pleasure in displaying her generous bottom, acquainting him again with the fact that the mammoth, thrusting cheeks had stretched her pants to the ripping point.
"I intend to benefit from this night, Alan, and I want you to do all the things with me that you've learned through the years. I want to profit from your experience." Her innocent expression gave way to twisting-mouthed lasciviousness. Her slanted eyes were fixed on his as she stepped lithely into the light to show the pronounced swelling, abundantly covered with a silky blondeness. "Take me, my lover, take me now!"
She cupped her full-formed breasts, rubbing them one against the other so that the nipples rolled. She drew his hand up over the soft belly to the luscious swells, arching her pliant back so that the bulk of her globular flesh spread from armpit to" armpit.
He could feel the heat rising from her body and smell the strong female odor of her. It overpowered him, tearing down all resistance. When he slid a hand between her opened thighs he felt himself bursting, the blood was pounding so in his head that he struggled to maintain control over this lusty, impatient young girl.
She sank back upon the couch-with him on top of her. The call of passion was so intense, the big body before him so teasingly serpentine that he plunged down, dimly conscious of her muscled thighs and the ardor and grace of her as she flattened her hands on the small of his back and swung her brawny rump up in complete abandonment. He tried to take her slowly, gradually, using his weight to gain the wealth of her.
No sooner had they fused than Joyce screamed and twisted her hips to break free. "Ooh, it hurt."
"You're fighting me, don't fight me."
"I can't help it, there was such an intense pain! Oh, darling, I'm afraid that I won't be any good to you. It wasn't like this with the others. I never felt so wild, so delirious. I've never wanted a man as badly as I want you yet ... "
He spoke softly, consoling her, reassuring her that it would be good for both of them. His own desires were so frantic and painful that he knew if he did not come to her immediately the final results of the act would be disastrous for them both.
"Please, sweetheart." He settled her against the soft cushions lining the couch, stroked her swollen breasts and closed the gap between their tensed bodies.
She did as he instructed, balancing her weight on her head, heels and shoulders and raised her fleshy thighs. "Oh, please dear heaven, let it be good. I want to be a woman!" She dug her fingers into his muscular arms and drew him to her. Hot, searing blood flooded her veins and her buttocks, almost as if they were a separate part of her, began to rotate ever so lazily. "Oh, darling!" She pulled him deep down into her warm, yielding flesh and locking her big-calved legs about his waist, soldered him to her with slow thrusts of her loins.
He carried her off at a cruelly rapid pace. Flinching from the punishment she murmured incoherently and increased the tempo of her revolving buttocks until the foaming tide of lust rose up in high waves to drown all pain. She had to close her eyes and bite down on her lower lip to prevent herself from screaming.
It went on and on and on. They broke and reformed, parted and came together again. Her breath was coming fast and she could feel his teeth nipping at her ears. She twisted her head from side to side and strained against him. Everything was losing substance, the lamps, the smashed tables, the mass of clothing bundled on a chair, everything was blending, forming a cloudy mass, and she was only aware of a burning sensation.
"Sweetheart, you're ... the best I've ever had ... you're teaching me things about a woman I've never known before."
"Oh, darling, it's an unbelievable joy with you. It's a miracle!" She tightened her grip on her lover in an effort to cling to reality. But it was sliding away from her, while the burning sensation intensified. She could endure it no longer and she released the pent-up screams, crying out for him to hold her, to please never let go.
His mouth roamed over her breasts, until his lips went dry and he felt weak and dizzy. Again his hands captured the flesh-packed globes, played with them, kneaded them, molded them. Desire clogged him and he strove for release. He was driven into a frenzy and he attacked her with a fury that was almost vicious.
"Oh, don't, don't! You're bringing on the pain again." She adjusted her rhythm to his, giving herself in a manner that was almost ruthless and beyond her imagination. She found herself floating, floating and she sobbed aloud as she realized she was near a fulfillment. "Oh, it's happening, it's happening for me again after all this time. Oh, darling, you're a miracle maker but please go more slowly, please!"
He ignored her request, and kept on, not once diminishing the rhythm of his strokes, deliberately hurting her, wishing he could drive himself farther into the shared passion. He could judge the depths of her feeling by the crisscrossed scrapings along his back. Her response was now as she approached her time as wild and hungry as a greedy animal's. Bending closer so. that his harsh breath played against her contorted face he rose and fell, punctuating her screaming with his maddening thrusts until they were both adrift and foundering on the churning seas of ecstasy.
"Oh, oh, oh!" She exerted ail of her strength to cling to him as he carried her off into some distant, previously unexplored world. She shuddered and everything went out of focus, spinning around and around.
Her renewed squirmings and her struggles seemed an almost desperate attempt to unseat him, but Alan held fast to her buttocks, forcing her to adjust to the tempo of his assault, making of her an eager participant in her own downfall. Now, she was returning his kisses fiercely, manipulating her big exploding cheeks expertly and releasing a coarse and cruel laugh that came from deep within her throat.
Soon, it was he, begging her for a slower rhythm, but something burst inside of Joyce and she urged him on, to give all he had. She braced herself, thrilling to the hammering, screaming her delight as he surged downward in brutal assault. She was unable to hold back now; she realized it was impossible to hold back.
"Now, Joyce, sweetheart, now, now!"
"Yes, my darling, now, now!" With a whine she wove her fingers into his dark hair, brought his head down and plunged her tongue between his parted lips. A flame of passion roaring with all the heat of an inferno convulsed her. "Oh ... oh, my ... I ... ah, ahhh!"
He cupped the ample, vibrant rounds of her backside and abandoned himself to the burning fires, gasping out his climax over and over as the strength drained out of him. He felt the strong arms tightened about his back, he felt the muscled rump stiffening under his palms and he heard her shrill scream.
Together they melted, letting go simultaneously of a rapture so exquisite, so keen, that only weariness could follow.
It was some time before they could regain control of their limbs. Joyce lay on her back, the great massive pillows of her breasts supporting Alan's head.
"You did it, you accomplished a miracle. I feel so completely alive that I wonder at the things I did with those boys and even with my girl friend, Donna."
"That was just an experiment," he murmured, "a lot of girls go through that phase." Slowly, tenderly, he stroked the high swell of her hip. "I only hope we'll always be good for each other and that I won't grow old too fast."
"Few men of your age possess your marvelous body. I'll be the one to worry about growing old. When I hit my thirties I'll be flabby. These things will droop."
"Not as long as I massage them." He raised his head and inserted his tongue in the deep cleft, licking away the faint trace of sweat deposited there.
"Oh, don't!"
"Why?"
"Don't unless you possess the strength. I don't want to be aroused then left high and dry."
"Did I leave you that way."
"No."
"Well."
"All right."
Quickly, yet methodically, as if the big golden body was merely instrumental to a work plan he altered her position, roughly wedged a cushion under her and forced her legs apart.
She jerkingly yielded her flesh to his mauling. Straining, squeezing, she coiled her legs in a lithe, serpentine pincer around his waist as he joined her.
"like that?"
"Yes, yes, oh, please, more of that." She screamed again because it was such a deluge of ecstasy. She exploded in a series of fits, her legs locked tight about him in complete captivity, her big cheeks rippling as the last vestige of lust was siphoned from her. She hear d his cry and her limbs contracted in a final spas m; her big cheeks shook for the last time. At length they parted and adopting a spoon-like position, slept.
9
Someone was pounding on the office door, practically tearing it off the hinges. "Hey, Bertini!"
Bertini, his hair a mass of glistening ringlets, his cheeks dusted with a fine powder and wearing a blue-black tuxedo, yelled, "I'm busy."
The pounding continued. Sighing wearily, he rose and opened the door. His bartender, thin as a pencil, stood there. "You gotta see this dame, boss. I'm telling you, you gotta see this girl!"
He followed the man's pointing finger to view a beautiful brunette sitting by herself at the bar. "You break in here just to tell me about some broad, Harvey?"
"Oh, yeah! Didn't you always tell me to tip you off when something real lovely strolls in? Take a real good look."
The roadhouse was filled with high-pitched screams. The musicians were swinging, knocking out a Bossa Nova as well and as professionally as any strong group in New York City could. The dance floor, every square inch of it, was packed with what appeared to be the happiest crowd of people going. A real wild evening. Things really happening. And the brunette just sat there, toying with a drink.
Bertini peered into the shadows, his attention called to the cleavage between her generous breasts. She turned once, her black hair falling rather lazily forward, her eyes partly closed.
"It's that dame, Jacqueline," he whispered as if in awe. "What a beautiful face she's got!" He knew she was in her late twenties but her body was ripe and richly curved, full and exuberant in its promise. He stood there, seeing how the swollen, eager rounds of her breasts merged into the soft dome of her stomach. If she would only stand up, he thought, I could see her hips and legs.
He tore open a fresh package of cigarettes, shoved one between his hard lips and lit it. He smoked slowly. A shriek rose; the crowd tonight was really cutting up. He threw his shoulders back, adjusted his tuxedo and ordered Harvey to return to his post.
The room was a fog of cigarette smoke, powder, perfume and liquor. Round and round danced mismatched couples. A sax man bathed by the glare of a bright yellow light stood in the center of the platform wrestling with his instrument, getting it to wail and moan. Behind him, the rest of the combo followed his rhythm; piano, bass fiddle, and trumpet, blending in skillfully, seducing the audience with melody.
Bertini followed the movements of the dancers, particularly the girls. Lots of young stuff here tonight, he thought, noting with avid excitement a glimpse of white thigh here, a fresh young pair of breasts there. Suddenly remembering Jacqueline he headed for the bar, only to find an empty stool and an unfinished drink.
"Gone to the John," Harvey told him.
"We've got business coming up, me and that broad. She's tied in with that bastard, Wallace Robbins."
"How about that." For some reason Harvey found that amusing. "And he owes you a wad of dough."
"After tonight he won't though."
"No, how come?"
"We made a little arrangement this afternoon. But he's not getting those shares back, the skunk. I wouldn't give that playboy the wrong time of day."
Jacqueline, her voluptuous body a taunt, came across the floor, weaving her way through the dancers, throwing her big hips exaggeratedly. Smug in the knowledge that all eyes were devouring her movements, proud that the knit suit accentuated her swollen breasts, she moved slowly, casually, as if out for a stroll in the park.
She slid on to the bar stool and in a somewhat loud voice ordered another martini.
"You haven't finished the one you got."
She shrugged. "Okay, skinny. I say this one's warm and dead in the glass. If you don't want to bring me a fresh one then I'll take my trade somewhere else."
By her side Bertini said, "don't horse around, Harvey. Do what the lady says." He leered at her. "I thought you wasn't going to show. How'd you get here, Wallace drive you?"
"Nope, I drove myself."
"In the Ferrari?"
"Well, not in a banana wagon."
"How about that!" He threw his head back and roared. "This dump, a stack of wood and bricks rotting on the country road-and it's owner'll be driving a Ferrari!"
"I know. The minute I stepped inside this establishment I figured you for a Volkswagen."
"I'm not kidding myself that this is high-class.
But," he winked, "once, back in the city, I really had me a club."
She snorted, aware that he was conning her. "Then, you should have stayed there."
He had no answer to that one. He looked at her, looked at the kid sitting on the stool next to her. The kid, he thought, felt he was killing the mob with his greased pompadour, forty-nine dollar continental suit and bargain specialty necktie. He was drinking beer and from the proximity of his stool obviously out to score with Jacqueline.
A fresh martini was placed before her. "Here you are lady,, made with my own two hands."
Bertini indicated the kids. "How's this punk here doing?'
"Two beers in two hours."
"Is that a fact." He nudged the boy. "Drink up and buzz off, sonny."
The lad, pimply-faced and narrow-eyed, hardly more than twenty whined, "What thehell'reyoutalkin' about, mister?"
"I'm saying I need your stool and if you want to nurse beers then head for one of the dives in town."
"Okay, so I'll order another one."
His hand snaked into the kid's jacket and buttons flew off. "I said bug out. The night's over for you."
The boy dropped off the stool and his jacket hung open. His once-carefully knotted tie was loose. "My dough's as good as anybody else's." Seeing the look in the older man's eyes he backed off, heading for the door, pausing to gather a bit of bravado and yell, "you no good bastard! I heard the line you were handin' that dame. New York night club, hah!"
Bertini doubled his fists and started forward. The kid opened the door and ran out.
"I thought this sort of thing went out of style with the old gangster movies," laughed Jacqueline.
Bertini wiped his dry mouth with his palm. Some of the mirth reentered his eyes as he slid on to the vacant stool. Those young punks will cause me to lose my license yet. Imagine that, done up in those Sunday duds and trying to impress you."
She looked at him with a haughty expression. "And exactly what're you trying to do?"
"You bring the registration papers?"
"Have you got the money?'
"I guess we're all set then."
She looked at him, cataloging him as nothing more than a flashy operator out to make time. Well, she considered, it might be amusing to watch him strain himself. Who knows, he might possibly come up with a new line. She raised her glass and downed the contents.
"You ought to watch it, baby, those things are dynamite."
"Oh, you're looking out for my welfare now?" Her mind was functioning clearly but her speech had become slightly slurred. "Hey, skinny, the same again."
"Coming up."
Bertini sized her up, knowing from his experience that another Martini could knock her out. "You know, I can generally hold my booze, but cocktails, specially the kind Harvey here makes, have me under the table in no time."-
She looked him straight in the eye. "How do you know I'm not looking to get blotto. Huh? How do you know that?'
"Don't get belligerent, baby; I'm here to help you. Maybe you got troubles and you're out to drown them in a hurry."
"Correct. Ab-so-lutely correct."
He examined her swiftly, seeing the copious breasts thrust forward, the haughty abundance of her rump atop the bar stool. "What's your line of work, honey?'
"I'm a librarian."
"I took you for a girl in show business, a singer for instance," he said, summoning all the sincerity he could.
"Singer!" She drained her glass. "Boy, you don't think much of me. Listen here, I am telling you that I was a triple-threat girl back in my home town. Singer, dancer, actress. I could have filled any role. Now look at me," She threw her hands and eyes toward the ceiling. "A librarian, yet!"
"Look," his breath played against her warm, perspiring face. "Call this fate or whatever you want to but I need a girl like you here." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the bandstand. "That combo there is the hottest thing around. Some real strong men ... able to back up any dame with a good voice."
"I came out here to collect Wallace's money and turn the car over to you." She turned blurry eyes upon him. "You going to hire me as a singer?"
"Why not? I can give you an audition. Damn, this is my lucky night."
"Oh, cut the crap out, will you? This is me you're talking to." She hiccupped. "I been in the big time and seen too much to fall for your line."
He looked crestfallen. "Sincere for the first time in my life and I ... "
"You know ... you're a crook, Wallace said so ... and I just don't ... trust you." Her eyes spun and she clutched her stomach. "Oh, oh, little Jacqueline's had it. Yes, siree." She wobbled on the stool, her dress hiking up over her thighs. "Maybe,, you better hand over his money then whistle for a cab to take me ... back to the ... city."
Bertini took the keys and automobile papers from her. "He signed them. Good, good." He shouted at Harvey. "Hey, there's a Ferrari out front I just bought. Drag it up to the door, will you?"
"I can't leave the bar, boss."
"Move! I'll watch the bar." He clapped his hands to the girl's shoulders. "Now just take it easy, honey. Everything's going to turn out just fine."
She hiccupped again. "Think I don't know what you're up to. You just want to get me in bed."
"Oh, no, no." One of his hands slid down her shoulder to linger at the base of her breasts.
"You don't?"
"Not at all,"
She thought for a moment, her mind so clear only moments before was now confused. "Well ... why the hell not? I'm good enough, aren't I? I got one of the best stacked bodies you'll ever see. Men, and women, too, go wild over me."
"The best I've seen."
Harvey put in an appearance. "That's some low-slung number, boss. That must have set you back a mint."
"Yeah, yeah. Now give me a hand with our new star attraction here."
The two men half-dragged, half-carried the limp and unresisting girl out to the red Ferrari convertible.
"This dame weighs a ton." Bertini grunted. He managed after a lot of effort to arrange Jacqueline in the front seat.
"Solid," muttered the other man. "Real solid. You're going to have yourself a time with this broad."
"Okay. You take care of things until closing time and then lock up carefully."
A half-hour later the Ferrari eased to a stop on the edge of the East River, directly across the way from Manhattan. Jacqueline sat with her head against the back of the seat, her legs spread wide apart and her skirt tight across her hard-fleshed thighs. The radio was playing, and she was moaning that she wanted another drink but the lousy curly-haired sport was just sitting there, eyeing her body.
"You gonna get me 'nother martini or not, fella?"
Bertini leaned on the steering wheel. "I can't cart you up to my pad 'cause my wife's there. Listen, sweetheart, where do you live?"
She told him, her head rolling from side to side, her long hair leaping up and down. "No good, though, my girl friend might be there."
"So I'll take her on too." He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to her throat, cheek and finally, her lips. She recoiled and pushed him off.
"Ugh! I can't stand kissing a man who hasn't any lips. Ohh," she shivered. "Makes me feel like climbing into a tub and getting all clean again."
He lit a cigarette and expelled smoke through his slitted nostrils slowly, dramatically. They were in a secluded spot, a perfect place for lovemaking. It was going to be sheer pleasure having those long gams wrapped around him and that beefy rear end of hers bouncing under him like mad.
The roar of another automobile somewhere in the near distance jerked him up. He glanced out the window seeing nothing but the trees and the fields. He settled down again and offered her a drag on the cigarette.
"No, I tell you I wanna martini."
"You and your stinking martinis." He flicked the butt away and grabbed her. He shot his tongue between her parted lips, encircled her waist with one arm while his free hand searched for and found the zipper.
She was too drunk to fight him off, and before she knew what was happening he had her shoulders and breasts bared. She closed her eyes and feU against him as cold air rushed into the car.
His searching hands found the quivering wealth of her breasts and she released a cry that was wild, untamed. The powerful muscles of her thighs and buttocks tensed as she attempted to lock her legs, but the crests of her breasts were already hard and she could no longer resist.
Again, he lowered his head to kiss her full, pulsing mouth. She moaned, caught her breath and kissed him back hungrily, passionately.
"Hey, in there!"
"Hey, in there!"
Light flooded the Ferrari, blinding them with its brightness. Bertini threw up a hand to ward off the brilliance. He tried to see and could not and the next thing he knew the door was open and a cop had his hands on him.
The policeman was huge, red-faced and menacing. "Bertini! Well, I'll be damned!"
"Take your hands off me."
The cop snickered, looked over at his partner who was on the other side of the car eyeing Jacqueline with undisguised disgust, and slapped Bertini, back and forth, again and again. Bertini's head began to ring from the blows. When his eyes swam in tears and blood seeped out of the corners of his mouth he pleaded with the officer to stop.
"Let it be a lesson to you. We don't allow high-school kids to do this here so damned if we'll allow a punk roadhouse operator like you to get away with it. One day we're going to raid your place, punk. We're going to smash it up, turn it into kindling."
"It's legitimate," he panted, "you can't browbeat me."
"Cheap booze, a little prostitution on the side and maybe a little dope. And where'd you get this foreign car from? Kind of expensive for a mug like you, isn't it? Come on, let's see the papers."
He handed over the registration. "You're talking tough 'cause you got that uniform on." He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief.
"Oh, dry up. You're not impressing anyone, not even that tramp in there." The papers were examined under the headlights. "Hey, this isn't your wagon."
"It is. This young lady just delivered it out to my place a while ago. I was testing it out. What'd you expect me to do, register it when the license bureau was closed?"
"Hey," Jacqueline said suddenly. "You forgot to give me the two thousand dollars. You still have to give me two thousand dollars before !" turn this car over to you."
"Shut up!"
"Get out of there, Bertini," The officer returned the registration to Jacqueline, "Are you in fit condition to drive?"
Her brain, while muddled with drink was still clear enough to grasp the situation, "I ... think so."
"Think so! What're you anyway, a decent girl or a tramp, attempting to have intercourse in a public area with this scum? Well, you know what we're going to do? We're escorting you across the bridge right into Manhattan to the home of this Ferrari owner, Mr. Wallace Robbins. Then, we'll get the full story."
"No, no, please."
"If this car's stolen, you're going to get the full treatment, the both of you. Okay, punk, get into the police car next to my partner."
Bertini's mouth twisted; his voice shrill with bitterness. "You dumb broad, this is all your rotten fault."
"Pipe down, punk."
It was a nightmare to Jacqueline and she started to cry, regretting ever having gotten mixed up with Wallace. She had lost her virginity, entered intoa Lesbian affair with Allison and now the law was treating her like a common prostitute. It was too much to bear in less than twenty-four hours.
The big cop eased his bulk into the Ferrari. "Right, sister, start her up and let's take this expensive heap nice and easy across the bridge."
A moan escaped her lips. In her eyes was the look of a whipped dog. "Believe me, officer, I'm a good girl."
"Oh, sure you are!"
10
"Yes, officer, i did instruct this young lady to deliver my car to Mr. Bertini. But it was just a loan, not an outright gift." Wallace, dressed in a lounging robe and slippers stood in the doorway of his duplex explaining the situation to the policemen. "I was considering selling the Ferrari in exchange for a ... ah ... sum of money."
Bertini, flanked by the two policemen snarled. Jacqueline had seized the advantage to slip inside, beyond his reach and he cursed his ill luck. "You know that I said you'd get that dough, later."
"I don't sell cars on promises, Bertini. Goodnight. And thank you, gentlemen, too. I can understand your apprehension. After all, it must have seemed rather strange to you both, but I trust my explanations have cleared up the situation." He closed the door and faced Jacqueline. "What the hell were you trying to do?"
She tried to piece her clothing together. "He tried to attack me. He was just full of lies and had no intention of giving me two thousand dollars. When you practically ordered me earlier this evening to drive the car out to his road house I begged you to come along. Do you know how humiliating it all was?"
"I know how humiliating it is for me now. The doorman will spread this throughout the entire building. I don't live in a damned tenement like you; this is an upper-class dwelling. I'm certain people congregating in the lobby saw the parade. You, half nude, that filthy gangster and two policemen."
"It was all done for your benefit. You could show me a little kindness."
"Oh, shut up!" He bit his knuckle, annoyed, having counted on the two thousand dollars to pay for his trip. "He still has those blasted shares and it'll take days for me to sell the Ferrari. Days? Hah! It'll take weeks. No one has ten thousand dollars to spend for a used car. Now Vicki and that board of directors will be down on me."
"But the shares were yours to give away or sell as you wished, weren't they?"
. "You stupid woman! I sold my shares a long time ago. The shares that crooked rat Bertini was given to cover my gambling debts are false, Do you understand what I'm saying? What Bertini has are all ersatz, fake, counterfeit. I could be sent to prison for printing false shares if he decides to drop in on the board and wave them around, demanding a seat and a profit in the factory."
"Wow!" Jacqueline sat down rather heavily in an armchair, "You are in trouble." She looked around, open-mouthed, realizing she was sitting in the very room in which she had been seduced last night. "All this, they're just props. I probably have more in my savings account than you do. And I thought it was all paradise," she whispered, "giving myself to a man of your social standing. You seemed so worldly; I always thought Alan's attempts to seduce me lacked sophistication."
"Shut up! You're a tramp, a small-time librarian and you reek of liquor."
"And you're a short ass, shorter than me and running to fat, To think I left a man like Alan for you. No wonder your wife treats you with such disrespect." She shoved her hair back and reached for the telephone.
"What the hell're you doing?"
"I'm calling for someone to come and get me. Did you see the way Bertini snarled? He's furious, and once he rids himself of those policemen I don't want him waiting in the streets for me."
"Well, make it snappy. I've got company coming." He flipped back the top of a lacquered box and selected a gold-tipped cigarette. He lit it with a huge lighter, also of gold. "Another thing, forget those cracks about my height, see."
"I'll make cracks about your virility, too." She was dialing furiously. "Last night you were a bull, but out at the fleabag of a motel you were nothing but a lamb, You can only sleep with a woman once, can't you? The second time's too difficult because of some quirk in your personality. You were married twice, why did both wives leave you? I'll bet they cheated on you, too. And why haven't you got a steady girl now, a man about town like you?"
"I'm warning you." He advanced on her with his fists clenched. "I had to tan your fat rear the other night or have you forgotten? I'll gladly do it again in such a way you'll never forget it."
Jacqueline was speaking into the phone. "Hello?" A frown appeared on her forehead. "Who is this? Isn't this Alan Graham's residence?" She half-rose from the armchair, surprised at the female's voice. After a second Alan came on. "Well, well, you didn't waste any time finding someone to take my place after that little spat we had last night. No, never mind the explanations, I'll hear them later. Listen, I need your help and I'd like you to get over here as soon as possible."
He asked her where she was and she took a deep breath before replying, "At Wallace Robbins' apartment. Please don't ask any questions now, darling, I'll explain all later." She repeated the address several times and hung up, Her hands were damp and trembling as she wiped them along the length of her full thighs, Wallace smirked. "You think that bastard'll take you back after this? In his boots I wouldn't go across the street for you much less come here,"
She paced up and down the room, biting her lips and wringing her hands. "He'll understand, he's a very forgiving person, When a man asks you to marry him it's because he wants you forever."
"He wanted to marry a virgin, not a damaged woman. You're soiled goods, girlie, Anyway, hasn't he got some other girl over there? It didn't take him long to find a replacement,"
"This was all your fault, phoning me every minute, hounding me to death, whispering your dirty little sweet nothings into my ear. I was perfectly content with Alan."
"Crap! Why'd you rush over here, then? Why'd you give yourself so eagerly after holding him off for so many months? Another thing, you're not so hot in bed, fatso."
She whirled upon him. "You shrimp! You've got some rotten nerve! You're a fairy, that's what you are, a lousy queer with a Don Juan complex who has to sleep with every woman he meets to prove he's not homo." Her hands shredded her garments and her ample breasts responded, quivering to be liberated, pouring over the top of her brassiere. "Men drool over these. They'd love to spend a lifetime fondling them. You only wanted to paw them up once or twice and then you were satisfied. What do you do, keep a record in a little black book?"
"You stink!" He fanned the front of his face and took a deep drag on his cigarette. "Even from where I stand I can smell the liquor on your breath."
"I should have cracked up that Ferrari." She lurched toward the bathroom. "I'm getting cleaned up. If Alan comes while I'm away just tell him to wait."
"That isn't all I'll tell him."
Her eyes blazed. "You do, you lousy faggot, and so help me, I'll kill you."
"I'll make the rules in my house, not you. Don't tell me what I can or can not say."
Her great spherical breasts heaved along with the rippling flesh on. her belly as she gathered up the words to hurl at him. "You say a word to Alan, just one single word and I'll not only notify your wife and that factory board about the false shares but I'll tip Bertini off, too. He'll have your shrimpy carcass encased in a tub of cement and lowered into the East River."
Wallace went pale. He bit down hard on his lower lip, unmindful of the pain-then waited until he heard the shower running before he went after his whip.-
The police had escorted Bertini back to Long Island City and dumped him rather unceremoniously on the streets. He waited until the squad car pulled away from the curb then raced over to a parked taxi. He ordered the driver to take him to Manhattan. Settling himself in the seat he pounded his fist into his palm, swearing that he was going to get even with both that tramp and Robbins.
When the cab pulled up before the swank apartment building, Bertini checked the streets, almost deserted at this hour of evening on a weekday night. He shoved a couple of bills at the driver and hurried into the servant's entrance. In the basement he raced past rows of empty washing machines to the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor.
Good, he smiled to himself. Wallace lived high up. That meant no one would hear the screams.
When the elevator door eased open he slipped out, padded down the hall and posted himself before the apartment. He tugged a square of hard celluloid from his billfold, a sharp penknife from his key chain and began to work on the lock. In a few seconds at the most, he estimated, he would be inside, surprising, them both with his sudden appearance, After several minutes passed he found himself doused in sweat. Damn it, what kind of a lock did the bastard have here, a mortise! He gritted his teeth and shaved the edge of the celluloid, reducing its width to a razor-sharp thinness. Nervously, he glanced at the elevator hoping that the tenants on the other side of the floor wouldn't suddenly pop out. That's all he needed, to be arrested for attempted breaking and entry.
It would have been easier, he knew, to just ring the bell and punch the playboy on the nose when he appeared but that would have been too simple. No, he wanted to catch him with his pants down, in the sack with that big-breasted drunk, Alan smelled the mingled scent of Joyce's perspiration and perfume, She crawled next to him and slipped a warm arm around his neck. His hands found her large, solid breasts. He massaged them gently and she pressed her belly and thighs against his with all of her strength.
"Don't go to her, darling. She's a bitch. That man, that rich fellow has been having her from last night until now. You told me yourself what her friend, that slim girl you shacked up with this afternoon said."
"I know, but maybe she's in some sort of trouble,"
"I can imagine what kind. She's worn him out and now she's ready to take you on. Well, you're mine now," She stroked him, arousing him, the very strength of him assailing her senses so that she began to breathe heavily and arch against him spasmodically. "I'm going to wear you out now."
"No, sweetheart, not now." He released her breasts but she had fitted herself along the length of him and held him so tightly in the vise of her young, hard-muscles thighs that he was unable to break free.
"Yes, yes, now!"
At first he struggled with her but then his senses left him. He clutched her warm buttocks and pulled her so viciously against him that she cried out in agony.
"Oh, you're hurting me!"
"You asked for it." He buried himself in her smooth, hard flesh and then began the first movements of love.
It was furious and it was violent, and as their strength ebbed their passion mounted. Even when they were cramped and all reasoning left them they continued striving toward the wildly relieving sensation.
The beat became more rhythmical and their bodies recoiled and closed, hearts hammering together. He was giddy and weak: he felt like a child in the clutch of this overwrought, lusting girl. He jerked his hands from under her convulsing buttocks to grip her breasts. They seemed at this mad moment unusually immense, even more swollen than before, and in the ludicrous second while he considered their size he was shaken by a spasm. Her hot mouth was on his neck, her kisses turned into savage bites and her fingernails clawed his back.
The room was filled with their cries.
Later, he left her and donned his clothing with a swiftness that was admirable considering the sexual bout he had just taken part in.
She lounged on the couch, scowling. "Please don't go to her, darling. Didn't I satisfy you?"
"Sweetheart, I've bedded down with the best, and you make them all seem like rank amateurs. This has nothing to do with you; believe me when I say that. This is unfinished business. Jacqueline made a sap out of me and I just want to hear what sort of lies she'll come up with. Besides, I've never had the pleasure of meeting Wallace Robbins."
She rose and reached for her beige jacket and navy slacks. The smell of her was on him and at the sight of her massive, bouncing globes something wild and delirious welled up in him. He had to turn away.
"If you want to, you can come with me."
"You're damned right I'm coming. No woman's going to get her hooks into you now."
11
"No, Wallace, no, no.
Please, darling, I didn't mean what I said." Jacqueline screamed as his hand curled around the strap of her brassiere and yanked. The epic-sized breasts sprang free, opulent, thick-nippled and resilient.
"You no-good bitch. So you'd squeal to the board and to Bertini, would you?" He uncoiled the whip that had already once been used to beat her into submission.
"No, no, I was just bluffing." She backed against a cold wash basin, recoiled and dodged to another corner of the bathroom. The shower she planned to take was running full force. She had stripped off her ruined clothing and had been on the verge of removing her brassiere when he burst in brandishing the whip.
"And you called me a faggot, too!"
"I didn't mean it. You truly conquered me in bed, darling. You satisfied me like a true man. I was only fooling with you because I was so upset." She offered him her mouth and planted a burning and passionate kiss on his lips hoping for a reprieve.
He tasted her darting tongue but at the same time kept rubbing the whip against her Ml-blown buttocks. She worked at the belt binding his robe and once it was loose, swept it apart and pasted her nakedness against him. He gasped from the heated friction of her loins, thinking she learned tricks rapidly.
He freed his mouth and ducked his head as the tip of her tongue lashed the inside of his ear. "You're pretty smart, aren't you? Last night you were so innocent but now you're full of experience."
She grasped his hand and shoved it between' her heavy-fleshed thighs and twisted her hips from side to side, desperately fighting to regain lost breath because time was running out on her.
"You don't want to hurt me, darling, you know you don't. No woman has my figure, you know how you admire me. Look," she arched her back, increasing the prominence of her globes. "Look at them, so big, so warm, so eager for your touch."
He hesitated, and she quickly pillowed his face in the up-thrust cushions, bidding him to taste the sweet flesh. His reaction was slow but eventually he hardened his tongue to a point and jabbed at the erect nipples.
'They are the biggest I've ever played with."
"Oh, yes, darling, I know, I know. Let's get into bed right now, I want to feel you sure and strong, taking me like a man takes the woman he loves." She was fighting for time now, hoping the lush melons had him entrapped. "What bilge you talk," He pushed her with such a force that she toppled into the bathtub. She lay there, surprised while the shower beat down upon her,As he raised the whip, she leaped up agilely and shot past him, her body and hair soaking wet, and fled into the bedroom.
He ran after her, lashing out and missing so that within seconds he was enraged. "Stand still and take it, you bitch!"
She leaped across the bed like a gazelle and tried to reach the door and the safety of the living room. But, he darted before her and the whip sliced viciously into the rosy and flawlessly matched spheres of her breasts.
"Ah hah! Something I didn't notice before. You've been in a battle," He drew the whip in. "I didn't put those marks on you last night, And when I banged you at the cruddy motel you didn't have them. What the hell were you involved in during the afternoon when I dropped you off at your place to get dressed?"
"Ow!" She screamed as he struck her on the tender thighs still red from the whipping administered earlier by Allison. She tried to dodge behind an armchair but he had the range and caught her at every turn, planting the whip with startling accuracy across her jiggling breasts and buttocks, "Don't tell me it hurts!" Wallace planted his feet apart and flicked out at her, rejoicing as the tongue of the whip landed on each target he chose, the knees, the hips, the rump, the belly and most of all, the big breasts, which he could not miss. They were so large and so glossy white, he took a delight in marring them.
"Stop, stop, you'll kill me, please stop." She fell to the floor and lay there, spread-eagled, too weak to resist the lash. "You'll., .kill me!"
"Wrong. Now I'll prove to you I'm not a fairy as you claim." He peeled off his robe, threw it aside and still brandishing the whip knelt between her outstretched thighs.
Jacqueline's eyes were closed and she lay as if dead, unable to respond even as he took her and threw himself into an incessant rhythm. She couldn't believe all that was happening to her although a warning kept sounding in her brain: do not resist and perhaps you will be able to walk out of here. She smelled the sweat of his body and the staleness of his breath, and suddenly she was crushed beneath his weight. "Don't," she screamed. Her flesh was being lacerated. "Oh, don't hurt me!"
Then, suddenly the weight was removed and she was free, Wallace reared up like a stallion and rolled over out cold.
A smiling Bertini stood there, looking down at the fallen man. He held a copper lamp in his hand, the base of which was smeared with blood. "Looks like I got here right in the nick of time."
"How ... how did you ... "
"Get in? I'm a housebreaker from way back." He prodded Wallace with his toe, drew back his foot and kicked the unconscious man in the head. "Banging away at you while he had a whip in his hand. I always thought there was something queer about this nut."
She drew up her hurting legs and stared at him. "I didn't want to trick you, Bertini, I had no idea what he was up to. I've known him for a while but I only dated him last night."
"And he took you on the first date, eh? This is the second time I've seen you in the altogether. And in less than a day, too. First out at the motel then now here. Well, we're going to finish right now what we attempted in that Ferrari."
"No, no!"
"Yes, baby, yes, yes."
"I'm all bloody and bruised," she pleaded. "I've gone through too much today, please, Bertini, I'll give myself to you eventually. I promise."
"Eventually! What kind of a sap do you think I am? This character cheats me, the cops beat hell out of me, and now you expect me to be taken in by your promises. I take while the taking is good. Now, baby, now I'm collecting what I should have in the car."
She flattened her hands on the wall and crawled to her knees and then to an upright position. "It'll be no good for you; I'll hold myself back."
He looked at the stunning line of her long thighs. The bright ceiling lights reflecting in the sheen of her wet body heightened the effect of her buttocks. "That butt of yours is so large it's a real wonder you don't split your panties. You are certainly one well-equipped broad, baby."
She backed away from him, her full globular breasts blemished with red streaks, springing with each step. The whip was only a few inches away and she wondered if she could reach it before he attacked her. "You could be sent to prison for many years. I'll lodge a charge of rape against you."
"You'd have to charge your boy friend here, too. And assault would have to be added to the complaint you file against him." He looked at her wide, womanly rump. "What a fantastic seat you've got!" He passed a hand over her bottom and stroked it gently.
Her thighs twisted beyond his reach. "So help me, I'll see you in prison."
"Maybe." His tongue shot out and licked his dry lips. "We're going to ball, baby, right now,"
She backed out into the adjoining room, now darkened, and inched her way up the short flight of stairs to the second floor used as a study. He followed her, padding up like an animal, his breath coming fast.
At the top of the stairs Bertini caught her, His mouth hung open and his tongue flicked out dog-like, to lick her plump arms, Jacqueline sagged against him, unresisting. Then, his fingers dug into her breasts and she reacted violently, She forced both hands under his chin and pushed. He shot upwards like a rocket and landed on his rear with such force that pictures on the wall rattled. He blinked his eyes and crawled to his feet. "Strong, A real strong chick, but there's no stopping me when I've got ideas,"
As he crept into range she paused, gathered her courage, spread her hefty legs apart and back-handed him viciously across his cheek, It was a good blow, carrying all of her weight, and he reeled away like a drunk, He fell against a table and bottles resting there toppled to the floor. He shook his head, steadied himself and came on again, She snatched up a bottle of wine, held it aloft and threw it at him. He barely had to move his head and it sailed by, smashing against a wall. He looked briefly at the unsightly, spreading stain, "You missed," he laughed.
Jacqueline was breathing heavily. Where, oh, where was Alan? Maybe she could skim past this bastard back down into the bedroom and lock the door, Wild-eyed, she doubled her fists and churned her legs into a sprint, She was quick, and she almost made it, but Bertini was quicker, He leaped over the banister, threw himself into her path and blocked her. The impact when their bodies met slammed her half-across the room. She landed flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her, He grinned, wiped his damp palms on his dusty tuxedo and sauntered toward her, moving as if he had all the time in the world.
She was just rising when his fist caught her on the side of the jaw. Her head snapped back, the long mane of dark hair flying out and for a second she looked completely surprised. Then she fell slowly to a sitting position and rolled over on her back.
It was several minutes before she came to. Dazedly, she raised her head and tried to focus on him as he removed his clothing. As he loomed closer she tried to speak but the words were stuck in her throat. He was swifter than a snake and before she knew it he had straddled her. Her arm failed up in an arc. Her palm smashed into his cheek. His head rocked and tears rolled out of his eyes. He blinked them away and his wiry fingers encircled her wrists.
"I didn't think you had much fight left in you. Just goes to show, you're all woman!"
"After this ... I'll kill you ... even if I have to hire someone to do the job."
"Killing comes high these days, baby. You'll never raise the dough working as a librarian. You'd have to get out on the streets and hustle like crazy to raise the fee."
She cursed and struggled to break free but somehow he was able to insinuate himself between her thighs while holding fast to her threshing body. Once, she was able to arch her back, carrying him up with her. Exhausted, she fell back, ceasing the struggle. Gradually her efforts died and he released her hands. His fingers were like hairy spiders, roaming all over her sweating body. His mouth, hot and wet, followed his hands, up and down her thighs, legs, hips, belly and breasts.
At first, she was still and unyielding; she cursed him. Then, despite her hatred her hips began to respond. They undulated rhythmically beneath his slender body and she sobbed miserably because he had reached her. He had touched the proper chords and to make things easier for herself she imagined that she was giving herself to Alan. Yes, it was Alan holding her, Alan taking her. Her big, voluptuous body threshed beneath his. Then the bell buzzed and she suddenly realized it was from the lobby. The doorman was announcing visitors. Her eyes opened and the leering, hot-eyed face of Bertini nauseated her.
"Alan," she screamed, "Alan, Alan!"
He was rigid, unmoving, his position forcing her to maintain the contact. She gasped as he fondled the up-thrust melons intimately, his teeth scraped their bruised and tender flesh.
"Move you witch! Move, move, act like you're enjoying it."
She scraped his body with her fingernails as he went into a speedy motion that had her body bucking like a wild horse's. He whined as the fabulous moment of excitement came within his reach and eager to hasten his finish she gripped him with her hard thighs and rotated the bleeding cheeks of her powerful rump in a white-hot frenzy. He increased his hammering, his hands feverishly clutching the pneumatic breasts. The shadow of a man rippled over him but he didn't care. He had her now, he had her whimpering and rearing up as he plunged down.
He reached his peak just as the self-service elevator noisily reached the floor. Damn it, it's Wallace, he must have sent for help! Bertini sensed he was trapped, trapped between the thighs of this curvaceous animal and trapped by the law. But, he couldn't stop his rhythm. He didn't want to stop!
At last, drained to the core he rose and found himself looking into the muzzle of an automatic held by Wallace. The latter was snarling, his lips drawn back over his teeth.
"The last piece you'll have on earth."
"No, no." He raised his hands high even as Jacqueline rose to her feet. She pummeled his back and shoulders with her fists but he was more concerned with the man threatening him with the gun. "Listen, Wallace, footsteps. People are coming. There'll be witnesses to this murder."
"Kill him, Wallace," she screamed, "pull the trigger. Wipe him out!" She swung her fist downward, aiming for her attacker's groin. As Bertini crumpled, releasing a high-pitched womanly yell it was matched almost simultaneously by a scream coming from the blonde girl standing on the threshold of the open front door with Alan.
"What the hell's going on here?"
Jacqueline threw her naked body into his arms. "Oh, Alan, my darling! They both attacked me!"
"Looks like you might've been holding your own," Alan muttered, eyeing the two men, his rage rising.
"Oh, Alan," Jacqueline gasped against him, smearing a little blood on his shirt, "you don't know what its been like, what animals those two are, the things they did to me." , "I can imagine, sweetheart," Alan gritted, "and I'm going to take care of them in a minute, but could you stand away a little? You're ruining my shirt."
"Get them, Alan. Fix them," she screeched, her eyes alive with hate.
12
Wallace leaned on the window of the Porsche and looked at the three people squeezed into the front seat. He was in a battered state but he managed a smile. "I've had all the brawls and scandal that I want for one day, so if you people will excuse me. I'll get back upstairs. I've got to flee this town." He spoke to Jacqueline who was wearing a raincoat she had taken from him. "One of these days I'll tell people about this but I don't think anyone will believe me."
"Get away from me!" She spoke with her chin held high, her eyes front.
Bertini was staggering down the street. His hastily donned tuxedo was filthy, his shirt collar torn and his face bloody.
The four people watched him lurch, blend in with the gloomy shadows of the night and eventually disappear from sight.
"He got off easy," said Alan. "And so did you, Wallace. But if you ever interfere with Jacqueline again I'll tip the police off to the fact that you threatened to kill a man."
"Fear not. The young lady is once again your sole responsibility. Ask her, go ahead. She'd rather be dead than grace my premises again."
Alan switched on the ignition. The Porsche zoomed off, stopped briefly at the corner and turned left, heading for Park Avenue. There were a few faint stars in the sky but the wide street was as empty and as black as the woods at midnight. He felt Jacqueline's breast rubbing against his arm as he shifted, trying to get some speed out of the old sports car.
"I'm dropping you home."
"No, there're things we've got to discuss."
Joyce, seated on the far side of the passenger seat snorted. "Then tell them now, lady. And let's hope they're wildly interesting because you'll never be alone with Alan again."
"What I've to say are for his ears only," Jacqueline was more than a little surprised by Joyce's appearance. The tall blonde girl, she thought, was stunningly beautiful. Worse, her figure was awesomely constructed, her breasts monstrous under the beige jacket. It wasn't difficult to understand why Alan switched his affections so easily.
"What about it, Alan? Are you going to listen to what this woman has to say ? She slept with two men up in that duplex. Her. This tart who was supposed to be engaged to you."
"Well, I guess I'll hear what she has to say."
The Porsche stopped for a red light. "See you later then." Joyce twisted the door handle, slipped out and ran down the street. Alan stared after her in surprise then he shifted into first gear and drove off.
A few minutes later the two people entered the dark apartment. Allison wasn't home but traces of her perfume lingered In the air. Jacqueline flicked on a wall light and opened the two front windows.
"I'll be with you in a minute. I've got to get cleaned up." She tore off the raincoat and walked naked before him. Their eyes met briefly and he was the first to lower his gaze. He moved about the apartment, remembering that only this morning he had made love here with another woman.
He went into the kitchen, pulled a tray of ice cubes out of the Frigidaire and hurriedly mixed himself a Scotch and water. He had just put the glass to his lips when he heard his name called. In the bedroom Jacqueline awaited him. He stared at her.
In the yellow light coming from a shaded lamp her rich, curving body gleamed as if waxed, and her wide blue eyes had bright flecks in them. He studied her for a few seconds with complete detachment, thinking that she was strikingly beautiful.
"I suppose you'll be wanting this back." In her outstretched hand was the diamond ring he had given her so long ago.
"I'm a little short on cash now and I could use the money I'll get for it."
"You should give me another chance."
He shook his head. "One is all you'll get from me and you used it up. I might have taken you back if you'd had the sense to contact me this morning and explain about last night."
"It's not going to work between you and that kid, you know. I'd like to hold on to this because while you'll find her refreshing now, within a few weeks you'll yearn for a woman closer to your age."
"When an engagement is broken it's customary to return the ring. Now hand it over." He reached for it and suddenly they were locked together, fighting over the ring. He slid behind her, clawing at her outstretched arm and managed to grip her wrist and pump her arm up and down. The ring bounced on the floor and they both dived for it.
The past twenty-four hours had been too much for them and they fought, rolling over the floor in a state of exhaustion. Somehow they ended up with her lying flat and him stretched out atop her. He was held tight in her grasp, his chest crushing the wealth of her resilient breasts.
"Seems I have a knack for ending up in this position," she giggled, "but I'm beginning to feel at home this way."
He attempted to move and was unable to. She was surprisingly strong. "All right, the horsing around is all over. Let me up."
"You're a great one to talk about love. If you loved me you'd allow me a few mistakes."
"Mistakes! Your virginity belonged to me, not to that slimy Wallace. If you hadn't made such a production out of it maybe I wouldn't be so bitter now. But that's what hurts. You gave him what you should have given me."
"I'm giving myself to you now, darling."
A warmth rose from her tossing breasts. As she shifted her buttocks and worked her heavy thighs along his, her freshly cleansed body released an intoxicating scent. Immediately, he was inflamed. Aware that he was aroused she planted her feet firmly and arched her back. Her hand was flattened across his shoulders and her free hand fumbled for the zipper of his trousers to free him.
"Let me go." She gripped him so that he felt weak and as he looked into her bright eyes he saw triumph glinting there.
"You're ready for me because you desire me, darling. Oh, we've been so stupid. Let's erase our mistakes now."
Her mature breasts stood out like polished globes from her silken-smooth, tensed body. He stared at her full, parted mouth, and the passion mounted within him. "I've got a girl waiting for me.
Her big body twisted sensuously and for moments there was the heavy sound of their breathing. "She's a kid, unable to do the things I can. Oh, darling, I've learned how to satisfy a man."
It was the wrong thing to say! He was churned up, ready to slake his desire, but he remembered her condemnation of his career and her constant protests of innocence when he sought to hold her as he did now. He recalled with a spurt of shame that she had walked out of his apartment to give herself minutes later to another man.
"Release me this instant or I'll smash your dirty, double-crossing face in."
His expression matched his words and she knew he hated her. Her big legs relaxed and he rose to stand on shaking legs. He found his drink, swallowed it in a gulp and left. The door slammed hard.
When he got home the place was in darkness and the radio playing softly. He peered through the shadows and made out the Ml outline of Joyce's body. She was already in bed, curled up on one side.
"Hey, are you sleeping?"
The lamp was suddenly switched on and with a start he realized that she was completely nude, her voluminous breasts thrusting straight out over the side of the couch.
"Well, how were the explanations?"
"There weren't any." He shucked his clothing. "She gave me a lot of bilge about recapturing the past and forgetting about mistakes and that jazz."
"Did you go for it?"
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
She left the couch. Her long, streaked blonde hair flowed loosely about her broad shoulders, and as she stood there with the red tips of her phenomenal breasts pointing upward he felt a spurt of warmth in his groin. He looked at the marvelously alive body, remembering how the taste of that tanned flesh had given him complete satisfaction.
"Did you sleep with her?"
"No." He watched how the light sought her out, playing over the wonders of her form, high-lighting the gleam of the great, spherical hillocks, whitening the golden belly and the wheat-colored thatch between her tantalizing, full-blown thighs. As he moved about, air circulated in the' room, goose-fleshing her body and tightening the pink nipples.
"I'm glad you didn't, because you'll need all the strength you've got to sleep with me now."
"Get back on that couch," he ordered.
She did and he climbed atop her, pulled the squirming body closer and traced the curving lines of her wide hips before he stroked the warmly fleshed, plump thighs.
"From now on, just the two of us, darling."
"Will you marry me, Joyce?" He squeezed the overflowing fullness of her heaving breasts and listened to her moans, liking the way she twisted and thrust herself up.
She only had moments to moan yes, before she could no longer speak.
