Whether in the form of a salesman, a carnival pitch man, or a politician or, as in this novel, several men from various walks of life, the con man has always been with us, and with us he will most probably remain.
His victims include us all-the rich and the poor, the young and the old, the wise and the ignorant, the celebrity and the average citizen.
Widespread Whore is not a story about con men. It is the dramatic story of a woman victimized by, not only her circumstances, but the men she meets. As an impressionable and confused teenager she is conned into losing her virginity. She is taken advantage of by the principal of her school. Later, she is duped into marrying a masochist. And her ultimate degradation is when she is lured into the sordid world of prostitution.
Although this is a work of fiction, it contains a serious message-a warning-for all of us.
-The Publisher
Chapter One
Freda Thurlowe was not medically trained. In fact, it was a considerable challenge to her to handle a fingernail filed too close at the corner. But there she was, balancing a bottle of Merthiolate in her left hand and dabbing at Tuesday Noir's bleeding crotch.
"Jesus Christ! The son of a bitch damn near chewed you up and spit you right out on the floor!" she exploded. "What kind of a mangy mother-fucker would bite chunks out of a girl?"
"Shit, I don't know," Tuesday said wearily. "He was one of those smooth-talking cats when we haggled over the money, but once he got his pants off and caught sight of me bare, then he just went right out of his tree."
Freda dabbed on some more of the medicine and was gratified to see Tuesday wince. "If it burns, that's good," she said. "My grandmother always said the burning was a sign the germ was dying-"
"You and your grandmother," Tuesday sniffed. "I bet she never had any of that stuff stuck up her cunt. Goddamn! It's just like liquid fire."
"Maybe we shouldn't be putting it on there," Freda said doubtfully.
"Oh, goddamn! We've got to put it on," Tuesday said through her teeth. "That miserable cock-sucker probably has some creeping Chinese disease on his mouth. 'Bout my luck to have my snatch drop out just when we're getting ready for the football crowds. Hell, I bet I won't be able to fuck for a week,"
"Oh, it won't be that long," Freda assured her. "And even if it is, hell, blow-jobs are selling for more than just plain old fucking. Get down on those dicks, and you'll be banking plenty even if your snatch is a little gnawed up."
"Man, I can suck a cock with anybody," Tuesday said, "but these bastards who never wash 'em. So help me Jesus, I tried to eat a dick last week that had so much cheese caked on the head I goddamn near gagged. The guy was holding a wad of money or I would have told him to shove it. After I ate all the slit off his dick, he was a cheap mother. Laid a ten on me. I told him he ought to get up off at least fifty."
Freda replaced the top of the bottle. "Well, it'll be as good as new in no time. And listen, make those scummy assholes wash their cocks off. They know the damn things're dirty, and they know they stink."
"Naw, nobody ever thinks his cock's dirty and smelly. Like us. You ever think your cunt smells?"
"Hell, I know it does!" Freda said. "Jesus, after a Saturday night when I've screwed a battalion of men, I can smell the damn thing a block away."
"How many bites I got down there?" asked Tuesday.
"Well, he got you real good right in the twat. Looks like he tried to bite the left lip off. That's a real bad place. Then you got a bunch of scratches over the inside of your legs running all back to your asshole. You got a couple of nips out of your stomach, too. But the main thing is that big chunk right out of the middle of your cunt."
"I wish I could have pissed in his face or, even better, blown him out with a big fart!"
Freda laughed. "You're okay. You'll be going strong tomorrow."
"Yeah, I guess," Tuesday said. "Thanks for the paint job."
"Think nothin' of it," Freda said. "You're a tough ole gal. How'd you ever turn hooker anyhow? Not that it's any of my business..."
"Oh, shit. I'm not touchy about what's happened to me," Tuesday said. "It's been a great big sack of skunk-shit as long as I can remember. Hell, I never had nothing worth a damn, and I guess I was always trying to shove some pussy off in exchange for a friend or a chance to be somebody."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, like I can remember when I was eighteen. That summer they sent me to a miserable camp. Shit, it was worse than a prison. All these split-tailed assholes who were so fucking cute. And you know me.. . hell...I'm trying to be friendly with everybody, hoping to God somebody'd be decent. Oh, I can remember it like right now. It was as hot as the hubs of hell, and we were all sleeping naked..."
The rich snots went to the mountains, the folks kinda in the middle went to camps, and the poor whites and Negroes went to "Day Camps". Older guys were crowding the market as counselors. They worked the camps, taking their girl pussies where they could sneak them.
Tuesday's mother refused to consider any camp where there were men on the staff.
"Absolutely not!" she said, slapping the palm of her hand down on the kitchen table for emphasis. "Tuesday is not going out there with some sex-crazed woodmen. Lord knows I've worked all these years to keep her a virgin, and I'm not sending her where there're men or even guys."
The old man was a sore-codded old failure whose last hard-on had been the occasion for a three-day celebration, but it had been so long ago that nobody, not even the old man himself, could be exactly certain when. Since he was not fucking the old woman at all, she spent her time thinking about who else was and might be fucking Generally, it was a harmless pastime, but it was no help to Tuesday who wanted to go to a private camp at Yodel Hole, Virginia.
"NO!" her mother thundered. "You'll go to the camp where they have Christian ladies of refinement and some breeding to look after you. At least you can't be raped in an all-girl camp."
Pity the poor woman's total ignorance. Tuesday arrived on a Sunday afternoon, and was "processed" and assigned to a cabin. There were four other girls in the crude shelter, and Tuesday didn't like the way the mattress smelled.
Then she met Miss Emilia Douche (pronounced, she was cautioned), "doo-shay", with the accent on the last syllable). Miss Douche was a real, sure enough Frenchie, who had been to school, according to report, in Paris itself. She was butchy, and walked with a masculine swing to her shoulders. Her close-cropped hair framed a strong-featured face, and in her shorts, she displayed an excellent set of well-tanned legs. Tuesday noted that Miss Douche did not hold much in the mammary or tit department, but this was a minor point. The girl smiled, and offered Tuesday her hand.
"Come on, honey," she invited. "You're new, so let me show you around."
There followed a tour of the camp, and Tuesday was simply overwhelmed to find in the next couple of days that Miss Douche was her almost constant companion. On the evening of the third day, the counselor offered an unexpected prize.
"Why don't you come up and sleep with me, Tuesday?" she asked. "I have a great big bed all to myself, and I'd just love to have you. We could have.., fun!" The last was offered with a deliciously suggestive inflection which led Tuesday's stomach to contact with pleasurable pangs of anticipation. She could just picture the two of them with a flashlight under the covers after lights out, eating cookies which had been stolen from the kitchen.
Tuesday accepted Miss Douche's invitation, and was tingling all over with anticipation as she moved her things into the counselor's comfortable quarters.
"Here, dear, put your clothes in the closet, and let's get in bed! I've been wanting to get to bed with you for the longest time."
"You have?" Miss Douche asked, amazed. "You think we can have fun in bed?"
"Sure we can," Tuesday said. "You show me how."
Emilia Douche was thirty years old, and except for a deficiency in the boobie department. I was a magnificent piece of human construction. She could have attracted big, juicing, swinging cocks from a radius of several hundred miles. She could have been eaten and buggered by some of the more attractive men in two states. And had these attractions not turned her on, she could have chosen a lezzie partner from uncounted thousands of adult women who liked their vice versa. She had an oozing snatch for Tuesday from the moment the teen went through her "processing".
Tuesday was a honey blonde whose natural ringlets swept away from her high forehead. Her nose was pretty and her short upper lip gave her an appearance of pleasant pouting. The young woman was cute, as everybody back home said, and to Miss Douche, she represented the most succulent morsel ever offered.
"Tuesday," she said. "I want you to take off all your clothes and be naked."
"You gonna take yours off, too?" Tuesday asked, all excited.
"Yes. Yes, I am," Miss Douche replied. She began to pull her shirt over her head as Tuesday quickly got down to the buff. When they were both naked, Tuesday did not laugh or make reference to the thatched pussy bush between Emilia's legs. She did, however, look pointedly at the quivering cunt, and Emilia was so hot just from the glance that she was certain she would come as soon as she touched Tuesday's dainty snatch.
Miss Douche turned out the light, leaving the room bathed in a soft glow of moonlight. It was sufficient for Tuesday to see that Emilia's nipples were very pronounced and hard. The titties were small, but those nipples beat anything Tuesday had ever seen. She thought Miss Douche undoubtedly had the nicest, cleanest body in the whole world. She was so tanned! And she smelled so fresh!
"Lie down," Emilia said in a deepening, husky voice. "On your back, with your legs spread apart."
"Now," she said, climbing on the bed and straddling Tuesday's left leg, "we am going to play. ... we're going to make love. I'll show you how. Just lie still. You'll like what I'm going to do. Then, after I do it to you, you can do it to me."
"Oh, I'd like that," Tuesday said, shivering with delight. "Show me how to do whatever it is."
Emilia ran her fingers lightly over Tuesday's body, beginning at her titties, and sweeping down across her stomach to her legs. Special emphasis was given to the inside of Tuesday's thighs. Oh, how tender and sweet was the flesh there!
Carefully, Emilia avoided direct contact with Tuesday's pussy slash, but she allowed her fingers to play lightly aver the twat lips. The very delicate touch of those tapering fingers sent a quiver of pleasure over Tuesday. It was sure fun to be naked with Miss Douche.
The sweeping of the fingertips increased in tempo, and Emilia alternated her hands so that when the right was down low, the left was at the top, starting a new path between the tiny titties. Tuesday didn't know why, but when Emilia's finger brushed over her pussy, she involuntarily tightened her asshole. Uuummm! It was really fun!
Emilia was panting. She was so terribly hot. God, how she wanted to feel the warmth of that young body against herself!
She toyed with various ideas on how to get her first orgasm. Of course, it was going to be a swift and crude thing. Teaching Tuesday to lick a pussy might take a day or longer, and Emilia wanted to avoid any action which might, scare her. Oh, well, hell!
She lay down beside Tuesday, and slipped one arm under the girl's body. Crooking the arm, she was about to turn Tuesday on one side, and they were face to face.
With her free hand, Miss Douche reached around and took Tuesday's firm ass, and pulled her up close. Tuesday cooperated by wriggling in as tight as she could. Tuesday liked the feel of Miss Douche's nipples, and Emilia almost lost her breath when the contact was made at titty level. The touch of her boobs against Tuesday so excited Emilia that she allowed her fingers to wander in between the cheeks of the teen's ass.
And Oh, Jesus! There was her asshole! Too early to go into it, but, please God, Emilia prayed, just let me touch it. Oh! There it was!
When Emilia's index finger was planted on Tuesday's asshole, the girl hunched, and in so doing she brought the front of her well-made thigh up between Miss Douche's legs, and banged it sharply against her furry and chipping cunt.
That did it! Douche climaxed and, moaning, she began to lick and kiss Tuesday about the face. Tuesday kissed back, and was amazed to find Miss Douche sticking her tongue down her throat. That was fun!
Once she started to come, Miss Douche kept the orgasms railing. She pulled Tuesday up close and rolled over on her back. Thus, Emilia had Tuesday on top, with a meaty leg rubbing against her burning cunt. Miss Douche was so violent in her squirming and bunching that various parts of her body were coming in contact with Tuesday's pussy.
The sensation was delightful! Tuesday sometimes rubbed her box while sitting in the bathtub, and sometimes at night when she was certain Momma wasn't coming, she would elevate her nightgown and play with her twat. It had all been external, and she had not climaxed. But it was good!
Miss Douche was even better. Playing round the whole was an innovation which Tuesday relished. Ooooh! That made it so much more fun, and... Good Night! Miss Douche was going to kiss her...surely not...well, by golly, she did. Right in the pussy! Oooooh! Now that was something! Oh, good!
Tuesday began to match her older friend wiggle for wiggle. Without knowing why, she suddenly took Miss Douche's left titty into her mouth and
Was sucking it for all she was worth. A feel with which she was not familiar seemed to rise out from her crotch and burn all through her body.
God, Miss Douche had stuck her tongue up inside... No! Yes! Miss Douche was licking inside of Tuesday's pussy.
Tuesday sucked on the titty harder and attempted to reach around Miss Douche to get at the counselor's asshole. Tuesday liked the finger pressing gently on her brownie ... just about as much as she liked that wet, flashing tongue working its way around inside her pee-hole.
Ooooh!
Tuesday felt like she was about to pee and do number two at the same time. Oh, she was going to do it! There came over her the grandest, awfullest, sweetest, most frightening feeling ever!
She shuddered, and quivered, and dug her fingers into Miss Douche as she reached her first come.
"You're coming," Miss Douche whispered breathlessly. "Isn't it wonderful! Oh, Tuesday, keep going now, you're beginning to learn how to do it."
Tuesday had no idea of doing anything else, less than continuing. She- was hot, tough at the time she would not have understood the term. As she felt the great ball of fire roll about her body, Tuesday hoped that Miss Douche would keep licking up her pussy forever.
Oh, it was so good! Tuesday wanted some more of that sweet tongue up her snatch, and, if possible, she wanted to get closer, more involved.
Emilia realized that Tuesday was overcome, swept away by the power of her first climax. She was also perceptive enough to know that Tuesday wanted to get it again. This torrid moment of first desire was the time, then, to break the girl in correctly. The Bible says, as the twig is bent, so grows the tree. Starting a girl off as a lesbian requires a proper appreciation for the necessity of participation. Emilia did not have the least idea of letting Tuesday be a passive partner.
"Now, Tuesday, isn't it fun?"
"Yes, yes!" the teen cried. "Let's do it some more!"
"Sure we will, but I want you to do everything I do. Okay?"
"Oh, yes, I'll do anything!"
Emilia patted Tuesday on the as lovingly. "Good. Now turn around and put your head down where you can kiss into my pussy."
"You want me to kiss it? You want me to stick my tongue up your pussy like you did mine?"
Miss Douche felt her knees melt at the prospect. God, this was all too good to be true! A real, truly inclined lezzie. Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you and God, too, for sending this along. Oh, Tuesday was an angel, heaven sent to give poor Emilia's tongue-starved cunt some relief.
"Yes, that's it! Shove your tongue in my gash!
Now, lick up at the top. Feel that hard place? That's a clitoris. Here, let me feel you.
There ... . there! See! You have one, too. Here, see how it feels when I lick it."
Emilia applied her tongue to the almost hidden clit of Tuesday and when the contact was firmly made, Tuesday almost cried aloud.
It was such a heavenly feeling! Oh, how good it was to kiss and lick in Miss Douche's pussy. Golly, it sure was wet. Had she been pissing? No, it didn't smell like pee. It was. . . well, oily. That made it easy to get up inside her snatch. Oh, Miss Douche was just full of great surprises. Tuesday loved her.
They ate each other's pussies, and Tuesday worked with an ever-increasing deftness and appreciation. She was having the best time of her whole life, thanks to Emilia.
After coming once, Tuesday was slow to come again, because every time the climax approached, she was a little taken aback by the violence of her feeling, and she would unintentionally do something to change the course of things and keep her from blowing off.
But Emilia kept coming time after time, until she was fearful for her sanity. Really, she wanted to change things. She wanted to get up Tuesday's asshole and show Tuesday how to go up her own bung, but Emilia Douche had never in her whole life been so completely satisfied.
Oh, Tuesday was a lamb, a wonder of wonders! And Emilia was determined to keep the girl near her. Oh, she would work in a shit-house, eat acorns and drink creek water, but she could never allow Tuesday to get away again.
They kept eating and slurping each other's cunts until Emilia had come ten times of which she could be certain, and others, perhaps, which had been beyond her capacity to recall. She decided that she would hold off and come once more, and that she would concentrate on Tuesday's snatch to make certain the girl ended their first session racked with the shivers of orgasm. Once a girl got used to the idea of coming, Emilia felt, she could be counted on.
Tuesday was gobbling in Emilia's cunt, and the wetness from the hole, plus the overflow from Tuesday's mouth had dipped and saturated the bed. But Tuesday didn't care. How sweet to eat Miss Douche's pussy, and how sweet it was ...
Holy God! Miss Douche had stuck her finger in Tuesday's asshole!
The girl wanted to fill her lungs with the maximum amount of air they could accommodate and scream in great, pleasurable anguish. However, she was mute. No sound escaped her as she burrowed deeper into the muff, and twisted her ass about to grind the intruding finger into the most delightful spots. As that digit worked in her butthole, Tuesday was approaching orgasm under the tongue attacking her Nat She was stimulated by her own pussy-sucking, and just as she got her come, Miss Douche felt tiny fingers steal into the crack of her as, and then she came herself. They went off almost together.
"You're wonderful!" Emilia breathed. "I love you!"
"I love you, too, Miss Douche. Can I sleep naked here some more?"
Chapter Two
"Damn, you really got told of a good one on the first round, didn't you?" Freda said as she prepared a douche to clear out the residue of sixteen loads of jizz which had been squirted into her cunt in a single night. She splashed a little water into her cunt between customers, but when the night's work was over, she really cleaned her twat out. Tuesday usually did, but her cunt was too tender now.
"Yeah, I let her eat my snatch for the rest of the summer. By fall, she was tired of me, and I was pretty tired of her. I will say it was good. She was a hell of a lot better than most of the men I've known."
"Well, you don't fuck these square idiots who pay, like, you know, not for real?"
"Fuck them for real! Good Christ. Most of 'em wouldn't know which end of a dick to stick in if I didn't show 'em. Hell, they remind me of the first sure enough cock I ever got. It was the fall after Miss Douche had got me started. Seemed like all the girls had suddenly got awful interested in guys and what they were supposed to have between their legs.
Bobo Wilder was a walking curiosity among his contemporaries at Valley View High School. His dick was eight and a half inches long-on hard, as they said-and not only did he possess this astounding piece of masculine equipment, but when it was properly stimulated, it could shoot a glob of milky white cum out the end. Not dribble-shoot! The other guys, who unashamedly worshiped Bobo did well to get a trace of dampness on their tools when they whipped them so feverishly in bed at night. Bobo was above and beyond jacking off in bed.
"Hell, what would I do with all that cum? Shit, it's enough to starch a bed sheet stiff. My old lady would shit!"
"That's right," they would echo. "She'd sure as hell shit!"
Bobo had never had a piece of pussy!
He glanced about to measure the prospects of the home stand of available cunt. There was not great promise, and yet.... Hey, look at that mouse over there. Look at that Tuesday Noir! Titties bulging there, and, oh, what a pretty ass!
"I'd let her shit in my face just to see where it came from," one eager guy observed as Tuesday's butt switched by in the hall.
"Shit," Bobo said, not to be topped. "I'd eat a turd fifty miles long and drink a bucket of piss at every crossroads just to get a sniff of her pussy."
So, because another had made the observation about taking a fecal face smear, Bobo decided that Tuesday was to be the recipient of his monster cock.
Having resolved to sink his dick into Tuesday, Bobo dried up his own income.
He talked with her at lunch and when he could between classes, and then he walked her home and loitered about until her mother called her inside, and gave Bobo a distinctly unfriendly sniff as she banged the door shut. He had to remain seated on the steps for a little while to permit his tool to go down. Bobo got a hard-on every time he looked at Tuesday.
Then, the second day, after being chased away again by her mother, Bobo encountered a serious and disturbing problem. Deep in the darkness of his bedroom, his mind wandered to the wondrous roundness of Tuesday's tight ass, and as he turned this phenomenon over in his mind, his tool rose. His cock was so hard it actually ached, and he fought to keep his hands off his suffering meat.
Goddamn, he had to have relief. But he had sworn a solemn oath that he would not jack off. He would save his cum to shoot it into Tuesday's cunt. But, goddamn, he was hot! His nuts were aching.
He wanted to whip that skin back and forth, wanted to feel the head of Ails tool swell in his hand as he neared orgasm. No! I can't wait! I must! Jesus, he was going out of his mind in a lather of impatient sweat. In desperation, he rolled over on his stomach.
Aaaaah! As soon as his body was pressing his cock into the warmth and softness of the mattress, he was aflame.
To hell with what he had said! Tuesday's teasing ass wavering in his mind, he began to hunch his tool into the mattress, wiggling his ass about on the downstroke to bury his meat as far in the goodness of the stuffing as he could. He pulled the covers into a knot between his legs so that his balls were supported and pushed upward.
Oh, it was mighty, mighty good! He was going to come. He knew it. And what about the sheet? Fuck it! It would just have to be there.
The next day, after a couple of false starts, Bobo took the bull by the horns and asked Tuesday if he could come over to see her that weekend. She was admittedly tickled pink, but at thirteen, her folks discouraged real dates. Maybe an afternoon stroll to the picture show, she suggested. He agreed, and they were both looking forward with hot pants to the mode. And, not strangely, each of them was trying to figure a way not to see the show.
"Hey, tell you what!" Bobo said when they were walking alone down the street toward the theater. "It's such a nice day, and the leaves are turning and all . .. uh . . . why don't. . .uh . . we . .uh.."
"Take a walk in the woods instead of going to the movie?" Tuesday prompted.
"Yeah.. . that's it!" he seized on her words. "That's a great idea."
So they joined hands and walked into the woods, and made their way through paths of diminishing clarity to the old rock quarry. There were countless crevices and little caves where anyone could hide undetected, and it was into one of the larger caves that Bobo led Tuesday.
She followed eagerly. Not that she was prepared to offer her pussy up, but she did want to be with the big guy about whom she had heard such enticing stories. She was certain his tool was as big as everyone said, because she could see the outline of his cock when he walked.
He took her by both hands and faced her squarely. "Tuesday, you're pretty," he said awkwardly. "I don't know much about how to tell you, but you know what I want?"
"No," she gasped breathlessly. "What?"
"I want to see you without no clothes on.
Tuesday tried to look dumb. "What for?" she said. "You mean get naked here in the cave?"
"That's right," he said, feeling his cock rising as she seemed to consider his request. "I'd get naked, too, if you'd let me."
"Then what?" she asked with about 50-percent innocence, and 50-percent hard-core curiosity.
"We could lie down and rub up against each other," he said. "I'd let you feel me . . . all over, and I could feel you."
Tuesday felt a tug in her britches. She really wanted to sample his tool; she wanted to see what it would be like to fuck a guy. But she hesitated. Her mother had filled her with great dread of the day when her virtue would be sacrificed to the lusts of a man. And Miss Douche had warned her as well.
So much fear of an erected cock had been poured into her that Tuesday could not shake it all over in a moment or two. She really had no desire for him to shove his dick into her pussy; rather, she wanted to feel his strong young muscles holding her, and she felt that it would be a worthwhile thrill to touch her boobies against the hardness of his chest.
"Is that all?" she asked; "Just to feel each other?"
He was sheepish. Bobo couldn't tell the girl a lie.
Hell, he was a straight-shooter and she was being straight. "You want me to tell the truth?"
"Yes, I sure do," she said.
"I was hoping we could fuck!"
He had said it. He held his breath, and to his surprised gratification, the roof of the cave remained intact.
Tuesday had never heard anybody give voice to F-U-C-K. Nice girls spelled it or never used the term. Miss Douche made love; she did not fuck or suck. But Tuesday knew exactly what fleck meant.
It meant the keen slippery tool of a guy oozing its way into a cunt end touching parts up inside of a girl which were beyond tongues or fingers.
Her mother, Elmira, had hinted darkly that one cock insertion might be sufficient to drive a girl out of her mind. The best policy was to avoid dicks and the guys they were hung on. Nothing but trouble could come, but Tuesday was enthralled and enchanted. She wanted to see him naked and to lay her bare hands on his up surging dick. Throwing caution to the winds, and succumbing totally to her desire and her curiosity, Tuesday said:
"Okay, but you're not gonna hurt me, are you?"
"Oh, no... .no...!" he stammered. "Not a bit. I'll feel ever so gentle."
She began to take off her clothes in a businesslike manner, and was almost naked, down to her bra and panties, when she noticed that Bobo had not begun to disrobe.
"Whatcha waiting on?" she said. "Go ahead!"
"I will, I will," he said. "I'm just waitin' a minute."
"What for?"
But Bobo was embarrassed. Instinctively, Tuesday knew what his problem was. So, clad only in her underthings, a circumstance which made his cock jump and leap inside his pants, she walked close to him and tenderly took his prick in her hand. He gasped.
"Look, Bobo. I'm gonna see it in a minute anyway. Don't be scared. Heck, it was your idea to start with."
"I know," he said, bristling. "I ain't scared."
To prove it, he jerked his shirts over his head, and pushed his loafers off. Then he pulled off his socks. Well, there was nothing else to do. He flipped his fly open, and his pants fell about his ankles, and his shorts were not far behind.
His cock was the loveliest thing Tuesday had ever seen. It was eight inches. . . maybe longer. And it had a certain obtuse beauty about it. The shaft was well formed, and it supported the head proudly. Bobo was not mature enough for his balls to swing, but they were clearly visible. Tuesday was thrilled.
"I've felt yours," she said. "Do you want to feel mine?"
Bobo licked his lips. He let his hand slide up the smooth inside of her thighs. Oh, how velvet soft it was! His whole being throbbed with desire and appreciation. What a wonderful creature a girl was! As his wandering fingers approached the junction of her legs, Tuesday instinctively allowed her knees to part, and this opened up her pussy and its mysterious hole.
Bobo panted. His whole was fluttering as he neared her cunt. Down the exit tube of his dick, he felt a tiny droplet of cooze ease out and was flushed, back over the head of his cock by Tuesday's hand. She was stroking his prick, and he was certain that if she persisted, he would shoot off. But he was no longer embarrassed. He was enthralled; in fact, he was all but hypnotized by the wonder of her body.
As he felt between her legs, letting his curious finger part the lips of her pouting pussy, he moved in as close to her as he could. Their bodies touched, and he could feel her tits against his chest. Oh, it was something else! Goddamn! Wait 'til he told the guys about this! But the hell with the story telling. He was on the verge of getting his dick dipped in the honey hole of a real cunt.
"Tuesday," he croaked in her ear, "can we lay down?"
"Lie down," she corrected his grammar. "What for? We can feel each other okay standing up, can't we?"
"It's better lying down," he said. "Besides, this is making me as weak as water. I want to pull you up close to me."
Tuesday was only human, and she wanted to feel Bobo as much as he wanted to feel her. "Okay," she said. "Let's get down, but I got to have something under me. I can't lie down in the dirt."
Bobo used his pants and underwear for a blanket and they both lay down on it.
Without a word, they turned to face each other.
She reached around Bobo and pulled him up to her, and met his mouth with a searing, tongue-fucking kiss. He was unfamiliar with real kissing techniques, but he had overheard enough conversations in the pool room to know what to do. He shoved his tongue out to meet Tuesday's, and allowed his cock to replace his hand between her legs.
Now that was more like it! The warmth of her thigh was sooo good! His cock throbbed and juiced.
Tuesday knew what was "going on because she had been thoroughly accustomed to a juicing genital. Emilia's cunt had flowed like the river Jordan when they had been eating each other's pussies. She was not then surprised to feel Bobo's hot dampness on her body.
She tiled to maneuver herself so that she would be able to straddle his leg and work her cunt against the muscles of his thigh. But he was not cooperative. In fact, he did not understand her maneuver. He kept pushing until his cock slopped up against her pussy hole, and when Tuesday felt that searing meat pressing on her cunt, she forgot all about trying to hunch his leg.
Oooooh! His dick was hot! She worked her hips about and dragged her clit over the raw head of his drenched cock. Bobo gasped, and reached around to grab her by the cheeks of her ass.
Tuesday had not intended to allow him to shove his cock inside her cunt, but when Bobo took hold of the bouncy cheeks of her ass, she responded by slipping a finger inside his asshole.
Bobo was proud of the fact that when the guys were beating each other off and having cock measuring contests he had never allowed anybody to fool around with his asshole. Anybody, he believed, who would suffer a cock up his asshole was a fink and a pervert. But Tuesday's finger was a different ballgame. It was at first a searing pain as she forced her way past the puckering muscle of his shithole, but after she was inside, somehow, it felt good. Goddamn! He thought he would come and shit, in that order.. . or simultaneously, and he didn't care. She had transported him to new heights with her finger probing his asshole.
Bobo used his hand to guide the head of his cock right in the mouth of her pussy, Oh, it was rough going! The ground they lay on was rocky, and they both picked up a number of bruises in the course of their action. But ft was so damn good!
Tuesday felt his prick probing into her hole, and a fleeting thought of caution swept over her mind. She must not fuck! There might be a baby. God! It would be the very worst thing, and yet ...
"Bobo, are you trying to stick it in me?" she asked, trying not to strangle on his tongue.
"Yes! For God's sake, open your legs wider so I can get it in."
"Do you love me?" she asked, all woman.
And he was all man. "Of course I love you," he whispered almost savagely. "Do you think I would want to stick it in someone I didn't love?"
That was all Tuesday needed to hear. She allowed her legs to flop open and her pussy, bearing only the faintest suggestion of hair, was there and ready to receive his cock.
Bobo growled and raised himself up an his knees. He pointed his cock into her cunthole which she obligingly held open for him.
Neither of them was prepared for what took place. Tuesday felt the constriction of her too-tight pussy as the lips gave way to his prick. The oversized meat went sliding through the ripped tissue and bloody passage of her cunt.
Tuesday was crying out with pain, and trying to back her ass away and push Bobo off at the same time.
He, too, experienced pain, but it was at once dismissed as the greater pull of his hot meat drove him onward. He had no trouble after the initial and painful thrust was accomplished. He went in all the way, and having touched bottom, he was not long in blasting his come right in the depths of her cunt. He started shooting off, and kept spilling the goo. Whew! His balls ached, and he wanted to get all the way up inside of her cunt. Tingles ran over his body as his prick quivered from the thrilling pain.
Although painful, his cock had given her a new thrill, and aroused in her a new desire. She knew right then that she would never again be satisfied to have some girl lick around on her pussy. She would need manmeat, lots of it. Right there, as Bobo spewed his semen in her hole, she acquired a taste for cock which would be the undoing of her whole life.
"Sounds like he did a pretty good job," Freda said. "I wish to God I could run into somebody like him right now. Hell, I'd love to have a stiff-cocked one more time."
"Yeah, he wasn't bad," Tuesday agreed, smiling. "Not bad at all!"
Chapter Three
Tuesday reached for a cigarette. "That Bobo was all right!" she said. "He did a lot for me. Took my cherry, and it wasn't long after that when he gave me my first insight into what assholes men really are."
"Yeah?" Freda said with interest. "How was that"
Bobo's cock made interesting diversion for several months. Tuesday overcame all her reluctance for the prick, and helped him arrange for all sorts of trysts so she could get her quota of cock.
They fucked everywhere, and in every conceivable fashion. Within two weeks of the first time, Tuesday had so thoroughly-schooled Bobo that they were eating at the sixty nine club like veterans. Bobo had balked briefly when Tuesday wanted him to eat out her asshole, but he had finally overcome his inhibitions and done an acceptable job.
As Bobo fucked, he also let his mouth run wild, and soon the word spread all over campus that Tuesday had one of the finest cunts.
Tuesday talked too, praising the virtues and talents of Bobo's cock. It was natural, therefore, that others would become interested in the pair, but on an individual basis. Tuesday repulsed all other guys who sniffed around her. After all, them wasn't another cock as large nor another guy so handsome in the whole school.
She saw him the next morning.
"Where the hell were you yesterday?" she snapped. "I missed seeing you after school."
"Busy," he answered. "Probably be busy today, too?'
"I know what you been doing," she snarled. "Out fucking those common whores."
Bob yawned. "So?"
Tuesday was near tears. "So you're in love with me. You aren't supposed to be fucking around!"
"Come off the horseshit and grow up," he sneered. And with that, he turned away, and left Tuesday to cry her own bitter tears.
Tuesday vowed revenge.
Highlight of the week in school was the Friday night football game. Tuesday went alone and unescorted.
If the other girls could come over and fuck Bobo, then by God, she would just turn the tables and fuck another guy. Her cunt was as good as any on the senior campus, she certainly had acquired enough brashness to accost a guy and lure him into the bushes. I'll show him, she thought. I'll make the son of a bitch sorry he shit on me!
The game was a piss-poor exhibition, or at least it seemed so to Tuesday. Part of the time she searched the crowd for a sight of Bobo and whatever girl might have claimed him for the night. The remainder of the time she looked around for a likely date.
Bobo was nowhere to be seen, and all the guys she tried to attract, just weren't interested.
So, when the game was over and everyone started for their after-parties or for parked loving, Tuesday was still alone. Purposely, she avoided seeing any of her girl friends. They had not been overly warm to her since the word had been spreading about her fucking with Bobo.
Finally, Tuesday gave up and started on the eight-block trek back to her house. She had never felt so blue in her life.
The headlights of a clanking hot-rod car picked her up as she walked. She was aware of its slowing down, but she did not lift her gaze from the sidewalk. God knows, after everything else that had happened, she was being damn careful not to step on any cracks. Jesus, that might end the world!
"Hi there!" a voice called from the clattering and fuming car. "You need a ride?"
Tuesday looked up through her tear-brimming eyes and saw a stripped down old Chevy with no top, no hood, mag wheels, and some shiny goodies on top of the engine. The guy driving was gunning the engine and making all sorts of smoke and noise as she counted five guys in the machine, all of whom had their feet hanging out except the driver. He was calling to her and offering a ride.
"No, I don't think so," she said. "I just live a little way from here."
"Aw, came on." The teen leaped out of the car. "Hey! What's the matter with you?"
Tuesday sniffed. "Nothing. . not a thing," she said, trying to smile. "I guess I could use a ride. You got room for me in there?"
"Heck yeah," the driver said. "Hey, guys, make room! We have just picked up a bird!"
A sandy head appeared above the rim of the back seat. "Well, all right," he said. "All right. If we can't shoot a squirrel, then let's have a bird." The others laughed.
There were no room, so she had to be boosted over the side. The sandy-haired one, lifted her under the thigh and took a quick look at her deliciously rounded ass. Tuesday had on bright red panties, and the teens lifting her got a sight of those britches and exchanged glances. The driver pursed his lips into a silent whistle.
Soon Tuesday was in the front seat between two handsome high school guys. They had long, sweeping hair, and each of them had his shirt open almost to his navel. Tuesday could see just a trace of hair on the driver. It was a little patch, black as midnight, growing right between his tits. Tuesday liked it.
"I'm Howard Clay," the driver said, "and these guys are Tony Cash, Andy Partner, Phil Upton and Bernie Jackson."
"Hi! I'm Tuesday Noir."
"Been to the ball game?"
"Yes."
"By yourself?" Andy asked from the backseat, poking his companions with his elbows.
Tony, who was with her and Howard in the front seat, let his arm slide off the back of the seat, and rest lightly about her shoulders. "Ain't you got a boy friend?"
"Sure.. I got a boy friend," Tuesday said defensively. "His name is Bobo Wilder."
"Well, don't worry, you got a lot of boy friends now. Right, fellas?"
They all shouted their agreement, and Tony pulled her a little bit tighter with his arm. She also noted that Howard had allowed his leg to rub against her thigh.
"Hey, how about driving out somewhere for a coke or something?" Howard said. "It's early yet, and nobody's going home."
"Yeah!"
"Great idea!"
"Let's go!"
"I guess so," Tuesday said hesitantly.
"What did you say your boy friend's name was?" Andy asked as they headed toward the outskirts of town.
"Bobo Wilder."
"Yea, that's what I thought."
Bernie spoke up suddenly: "Ain't he that guy that's been screwing around with your chick, Howard?"
"Shut up!" snapped Howard. "Don't pay any attention to him," he told Tuesday. "I'm just real glad, yeah, real glad I found you tonight. You know, you're a doll!"
Tuesday flushed in the darkness.
Howard eased Tony's arm from around her, and replaced it with his own. He pulled her to him, and made no pretense about what he was doing. As he drove with one hand, he let his other drop carelessly over her shoulder until his fingers were resting lightly on her lit. Tuesday didn't mind. Her tits were not big enough to quarrel over, and besides, it was so nice to have five guys when she had been entirely alone for the whole evening.
Tony placed his left hand in the seat between them, and boldly worked his fingers along her bare leg. Tuesday gave him a quick look.
Howard began to massage her titty lightly, and Tony moved from the outside of her leg to the top, and then moved his fingers into the softness of her inner thigh.
Tuesday parted her legs just a trifle. Not enough to open her pussy to immediate invasion, but if he was going to have his hand in there, he had to have room enough to maneuver.
Phil, Andy and Bernie knew that pussy was being stalked, and they were excited. The three craned their necks to watch the progress in the front seat as the car moved off the main highway onto a country road.
Phil poked Andy in the ribs to get his attention. When Andy looked, Phil pulled his fly open and allowed a big, hard cock to get out in the air.
Andy smiled, and guided Phil's hand to feel in his own crotch. There was another erection. Bernie, too intent on watching Tuesday in the front to notice his companions in the back, suddenly caught the odor of hot cocks. He saw that Phil and Andy had their dicks out and were slowly jerking them as they kept their eyes glued to Tony's hand sliding up under Tuesday's dress.
Bernie was more imaginative. He eased his tool out of his trousers, and reached over and got Phil's free hand. He wrapped Phil's fingers about his cock, and then Phil was jerking two of them... his own and Bernie's.
Howard, who had a bursting hard-on, pulled the car off the road under the spreading antis of a great oak. It was dark.
"Is this okay?" he whispered to Tuesday.
For her answer, Tuesday turned toward Howard and kissed him long and searchingly. As she rotated toward Howard, her ass turned toward Tony.
Tony flipped her short skirt up, exposing the cheeks of her ass. He could not see the smooth texture of her body, but Tony knew that her body was strong and firm, and that the cheeks of her ass were very appealing.
Tuesday pushed up to Howard as closely as she could. He was absorbing her tongue, and feeding his back. Tony was working his fingers first inside the legs of her panties, and when that was too tight a fit, he simply pulled them down over her ass. Her ass was bare!
Tony ran his hands eagerly over the smoothness of her backside, his index finger slithering up between the cheeks of her ass. Her asshole shuddered. Tony knew that Tuesday was hot. He rolled his body up next to her, and reaching around to clasp her, he rammed his dick between the cheeks of Tuesday's ass.
Tuesday knew what was happening, and although she knew it was a sin to fuck, and certainly no nice girl would allow two utter strangers to maul her and probe her asshole with a hot cock, still . . . it was fun. And she felt so warm and wanted. It was just nice. Tony did not stick his cock in her asshole. He just let it lie along the crack of her ass as he hunched up and down. Tuesday, slobbering as her tongue licked Howard's face, tightened and loosened her ass to make it better for Tony.
Howard was content with the soul kissing until he felt Tony's hand touch him. Tony had to take hold of Howard to pull up close to Tuesday. Howard opened his eyes, and saw what was going on, and decided immediately that he was getting the shit end of the stick. Goddamn! After all, he had picked the bird up.
But Tony gave him a pleading, searching look, so Howard decided he would go along for a little while. He backed his hips away from Tuesday's close embrace long enough to get his dick out of his pants, and then he put his cock into Tony's hand.
Tony smiled. He was glad to pull on Howard's cock so long as he could have priority in Tuesday's asshole.
But Bernie, Phil and Andy were not content. They were about to go out of their minds. They had worked out a circle jerk where each of them was pumping the prick of another, But the rough male hand was not much good compared to the smoothness of a female ass, and they could not stand what was going on in plain sight.
Phil, seated in the middle, worked his way forward to where he was able to force a hand between Howard and Tuesday.
When Phil got his hand in the close confines of their bodies, he managed to get inside her dress, and was soon well down inside her dress.
There was a great deal of hunching and rolling about in the front seat, and after Phil got his hand on her titties, he was not doing a very good job of healing Bernie's meat. The rhythm of stroking a pussy and jerking a cock are decidedly different, and Phil was certainly giving his primary attention to the tits.
Andy was still beating Phil's dick in a smooth motion, and if Bernie felt neglected, well... that was tough shit!
Bernie was jacking Andy perilously close to climax, and it was so damn good, he was just lying back and enjoying it.
But when Bernie got upset about the front seat, he began to slack off on Andy's prick, and then Andy got upset, and quit beating Phil, and in the briefest of times, what had been a satisfactory circle jerk degenerated into a series of snorts, pokes, squirms, and finally a voice which gave vent to the frustration in the rear seat
"Goddamn it!" Phil cried out. "This is for shit! Lot's get out of this damn car and get on the ground where we can all get at her."
"Hell, this is okay," Tony said, trying to quiet the uprising and protect his privileged position.
"Yeah, for you, you son of a bitch!" Andy said. "But we ain't getting anything."
"Can't you guys wait?" Howard demanded as Tuesday pulled away from him. "Goddamn it, she can't take everybody at once. Tell 'em, honey, that you'll screw everybody, but they got to be patient, and I'm first."
Screw everybody! Goddamn! Tuesday was shocked, she was not a whore.
"I certainly will not!"
That was as far as she got. As she started to refuse to fuck anybody, let alone the whole crowd, Tony grabbed her hand and forced it onto his cock, and then he dived straight down and fastened his eager mouth over her cunt. Before Tuesday could say anything else, Tony had slammed his tongue up her snatch, and had drawn the upper portion of her cunt between his lips. Her clitoris was captured, and before she could protest, as she knew she must, the great orgasmic wave began to swell and break over her, and Tuesday bumped her pussy up in Tony's face.
"oooooh!" she gasped. "That's so good!"
"Then you will let us all have some?" Howard pressed.
Tony sucked.
"Say yes!" Phil demanded.
The tongue darted over, her pussy, and down between her legs.
"Yes! Good God, yes!" Tuesday screamed. "Yes! Give it to me . . . but take it easy. I'm tight and I don't want to get hurt."
They all tumbled out of the car.
Miraculously, the guys produced a tarpaulin, and it was spread on the ground.
Tuesday felt her dress being pulled over her head, and she was momentarily concerned that it might be torn.
"Take it easy," she said. "I got to wear my clothes home, and they can't be messed up."
They tossed her dress and underwear in the car where her panties were already swinging from the car-shift lever. She was naked, and suddenly she realized that the night was pretty damn cold to be lying around on the ground with no clothes on.
Chapter Four
Tony felt that he had squatter's rights to her asshole since he had been there first. He also felt that he should have first shot at her pussy since he was the one who had eaten it and overcome her reluctance.
But when they got her on the ground, each guy tried to dive in and get the best places. Her titties were not really that good, and it was pretty obvious that the last man would have to settle for the boobs.
The confusion, however, was too much. Howard did not agree with Tony's conception of priority rights. It was his car and he had shot the squirrel. (They were by that time in tacit, unspoken agreement that she was no bird, She was at least a squirrel, and quite possibly a beaver, a beaver differing from a squirrel in the broadness and quality of its tail).
There had to be some sort of organized effort, or the game would be lost. Tony was rooting in her snatch like a boar hog, and the others were all rolling about on the tarp trying to find some place to stick their cocks. Howard finally decided he had to bring some order to the group.
"Hey, wait," he cried. "Goddamnit. Wait!"
Nobody paid any attention to him. He seized Andy and Bernie by their shoulders and rolled them aver. He pushed Phil away with his foot. Tony was a tougher problem, because he was deep in the muff, lapping and sucking and whipping his own dick as he ate. He was not easily moved. However, Howard sank to his knees and rammed his own swollen cock as forcefully as he could right up Tony's asshole.
"Jesus Christ!" Tony screamed, pulling his head out of Tuesday's crotch. "What the hell you doin'?"
"All of you listen to me!" Howard commanded. "This is my beaver. We're out in my car, and by Christ, I'm gonna have some order. Listen to me! And we'll all get it! Don't listen, and we all go home!"
The other four could have taken him, but Howard was much bigger than any one, and nobody wanted to be the first challenger. The probability of becoming a casualty was too great. They stood back and listened.
"All right," he panted. "That's better. Now, honey, you roll up on your left side.. . that's right. Are you game for everything?"
"Whatcha' mean everything!" she asked, shivering. "I'm cold."
"You'll be warm enough in a minute," Howard promised. "I mean will you kiss me on the cock?"
"Big deal," she said, bored. "I guess I will. Those high-school sluts are probably kissing Bobo all over."
"You bet they are!" Andy said, and got a hard look from Howard.
"All right. We're all going to get you at once, and if you cooperate, it will be the best ever in the whole world."
"All? At once?"
"Yeah," he said. "Here's how. I'm going to stick mine in your pussy. Tony will stick his up your asshole. You blow Bernie, and jack Andy and Phil with either hand. Nobody starts until we're in position."
"Well fuck this," Andy said. "It ain't fair. Hell, you got a snatch. Tony's got an asshole and Bernie's getting a blow job. Goddamn, where the hell are we?"
"Wait a minute," Howard said. "We are going to go three minutes like this, and then we change. That way everybody will get a piece of her ass, her cunt, her mouth."
"That's great," Phil said.
"Just one thing more," Howard warned. "If anybody comes, he's out. You can slow it down anytime you like, but if you come, just hang your cue in the rack and wait. Okay?"
"I'm freezing," Tuesday complained.
"Okay, get your clothes off, fellows," Howard said.
They all got naked in a hurry, and no one had a hard-on. Tony was erected slightly, but his cock was so short and stubby that it was difficult to tell when he had a hard-on and when he didn't. The damn thing always stuck right straight out in front of him. When it was hard, it just stuck out a little farther.
Howard had the largest cock of the crew. It was seven inches, and Tuesday thought it was a junior-sized fire hose when he placed it in her hand. Only half hard, it leaped up to full attention at her touch.
Howard lay down facing Tuesday. As soon as she felt his body next to hers, she stopped shaking and reached out for him.
Tony was ready to enter her asshole.
Howard and Tuesday began to kiss. This brought forth a loud protest from Bernie.
"Goddamnit!" he said. "Quit kissing her. It ain't right. You got her pussy, and I'm supposed to have her mouth."
"Sorry Bernie," Howard said. "I guess I just got carried away."
He concentrated on getting his cock into her dry and lightly closed pussy. There was not sufficient lubricating juice to make the penetration easy. But her mouth was wet, and Bernie was the first one to get a satisfactory arrangement going. As soon as his cock went inside her mouth, Tuesday began to lap about the head of his cock and send little thrills running over his nervous system.
Phil seized her right hand and closed her fingers over his cock, and Andy did the same to her left. Tuesday had to blow one cock, jerk two dicks, and as soon as Howard and Tony got into her holes, she had to hunch in two different directions at once. It was a tough challenge.
Howard quickly ascertained that her pussy was too dry to get into.., so he pulled away and stroked a generous supply of saliva from his mouth over the head of his prick. Then he spit in his fingers again, and doused the moisture up between the lips of her cunt.
Tony took more direct action. He flung himself down, and parting the cheeks of her ass with his hands, licked her right in the tail hole, shoving his tongue up the puckered brownie.
Howard placed his cock to the opening of her cunt. Her reaction to the tongue in her tail was helpful in getting Howard's throbbing cock into her snatch. It slid in with a minimum of friction, and was soon fucking her cunt. There was pain when Howard touched bottom, and Tuesday jerked backward just as Tony was poised at the entrance to her ass.
Tony was surprised when her ass came roaring at him, but he was ready. He steadied his took, and pushed forward to meet her motion. The result was that his cock was buried in her bowel, and once inside, he found the heat was tremendous, and that there was a slushy quality about her asshole.
Tuesday was the one torn between delight, fear and pain. She was also hard pressed to keep her cock-jacking in any sort of order. At first she tried to jerk the two cocks up and down simultaneously, but this was too hard and unnatural. Then she discovered that if she pumped them alternately, it was easier. But the entire operation gave her the distinct feeling of being called upon to run in five different directions at once, and it was tough to decide in which direction she felt the greatest compulsion.
Perhaps it was better that the feeling alternated between her pussy and her asshole. Both of the cocks inside her cunt and ass were excellent. And the one in her mouth gave her great oral satisfaction. Bernie wanted a full-shafted suck; and he drove his cock down her throat with insistent force. Every time he probed into her throat, Tuesday would gag slightly, and this would be reflected in the spans which racked her body and made her two lower holes bite and milk on the cocks which they contained.
But Bernie was so intent on getting deeper into her gullet, that he forgot the passion building within him. Suddenly, it was too late. He had gone too far. He could not stop. His balls were drawing up in that tight sac. He would come. It would mean that he would not get to experience the beat of her ass or cunt, but he didn't care.
Bernie closed his eyes, and tightened his asshole. He reached out and got a handful of Tuesday's hair, rolled her head about roughly. His libido soared and finally it plunged over the precipice.
"Here I go!" he screamed. He lunged forward, knocking Andy's dick out of her hand, and fucked his cock into the back of her throat. Tuesday felt the hot come blast into her mouth, and she attempted to swallow the sticky ooze before any of it was lost. But it was impossible to swallow when she was being choked, and her failure resulted in the loss of his jizm over her lips and down her chin. It ran in a hot stream all the way down between her tits before Bernie was through coming and had pulled his satisfied cock from her mouth.
"Oh. .. that was goooood," he said.
The others were in no mood to listen to him. Andy, who had lost the jerking hand, leaped quickly to take Bernie's place in Tuesday's mouth. She had opened her swollen and come-drenched lips to accommodate the new cock, but Howard called time.
"Wait," he gasped. "It's time for us to change. I'll take the hand. Tony, you get the mouth. Andy, get the asshole, and Phil. .you can have her pussy.
Tuesday was too confused, and too hot to care which way they did it. She was relieved to have only one cock to jack; it was tiresome work on two. Now, with a free hand, she, herself could probe up Phil's asshole as he worked on her cunt.
Tony's cock, bigger around than she had grown accustomed to, seemed to have an unusual taste, acrid and a little bitter, and it was also slicker than any prick she had previously tasted. Then it came to her; she was tasting her own shit! Little bits of fecal matter had lodged on his tool as he swabbed her asshole, and then it was her privilege to clean it off with her tongue.
But there was no time for moralizing or serious reflection. She was working with four hot cocks, and all of them were throbbing violently as they built to a coming heat. Tuesday was near climax.
Tuesday began to hunch harder, and her jacking hand lost its rhythm. She flopped Howard's cock, jerking it too hard once and then not hard enough. He clasped his ringers over hers and tried to assist her in recapturing the stroke. But it was too late!
Waves of orgasm swept over the prostrate girl, and as she came, the satisfaction was poured out and shared with everyone except Howard. She bit down gently just behind Tony's cock head, and sucked with all her might. He screamed, first in pain and then in ecstasy. As the fire seared his balls, Tony unloaded a massive bolt of sticky paste into her mouth, and since his prick was short, Tuesday was able to swallow it all without losing a single precious drop.
Andy felt her asshole contract with almost as much biting power as Tony had felt in her mouth. He knew that he could not restrain himself from coming. So he closed his eyes and shortened his stroke to correspond with the rapid-tire hunching of her ass. As he came, Andy gave way to another urge. He released his pent-up asshole, and a long, tapered turd slithered out the opening and glided down his leg until it fell with a splatter beside him. Reacting swiftly, he maneuvered himself so he would not roll over on it. As he lay quietly ... quietly as he could, he marveled at having had the shit fucked out of him.
Phil, meanwhile, was laboring mightily in her pussy. Tony extracted his cock from her mouth, but Andy kept his buried in her asshole even after he had come.
Phil had better control than any of the others. He managed to force his mind to other things as he pumped his meat deep into her. Oh, it was good to him! When he saw that the others had came, he brought his mind to focus sharply on the activity at hand, and in only three feverish strokes, he started coming, firing his load deep into her cunt.
Tuesday's pussy, snapping and pinching as it had been, bit down with a vengeance when she felt his load splash into her womb. As he was working out his last spurt, she came for the third time, and then they all fell apart, panting and exhausted.
All, that is, except Howard. "Goddamn!" he cried out. "What about me?"
Tuesday was fucked out, but her innate sense of fair play told her that Howard must not go away with less than the rest. "Come on," she said with a concerned tone. "I'll fix you up. How do you want it?"
Howard paused. Finally he decided to take it in the asshole. "I never had a real bung job," he confessed. "Do you mind?"
"No," Tuesday said. "I'd rather have it there. I can't get pregnant is my rear end."
Howard mounted her backside. He carefully avoided the pile of shit which Andy had deposited on the tarp. It was a damn gross thing to do, Howard thought, and from then on, he would leave Andy at home. Shitting on his tarp! Ugh!
Howard's cock was as hard as it could get without breaking out of the skin, and it was also yew hot. He had been under constant stimulation for over an hour.
"I want to go in deep!" he said, puffing her ass up close to him. The soft cheeks of her ass against his body built his desire and robbed him of his cool reasoning power. Goddamn! He was in her asshole, and the thing was snapping and milking his cock.
Jesus, it was not going to be long.., no, by Christ, he was going to shoot off right now!
As he felt the come mounting, he drew his cock back for a horrendous plunge to the bottom. But he pulled back too far and the swollen head of his cock popped out of her asshole. By the time he realized the circumstances, he was already lunging forward, and the head of his tool buried itself in the crack of her ass, and the come roared out and drenched her externally. Her asshole was searching for his cock.
But, however far he fell short of the ultimate, Howard had come! And his scalp crawled with the goodness of the sensation.
As he spent his load, he released Tuesday, and she fell exhausted on the tarp. Though she had been somewhat forewarned by her sense of smell, she did not know there was a huge turd lying near, and she rolled over on it, smearing herself with shit from the waist down. Her buttocks were covered, and when she saw what had happened, she fell into uncontrollable sobbing.
Fucking Bobo for love was one thing, but gang-banging a five some of crude, shit-spewing clods was another.
Her conscience overwhelmed her.
Chapter Five
Chewing gum vigorously, Freda waved a nail file through the air, and swallowed hard. "Goddamn, after getting that sort of five-way screwing, it's a wonder you ever had good sense anymore."
Tuesday smiled. "Oh well, it wasn't so bad . . . After all, it gives a girl a kind of offbeat sense of distinction to have taken on a whole bunch of 'em at once."
"Yeah," Freda said, resuming her manicure. "I've been in on a few gang-bangs myself, but I only took 'em on one at a time."
"Afterward, I was sick as hell. They really didn't hurt me... not physically. But, shit, my conscience was killing me. You know, up until then, I had let that old lezzie gnaw on me, and I gave old Bobo pussy because I thought we were in love. But deep down inside of me, I still felt like fucking was wrong."
"You must have tried to kill yourself.. . jump in a lake or something."
"Naw, I didn't jump in a lake," Tuesday said. "After that, I was a long time feeling right. But everything I tried fucked up."
"Like what?"
"Well, I went to see the principal of our school.
You know the glasses-on-the-nose type of asshole?
I thought he was the kind of man who would help a girl in trouble."
Phineas Whitley was an educator, and if you happened to be assigned to his school.
Whitley was a curiously unattractive man from a physical standpoint. He was skinny and stooped and balding. He wore pince nez glasses perched on his too prominent nose, and his long, angular arms hung out of his too short sleeves. His trousers were never pressed, and there was clear evidence of his breakfast, or perhaps yesterday's lunch always present on his shirt front. He was particularly distinguished by his exceedingly long and dirty fingernails.
Mr. Whitley's detractors said he was a dirty, sodden incompetent son of a bitch who wasn't fit to shovel shit out of a pigpen with a decent pig watching. His defenders, anxious to let their own college degrees shine, said the man was traveling an esthetic plane far removed from the understanding of mere taxpayer.
Girls held him in awe because of his tender reading of such poetic giants as Robert Service. The guys said he was as queer as a three-dollar bill, and nobody in his right mind would take a piss with old Phineas in the head. He would peer over those gooney glasses and try to steal a peek at any prick he could find dangling over a urinal. He was not known to have lapped up on any specific dick, but the graffiti in the washrooms proclaimed without reservation or apology that "Whitley sucks!"
Tuesday's mother, however, was above such knowledge. Sucking, to her, was something a babe might do at its mother's breast. She had never considered the possibility of taking a rigid cock down her own throat.
"Listen, Tuesday," she always said. "Mr. Whitley is a gentleman ... gentle but strong. . . a man of God. Thanks be to God that he is there leading you. I know he isn't much to look at, but he is a man of great heart."
As the days lengthened into weeks after her encounter with Howard and his gang, gradually Tuesday came to consider the possibility that she might discuss her problem with Mr. Whitley.
But how to confess? Family, friends, and the pastor of her church were eliminated. None of them could understand. They would, she knew, judge rather than guide and direct.
Finally, after many sleepless nights while she battled with an almost overpowering desire to stroke the fuzzy surface of her cunt to arouse once again that precious feeling, she decided that she would take up her problem with Mr. Whitley. Gentle soul, patron of poets, lover, artists, psychologist, leader of people.
Seeing Mr. Whitley was no trouble. His office door was, he said, always open to any troubled student.
"Ah, yes, Tuesday," Mr. Whitley said, picking his nose delicately with his little finger, and then carefully examining the product of his effort before flicking it accurately into the wastebasket "What can I do to help you?" He coughed a glop of mucus from his sinus and spit loudly into a piece of paper which he balled up and tossed, again with surprising accuracy, into the trash can.
"Mr. Whitley, you're gonna think I'm awful," she began..."
"Tut, tut!" he said, his myopic eyes wandering up her bare thighs and stealing a covert glance at the brief expanse of panties which he glimpsed as she crossed her legs. "I'm sure you have done nothing of any serious nature."
"But I have," she said, "and I'm just sick over it. I can't even sleep at night!"
He coughed and spat again into a piece of paper. Whatever he had managed to hawk up that time was of considerable interest as he held it sideways to get a better light on it, and thereby exposed it to Tuesday. She averted her eyes and felt a tightening in her throat. God, she prayed, don't let me be sick!
"Well, why don't you tell me about it?" he asked, after he had again hit the waste basket.
"I've done the very worst thing you can think of," she said, " .. .and, a. . . well, I did it with a guy!"
"Yes sir. You know I uh . . well I let some guys... uh... well you know!"
He was seized by such a violent fit of coughing that his glasses fell off his nose, and when he finally brought up the offending matter, he rose from his seat and spat loudly and directly into the trash. "No," she asked, "I'm not certain I do know. Tell me more."
"We got naked," she said boldly, "and they did it to me."
"THEY?"
"Well, there were five of them the last time."
His eyebrows ran back over his head. "The last time? How about the first time?"
"Then it was only one... Bobo!"
"Bobo Wilder?" The eyes rose again. Goddamnit, he thought, here she's had the Wilder cock, and I've been trailing him into the john for two years trying just to catch a glimpse of his dick. Damn! "Uh, did Bobo hurt you much?"
"Yes sir! He broke my heart. That's how I got up with the other five."
"No... no! I don't mean did he hurt your feelings. I mean, did he hurt you when.. . uh. . .when he did it to you?"
"Hurt some, but once he got it in, oh, I tell you it was good!"
Whitley's droopy dick began to assert itself in his pants. He had at one time or another, probably sucked twenty dicks in his career as a teacher and principal, but he had never fucked one of the girls.
Girls didn't do too much for him, but this one might and her ass was the right shape, and she turned him on just talking about that luscious Bobo Wilder! Whew! God, he was getting carried away.
"Come around here, Tuesday, and let me talk to you closer."
Obediently, Tuesday uncrossed her legs, again showing him a flash of white nylon crotch and rose to move around to the executive side of his desk. She leaned her buttocks against the desk within easy reach of his hands which Whitley was having problems keeping controlled in his lap. As she neared him, she noted that on the left side of his nose there grew a monstrous mole, out of which grew two bristly hairs. Tuesday was fascinated.
He pushed his cock down in his lap.
"Hummmm! Let me see now. You have had...uh...well...intercourse with Bobo Wilder and then later with... how many? Five other guys?"
"That's right. The five were all at once, too."
"How could that be?"
She explained to him in detail the way Howard, Andy, Bernie, Tony and Phil had fucked her.
Whitley became excited, and his hands trembled in his lap. His cock was hard, and his throat was dry as desert dust. When she reached the part of her story where the guys changed positions, Whitley advanced a tentative hand that slid up her left leg until his fingers disappeared under her miniskirt.
Tuesday noticed, of course, but since it Was Mr. Whitley, she did not make any objection. She thought he was merely trying to put her at ease.
However, when his hand reached the bottom of her panties, and he began to insert his finger in the elastic, Tuesday shifted about uncomfortably.
"Here, Tuesday," he said, reaching for her with his free hand. "Come and sit on my lap while we talk. Heaven knows, you have had a terrible experience."
The sympathetic words had a magic effect on Tuesday. He did understand. In gratitude, she not only flung herself in his lap, but she wrapped her arms about his neck, and buried her embarrassed face in the hollow of his shoulder. What's more, she sat firmly on his fully erected cock, and caused sweat to break out on his face.
"I just knew you would understand," she said.
"Of course," he murmured, allowing his hand again to reach up and probe under the tight leg opening of her panties. "I wonder if you would be good enough to remove your panties? I would like to look to see if there has been any damage done to your private parts."
"Oh, no, there hasn't been."
"Perhaps not," he insisted smoothly, "but I would like to see to make sure. You don't want to take a chance of being disfigured or ruined for life."
Tuesday stood up and pulled her panties off. She placed them on his desk. How beautiful her flesh was. . . rose-colored in the right places. She held her skirt up around her waist so that he could see her delicate thighs, and the furred area of her cunt. On the backside, where her legs swept upward and flared into her rosy and firm buttocks, Whitley traced the outline of her ass with a cupped hand.
"Get back up on the desk," he said hornily. "Sit upon it this time. I want to. . .uh. . .well, I must check the inside of your vagina."
"Okay," she agreed. "It was pretty sore for a long time, but it's all right now. I haven't played with it or anything since that last time. I'm trying to be a good girl."
"I know you are," he said, fastening his lecherous old eyes on the red slash of her pussy. "Just lie back there on the desk," he ordered, shoving all his papers onto the floor.
"Now, spread your legs apart. That's it... Oooooh!"
"What's the matter?" she asked anxiously.
"Nothing! Noting!" he said. "It's just fine." He pushed the pouting lips of her pussy apart and looked up into the gash as far as he could. She felt the sharpness of his fingernails against her tender cuntlips and flinched slightly.
"Tuesday," he said. "Before I give you a clean bill of health, I must check the inside of your vagina. There is only one way to be certain you are not permanently impaired. I must go into it just as the others have, but in this case, purely as an experiment to assist you to feel good again. We have to know the conditions inside."
She was horrified at the prospect, and yet, her cunt was in need. Tuesday, nevertheless, acquiesced quickly. "Yes, sir, Mr. Whitley. I'm willing for you to do anything if you can just tell me I'm all right, and can be a nice girl again."
He stood up, and she could plainly see the imprint of his cock. Golly, he did have a big one, but it was probably not much longer than Hobo's, and no bigger around than Tony's. And best of all, he was not going to stick his prick in her in a sinful way. He was just going to check her out.
"Pull my zipper down," he ordered as he allowed his glasses to fall off, and suspend themselves on the ribbon about his neck. He stood up close to the desk so that Tuesday could reach his fly without raising up.
She jerked his zipper to the bottom, and fished inside to bring out his cock. It was tangled up in the old-fashioned, one-piece underwear which he wore. As Tuesday continued her effort to remove his cock, a rank and offensive odor struck her nostrils. It was the smell of unwashed and sweaty flesh.
She knew without being told that Whitley's balls were sweaty, and that he had not bathed his crotch area in perhaps weeks. Nevertheless, she persisted, fighting down her revulsion for his unclean body.
Finally, as he backed his ass away and caused his dick to free itself from the folds of his piss-stained underwear, Tuesday was able to pull his cock out into the light. God Almighty! What a horrible piece of meat it was! Not only did it exude a highly offensive odor, but it had a dangling, pendulous foreskin the likes of which Tuesday had never seen before.
As soon as she saw how indescribably ugly his cock was, she dropped it from her hand, and without thinking, wiped the palm off on her dress.
The motion was not lost on Whitley, but he didn't take offense. He was not concerned at what she thought. All he wanted was to ram his rusty old cock into her fresh pussy and to feel the hot meat of her cunt bite down on it. He was not a great cunt lover; he preferred the throb of a cock in his mouth, but when he was aroused, he could fuck any hole.
"Now, Tuesday," he said. "Will you guide it into your vagina?"
She spread her legs, opening her pussy as wide as it would go. He walked into the opening, and Tuesday grabbed his horrible old cock again, and tried to skin it back and forth to loosen it up. Then she discovered that the foreskin was grown over the head, and that it would not skin back. More disconcerting was the fact that his cock was dry, and her pussy was not producing cooze oil.
Tuesday decided to do her best under the circumstances. She parted her pussy lips then, and guided the head of his cock into the mouth of the opening with her other hand. As soon as Whitley felt his cock in the hole, he seized the desk and began to push. He wiggled and she twisted, and they both shoved as hard as they could, but the damn cock was too big and too dry to go in.
"Maybe if you would suck me some, it would get wet and go in," Tuesday suggested.
"Please," he gasped, backing away horrified. "I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. It's a crime against nature to put one's mouth on a vagina. We must think of something else."
Tuesday could not think of anything else, so she remained silent.
Then Whitley, whose cock had dropped to about half-mast, clapped his hand on the desk. "If we can't get into your pussy," he said, "there is one other way."
"What?"
"Let me get Bobo Wilder here in the office." He depressed a key on his communications box, and told the girl in the outer office to send for Bobo.
While they waited for Bobo to arrive, Whitley suggested that Tuesday stroke his dick and balls until he was once again fully erected.
There was a knock on the door. Whitley sat down in his chair, hiding his nasty old, cheese-laden cock. He motioned for Tuesday to remain on the desk with her cunt bared. "Who is it?" he demanded.
"Bobo Wilder."
"Come in," Whitley ordered. "And close the door."
To say that Bobo was surprised when he saw Tuesday bare-assed on the desk would be the understatement of the century. He was struck dumb.
Mr. Whitley, inspirational leader that he was, moved to put the guy at ease.
"Come over here, Bobo," he said. "You know Tuesday Noir, I believe?"
Bobo nodded silently, as he fixed his gaze at Tuesday's exposed pussy. He was a little afraid, but since he had not had any pussy or even beat his meat for nearly a week, he had to be interested in what he saw from a sexual standpoint. No matter how unusual or bizarre the circumstances, a monster-cocked, guy has got to be intrigued by a bare pussy.
"Tuesday tells me that you have had intercourse with her."
Bobo looked at Whitley blinking, and then for some reason, he was nodding his head truthfully.
"Well then, you know that she has been badly disturbed by it all, and she has come to me for reassurance. I am trying to ascertain if her physical well being has been disturbed. There is only one way I can be sure. I want you to get your clothes off, and probe into her vagina for me with your prick."
Bobo was scared. Goddamn, people don't fuck in a school principal's office! He stood immobile. Then he noted that Whitley was sitting in a peculiar position, and in a flash it came to him that the old son of a bitch had his own cock out. This revelation was further borne out in Bobo's mind by the smell which permeated the room. Tuesday's cunt did not smell. It had to be Whitley's cock.
What the hell was the old bastard up to? Well, it really didn't matter. Bobo knew he had to do what he was told. If he didn't, God knows what Whitley would do about his fucking Tuesday. Expel him? Send him to a reform school? Tell Tuesday's mother?
Bobo began to get his clothes off.. When he was naked from the waist down, Whitley motioned for him to come to the side of the desk where his cock would be clearly visible. Tuesday lay back down on the desk.
Bobo's cock was a beautiful thing compared to the gnarled old stink pole concealed in Whitley's lap. Bobo's legs were firm and well muscled, and his balls were symmetrical. Whitley licked his lips in appreciation of a fine cock. But it was not hard.
In fact, Tuesday began to wonder. She had never seen Bobo's dick soft. Golly, it had a certain helpless quality about it which made her pussy juice at the sight. No! No! She must not let herself be aroused. Bobo had caused her enough trouble.
"Will you please get your tool erected?" Whitley was saying to Bobo. "You cannot probe her vagina with it dangling there as it is!"
Bobo reached for his cock and began to flop it about. He was not turned on by the situation, but he thought he might be if Tuesday would play with him until he got a hard-on. Wordlessly, he placed his prick in her hand, and she began to jerk it as she had on so many previous occasions. She had not pulled his cock more than a dozen times before Bobo was as hard as he was likely to get. A small droplet of oil had appeared at the eye of his cock.
Bobo was hot and had almost forgotten about Mr. Whitley. His eyes gazed as he looked at Tuesday's open pussy. God, how good the thing looked. Oh, he would be glad to probe her snatch!
Bobo walked between Tuesday's legs, guiding his prick into the mouth of her snatch. With a deft shove, he slammed his cock to its full depth.
Tuesday gasped, and reached out with her hands to take him about the body. She also tried to lock her feet behind his back, but Whitley prevented her from doing so. He wanted her to allow her legs to dangle as Bobo fucked her.
And fuck her he did! He poured the meat into her hole, and the two of them were in great passion when Whitley leaped into the act. He stood up, and jerked oh his cock until he extracted a wad of pre-coital jizm from the mouth.
As Bobo was busy pumping the prick into Tuesday, he was suddenly disconcerted when he felt a hot cock ramming into his asshole.
Goddamnit! Nobody had ever put a dick in Bobo Wilder!
"Wait a fucking minute," he said, turning his head, but keeping his cock in Tuesday. "Whatcha doing, you old fart?"
"You mind what you're doing," Whitley said fiercely. "And keep the cheeks of your ass relaxed."
Bobo hesitated, and then went on fucking Tuesday.
It was difficult going. Bobo was thrashing about fucking wildly, and what's more his asshole was slammed tightly shut. But Whitley was resourceful. He was, of course, opposed in principle to the licking or lapping of a pussy, but he had no such qualms about tonguing a male asshole. But, when he found the entrance to Bob's tailpipe bared, without hesitation he fell to his knees. He forced the cheeks of the guy's ass apart, and he shoved his mole-bearing nose up there and licked the brown hole with great vigor.
Bobo was only human. With his cock in a cunt and a tongue on his asshole, he was getting hotter. The more wildly he fucked, the greater became Tuesday's passion, and as Whitley licked Bobo's asshole, he was beating his meat with maniacal fury. Jesus, wouldn't the school board shit?
When Bobo got ready to come he slammed his cock to the right, then to the left, and then with a great ball-bearing plunge, he drove it all the way home down the middle, and exploded his load as he hit bottom. Tuesday reached climax at the same moment, and as they locked in coming embrace, Whitley was forced out of Bobo's ass, but he did not slacken the pace of his own masturbation. He was about to come too, and he didn't want to miss it. But he did want to enhance it.
He dropped his cock for a moment and pulled an amazed Bobo off Tuesday. By the sheer surprise of his attack he was able to bend the teen backward over the desk. Bobo's come-spewing cock was flopping about, and Whitley caught it in his mouth and sucked with his full strength as he resumed his cock flopping under the desk. Bobo's cock was so sensitive after coming inside Tuesday that he had been ready to scream, when Whitley shot his smelly old load on the floor, releasing Bobo's cock from his mouth as quickly as he had taken it.
God, what a scene it was in the office! Come all over everything. The desk was soaked with pussy drippings, and the three of them were embarrassed.
Tuesday was beside herself. How could old
Whitley be such an asshole? Oh, she could kill him. He was sitting stupidly in his chair with his cock draining on his pants, looking at Bobo's declining cock as the teen put his clothes on again.
"I guess I better get back to class," Bobo said lamely, and all but ran out the door.
"You seem to be all right, Tuesday," Whitley said, stuffing his prick into his soiled underwear. "Uh, just go ahead, and forget all about the things which have happened, particularly today. It was just an experiment which turned out well. You are all right!"
"You're a dirty old man!" she said, getting her panties on again. "I know you. You're a queer and a son of a bitch! I'll tell my mother!"
"Do that," he said sneering. "And I'll send you and Bobo both to the training school. Best you forget it all, and go ahead. You'll be fucking the rest of your life anyhow, so why worry about it?"
Chapter Six
"Can you feature that old bastard telling me that, after what he had done?" Tuesday asked Freda. "He was probably the guy who started my craziness.
"Well, it could be worse," Freda said philosophically. "Hell, you're eating."
"That's right," Tuesday said, gingerly feeling the bites in her cunt area.
"I'm eating just about anybody who comes along, and they're eating me... literally. Jesus, I wish I was young again and could just fuck. When you get old, people think you got no feeling, no pride. Hell, I don't like being the trick artist in a whore house. I get all the fucked-up perverts who want to hurt me some way to get their kicks. I don't mind fucking, and okay, I'll suck too. But this taking door knobs and having some guy want to put his big toe up my asshole. Goddamn, there's just no end to the kooks."
"What about the guy I sent you last night?"
"Yeah," Tuesday said, raising up. "Now, there's what I'm talking about. This silly bastard wants to get under the covers and have me fart so he could smell it. That's how he gets his."
Freda laughed and rolled on the bed. "Goddamn, that's funny. How in the name of God do you fart on cue?"
Tuesday smiled ruefully. "You'd be surprised what you can do when you get the price up to a hundred. I got right over his face and strained like hell. I figured it would be a little fart if it came at all, and I wanted him to smell a hundred dollars worth if I made it."
"Did you make it?"
"Well I strained like hell and couldn't fart to save my life."
"Aw, that's too bad!"
"I did manage to shit in his face!"
Freda looked to see if Tuesday was serious. When it was obvious the truth was being told, Freda howled in wild laughter again. "Did he pay off?"
"Hell yeah! He only thought he wanted somebody to fart under the coven. When that turd hit him right between the eyes, his cock leaped up and I'll swear to you, he shot come up past my tits. Now, he'll never ask anybody else to fart under the covers. He'll pay a hundred to have you shit in his face. It's easier, believe me, but I'll be damned if it ain't a hell of a feeling to know the only affection you can create is with your asshole."
"Oh, you're just feeling bad tonight," Freda said. "It'll look brighter in the morning. You know, I never realized you were so bitter about this kind of business. Why the hell didn't you marry some guy and settle down on the straight side?"
"Shit, I tried that. After old Whitley got through with me, I kept my pants on pretty well. . . oh, I'd fuck now and then when I needed it, but not like most of the other girls. Hell, I was a damn virgin compared to all the rest in high school. But I always wanted to fuck after Bobo put that thing in me the first time. So, when I was nineteen, and just out of high school, I decided the best thing I could do was marry the first decent guy that asked me. His name was Lance Norris."
Lance Norris was not handsome; he was pretty in a clean, wholesome sort of way. He had flashing blue eyes and a curly shock of blond curls.
Lance had clawed his way up out of south Georgia, and when Tuesday met him, he was collecting an insurance debit in Norfolk, Virginia.
She first noticed him at a Saturday night dance. He was some kind of good looking. And it was Tuesday who maneuvered to meet him. Tuesday was crafty enough to lure him along without allowing him to make any passes. He kept his hands doff her tits and didn't try to sneak up her dress to make manual contact with her pussy.
Lance was a hard worker, dedicated to his job. This virtue of accepting work, plus his rigid adherence to the stern Baptist code, doomed him to marriage just as quickly as Tuesday could maneuver him into asking her.
It took about six weeks, and she hesitated just ten seconds before she gave him a resounding "Yes" and sealed the bargain with a soul kiss which scared the living shit out of him.
Tuesday hoped she had not been too brazen. But Lance smiled his brightest; and encircled her waist with a protective arm. God, it was certainly nice to be in love.
Love and marriage, however, are generally mutually exclusive, and Tuesday began to get the little shocks on their first honeymoon night.
Tuesday could hardly wait to see him naked. She was curious about the size and talent of his cock. She was ready, but hardly ready for Lance's abrupt change when the door swung shut.
"I want you to undress me," he said, but there was brittle hardness in his voice. "I'd like for you to tear my clothes to shreds!" His voice was rising and his eyes glinting. "Rip 'em off! Let me hear 'em tear!"
Tuesday tried to laugh, but the sound died in her throat. Hell, the guy was definitely not kidding. He wanted his clothes torn off. So, okay! Everybody has his own kick.
Tuesday grabbed his shirt and jerked downward as hard as she could. The buttons snapped off, and she was pleased to feel the cloth rip.
Lance laughed, delightedly, and Tuesday saw a trace of cock rising inside his pants.
She seized his pants after unzipping the fly, and jerked as hard as she could but it was tough to tear them. Lance, however, squirmed about and let them fall about his ankles.
"Hurry," he commanded. "Tear off my shorts!" Tuesday managed to rip away the clothes with one sweep, and there was his cock! Jesus, she almost fainted and then she thought she might throw up. It was a massive hunk of manmeat, maybe a sturdy eight inches. It was also considerably heavier in circumference. than the prick. It had been circumcised, and the bulbous head was manifestly larger than the shaft. But these were normal characteristics of any human cock. Beyond that, Lance was horribly mutilated.
Running from the base of the shaft and out to the back of the head was a livid, purple scar at least a quarter of an inch wide. There were several deep incisive scars about the shaft, and the head was battered out of its smooth shape and it looked like a cauliflower ear. There was scar tissue growing over the head, and the whole thing was swollen so much out of proportion that at first glance, Tuesday was afraid there was no hole in the end.
Lance's balls were the swinging kind, and the sac was a purple-black as though it had sustained serious bruises. His left ball was swollen to at least twice the size of an ordinary testicle, and the right one looked atrophied. It was no larger than a good-sized pea. On his lower stomach and upper thighs, as well as on his cock, there were a number of fresh scratches and Tuesday felt certain some of the wounds had been cause by teeth.
"Great God!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter with it?"
"Nothing, It's just fine. Now, come on and get down on it. I want to see some blood! Listen," he said, grabbing her by the hair, "get down on my cock and eat it. I said eat it! Don't suck it! I hate to have my cock sucked. I want you to bite it. Goddamn, hurry, make it bleed!"
"Jesus Christ, Lance, if I were to bite into a cock as hard as yours, you'd bleed to death."
"Aaaahh!" he said. "You do know something about sucking cocks. Don't bite into the shaft or very deep into the head. Pull some of the loose skin up in your mouth and bite that. Scrape your teeth over the head. That will make it bleed. Bleed! Do you hear me? God! Get down on my cock and make it bleed!"
He was almost screaming as he pushed her toward his crotch and fell back on the bed.
Tuesday would have been delighted to give him a trip around the world. Lance was a magnificent man. Only his battered cock was less than perfect. She was thoroughly frightened by what he had said.
"Hurry and bite it," he said, shivering and twitching in expectation. "I'm so hot, and I can't really get myself worked up until I see the blood! Oooooh! That's it! Bite my cock. Oh, Jesus, bite it! Bite it off! Go ahead. . . oh, look at the blood. Look at the blood! It's beautiful... BEAUTIFUL!"
Tuesday was aware of the bitter taste in her mouth, and she knew it was blood from his dick. She had chewed a piece out of the shaft, and even though she had always been a come-swallower, never spitting out the precious semen juice when it washed into her mouth, she was reluctant to swallow the blood. Lance saved her from making any sacrifice in this direction.
"Now, now!" he screamed. "Lick the blood over my balls. That's the way. Wash my balls in blood. Oh, Jesus, this is good! Rake your teeth over the head. We gotta have more blood! More blood! Blood out of the head is hotter, than blood out of the stem. Oh! OH! OOOOH! Goddamn. Great!"
Tuesday was not turned on at all. She had been excited about his body, and she had managed to work up a little juice inside her pussy, but the dick-biting and blood-letting doused her sexual fire.
Lance was going into convulsions on the bed. He bucked and jumped, and cried, and real tears flowed down his cheeks as his cock jumped and throbbed in Tuesday's mouth. She tried not to suck it, but it was hard not to. Lance did not seem to notice her lapses. All he did was call for more blood.
"Okay! Okay! Now get ready 'cause I'm fixing to come," he shouted. "Hey, hang a fingernail in my asshole. Hurry! Hurry! Now, ram it in my asshole, and when I scream and start to come, jerk the edge of your fingernail hard down on the mouth of my ass. I want it to bleed! Hear me! It ain't any good coming if your asshole don't bleed too!"
Automatically, as though she were a zombie, Tuesday rammed her finger up Lance's asshole. He went out of his mind. He screamed a long, piercing wail, and jerked about so violently that Tuesday cut a couple of new bleeding gashes on his cock. And she knew he was about to blow his rocks. His prick was so hard, and thumping with every beat of his excited heart.
"Okay!" he yelled.. "Tear my asshole out! Tear it now!"
Tuesday jerked her sharp fingernail against the side of his rectum, and she felt the spurt of hot blood squirt out over her hand and wrist. Then, mixed in with the blood drooling from his dick, Tuesday tasted the unmistakable salt of his come. In this respect, at least, he was like everyone else. He did shoot off, and it did taste okay. Tuesday swallowed the come, blood and all, and she was immediately sorry and afraid.
"You swallowed it!" he roared. "Goddamn it, don't you ever do that again! You lick that stuff up my asshole. That's what come is for. I always get my come up my asshole. It keeps me looking young. Goddamn you bitch! Wasting my come down your miserable throat!"
Long through the night, Tuesday lay awake and cried silent, bitter tears while Lance slept beautifully. He was such a pretty sight lying there in his blond innocence. Goddamn! The miserable perverted son of a bitch! Tuesday cursed her luck.
Try as she might, it seemed the whole world was stacked against her when she wanted to make a decent life for herself. Now, mated to Lance was like being caged with a wild animal. Well, she would try it for a while, but in her heart, Tuesday knew that Lance was a loser, and would sooner or later have to go.
All the men in the world.., nice, ordinary guys with swinging pricks who would appreciate a wife who would fuck with enthusiasm, and she got Lance! Ugh! It was sickening, and there was nobody she could talk to. She had not been much for confiding in anyone since her episode in the principal's office. Now, more than ever before, Tuesday felt alone, and she cried!
Chapter Seven
Freda's eyes were bugged out as she listened to Tuesday. "God! I never heard tell of any man that crazy.
"Oh, he was something," Tuesday said sadly. "I guess I would have killed myself in the first month if it hadn't been for our neighbors. Or at least the guy who lived next door. His wife was a tight-pussied tease who gave him the hot nuts all the time, and ten wouldn't give up any pussy. Hell, I saw this the day we moved in the apartment, and I guess he knew that I understood his situation. I kinda felt like he might be the solution to at least a part of my problems."
"I bet you were real frustrated."
"I really needed to get some regular dick. Of course, now, if I never saw another hard dripping cock, it would be too soon. But then.. well, I was young and had a hot cunt, and I had married to make fucking legal. Then I had to turn around and go about as illegal as you can get. I was fucking this neighbor, Rick Ainsley, right in his own house."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Oh, noting, I don't guess. But I was kinda brought up to think folks ought not to shit in their own nest, and he was dropping a turd in his about every day, and three or four times on Sunday. His wife got more bitchy all the time. She didn't know we were fucking, but she did soon find out that he was not subject to teasing, and this, of course, pissed her off somewhat. But Rick was really the best guy I ever knew.
Bick Ainsley was a big man. Not a towering height, though he did measure a full six feet. But his massive body was a study in bull strength. Although thirty-five, he was beginning, to show a slight thickness about the middle, but there was still the grace of an athlete in his movements.
Bick's arms were massive, and his short stubby fingers gave a decided impression of strength. He cut his hair short, and while he was by no means good looking in the sense that Lance could claim, he exuded an animalistic maleness which most women, except for his wife, found captivating.
Tuesday was attracted to him because of her desperate need, and the recognition that he, too, had made a bad bargain at the altar. They began with casual conversation in the yard, and after a couple of days, had become friends to the extent that he came to her place for a cup of coffee and she went to his, for a drink before dinner. She had chewed Lance's cock into a bloody mess two days
before and he was still unable to go again.
In fact, Tuesday had scared herself when she saw the massive bleeding. Lance loved it, and after he came, he would not stop the flow. For a time, it appeared that he would have to see a doctor, and he would have, except he could not think of any lie which would explain the condition of his cock, and he was reluctant to tell the truth. Eventually, his cock had sealed itself, but he was out of commission indefinitely.
Lance was out after some of his delinquent insurance premiums, and Rick's wife, Amy, had gone away for an evening of bridge. It was natural that the two left at home would get together, and in less than two drinks, they were frankly telling each other the extent and depth of their troubles.
Bick looked Tuesday squarely in the eye. "Listen," he said. "I'm a square-shooting guy, but I've had it with Amy. No jury in the world would convict me if I strangled her, if I could tell what I've been through. And you. . shit, you could shoot that lousy rat and probably get a medal."
"Maybe," Tuesday admitted, "but neither one of 'em is worth all that. Maybe we can help each other."
His licked his lips, and reached to take her hand. "Tuesday, you're a good scout," he said a little thickly. "I'd like to make love to you. . . right here . . . tonight."
There was a rough tenderness in his voice which deeply affected Tuesday. "Yes, yes, I think I would like that, Rick," she answered. "But do we dare?"
"I do!" he said fiercely. "Come on, let's go in the bedroom. There's no use for us to be miserable always."
When they got into the bedroom, Bick took Tuesday in his arms. He was so powerful and strong that he could have crushed her, but he held her tenderly and pulled her close to his firm body.
Then, as she allowed her head to tilt back, he kissed her. It was a hungry, searching kiss, flaming with need and desire. They held their lips together for a long time, and then Bick eased his tongue out to flick caressingly over her mouth.
Tuesday responded by pressing in hard with her hips, forcing her pubic area to mash against his cock. His prick was hard and standing, and she was thrilled to feel it lying against his stomach. As they continued the kissing, they began to rub and hunch slightly in the pussy-to-prick relationship they had established through their clothes.
Bick broke off the kiss, and held her tightly. He moved his fingers to the catch on her skirt, and in a matter of minutes, it had dropped to the floor and she had stepped out of it. The rest of her clothes followed quickly.
When she was naked, he again pulled her into his embrace, and allowed his hands to wander up and down her back, smoothing downward until he scooted up and over her buttocks. Tuesday was firm and well constructed. She was soft, yes, but in a molded sort of way. Rick made little cooing noises as he stroked her ass, and she twisted about, pushing her tithes against him.
Gently but firmly, Bick forced her away from him. She sat on the edge of the bed.
He sat down on a hassock, and began to remove his shoes. Tuesday felt tears spring into her eyes. Here was the first man who had ever been really good to her, and at once, she loved him. She jumped to her feet, and walking toward him, she took his head and crushed it between her titties.
He dropped his shoe, and swept his arms about her buttocks, and pulled her tight.
They held the pose for perhaps thirty seconds, and then Tuesday stepped back. "Hurry," she whispered. "I want you so very much!"
"And I want you," he said.
When Bick was finally divested of all his clothes, Tuesday thought she had never seen such a striking man. He was heavily framed, and the muscles rippled over his body like power cords. And his most striking, single attribute was the cock which leaped out of his patch of pubic hair like a missile on a launching pad.
Bick's cock was what a woman would expect on a real man. It was eight inches long, and as big around as the base of a Coke bottle. He had a fine foreskin which skinned back automatically as soon as he got an erection.
At that time, he had a skin-splitting hard-on which ached and hurt as he looked at Tuesday's supple body.
They came together again, and he gently eased her down to the bed. His right leg went between hers, and the hard muscle of his thigh was forced against her juicing pussy.
Tuesday was so hot, so totally consumed by desire for this man that she felt slightly dizzy. It was an overpowering feeling. His leg against her snatch soothed her wounded spirit. He was kissing her again with great passion, and she wriggled against his leg, driving shafts of ecstasy into her cunt.
Rick lowered his head, and sought refuge in her tits. Her tits were swollen and the nipples stood out. The wide circle of brown which framed her pink nipples was in sharp contrast to the whiteness of her breasts. Truly, Tuesday's titties were lovely.
As Bick took her left breast into her eager mouth, Tuesday felt a?gush of hot oil slime out of her cunt. Oh, how she hated to waste the precious juice! But she knew Bick would make her juice more and more.
He was probing in her ass crack with insistent fingers. He knew the value of an asshole in love. He knew that inside the rectum of an aroused female there lies a nest of sensitive nerves.
As his mouth sucked and toyed with her tits, Rick gently inserted his middle finger into her asshole. Tuesday almost died in sheer rapture. The man knew what he was doing.
Though they were to fuck countless times before the end of their affair, Tuesday never became accustomed to the delicious thrill which Rick would wrest from her asshole by simply inserting his finger into her shithole and rotating it.
She was gasping for breath, and trying to get a hand around his cock. Ah, she got it! And it was the biggest prick she had ever touched as far as its girth was concerned.
Goddamn! He thought of how sweet that meat would be, rammed up her cunt, and she hoped that it would eventually go into her tail hole as well. But it never did. Rick kept his cock for her pussy.
He let his mouth slide down her stomach and kissed her full in the navel. Certainly, no one had made her pussy ooze by fingering her navel. But Brick again was an expert. He sank his tongue into her navel, and she gasped for breath, for as his tongue went down, his finger diddled deep in her asshole.
"Oh, Bick," she cried. "Let me have it! I really want your cock. Please, don't make me wait another second!"
"If you're ready," he said, "I'll put it in. God knows, I wouldn't tease you. When the time comes, we must always go together, pussy to prick, and try to come together."
"Ooooh! Wonderful! Wonderful!" She was thrashing about, waving her arms spastically as he sank his cockmeat into her gash. Of course, Tuesday's pussy was stretched to accommodate the big-shafted cock, and there was a certain amount of pain with the insertion. But Tuesday did not mind. His big prick rubbed so nicely on her clitoris, and it was almost too good to stand.
Once Rick was in to his full depth, he pulled out about two inches, and worked the deep stroke like that for perhaps a minute. He could see that Tuesday was ready to come.
"Go ahead and come when you feel like it;" he said, kissing her passionately.
"Don't ever hold back. Get it on the upswing when it's the very best."
Tuesday wrapped her legs about his back and locked her feet. Thus, her cunt was held up off the bed, and his activity in her asshole was made easier and more productive. Orgasm was imminent for them both, and he began to pull his cock further and further back and the length of his stroke was at maximum when they blew off together.
When he began to feel Tuesday's pussy biting on his cock, Rick knew that she was coming.
Jesus, she had never had such an orgasm.
When it was over, Rick lay lightly on top of her, supporting himself on his elbows and his knees; he let his cock soak, and every once in a while he would wiggle it slightly. Then, as his cock began to decline, he lifted himself off her, and withdrew his meat. Quickly, he produced a towel and shoved it between her legs.
"That'll keep it from running out on the bed," he said. "You wouldn't want to sleep in a wet spot."
"But, fuck," she laughed. "I'm not sleeping here. I live next door, remember?"
His face fell. "Yeah. I remember. I wish I could forget!"
In spite of having to bite Lance's cock almost every day, Tuesday was happier than she had ever been before. And as love will always find a way, hate is a fairly skillful improviser.
Tuesday found that the best way to keep Lance's cock out of her mouth was to cut it up so much he was forced to take a rest. He was no fool; he knew what she was doing.
Once in a burst of optimism, Tuesday asked Lance why he didn't just get a rusty old knife and slice his own cock.
"Big fucking deal," he sneered. "I guess you would like to have a brown handle to work up your snatch in place of that creep next door with his cock!"
Stung, she opened her mouth to make an angry retort, but decided it wasn't worth it.
Bick's capacity for lovemaking was seemingly limitless, and their opportunities were almost the same. Lance was not a problem as long as he got his cock chewed. Amy was staying away from home more and mare, always playing cards pr giving her time to civic affairs.
As the relationship between Rick and Tuesday deepened and ripened, there was no further demand made on Amy. At first she had been amused, believing that he was exercising a tremendous amount of self-control. Later, however, Amy had to confess to herself that the son of a bitch must be getting a lot of pussy somewhere else. Huh, probably that Tuesday hussy from next door.
Well, she didn't care. But if she ever caught them, she would, by God, go right over and fuck that darling Lance to death. She laughed as she thought of how jealous and mad Rick would be at that.
And so, it went on for nearly a year. Tuesday kept hoping Rick would say something about a divorce and suggest that she get one too. But he didn't. And in a way, Tuesday was relieved. She was really afraid of Lance. God knows what he might do.
One night, while she was chewing cock and the blood was washing out of her mouth and dripping down on his balls, Tuesday pulled her lips off his prick, and said:
"What would you do, if I divorced you?"
He drew his hand back and struck her a ringing blow just above the ear with the heel of his palm. It sent her reeling across the room and she bounced off the wall. Quickly, he was on top of her, and he stunned her with a series of vicious cuffs about the head. Then, he drew back his foot and kicked her squarely in the cunt. She screamed in pain and fainted.
When she came around, the room was dark, and she knew that Lance had gone out. Painfully, she dragged herself to the bathroom and was appalled at the horrible bruises which appeared on her face. God! How she hated that mongrel son of a bitch!
After checking to make certain Amy's car was gone, she went next door and unfolded her horrible story to Rick. His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed.
"Listen," he said. "You can't go back there tonight. Here, take my car and go down to a motel. Go to the Whispering Pines Court. A guy I know runs it. Get some ice and put it on your face. I'll come down later."
"Oh, Rick, go with me now!"
"No, you go ahead," he said. "I'll come along later. I've. . . Oh.. . got a couple of things to look after."
When she had gone, Bick took up a vigil at his front window; He wanted to be certain he would catch Lance when he came home.
About eleven o'clock, Lance sauntered into the yard. He had been out walking off his anger. Goddamn. Just as he was getting hot, the cunt started talking that shit about divorce. She must be crazy. Why in God's name would any woman want to divorce a man as pretty as he was?
No sooner was he in the house, than Rick knocked on the door.
"Hi," Bick said pleasantly. "Looks like we're by ourselves. Why don't we have a drink?"
"Sure," Lance said. "Come on in."
They sipped a couple of vodka martinis and made small talk, and then Bick decided to play his trump card. "Hey, listen; You're a doll of a guy. You know I been looking at you for months. I just can't take it any more. I got to suck your cock. How about it?"
Lance smiled to himself. Well, he got 'em all. Women and men. They all wanted some of him. "If you'll suck it like I say."
Bick licked his lips eagerly. "Man, if you'll let me have it, I'll do anything you want. Anything."
"Don't suck it," Lance said. "Bite it. Bite it 'til it bleeds."
"Yeah! That sounds great!" Bick said. "Get naked."
Lance was happy. Tuesday had fouled him up, and here was her lover-queer as a seven-dollar bill-slobbering to get his mouth on his bruised prick.
Lance figured a guy as strong as Rick would do a hell of a job. He wouldn't be chicken shit. He would bite the damn thing.
By the time Lance was naked, his cock was as hard as it had ever been, and there was a droplet of jizm spilling out the end. He was ready to be chewed on.
Five minutes later, the neighborhood was shocked by a loud, piercing scream which rang out from Lance's apartment; followed by the violent slamming of a door. Neighbors who peered out to see the source of the disturbance, saw Rick walking swiftly down the front walk, and running toward the Whispering Pines.
Tuesday heard his knock, and rushed breathlessly to the door. Oh, she needed him so much. When she opened the door, she recoiled in horror. Bick was drenched in blood from the neck of his shirt to the waist, and there was blood on his face as well.
"God, Bick, what's happened to you? My God. Come in! I'll call a doctor or an ambulance!"
"Never mind," he said wearily. "It's not my blood. It's Lance's
"Lance's? How . . . what. . ."
"He'll never bother you again. I just bit his cock off right at the base. It was hard and he'll bleed to death before anybody can help him. Your troubles are over."
"But you know," Tuesday said to Freda, a little misty, "they snatched Bick up and tried him for murder, and it was all so bad and embarrassing that he killed himself in his jail cell. So, I was a widow.. . more for Bick than Lance, but after it was all aver, Freda, I was out on my ass and broke as a. convict. What the hell could I do? I didn't know how to make a living. The only thing I had to sell was pussy. But I didn't want to be a whore. So I tried like hell, I really did!"
Chapter Eight
"God, you really had some bad breaks," Freda told Tuesday, shaking her head. "After all that, what did you do?"
After Lance was buried (his dick was carefully wrapped and placed in the inside of his coat when they laid him out), and he was sent off, Tuesday surveyed the situation, and concluded that marriage was out forever.
No more Lances, and she would not allow herself to love anybody else. Losing Rick had been a near mortal blow to her. But she faced the immediate necessity of eating.
All told, when it was over, she found less than two dollars in her pocketbook. Eating being the acute problem that it was, Tuesday naturally sought employment where there was food.
"You a dancer?" the manager of the Flaming Poon asked suspiciously. "Where you been dancing before?"
"Well, I haven't danced professionally," Tuesday confessed, "but I'm good at it. Hell, give me a chance, and if I don't cut it, I mean right off, fire me and you don't owe me anything. Just feed me while I try it."
"That sounds okay," he said, "but for a topless go-go gal, you sure ain't holding any heavy tits. Our customers like big-tittied girls."
"They like those freaks with bazooms down to their navels because that's all they get," Tuesday argued boldly. "My tits aren't so big, but by God, they're firm. Hell, some of these pigs you got pictures of out front, would have bugs crawl out from under their boobs if they could lift 'em up. Mine stand straight out. Your customers will like 'em. Just give it a try."
"Okay," he agreed, "but if you don't wow 'em tonight don't come back tomorrow."
"I'll wow 'em," she promised.
And she did. Goddamn! The silly bastards, pitiful shit heads trying to escape their dumb-dumb wives, went right up the wall as soon as they saw Tuesday's body. They whistled and stomped, and demanded to see more of her.
Ha! Maybe, she was a good dancer. Maybe she could go to Hollywood or New York. Hell, guys were the same everywhere. If they went ape shit in one place, they'd be the same elsewhere.
"Okay, okay," the manager said after closing. "You ain't done bad. So we hire you on for say seventy a week and your meals."
"Seventy a week?" she complained. "That won't keep a roof over my head. Hell, man, I got to make more than that!"
"So make a million," he said. "Goddamn! What we pay you is just to keep you from working for nothing while you're here. If a girl in this joint can't make three, four hunnert a week, she just ain't trying."
"How can I?"
"Don't be a fucking dumb-dumb!" he snapped. "If these guys will pay to see you switch around, hell, they'll pay to see you later. Jesus Christ! You ought to know that a guy who'll pay to see a clumsy ox like you stagger around with those boobs will sure as shit lay out a bundle to take you home with him."
"Clumsy ox?"
"Goddamn, there ain't one of you that can dance a fuckin' lick! Thank God the johns are so stupid! But you can switch your ass around in private, and make all the dough you want. What I'm doing, I ought to charge you to be here. Hell, I'm settin' you up in business, and you ain't got to invest a dime. Now, how can you beat that?"
Tuesday would have blown her stack on two counts, but the mention of three to four hundred dollars a week had a calming influence on her. She resented the hell out of his calling her an "ox" and she was trying not to be a whore, but, well shit, that much money...
"All right," she said, "we'll see, but let me have twenty-five to keep me going 'til the flood gates open and all the big money starts rolling in."
He pulled two tens and a five off a greasy roll which he kept in his pocket. "You've fucked up tonight. You never sat with the customers when you wasn't dancing. And you been standing here jawing at me. Tomorrow, get out there and be sociable. You'll see how the money floods in."
Tuesday's reception the following night was even more enthusiastic than it had been the first night, but she did not mingle with the crowd. As soon as her set ended, she beat it to hell into the kitchen, and waited 'til the next time.
She still had most of the twenty-five left, and she was not yet certain whether she wanted to sell anything besides her dancing. In fact, her uncertainty prevailed for nearly ten days, and it had a tremendous effect on her popularity. All the regulars had tried her and failed to get even a conversation.
The word was spread. She was young, with a great body, and by God, she was untouchable. The smart cunt hounds swarmed around, each one certain he could put the make on Tuesday, and each certain that she was nothing more than a sheeney cunt, trying to be a smart ass. Really, she was a star attraction, but she still got only seventy a week.
So, when the bus boy brought her a note into the kitchen, which was wrapped around half of a hundred-dollar bill, she decided it was time to emerge from hiding.
Manny McDowell sent the note back, and he held the other half of the C note. "Come out and get the rest of the bill," the note said. "In fact, come out and get a handful of papers with Ben Franklin's picture. I dare you!"
Manny could afford to pay. He was a second-generation wonder, a corporate executive who lacked the business judgment to buy a decent roll of toilet paper, but who had a title, an office, a solid hundred-thousand-a-year income, no responsibility, and a bitchy wife who had let the moss grow over her cunt.
Manny, not much in the office, considered himself to be a terror in bed. Most of his playmates agreed with him. They all liked those pictures of Ben Franklin which he threw around.
Tuesday found that she liked old Ben too, and sent Manny a note back telling him to meet her outside. If she fucked him, nobody would know it but her. She wasn't letting all the idiots in on the deal. He would spread it around, but it would only be his word, and all men lie about the pussy they get.
If she could convince two or three well-heeled guys that she was letting them have it exclusively, she'd be in the chips, and not have to fuck everybody in town.
Manny was practically slobbering when they got into the car. "Damn," he said. "I been there every night, and I thought you were never gonna be sociable!"
"You didn't say the magic word until tonight," she replied.
"What magic word?"
"Ben Franklin."
He laughed. "Hell, I didn't know he was a magician. But I'm glad he is. Uh, whatcha say we drive out to this cabin I got? There's booze and food there, and nobody will bother us."
"You got the pictures," she said. "I just follow old Ben around I guess."
Again he laughed. Manny wasn't holding a great bucket full of smarts, but he was a harmless sort of rich fuck-up. At least, he was smart enough to make his money and stay out of the way of people who made it for him.
After a ride of about twenty minutes, they came upon his cabin. Hell, it was more like a barn. At least it was big, and it sure as hell did sit in a remote corner of nowhere.
"What's this for, hunting?" Tuesday asked as they got out of the car.
"Yeah, you might say so," Manny said. "I use it to hunt and fuck."
"What do you hunt?"
"Something to fuck," he replied, and laughed again. Tuesday was beginning to like Manny. He was fun.
Once inside the house, Tuesday saw that it was richly furnished and decorated in excellent taste. It was certainly no hunting cabin. It was a love nest, sort of a deep-carpeted cunt cage.
"Oh, this is nice..." she said, with admiration in her voice.
"Go on in that bedroom and get your clothes off," he said matter-of-factly. "I'll be in right away, and we'll see just how many Ben Franklin pictures you want!"
The bedroom was at least twenty by twenty, and there was a huge oval bed. There were also monogrammed satin sheets on the bed.
She stripped herself naked and fell on the sheets. Goddamn, that silky finish was enough to make a girl come. As a matter of fact, Tuesday was at once hot as a pistol. She had not had any cock in weeks and she had been too upset even to diddle her cunt. Now, with a good-looking guy on the prowl, and all those pictures of old Ben... Jesus, her pussy was zinging even before Manny got into the room.
When he arrived, he was as naked as she, and Tuesday was pleased to see his firm, deeply tanned body.
His stomach was flat as a manhole cover, and his legs well molded and strong. Then she fixed her eyes on his cock. Holy Jumping Jesus! she thought. I've got another one!
Manny was well, if not sensationally, hung. His cock had to fight its way out of a massive tangle of pubic undergrowth. Once his prick rose, Manny had a nice-looking cock. But he was not content with his hard-on. He had affixed the most evil-looking tickler to it!
Tuesday, in all her experience, had not been fucked by a tickler, and she had never even seen one up close before. But Manny apparently knew all about the little devices.
His tool was about semi-hard, and he pulled it up, pointing it right at Tuesday. "Look at it," he said. "Look at that Frenchy! Goddamn. I tell you it's something else. Think you can take it okay?"
Tuesday's cunt was oozing at the sight of Manny's body, and she was not disconcerted by the device. It was just that she was wary of all men who had peculiar inclinations about fucking.
The tickler concealed the head of Manny's cock. There were dozens of little wart-like bumps around the circumference of it. Besides the warts, there were two long yellow feathers rearing out the end, and the whole thing was covered in some sort of white-looking slime. Tuesday wondered if he had jacked off and smeared the come over the tickler to lubricate it.
"Yes, I can take it," she said. "But why use it?" "It'll make you climb the wall," he said. "And the more you carry on and get yours, the more it turns me on... and I might add, the more pictures I can give you for your book . . your pocketbook!"
Tuesday shrugged. "It's your party. How do you want it?"
By then his cock was upright and rigid. "I'll lie on my back," he said, crawling on the bed, "and you sit down on my dick. No. No! Face away from me. I know you think it ought to be the other way, but this is the way to screw with the tickler. I'm going to put it in some places inside you that you haven't even heard about."
Tuesday wiggled herself on top of his outstretched frame, and awkwardly reaching down between her legs, found his cock, and raised it up to where she could insert it into the lips of her cunt. Whatever he had smeared over it was as slick as hot owl shit.
Tuesday dropped his prick and heard it splatter with a wet floppiness against his belly. Then, she recaptured his prick and worked it into the hot mouth of her pussy. Feeling the heat of his legs against the backs of her thighs had set Tuesday's innards to churning.
God, how long it had been! The touch of hot male meat always made her soar into orbit.
He was no romantic. There was no bullshit manner in his approach. But as she eased his tickler-equipped cock into her cunt, she felt his muscles tighten under her ass, and she knew that he was going to put forth the effort when his cock was seated.
As soon as the head of his cock cleared the snapping portion, of her cunt, he lunged upward with her hips and buried the heavy cock deep in her cunt. Deep? Tuesday had never dreamed a cock could go in as far and not split something. The tickler gave him an extra two inches, and whatever portion of her inner cunt it struck was the touchstone of her passion.
"Oh Jesus! Sweet Jesus!" she moaned. "Whew, put that thing to me! God, it's good!"
"I told you," he said, grasping her by the hips, and guiding the motion of her ass. "Now you quit trying to do the thinking. Just let my hands guide you. You don't want to bury my cock in the full depth and leave it. That rough head I'm wearing will work over every bit of your pussy."
"Okay... all right.., anything you say," Tuesday agreed, trying to coordinate the working of her hips with the pressure of his hands.
She had to admit to herself that Manny put out a pretty fair fuck. He bumped himself up as he drew her down on his cock, and his cock was rubbing the inside of her snatch with the tickler in a stroke about four inches long.
Tuesday was going out of her mind. It was like having a terrible itch which was beyond scratching. She worked her ass around in every conceivable fashion. She wanted to make certain all of her cunt got the benefit of the sheathed cock Manny was pouring in.
Soon, she noted that Manny was not guiding her as he had started out to do. He was hunching and panting for breath, but he kept only one hand resting lightly on her hip. The other hand... Jesus Christ! He had positioned his left hand right under her backside, and his finger had shot up her ass crack and deep into her rectum. Ooooh! And it wasn't just his finger! Manny had some sort of tickler on his hand and had worked the damn thing straight into her bowels.
Now there was a feeling! Tuesday had experienced some anal stimulation in her time, and she had liked what she felt. But she had not fully appreciated the sensitivity of her asshole until Manny got up there with whatever it was he had on his finger.
At first, she had opened her mouth to scream a protest, but after the initial horror had worn off, Tuesday was pinching her asscheeks together as tightly as she could on the downstroke so that she could feel the roughness of what he was doing against all of her inner rectum.
She closed her eyes. Hell, when Howard and his friends had taken her five holes at once, she had had both holes filled. But then, she had had to be
concerned with sucking a dick and jerking two more. Besides, a slick, boyish dick and a rough-hewn tickler on the fingers of a master fuck artist were grey horses of different colors.
Manny was an artist, a matter of his craft, and if he didn't know shit from Shinola about running a business, he truly had achieved the ultimate in fucking skill.
Tuesday was helplessly impaled on his cock, and she fought back a strong urge to scream and to laugh and to cry all at once. There was also a steadily rising urge to shit. The hand up her asshole was pulling at her fecal deposits, but she was unconcerned. A sophisticate like Manny would not panic, no matter what happened, and she was hoping she would not shit.
She did not. But she did come, It was sudden and unusual.
Most of the time, Tuesday would know a few seconds before that her orgasm was at hand; she would have time to gasp in a good breath and to grind her teeth together and tighten her pussy and asshole. But this time, right in the middle of an upstroke, her come hit her.
She faltered on the way up. Her body tensed and then relaxed, and she was not in control of herself. Her whole being was shaken by a paralyzing shudder, and then a swift chill swept over her.
Manny kept his finger up her asshole, but he tightened his grip on her right hip.
Good God, she thought she might die!
Tuesday wanted to scream. Manny was pouring the prick into her cunt, and massaging the inside of her tail hole with a great passion. She kept coming, and he pumped harder, and when she had been reduced to an almost senseless mass of whirling ass and twisting body, she was jerked back to the reality of the situation when she knew he was coming.
The tickler prevented the hot soup of his balls from spilling into her cunt, but she could feel the great swell and throb of his cock, and hear the gasping, grunting effort he was making to get his breath.
He had almost fucked the life out of her, but he had paid a hell of a price. He was as shaken as she, and there was no way either of them could conceal from the other what they had been through.
The tremors of orgasm were still running through them both then, when, without warning, Manny shoved her forward and pulled his cock out of her snatch and his finger out of her asshole. She fell to the left and was surprised at his sudden violent movement. But he was not done. In fact, his cock was jumping in its rigidity, and he crawled with it in his hand to point it right in her face.
"Get the tickler off, quick!" he said.
Tuesday reached out to take it, but he pulled his prick away.
"Not with your hand," he hissed. "Eat the goddamn thing off, and then suck!"
Meekly, Tuesday obeyed. She had to force her mouth wide open to take his shielded tool into her oral cavity. But she made it. She gagged and retched a couple of times because the feathers were down her throat, but she finally managed to hook her teeth behind the wart-covered head, and then she began to suck. It was tough going, but once she cleared the puckering elastic which fitted behind the head of his cock, the tickler slid off easily and she spit it on the satin sheets.
His tool was covered with come, and still drooling as she sucked it deep into her mouth. Manny did not want to be chewed on. He wanted his cock to be sucked! As Tuesday worked her mouth over the slimy surface of his cock, he wrenched his body about. He spread her legs with his hands, dived deep into her muff. Well, she just about did shit!
The fucking with the tickler had given her new and extraordinary sensations. But it had left unsatisfied the old and time-worn needs of a normal cunt. But Manny's tongue, darting in and out of her snatch hole, probing over her swollen clitoris, was giving her that relaxing satisfaction which she knew would soon elevate her to another orgasm.
As she sucked on Manny's cock, she jostled his balls in her hand, and this seemed to make him hotter. At least, he jumped and hunched harder. Tuesday was pleased.
Tuesday had not considered Manny's age, but then she figured he must be in his late twenties. Certainly a time when his potency should be at its height. But there were damn few men, she figured, who would be able to come twice on the same hard-on. Especially if they had been thoroughly fucked on the first go-round as Manny had. But as she sucked on his cock, she felt it grow harder and harder, and she knew that he would indeed spill his sperm again.
There were gobbling, slopping noises as they ate each other. With their mouths full of cunt and cock, there was no opportunity for, or need for, conversation.
Although she had to work at sucking his cock, she was able to relax and enjoy the feeling which was building in her cunt. It spread like fire through her crotch area, and galloped along her taut nerves until the yew top of her head tingled.
I'm going to come again!
No sooner had this run through her mind when she felt the last surging heat boil up in her loins. She could feel the lust building, and as she suffered the first onslaught of orgasm, she clamped her legs together, trapping Manny's head.
He struggled to free himself so that he could keep his motion going, but she had him trapped, and all he could do was lick and gobble her cunt. It was enough. Tuesday could not have endured anything more.
Meanwhile, she had pushed her head back and removed his dick from the back of her mouth. She knew he was nearly ready, and she rolled the head of his tool about with his tongue while she fastened her lips tightly on the glans. This would extract the maximum from his prick, but she had to make him come quickly. Her lips would soon tire if she sucked as hard as she was.
Ah, but her timing had been great. She felt the hot slop gooing out of his cock and running down her throat. She did not spill a singe drop of it. She drank his jizm with the relish of a thirsty traveler at a desert oasis.
Chapter Nine
Freda was tired, but she was still intrigued by the stow of Tuesday's life,
"This Manny cat sounds like he might have been the very guy a girl would like to meet. Hell, he ought to have been able to show you some new tricks."
Tuesday's laugh was bitter. "Yeah," she sneered. "He showed me a hell of a lot of ropes. If I had had a ten-foot length of one, there were a lot of times I would have swung myself from a rafter. This guy had to be the number-one asshole of all time."
"Really?" Freda said, her eyes brightening.
"No, not really. I mean he was too damn much of a snob to really get down and eat, a cunt. He was just a bastard. He was the type who would hold his mother for a nigger to fuck!"
"What are you? Some kind of racist? I never knew you had anything against blacks."
"Hell, I haven't but that was an old whorehouse saying back in the long-gone days when Manny was showing me how to rise in the world ..."
Manny smoked cigars and wherever he went, there was usually a trail of acrid smoke flowing out behind him. Conversation with him was a study in survival, and Tuesday always tried to get upwind of him if possible. He also had an annoying habit of farting, and this again proved the upwind position to be the best one.
"Listen," he told Tuesday, punctuating his remarks with stabs of the cigar into the air. "There are more cocks than there are available cunts. You know that. So the deal is to manage your cunt right and fill up the bank with money."
"How?" Tuesday asked.
"Hell, Henry Ford couldn't sell cars. He made em, but he got him some smart people to sell 'em. Now you got a quality product in your pussy. But you can't sell it. You'll always be a two-bit hooker if you don't get some smarts. You got to have proper management. It's the way to fame and fortune!"
"And you got the proper management?" she asked doubtfully.
"Damn right! Listen! It's just a matter of moving in the right circles. I can move in those circles and steer you to the guys. You know, on a call-girl basis. Hell, I figure with your cunt and your looks, a hundred a pop would be reasonable."
"A hundred a pop? You mean everytime a guy comes or fucking all night?"
"Oh, you'd give him a couple of hours for the hundred. I figure two or three a night. Six or seven if we work in the college fraternity set. Hell, you ain't ever seen so much money!"
After a couple of days, Tuesday decided that if there was no other way than to be a whore, she might as well be a high-class one. Reluctantly, then, she agreed to submit herself to the "management" of Manny McDowell. In reality, she knew that Manny was a pimp and nothing more.
The customers did, indeed, begin to come with regularity. There were old men and guys so grassy green that she had to fish out their cocks and get them started. There were blacks and whites, Indians, foreign and domestic, and she even had an Oriental. This was her first major shock after turning pro.
The man was small and under his tailored suit, Tuesday could tell at a glance that he was well proportioned and muscular. His slanting eyes and heavy lids made her feel nervous.
"Ah, Missy," he said with a smile. "Indeed, I do myself honor to be here. Ah, let me conclude the vulgarity of our financial arrangements." He handed her a tightly wadded hundred-dollar bill and averted his eyes as she stuffed it into her handbag on the dresser.
"Okay," she said matter-of-factly. "It's your party, mister. Just tell me how and what."
His eyes appeared to be pained. "Ah, Missy, it is your choice to make the style of our meeting. I am a poor foreigner visiting your wonderful country. I would like to experience everything in a native way."
Tuesday was about to tell him that there was no strictly American way to fuck, and that citizens of the USA got their jollies in every conceivable manner.
"Well, we make love a number of different ways," she said. "But I guess the most grass-roots American way is dog-fashion."
"Dog... dog-fashion?"
"Yes," she said. "It's a ticklish thing because you, come in from the rear while I'm kneeling. The trick is to tickle me about my asshole."
"Please," he said. "I only want to get the general idea. Would you, therefore, do me the honor of disrobing and assuming the proper position? Mean while, I, too, will divest myself of my garments so that I shall be in the proper condition to accept the beauty of your body."
Tuesday was certain he was not putting her on. Quickly, she stripped off her clothes and was naked before he could carefully hang his trousers over the back of a chair.
As soon as she was naked, Tuesday hopped up on the bed and sank on her knees. Then she leaned forward and put her head on the bed. Her ass was turned up to his view, and both her asshole and cunt yawned open to him.
He hesitated for a moment, and then began to peel off the remainder of his clothes and hurl them into a careless heap on the floor. Tuesday was anxious to see his cock.
However, he kept his back toward her, and she saw the rounded contours of his ass. He turned to show her his fully erected cock.
Tuesday blinked. His prick was without question the most incongruous thing she had ever beheld in her life.
Mr. Hiroto was scarcely five feet tall, but he had a huge and well-developed prick which reared out of his crotch like a missile ready to launch. The shaft was a pale yellow. But when her eyes had wandered the full length of nine inches, she discovered a flaring head peering from underneath a pronounced foreskin. The head, like all the cocks she had ever observed, was red and angry-looking, and there was a distinct possibility that the foreskin was not going to skin back all the way.
Underneath his prick, there was a gathering of loose flesh which Tuesday felt reasonably certain was the product of surgery or abuse. She could not be awe of which, but she was very certain that it had not grown that way of its own natural accord.
It was truly an awesome cock, but Tuesday was not exactly a beginner in the art of fucking and it held no fear for her.
His cock was much slimmer than any nine-inch prick she had ever seen, but the girth did not interest her as much as that head. If the skin would not come back, he would be very slow to come. If it did come back, then it would either slide all the way to the rear and expose a smooth, well-oiled surface, or it might, as some she had previously sucked and fucked, bunch itself into an unyielding wad right behind the head.
This kind of cock always rode the hell out of a clitoris, and sometimes, even on a commercial fuck, Tuesday would be coming under the fucking of such a heavily wadded foreskin.
Mr. Hiroto whirled with the grace of a ballet dancer and faced her with his legs thrust wide apart, a heavy sac of pendulous balls swinging between his legs. His cock did not soar upward as most cocks do. Rather, it stuck out at a right angle from his body. He would not have to pull it down to reach her hole. He would merely have to extend himself straight forward.
But Mr. Hiroto was not a man to fuck at once. Tuesday watched him as he bent low to inspect her ass. Gently and tentatively, he probed about the brown bud of her asshole. Goddamn, it tickled, but he did not make her want to jump. Instead, she found that she was as fascinated with his inspection as he seemed to be with her asshole.
He lowered his face until she could feel his breath on the inside of her ass crack. His nose soon came in contact with her asshole, and she felt his knees sink against the bed. Then, as he forced his nose up her asshole, she felt a shaking and vibrating which could mean only one thing. The son of a bitch was jerking himself off.
Now what kind of shit was this?
Tuesday craned her neck to see better, and she had a clear view of him striking at his cock with lightning like, seven-inch strokes.
Each time he ran his hands up and over the head of his cock, he allowed, his second and third fingers to part, and the shaft would run upward through the aperture. Deeper into her asshole he nuzzled. As his nose burrowed further, Tuesday became aware that he was taking an oral interest in her cunt with his mouth. She felt his teeth nabbing against the jaws of her cunt, and involuntarily, she squeezed her pussy together. That one seemingly innocent gesture was her undoing.
From the passive asshole sniffer, Mr. Hiroto was transformed into a raging maniac who scared the living shit out of Tuesday as he flung himself screaming upon her. He grabbed her roughly and threw her from her kneeling position to her back. Then he lunged on top of her, biting and clawing her with all his considerable strength.
Tuesday, not expecting his attack, was certainly ready to accept his cock into whatever hole of her body he wanted to stick it in, but she was not prepared to accept his long nailed hands which were upping her flesh from her back and opening long bleeding lacerations in both her titties. Not only did he claw, but he also bit, growling deeply in his throat as he probed her upper body with his mouth, biting little chunks of her as he went.
It took Tuesday maybe a half minute to realize that the son of a bitch was not just a violent fucker. Hell, he was a dangerous sickie who could easily inflict serious wounds on her body.
Tuesday began to fight back like a tigress. But she was no match for his strength.
But the suddenness of her retaliation hit him unprepared. He was bowled over backward, and a livid streak of red appeared from just under his left nipple, downward across his stomach. This had been opened up by Tuesday's long fingernails.
Feeling the pain, he hesitated a moment, looking down at the blood on his body. Then, with eyes blazing, he smiled a leering, crooked grin, and leaped back upon her.
This time, he was "no nonsense" Hiroto. He jammed his fingers deep into the softness of her titties, and when she felt the flesh tear, she opened her mouth and screamed. It was the cry of fright, of desperation, and of release. For while Tuesday was in severe pain, there was a certain electric stimulation to what the little man from the Far East was doing.
He soon exhausted his interest in her bleeding body and her lacerated tits, and turned his slavering attention to her cunt. Shaking his head about like a mad dog, he forced her legs apart and dove. . . literally dove into her muff. His hard teeth crashed into the puffy softness, and he bit her pouting pussy, biting hard until there was a taste of blood in his mouth. Then, changing his course, he became strangely gentle, and sought to suck her clitoris out of its protective hiding.
Though Tuesday had been somewhat thrilled by the pain, she was not turned on. She had no passion for the yellow brute who was ravaging her body. Thus, her clit was not hard and it wasn't stimulated. But Mr. Hiroto had seen reluctant clits before.
He pulled her cunt apart until she feared it would split. The skin tightened over her upper snatch and revealed her buried clit. Licking his lips, Mr. Hiroto started a hard suck from the upper end of her cunt slit and gobbled hard until he had pulled her clitoris into his mouth.
Then he performed an Oriental clit clobbering which sent Tuesday's asshole to opening and slamming shut in such horrendous succession that she wondered at the speed of its flapping.
Once he had the clitoris under his control, Mr. Hiroto probed it expertly with his tongue. Tuesday was unable to keep it from becoming hard. As it rose in his mouth, he roughly shoved his index finger up her asshole, ramming his thumb up her twat. She was literally going out of her mind, for as he worked on her clit, he was deftly but surely cuffing the inside of both her cunt and asshole with his fingernails.
His cock was spewing juice all over Tuesday and the bed. This madman was not interested in fucking her dint; he only wanted to impose pain and suffering. Tuesday was sure that if she survived Mr. Hiroto would go away with his cock unsullied by a Western cunt.
After her cunt and asshole were bleeding, and her titties seemed to be about to drop from her body, Tuesday gave up resisting. She lay still, hopefully that he would soon blow his load into the air, and fall away. Then, by God, she would deal with him.
But he was not going to unload in the air! As soon as both her cunt and asshole were ripped into bleeding pulps by his fingernails, and her clit had been sucked until it felt as though it might separate from her body, Mr. Hiroto jerked his hand from her pussy, and again started to pull his meat.
Goddamn, how the juice flew!
At first she thought hopefully that he had come.
But then she knew from the consistency of the ooze which he was spilling on her that it was not come; it was only a copious supply of cooze oil. The juice from his cock not only soaked Tuesday and the bed, but it also ran back over Mr. Hiroto's dick, saturating his upper stomach, and running down to drench his balls which were drawn up tightly under his body.
He bared his teeth again, and Tuesday prayed.
God, don't let that slant-eyed son of a bitch bite a nipple off one of my titties. Her prayer was apparently heard and answered. Mr. Hiroto made no further effort to gnaw on her breasts. Rather, he jerked himself upward, and he seized his cock and lowered himself so that it fucked into her bloody pussy.
Ah, she was relieved to find that her cunt was still intact. She did her best to relax and let his cock slide in. She would not bite down with the muscles of her twat.
He began to fuck. And he fucked well. He varied his depths and his directions. But Mr. Hiroto fucked alone. Tuesday did nothing whatever to aid him or to meet the challenge of his cock. She was too frightened, and a little sick over what he had done to her. So, he was paying her a hundred. The cocksucker ought to shell out a thousand for what he had done. By God, would she ever tell that bastard Manny a thing or two!
The sweat streamed down Mr. Hiroto's face. His balls were building higher and higher toward their inevitable explosion. Tuesday was holding herself back. She knew that with one or two more hunches she could bring him to orgasm before he knew what hit him. Then, feeling the throbs of his cock, Tuesday closed her eyes to let him come, to get the whole nightmare over with.
But Mr. Hiroto was not to be brought off so easily. He was getting his money's worth. He plunged his cock to the maximum depth, and then with a slooshing sound, he extracted it from her cunt.
Before she could open her eyes and focus them, she became painfully aware of why he had withdrawn. As soon as he was out of her cunt, he raised her ass off the bed, and with a reckless disregard for the delicate nature of rectal flesh, he drove his big-headed prick to the hilt in her battered asshole.
Tuesday again rent the air with a pitiful scream. Mr. Hiroto seemed to be heightened by the sound. He quickened the pace of his assault, and poured the prick into her bowels.
Then, with a scream of his own, Mr. Hiroto unloaded his sperm. Tuesday distinctly felt the heat of his come as it poured into her asshole. She was suddenly glad he had chosen to get his rocks off in her ass. The warmth of his jizm soothed her wounds, and as the trickle of his ball juice dripped out of her asshole and down between her legs to soak the bed again, she felt that she had indeed suffered the extreme cruelty, and had survived.
Mr. Hiroto's cock began to soften inside her.
"Get off me, you son of a bitch!" she cried. "Goddamn you. PU kill you!"
Mr. Hiroto had not grown to middle years being
either slow or foolish. No longer inflamed by the passion of his depraved desires, he was at once the meek little man who had been so solicitous of her in the first place.
"Forgive me, missy," he said, rolling off and shaking the come off his cock onto the floor. "I was carried away. Oh, I am truly sorry to have hurt you.
"Hurt me!" Tuesday screamed as her tears began to flow. "Goddamn, you have nearly killed me. Look at me. Just look! Bloody and torn up. I'll kill you!"
"Peace! Peace!" he said, with palms outward. "I really meant no harm. I was merely overcome by the wealth of your charms."
"Oh, bullshit!" she cried. "I'm
You've put me out of business for God knows how long! It's just like somebody burned your place of business."
Mr. Hiroto smiled sympathetically. "As the responsible party, I can pay the damage. How would three thousand dollars, American, seem to you?"
The pain went out of Tuesday's cunt. "Three thousand . . . dollars?"
"Yes," he said. "You have given me great pleasure, done me great honor, and it is only fitting that you should be compensated for your effort and your damage."
She was speechless.
Chapter Ten
Manny listened to Tuesday's recital of her session with Mr. Hiroto and the more he heard, the more he smiled.
"Goddamnit!" she raged. "I don't see anything to smile about. The bastard hurt me. He hurt me bad. God knows how long it will be before I'm ready to take on a regular cock again. Jesus Christ! I attract these sickies like a shit draws flies."
"You miss the point, baby," Manny said.
"What point?"
"The three thou you got there in your kit! Hell, we been going about this the wrong way. We been selling plain old fucking and sucking for peanuts when these guys who want blood will lay out the real heavy bread for it. Now what the hell does that tell you?"
"What?"
"It's simple," he said. "From now on we become specialists. We cater only to these fucked-up cats. No matter what they want, we give it to 'em, and charge accordingly."
"But wait a minute," she protested. "I don't know where you get this we stuff. I'm the one who has to be chewed and clawed and fucked in every hole. Goddamn, I'm getting the pain, and I'm not about to take on bastards like Hiroto unless I get all the money except ten percent. Even then, you're overpaid. I'd like to see what you would charge to let somebody scrape out your asshole with a nasty fingernail."
"Okay. Okay," he agreed. "So, I'll work for ten percent. But we'll get more. Think how hard it is for any of these guys to get what they want. Don't you think Hiroto will tell his friends? Well, he will... and when they start calling, you just turn 'em over to me. We'll run a high-class, specialty service, but the creepy cocksuckers are gonna pay.
Tuesday shook her head in bewilderment. The only reason she was going along was that she knew it would take only a short time to put together enough money to get the hell out of the whoring business. Then, by God, she would marry somebody like Bick and settle down to run a chicken farm. That was what she decided she wanted. The quiet life on the farm.
"Okay," she agreed, "But I won't be able to fuck anything for at least a week, maybe more. Man, my whole cunt is a disaster area."
Manny patted her cheek. "Now you're talking," he said. "Just leave everything to me. Take a week to get over Hiroto, and I'll get busy and line up something. Hell, you're gonna be rich."
Tuesday slept a lot, and bathed her snatch and asshole in healing salt water and alum. The latter was to shrink the tissues and make her cunt and asshole tight again.
Within five days, she was pissing without pain, and at the end of the seventh day, she finger-fucked herself to bring herself off to a roaring, ear-bugging orgasm that made her wonder why the hell men were necessary in the first place.
Then, on the eight day, she began to wonder if there was ever going to be any more action. She had not seen or heard from Manny. But just before nightfall on the eighth day, he put in his appearance, grinning broadly and obviously in high humor.
"I've struck it for you," he proclaimed. "Goddamn, you're gonna make more money tomorrow than the average whore does in a year!"
Tuesday frowned. "Don't call me a whore," she said. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Well, I found out about this exclusive club over in the Bradbury Heights section. All of 'em married men, and very discreet. It's so damn secret, the members don't hardly know each other."
'That's a double negative," she said.
"What?"
"Never mind. What about the club?"
"These guys got money up the gazoo, and they get together every once in a while because they have been drawn to each other. You know, they're all fucked up. They're asshole bastards that want to be whipped, and some fart-sniffers and shit-eaters. Oh, hell, I guess they got somebody who wants a little of everything. But it's more of a hunt club. They don't do much for each other.
Take a guy who wants to smell a really rank fart. He can't do a damn thing for a guy who wants to lick assholes. In fact, I talked to the guy who is just nuts on licking assholes, and he thinks the fart-sniffer is queer and they don't even speak. But they all stay in the club, because they figure if they can help each other search for partners, then they all got a better chance.
"There's one little thing about this deal. Lots of these guys want a man. One they were telling me about is a confirmed cocksucker. He won't do anything but cop a prick, and he won't pay a nickel for it if there isn't some shit kinda hanging on the back of the balls."
Tuesday was intrigued. "How in the hell would any shit be on balls?"
"Oh, you're not that dumb," Manny said. "If a guy has the runny shits, it's no trouble at all for some of it to drip out of his asshole and run down on his balls. Then, he doesn't wear himself out wiping his ass, he's got those delicious, shit-stained balls, just right for lopping."
"Huh? If I had balls, I wouldn't go around with shit on them."
"Not for a thousand? Well, I would!"
"You mean you're..."
"You're tuning in," he said. "Here's what I've done. I let the guy who licks assholes.... he's a trustee for the YMCA and works with the Home for Unwed Mothers.., line the deal up. I told him to get five of 'em. I don't give a damn what they want, the two of us will give it. The price for an all-night soak is.. get this.., ten thousand."
Tuesday gasped.
"Now wait! I get five and you get five. And you're getting the best of the deal, because I'm the one who lined up the whole thing, and I'm getting nothing for my promotional work. But think of it! Five apiece for one night!"
Tuesday made a quick calculation about how much she had in the bank. "Okay, it sounds fine," she admitted. "I think I can handle this. What kind of sickies are gonna be there?"
Manny consulted a notebook. "Well, we have a shit-eating cocksucker, and then we got a real curiosity. We got this minister who likes to chew foreskins while somebody works up his asshole. I got the foreskin for him, but we'll have to work out the bit for his rear end."
"How about a broom handle?" Tuesday suggested. "We could sand it down real good, and put a rubber on it."
"Why put a rubber on a broom handle? It can't come, and besides, he won't get pregnant anyhow. Hell, if there are any splinters in it, he'll go ape, and we'll charge him extra. Okay, then, we got the broom handle taken care of. Now, you may be a little uncertain about this next one. He's got a real problem. He likes to chew the Kotex off a cunt. He says nothing will send him unless he can taste that good old blood."
"Well, we're shit out of luck. I'm not having my period."
Manny smiled, and tapped his head with his finger. "I'm way ahead of you. I've arranged to buy a bucket of blood from a slaughterhouse. He won't know it's from a cow. I'll just soak the Kotex napkin in it, and then add a few drops of rotten fish oil. Shit! He'll think, he's eating the foulest cunt in the world."
N Tuesday had to admit Manny was creative.
"Then we got an ex-football player who was as queer as hell in college, but has gone down since. He just can't make it sucking a cock anymore. He has to eat on a sweaty jock strap, sucking the juice out of it while some fellow jerks him off. Hell, I can do that while the other guy is lopping my balls. Then, finally, we got what they call a titty walker."
"Jesus Christ! What's a 'titty walker'?"
"This guy is hung up on tits, but not like most people. He doesn't give a flying shit about playing with them. He wants to walk on them. You know, sort of a fucked-up version of running barefoot through acres of titties. He comes as he gets his toes with nipples poking up between them.
"Yeah, but hell! He'll kill me if he stands up on my tits. They aren't that big, but I'd damn well hate to lose either one of 'em."
"Hell, I'm ahead of you again," Manny boasted. "I got this guy to agree to do his titty walking lying down. All it will amount to is that he will be feeling your boobs with his feet. Shit, there won't be any pain in that at all. Now you gotta admit, I have done a helluva promotional job, and this is only the beginning. Hell, they got a whole load of way-out mother fuckers, and we'll clean them out. Shit, we'll fill up the bank with money!"
"I always thought you had plenty of money,"
Tuesday said.
"Hell, a rich man's never got enough."
Tuesday felt a certain anticipation. If five weirdo sexopaths could ante up ten grand for a single night, God Almighty, there must be millions out there just waiting to be hauled in. "You soak up the blood and rotten fish juice," she said. "I puke easily."
"Yeah," Manny said dryly. "I know."
That very night was the occasion of the massive sickie orgy. . . fuck . . . suck. ..fart... sniff. ..and eat!
Manny was as nervous as a cat before the first guests arrived. He had never offered himself for sale, and certainly not to a cod-lopping man. What's more, while he was able to douse the Kotex in cow blood and fish oil without any hesitation, when it came to smearing slit over his own balls, that was something else again.
Tuesday smiled silently to herself as she saw him gag as he prepared his balls. It was not his shit. In fact, it wasn't even human. It was some dog crap that he had scooped up out of the front yard.
After he painted his balls, Manny had to leave off his pants to allow the gop to dry, and while he waited, he kept himself busy and useful applying a sheet of number-two sandpaper to a broom handle which he had cut to a length of about two feet.
Tuesday liked the way Manny's balls flopped, even if-they were covered in shit. His cock was also attractive to her. She felt a slight tug of nostalgia as she looked at his prick. In less complicated days, she would have taken his cock into the warm folds of her pussy and the two of them could have finished each other off and dreamed happily afterward. Now, though, there was the ever pressing quest for money which robbed life of its mystical and romantic properties.
Manny had encountered some considerable trouble in procuring a really raunchy jock strap. Contrasting his school days when a fellow would wear the same jock until it stood stiff against the side of his locker, athletes now get a clean ball bag every day. A dirty jock. . . a really dirty jock, was a tough thing to acquire.
Finally, he persuaded a two-hundred-forty pound-high-school football player who had exceedingly beefy thighs and a wiry-haired crotch to wear the same jock for three days in practice in order to soak it thoroughly with sweat. Then, Manny wadded the soaking jock cover into a ball and thrust it into a clothes bag where he hoped it would sour and be at its rankest maximum when the user got his teeth into it.
"Hell, if we can get a big enough reputation with these folks," Manny was saying, "we can tell all the whip and lash and bite and bleed bastards to get lost. Goddamn, there's a mission to be made out of freaks who won't hurt anybody!"
"Now there," said Tuesday, remembering Mr. Hiroto, "is where I'm with you a hundred percent."
The crowd arrived in a body. Manny fluttered around, sewing up drinks, and Tuesday who was bored by thew simpering, pseudo gentility of the men, wished to God they would cut out the horseshit and get on with it. Finally, a spraddle-assed, trucking executive set his glass down and said to Tuesday, "I'm a titty-fancier. May I look at yours?"
"You sun can," she said, relieved. "Here, help me get my dress unzipped." She had left off her bra. After all, her titties did not require support. They were hard and firm and they did not droop. Hence, when one of the main orders was to let some bastard work them over with his feet, she was instantly ready.
"Ooooh! They're lovely," he cooed, kicking off his shoes. "Lie down! Lie down! I want to touch them with my toes!"
Tuesday flopped unceremoniously on the couch, and the fucker stripped off his socks and climbed up to sit on the back of the divan. In this manner, he could put both his feet on her titties. As soon as he was situated, and got her nipples up between his toes, he began to moan in a low voice, and his cock sprang up in his pants.
He unashamedly pulled his cock out, and began to stoke it gently as he worked his feet around on Tuesday's tits.
This seemed to electrify the crowd. The guy who wanted to eat the Kotex felt tentatively in Tuesday's crotch to make certain she had the rag on.
When he felt the soft padding which was unmistakably a sanitary napkin, he beamed broadly, and began to jerk his pants off with one hand to elevate Tuesday's skirt with the other.
Manny realized that the moment was at hand when the orgy would blast off. He hurriedly produced the smelly jock strap, and got out of all his clothes while the jock chewer was sniffing over the rancid surface of the supporter. Its smell was sufficient to foul the whole room, but he buried his face in it, and the others were quick to observe that there was almost at once a damp and widening spot of cooze oil spilling out of his cock and showing up on his pants. That's good, Manny thought, because the jock chewer would not require any further attention.
The cod lopper, however, was so anxious he was jumping about, and trying to constrain himself until Manny could produce his shit-stained scrotum.
Manny's balls were swinging, and had a distinct brownish flavor to them. The lopper shoved Manny into leaning over the arm of a chair, and he thrust his nose against Manny's nuts.
"Jesus," he exhaled, "would you smell that lovely odor? Your balls are the best I ever saw smelled." He took one tentative lick at the scrotum. "Jesus, what a taste!" he cried, smacking his lips in relish. "Oh, my God, what did you eat to product shit like this?"
"Dog food," Manny said with a smile.
Finally, they were all in action except the poor asshole who wanted to chew a foreskin. He was circling around Manny like a bird of prey about to strike, but at first, he could not figure a way in which he could get to Manny's cock. Then he squatted on his haunches and backed up under where Manny was leaning over the arm of the chair. Thus, he got the foreskin between his teeth, and as he whimpered and slopped around, Manny silently handed him the broom handle.
"Hell no," he protested. "I'm not working that thing into my own asshole. You got to do it."
Manny started to move about to make this possible but the cod lopper protested, and for a moment it seemed there might be some sort of confrontation between the foreskin chewer and the cod lopper.
Manny saved the day. By a simple readjustment, the three of them fell on the floor. Manny got a quick and juicing hard-on when he felt his foreskin being pulled into a mouth and gently gnawed on. His cock responded, and this, in turn, sewed to excite the chewer.
Once Manny got excited, he could work the stick up the gaping asshole with a certain relish.
Meanwhile, Tuesday was having a hell of a time. The Kotex chewer had pulled the rag off her snatch and in his excitement, he had not been able to keep it held firmly between his teeth. Consequently, it fell to the floor, and the guy was at once back on the bare flesh of her cunt in search of more blood and more fishy taste. Of course, there was a slight indication of it on Tuesday's cunt, but she prided herself in the cleanliness of her twat, and the man soon discovered that she was not really on the rag.
"Wait a goddamn minute," he thundered. "This gal ain't bleeding."
Manny leaped up, wrenching his cock out of a hot mouth and puffing the broom handle from the twitching asshole before him.
"Yes, she is," he cried. "You may have caught her between drains, but she will turn loose some more in just a minute, won't you, Tuesday?" As he asked the question, he jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom where the cow blood and rotten fish juice were stashed under the basin in a closed cabinet.
For a second, Tuesday was not certain. Then she understood. "Please, gentlemen," she said, "will you excuse me a moment?"
"Hell no!" the titty-walker cried, shoving his toes about her nipples and holding on.
Tuesday twisted away, and kissed him on the cock. "I'll be right back," she promised. "I just got to go in here and turn myself on."
She truly had to choke down her bile as she opened the containers.
She dipped her hand into the smelly mess and smeared it all over her pussy. Then, reeking and bleeding convincingly, she hustled back into the action room, and was at once attacked by the two whom she had just left.
Her nipples were beginning to be irritated. The bastard's feet were rough and callused, but Tuesday knew he would not last long. His cock was drooling all over the back of the sofa, and his balls were now drawn tight against him. He was still stroking his cock, but it was merely that. He was definitely not beating his meat. His libido was produced through his feet. He would be coming in a very short time.
The Kotex chewer came like the ordinary man took a piss. He began to leak jizm out the end of his cock, and it continued to run until his supply was exhausted, and the feeling receded from his prick.
Tuesday had not seen a man come like this, and she wondered if the feeling was as good to him as to others. Since nobody can feel what another feels at the moment of orgasm, there was no way to tell for certain. But the guy seemed to be going through dome sort of deep emotional experience as he ate the stinking cunt and dripped his droppings on the floor.
The cock chewer was a true loner. He sat stupidly against the wall, licking the bottom of the ball cup. Tuesday suspected that while he may have got some ticks out of chewing the jock, that he really got the most stimulation from watching the others. She suspected further that the jock was a cover for his own feelings of inadequacy, but as long as he could hide behind it, he could watch others and shoot off his load.
The foreskin chewer and the cod lopper were noisy.. They gobbled and slobbered, and the guy sucking Manny's balls had saliva mixed with dog shit running down his chin. His cock was jumping with a quick and forceful jerk, and Tuesday was sure he would come. And she was right.
Manny had an unerring instinct for timing, and as he sensed the lopper was going to blow his balls, the broom handle was rammed the full eighteen inches into the upturned asshole. The ball sucker screamed, took one final lick at Manny's balls, and expelled a sickening glop of come onto the floor.
The guy who had abandoned the Kotex to get right into Tuesday's cunt was the last to come, but his climax was decidedly the most dramatic. At the moment when he was deep in her muff, and the overpowering smell of the rotten fish and cow's blood was stifling his breath, his asshole suddenly began to twitch. He reached around behind himself and tried to shove a finger up his asshole. It was difficult because of the position he had to assume to get into Tuesday's pussy.
Manny, seeing that the poor guy was in a tough situation;, jerked the broom handle from the asshole of the one who had already come, and plunged it in full force, laden with shit and a tinge of blood as it was, right up the Kotex fancier's asshole.
As the broom handle struck into his entrails, the Kotex eater sucked in a great mouthful of Tuesday's cunt drippings. He emitted a soulful scream. His balls were loaded and under tremendous pressure anyway, but his upward leap flung his load across the room to stick and then ooze slowly down the wall.
When it was all over, the five visitors lay scattered about, wallowing in their own dick drippings and asshole leavings. Tuesday and Manny were sadly in need of a bath, but they were happy.
Now, all they had to do was split the money, and line up the next deal. It was, all in all, Tuesday decided, not a bad way to get rich quickly.
Chapter Eleven
"Well, damn, Freda said. "It looks to me like you two had a hell of a thing going. Jesus Christ! Ten grand for one night. Hell, it didn't take...what. ..half an hour?"
"Oh no!" Tuesday said, scratching her chewed up pussy. "I guess those assholes were there for three, maybe four hours. I've just given you the high spots of how it went. My tits were sore for a week. Titties just aren't made for feet."
"Yeah, but why the hell did you give it up? Hell, you won't make that much money in six months now."
"Oh yes, I will," Tuesday said wryly. "That was the problem. After we got through with it, and everybody had his clothes on again, Manny said he would go out to the car with the guys where they would pay off. Then he'd come back, and we would split."
"So?"
"Well, the son of a bitch never came back."
"But hell," Freda said. "You got the three grand from Hiroto. Why did you let Manny ruin your
deal? Hell, you didn't need him. Shit, you could do it by yourself. You still could."
"Naw," Tuesday said. "Like Manny said, everything needs management. Look at us here. If we didn't have some sort of madam to greet the marks at the front door, what kind of whorehouse would this be? And I'm also too, soft-hearted."
"What do you mean, soft-hearted?"
"Well, let some bastard give me a sad story, and I'll let him have some pussy just because I feel sorry for him. Then I don't have the guts to push him for the money. That's the reason I got to have outside management."
Freda sneered. "Huh! I wouldn't fuck my brother without the dough in advance."
"Let me give you one of my sadder stones as an example of why I'm such a bust at being a legitimate whore. I think it was Joplin or maybe St. Jo, Missouri. . . somewhere out there. II blow into town about ten o'clock at night, and I'm stuck in the bus station. Hell, I got money, but this place is like nowhere. I'm looking for a cab and...
There was a heavy and oppressive atmosphere in the Joplin bus station. Tuesday, lugging her heavy suitcase, wrinkled her nose in distaste. The station smelled of unwashed bodies and stale tobacco smoke. Whew! It had been a weary trip from nowhere to Joplin, and Tuesday was bone-tired. It was several months after Manny had walked out and disappeared, and she had been at loose ends.
She set the suitcase down. It was cold outside as she waited for a taxi. She sat down on the baggage, and began to search her pocketbook for a cigarette.
Ruefully, she contemplated her financial condition: Twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents. Tuesday was certainly no business manager.
Tuesday guessed she would get a room in a cheap hotel and make some sort of whore arrangement with the bell captain. If there is a sorry arrangement in whoring, it is being dependent on the customers which a bellman can shoo into your room.
While Tuesday was wondering what the name of a proper hotel would be, she caught sight of a young, virile man ambling across the station toward her.
The guy was, Tuesday reckoned, about nineteen, with auburn hair grown long down on his neck, and combed carelessly across his forehead. It was well styled. His shirt was open almost to his navel. Tuesday was certain the guy had magnificent nipples, probably dark brown, and very smooth.
Mound the middle, he was as slender as a girl, but Tuesday could almost feel the firmness of his stomach. In her mind's eye, Tuesday imagined how sleek his midsection would be, and it inflamed her cunt. After all, she had not had a decent fuck in a long time. Not one that turned her on. Most of the johns to whom she sold a piece of pussy were so terribly inept, or so unbelievably nervous or so suddenly drunk, that except for a few times when she finger-fucked herself in sheer desperation, Tuesday had not had her rocks off in months.
Guys who pay for pussy seldom ever know anything about fucking. Ah! But this guy, even if he was a virgin and knew nothing.. . he was created to be a sex wonder.
Tuesday marveled at his hips. How graceful they were, and how smoothly contoured were his buttocks. She licked her lips and wondered if the flesh on his ass, was as creamy as that which showed down the open front of his shirt.
Tuesday was drawn to the outline of a sizeable cock which was clearly discernible against his right leg. The clot of his jeans was stretched so tightly over it that Tuesday could see the definition of the head, and all of the shaft down to the bottom.
Did he have a hard-on? Surely not! He was out in public and there was no reason on earth he should be stimulated. Yet, that cock was at least.. . well, it had to be a good seven inches. Now, seven-inch cocks are a rarity at best, and Tuesday just did not believe There could be one that long and that big, around, with that firm a head on it, and still be soft.
No, by Christ, the guy had a hard-on. For what reason, Tuesday had no idea, but it was for certain:
His cock was up, and ready. . . for what?
Tuesday didn't know, but from the itching inside her drawers, she knew where she wished it was being shoved at that very moment. With each unhurried step the guy took, his cock would work its way up and down his pants. Tuesday knew that the rough texture of his pants would bear down through whatever kind of underwear he might be wearing, and the way his tool was being rubbed, he would have to be as hot as a two-dollar pistol.
She gazed at his crotch where the caged monster WSS lunging upward in an effort to escape. Jesus, would he turn it loose? Tuesday hoped she could catch his eye while appearing not to be flying to do so. Her problems, however, were easily solved.
He walked straight up to her, and since she was sitting on her suitcase, his cock was right in her face. It was all she could do to keep from lurching out and taking his asscheeks into her hands, plunging her mouth over his cock. Was it her imagination, or did she actually see it throb through his pants?
"Hello," he said, thrusting his hands into his hip pockets, thus tightening his already taut pants. "You a stranger here?"
"Yes... yes, I am," Tuesday said, casting her glance down. She hoped that she had not been too obvious looking at his prick.
"Me too," he said. "And I'll tell you something else. I ain't got a dime. And worse, I'm hungry. You look like a person who might listen to a sad story and maybe help a fellow out with a little something to eat."
Tuesday thought: Goddamn, I'll eat you! "Oh, I'm sorry you're broke," she said. "I'm not exactly the United States Treasury myself. But if you can go for a cup of coffee and maybe a stack of pancakes, I guess I can wring for tat. I know this isn't breakfast time, but..."
"Lady, I've been so seldom, I don't figure what meal it is. I just take whatever comes along."
Tuesday got up off the suitcase, and was
disconcerted to feel a dampness between her legs. Goddamnit! Her cunt was juicing from just talking with a fuzzy-faced guy, and she had swung on some of the biggest and most experienced cocks in the country.
"You got any place to sleep?" she asked.
"Naw, not really," he said, reaching down to pick up his bag. "I thought I'd walk around; maybe somebody would pick me up and take me home."
"Somebody?"
"Yeah. . . well, I hate to say it, but a guy can always, well, get another guy in a bus-station wash room. I guess that shocks you, but when you're hungry and ain't got nothing, you'll do anything you have to."
"No," Tuesday said as they walked out of the station and toward an all-night beanery across the street, "I'm not shocked. I guess I've done a few things when I had to myself."
He smiled.
"You don't look like somebody on the bum," she said.
"Well, I'm not really a bum," he said. "I just left home a few weeks ago. Me and my old man just don't get along, and I've been running around trying to find someplace to light. Maybe I'll find it here."
"Say, why don't we both get something to eat, and then I'll rent a room somewhere and we can get some rest together?"
He blinked as they sat down. "You mean sleep together in the same bed?"
"Why not?" Tuesday challenged.
"Nothing! We gonna do anything besides sleep?"
"Why not?"
"Okay! You know, I've been just aching for a girl for the past couple of days, and I never dreamed I'd get one as pretty as you are. Golly, this is my lucky day!"
Tuesday felt a hot ooze of cooze drooling out of her snatch. Jesus, after taking on all the sickies and finks she had been rolling around with, the idea of getting a hot cock from a guy who really had appeal was a heady potion. Whew! Tuesday was suddenly not hungry.
She wanted this guy. She wanted him in bed, naked, on cool sheets. She wanted to feel the hardness of his body pressed against her. Mostly, she wanted to feel that beautiful hard cock slip between her legs and work itself up into her snatch hole.
She could feel the nipples on her titties growing firm and hard inside her bra. "Eat up, and let's get out of here," she said hoarsely. "What's your name, anyhow?"
"Foxy," he replied. "Foxy Fowler. Really, it isn't Foxy, but everybody calls me that. I used to cheat so much in school that they all thought I was kinda foxy Shit!"
Under the table, she could feel his knee pressing against hers, and she let her legs drift easily apart so that he could shove his between them. Goddamn, she was getting so hot, she was about to leap over the table after him.
Foxy ate the cakes and coffee. Tuesday contented herself with a glass of milk and a few
crackers. Right at that moment, she was not in a mood to eat anything except Foxy's cock. This, she firmly believed, would be the most succulent morsel she ever worked down her throat.
Foxy, who had distinguished himself in his Arkansas hometown not only as the most adroit cheater in high school, but also as the town's most accomplished masturbator and pussy-licker, had whipped his cock off two and three times a day during his wandering odyssey away from home.
He had jacked off in phone booths late at night, in public toilets in the daytime, and even soaked his pants with his own come by tearing out the pockets in his jeans to reach down to the hot meat of his prick as he rode along on the bus.
His balls were always hot, and the more he played with his cock, the more it demanded attention. But even his best ministrations grew tiresome after a while. He liked to have a girl get after his prick, and when he saw Tuesday in the bus station, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and released his erected cock for her to see. Her response had been more than he could have hoped for.
They strolled up the street until they came to a shabby gentile boarding house with a "For Rent" sign out front.
Tuesday negotiated for the room, saying she wanted it for a couple of days while she looked around. The old gal who ran the house wasn't dumb; she recognized a hooker when she saw one. She wrongly figured that Foxy was Tuesday's pimp. She also made a mental note to see if she could give him a piece of her own shriveled-up pussy. Damn, he sure was a handsome guy!
Up in their room, Tuesday turned to Foxy, and he encircled her with a great hug which poked his cock right into the pocket between her legs. She could feel its hardness as he rubbed it against her. Their first kiss was a long and searching exchange of tongues, their mouths melting together as their bodies writhed and twisted in a heated contact. Finally, they broke, and Tuesday's tongue sought his ear as he dropped his mouth to the lower portion of her neck and began to slobber over her there.
"Oh God," she gasped. "Let's get out of these clothes and make love!"
Foxy sat down on the edge of a battered footstool. He stripped off his shoes and socks, and was on his feet to unfasten his pants when he noted that Tuesday was already naked and waiting for him.
When they were both naked, they paused to admire each other. Tuesday's body, not withstanding all the perverted assaults which it had undergone, was still as attractive as it had been the first time she was licked in the cunt in that girls' camp. Her titties were firm. Her nipples were dark and ripe, and because of her heated affinity for Foxy, they felt heavy.
Foxy's cock was hard and swollen. He had made himself come manually so many times in the preceding forty eight hours that he had irritated the head of his tool, making it larger than it was in ordinary circumstances.
Their bellies were both flat and firm, and as they moved together, her titties were pressed hard against him and their navels touched.
When Foxy's cock jabbed into Tuesday's thigh, she felt a weakness sweep through her. Now, what in God's name would cause that? She was used to fucking. Taking one cock or a dozen cocks in any hole on her body was nothing new; it was not even unusual. Yet, the mere touch of the wet end of Foxy's cock sent a shiver of anticipation through her entire system. Goddamn, fucking would be great fun if it could always be with Foxy!
His cock was dripping. However, as soon as he was in contact with Tuesday's body, the eye of his cock began to weep in increasing amounts.
He wriggled his hips about. It made his cock slip in between her legs, and she clamped her thighs together tightly against his hot prick. The head was stopped about an inch and a half from the mouth of her -pussy, and he could feel the fickle of her twat hairs sweeping gently over his most sensitive parts.
She held his cock between her thighs to keep it out of her cunt until they could wrestle themselves down on the bed.
When they hit the bed, their mouths again melted together, and Tuesday parted her legs to open her cunt to Foxy's eager, searching prick. He had no opportunity to inspect her pussy visually. As a rule, Foxy liked to eat a pussy and have a girl jerk him off, or in extreme cases, he would beat his own meat while chewing on a cunt.
Tuesday, however, gave him no chance. He was so uncontrollably hot when her legs parted that he made an instinctive thrust forward, and her pussy lips closed about the throbbing head of the cock. Once the head was trapped in the mouth of her cunt, her cunt drew him inward.
They clasped their arms about each other, and pulled their bodies closely together. He loved to feel those hard nipples bared and boring into his chest.
They rolled about on the bed, kissing and feeling so good. His tool was buried to the hilt in the warm folds of her velvet pussy. But except for the friction created by the way they rolled about, there was no real fucking. But it felt good. Foxy's cock was so hot that a breeze flowing over it might have sent his come flying.
Tuesday rolled over on her back, and spread her legs wide apart. This opened her cunt to its fullest, and Foxy's balls, already up tight against his body, all but fell into the hole along with his cock. Her clit was so taut that he could feel it bearing down on the top of his prick.
In a swift motion, Tuesday locked her legs behind his back, and curled her arms around his shoulders. "Now, for God's sake, FUCK!"
Huffing and puffing, Foxy dug for a toehold in the bed. She was jerking beneath him, and he was pouring his cock into the dark heat of her womb. Deeper dug the head with every plunge. His heavy-handed meat beating had whetted his cock's appetite for a pussy bath, and he resolved that, on the brink of his orgasm, jacking off would always be a secondary pleasure if he could fuck Tuesday regularly.
Their bodies were slipping and sliding; her titties were so hot! Her asshole was winking and opening and slamming shut with rapid tire. Tuesday did not care.
When she came, her asshole went "Woosh!" and the lips and interior walls of her cunt quivered and convulsively chewed upon his vomiting cock. He came as though he had not emptied his balls for weeks. Through his cock spurted the hot jizm into her womb, and she rose heavily on her heels and shoulders to meet the downward thrust of his meat. Finally, she collapsed on the bed, and he fell on top of her, his cock deeply buried into her box. There it lay and drooled and soaked in a combination of its own and Tuesday's juices.
That night, and for many weeks, months, and even years afterward, Tuesday thought Foxy had the finest body and the hardest, most satisfying cock on earth.
When she woke up the next morning, Foxy was gone, and so was the remainder of Tuesday's twelve dollars, and all of her clothes.
Chapter Twelve
As Freda listened to the story of Foxy's cock, she had become excited and had moved over as close to Tuesday as she could lie on the bed. Finally, just as the dramatic description of the vomiting cock was unfolded, Freda was overcome with desire. It had been a long time since, she had fucked a man of her own choice and for her own pleasure, and in her mind, she was back with Tuesday in bed with Foxy.
Without conscious regard for her action, Freda flung a leg over Tuesday, and shoved her warm and willing pussy over Tuesday's hipbone. In a flash, the old days in the girls' camp came back to Tuesday, and she automatically responded. She rolled her ass to work the hardness of her bone into the hot meat of Freda's cunt.
Freda gurgled and gasped, then clasped both of Tuesday's titties. She rubbed her thumbs over the nipples, and Tuesday realized that she, herself, wanted to get with Freda. Telling her own story had turned her on, and even if her cunt was torn with bites and scratches, she knew that she had to give herself to Freda, and that the two of them would come to orgasm in some manner.
Freda continued to rub over Tuesday's titties until they were hot and heavy again, and when Tuesday's passion flared, she leaped down between Freda's legs to begin sucking on her pussy. Freda parted her legs as wide as she could, and taking her hands away from Tuesday's tits, she placed them under her own buttocks to elevate her cunt from the bed.
Tuesday loved it! As Freda lifted herself, Tuesday could not only suck on the clit, but she could get down into the gorge as deep as she wished, and underneath it all, Tuesday could catch the faint scent of Freda's asshole.
Oh Jesus, it had been a long, long time since she had been into a female asshole. Freda had a wonderful body. Her skin was as smooth as a baby's ass, and it glowed with health and heat.
Tuesday lapped about Freda's cunt, and then, shoving her own hands under Freda's body, Tuesday lifted it higher, and exposed that elusive brown asshole. She could see it, but she couldn't get to it.
"Turn over! Turn over on your stomach... quick!"
Freda was too overcome to question. She rolled to her stomach, reaching as she did to gently caress Tuesday's worn and battered snatch.. When Freda was flat on her side, Tuesday pulled her legs apart and was pleased to see a beautiful asshole.
Of course, Tuesday was no prude. She would lick up an asshole hair, or no hair. But there was just something about a asshole that made her insides chum! Tuesday buried her face in Freda's crack. Once in between those deliciously rounded cheeks, Tuesday sought out the asshole with her tongue.
Freda squealed, and humped so violently Tuesday almost lost her hold. But she did manage to hold on. Up... uuupp! The darting tongue slammed its way into Freda's bowels, and Tuesday let one hand creep under the prone body to sneak a finger into Freda's twat, and to place another on the clit.
Freda, meanwhile, had to work with extreme care on Tuesday's cunt because of the injuries. Tuesday's clit had been all but wrenched from its moorings, and the hole was tender and torn. But up inside, it was in good repair. And it was here that Freda made her stand to fight for Tuesday's orgasm. But once her finger slid up into Tuesday's cunt, all Freda had to do was wiggle the end joint, and soon Tuesday was on the verge of coming.
Old professionals can communicate with each other without words. Athletes, bankers, lawyers ... they all know each other. Whores are no exception.
Freda and Tuesday knew exactly how the other felt, and as the time for climax came, they gave each other the maximum attention and achieved the maximum thrill.
Of course, both girls were spewing juice from their vaginas, and Freda had expelled a small blob of shit as a result of the intensive probe of her asshole, but there was no big mess to mop up or lie
in, as there might have been had a man shot his load into the girls.
"Oh Jesus, thanks a lot," Freda panted when it was over. "I really needed that!"
"I did too," Tuesday said. "It was the best I've had in a long, long time!"
Freda laughed. "Guess we ought to turn in and get some rest. You probably won't be entertaining any customers for a day or so, but I'll have to be back in there tomorrow with my cunt wide open. Fucking is hard work for me. I know I'm gonna sleep like a baby. Whew! You really know what to do to an asshole. I'm sorry I shit on the bed like I did."
"Oh, that's all right," Tuesday said easily.
Soon Freda fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Her heavy breathing told Tuesday that Freda was out for the night, and would awaken in the morning refreshed and ready for another day under whatever man she might encounter. But Tuesday was not sleepy. She felt strangely keyed up, excited.
Tuesday thought back over it all, searching her memory for one single redeeming feature of her whole existence. Rick! He was the only one who had ever really cared. He was the only one who ever had really taken the time to understand. All the rest of them . . . they had all used her, despoiled her body, abused her mind, and left her when she was of no further use. How ugly life was!
Tuesday put her hands up behind her head. Was her pussy the cause of all her trouble? Had she fucked herself into a horrible series of uncontrollable events which propelled her downward? She didn't know. All she did know for certain was that suddenly she was very tired. Physically tired. Mentally exhausted. Whew!
She didn't feel that she could spread her legs one more time for some drunken lout to creep between them with his rusty old cock, poking into her pussy. Why the hell should she continue? Well, getting down to the basics, why should she continue to live? God knows life had been nothing but one searing pain after another.
She felt somehow cheated. Somewhere, everywhere, there were women no more intelligent and certainly no better looking than she, and these women enjoyed the security and comfort of a real home with children and a husband. Where in God's name had she missed out? It was not by her own plan that she found herself tied to a relatively cheap whorehouse.
She examined her motives. Was she fucking and sucking and allowing herself to be tortured for money? Wasn't there an easier and a more satisfying way to earn money? There had to be. Yet, it was a habit. No! That was a lie. She did it, damn it was hard to act... she did it because she liked it. Somehow she liked the idea that her cunt, her tits and her mouth held power over men. But what good was the power? It really wasn't worth a pinch of monkey shit!
Tuesday dropped off into a troubled sleep. She dreamed that she was soaring through the clouds until she descended and found herself standing in a sunlit backyard.
The place was unfamiliar, and yet there was an air of homeyness about it. Tuesday felt at ease. About the borders of the yard were flowers, and she noted with some surprise that she was wearing a big apron with giant pockets overflowing with clothes pins.
Well, for God's sake, she was hanging out wash. That's funny, she thought. I never washed anything in my life. But there it was, a whole basketful of clothes, and there were... diapers? Sure as hell! Wonder whose kid it could be?
"Mommie!" called a small voice which was followed by an equally small boy around the corner of the house. "Mommie, come and help! Come and help!"
The kid had to be about two, no more. And what this "Mommie" shit? Jesus Christ! It must be my kid. Tuesday choked as she tried to swallow. A kid. My kid! Damn!
"Come and help!"
Help who? Daddy? Jesus, wonder what Daddy is like? Tuesday left her basketful of clothes and hurried around the corner of the house. The car in the drive was new, and there was a man pulling a child's swing outfit out of the trunk. When the man stood up it was... BICK!
"Hi, honey," he called. "Got the swings for Teeny." He kissed Tuesday on the cheek, and slipped an arm about her waist. "Let the stuff just lie there. I'll work on it after while. Heck. I haven't seen you since this morning."
Tuesday felt choked up. She nuzzled up close to him.
Then they were on the veranda. Their son was asleep.
Bick held his arms out to her. She sat down on his lap.
Then he kissed her. It was such a warm, gentle kiss that it made tears well up inside her. God, how sweet it was to have Rick to love. What a strong, wonderful man he was! Somehow, he made everything all right.
He kissed her again, and as he lowered his head to kiss and lick about her ears and neck, he allowed his hands to stray. One found its way up her dress where he thrust it into the hot hollow of her crotch, and the other he cupped about her left breast.
Tuesday was not wearing a bra, and his touch through the lightness of her dress was almost as stimulating as if he had been right with her, skin to skin. Her passion flamed.
"Oh, Bick!" she whispered against his ear. "I want you so much!"
"And I want you, too," he said thickly.
"Let's go inside. Let's go to our bed!"
"Yeah, I guess we should," he smiled. "Old married people shouldn't be having sex on the front porch!"
They went into the house, hand in hand. Married! God, when had it all happened? Tuesday didn't know how, nor could she recall when. But she was very certain that she was grateful, and happier than ever in her whole life. God had not forgotten. He had somehow brought her and Bick together, and it was good to be alive.
In the bedroom, they stripped off naked, and she was thrilled to see his cock was standing straight up when he got his clothes off He still got a hard-on thinking about the pussy he was about to get.
Slowly, she sank back against the softness of the pillows, letting her body sink luxuriously into the bed. He lay beside her, wrapping his right leg over her body. He smothered her mouth, her neck, and her titties with kisses. Flames leaped and burned within her cunt.
She wanted his meat inside her, and she tried to wiggle herself under him to bring his cock closer to the opening of her snatch. She could feel the throbbing of his dick, and it was wet and hot against her. Keeping his mouth locked on her titty and his knee between her legs, he rolled himself on top.
Then in a sudden and unexpected move, he jerked his mouth away from her nipple, and raised himself with his hands on either side of her body.
She looked down at his crotch and saw. . . Holy God!
The cock was gone. There was only a ragged, dripping stump of what had once been a dick, and the blood gushed from the open wound. Her eyes swept upward to see his face, and it was . . . Lance! My God!
Lance was on top of her. His dickless body dripping its blood on her stomach while her burning pussy called and cried for Rick's cock.
Tuesday screamed. Piercing the air with the shrill tones, she gasped for more breath and screamed again. Then she felt her body being shaken violently.
"Wake up!" Freda commanded. "Hey, wake the hell up! You're having a nightmare."
When Tuesday opened her eyes, she saw Freda hovering over the bed, and she heard the order to wake up. It was confusing. She had certainly been in bed with Rick. She had felt his kisses, savored the heat of his cock lying next to her body. Her pussy was truly wet with the passion fluids. And there was the child! Oh, Jesus, and there was the cock stump hanging on Lance's bleeding body.
A dream! A terrible nightmare!
She reached out and clung to Freda. "Jesus, I had such a terrible dream," she sobbed. "I thought I was married and had a child, and.. . "She began to cry in earnest.
Freda laughed a little bitterly. "Married, huh? Well, that's about as bad a nightmare as anybody could have. Well, don't worry. It was only a dream and it's all over."
Tuesday began to get control of herself. "Yeah, you're right.. . it is all over isn't it? Damn, you know for a minute or two there, I was having such a wonderful time. Had my own home. Even had a baby. Ha! That's a laugh. Me, with a baby. I'd be a hell of a mother."
Freda had lighted a cigarette for herself, and she applied the match to another which she offered to Tuesday. "I don't know. You might be a hell of a lot better mother than some of these church-going, hymn-singing hypocrites who show up for preaching on Sunday after they've fucked every
man in the neighborhood in a drunken swap orgy on Saturday night. They're the lowest bitches on earth."
"I don't know," Tuesday said, puffing on the cigarette. "I doubt if they're lower than the trick-shot artist in a whore house;"
"Bullshit!" Freda said. "At least we're honest. Hell, what's dishonest about being a whore? We're just what we claim to be. Those motherfuckers are out singing 'Jesus Loves Me' and doing things in private that would turn your stomach. Listen, not only that, but you remember that every time a respectable housewife gives away a piece of pussy, she's taking the food right out of your mouth. You're okay, and so am I. Hell, go back to sleep, and don't be so hard on yourself."
"Yeah. I guess you re right," she said. "We are pretty good folks."
"We're honest," Freda insisted.
They both had a long, refreshing sleep, and when Tuesday awoke, Freda was already up and out of the room. She looked at the clock. My God! Three o'clock in the afternoon. Damn! The first customers would be coming in before long. Lots of good, solid, suburban middle-class husbands, pillars of strength in their communities, liked to stop off for a quickie on the way home. She had to get up and get ready. But her cunt was torn up! She couldn't take a five-year-old prick that day.
So what? A torn cunt does not mean a useless.
mouth. She could suck 'em when she couldn't fuck 'em.
She dragged herself out of bed. A quick shower. She felt better. A few little efforts at making herself presentable. She was ready. She hoped to suck. She would like to get a guy who wanted to have a fart blown in his face, or one who wanted to fish a turd out of the john, or maybe to sniff her soiled underthings. But she was ready to take anybody.
After all, she had a certain pride. She was a thorough-going, honest whore.
Downstairs, she heard the banging of the door, and the clatter of the glasses as the evening's socializing was beginning. As she combed her hair, she heard the steps creak as the first girls took their men up for the early-afternoon fuck. It wouldn't be long.
"Tuesday? Hey, Tuesday!" the madam's voice floated in from outside the door.
"Yeah. I'm here. Come on in!"
"Oh, I'm glad you're okay," the heavy-set proprietress said. "Freda was telling me you're feeling poorly from some bastard messing you up last night."
"Naw, I'm ready to go," she said, forcing a smile.
"Well, I've given you a little extra time, but we have the order set. We got the district judge coming in for a blow job. He's right in the middle of a big murder trial, and it's the only thing which will settle his nerves. I'm letting Sarah have him.
Then Charlie Franklin called. You know, he's the state senator? He wants to fuck straight out. No class. No originality. I'm gonna let Freda get him off before she gets her main date, the chairman of the school board who'll be in as soon as his wife goes out. He thinks she's fucking a neighbor, but he doesn't give enough of a shit to try to find out. So, we'll handle those two.
"After we get them settled, we got the chairman of the ministerial association, Reverend Harlow Billingsly. He just wants somebody to sit on his face. Don't have to shit; not even fart. Just sit there. Annie doesn't like it, but she'll help out because you're kinda hurt. But if we get another kook who wants anything out of the ordinary
