Dr. Jonas Blake first saw the new nurse's blue eyes across the operating table. He had asked her for a scalpel. Her gaze hung on his for a split second. Then she selected one of the gleaming instruments rowed in front of her, and handed it to him.
He could see only those wide, cornflower-blue eyes. A gauze cap covered her hair, and a mask of the same material hid her lower face. She wore a bulky paper throwaway operating room smock and powdered plastic gloves. Her name was Hearne, R.N., and someone had told him that she had a magnificent pair of breasts. He could see only a bulge of paper smock where her bosom should be.
A stirring in his loins surprised him. Here he was incising a man's belly to remove a diseased appendix, yet suddenly horny for a girl concealed except for her eyes!
Her brows appeared brownish. A redhead?
He wondered why he, a married man, was excited by a pair of blue eyes.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Jane Hearne, R.N., stood at the disposal bin tearing off her paper smock.
Nurse Kelly appeared beside her, removing her gauze cap and mask.
Kelly whispered, "Did you ever see such a cock?"
"What?"
"The patient. That yummy salami between his legs."
The operation had been a routine appendectomy, the young male patient's belly and crotch necessarily exposed.
Jane said, smiling, "Kelly, don't you think of anything but sex?"
She tossed her smock and gloves into the bin, put on her starched cap, and pinned it into her hair. She went out into the corridor of B-Wing-Six smoothing her uniform dress.
She was thinking, My God, Dr. Blake was looking right through my clothes! Those dark eyes of his, staring! It had been grossly impolite and nonprofessional....
Yet, she felt flattered.
Sure, she had noticed the patient's oversize penis. She had chuckled silently, for it had been abnormally long. But a nurse became used to seeing naked genitals. They were just organs, like the liver or spleen.
Had she been rude to Nurse Kelly? She hoped not. Kelly was a pleasant, pretty little thing, with a good sense of humor. This was only Jane's second day at City General, but she already liked Liz Kelly. Well, she had been preoccupied by Jonas Blake's staring at her. He had seemed to look right through her clothes!
She was through for the day. She entered the nurses' lounge, unbuttoning the front of her uniform dress. Two nurses were slumped in armchairs smoking cigarettes. They looked weary. Jane didn't yet know their names. She smiled at them and went through a doorway to the lockers. Beyond was the lavatory and a shower room. That was all the nurses had. City General was really cramped for space.
After opening her locker, she stripped off her white uniform dress and tossed it at the laundry bin. In the mirror on the back of the door she saw her face; makeup okay, her red hair pinned up into a wreath about her white cap. Her face was pretty enough, she thought, but her blue eyes were too wide, giving her a look of innocence that didn't match the lush, plump sensuality of her wide lower lip. She regretted both aspects of her appearance. She didn't wish to appear a naive, dewy-eyed innocent. Equally, she tried to hold down the passions evident in her mouth.
She glanced at her breasts, an overly plump pair thrusting outward. They seemed to stretch every bra she owned. This one was practically transparent, revealing pink aureoles as big as teacups. More important, her nipples were erect, thick protrusions like fingertips. She gaped at them, shocked. Had Dr. Jonas Blake done this to her just by staring through her clothes? God, was she also damp in the panties? She wanted to feel her crotch but a glance at the doorway showed that one of the nurses in the other room was seated facing Jane. She hurried to the lavatory. There she slipped into a toilet booth and shut the door. She reached into the waistband of her panties, felt through her thick, bushy pubic hair down to the plump lips of her pussy. She squeezed them and felt a soft squishiness. She spread them and fingered into hot ooze.
She bit her lip in anguish. Not again! She had sworn off men. She simply couldn't go through that torment again, that being wet down to the knees all day long in expectation of a heavenly fucking in the evening. Worse, what always eventually happened, the end of the affair, and the constant masturbation that failed to relieve the need for hot man meat inside her.
Cursing her own weakness, she returned to her locker and raised on tiptoes to reach to her street clothes, hanging on hooks at the top of it.
* * *
Nurse Liz Kelly entered the locker room and saw Jane stretching upward to lift clothing off the top locker hooks. Reaching on tiptoes lengthened her buttock and leg muscles. Liz sighed. Jane was the most gorgeous female that she had ever seen, long-legged and high-rumped, tiny-waisted. And those glorious big tits! And her lovely mass of soft auburn hair, and that lush mouth that Liz wanted so desperately to kiss.
Liz Kelly had fallen head over heels in love with her.
Jane was putting on a sweater and slacks. She was frowning, angry at something.
Liz asked, "Jane, did I offend you when I said how big that patient's prick was?"
Jane looked startled. "Oh, Liz, I didn't see you. I was thinking about something else. You mean the appendectomy? He really had a huge penis, didn't he?"
Liz nodded. "He's a nice kid, too. I prepped him for the operation. He was so cheerful, in spite of the pain. He's a college boy named Carson."
"Well, that big thing of his won't do you or the college girls much good until his incision heals."
"I'll have to content myself with peeking under his sheet at it."
Jane laughed. She was dressed now. She seized up her coat, slammed her locker door shut, and hurried out, waving good-bye to Liz.
Liz watched her go. She sighed . Jane had been nude when Liz first saw her, the evening before in the nurses' shower room.
Liz had just gone off shift, so tired that her rump had felt weighted down to the backs of her knees. Standing under a warm shower spray, she had felt like sitting on the tile floor and bawling with fatigue.
Then into the shower room had walked a naked goddess, a redhead. Nobody would ever miss that. Auburn with dark shadows, glossy hair tumbling to her shoulders. Liz had gazed at big, wobbling breasts with bulging pink crowns, huge aureoles, the kind that puffed out, extending thick nipples. Jane had a wealth of pussy hair, auburn or maybe brownish, a large curly triangle of it bunched and bushy on her mound, thick and forming little beards between her pearly thighs.
The goddess had murmured a greeting to Liz, and turned on a shower, her back to Liz. Her rump was high-sprung and dimpled, firm, high white globes. In the under-cleft was a fringe of long hair.
Liz Kelly had said, "Hi!" without seeing Jane's face. Only her red hair, which grabbed the eye; and her body, that big-titted, hairy-crotched luscious body that made Liz drool, for she had a thing for other girls. Oh, she dug guys, sometimes too much. She swung both ways. But the sight of Jane Hearne had made her heart flutter, and in her belly an oozing began, a vaginal action quickly bedewing her thighs.
Liz had forgotten her exhaustion and turned to wondering how she could get this redheaded goddess into her bed.
* * *
Jane Hearne pushed out the glass doors of the main hospital entrance and raised her coat collar about her face to keep out the cold.
Dr. Jonas Blake was a handsome devil.
He was married.
That was neither here nor there, for Jane wasn't playing the marriage game. She had become a Ms., a determined Women's Lib Ms., her own boss and no man's Mrs. She was no more or less than Ms. Jane Hearne, R.N., career woman, age twenty-four, I.Q. 128, specific measurements 39-26-37, thanks to gymnastics three nights a week-floor exercises, balance beam, and parallel bars. She was firm of breast and flat-tummied, strong behind, and lithe of leg. But the gymnastics, the physical thing, was just a matter of keeping her health and self-respect. What mattered was the 128 I.Q. and to keep it growing. Tuesday and Thursday evenings she attended a course in embryology at the university. She planned on getting her B.S. in another two years.
Her bus came. She climbed aboard. There were no seats so she grabbed an overhead strap. Her legs ached, for she hadn't sat down all day.
She liked City General. Oh, the hospital was too big and terribly overcrowded, but the hustle and bustle challenged her, and in all the turmoil she found an anonymity that she desired. Her department at Presbyterian Clinic had been under the iron heel of Dr. Klinger, a male chauvinist pig who had viewed nurses as slaves, who had made floor supervisors of those girls who had served him best on their backs on his office couch. The bastard!
The bus was swinging through the gray heart of the city where the March wind blew trash flying, then veered out to Lake Boulevard through the park. There were four lakes. In the old days they had been boggy places the city had shrunk away from. Now they had been dammed and dredged and reshaped, and fashionable Charles-burg had gravitated to them. Dr. Jonas Blake had a house there. Jane lived beyond, in a decent old suburb, shaded by big maple trees.
She got off the bus and breasted the wind a half block to the modest two-story clapboard house where she had grown up. It was well kept, for Dad liked carpentering and painting and gardening far better than his work as a bank teller. Mother's car was in the drive. Mother was an executive secretary who brought home a bunch more money than Dad did.
In the living room Jane found Dad watching the TV. He was a fine-looking, large man. Jane had inherited his red hair and blue eyes. He was quiet, unaggressive. That was his trouble, in Mother's opinion.
Jane swooped down on him and kissed his cheek and gave him a hug.
He said, "You're in a good mood, honey. In love?"
"No! A good day. And something amusing in the operating room."
"Like?"
She giggled. "Oh, it's inside stuff. I guess it would sound kind of raunchy outside the hospital. Let me go get rid of all these clothes."
She sailed off toward her room. She heard Mother clattering dishes in the kitchen, and called a greeting to her.
Her mother replied, "Cocktail, Jane? Dry martini?"
"Okay. Out in five minutes."
Her room was on the first floor, well lighted, with its own bath. She tossed her coat on the bed, then peeled off the sweater and slacks she had changed to at the hospital. She still wore her white nurse's stockings, and white shoes with flat crepe soles. She customarily used stockings and a garter belt instead of panty hose for reasons of thrift. She was proud of her bank account. She pulled the garter belt up out of her panties to get at the hooks, wrestled it free, unsnapped the garment, and dropped it on her dresser as she went through to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
She pushed her panties down and squatted on the toilet to pee.
Jonas' dark eyes were like Bill Tyler's, she thought. Well, face it, you dig a certain type of man. But Bill had been such a bastard. Did all girls learn about sex in painful fashion?
Her bra felt too tight. She curled an arm behind her back and unhooked it. The weight of her breasts jerked the sheer nylon. She brushed the straps from her shoulders, then peeled the cups down her breasts, an out-thrusting pair of melon-size tits that made men hard in the pants, dammit; she wished that she weren't so blatantly sexual in appearance. She wanted to be herself, Ms. Jane Hearne, not a pinup, not a sex kitten, not just a pair of big boobies. Other girls envied her mammary development, but Jane wished that her intelligence stuck out instead of her tits. Worse, her oversize puffy aureoles pushed out her nipples. Often they showed right through her bra and uniform.
When she was about fourteen she had joyed in her growing titties, and had found that massaging them could almost bring her to orgasm. Rid of the bra, she automatically kneaded her breasts, and felt the nipples bulge against her palms. The warmth thus engendered went right down to her crotch. Shamelessly she tweaked the thick nipples. She liked masturbating. She had never felt guilty about it as some girls did. Naturally, having her breasts sucked was better than this. The first time that Bill Tyler did it she had cum, and when he took off her panties they were soggy with vaginal juices.
Six years before. She had been eighteen. After a thousand protests she had found his fat-knobbed penis pressing at the lips of her pussy. Her position was cramped, lying on the back seat of Bill's car, but heaven opened up when that plushy bulge squeezed her labia apart and eased up her narrow but slippery body hole. And when Bill's stiff prick was fully inside her, his testicles resting in the crack of her behind, his loins flattening her clit, she had cum so hard that her cunt had squished audibly.
Squatting on the John-she still hadn't peed-she gazed down at her fluff of pussy hair, split on her lips. She saw her glossy pink clit poking out into view, erecting as she thought about being fucked, and as she pulled her nipples out to long, thick pegs. She was passionate, sexually hot, no denying that. However, she would never let her own body use her. Not since Bill.
That bastard.
If only Jonas Blake didn't look like him!
She had appreciated the danger that very first night in Bill's car. After her violent cum, she had lifted a leg and hung her ankle on the backrest of the front seat, then curled her other leg about him. His long, rigid cock had begun to saw in and out of her. "Ooooohhhhh!" she had gasped when it slid to the very depths of her belly, and "Aaaaahhhh!" as it tugged out, pulling against the suction of her squeezing vagina. She had braced her ankle on the front seat, her other heel pressing Bill's spine, and arched up to meet his thrust.
She had panted again when the glorious, soft-capped bone pierced her narrow hole and stretched it to contain his thick cock. His nuts flopped softly into the crack of her ass, and when he was in deep he sort of screwed around, crushing her clit, and before long she had another orgasm, a quick little one, a minor convulsion of her belly, but it fairly steamed his prick.
"Jane!" her mother called from the hall. "Your cocktail is getting warm."
She jerked her thoughts to the present. She was sitting on her John pulling her tits. She still hadn't urinated.
"Be right out," she said.
But she dropped a hand to her pussy and, with the tip of a long, slender index finger, nudged her slippery pink slit.
A jolt of fire shot through her belly.
She caught her breath. There, inside. So hot! She pinched the slippery bud and tugged it. It was like pulling a fiery net that drew her vagina into a knot, squirting juice out to her labia. Her breath whooshed out, "Ooooohhhhh!" She leaned forward, saw her tits hang out, her pink aureoles puffed to cones, extending her rigid nipples. She bent a nipple while doing the same to her clit, and a bolt of fire squirmed through her from each hot point and joined in her belly, bursting like a liquid firecracker. "Aaaahhh, good!" she gasped.
She gazed down at her breasts, at the slender fingers plucking at the left nipple. She enjoyed the sight of the long white slope, the aureole disc bigger than the palm of her hand, the nipple as thick and long and stiff as any that she had ever seen. Looking at her own body turned her on. Not that she was vain. She was firm in her wish that she weren't built so lustily. But privately, when masturbating, she let her gaze roam over her curves and planes and dimples, enjoying the sight as though she were a man. It was nobody else's business. In fact, a psychology professor had once said in a lecture, You must like yourself before you can like anybody else. Well, she liked Ms. Jane Hearne, liked gazing between her titties at her slightly rounded white belly, at the lush, dark, auburn hair fringing it, a finger-deep fluff on her mound, between her legs curling out against her gleaming thighs, even though she had spread them wide. Her thighs were full, stretching her white nurse's stockings. This body, she thought, should have been quite enough to satisfy Bill Tyler.
But, no. The horny bastard! At a dance given by her nursing school she had introduced Bill to Nellie Wallace, a mousy girl that Jane had thought no threat. But a week later Bill had plugged Nellie. And he knocked her up. The little simp! Imagine, a nurse not knowing about contraceptives! Nellie's father had gone to see Bill's father, a gun in his pocket. They were now married six years.
Jane had learned her lesson. Take the pill and stay away from horny guys. Oh, she had fallen a few times since Bill. But, gradually, she had drawn into herself, dedicating herself to her career, to making Ms. Jane Hearne someone she could be proud of. She would depend on nobody! She had her R.N., her bank account, her physical fitness from gymnastics, and in two years she would add a B.S. to her Ms. and her R.N.
As to sex, she masturbated.
Her clit was growing. It was a large one, and extremely sensitive. Just bending it back and forth like a light switch shot the most delicious thrills into her belly. While doing this she fingered her outer labia, plump, bushed with .soft hair. Then the inner lips, as slick as jelly, swelling out like flower petals. She traced them to her fuck-hole, which was drooling, and rather narrow because she could count on her fingers and toes the number of times a cock had been shoved into it.
Her cunt felt so hot and drooly that she decided to use the vibrator. She rose and opened the medicine cabinet, took out the cock-size plastic rod, and a hand mirror. She placed the mirror on the floor against the bathtub, angling it up at her crotch. She squatted on the toilet again, spreading her legs, giggling when she saw how red and open her cunt was. And just glistening with desire!
She inserted the curved, tapered end of the vibrator, watched her hairy lips close on it, then pressed the trigger button.
"Oooohhh," she cried as it shook her cunt. She raised off the John seat and hipped into it, impaling herself on the six-inch gadget, feeling the quivering of her vagina rise in her body, a series of scalding waves shaking her to the eyeballs.
She was starting to cum.
"Oooooohhhh," she whispered to herself. "Come good, Janey, come sweetly, come squirty! Let it go, baby, let it all go!"
She jerked her hips and pulled her nipples as the quivering inside of her became explosive. In the mirror against the tub she saw the end of the white vibrator buried in her cuntal hair, which was all slobbery, and her fingers wet. Drool was running down her thighs to her stocking tops.
She arched against the unbearable heat, humped at it, her tits swinging like bells.
Then it burst and her face flamed and her tits burned as they jostled about, and she came all over, every cell in her belly exploding in unison.
She fell back on the john seat, panting, slack with relief but still humping and cunt-sucking the buzzing and shaking instrument that filled her hole.
CHAPTER TWO
Jane put on a dress and joined her parents in the living room.
Ma was elegantly slender, a handsome woman with darkish hair helped by tints. She wore a slacks suit. She lived in them. The outfit was tailored and her hands were manicured and her sandals had cost twice what Jane would spend. An executive secretary had to make a good appearance.
She said, "Jane, Dad said there was something amusing in the operating room. It sounds like black humor." She shuddered. "How could anybody even smile when they're hovering over somebody who is being carved open? "
"The operation was as simple as pulling a tooth." Jane curled up in her chair, sipping her dry martini. "But, Ma, you wouldn't approve. I shouldn't have mentioned it."
"It's dirty, then! It was a mistake to let you go into nursing. It makes you calloused about the human body, it's functions, and all those coarse things. I wanted you to be a teacher. It's more dignified. Maybe when you get your degree you could teach...."
Dad said, "She could teach reproduction."
Jane giggled.
Mother tossed her head. She looked daggers at both of them, got up, and swept out to the kitchen.
Dad said, "She never managed to make a prude out of you, Janey. Thank God. Hey, while she's gone, tell me about the guy on the operating table."
"I should tell you about Nurse Kelly instead. She's a cutie with a sassy tongue. But what happened, the patient had an oversize sex organ. Afterward Kelly asked me-so suddenly-Dad, I'll have to use her word-she said, 'Did you ever see such a big cock?' "
Dad burst into laughter.
Jane found that she was blushing. She didn't ordinarily exchange such confidences. Why? Because she would talk about anything to sidestep the fact that Dr. Jonas Blake had made her pussy steamy by just looking at her.
Dammit, she wouldn't give in to him!
* * *
The following morning Jonas Blake had his nose in a coffee cup when Jane Hearne swung past his office.
Yesterday he had seen only those blue eyes. Now he saw the curves and the red hair, and long, flashing legs. He was sitting on his desk. He made the doorway with a single step and peered out, and saw her down the hall, hams moving vigorously under the skirt of her slick white dress. Straight back, strong shoulders for a woman. Her red hair was pinned up, her cap chalky on top of it. She was in a hurry, but there was a sensual roll to her behind, and he watched it until she turned into a room.
Frankly, she made him feel horny.
He stuck his nose back into his coffee cup, feeling slightly lousy, a bit of a hangover. They had played bridge the night before, which Madge liked and he didn't, and he had drunk too much in order to endure it.
Nurse Hearne emerged from the room and came striding toward him. Christ, what a pair of tits! They jumped, wobbled, jiggled. Blue eyes beamed at him. She smiled. Plump lower lip. Dimples. Not a smile, a grin; few women grinned, but she did, as though he were a friend instead of a man.
"Good morning, Doctor," she called cheerfully.
"Hum, Miss Hearne," he mumbled as she swept past with a jiggle of tits and a wobble of behind.
Her uniform was immaculate, and she glowed with health, enthusiasm, self-assuredness. Jonas Blake thought that if he were to describe a perfect young nurse it would come out Jane Hearne. But he was a cynic who didn't believe in perfection. Even Miss Hearne was flawed, for like every woman she had a hairy-edged hole under her belly, a gap in the smooth contours of her form, a gash into which the curves flowed, and when a hard penis slid up that orifice she was someone else, the perfection set aside or sluffed off. Not believing in perfection, the cynic in Jonas Blake yearned to dispel the illusion by pronging into Miss Hearne's vagina.
He turned back into his cubbyhole office and squeezed in between bed and desk to his chair and folded his lanky form into it. On the desk was a stack of patients' charts. He had already thumbed through them. It was one of those days when every patient was progressing splendidly. City General was a madhouse but Jonas' section of it was performing as though computerized. Nurses smiled, patients healed, food came hot from the diet kitchen, and Jonas' fellow doctors kept away.
He shifted his legs and discovered that his penis was erect.
Miss Hearne, you shouldn't have done this!
Funny. The day before she had been only a pair of powder blue eyes between gauze cap and gauze mask. But she had gotten to him, as though he had seen those jiggling tits and the rolling ass. What was in her eyes?
Smugness?
Fur appeared in the doorway, a fluffy collar of white fox with a matching Russian-style hat, and between a pale gold face and violet eyes, a few blonde curls, beauty off a cameo; Madge, his spouse.
"Darling, I ran out of money."
He tried to rise to greet her but the chair bumped the bed behind and his thighs hit the desk and he bounced back down. Escaping this desk was a maneuver. So she leaned across the desk and kissed him, opening her coat to give him a glimpse of her high breasts pushing their nipples out at a silk dress. That meant her call would be expensive.
She perched on the desk. "Jonas, this office is the end! A bunk bed, a desk, a file cabinet. Are you a doctor or an orderly?"
He could say that some doctors were tripled up in such offices, but that wasn't the point. She was harping on it again; get into private practice and milk the patients for a hundred thousand a year, sit behind a mahogany desk big enough for Ping-Pong and act pompous.
His eyes narrowed. He squirmed to get at his wallet. "How much do you need, Madge?" he asked.
"There's a copy of a Paris original down at the Sylvia Boutique, you'll just love it, darling." She flung back the wings of her coat to demonstrate, hands caressing her cone-shaped breasts. "It fits like a glove, I mean, some would call it too sexy but I know your tastes."
His tastes at the moment were a good deal larger than what his wife was going to clothe in a Paris original copy. Miss Hearne's bouncing boobs still filled his vision, and thinking of them made his prick throb.
"Two hundred?" he asked.
"Well, it's marked down, you see?"
"Two-fifty?"
"It sounds like a lot but there's the country club dance coming up."
He handed her his wallet, not wanting to know how much. He kept lots of cash, hated writing checks. Besides, when Madge had spent it, it was gone and she couldn't spend anymore. He had long ago refused to have anything to do with charge accounts or credit cards, much to Madge's displeasure.
As she extracted wads of greenbacks from the wallet she said, "Last night Dr. Wilson said he couldn't understand why you wouldn't come in on his new clinic."
"Because Wilson is a vampire who sucks not blood but money, because I earn enough here and I like working my ass off, and right now I have to study these charts to find why all my patients are dying." He picked up the sheaf of charts and shook them.
"I love you when you're angry," Madge cooed, bent over and kissed him, buttoned her coat, and went off with a fistful of cash, leaving a very thin wallet on his desk.
Jonas wondered if his wife could be shacking up with that cocksucker of a Dr. Wilson, a quack who couldn't take out an appendix if the directions were written on the patient's abdomen. The son-of-a-bitch drove a car so expensive that when Madge climbed into it she practically came.
Jonas' day was spoiled.
Worse, Miss Hearne chose that moment to fly past his door, smiling broadly at him, titties bouncing, her lush ass all a-jiggle.
His prick leaped up to full erection.
* * *
Liz Kelly had been busy, but she had missed nothing happening in the lime-green corridor of B-Wing-Six.
She had seen Madge Blake in her white fox collar and hat, a frosty bitch of a classy hooker, descend on Jonas to milk the medical profession. Jonas deserved better. He deserved Liz. Well, she would turn him down, for while she fell in love often it was always with some ass and Jonas wasn't one. But she liked him.
Except when he stared at Jane Hearne and his dark eyes grew to liquid coals, and then Liz hated him without being sure if it was jealousy, if she were herself in love with Jane, or just left out, the third wheel on a bicycle.
She entered the room of the appendectomy, Hank Carson, a junior at Charlesburg U., age twenty, whose over-size penis had amused her the day before in the operating room.
"I have to pee," he said.
He had already been up. Dr. Jonas moved his patients quickly to prevent adhesions. Most protested, preferring the old-fashioned way of letting them be good and sick for a week flat on their backs.
She said, "I'll call the male nurse."
"I don't need that much help; just steering to the John...."
"And somebody to take it out for you? " She sat on the edge of the bed, fingering his pulse, her gaze falling automatically to her wristwatch. He was a nice-looking boy, blonde, a friendly face. But she was thinking of Jonas. A big penis didn't make a man. There had to be sufficient age to respect, for one thing. Jonas was ten years older than Liz. Anyhow, she liked this Hank, and enjoyed teasing him. He was a bit brassy, and raunchy talk did a lot for his spirits.
He whispered, "Look, if you want to just sneak your hand under the sheet and give a pull or two, I won't tell anybody."
"That's the best offer I've had all day. Why is your pulse racing? Afraid I might do it?"
"I implore you. Liz, please pull my wick?"
"You horrid thing, I'm a virgin." She rose and went to the door, wagging her behind for his benefit. She heard him laugh, then groan as the laugh got to his stitches. She smiled. It was good to have kids in the wing. They would survive. They kept you going with the old ones who wouldn't.
She passed Jonas' office and saw him glumly thumbing through charts. He waggled fingers at her. She waggled back. Almost past, she decided he needed cheering up even though she kind of hated him now for that odd Hearne-conflict thing. She stuck her head in and said, "The appendix wanted me to help him into the John."
"How did it feel?"
"Kind of soft, at first."
"Kelly, I'll report you to the supervisor!"
"And I'll tell your wife about you and me." She went on to the nurses' lounge, a deadly place of metal and cold tile, with a couple of armchairs, a makeup table, a double bunk, a John, and lockers. On the lower bunk lay Jane Hearne smoking a cigarette. In the sterile room she looked as fresh and pretty as spring flowers.
Liz flung down into an armchair. Jane tossed her the pack of cigarettes. She had opened the top buttons of her uniform dress and Liz could see one breast in a thin bra, a snowy hillock looming in her vision. Liz squirmed. Her lips felt dry. Dam-nit, she did have a thing for this Hearne!
Jane asked, "Was that Dr. Blake's wife? The white fox?"
"Who did you say-she-fox?"
Jane grinned. "She does look like a bitch, doesn't she?"
Liz lit her cigarette. She saw that Jane's lower lip was the plumpest, the softest of cushions. She wanted to taste it, suck it. She tore her gaze away. She knew she would never get to first base with Jane. Have an affair with somebody else. A change of pace. Forget this girl.
But she asked, "Hearne, do you have a steady guy?"
"Had one once. He knocked up my girlfriend and I got cured." Jane glanced at her watch. She stubbed out her cigarette and got up. She went to the makeup table and leaned over it, fixed her hair in the mirror, and went out.
Liz cocked up a leg. Her skirt fell back. She fingered her pussy. She rarely wore panties, had none on now. Her lip fur was damp. Her hole was starting to open. Dammit, she was hot for Janey girl! She pressed on her black-haired outer lips, opening her split, and gently stroked the slippery flesh between. She shivered. She had gone without sex for a while, for one reason or another, a guy out of town, a girl friend who had gotten married.
She rose and tossed her cigarette in the ash tray and went out, pensive now. It was a quiet hour, eleven. Most of the patients were dozing. No O.R. until afternoon. Passing Jonas' office she saw him gazing moodily at the hall. She stopped and leaned against his doorjamb.
"Trouble?" she asked.
His gaze was absent. He frowned. He glanced at her then, at her eyes. He said, "Kelly, you're a nice girl."
For some unaccountable reason she blushed.
He said, "I'm tired of being stared at by everybody passing in the corridor. Come in and shut the door."
She did that, then leaned back against the door avoiding his gaze. Her heart was doing some odd fluttery things.
He said, "They're all on the make except you. You seem to live in the moment for the people around you. It's damn nice."
Liz Kelly did feel each moment very keenly, and worked on impulses. She knew in her heart what Jonas needed, and she moved, in between the bed and the desk, bending over him and pressing his head to her breast. She held him, a hand cupping a rawboned shoulder, and rubbed her cheek on the top of his head. She guessed she was still warm inside from gazing at Jane. That was part of it. Looking down she saw that his prick had risen up, ridging his white pants. She didn't think that she had caused it. Jane, or else his wife, but that didn't matter. Anyhow, it wasn't he who had dampened her pussy lips.
He whispered, "Go lock the door."
She obeyed. Then she stood backed to it, eyes downcast, blushing again as he climbed out from behind his desk and came to her, hands on her hips, rising up her waist to the sides of her breasts as he bent and kissed her. She arched in to him, her hands vining up his back to his neck. He was kissing her gently, and it was all very tender. She had never kissed him before or flirted with him except New Year's Eve, but now it was happening and she liked it, the hard feel of his muscles and his angularity, and his cock pressing her belly, and his thumbs now rubbing her nipples. She knew it was all right. She could feel that it was. Her body had gone soft and was molding to his. She felt terribly glad she was a girl; God knows being female was often a nuisance but not now, as she let her mouth yawn and took in his strong tongue and softly sucked it.
His hands going immediately to her breasts would have offended some girls. It pleased her. Coyness made her want to spit. Man and woman together meant sex and her breasts were sexy, so there. For her part, she wriggled her belly against his hardening penis, and lost herself in a rosy haze of well-being.
Janis Hearne was forgotten. Let her keep an eye on the patients. Liz heard the office squawk box blurt. "Dr. Elstein to surgery, please." The hospital wouldn't leave private their affectionate, salving kisses here in Jonas' office, but they were used to that. In this teeming honeycomb of a sick factory, they were enslaved by the appendix that decided to burst, the pedestrian who jaywalked, the toddler who liked the taste of scouring powder. So Liz clung to Jonas' back and sucked his tongue and rubbed her belly on the rigid length of his horny dong, shunting to a corner of her mind the rest of the hospital.
His hands circled her back and fumbled with her bra hooks.
She whispered, "We shouldn't undress all the way." While he unfastened her bra she unbuttoned her uniform dress. It opened to the waist. When the bra came free his hands invaded her front and she sighed chokingly when his fingers kneaded the plump luscious breasts.
By impulse and through native honesty, Liz slid a hand down between their bodies and grasped the bulging head of Jonas' cock.
He said, "It doesn't measure up to your appendix patient."
He was expecting her to make a joking reply. Didn't he know that she needed no jokes when a man she liked was caressing her breasts, when she had the ultimate security of his cockhead in her cupped palm? She smiled up at him, thinking how beautiful his dark eyes were. He kissed the point of her turned-up nose. She thumbed up his zipper to the tab, pinched the bit of metal and drew it scraping down. His prick slid out hot and hard into her waiting hand.
Liz shivered with pleasure.
Jonas felt the throbbing in his cock become violent as Liz's soft fingers kneaded it.
He couldn't quite believe that his hands were squeezing Liz's naked tits, that she had taken out his penis. Their bawdy chatter had always kept them at arm's length. She was a luscious little piece of woman, no denying it, and had he been a philanderer he would have tried to make it with her long before. But he got enough screwing with Madge, and Liz's friendship was what really counted. Thus, Liz had seduced him.
He wouldn't ask why. He kissed her cheek, as white and smooth as a gardenia petal, then her upturned nose and her lips as slick as cream. She was smiling.
He moved from her, tore off his white jacket and his necktie, kicked off his shoes. Liz bent over to remove her shoes and her breasts hung out, a lush pair with big red crowns that made his mouth water. He took her arm and turned her to the narrow bunk bed. Still smiling at him, she dropped down on it, drawing her skirt up above the tops of her white stockings. He glimpsed dark pussy hair. No panties. How nice, Liz! I like that, no panties.
He unbuckled his belt and unhooked his pants waist, let his pants fall as he climbed onto the bunk bed and looked down at Liz, her eyes hooded now, her gaze turned away. A blush colored her cheek. Yes, Liz blushed, Liz, the bawdy jokester! Her titties quivered on each breath. They stood high, the red cone tips pointing slightly outward. As he watched she drew her skirt up to her waist, baring a curly black triangle of pubic hair, and above it the silky white band of her garter belt cutting across her abdomen. He wished that they were naked but only six feet to his left was the hall, bustling with nurses and wheelchairs, and soon the diet wagons would roll; over the door was the white squawk box with a round black screen. At any moment it could call for Nurse Kelly or Dr. Blake. He would have to zip up over his erection, she hitch her bra and button her uniform dress....
Yet he was in no hurry. Nor did she seem to be, smiling and gazing sidewise at the wall.
He bent down and kissed her cheek. He rested on an elbow, closed a hand on her left breast, gently kneading the firm fullness of it, and rubbing his thumb on the nipple.
Her fingers combed into his hair. She turned her head. Their lips met, hers open, her tongue-tip in them, fluttering now, flagging at his extending tongue, touring his lips. Then her mouth yawned and she took the long thrust of his tongue and gave a whimper of passion, and he felt her whole body squirm.
"Ooooohhhh," she panted.
He asked, "Happy?"
"Uh, huh. Yes, that's it. Happy. That's the word."
Again he kissed her, licking into the softness of her mouth, down the trough of her tongue as her creamy lips sucked his. She nibbled, teasing, then drew a deep breath and shuddered and sucked more strongly on his lingual thrusts.
Shortly he moved down her throat, kissing the softness of it to the rise of her breast, a slope crowned by an aureole darkening with passion, bearing a nipple peak that was stiffly erect. He kissed and licked up the mound to the big red cone, toured it with his tongue, laid little sucking kisses on the taut flesh. When he at last swiped the nipple with his tongue tip, Liz moaned, "Oooohhhh, Jonas! Oooohhh, how wonderful!"
He curled his tongue around it. The nubbin stiffened. Glistening with his saliva, the nipple grew taller, the turgid surface a deeper red. He lipped the succulent bit and tugged it, and heard Liz groan with pleasure. He swabbed the whole tit crown with his tongue and then pressed his open mouth to it.
Liz was trembling in anticipation.
He suckered fast, filled his yawning mouth with tit.
"Oooohhhh!" she gasped. "Jonas, too much-but don't stop...."
He licked about the bulging nipple and aureole as he sucked, then filled up, nipple in his throat, his hand forcing more breast into his oral cavity. Sucking strongly, he wagged his head, tugged, then pressed to her, burying his nose in mammary flesh.
"Jonas," she whispered. "You'll make me cum."
He tongued out his delicious mouthful. "You cum pretty easy then, Liz."
"I didn't say that. I said, what you're doing to me, I can feel it in my vagina. like I'm in love with you. But I'm not, because love hurts. This is just plain yummy. My pussy is so wet! Feel it, Jonas."
He turned to her crotch and saw that her thighs were spread, her lip hair glistening with vaginal dew. Her outer lips had swollen, spreading apart to reveal her extended coral labia. Jonas moved his hand down her belly to her thigh and stroked satiny white skin. It quivered under his touch. His hand roved over her protruding mound and his fingers raked through the luxurious silky bush, the hair pad that would cushion his loins. He closed his hand on her vulva and squeezed it. He heard a squirty sound.
Despite the presence of the squawk box over the door, which had made some new sounds, "Nurse Johnson to six-o-five; Doctor Harris to X-ray," his mood was unhurried, and now he toyed with Liz Kelly's juicy twat as though he had all day to spend. He parted her lips and touched the slick pink bump of her clit. She jerked. He bent down to it and smelled the sweet tanginess of clean, hot, female musk. To show his affection he lowered and chinned into her soft bush and tongued the dainty clitoris.
"Jonas!" she groaned.
The odor of cunt inflamed his senses. He licked down her quivering split. He paused to mouth a hairy lip, then swabbed her trough with the breadth of his tongue. When he reached her vaginal mouth he was on fire, and licked up it, his tongue flagging wildly, touring the rim, whipping at the slippery, elastic flesh.
Then she said, "I'm starting to cum, Jonas, you'd better screw me before I flip out of my cotton pickin' mind!"
Her hips were beginning to heave. He sucked at the flow of juice drooling out of her vagina. God, she had a luscious cunt! The epitome of femaleness, wide open now, livid in color, and honeyed from the notch of her clitoral hood down her gash to her yawning vagina. It was time.
He raised up and climbed over her leg into the cradle of her upraised thighs. She seized her knees and drew them back beside her breasts, opening her crotch wide until all he could see was her hair-edged red-pink gash, which seemed very long, and the darkness of her rounded hole, and below, some thin hair leading to the pink pucker of her ass-hole.
He lowered, angling his cock down toward her drooling cuntal orifice. His organ was so turgid that it turned upward toward the end, which had swollen out, flaring like a cobra's hood, a soft-shod, blunt arrowhead. As he neared, Liz's hand darted down and grasped his stem to steer it. Funny, he thought. Many women wanted the man to do it, to shove in on his own, in a way violating them. Having done nothing but let themselves be used, they took no responsibility for the act. Madge was like that. But Liz could never even contemplate such a cheating of her honest sensuality.
She nipped it into the mouth of her hole, held it down with her thumb while her fingers prowled in search of his scrotum. He lowered an inch and his cockhead squeezed into her vagina, and Liz's hand closed on his testicles.
"You have such big balls I" she panted.
Slowly his stem entered her steaming cavity. Her vagina was in motion, undulating on each inch of cock sis it entered. Inside was a pumping, drawing, at the fat head of his distention, which was stretching her. Liz's vagina was narrower than Madge's, and who's done the most fucking? He wondered about that but not seriously, for what counted was the incredible suction inside her, the vaginal walls oozing and clinging to his prick. Full in, he pressed his loins to her gash and felt the searing heat right through her pubic hair. His nuts fell against her ass-hole. Fully in, he lowered his torso.
Her hands were on his shoulders and as he came down they circled his back, and then her legs crossed and her heels dug into his spine.
She whispered, "Don't fuck me yet, Jonas."
He chuckled. "What in hell, do you think I'm doing?"
"I mean, don't move. Let me come all by myself, huh? I'm on fire, I just have to get over a peak before I can settle down. Okay?"
The squawk box blared, "Dr. Harris to X-ray, please."
Jonas mimicked it, saying, "Dr. Blake to let girl fuck him."
Liz smiled but it was fleeting. Her color was high. She was quivering inside, too hot for smiling. Her arms and legs tightened on him and she began humping, raising her swampy cunt against his loins, shoving. Then her vagina drew suckingly as she stripped off the stiff curve of man-meat. Bracing harder, she lifted again, shuddering and uttering mewling sounds.
"OOOOOHHHHH, CUM-MING, CUM-MING! MY CUNT, JONAS, OH, IT'S SQUISHING---"
He remained bridged over her, supplying the stiff cock on which her inner belly fluttered and shrank and then whipped into a series of spasms. They became longer and harder.
"OOOOOHHHH," she cried. "I'M CUMMING, JONAS, PLEASE DIG IT IN, POKE ME WITH YOUR COCK, OH, JESUS, IT FEELS LIKE A BARBER POLE INSIDE ME, BANG ME ONCE AND I'LL GO FLYING...."
He rammed in hard and Liz let go, humping up at him, fairly lifting him, squashing her slobbered twat on him. He felt her juice run down his scrotum and, when he slammed in again, his balls splashed in slobber running down from the mouth of her cunt to her ass-hole.
She collapsed, jellied, but her vagina was still sucking at his bloated prick.
CHAPTER THREE
Liz felt gutted but she was still coming, her vagina like a trumpet flower, opening and closing on the long cock that shaped it. She pressed her heels into Jonas' spine and raised a little, rubbing her wide-open twat on his hard loins, then sagged down. A fresh spill of juice slipped out of her hole and ran down her ass and his scrotum.
"Oh, honey!" she murmured. "What a lovely cum!"
"You want another?" He jogged in her, moving just a few inches, but the pressure on her clit drove new waves of heat throughout her belly, and she knew that in a moment she would be humping at him, again grinding through orgasm. Sexually she knew herself pretty well, and now she frowned.
She said, "I do, but, Jonas, when I cum everything goes pink and soft, and I lose track. I mean I slide away from you. I'd rather not cum now. I want to feel what you're doing, you know? I mean the way your cock squishes in and out of me, all that. The trouble is, when you bump my clit I go wild. Suppose I turn over?"
"All right." He drew back and she saw his red cock slide out, dripping juice. When the head was clear it sprang up, so stiff that it seemed to vibrate.
Liz turned over. She got up on knees and elbows. On the wall over the desk she saw a mirror and there she was, ass cocked up, dress bunched around her waist, tits hanging out. Her white stockings and garter belt gleamed. Jonas' enormously long cock stabbed into view, aiming for the fringe of sticky hair below her ass. The bulging red head dipped inside and she felt it stretch her vaginal mouth, reshaping her. He pushed in another inch, and then gave her short, jogging thrusts. His balls swung into view on each stab, one jumping over the other. They sure were big balls. She wondered if Hank Carson's equipment was really any bigger. Just because his penis had been long and fat, when soft it didn't make for a giant erection. Jonas had about all her cunt could take. As a nurse she of course knew how elastic a vagina was, that it would stretch or cling to whatever size of fuck tool was put into it. Anyhow, she had no need for more than that wickedly long curve of bone that Jonas was sliding in and out of her.
She heard her cunt squish, expelling juice and air, and she blushed, but smiled with pleasure, too, proud of being wet and open for Jonas. She watched his scrotum swing in and disappear behind her thigh, flying up to swat her pubic mound, the gentlest of sweet thumpings.
He shoved in, flattening her buttocks. She circled her ass, rotating the long bone of a cock. She watched him back out all the way, the upturned stem and its wide cap twitching, glistening movements in the mirror. She sighed with pleasure on seeing it. She was glad that she had turned over, because the kind of orgasm that she had gotten before was blinding. She quit moving her behind to let him stick it in. There it went, the head spreading her wet-haired cuntal lips, then dashing up the curve of her channel.
When it was in to the root she reached underneath to her pussy and caught his scrotum on the fly. She kneaded it gently, rolling his balls between her fingers.
Jonas groaned. "Baby, that's terrific!"
Smiling, she thumbed into her gash and found her clit. She pressed it and the hot rolling began all over again in her belly, that seething net of fire drawing her vagina tight on the long cock skewering it, until the lively dong felt double-size, and in the mirror Liz's face turned red with coming orgasm.
She moved her hand from the danger spots. Not yet. She didn't want to make him shoot his load yet, or get another orgasm that might paint a rosy fog on the mirror and cut off her view of Liz kneeling in nurse's white stockings and satin-shiny garter belt, a curve of hair showing below her cocked-up ass, and at least seven inches of hard man meat sliding out of that hairy-lipped aperture, pausing to throb once or twice in the cool air, then digging in, sludging through rivulets to the very depths of the hottest little fuck-hole in the hospital.
In deep, he grasped her hips and dug. Loving it, Liz strained back against him. His big organ was throbbing inside her. She savored each pound of his pulse, shutting her eyes to concentrate on it. But she could never be passive. Impish now, she wagged her hips, bending his prick like a tiller. Then she squeezed her vaginal sphincter on the root of it and pulled inside.
Jonas' breath hissed out. "Liz, you'll make me cum off if you do that again!"
She did it again.
"Liz!"
"Jonas, if you're going to blast, let me get on my back."
He nodded and drew the inflamed rod out of , her.
Liz dropped, almost regretting that orgasms would now cut off her view of Jonas fucking her, but she was so hot, her vulva spread out into an oval carmine under the flowing layers of juice, her belly quaking. She seized her white-stockinged knees and pulled them back outside of her breasts. On her back, her tits sloped outward, and between them she could see her white belly fringed with black furriness, and her split muff a broad gap between her thighs.
Into the gap moved the plush-shod wide head of Jonas' penis. He came over her and the head dipped downward, and she could see the whole shank spearing out of his dark cockruff, and his long reddish scrotum loaded with balls. The end slipped into her as easily as a finger. God, she was open! Suddenly she had the whole thing, and shrank her vagina in on it.
"Jonas!" she cried. "Ooohhh, Jonas!" The hard meat in her belly was on fire and swelling up, bloating like a football. Never had she been so full of cock. His loins mashed her clit, spilling molten lava into her, a scalding ooze that inflated the tissues of her vagina until not a hair space remained, and, as the cockbone reamed in and out, her clinging flesh moved with it.
Through a red haze she saw herself in the mirror, her legs cranking through long, hard pulls, straightening out, then the white stockings bending, knees coming back to her tits, leaving her belly split wide open to take all the cock he had. The mouth of her hole was fluttering out to a yawning oval that seemed big enough to take his balls, too.
The mirror view kept flaming out as he socked in on her clit. Between flashes she saw Jonas riding her hard, his muscular body knotting to drive his tool up her hole, his neck muscles cording, his face contorted in a grimace. She read it, all right. The trouble was his wife. He was fucking to get even with Madge, and Liz didn't mind. She hated the bitch. How better could he blow off his resentment than in her willing cunt? Some women disliked being used this way, feeling that it put them down, but in Liz's view they lacked compassion.
"I'm cumming!" he grunted. And Liz felt his prick become stony and double-size. She dug her heels into his back and arched up, whacking her gaping vulva at him, drawing back to cunt-suck his cock as Jonas went rigid all over and he began bucking, lunging through long strokes. His cock-head felt as big as an apple as it roared in and out of her body. Then he let it go.
Liz shrieked as he shot cockspew up her convulsing hole. Fat globs of cream splattered her drooling cavern. She arched up and held herself there bridged, her hips jerking through short, grinding fuck motions as his load flew into the very depths of her being. Her orgasm was as violent as his, her belly gulping at the rampant penis, milking it.
He fired three times, and Liz thought that she had a separate cum on each mighty jolt, but in truth she was so hot, so blinded by orgasm; that she only knew that she had been through one of the best fucks of her whole life.
Jonas had raised up to deliver the contents of his swollen testicles. Now he sagged down on Liz's soft body, panting, burying his lips in her throat. He felt gutted.
His cock was still up her hole, throbbing a little as it spat out the last milks. He felt bodily fluids, hers and his, run out of the mouth of her cunt and dribble down between her ass and his already wet scrotum. Things were liquid as hell down there, every hair and bit of flesh slippery with vaginal slobber.
Liz was a glorious piece of ass and he loved her for it, as well as the other things that she was, but now the kickback of guilt made him shut his eyes and groan. Not because he had been unfaithful to Madge. No. Madge deserved this. But he had used sweet Liz to blow off his anger at his wife, and Liz deserved better. She was a tireless helper, a girl who raised everyone's spirits, and a warm friend to him. If he made love to her it should be because he was crazy about her, not to get even with his wife-and not because Hearne seemed unapproachable.
He felt like a heel.
Liz whispered, "Jonas, I feel so good that if you just kissed my cheek I'd probably cum again." He nuzzled her throat. "I won't. We have to get to work."
She squeezed her thighs in on him and drew her vaginal sphincter tight on his cockstem. Nipped in like that she dug her heels into his back and gave a fuck-jerk. She groaned. "Oooohhhh, there, a spasm. Wow, I'm still cumming, Jonas!"
She humped at him three, four times. Then her breath hissed out as though from a punctured tire, and she collapsed.
At last she said, "You'd better pull out of me. I could lie here all day. Really I could!"
Smiling, he lifted. He looked down between their bodies and. saw his cock rise from her hairy crotch. The stem was dripping, and on it hung gobs of white cockspew. As he climbed off, Liz's legs dropped. They remained sprawled apart, and he saw her twat fur matted down by drool and her gash open, a deep coral in color, like the mouth of her yawning vagina.
He said, "It seems like I've been accumulating semen for months. I sure blew a hell of a lot into you., My balls feel hollow."
She smiled. "It was wonderful, Jonas."
He bent down and kissed her tenderly, saying, "You're a sweetheart, Liz."
He hoped she understood that while he had used her to dispel his frustrations, he was damn fond of her. She meant much more to him than just a quick fuck.
Still, he blamed his wife for triggering this affair. Madge was driving him nuts with her attempts to make him leave the hospital and join that bandit Wilson in the clinic, where he overcharged patients, performed operations to get big fees instead of removing diseased organs, making a mockery of the Hippocratic oath to which all physicians swore.
Screw, Madge, and Wilson, too!
He wondered if they shacked up together.
He knew that Wilson banged his chief nurse, Karen Moore. He also knew that Karen and Madge didn't get along.
Were they jealous of each other, fighting over Wilson?
* * *
Karen Moore, R.N., chief nurse and administrative officer of the Wilson Clinic, had a splendid office next to Wilson's, and an extension to his phone.
She had heard it ring. She had picked it up and heard Madge Blake's voice. And now Karen was phone-eavesdropping on her boss.
She heard Madge Blake say, "I'm shopping. I got a few lousy dollars from Jonas. like pulling hen's teeth!"
Dr. Wilson commented mildly, "It was probably all he could afford."
"The miserable salary they pay him!"
"Darling, I've done all I can. I offered him an office here-as you've said, he's a handsome devil and would draw plenty of rich old women...."
"It makes me furious. I bought one dress, just one, didn't even dare look at a new Givenchy skirt and blouse. Well. Harry, I do want to see you."
"Lunch? We could go out to that place on the highway."
"It's too close to town. Somebody would see us there. Besides, Harry, I feel sort of-volcanic, you know? Meet me at the usual spot, we can have food sent in to the room. One o'clock?"
Karen Moore hung up. She could endure no more. That bitch! Already married to a doctor-wanted another! Karen rose and flung open her closet door, which was backed by a full-length mirror. She patted her hair, dark and sleek, cut in bangs. She had flashing greenish eyes and olive skin. She was damn good looking and well-curved. A girl had to be good looking to get Harry Wilson into her bed. She smoothed her uniform, which was tailored to her figure. She wore three changes a day, damn the expense which, in any case, the clinic paid for in pre-tax money. Her position here demanded that she make a good appearance, to say nothing of the need to be number one in Harry Wilson's eyes.
She had long before given up the notion of getting pregnant by him. The bastard would simply give her an abortion on the house. The only way to marry him seemed to be by becoming indispensable, out of bed and in.
She sprang loose the top button of her dress to give him a peek at her tits, and turned to the door leading to his office. She paused at the door, glancing about at her prizes, a rosewood desk and an antique wall clock, mahogany filing cabinets, a white rug "shoe-deep in nap, an abstract painting that had cost two thousand dollars. All had been bought by the clinic, but the accountant had manipulated it into her name, ten thousand bucks worth. But peanuts compared to the ready money that she would have as Mrs. Harry Wilson.
She opened the door. He was still on the phone, a big blonde man whose hair was thinning,' once a football player, and still flat-bellied from sports, a bulging jaw and beady blue eyes. He had charm but not handsomeness, neither of which mattered a damn to Karen. Or, she thought, to Madge Blake, the vile cunt!
He said, "See you then," and hung up and glanced smilingly at Karen.
She said, "I've settled your afternoon appointments. The first is old Mrs. Greenough, at three."
"And those are valuable kidneys," he mused. "Solid gold. Karen, why do you look so luscious today?"
She thought, Because he's been talking to the Blake cunt and his prick is up as hard as a hammer handle, any broad would look good if available. She said. "Because the weather outside is lousy and you can't look out and dream of the golf course or the tennis courts."
"So my mind turns to indoor sports?" He was grinning, eyeing her breasts.
She raised her arms ostensibly to preen her hair, in fact to lift her tits. She advanced to his desk and leaned over to pick up a sheaf of patients' case histories. She lingered in that position, knowing he could see her breasts almost down to the nipples.
He took the bait, the sucker, reaching to the open neck of her dress and stroking the soft flesh. She lifted an eyebrow, saying, "Do you do that to all your employees? "
"Karen, you know I don't cheat on you."
She was too smart to mention Madge Blake. She leaned closer and he forced a hand into her bra and squeezed a firm tit.
"You make me horny," he said.
She thought, I'll milk you dry, give Madge what's left, a soft prick she'll have to suck to make stand up and she'll hate that. She hates men, anyway. Oh, Karen knew the hostility a woman could feel toward men. Her brother had been sent to college, everything paid, while she was told to make it on her own or else get married. Well, she had made it good, a fat salary and a share in Wilson Clinic, Inc., plus gifts of clothing and jewelry from this man whose steady fuck she had been the past two years. She didn't intend to lose it to the frosty beauty of Madge Blake.
Madge had glamour, rose-gold cameo beauty, and a figure like a snake and something extra, an elusiveness that kept men off balance. What the elusiveness amounted to, Karen thought, was lesbianism. Maybe not. She herself liked a hard dick up her hole. If she got well laid a couple of times a week, her mood was good. If not, she was bitchy. So it was hard for her to judge Madge on that score.
Wilson was licking his fattish lips as he kneaded her tit. She could see his cock forming a long ridge in his pants leg. She smiled secretly. She curled an arm around behind her back and squeezed her bra catch, freeing it. The hand he was forcing into her bra cup suddenly had freedom, and Harry Wilson groaned as he found himself with a handful of soft tit and a dark nipple thumbing out hard.
"Is the door locked?" he asked.
"Of course." She thought, you fathead, all you have is that precious M.D., that license to steal. You don't even know if the door's locked. If it weren't for me you'd be up shit creek without a paddle, but I have to make you think you're boss.
He was up out of his chair, a tit in each hand, leaning to them, his mouth abruptly yawning and clamping on the right one, sucking half of it into his mouth.
Karen sighed deeply, feigning passion. She wasn't in the mood, too wrought up about the Madge Blake cunt, but she had to wilt his prick. Thus, she moaned, squirmed, then did what turned him on, flipped up her skirt and grabbed her twat and massaged it hard. He was watching it. As though frantically hot, she yanked her panty crotch aside, exposing her black-haired crotch, and fingered her vulval lips open.
He suckered off her breast and panted, "Let me do that, Karen."
She choked, "Harry, I'm too hot. God, the way you suck a tittie! No, let's go to the couch." She swiveled away from him, leaving the desk, stooping over peeling down her panties as she went to the couch. There she flopped down, skirt up, legs spread, displaying her hair-edged gash. Wilson came opening his pants. His fat cock leaped into view, a big, red, bulb-headed organ that would stretch many a cunt, but not her open, wet hole. Seeing he intended to shove it right in she grabbed at his thinning blonde hair, tangled her fingers in it, and forced his head down to her cunt.
Eat it, you son-of-a-bitch, she snarled inwardly. You may seem like the big shit around here but to me you're a cunt lapper. Get into that hair pie, you prick!
His thick tongue slid up her hole and Karen released an involuntary groan of passion. His mouth suckered onto her vulva while he licked the walls of her vagina, shooting wet thrills from her hole to her clit. God, but he lapped well! He sucked hard and pulled the core right out of her, and Karen found her hips jerking, squashing her gaping twat at his face. She braced her heels on his back and arched up, humping at him. She still had her white, heeled nurse's shoes on, and her white stockings, bracketing the blonde head between her thighs. She got a flaming, ripping cum that seemed to rend her belly, and his tongue felt as big as a hand in her vagina, flagging it about, and, oh, shit, what a big, hot, juice-spewing cum!
She fell apart. While she was gasping through the aftermath of orgasm, Harry climbed up and sank his prick into her pulsing, yawning, honey-drooling fuck-hole. He kissed her, and she cringed at the taste of her own cunt juice on his mouth. Then he Was panting too hard to kiss her, bucking, driving his meaty prick in and out of her with violent, cunt-busting strokes. But she could take it. Could Madge Blake? Could the Blake twat hide her frigidity from him? She had succeeded with her husband, apparently, so don't underrate the lesbian bitch.
Then Wilson's cock hardened and his strokes came long as he delivered his load. His nuts slapped loudly on her wet ass, and he crunched her clit so hard that she began cumming before his sperm flew. She had her heels dug into his buttocks now and was whacking up at him, meeting every stroke, her vagina sucking loudly and making wet-fart noises, exploding, and on top of her own violent cum he began to fire.
The first dollops of cockspew knocked her right out of her mind.
She lost track of everything then, becoming no more than a sizzling cunt pulling yet another blistering orgasm off the bony tool that was emptying clotted milks into the hole in her belly.
* * *
In her own car, Karen followed Dr. Harry Wilson to the street corner opposite the Five Star Motel. There he parked and went to the public phone booth.
Karen's car was small, a dull blue in color, like a million others, and she knew that he hadn't noticed it as she wheeled into the motel parking lot and hid between a van and a camper. She could see the phone booth. It looked as though he were making two calls. One to Madge,' one to the motel desk. Shortly he got back into his car, drove it up the side street, returned on foot, and crossed the parking lot to a unit Karen could see, Number Fourteen. A uniformed room clerk was already there, unlocking it, leaving as Wilson hurried inside.
Karen waited.
Soon a small yellow sports car wheeled into the lot and parked several units down from Number Fourteen. A woman in a beige coat with a white fox collar matching her hat climbed out and went hurriedly to the unit that Karen was watching. Honey-blonde hair, long, sleek legs. She rapped on the door and, when it was opened, she darted inside.
Karen scowled. Well, she knew for sure that Madge Blake was shacking up with him.
She didn't know if Wilson had another erection in him this soon after she had milked his nuts. She had to assume that he could make it, and study what other weapons were at her disposal. She picked up the blue book that she had brought along, the City Hospital Directory. It was organized both as to departments and usual location. She found the page of B-Wing-Six and scanned the names. Jonas Blake, M.D., resident in surgery. The nurses. Karen knew most of the R.N.S in the city and a good many of the practicals. There a name caught her eyes, Marie Fontaine. The girl had come to the clinic a few weeks before looking for a job. A whining little bitch, Karen had thought.
She drove out of the lot to the phone booth on the opposite corner. There she rang City Hospital and asked that a message be sent to Marie Fontaine asking that she call this number, personal business. That meant that she would have to use a pay phone instead of the switchboard.
If the girl hoped for a job at the clinic, she would have to spy on Jonas Blake.
CHAPTER FOUR
As Madge Blake climbed out of her car, a bit of metal on the door tore her panty hose.
"Shit!" she cried. Any imperfection in her appearance infuriated her. The tear was an inch long, on her shin. As she went to the motel unit, she thought, Wilson will pay for it! It's his fault, begging me to come here to fuck.
Oh, she had teased him into it, but she would blame him anyway, for being a horny male who only wanted to stick his prong into a soft, hurt-able split. She liked her husband better, but she couldn't endure his working for peanuts at City General. Harry Wilson at least had the sense to take advantage of the big money to be made in medicine. And if Jonas didn't see the light, she would divorce him and marry Wilson.
Until the moment of decision, she had to keep them both panting after her.
The torn panty hose made her decide to treat Wilson more harshly than usual. Make the bastard crawl to her, begging for it!
She pushed open the door of the motel unit and slipped inside and saw Wilson grinning at her, a drink in hand. He boozed too much, among other things she disliked about him.
"You look beautiful!" he said.
"I tore my panty hose getting out of the car, darn it."
"I'll buy you a dozen pairs, Madge."
"Today it's one thing after another. I phoned Jonas to make sure he was at the hospital, so there was no chance of him seeing me come here. He told me to meet him at the Steak Club for lunch, and hung up!"
"When?"
"Right now. I can't stay." She tried to look disappointed, while eyeing Wilson. He believed the lie. He was crestfallen.
"Hell," he said. "I had to shift all my appointments to get here. This is pretty lousy, Madge, this catch-as-catch-can lovemaking."
"It's dreadful." She let him take her in his arms. She thought that he might suggest the obvious solution, marriage, but he just held her, his hands kneading her buttocks, which she hated. She said, "Let me take off these panty hose. I can't endure anything torn."
"Honey, I'll do it for you." He lifted her skirt and peeled them down. She eyed herself in the dresser mirror. She still wore her fox-furred coat and matching Russian hat. Fluffy fur did things for her face, emphasizing the pale delicacy of her skin and the smallness of her bones. She struck a pose, glancing sidewise to appreciate her fine profile. Her hair could be shortened, she thought, to make it curl softly against her velvety cheeks. She had used a bit of green eye shadow today. It looked very well but the lipstick was too dark. Not that Harry Wilson would notice. She put on makeup for more perceptive people.
He said, "Honey, lift your foot."
She did and he slipped off panty hose and shoe. She raised the other. He was on his knees. She had an urge to step on one of his hands. Sometimes she just despised him!
Then he opened her coat and stuck his head up under her skirt. She felt his hot breath fanning her crotch, and realized that he had taken off her panties along with the hose. He was nuzzling her bush now.
She protested, saying, "Harry, I must go. Jonas will have all sorts of questions if I'm late."
"Honey, spread your legs and let me give you a kiss where it does the most good."
She smiled. This was the one thing that she liked from him. She raised her skirt and saw his blonde head down there between her legs, his nose buried in her wheat-colored pubic bush, a silky tuft. Her lip hair was thin, like a haze curling about her rather prominent labia. For a woman as slim as she, her prominent mound and quite large and plump vulva were surprising, as was the capacity of her vagina. She could take the biggest cock with ease but without much pleasure. She thought pricks were the ugliest things on earth.
But she liked this, seeing Harry's broad red tongue washing up and down her split. And the feel of it, that slippery, boneless swabbing of her burgeoning clit and her long gash; oh, it was good, making steamy bubbles grow in her belly and expand hotly until they burst with dainty little pops.
She gazed at herself in the mirror, the lovely Madge still hatted and fur-collared, holding up her skirt to let this man kneel between her legs and eat her sweet little pussy. She smiled at herself, and winked. You're doing great, honey! Now if he can be made to lap cunt until you cum-don't let him stick that horrid prick up you and then try to kiss your mouth with his fat lips and strangling tongue-but after preliminary pussy licking he always wanted to mount her. No! Harry, I'll marry your money and let you suck my vagina all you want, but there I'll draw the line!
He was panting. This excited him. Surprisingly, he hadn't made a move to throw her down on the bed. He usually had by now.
She dropped a hand from her skirt and fingered into his hair, drawing him in closer to her drooling cunt.
She whispered, "Harry, that's terrific, don't stop, please. I love it!" And she gazed at herself in the mirror, her pale gold face washed with rose now as her body heated. I look beautiful being lapped, she thought. Again she postured, turning her head this way and that, occasionally glancing at the reflection of the head down between her satiny thighs, below the pearly flatness of her belly, his nose still in her mound tuft.
He blew up her hole, sucked the juice, twirled his tongue about. Madge's legs were starting to bow. She wanted to be on her back now, her legs hung over his shoulders. But if she dropped to the bed he might climb on her and spike his thing up her split.
Her hips were surging. She let her legs bow outward and slowly hipped in, rhythmically fucking his face. Her clit had been licked and sucked to full protrusion, and it was just bursting with heat, firing steamy waves up into her belly. Oh, good. Eat me, Harry. Eat me!
In the mirror her face was darker red. Yes, she was starting to cum. She raised a hand to her breasts and roughed it over the sharp nipples, which showed right through bra and dress. And still Harry didn't suggest that they climb on the bed and fuck! Why not?
She thought of Karen Moore, his head nurse, that brunette bitch with her bangs. Of course! She had long known that he screwed Karen, had known by observing the two of them together even before he had admitted it. So Karen had been at him within the last couple of hours. And now he stalled because his cock was soft.
Madge was grateful for the favor, though for sure Karen had meant it differently. Keep an eye on that fool cunt. She would do anything to marry his bankroll.
She was cumming now, grinding her sloshy cunt at his face her hips jerking almost out of control, juice spilling out and running down her thighs. She pawed roughly at her tits and in the mirror saw her face turn livid and sweat break out on her upper hip as she burst into orgasm.
She groaned wrenchingly, "Harry, suck harder, harder! I have to go. Jonas is waiting for me. Hurry, oh, please, hurry and, yes, stick your tongue right up my hole, I'll cum on it. I'm cumming, cumming, cumming.. HARRY I'M CUM-MING!"
She had crouched down low, banging her yawning vulva at his face and the tongue wagging and flailing about inside it. Her feet were far apart as she hipped in, rotated her ass, squashed her swampy gash on his nose, his chin, feeling his mouth open and enclose the whole hairy crotch and suck, suck, suck!
Her hole belched air and juice as the explosion shook her from toes to furred scalp. She was drowning him in her flow, and, as he gagged, she wished that she had enough control of her bladder to piss in his face at the same time.
At last she was spent, panting but soft all over from the orgiastic release. She sagged against the dresser.
She choked, "Give me my panties."
Still kneeling at her feet he handed them to her. She raised her skirt and rubbed her crotch, wiping away the cunt juice and his saliva. When it was clean she did him one favor, wiped the cuntal juice off his face before throwing the panties toward the waste basket.
In five minutes she was out of the place and driving off in her car, feeling a great deal better for having cum in a way she liked, and thanking Karen Moore for having made it possible.
* * *
Jane saw Liz after lunch that day. The girl was radiant. Her skin had the delicacy of flower petals enlivened by a tint of perhaps a peach color. Her smile was slow, sensual, and her walk a hip-rolling saunter.
Jane said, "You look like the cat that ate the canary. What happened, a pay raise?"
Liz was slow to react. "Me? Oh, no, I just feel good. Do I look good?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been making love to somebody who really did a job on you."
Liz giggled. "But that couldn't happen on duty. You busy."
"No."
"Let's go cheer up our appendix."
They turned down the corridor together. Jane was surprised to feel Liz's hand close on hers. She didn't protest, recognizing the gesture as an overflow of Liz's affectionate nature. They must look like two young teenage girls holding hands, she thought. She hoped nobody had seen them. Other than that she certainly didn't mind.
The appendix, Hank Carson, had a reading tray set up and was scowling at pages covered with mathematical formulas. Seeing them, he clapped the book shut, and thrust a hand to his hair to smooth out the tangles.
He said, "So you're paired up for protection, huh? One I can rape. Two I have to seduce."
Liz told him, "We're slumming. This is the freak room, isn't it? You're the one that gets salt peter in your lemonade, I think."
"Is that what you did? Is that why it stays soft?"
Liz sat on the bedside chair and grasped his pulse, laying her wrist watch on his arm. She said, "We're going to increase the dosage because if it gets stiff that pulls the skin from your wound. We don't want it to tear open."
"But, Nurse, when it starts growing it pulls skin all over my body, I mean it takes up so much slack I can't even close my eyes, there's no skin left to cover them."
"Then the treatment is right for you," Liz said.
Chuckling inwardly, Jane sat on the end of the bed. She wished that she could make such jokes. A cheerful nurse could do a lot for patients. Was she a prude? She hoped not.
Hank said, "Since there's two of you, you could help me to the john and won't have to call the male nurse."
Liz stiffened. "I know you. With one of us on each side of you, you'd rise up like a ball bat and tear out all your sutures."
"What a way to go!" Hank said. He winked at Jane.
Jane blushed. Yes, dammit, she was blushing! To cover up, she pointed to his book and asked, "Algebra?"
"Qual. Qualitative analysis. I'm a pre-med student, see. Because of the nurses. I've been big on nurses since the last time I was in the hospital and she used to walk me to the john. She would sort of lead me by my handle."
"She must have had big hands," Liz said, "to even get a grip on it."
Hank burst into laughter that ended in a groan of pain, and he grasped his stretched groin.
Liz said, "The male nurse has very big hands."
"Oh, shut up," Hank told her, tears running from his eyes as he fought laughter.
* * *
In the hall Liz again caught Jane's hand as they went toward the nurses' lounge. She said, "Hey, tomorrow is Saturday. Want to go to the movies? Or d'you have a date?"
"I haven't anything on."
"Gosh, a beautiful chick like you with no Saturday-night date!"
"There's more important things, Liz. My B.S., for one. I'm pretty determined. And I like to spend some time with Dad. He's great. Why don't you come over for dinner? And then we'll go to the show. Dad would love to meet you."
"Sure! If I had to face another TV dinner I'd upchuck. My roommate's the cook and she's away on weekends, shacking up with her guy."
She squeezed Jane's hand, a quirky, affectionate pressure.
Jane still felt embarrassed at a girl holding her hand in public, but she liked Liz too much to tell her not to.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dad was crazy about Liz. Jane went to the kitchen and helped her mother with supper to leave the two alone in the living room with their cocktails, Dad red-faced with laughter over Liz's hospital stories. Liz Kelly sure had the Irish gift of gab. Jane overheard some tales that she already knew, and heard them grow in the telling, improved by Liz's inventions.
"I'm not sure she's a nice girl," Mother said.
Jane said nothing. She hadn't expected Liz to fit Mother's tastes.
"At least she could wear a bra!" her mother hissed. "If she were built small it might be different, but the way those big breasts jiggle!"
"It's her night off, Mother." Besides, Dad was getting a kick out of ogling Liz's plump titties. She wore a thin green blouse that clung to them. In truth, Liz had arrived wearing a sweater but the cold wind outside had died away, leaving the house overheated, and she had taken it off.
"Disgraceful!" her mother said.
Thinking it over during dinner, Jane got mad. Liz wasn't the frosty little snob that Mother would like her to have as a friend. Thank God, she wasn't! Before they went out Jane got her dander up and went to her room and took off her bra, came back carrying her coat and letting everybody see her breasts wobbling and jarring about under a white blouse as sheer as Liz's.
Her mother's mouth hung open as the pair of them hustled out of the house and ran down the street to catch the bus that was just wheeling up to the curb.
Ma, the hell with you, Jane thought.
For years now she had been forbidden to call her mother Ma. It didn't sound elegant enough for an executive secretary. Oh, screw all that kind of pomposity!
When they were seated on the bus, Liz snuggled her hand into Jane's. She said, "Your dad is a real doll. But I think he needs your mother. Otherwise he'd grow a beard and lose his job, maybe. You think?"
"I think you Irish talk off the top of your heads."
"Is that a sore spot?"
Jane sighed. "I guess it is. You know, I'm like both of them. Sometimes I make Dad shape up the way Mother does. But she's hard. I don't want to be like that. It's a generation thing, I suppose. When she got her first job women were supposed to learn less than men, and she resented it and got toughened by it. She didn't have the chance we have."
"I wanted to kiss your dad good-bye."
"Good thing you didn't."
"Next time I will. I'll kiss anybody I want to, so there!"
Jane smiled and, for the first time, squeezed her friend's hand, and interlaced their fingers. She was used to the intimacy now and she guessed that she liked it. True, she had sworn to keep her distance from other people, to retain her independence. But, certainly, a girl posed no threat.
The movie that Liz had chosen was a violent spy story, full of shooting and also some humor; Liz lived it to the full, screeching when guns were suddenly fired, her fingernails cutting Jane's palm during moments of suspense, her breathing short when the love scenes warmed up, her laughter from the belly when there was a pratfull on the screen.
Jane thought that her girlfriend was a better show than the movie. She felt an impulse to hug her. She folded Liz's hand in both of hers and caressed it. Liz barely noticed. She was too busy firing guns, beating up bad men, and making love to a girl whose titties kept popping out of her dress-or else Liz imagined herself as the girl.
When the movies was over and they started out, Liz said, "Let's go to my place, it's only a block. We can have coffee. Or a drink? I'd take you someplace imagine, but I blew my paycheck."
Outside the weather had changed again, a wild wind blowing stinging ice chips of sleet through the night.
"We'll run for it," Liz cried, seizing Jane's hand and yanking her off down the street. Jane's hair blew over her face, half blinding her. She felt her titties jumping all about her chest, and remembered that she had taken off her bra to spite Mother. She laughed. The howling wind and the sleet particles tearing at her face and hands and legs were exhilarating. They were on a main avenue, running like a pair of teenagers instead of mature graduate nurses, professional people, but with Liz she felt like a kid again, and she loved it. She yanked up her skirt to run with her legs swinging from the hips.
Liz steered her around a corner. There, sheltered from the wind, in sudden deafening silence, they stopped running. But Jane was still laughing. She threw an arm around Liz and together they lurched down the street, hips bumping, staggering, drunk on excitement and laughter.
"You're all right, Hearne!" Liz cried.
"I love you too, Kelly." They had come to the steps of an old brownstone, climbed them a half story to a doorway. Liz whipped out her keys and let them" in. After the storm, the hall smelled musty, but it was warm and felt good. They climbed a stairway and Liz unlocked the first door they came to.
"It's a pigpen," Liz said. "I left in a hurry."
There was a certain disorder, a bra on the arm of an easy chair, a half full coffee cup on a lamp table, a lone nurse's shoe in the middle of the floor. Liz scooped these up and the place had a comfortable look; a pile of magazines and books on the coffee table to be read, not hidden away in shelves; brightly colored pillows, some prints on the walls, a sofa-bed, lamps homemade of jugs, and one good piece, a large, antique, beveled mirror. The room was large, with three windows. There was a bath and a tiny kitchen and that was all.
Liz threw her coat into an armchair and kicked her shoes off. She glanced at Jane and said, "Your hair got blown to a rat's nest. There's the bathroom. I have gin and sherry. Want 'em together on ice, or separate?"
"Go, easy on the ice, it dilutes," Jane said, feeling reckless. She threw her coat on top of Liz's and kicked off her shoes, took her handbag into the bathroom, which was tiny but clean. Her hair was damp from melting sleet. As she combed it out she saw the jiggling of her braless titties in the mirror. She giggled. Her breast crowns showed right through the sheer white blouse.
Liz came in with a tall drink in each hand. She gave Jane one, then flipped up the john seat, lifted her skirt and squatted on it to pee. No panties? Jane could see her dark pussy fluff. She asked, "Liz, don't you wear anything underneath?"
Liz sipped her drink as her pee hosed into the bowl. "I wear a bra when I have to. You like rock music? Not regular rock. Rockbucket."
"Try me."
Liz tore off some tissues, wiped her crotch, and left, flushing the john, all seemingly in one movement. She went off with her skirt hung up on one hip. Jane smiled. How she envied Liz her carefree ways, her style of living off her skin!
Music filled the apartment, a jumping, bass-drum beat, and when Jane left the bathroom, Liz was dancing to it, snapping her fingers and cranking her arms and wagging her behind, all of which made her titties flail crazily about. Jane laughed and joined her, and, yes, they were teenagers again, arms and legs pumping, hands pulling down empty air, fannies yanking about. Liz's eyes were sparkling, full of fun. They set their drinks on the record player and faced each other, grimacing and throwing their limbs here and there, riding the music higher and higher. When it calmed a bit, they snatched at their glasses, gulped, got rid of the drinks, and turned to the Rockbucket beat.
Then a new sound came in. A heavy beating on the wall beyond the bathroom. A man's voice yelled, "Goddamn noise, I got to sleep!"
"Oh, shit," Liz laughed. She flicked the switch on the record player. Silence. She finished her drink and said, "Let's make another." She wrapped an arm around Jane and took her to the kitchen.
Jane was bubbling inside. It was all so crazy! And now Liz's arm around her, drawing her close, cozy, warmly pressing her friend. She gulped down her drink although she knew that it was a strong mix. What the hell, she thought. Liz mixed by picking up a bottle in each hand and spilling some into each glass.
"You ought to play something quieter," Jane said.
"That guy next door is a pain in the ass, always complaining. The records are stacked. I forget what's on."
As they returned the next record dropped into place with a splat. They listened. Saxophones. Big band stuff, old. Stardust. Liz turned the sound down and parked her drink. "He can't object to this. Come on, let's dance."
"To this? Are you kidding?"
"Why not?"
Jane really could think of no reason why not, except that girls didn't ordinarily-but who cared what girls ordinarily did? Whose business? Liz's hands rose to her shoulders and she took the girl's waist and they began to sway, and it all seemed quite natural, swaying together, closer now to feel the music through each other, their breast points brushing. Jane thought, That drink was strong. Well, Liz is my friend and she wants to dance. And why not? She feels soft and pleasant, sways gracefully, and her eyes are sparkling. She wears no undies. Well, maybe I can learn from her. And I like holding her hand, and why shouldn't tee dance closer, together like? Why not?
Liz's cheek touched hers. Velvety. Jane found that her breathing was short. She felt an excitement, a little scary, a fear of the unknown. They had drifted together and the warmth of a moment's pause before the next piece began, Liz's breasts seeped into her own. They swayed and their bellies pressed together and Liz's arms circled her neck. Silent, feet unmoving, they swayed to the music. Stardust ended. There was a moment's pause before the next piece began, but they didn't separate.
She met Liz's gaze.
Liz whispered, "You could kiss me."
A pulse pounded in Jane's temple. Kiss a girl? Lesbian! The word beat in her head. Lesbian! Lesbian!
But it didn't seem to belong. Lesbian meant nasty tough-looking women with short hair and masculine swaggers. Not soft and curvy Liz with her sparkling wit. The word went away and left no stain, but Jane was thinking, do I want to kiss Liz? She's my friend, my charming buddy. I'm curious, yes, and she wants me to.
Thus, she kissed Liz, turning her head and letting her lips fall open as she touched Liz's, and felt a soft, sweet rolling, damp and tender, with a flicker of tongue tip in it. For a moment, an iron claw fisted in her belly. Fear! This was wrong, perverted. But the kiss clung and became like holding Liz's hand, a pleasant intimacy. She even met the other girl's tongue tip, and felt a delightful little shock. She forgot about the music. She tongued more deeply, and thrills began shooting down her body to her breasts, and prickling in her nipples. Liz strained against her. Their bodies seemed to seal together, and Jane drew on the other's waist, bringing her in more firmly.
When the kiss at last ended they breathed hotly against each other's cheeks. They were dancing again, moving only inches, one being, one heartbeat pounding in the single cushion of breasts they shared. It had been delicious! Jane wanted another kiss. She sought it, and found Liz's mouth yawning before hers. She suckered fast and tongued in, chasing a slippery tongue. Liz was impish now, teasing her, at last sucking her tongue in deep and licking about it with her own.
The music was distant. Jane was caressing Liz's back. Liz's hands had slipped down from her neck and were on her upper breasts. That was all right, too, even when a hand lowered and rose underneath, cupped, gently caressing her tit.
It seemed a moment, yet, forever, when the music at last stopped and they were left standing there.
Jane turned away. She went to a window and looked out at the storm. Sleet had begun peppering the windows again while they had been dancing and kissing. She touched the windowpanes. Icy cold. The chill revived her.
She said, "I have to start home, Liz."
"Not in this weather." Liz was behind her. Jane felt the warm cushions of Liz's breasts on her back. The girl's chin was on her shoulder, her arms now circling her waist. Jane's hand still touched the icy windowpane, a point of sanity. Liz whispered, "Phone your folks that you're staying over with me."
Her hands rose, caressing Jane's breasts. Her nipples were hot, stiffening as Liz brushed them with feathery fingers. It felt so good! And, she thought, there's no danger, that's the thing. With a girl you're always free, no marriage business to worry about.
"I'll loan you a nightie," Liz said.
Jane felt warmly sensual all over, a little lightheaded from the drinks, her nipples tingling, her belly kind of gently excited. Her body spoke, reinforced by the cold feel of the windowpane and the noise of the sleet crackling on it.
"All right," she said.
* * *
She undressed in the bathroom and put on a pale blue hip-length nightie with ribbons tying the bosom together. It was meant to be worn with nightie panties. Liz had given her none. She was wearing white ones that didn't at all go with this and Liz wouldn't wear any, so she stripped them off and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, at her sensually narrowed eyes, her puffed aureoles and rigid nipples, at her pussy hair showing darkly through the nightie.
She had phoned Dad and he had asked, "You girls meet some fellows?"
"No."
"What's the matter with young guys today? In my time a pair of cuties like you and Liz wouldn't have walked a block alone."
She had blown him a kiss through the phone and hung up smiling. Dear Dad!
Now she turned off the bathroom light and went, terribly conscious that only a gauzy blue nightie veiled her nudity, out to the living room-bedroom. Her body was still warmed by the remembrance of Liz's pressing it when they danced, and her lips seemed puffed from their kisses. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy, wobbling as she walked, hip-swaying. In her belly were electric tickles of fear that her sensuality didn't quite smother.
Liz had opened the sofa-bed and sheeted it. She was plumping pillows. Her nightie was a twin for Jane's. As Jane had expected, she wore no panties. Her dark pussy bush showed right through.
She said, "I'm glad you're not out in that storm."
Sleet no longer rattled against the window and the sound of the wind had faded, but Jane let the pretense that they were stormbound remain, as Liz turned out the lights except for a dull amber one, and they climbed into bed, dodging each other's gazes. The hour was late, time for sleep, and the tickling fear in Jane's belly told her to turn away from Liz and close her eyes. The tickle was fear of the unknown, and it was the nasty word lesbian. But curiosity prodded her onward.
She said, "Yes, it's good to be indoors, warm." The sound of her voice was husky, surprising her, and Liz's gaze flicked as she noticed it. Jane thought, I can't hide it. So she reached to Liz's shoulder and brought her close and pressed her mouth to the other girl's.
The kiss was a tentative meeting of trembling lips. Jane's breath caught. She was strangling, suddenly choked up by excitement. Liz made a mewling sound and slipped a soft hand about Jane's neck, holding her until the moment's panic had subsided. She was still short of breath, but the kiss eased and their mouths opened, and when Liz's tongue slid into hers, she licked it, twining her tongue about the slippery intruder. The kiss became hard then, yawning mouths locked, her hand gripping Liz's shoulder to fix her in place, to make solid the unstable rolling of their lips and lashing tongues, to steady the uneven choking of her breathing.
But she was too excited. She tore her mouth from Liz's and nuzzled into her throat, burying her face in the soft flesh. There were tears in her eyes. But this was easier, hiding from Liz.
Liz whispered, "You've never been with a girl before."
"No." She tried to suck back her tears. Then she asked a question that had been nagging her. "Liz, do you and your roommate...."
"Me and Ironpants?" Liz chuckled. "I call her that because she wears a girdle. God, no. She's a frigid bitch. I don't know what she and her boyfriend do together on weekends. Play cards, maybe. She keeps to her side of the bed and me to mine."
Jane felt Liz stroking her hair. It was soothing. Calmer now, she kissed the velvety skin of her throat. She wanted to make love to Liz, really wanted to, if she could quit this trembling and control her breath. She wrapped an arm around her and squirmed close. Their breasts met, warmth oozing through the thin nighties, and then their thighs.
Liz whispered, "Janey, I'm crazy about you. You know? It seems silly for girls to talk about love. But...."
Jane raised up and saw a mistiness in Liz's eyes. She gently kissed her chin, her lips, her cheek. She said, "I think I'm falling in love with you, too, Liz."
That answered a question, yes, it was why, and it eased her to have said it, let her kiss Liz openly, tonguing into her mouth and sucking her saliva. She was caressing her back and drawing her in close. Her hand was lower, finding the bottom of her nightie bunched at her waist. Below, the flare of Liz's buttocks was bare, and she now stroked that satiny flesh, loving the feel of it. Liz snuggled to her and pussy hair brushed her belly. She let Liz's thigh part her own and press into her crotch.
They lay like that, kissing tenderly, their bodies fusing into a single, voluptuous softness quivering on each heartbeat.
Jane was reduced to a mindless jelly. She made no protest when Liz's hand cupped her tit and a thumb aroused her nipple to erection, or when she pulled the ribbon holding the nightie front together, and exposed a swollen breast. The aureole was enormously puffed, projecting a thick, blood-engorged nipple that grew under Liz's feathery caresses. It was pulsing hotly, each touch sending waves of heat throughout her body.
Liz was kissing down her throat, and Jane knew where she was headed. She jerked with excitement when a downy cheek brushed the mound of her tit. Wet kisses seethed about the pink-capped hillock. The slippery passage of her tongue was an unbearable tease. Jane squirmed, thinking, Suck it, Liz. Please suck it! Kiss it, suck it!
Liz's tongue tip laid a scalding circle on her aureole, and Jane squirmed, groaning with passion. Then she shot a glance down and saw Liz's moist lips open and rise over the towering nipple, then close on the tip of it and draw the life right out of her, as though pulling a bubble up out of her cunt, through her tit, taking it away, a bubble that was on fire! Liz gazed at the saliva-glistening pink protrusion, up like a finger, taut and shiny, begging to be sucked. Then Liz moaned softly and her mouth yawned and covered the entire aureole, and slowly drew it into her mouth.
Jane felt a shivering jolt in her vagina, a sudden squirty suction, a spasm that started her on the long road to a cum.
Then Liz's palm was on her thigh, and she waited with bated breath as it stroked, first on top and then between, the sleek and sensitive inner surfaces, gradually rising toward her crotch. Shamelessly Jane spread her legs. Just a touch! Just one, and FU. cum.
Liz sucked more tit into her mouth. No longer was a circle of bright pink aureole visible about her mouth. It was all inside and her lips dented milky breast, and still she tugged, filling up on it.
"Liz!" Jane cried.
Then fingers brushed her hairy outer lips and her whole vulva quivered, and inside a drooling began, a hot running. Liz squeezed her lips, pulled them a little, kneaded them, holding them closed, and keeping the pooling juice within.
Liz's eyes were hooded, dark slits burning with passion as she munched and sucked, tugged and pressed inward, burying her nose in the soft whiteness.
Jane choked, "Darling, make me cum. My clit. I have to cum, I'm on fire, please?"
Liz raised, sucking off the grossly enlarged, livid nipple that stood like a shimmering tower on the swollen cone of aureole. She licked the tip of it. She whispered, "Do you want a big cum, the girl way?"
Jane understood. Liz meant, go down on her.
She choked, "Just make me cum, I have to, whatever way." But she knew what she wanted. Yes, she wanted Liz's tongue lashing her clit. She had never imagined this. She cried, "Darling, anything. Whatever you want."
Liz gave her nipple one last lick and then kissed down the round of her breast, underneath, down her white belly. Jane's eyes were big as she watched her lover's lips tour her abdomen, pause at her belly button to lick it. Liz's dark hair trailed like silk over her flesh, a fluffy caress like a series of incredibly dainty kisses following her lips. Her mouth now neared the broad fluff of pussy hair and Liz's nostrils flared as though drinking in the odor of it. Fingertips combed through the curly fur, squeezed the plumpness of her mound, then lowered and pushed her twat lips open.
Liz gave a groan and lunged downward.
Jane shrieked as the girl's soft lips mashed into her exposed slit. There was a sudden suckering, her clit feeling as big as a nipple when it was drawn into Liz's mouth.
"Oooooohhhhh," Jane panted, arching up, flinging her legs apart as she humped her cunt toward the incredible suction pulling her clit right out of the notch in which it was housed. Was Liz also sucking her inner lips? It felt like everything was being sucked out of her. A knot was forming in her vagina, and the convulsing walls shank together on the knot, melting it.
Her cum was blinding. She was on her back undulating with the waves of passion that racked her. She had torn open her nightie and was kneading both tits as Liz sucked her clit toward a frenzied explosion. She knew that she should do something for Liz, at least caress her, but this was like masturbation, cumming all alone, pulling out her nipples, digging fingers into her breasts, drawing them off.
The knots in her vagina parted and she heard the squirt of expelled fluids and air.
Then Liz's tongue shot up her fuck-hole, and the orgasm wrenched her to the eyeballs, pinking her out, shooting her to an oblivion of pulsing pink convulsions.
She was gone, knocked out of her mind.
But what could she do for Liz?
CHAPTER SIX
When Jane aroused from the voluptuous pink bliss of orgasm she was again in Liz's arms, their mouths together. Liz's tongue tip was in her mouth and she could smell her own cunt juice on her lover's face. Strangely, the musky odor didn't repel her. It was somehow exciting.
Then Liz whispered, "You passed out, honey."
"It was too much." Remembering her thought that she must do something for Liz, she reached between them and untied the bodice of her nightie, folded back the material, and pressed her hand to the girl's hot tit.
A rigid nipple bored at her palm. She shivered. Never had she touched a girl's breast. Gingerly she rubbed the stiff nipple with her palm, and fingered about it. like herself, Liz had oversize aureoles. They felt rubbery. The flesh about them had a downiness on which her fingertips slipped. She explored the bulging orbs of flesh underneath, cupped her hand, and pressed, shook, and felt the tit jiggle.
Her experiments made Liz sigh deeply and move in for another kiss, a deep one, tongue sliding full in. Heated by this, Jane brought both hands between them and seized both of Liz's titties, then felt the other do the same to her.
They lay kissing and playing with each other's tits until Jane knew from Liz's panting that she must do something more. Could she suck a breast? She had to, for Liz's sake, and now she curled down to it and took a big, firm, cone shape in both hands and licked the nipple, swabbed it with the flat of her tongue. On her elbows, the breast in cupped hands, she lipped the stiff peg while tonguing the flattish end of it. She raised off and saw that the nipple had grown and sharpened. She fingered the aureole, squeezed the white flesh about it, and felt an excited quirking deep in her belly. Yes, she liked that! She kissed the tip, then circled her tongue about it, swabbing the aureole, and heard Liz groan with pleasure. Nibbling and licking, she ate her way down the turgid stem, suckered onto the aureole and, with sudden hunger, gobbled her mouth full of meaty breast.
Liz grasped the back of her neck and forced her face into it while gasping hotly and squirming on the bed.
Sucking rhythmically on her mouthful, Jane eyed the other breast. She reached to it, watched her fingers tease the nipple, curling about it, tugging it. The sight was lovely, the white hillock crowned with red, tipped with the stiff spike bending before the touch of her finger. Here she was sucking a girl's breast and fingering the other, knowing from Liz's panting that it was making her hot, and feeling no shame. Instead, she delighted in the cushiony feel of the tit in her mouth and the one under her hand, in the pound of blood inside, in the nipples as stiffly erect as little pricks.
She turned her gaze down Liz's body and saw her belly suck in, quivering, then her legs spreading from her twat fur, muscles ridging in her thighs, straining. Quite naturally, she slid a hand down the smooth belly and combed her fingers into the bushy, dark mound. It seemed no different from masturbating, even when her fingertips went over the hump of Liz's mound and down her damp outer lips and pressed to open them, then nudged the slippery bud of her clit.
"Aaaaaahhhhh!" Liz gasped. "Darling, I just love it."
Jane raised off her breast point to draw a deep breath and murmur, "Me, too, Liz, I love all of it." She gazed down the girl's white belly at the finger slowly, delicately, stroking her clit. She whispered, "Liz, do you want me-down there."
"Oh, God, do I! But, honey, do you want to."
"I don't know. I'm curious. I mean, I should try, and see...."
"You'll like it, Janey."
Wondering, Jane raised Liz's breast to her mouth and nibbled the tip while gazing down at her finger toying with the girl's cunt, stroking her clit, and voyaging down the folds of sleekly oiled inner flesh toward her hole. She sort of gravitated toward it, nuzzling down Liz's body, rubbing her cheek on the exquisitely smooth flesh, bending down until her pussy bush loomed, filling her vision, and she got her first whiff of hot cunt, a tingling in her nostrils. She raised and hung over it, looking down at the hairy twat lips spread open about her coral gash, at the little pink clit protruding in its protective notch. She sniffed, felt her nostrils wrinkle at the strong scent.
She climbed over Liz's thigh and faced her, between her spread legs. She placed her hands under Liz's thighs and raised them, pushing them back, opening her cunt to a gaping, hair-edged wound to which Jane bent. Suddenly she knew the power of cunt musk. The odor writhed into her nose and made her blood pound excitedly, more so as she went down to it and saw the juice glistening on her lip hair, and the tiny rivulet of it escaping her fuck-hole and tracing a silvery line down toward the pucker of her anus.
She bent closer between the white marble columns of Liz's raised thighs into thehair-edged valley. The cunt odor made her pant as she extended her tongue and wagged it at the little clit. Suddenly bold, she licked it.
The effect was convulsive. Liz's hips jerked, mashing her gaping twat into Jane's face. Her feet came over Jane's shoulders, and heels braced in her back as Liz heaved up, hips jerking.
Jane had no choice but to eat it, to lick, to munch the hairy lips. And, within seconds she was on fire, willingly licking up the girl's fuck-hole, rimming it with her tongue, lapping it, and sucking out the juices. She swabbed the whole gash with the flat of her tongue, nibbled the clit, returned to the vaginal mouth where she inserted her tongue while trying to enclose the entire vulva in her mouth.
Her head was spinning, her pulse pounding as though to burst her. She was just as excited as Liz when the girl began fucking her face and crying, "Janey, I'm cumming, honey. Oh, lick my cunt. Please, darling, lick it, lick it, suck it!"
Jane found that her own hips were in motion, grinding, and she felt pussy juice dripping down her legs. As Liz came she flung a hand back to her own cunt and stuck two fingers up her hole and thumbed her clit.
She groaned into Liz's gash as she finger-fucked herself to orgasm, drank cunt juice, sucking loudly, piggishly, as her own vagina burst and scalding fluids ran down her legs.
She bit on Liz's hairy outer lips as they both surged through their cums.
* * *
It was morning.
Jane awoke with her head on Liz's breast. The girl's arm was curled about her. Jane's nose touched a shrunken nipple. She squirmed to it, wetted her lips, and mouthed the rubbery little protrusion.
Gently sucking it she gazed down Liz's body at her flat belly, at the matted dark pussy hair between her spraddled legs. Cautiously, to not wake her, she reached to it and fingered lip hair stiff with dried cunt juice. Exploring, she found that within the lips it was all open and slippery.
She wondered how her own twat felt after all that loving last night. She moved her hand to her legs, spread them, and fingered her lips, the hair as matted as Liz's, and between as soft and wetly slick as she had ever felt it.
Lazily sucking Liz's tit, at the same time fingering her own twat, she thought, I feel so good. This can't be wrong. Maybe I'd worry about the lesbian side if I didn't enjoy being fucked by a man. After all, a girl who at eighteen got a full orgasm the moment a cock had for the first time filled her cunt, well, she is normally sexed. Could this make me double-normal? She smiled. Well, this was fully satisfying. She didn't need a man, thank God. She could avoid that bruising of her pride, male domination, the final indignity of marrying some guy and losing her identity, having Jane Hearne, R.N., smothered beneath the title of Mrs. John Smith. But Liz could take nothing from her.
As she mused, Liz came awake and her hand moved to her breast and forced more into Jane's mouth. She drew it in while curling her tongue about the now erect nipple.
Liz whispered, "What a nice way to wake me up!"
Jane raised off the tit and kissed Liz's mouth, licking her lips open, then playfully nibbling her nose. "I found that our pussies are all mucky. Want to bathe and then make love?"
"Good idea." They climbed out of bed and went naked, arms about each other, to the bathroom. They got into the stall shower and Liz turned faucets to produce a tepid spray. Under it they hugged, and Jane marveled at the delightful squishiness of the big breast cushion between them. Then she became aware of the usual early morning pressure in her bladder.
"Damn," she said, "I forgot to pee. Now I'm all wet."
Liz laughed. "Why, piss right here. It all goes down the same drain. Can't you pee standing up?"
"Silly!" Jane was giggling. "I never thought of it."
"Come on, we'll piss together." Liz backed from her, bowed her legs and reached a hand down to press her pussy lips, opening them to expose her peehole. In a moment a jet of yellow urine burst out, arching out and spattering in the tile floor.
Jane was laughing too hard to do it at first. But finally, legs apart, hips shot forward, she hosed out a stream double Liz's, shooting between her legs to splash on the wall. Then Liz broke up. And Jane realized that teenage girls might do this sort of thing. It was childish. Maybe the whole lesbian thing was a reversion, a slipping backward in time to when they hadn't the responsibility of coping with mature men. Maybe so. But she was swinging between giggles and laughter. It was fun! She felt so good she switched her torso, making her tits leap about. Liz mimicked her. They moved close, tits swinging like bells, slapping each other wetly in passing.
Then they got busy with washcloths and soap, scrubbing themselves and each other until Jane lost track of whose washcloth was swabbing her cunt and which breast she happened to be fondling.
Weak from laughter, they staggered out of the shower, toweled each other, and hurried back to bed.
Liz said, "Let's get a quick cum and then have breakfast."
That meant go down right away. When Liz was on the bed Jane climbed to her in reversed position, head between her lover's legs, her hand grasping Liz's neck and drawing her face in between her own spraddled thighs.
Her head on satiny thigh flesh, gazing at black pussy hair still damp from the shower, she fingered the lips open, revealing her coral gash and ovaled hole. There was little odor now but she meant to produce some. She squirmed in and, as she licked the length of the girl's split, she felt Liz's tongue slide into her fuck-hole and voluptuously tour the rim.
She felt it all the way to her ovaries. Moaning, she returned the favor, squeezing her lips into Liz's hole, breathing hotly, then voluptuously curling her tongue about, savoring the juices that had already begun to flow. She armed Liz's buttocks and squirmed closer, flattening her breasts on the other's belly, digging her fingers into a buttock, and holding fast as she quivered and shook all over, and she couldn't suppress her moans of ecstasy. Through lust-hazed eyes, she saw the thin dark hair leading from Liz's cunt up to her ass crack, a swirl of it around the star pucker of her anus. She had neglected this. She dipped an index finger into the slipperiness of her gash, wetting it all around, then pressed it at the spongy ass-hole. She heard Liz cry out, and the pucker seemed to dilate before her touch and suck her fingertip right in.
Jane finger-fucked it as she ate cunt, wallowing in it, rubbing her whole face in the widespread gash, nibbling every hair, munching the lips, sucking the blossoming clit into her mouth, wagging her head, pulling it to a bursting little prick.
Liz cried, "I'm cumming!"
Then she stuck her finger into Jane's ass-hole, and she shrieked and it started to go, their bodies whipping together, tongues spiraling in and out of the depths of the other's belly, clit-sucking, gash-lapping, panting each in the other's gaping organs until Jane gave a last violent moan and collapsed, her vagina gushing like a fountain.
She lay slowly drifting downhill from the red peak of orgasm, still enjoying it as she lapped up the juices that had escaped her sweetheart's cunt.
* * *
On Monday morning the appendix, Hank Carson, anxiously awaited the return of his two favorite nurses.
Jane Hearne came sweeping into his room, titties jiggling, looking impossibly beautiful; her red hair glowed and her color was high and her grin huge, dimpled, terribly pleased to see him.
She stuck a thermometer into his mouth.
"Umph," he said. Gosh, the way her tits stuck out! And the big hams of her ass, rolling as she moved briskly about, tidying his bedding and pillow. She never stopped smiling. Her boyfriend must have rooted her good over the weekend, he thought. She looked like a woman who had been screwed about nineteen times with a rigid cock.
He was learning to talk around a thermometer.
"How's your love life?" he asked.
"Just grand." She smiled all the wider.
"Just gland? I bet you have grand glands."
"I bet lots of girls slap your face, Hank." She leaned over him adjusting the covers. Shit, he could see down her dress front, cleavage that looked a hand deep, milky tits! His groin throbbed and pulled at his incision. He winced but kept on looking at her breasts.
She was pulling the thermometer from his mouth and he had just glimpsed a pink arc of aureole in her gaping bra when Dr. Blake entered, stethoscope pronged into his ears, the bouncy little Kelly trailing him.
Kelly did his pulse and Blake stethoscoped and Jane Hearne shook out the thermometer, saying, "Ninety-two is a little cold isn't it, Doctor?"
Kelly giggled. "There's no blood left for his mouth, that's why."
"I think he's dead," Blake said. "Above the waist, anyhow."
Hank had to fight against the laughter that tore so painfully at his incision. He choked, "Doc, you aren't going to examine my groin with women watching, are you?"
Blake said sternly, "Young man, it is all for medical science. I know that you're shy, but you'll have to bear with it. These nurses must observe in order to learn."
"I'm afraid my incision has a shadow over it."
"Then they must take a careful look. I am sure neither of them has ever observed a male in such a condition."
The girls were giggling, Hank biting his lip to keep from laughing and rupturing the incision, and Blake looked amused. Everybody was in a high mood on Monday morning, it seemed. Hank wondered if Blake screwed the two nurses, one or both. Hank himself sure would.
They brought the screen and Blake tossed back the sheet and opened his gown. Sure enough, his cock was at half mast. Blake was grinning.
He said, "Hank, I'm afraid we may have to amputate."
"All of it, Doc?"
"Maybe just the first ten or fifteen inches," Blake said.
Beyond the screen, the girls chortled with laughter.
* * *
When Jonas had finished his rounds, Jane and Liz brought the charts into his office for tabulation. To Jane he seemed preoccupied. He gazed absently at them, took the charts, and shoved them across the desk.
He said, "I'd tell you to sit down, but where? A desk, a chair, a bed, three people-this cubbyhole is stuffed full. The good side is it brings me closer to a pair of luscious broads."
Liz giggled and made a mock curtsy. "Thank you for the compliment, sir," she said.
"And over the door is the squawk box, about to yell for us to grab our scalpels and rush to the O.R. It's inhuman."
Jane didn't know what he was driving at. She said, "The pay is decent enough."
He snorted. "You want double pay? I know where to get it. Listen, you two want to do me a favor? Advise me? You're bright girls. See for yourselves and give me your opinions. I'll show you how the other half lives. Oh, it'll be no surprise to you. You know the professional ropes, you know that hospital work is for those who can't do better, or else those who are perverse, thinking their job is to serve suffering humanity. But I'll show you. Tomorrow night. Do you like champagne, caviar, smoked salmon?"
They nodded eagerly.
He said, "Doctor Wilson is formally opening the new wing of his clinic, inviting medical big shots and politicos and God knows who else. You'll be more than welcome because pretty girls are always in short supply. I want you to look it all over and tell me what you think."
Jane said, "Tomorrow is my embryology class. I can't make it."
"Hell, this is more important. I insist. Now, buzz off while I study these charts."
As they went down the corridor toward the nurses' lounge, Liz filled Jane in. "It's his wife, she wants him to join this Doctor Wilson. But I think he figures his job is surgery, not bleeding money out of rich patients."
Jane had figured that. Her thoughts were elsewhere-on Liz and what they had done together. They found the lounge empty. Jane drew her lover into the concealment of the locker room and slipped an arm about her, saying, "Give me a kiss to start the day right."
Liz's hands slid up to her shoulders, vined about her neck. Her tongue slipped out, teasing. Jane touched it with her tongue tip and felt the delicious thrill of the slippery contact, reveled in it for a moment before enclosing Liz's lips in hers and delving into the opening orifice. Their breasts met and formed a warm, throbbing cushion between them.
Within moments she felt a vaginal warmth, a moving dampness inside her. But just as important as the sexual excitement was the reassurance of having someone, of their belonging to each other. She had certain rights, and now she slid a hand down Liz's hip and fingered up her skirt, felt over stocking top and garter to her pussy. She stroked the silky hair on her mound, as always, pleased that Liz wasn't wearing panties, her cunt always exposed to a loving caress.
Liz whispered in her mouth, "Sweetie, that's too much on a working day."
Jane agreed. But she squeezed the hairy lips of Liz's vulva before ending their embrace.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Liz was singing to herself as she supervised four practical nurses who were bed-bathing patients.
She felt pleasantly warm and open in her crotch. Darling Janey! Maybe they could have dinner in a restaurant tonight, then go to her apartment. But, no, Ironpants would be there.
Besides, this was Jane's night for gymnastics. She was so goddamn busy! Weekends weren't enough.
The job done, Liz caught sight of Jonas Blake heading for his office. She made no conscious decision, simply drifted in his wake, eventually aware that her walk had slowed, her hips were swaying, that she was primping her hair and smoothing her dress.
She followed him in. After a glance at the corridor to make sure no one had seen her enter, she closed the door behind her and leaned back against it.
Jonas had sat down at his desk. "I was just thinking of you. Did you read my mind?"
"I just realized it's the lazy hour, eleven o'clock."
"Two great minds with the same thought."
"Yes, and about Wilson's party tomorrow night, we both have our minds made up in advance. I don't know about Jane but I feel that they need me here. Who else could they get? We already use too many practical nurses who don't know their ass from a hole in the ground."
He nodded. "Liz, you know something, I've never before tomcatted around on the job. Why now?"
She smiled. "Who could resist me?" She reached behind herself and turned the catch on the door, locking it.
He got up and came to her, his hands cupping on her breasts before he kissed her. And, as her mouth opened under the insistence of his tongue, she reached between them and clutched his hardening prick. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts dwell on it as it grew under her gentle kneading. The long, rubbery shank became a stiff protrusion. Before it was fully hard she unzipped him and sighed with pleasure as the hot, fat head of it wormed out into her hand.
He whispered, "We better make it a quickie. Or people will get suspicious."
"Yes. Let's start it the fast way."
They turned to the bed. Liz had him lie on his back and she knelt over the towering cock rising out of the gap in his white pants. She unfastened the waist and pulled them down enough to reveal his scrotum. She scooped up his nuts in one hand and fisted the rigid cockshank with the other, and bent down toward the engorged, red flaring head.
She licked her lips. She was eager to suck it. Poor Janey, you wouldn't understand. I mean, this isn't cheating on you. This is a man. I won't touch other girls, if you don't want me to. This is a different world. You don't compete here. Honey, it's no skin off your precious ass if I blow Jonas.
Still, she felt a little guilty.
She gazed at the plushy, puffed head capping his bony prick, at the yawning pink slit from which the goodies spurted. There was a drop of clear fluid emerging. She fingered it, spread it around the ridge of the head, then lowered and pressed her tongue tip into the little gash and slowly, voluptuously, licked it.
Jonas groaned. "Baby, you do that once more, I'll shoot all over your face."
She smiled. "Silly, you're not that sharp. I can tell." She swabbed the darkening head with her tongue, licked the rim, and, when it was all glistening with saliva, she opened her mouth and lipped the small tip of it, then forced downward, mouth opening, the split on her tongue, lips moving as she suckered onto it. Her jaw opened wide and her teeth nicked the rim in passing to the smaller shank.
There she paused, sighing deeply, then slowly licking and sucking her mouthful of cock.
He was squirming about. His hips got into it, jerkily stabbing his prick upward, the head jogging in her mouth. And, Liz thought, fuck me, honey. It will get you off sooner, has to be a quickie. Oh, gosh, but I could suck this delicious fucktool all day long, but we have to hurry!
She gazed down the rigid stem protruding from her red lips, at the swollen blue vein on the top of it, at his black ruff of pubic hair, at the big testicles she was squeezing in her hand. Yes, Jonas was all man and she loved him, and wished that she could blow him every day or have him shove this iron prick up her vagina. At moments like this she thought of permanency, even marriage, but she knew herself, too. She was always falling in love. If Jonas knew that she and Janey lapped each other's cunts that would end this, and maybe Janey would freeze up if she could see Liz sucking Jonas's horny cock. And if either saw her make a pass at somebody else, man or woman, they might turn off.
For all of that, Liz knew that she would make Jonas a better wife than that blonde bitch of a Madge.
The head was in her throat. She drew off, slurping nosily. The head escaped her mouth, stood twitching against her extended tongue. She licked around it, playfully rubbed the tip. Then a thought struck her.
Sh" asked, "Jonas, does your wife like giving head?"
His hard breathing slowed. His hand came into her constricted vision and he stroked her cheek. Finally, he said, "No."
"Does she do it?"
"Only when she wants a new fur coat."
Liz heard the bitterness in his voice. She opened her mouth and gobbled in the spongy head, thinking, Any woman who wouldn't love sucking this isn't a woman, that's all. She's got no ovaries. Liz could feel the cock in her mouth traveling in waves throughout her body, like it was as big as a barber pole and she just a bit of flesh built around it. Her cunt was wide open and drooling down her legs. Her tit points burned. It was a tease, of course. She needed her belly full of this rampant penis. But it was a delicious tease, and, besides, was the quickest way to start him toward orgasm.
He was fucking her mouth again. She watched the shaft slip in and out of her ovaled lips. At last she forced down, the head choking off her throat, and sucked hard.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhh!" he cried.
Quickly she pulled off. She had to have it up her hole. She kissed the slippery head, licked it once more, then hitched up her skirt and crawled astride him. When her knees bracketed his ribs, the darkness of her crotch was poised over the throbbing tower of his manhood.
She tucked her skirt into her garter belt to hold it up, then dropped, hands on the bed, not needing to guide his erection as she aimed her gaping hole at the flared red knob.
She capped it. It lodged in the mouth of her vagina. Her dark curls of lip hair hid it. She lowered and the magnificent fucktool curved up her vagina. She pushed down, feeling it open her. She was panting now as her split came down to his pubic ruff and squashed open on it.
Moaning, she fell on his chest, nuzzled his throat. For a moment she was motionless. She whispered, "Jonas, it feels as big as my arm."
He chuckled. His hands tossed her skirt up off her ass and his fingers dug in.
He said, "Quickie, remember? Can you get a cum right away?"
"You just try me."
He levered upward, driving it in deeper. Liz gasped. Her belly knotted up on the towering piece, pulled in hard, and sucked at it. Within seconds she was off, jerking her ass, hammering it, and giving an inner pull on each slam. Jonas replied with equal rapidity, chopping it in and out, meeting her humps so hard that she thought he would poke right through her.
Liz raised up and looked down between their bodies to her rising belly, on the upswing lifting her off the inflamed wet manhood, her wet-haired lips clinging to it, glued to it, and yet moving as slickly as though oiled. As it descended, her vulva yawned and she saw the coral lips, and then just their joined mat of hair as she whacked down and squirmed her clit on him. Her little split knob was crushed and fire coursed up her body to her eyeballs, and she cried out.
"Jonas, I'm cumming!"
"Then take my load, baby! I'm shooting up your hole!"
He arched up, hips jerking, and she felt the hot fountain spatter semen all over her belly cavern. It convulsed on the spewing penis, sucking the milks right out of his testicles.
She shrieked as her cum peaked and lava burst inside her, and her hole drank up his every dribble of cock cream. The pressure was such that she lifted, trying to escape it, but his hands dug into her buttocks and held her there, exploding her juices and his all over his ruff and scrotum.
He had shot his load, but they were still moving, milking out the last sensations of their joint cum.
Jane had noticed that Jonas' door was closed. Sometimes he took a brief nap after a particularly long operation, Liz had told her.
The diet wagons were rolling and today it was Jane's turn to check each dish against the list. She was busy but working in the corridor, stopping each wagon as it entered the wing, and she could see Jonas' door.
Finally it opened and Liz emerged, and hurried away toward the nurses' lounge.
Jane was thunderstruck.
Liz!
Her face had been flushed, her hair tousled, and her dress not quite straight.
Jane saw the diet lists through a veil of tears. Maybe some pork chops got through to ulcer patients. She didn't know.
Liz had betrayed her.
* * *
That afternoon she dodged Liz. Rather than face her in the lounge at the end of the day, she got her coat from her locker and went home wearing her uniform.
In the privacy of her room she let the tears roll down her cheeks.
But self-pity didn't seem enough. She stripped off her dress and undies except for her garter belt and stockings, and, in the bathroom, got out her vaginal vibrator and her mirror. She locked her door and squatted on the toilet, gazing down at the mirror propped against the bathtub. Leaning over she saw her tear-stained cheeks, her big white breasts hung out, the pink caps swollen and the nipples extended by a form of lust strange to her, jealousy, rage, and yet she wished that Liz were there to suck those big aureole cones and the thick mammary pegs tipping them. Forgive her? She brushed a thumb across the sensitive bulges, saw the pink skin become shiny with tautness. No, she couldn't forgive Liz the betrayal. She would retire to masturbation. She could make herself cum without help from anybody. She tweaked her nips, felt the heat in them, exciting although combined with rage. Maybe anger would stop her from thrusting over the hump of orgasm.
That thought was frightening.
She dropped her hands to her winged-out thighs, caressed them from belly outward on the satiny flesh, then the white nylon stocking, coarse on the bands to which the snaps attached, more sleek down to her knees. Slowly she stroked, back and forth from knees to groin. She relived the ecstatic hours locked in Liz's embrace, their mouths together, breasts pulsing on a single heartbeat, a semi-liquid pool of fusing warmth between them, prickled by their nipples. Or reversed, each nuzzling the other's crotches.
The thought made her squirm with passion, and, yet, for the first time it appeared obscene, perverted, dirty!
She caressed the undersides of her thighs, back to her naked buttocks. She leaned back against the toilet tank and raised her knees high, and watched down her body between her thighs the mirror showing her pale-gold fingers stroking the marble rounds of her ass cheeks, and the wispy hair down in the cleft, the little star of her ass-hole, then the split furriness of her tangled auburn twat hair. Her lips had parted slightly and a thin coral line was visible, widening as her fingertips circled her anus, then drew warm lines on her inner thighs, nearing the fluff of pussy hair.
Moisture glistened in her split. She licked her lips. Oh, dammit, maybe it was perverted, but she liked looking at her cunt in the mirror, and she had loved going down on Liz's, nostrils flaring with excitement at the smell of hot vagina, tongue quivering as she tasted the delicious seepage. Dammit, dammit!
And, yet, while thinking of lapping Liz, she reached down to the floor and picked up the vibrator. What she was going to slide up her hole was a male-shape, an imitation phallus, not a replica of a woman's tongue. She did like men. She did like being fucked. What she couldn't endure were betrayals.
She placed the white plastic tube underneath, pressed the tip into her anus, and thumbed the switch. The tip vibrated with sudden violence, making the opening quiver and abruptly go loose and let an inch of the plastic sink in.
She cut the switch, moved the plastic tip to the long curve of her split and slowly traced the length of it, up to her clit and the notch in which it huddled.
Suppose she went to the party the following night, and seduced some man, and let Liz know it?
That would show her!
She turned on the gadget. Quickly it shook her cunt open. Her clit emerged from hiding and stood glistening, a fiery little nub. She probed each inner lip to standing out like the coral leaf of a tropical flower. Her hole was ovaled now, gaping wetly, and she gave it what it wanted, slid the quivering vibrator up it, an inch, two inches.
She was panting now as her whole belly began to move, writhing inside and wringing itself of seeping juices until the vibrator seemed to float up into her.
She'd show Liz! The next night she would get herself fucked, that's what she'd do! Jonas? No matter who. Or would it make Liz more jealous if she seduced a woman? She knew that she could do it now. Oh, she wouldn't enjoy it as she had with Liz because she had been simply bursting with love. But she could do it.
Still, her thoughts were on men, maybe because of the gadget up her hole, and the way her vagina was sucking at it. Yes, her inner cavity wanted cock. Well, get it a stiff penis at the party. Show Liz!
She grunted, and yanked her vaginal sphincter in on the shaking gadget. A flash of heat filled her belly. Starting to cum. She grabbed a tit and kneaded it, drew them together and fingered both nipples, tugged at them while moving the plastic gadget in and out of her belly hole. In the mirror she saw the whole thing disappear inside, a fingertip holding it there, lip hair closing over it.
It was shaking her to jelly.
She would wear that white dress with the scooped-out bosom, the silky one that clung to her body. She would get a man, all right. Bet your sweet ass, Liz, I'm going to make it with a guy and you'll be sorry!
She was on fire. Her vision was turning pink. She could still see her raised and spread legs in the white nurse's stockings and the pinkishness of her exposed thighs, and her tangled twat hair dark with dampness, and her rosy wet clit peeping out, and the long coral gash between it, and the slobbered vibrator dipping in and out of her pulsing crotch hole. Slowly the pink and coral flooded the mirror and she was on top of the rosy peak, her insides racing.
She burst over the top, crying out in ecstasy.
It was a sizzling cum. It made her laugh, and it hurt because she was already wounded by Liz, but it was release, a piggish noise issuing from her fuck-hole and a rivulet of pussy juice winding down to her anus.
At the party! The white dress. A big, hard, lively cock reaming this hungry vagina! She could hardly wait.
CHAPTER EIGHT
That day she was frostily polite to Liz. Toward noon in the corridor, Liz caught her arm and said, "Honey, I want to explain."
Jane had meant to be cool and say that she understood, no ties bound them, each was free to play around.
But she lost her temper and said, "I know why you don't wear panties, so anybody can get at your cunt!"
She hurried away, instantly furious with herself for showing her jealousy.
But by evening she had recovered her poise. Jonas said that he would drive them to the party. Jane finished work and went to the locker room and undressed. Liz was already there, glancing sidewise at her, cheeks red with shame. And remorse? Naked, Jane moved about arranging things in her locker, letting Liz see the wobble of her tits, the teasing sway of her ass.
In the shower she scrubbed herself and then dawdled, enjoying the tepid spray sluicing her body. Liz came in and blurted, "Jane, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd take it so hard."
"Hard? I haven't had anything hard in a long time. Maybe tonight I will. Jonas, maybe. Is his good and hard, Liz?"
Liz bit her lip and turned away to another shower.
Jane dried off and, facing her locker summoned up the nerve to put on the bra that she had chosen, a stretch thing without hooks, the kind of frail garment that young girls with small tits wore. She would wobble all over the place. But wasn't she out to seduce a man? She put it on. She shook her torso, and saw her breasts jump about. She giggled.
She slipped into the dress without panties, because the material clung and would show seams. She studied it in the mirror to see if her pussy hair showed through. Not much. A shadow, maybe.
She stepped into blue sandals, put on a small necklace of blue beads that matched her eyes, brushed out her hair and called it good enough.
She was ready to prowl.
* * *
In Jonas' car, she sat at the door, Liz between. Jonas took a pint bottle of whiskey from the glove compartment, saying, "The people at the party will be pretty awful. Let's have a drink so we can endure them."
They passed the bottle. It was raw stuff, burning Jane's throat, but she gulped at it. She needed to strengthen her resolve, for Liz, sitting between her two lovers, looked too ravishingly beautiful, her complexion glowing, her lips as delicate as rose petals, her eyes luminous. Jane wanted to clutch her hand and beg forgiveness, but the whiskey helped.
She choked on it, and sat stiffly looking out the window as Jonas wheeled out to the lakes, the new-rich part of the city where he lived and the clinic was located. The houses were big, on handsomely landscaped, large lots. Out here was where Jonas had said she could double her earnings. She would look into that, too.
The clinic was a low, L-shaped building. The cars parked before it were big, and Jane saw people in evening dress going from them to the entrance. Well, she wouldn't be over-dressed anyhow. The men were mostly in black tie. Jonas wore a sports jacket and slacks.
The three of them entered the lobby, where uniformed caterers took their coats. Jane saw women flashing diamonds, and minks being carried away. Then Jonas' wife appeared.
Jane caught her breath. The woman was exquisite, gold and rose, pencil-slim in a green satin dress, long legs, green opera pumps Jane knew had cost a hundred dollars. Emeralds at her throat and in her eyes.
"Jonas," Madge cried, "you've brought girls! How this party needs fresh young things. But, darling, that awful sports jacket and slacks, really."
He said, "I've been cutting out people's guts all afternoon. I don't have Wilson's spare time to spend at the tailor's." His voice was gruff. Madge kissed his cheek, then turned, extending a hand to each of the girls.
She gushed, "How pretty you are. I love you both."
"Liz and Jane," Jonas said, introducing them. He herded the three of them to another room where champagne corks were popping and Dr. Wilson, in a maroon formal jacket and blue velvet pants, came bursting with good humor. Jane knew his face. He was sometimes in the hospital fussing over rich women patients.
A waiter brought champagne, and after toasts to the success of the new clinic, Jane studied the group, saw flashes of understanding between Madge and Wilson; apparently it was true that they had a romance going. And she caught the sharpness of Madge's gaze when she looked at Liz, and at herself. Madge had a wife's wary eye for whatever women worked with her husband. There was something else in her gaze that Jane couldn't at first fathom. She looked them over in an unfeminine way, not studying the details of their clothes, jewelry, and makeup, but their bodies.
Could Madge Blake have a lesbian side?
Jane wondered about that.
She found herself talking to a Dr. Smith from City General, an eager young man who was going in with Wilson on the clinic.
He said, "I hope your Blake joins us. He's getting quite a name as a surgeon. He'd be a fool not to. You should see my office. The rug is ankle deep."
She told him, "Jonas is pretty busy right now."
"Well, who isn't at City? Work you to death. Oh, he'll see the light."
Others joined them. The talk was the same. Get into big money with Wilson. She reflected that when she had been with doctors before, they spent half their time talking about medical problems. Here there was only money. Somehow they didn't speak her language.
She said little but was aware that she drew attention, men leering at her breasts, and her crotch. She guessed that her pubic hair showed through. But nobody made passes. They all seemed to be with their wives. She saw many a curled feminine lip and hateful glance. Flattering.
A soft hand brushed her arm. Madge Blake. Smiling, she said, "Jane, I'd love to talk with you. Come, I'll show you the new offices." Jane followed her out of the main room to an office with three big windows, a rosewood desk, rugs her feet sank into. Off it, through a door marked NURSE, was a place bigger than Jonas had at City.
"It's very plushy," she said.
Madge smiled. "Do you like Jonas?"
Jane gazed levelly at her. "Yes. I've only been at City a few days. But I like him."
"I've been wondering. You're so pretty. I know he's involved with one of the nurses, the way he's been acting."
"It's not me."
"The girl who came with you? Liz?"
"I have no idea." No matter that she was furious at Liz. This woman was an outsider.
Madge changed the subject to clothes, to Jane's dress, which she thought adorable. Her fingers kept touching Jane's arm, and her gaze washed up and down her body. Again she wondered about the lesbian angle, and if Madge was aware that she gave the impression.
Then Jonas appeared in the doorway with a tray of drinks. In his rumpled jacket, his tie askew, he was out of place in these elegant surroundings.
Madge said, "The way you look!" She took drinks from the tray and gave Jane one. She scanned her husband's clothes, scowling. Then, abruptly, she turned and strode out and back to the party.
Jonas leaned against the doorjamb, sipping a drink, still holding the tray of glasses.
He asked, "Did she try to pump you for information? "
Jane nodded. "She asked if I'm your girlfriend."
He was gazing at her crotch. A light was shining on her. She guessed he could see the darkness of her pussy hair. She didn't mind. Liz's betrayal had made her indifferent.
He drained his glass, set it on the tray, and took a fresh one. He said, "All this is very nice, isn't it?"
"It's different. All these rugs, it would be too quiet, maybe. Something feels wrong."
"Ah, you're being loyal to me. You know how I feel about it. Don't con me, Jane."
She lifted her chin. "I started training six years ago, in a hospital. I've been in one ever since. It's what I'm used to."
He gulped down the drink. "Let's get drunk together, you and me. And go out and insult these puffed-up ass-holes. Crooks. Bandits. What say?"
"Let me finish my drink and think about it."
"Don't think, drink."
She drank. The whiskey glowed in her veins. She set the glass on his tray and took another drink. And Liz, seeing them together, what better man could she grab than the one Liz was hot for? She took Jonas' arm and they went out to the buffet where they stood looking down at smoked pink salmon and deviled eggs studded with globules of red caviar, sliced turkey breast and shrimp on toothpicks. She tried this and that. They stood companionably together plucking at the hors d'oeuvres and drinking whiskey, and soon a bond formed between them, a oneness barring out the rest of the party. She knew that Madge would stop them and probably would intervene, and that would be the test of Jonas. Well, she would see. She nibbled on a shrimp, and glanced up at Jonas and smiled.
His dark gaze was fixed on her, watching. There was a twinkle in it. He asked, "Don't you wear panties, Jane?"
"Not tonight."
"I like that darkness showing through your dress. It's kind of honest. Why not tonight?"
She frowned. Because of Liz. Oh, the hell with Liz. She finished her drink and took another from Jonas' tray. The crowd about them was growing. All the big money in town was here, she thought. She said, "I dressed like this because I felt like it. Don't you do things on impulse?"
"Yes. I feel like getting the hell out of here. You want?"
She nodded. "Let me get a handful of shrimp."
"Take the bowl of them."
She picked up the bowl of shrimp and her drink and he steered her out through the crowd.
She had imagined Madge watching, and Liz, but Liz was in a corner with a guy, giggling, and Madge not in sight. In the lobby Jonas got their coats and suddenly they were out of the party, in the parking lot, in his car. She ate shrimp and drank whiskey.
She slouched on the seat, her head on the backrest. She said, "There'll be hell to pay, Jonas. Your wife."
He started the car. "I never should have gone to the party after operating all afternoon. Damn-it, they party to celebrate their success in robbing people, the whole lot of them. It drives me over the edge. Screw 'em all. How do you feel?"
"Good. Great."
"I feel lousy."
"Because you're leaving a party with a girl, and your wife will find out about it?"
"No. You're the one thing I don't feel lousy about." He drove off on the avenue, stamped on the accelerator. Jane nibbled shrimp, smiling to herself. Because she had snagged Jonas away from both Liz and his wife? Maybe. Maybe she had more bitch in her than she had supposed.
"We'll get a steak," he said, wheeling the car into the parking lot of the Lakeview Restaurant. She could see the lake glimmering in the moonlight. She climbed out with her shrimp bowl and drink and they went inside to a booth with a checkered tablecloth, the kind supposed to be in cheap restaurants, but this wasn't one. Jonas ordered more drinks, and steaks, and they sat eating shrimp. Under the tablecloth his hand brushed her skirt back and settled on her bare thigh.
She said, "The shrimp are delicious. They're so expensive lately. I feel like I'm making a good thing out of Dr. Wilson's hospitality."
"Business expense, tax deductible. Besides which he'll probably inflate the cost, fake the invoices, and come out with a profit. I hear all that from Madge, how to become rich despite having sworn to the oath of Hypocrites. Your thigh feels very nice, Jane."
"I'm glad you like it." She almost giggled. She wasn't drunk but a little tight. And the shrimp were delicious, and his hand warm, firm but relaxed on her thigh, and fingers down between.
He said, "You don't mind?"
"It seems a nice, friendly thing to do. Besides, I hate your wife."
She gasped, wishing that she could recall those words.
The steaks arrived, small, oval fillets, thick and juicy. Jonas sent back the baked potatoes. Jane dumped the shrimp into their salads and Jonas' hand left her thigh as they ate steak and shrimp salad and drank more booze.
She said, "I don't really hate your wife, Jonas. It's just that I like you."
That seemed to take care of it. She felt good all through dinner, and when they went out to the car she sat over next to him with a hand on his shoulder, and when the car was out on the avenue his hand pushed back her skirt and rested on her thigh. She didn't ask where they were going. Into side streets. Eventually he pulled into a driveway beside a new ranch house and they got out.
"Your house?" she asked.
He nodded. He unlocked a door and they entered a kitchen with lunch dishes in the sink from breakfast, egg stains.
He said, "The cleaning woman is off today." He made drinks in the kitchen and took her into a spacious living room, the furniture expensively white-cushioned. They sat on a couch. Automatically she snuggled into the crook of his arm.
Jane began thinking, Did Liz draw me out of my shell? Am I here because I want to spite her, or because she woke me up? She glanced side-wise at Jonas. He knuckled her chin, turning her face up, and kissed her lightly. The firmness of his lips was startling after becoming used to Liz's, and when her cheek touched his she felt a harshness. He hadn't shaved since morning. But something in her thrilled to it, and she squirmed closer, and when his hand cupped on her breast she sighed deeply and pushed into his palm. She reached her drink glass behind her to a table and curled her arm around his neck, sagging now, face upturned, waiting for his kiss. She got it, hard, making her mouth yawn, his meaty tongue thrusting into it to her throat.
His hand stripped off her breast, pulling at the tip, and Jane sighed happily. The pressure returned, kneading her big tit. She shivered, arched her back to again press at his palm, and squash her puffy mammary crown into it.
He had gotten rid of his glass and now both hands were on her breasts, caressing them in a rotary movement while she clung to his neck and slowly, voluptuously sucked his tongue.
Then his right hand went down to her pussy. Her legs were together. At his nudge she spread them, did it because like he had said before about not wearing panties, it was honest. He flipped back her skirt and his fingers forked on her pussy lips.
Oh, she knew that it would end up like all love affairs, by her being hurt. He had more problems than he could handle and she was the one who would get it in the neck.
But just the same she fingered from his neck down his chest, down his belly, and found the long hard ridge in his pants, a bony cock much longer than she had imagined. Her hand trembled as she tested its rigidity. She explored the big head of it, then flattened her palm on it and rubbed.
She felt suddenly delighted that she was going to be fucked by this wonderfully hard tool.
Panting, she broke from his kiss and looked down at the spread of her legs, at his fingers deep in her pussy hair, rolling and tugging at her vulval lips. She was all gooey inside. Some moisture had already escaped to bedew her curly lip fluff. She raised her leg, cocked it up, and heeled the cushion, let the leg wing out to expose her cunt to his caresses.
His cock was standing up tall now, stretching his pants. It looked cramped. She seized the zipper tab and tore it down, and into view leaped a long and rigid penis capped by a magnificent plushy head, spread out wide, the split in it dribbling juice as she watched. She seized the burning shaft and fisted it tightly.
He said, "I'm going to screw you on my wife's bed."
"All right," she whispered. His finger had dipped into her vaginal mouth, which was open and slobbering. She nuzzled his throat and said, low-voiced, "I don't care where, just fill me up with that bony thing of yours. I need it."
She needed it to forget Liz, she thought. And to spite his wife. But she glanced up at him then, meeting his liquid dark gaze, and knew that she was lying to herself. She wasn't here kneading his cock and letting him finger her hole for any reason outside of him and herself. She was here because that first afternoon in the operating room he had, masked and capped, hidden except for his eyes, looked at her with unashamed hunger. He had been like a walking, breathing, staring penis, six feet tall, a man who was a stiff cock; and she, under her paper smock, had been transformed from a woman into a great hairy cunt gaping at him, opening and closing on each heartbeat, quietly belching out gushes of vaginal drool.
She thought, I've had too much to drink, that's why I conceive such fantasies. But the truth remained that Jane Hearne, R.N., had been no more than a pulsing cunt. And it had shown in her eyes, and he, the tall cocksman, had seen it. It had happened to her before with men, and that was why she had devoted herself to her work, her gymnastics, her pursuit of her B.S., and masturbation. Indeed, Liz had in no way caused this, but had been able to seduce Jane because Jonas had started her too-long puckered-up cunt drooling and gaping, and sticking the vibrator up her crotch hole had no longer been enough.
She would get hurt. Jonas had a wife and would be loyal to her, in the long run. But Jane raised up now and kissed his cheek. Maybe she needed to be wounded. Dammit, why wasn't it easier for her, the way Liz was, just a romp in bed? But her joy in kissing his cheek, in nuzzling to his ear and lipping it, in tonguing into it; this was hers and wonderful.
He asked, "Ready for bed?"
"No hurry," she whispered. "Now that I know you're going to fuck me, I feel quite contented." She blew gently into his ear, licked it again, her entire self concentrated in the tip of her tongue, winding about, tracing the configurations of Jonas' ear. Even though one hand was about his neck, fingers raking up into his hair, and her other fisted on his naked prick; all sensation was in her tongue, despite his finger up her vagina and his slow massaging of her breast. She asked, "That first time in the operating room, I felt you look right through me. I resented it. But here I am. I hope other women aren't like me. I resist, and that hurts, and then I collapse like a house of cards, which doesn't hurt at all until afterward."
She smiled against his ear, guessing that she had said too much, leaving herself open to being used like a dishrag. But as long as she could nuzzle his ear and had a handful of bony cock, nothing really worried her.
CHAPTER NINE
Jonas felt like a man of stone given life. Blood had been pumped into him, a seething liquid that swelled his muscles to bursting iron bulges and raised his penis to a throbbing ball bat of a cock that still grew under the silky soft caresses of Jane's fingers.
This was a woman, by God, these squishy lips and tongue sucking his ear, these tits like footballs, this bushily-haired vulva and steamy vagina. He was married to a three-dimensional magazine cutout who looked like perfection, and that was the trouble, perfection she had. She lacked that female flaw, a fuck-hole, that's what Madge lacked. She had a carbon copy of one, as fake as what transvestites get through plastic surgery.
Despite his professional knowledge of anatomy, Jonas couldn't pinpoint the difference between the two women. It had to be a matter of spirit. Jane enjoyed being sexy, and that had formed her into this voluptuous, loving creature.
He closed his hand on her hairy crotch and squeezed it, while keeping his finger up her vagina. There was a squirty sound and she gave a shudder, sucked hard on his ear, and then grunted softly as she hipped her twat into the pressure of his hand, squirming hard.
She whispered, "I'm getting awfully hot, Jonas."
"And I feel so horny I want to fuck you right here on the couch."
"No, on your wife's bed. I'd feel better about it there."
"Because you hate her."
"More than that."
"What, then?"
She bit his ear lightly. "I won't tell you. We girls have our secrets."
He grinned at her. There was an impishness in her big, cornflower-blue eyes. He withdrew his hand from between her legs and rose, lifting her. When she was standing, she raised her skirt, and forked her fingers on her pussy lips, pressing inward, saying, "Gosh, it's so nice and soft now!"
He slipped an arm about her and steered her toward the bedroom. She was still massaging her crotch. Her hand seemed small compared to the expanse of auburn hair surrounding it, curling about her fingers. His wife had a little blonde tuft cresting her mound and, below, little more than a silky haze on her lips. When they were engaged, the first time he got her panties off, he thought Madge had the most beautiful cunt in the world. But Jane's sprawl of belly fur and her bearded lips betokened her sexuality.
In the bedroom she stood gazing at the twin beds, still holding up her skirt with one hand, stroking her pussy with the other.
He said, "I've never seen a girl do that in front of me."
She was gazing down at her crotch now. "Well, ask me why I'm doing it."
"To keep it warm for me?"
"No, silly. It would stay steamy for hours. Because I want you to know how I am, Jonas. I masturbate a lot, you see."
"A gorgeous chick like you should be too busy with guys to ever have time for that."
"I haven't been fucked in six months. See, a man makes me less than Jane Hearne, R.N., going to be a B.S. I don't like being just a cunt, in such a state that if the right man just touches my arm I practically cum. When I wear my white cap and do my professional things, I feel tall and strong, and I want to be that way."
"Jane, I'll respect you in bed or out of it."
She spread her outer lips now and her pink clit rose into view. She fingered it, bending it about. She said, "I never feel ashamed of masturbating. Is that wrong?"
"Shame is always wrong. But maybe I have something better."
She eyed his prick, standing out of his pants long as hell, so rigid that it curved upward. She grinned. "You'll have to prove it's better."
He stepped behind her and unzipped her dress and peeled it off her. She had a beautiful ass, high, a pair of firm, white globes as big as basketballs, dwarfing the narrow waist above. She was wearing a stretch bra, a single piece of material. He rolled it upward to take it off over her arms and head, had to lift it about her tits. When it was off, he got his first sight of them nude, a pair of footballs in truth, lush melons flowing into huge aureole cones peaked with thick nipples. Still behind her, he reached under her arms and hefted them, a hot, swollen pair, heavy, so large that they seemed to occupy her entire chest, wider than her rib cage.
He hugged her back to him, fondling her tits. She nuzzled his cheek, and down her body he could see her still toying with her clit. He guessed he understood her masturbating in front of him. To retain her pride, she was showing she could make it on her own.
His prick was boring into her ass cleft, throbbing powerfully. He crouched, lowering it between her thighs against her crotch. Jane bowed her legs and squirmed until the shank of his long penis pressed the length of her juicy split. Jane looked over her shoulder down to his hands kneading the wide, out-thrusting swells of her breasts, and, below them, at her fingers squeezing her hairy lips and toying with her clit. His cockhead had poked through and now she finger-nailed the slit of it.
Her plump ass was flattened against his groin. She wriggled voluptuously, rolling her hot buttocks over his flanks. She threw her head back to nuzzle his cheek, her silky hair spilling to his shoulder in a sensual caress.
She whispered, "I'm so turned on that I sort of get a cum from every touch of flesh. But I guess I shouldn't tell you such things. You'll think I'm just an easy fuck."
He grinned. "I'm not sure you are. I haven't even gotten into you yet."
"Silly, your prick is fitted lengthwise into my split. All you'd have to do is pull back and steer it up my hole."
"D'you want me to?"
"The truth is, I'm crazy for it. But I get sidetracked. Each little thing is so exciting. Jonas, did you notice the mirror over that dresser? See us?"
He saw Madge's enormous beveled mirror. It had cost a goddamn fortune, and in it Jane arched out her belly toward the reflection, her head now back on his shoulder, her smoldering gaze fixed on their image, her blooming, big pink-crowned tits cradled in his hands, and she a thumb and index finger tweaking the head of his cock while she rolled the lips of her cunt about his rigid shank and teased her glossy, pink clit. She looked gorgeous, this big-boobed, round-hipped, long-legged woman, and, from the look in her eyes, she knew it. What he could see of himself behind her seemed hairy and clumsy.
He said, "Tell me why you want me to see you masturbate."
"I thought before, maybe to show you I can make it alone. I guess to show you I need the freedom to do, not just be. I demand that right. I'm more than just a fuck-hole."
He chuckled. "I don't entirely understand, but I'll go along because you're a great deal more than that, Jane. Now bend over. I've a horn here that's too excited to wait any longer."
She nodded smiling agreement and bent toward the beds and the mirror, raising on tiptoes and nipping his cockhead back through her oily slit to the diminutive entrance to her vagina. Jonas poked what felt like a monstrous bulb up the firm little keyhole and, surprisingly, it entered, choking her, but, as he wriggled and she backed into him, it suddenly broke through the constricted area and surged up the curve of her oozing sheath. Before he knew it he was buried to the hilt, his loins flattening the wide globes of her ass, her hairy twat lips squashed open.
"Oh, God!" Jane gasped. "Jonas, what a pole! I'm absolutely full of cock!"
She had bent low and in the mirror he saw her breasts hang out, those red-crowned bulbs beginning to ring like bells as she started a humping fuck rhythm of her own, shoving back against him, hip-jerking forward.
He gave it to her good, dug up that convulsing vagina hard, and Jane gasped with surprise. Quickly she recovered and backed, grinding her steamy, open gash on his loins, grunting with unashamed pleasure as her belly went into long, pulling spasms that seemed to want to draw the cum right out of his balls.
Then she went wild.
In the mirror he saw her face turn red. The blush of orgasm spread down her flying breasts. She was squirming and humping at the same time, swinging through a rotary motion that sent her breasts wobbling and lurching about. She had grabbed the bed covers and braced herself to take the long, sliding thrusts he was whacking up her fuck-hole. She had Spread her legs and, in the mirror, he saw his scrotum fly up between her thighs and slap her bushy mound. She saw it, too. She snatched, and held the swollen nuts against her cunt as she began jerking from head to toe, her tits batting about, hips seeming to vibrate.
"Ahh, Jonas, cum. Oh, I'm getting a big fat cum like I'm going to blow your cock right out my hole. Oh no, not that, Ohhh, Jonas, not like that, it's a sucking cum, I'm going to suck your prick right up to my heart, to my mouth...."
He heard a loud, smacking vaginal squish, which ended in an outgoing hiss and belch.
Her legs turned to rubber and she fell forward onto the bed.
Jonas followed her down, not missing a single stroke of his throbbing prick into that deep, steamy hole in Jane's belly.
* * *
She was quiet. He pumped slowly, almost lazily.
He asked, "Had enough."
"Enough? I was just waiting for you to turn me over and fuck me right." She giggled.
He laughed with her. She was earthy as hell. Not as funny as Liz, but she had a broad, wry sense of humor.
He drew out and rolled her onto her back, lengthwise on Madge's bed. Her hands came down between her thighs and drew them back, her knees alongside the wide rounds of her breasts. He looked into the magnificent display of her genital area, her white hams and the sprawling hair triangle split wide open between showing as much coral gash as he had ever seen, long from clit down to hole, lips glistening, the thick hair on them sticky with her juices. He was on his knees. He couldn't resist tasting this cunt. He shoved in, sniffing at the sweet and musky odor, then gobbled in a mouthful of vulva, lips and hair and all, and swabbed her split with his tongue.
She arched up, quivering violently.
"Jonas, your tongue! Oh, don't, oh, yes, Ohhh, lick it there, and there, oh, right up me...."
He pressed his lips to her clit and sucked it right in, and Jane shook frenziedly. Looking up her belly, he saw her mounding tits jiggle and pitch and toss beyond the pubic bush that almost filled his vision. Then, the hot, pungent taste of her cunt got to him. He could no longer do this. He had to sink his horny dong into the gaping, pulsating, squishing, drooling vagina in front of him.
He raised up and climbed her body fast, lunged at her and maybe because she was slippery everywhere his prick just slid right into her without being directed, shot up her yawning hole and was sucked home.
Mounted on her, his chest on the cushions of her tits, his loins flattening her mound, he began a slam-bang fucking as wild as he had ever achieved. He would have gone gently considering this was their, first screw but Jane was demanding it, her whole belly sucking in and milking his cock as though she had a couple of fists in there, liquid forms as strong as hands, shapeless, indeed the exact contours of his cock, but in the liquid way of her cavernous vaginal opening quite as strong as his bony shaft.
He drew the head out to stand poised over her hairy lips on each outdrawing, rammed it, socketing himself to the loins and with them squishing into her gaping split on the return. His strokes seemed a yard long, yet as fast as a blink. The sucking of her hole slowed each backward pull, but helped draw him rocketing back into her.
He was panting loudly. He heard his balls sock into her ass cleft, jarring them. His organ had become so mightily swollen that everything seemed on a gargantuan, heroic scale, as though when he shot his load it would be more than cum spewing up her gaping cunt. It would be his balls themselves, squeezing through his cock and bulleting to the depths of her body.
* * *
Jane had gotten a flaming cum when he sucked her clit, and another when this long, hard tool thrust in and his loins whacked hers, and another was building with Jonas' approaching explosion. This would be the biggie, the kind on which girls sometimes passed out, and if she were ever going to flip on a cum this was the time.
She armed his shoulders. Her legs were crossed on his back, ankles linked, heels bumping his spine when he jacked up his ass and tensed it to drive his curved pole of a cock up her to the navel. She clung, head raised to look over his shoulder and watch his hard buttocks jerk as he fucked her. The dresser mirror was in profile, and there she could see his cock lift out of the clutch of her hairy twat and hang, dripping her pussy juice, the flared head of it as big as an apple that somehow, miraculously, not only went right into her narrow, narrow vagina but did it without discomfort, sliding in as though it belonged there, had always been inside, and was simply returning home.
Her cunt was making noises, shamelessly piggish, squirty gushes and burbs.
She giggled.
Yes, she laughed, because she was being as coarse as any man and it was good, reassuring her that she was all woman. She could go down on Liz and love it, and fill herself up on cock with more enjoyment than ever in her life. She had made Jonas share the intimacy of her masturbating, and he would share other things until they knew every hair on each other's asses and developed such an ease together that she could open his pants and slip her hand in and grab cock whenever the mood took her, and he the same with her.
"I'm cumming," he gasped.
His prick had turned to stone. Her cheeks flamed, then sweat broke out on her lip. The big cum! she thought, I'm afraid I can't take it when I feel his cum squirt into me. I'll flip. I know I'll flip!
She had dug her heels into his back and was humping upward to meet his strokes, her split squishing loudly on contact. On one slam a testicle seemed to squirm up her hole along with his hard penis. That had to be an illusion. She was going wild, losing track of things, clinging to his back and looking over his shoulder at her linked ankles and between her crossed feet.
Between her feet she saw a face.
Another illusion. A dream, the cameo-beautiful face of Jonas' wife, Madge, surrounded by its shirring of blonde curls. She ignored it. She had no need of annoying visions. Her belly had turned to molten lava swarming in on Jonas' cock and squeezing it each time his scrotum slapped her ass, and suddenly he blew off inside her.
It was a fountain splashing goo as heavy as lead, and as it flew he struck her clit hard and Jane came in a roaring blast over a peak so high that she screamed as though in fear, then sped down the opposite slope, faster than on skis, taking a spurt of cockspew every second.
The violence of the orgasm almost blinded her.
But not quite. She could still see the cameo face and blonde curls in the doorway.
Jonas' wife was standing in the bedroom doorway watching them fuck.
CHAPTER TEN
Full awareness came to Jane after Jonas had pumped his load into her, every drop of it. Finally he withdrew his throbbing cock and climbed off her. She lay spraddle-legged, sex fluids spilling from her gaping vulva down her ass to the bed covers.
Jonas' penis was still magnificently erect.
He turned to face the doorway where his wife stood blanched with fury.
She wasn't alone. Behind her towered Dr. Wilson. Beside him was a handsome brunette woman, her hair cut in bangs. Jane remembered seeing her at the clinic party. A nurse, Karen something.
Madge said in a thin voice, "I think I am going to vomit."
Jane found herself shocked into clear awareness. One thing she knew for sure. Madge Blake wasn't going to vomit. Not when she had a chance to make her husband crawl to her, begging forgiveness.
She shot a glance at Jonas. He was dodging his wife's gaze. Well, that didn't make him a coward. Any man would be upset when his wife caught him in bed with another woman. Jane waited for him to recover and tell Madge to go fuck off.
He glowered at his wife. His erection began to wilt.
Jane sat up in bed. She saw Dr. Wilson looking at her as though he had never seen a naked woman before, his eyes bulging. His lower lip was wet. He sucked on it.
The silence was deadly, Wilson gasping, Madge holding a hand to her throat as though to stop her heart from leaping out of her mouth.
Jane spoke, not because she willed it, it just came out.
She said, "Madge, go ahead and vomit. Go ahead. Prove you can do it."
Madge looked stricken. She sagged back against Dr. Wilson, who put his arms about her.
Jane was sitting in a soggy circle of bed cover. She looked down at her pussy and saw that it was still gaping, the coral lips visible, drool spreading all about her.
She said, "Madge, I apologize for staining your bed covers."
There was no response. The three in the doorway clung together. Shocked. They had never experienced anything like that before. But Jane saw them in a clear, white light. Fakes. Wilson incised patients to extract their money. Madge operated on her husband's wallet. The brunette must have some parallel con working.
Jane muttered, "Oh, fuck," and climbed out of bed and picked up her white party dress from the floor. She put it on in leisurely fashion, aware that sex liquid-Jonas' semen and her cunt drool-were running down her leg. She was in no hurry to hide the guilty wetness.
At last Madge said, "So this is what goes on at the hospital!"
Jane paused, waiting until she had phrased it properly.
She said, "Madge, until you've been fucked on an operating table, you don't know what good is."
She went to the other room and got her coat and walked out of the house, chin high.
It was a long walk home. She didn't mind that. She had made a pretty good exit, she thought.
Her vagina felt as big as a bucket. She was sort of walking bowlegged. Yes, she had been very well fucked. If only Jonas hadn't frapped out when Madge barged in! He should have cracked the bitch across the chops.
Wait. Madge was his wife. You, Jane, are just somebody he works with and who has tonight for the first time gone to bed with him.
But, it didn't in her heart seem that way. More like she and Jonas were married.
She had that to think of on the way home.
* * *
At home she found Dad asleep in the living room facing the flicker of the TV. She turned it off and bent over him, kissed his forehead, and said, "Dad wake up, it's bedtime."
As she did this, she got a whiff of her body odor. Indoors, without the wind blowing her, she absolutely reeked of cunt. As her father aroused, she was afraid he would smell her. She rushed off to her room.
She threw off her coat and peeled off the clinging white dress, which looked the worse for wear. She was naked underneath. She had gone to the party without panties, had left her bra at Jonas' house. She thought, a souvenir for Madge, but not a useful one. It would hang loosely on Madge's small tits.
In the mirror she saw that her breast crowns were still puffed out to cones, hand-sized. She fisted them and gently milked them out. They felt used. And she saw that her pussy lip hair didn't conceal the glistening coral of her gash. The outer labia were still swollen open. She stood there, squeezing her fists rhythmically on her tit ends, studying herself, tousled hair and hooded, satisfied eyes, lips twisted into a sensual smile. She thought, Janey, you look fucked, and up the hole it feels wet and wiggly fluttering in and out, remembering that hard cock it had to suck on.
She moved to the bathroom, still pulling her tits, feeling her ass voluptuously, lasciviously, invitingly, as though the rolling hams formed a mouth for her inner self to speak and say, "We've had a big one inside here, aren't you envious?"
She giggled at herself as she squatted on the John to pee. She looked down between her tits and saw her pink clit protruding through her hair nest. She drew her breasts together and kneaded the ends with one hand so she could nudge that impertinent little nubbin. Just a touch, and delicious little bubbles popped steamily inside her. Ready for more! And the smell of how raunchy it was! She should bathe, but it would be nice to lie in bed sniffing the reek of cunt and thinking how good it had been to have a man's cock up her hole.
She fingered her ovaled gap, thinking, You shamelessly open thing, I could poke a fist up you. You're disgustingly loose. Everything was, even her peehole, opening to let piss squirt out like from a fire hose. It splashed so hard in the bowl that it spattered her ass, and Jane gave not a damn. Fuck that, too. Maybe the following day she could corner Jonas in his little office and charm that snake right out of his pants.
As her pee waned she still pulled her tit ends and toyed with her clit, but she frowned, knowing that because Jonas' cock had been in her she would turn into his doormat. She would walk down the B-Wing-Six corridor like her lower spine had melted, wobbling all over the place, her legs bowed, and everybody would know she had started fucking again, and when she saw Jonas, her eyes would look up and down him, eating him alive.
Her cunt really stunk. She would have to douche, at least. She got up and took the douche from the medicine cabinet and filled it with warm water, a white bulb, and a black nozzle. She squatted on the toilet again, poking the nozzle up her vagina. It got lost in all that space. She squeezed the bulb and it felt good as the spray washed the walls of her still-quivering organ.
She hadn't faced up to the fact that Madge now had an argument to use in prying Jonas loose from the hospital. She had caught her husband fucking one of the nurses, had witnesses, and would blackmail him for all it was worth. Jonas knew vaguely that she must do something about it or Madge would have him seated behind a vast mahogany desk at Wilson's clinic.
But she was in no mood to calculate what she could do. She had automatically begun fucking herself with the douche nozzle. The white bulb looked like a shiny tennis ball buried in her pussy hair. As she fingered it around, she tweaked her hot clit and pulled her nipples. She would sleep better if she got another cum. Oh, it wouldn't amount to much compared with that moment of turning inside out when Jonas had shot his load into her, but it would be an easy orgasm, for she was started now, and when she had the hots for a man she could sometimes cum by just stroking her tits or squeezing her legs together and humping a little.
She grunted as an enormous viscous bubble grew in her belly and started dividing into smaller ones that popped squishily on the thrust of the douche nozzle. Her face was burning. She had a cum already! She raised off the seat and hipped into it, hearing the squishing of her cunt, kneading her tit ends and mashing her clit.
The bubbles fired off, each bigger than the last.
She had to do something for Jonas! Tomorrow.
"Oh, Janey, you hot cunt you!" she gasped as the big bubble burst and she hip-jerked through fiery orgasm, and into a series of .smaller bubbles, tiny ones hissing out of her as she collapsed onto the John seat, smiling lasciviously and wiggling the douche nozzle in her pulsing vagina.
* * *
In the morning, as she walked from the bus into the hospital, she felt her pussy lips squish past each other on every step. It was a repetition of the night before, or the same thing still going on, and it was all Jonas' fault, the big-cocked darling man. In the locker she found clean panties and took them into the john, knowing the ones that she had put on an hour before were finished, the whole crotch band soggy.
But she found her lip hair matted from juice, and knew she would just soak through the fresh panties. She decided to do like Liz, without, try to air away the moisture.
Liz hadn't yet arrived. Nor had Jonas. She began her day bustling about with a crew of practicals, giving bed baths, feeling so good that she sang under her breath. Her inner thighs were wet, and squished when they rubbed together. This delighted her, though she hoped that she didn't smell too strongly. When she arrived at the room of the appendectomy, Hank Carson, she was in a Liz-like mood. He looked her up and down, whistling, and she said, "Mister Carson, get a grip on yourself or you'll tear your incision."
"I'm tired of gripping it. I wish you would."
"I'd love to, Mister Carson. As soon as you're healed."
He was chuckling when she left, and Jane was glad. This whole thing made her more relaxed. It was important to keep patients cheerful, and she was a better nurse for it, but couldn't quite keep her mind on her work. She was thinking of Jonas plunging in and out of her, and once, when sitting down by a patient's bed, she squeezed her legs together and in her wet crotch felt a hot tremor, a pulsing little cum.
Liz arrived. She stopped Jane in the hall, saying reproachfully, "I knew it would happen. I saw it last night. And now it shows all over you."
Jane shrugged. "That's how it is."
"You have to be more discreet. Honest, you're walking bowlegged." Jane giggled.
"Jane, scandal goes around hospitals like wildfire."
"You were in the office with him, the door locked."
"But I was quiet about it. And you're so goddamn beautiful, everybody watches you anyway."
Jane thought that Liz was looking kind of hot-eyed at her, feeling girl lust again, which Jane didn't need. No. She turned on to one person at a time.
Jonas didn't arrive until almost noon. Jane saw him unlocking his office. He beckoned. She followed him in. He still wore street clothes.
He said, "I've got to change. Shut the door."
She closed it and leaned against it, her heart thumping as Jonas sat on his bed and kicked off black street shoes.
He said, "We had a hell of an argument after you left. Everybody said the wrong thing, especially me. But, balls, Wilson and his nurse were acting so holier than thou, and everybody knows they shack up together and I'm pretty sure he screws Madge, and I accused them of it. I said I'd never been into you before and they called me a liar, and Madge threatened a divorce and I told her to go to hell."
"You did!" Jane was smiling broadly.
"But, she's my wife, see. I feel an obligation."
Jane was thinking, She's a whore, a mistress bound to him by legal ties. Outside of being his wife, she's nothing. She has no existence apart from that.
Jonas was taking off his pants.
Jane saw that his shorts front gaped, revealing the head of his penis nestled into his bushy black ruff of pubic hair. She felt a twitch inside her, then an increasing dampness between her legs.
Jonas had cast aside his pants. Sitting there in his shorts, he asked, "Got a cigarette?"
She found a pack on the desk, and a lighter. She took them to him, stood over him as they lit cigarettes.
He said, "Tell you something. You were a hell of a lot of woman last night. Madge fakes it. She's a female equivalent of a guy who can't get a hard-on. But you were so great I didn't even feel guilty about cheating on my wife. I do now, though. That's hell, isn't it? In the back of my mind there's always the thought that the right guy could make her get her jollies, come like a steam engine. See?"
She nodded. She was gazing down at the softedged triangle of his cockhead, at the wrinkled limpness of the stem. She wanted it, but even more she wanted to straighten out this mess that Jonas was in and somehow adjust herself to some sort of relation toward him. She couldn't even define what she wanted. To be his mistress sounded old-fashioned, and cramping. She had to remain independent, the autonomous Jane Hearne, R.N. Thoughtful, she turned and went to the door and locked it. She wanted privacy, to figure out things with him.
He said, "Janey, you have one beautiful ass."
She smiled. "It's big. In slacks I look like I'm all behind. I bet Madge does something for slacks."
"She does. She makes furs look good, too. She used to model for a fur company."
Jane moved back to the bed, saying, "Modeling seems empty to me, like a girl gets paid for being what she is, instead of for what she does. Madge needs work, I think." But then her mind slipped away from Madge, for she saw the head of Jonas' prick growing out of the gap in his shorts. She sighed deeply, and a tremor ran through her.
He said, "Look at that. Horny little devil! See what you've done?"
Jane licked her lips. She had a terrible desire to make it stand up like a post. She got rid of her cigarette and bent down over Jonas and nuzzled his cheek. She reached down his body to the swelling tip of his penis and squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger. It felt rubbery now, plushy soft.
She whispered, "I'm awful wet between the legs, Jonas."
She felt him slip a hand up under her skirt. She bowed her legs to let him get at her drooling twat. When he squeezed her soggy outer lips, she shuddered, groaned, spread her legs wider. Oh, it felt so good, so reassuring to have his fingers firmly pressing her pussy!
She looked down at his swelling prick, now cupped in her hand. Strangely, she wanted to taste it. She had had unpleasant experiences in going down on boys, had decided giving head was not her bag. But her mouth was slobbered by thinking of how it might feel between her lips.
There was another angle, that Madge probably never did it for him, and Jane felt competitive now. But, most important, the thought of doing it made her hot all over.
She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Jonas, it's funny, but I think I want to suck it. Isn't that crazy? Would you like me to?"
He nodded vigorously. He removed his hand from her cunt. Jane hiked up her skirt and knelt on the floor at his feet, arms on his thighs, gazing at the flaring pink cap on his fattening cock-stem. She fisted it, shook it, making the head dance about. She smiled. Then she leaned in close, extending her tongue. She thumbed the slippery underside, the glans, pressed open the split in the end, and drew it to her tongue tip.
She tasted the clear fluid oozing from the split. There was an exciting tanginess about it. It made her nostrils flare and quiver, and eagerly she curled her tongue about the meaty sloping arrowhead of flesh, all around the growing flare and even over the rim to the stem.
She pressed a soft kiss to the tip. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, she rubbed it around, touring her lips, smearing the split lubricant on them. Then she drew slobbery kisses off it, wet little pecks between tongue swabs of the growing expanse of cockhead before her eyes.
She paused, licking her lips and savoring the taste of it. She looked underneath for his scrotum. Still inside his shorts. She dipped her hand in and lifted out the sac of plump nuts, and rolled them about her palm.
She was breathing kind of hard, she thought, as she turned back to rubbing the head about her lips, making them feel creamy soft. This close, it looked just huge. And the stem was lengthening, saggy in the middle but much longer.
She slid her tongue under it, resting it in the trough, then opened her mouth wide and poked it in, stuffed it in.
Suddenly Jane's mouth was full of delicious cock.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Her excitement was intense but she managed to suck gently on the meaty length. She gazed down at the fattening shank that ovaled her lips and saw it become firmer, almost a direct line from her mouth into his glossy black ruff.
She drew off, gasping for air and looking up at him and saying, "I love sucking it, Jonas. Funny. I never did before."
"You're doing a hell of a good job. Be careful you don't make me shoot off."
Then she pressed a kiss to the bulging tip. "I think I'd like that, if I didn't choke on it. I mean, last night you shot an awful lot of cream up my hole. Really, I'd like to try swallowing it." She rubbed the slippery head about her face, licked the underside of the hardening shank. The growth of it now was almost frightening. She had to make her mouth yawn to pass her teeth over the rim, but then it was easier, a firm mouthful. The stem was hard enough that she could fist it and begin jerking it off, pulling as she sucked, pushing her hand toward the root when she breathed out.
She had only once before felt an urge to go down on a prick. That had been about two years before, on a boy named Dave. He hadn't been a very manly type, prone to giggle, and she had found herself the aggressor, becoming excited from kissing and finally stroking his thigh up to the bulge of his penis. She had wanted him to take her breasts out, but he had seemed to be content with caressing the sweatered orbs, so she had unzipped him as a hint. He still had done nothing. Then, finding her hand full of hot, swollen man meat, she had felt a sense of power, something like what a man must feel in raping a woman. She had pushed his hand away from her breasts and just sat there in Dave's car toying with his rigid prick, hers to do with as she pleased, a prong that both her hands didn't quite cover.
The existence of Dave himself had receded from her consciousness and she had somehow viewed his cock as part of herself, as though her pussy had sprouted a male organ. Curiously, two-handing the throbbing erection brought her panting toward orgasm. She had felt her mouth water as the fever mounted in her, and she had been on the point of dropping down to at least taste it when Dave had given a cry, his hips had jerked, and in front of her eyes the split in the end and opened and creamy globs of cream had fountained all over both of them.
Dave had apparently been ashamed of the incident, and had avoided her after that.
She couldn't help but think of it while softly sucking Jonas' prick. Yes, this was aggressive, and like Dave, Jonas didn't mind a woman taking the initiative. That had to be part of his attraction for her. She wondered if he would let her mount him. Her cunt was now drooling steadily and she needed action. Surely she would be able to jerk her hips like crazy if she were on top.
She forced to him, taking the head in her throat, nibbling the rigid shank, eyeing the taut, cylinder projecting from her mouth. Then, sucking and tonguing, she very slowly drew off, licking it as she surrendered the pulsing head.
She whispered, "Jonas, my crotch is all swampy. I think we better put your cock into me, let me get a good cum. But, listen, after that, let me suck your load. I really want to try it."
He responded by pressing the back of her head, drawing her into it again. She opened her mouth and let it be filled with his meat. He was unzipping her uniform dress, then unhooking her bra.
She tongued it out long enough to say, "Undressed, we'd be in trouble if an emergency call came over the squawk box."
He swore. "Maybe I should take Wilson's offer. I could lock my office door and screw you all day long, let my customers just sit in the waiting room."
"Customers?"
"Hell, yes. They'd come to buy my bedside manner. Wilson hasn't got patients, just customers. Well, it would make Madge happy. D'you want to work for me there?"
"I'm used to hospital work."
She corked onto his prick again, gave it a couple of good sucks before he drew her dress up her body and she had to disengage, raising her arms so that he could strip it off. She fisted his stem again and steered it to her mouth, slurping loudly on it. She used her other hand to un-snap his shorts. She peeled them off while still munching the fat cockhead.
Her vagina had begun to pulse hotly. She raised off and asked, "Could I ride you, Jonas?"
"Climb on, baby." He dropped back on the bed.
Naked except for her cap, garter belt, stockings and shoes, Jane got onto the bed, astride his hairy legs. She moved dog fashion until her knees bracketed his chest. Then she looked down between her hung-out tits to the pole of man meat standing up between her spread thighs, aiming at the soggy mat of her pussy hair. She lowered her gaping notch to the red-purple head, slowly settling onto it, knowing that she needn't grasp his penis to steer it between the swollen lips of her twat because they gaped widely, presenting the slipperiness of her channel and the immense opening of her fuck-hole, the easiest of targets. His fiery knob was soon enclosed, and she sank her cunt down on it, hearing it suck on the horny intruder, feeling that suck as a contraction of her vagina that burst into a series of spasms as soon as the viscous flow of it closed on man meat.
"Ooooooohhhhhh!" she cried. "I'm starting to cum on the head of your cock!"
She hung there, poised, seeing between her breasts the tall, rigid trunk of his penis, all of it exposed, only the head within the tender clutch of her vaginal sphincter muscle, which was fluttering now, daintily caressing the velvet-shod, slippery head, then contracting to mouth it inure firmly.
The cum was right there at the entrance. Tiny hot flashes chased around his knob, coalesced into a ring that slowly but surely drew in and gripped, forming a seal.
There was a single, loud suck, then a gush, and Jane cried out and shook her ass and saw rivulets of drool worm down the tower of a stem, and felt the seething heat leave. She sank down as she went soft all over, moaning softly, still watching her twat fall, engulfing the standing meat. The head rode up her hole as though it were as big as a barrel.
She watched her hairy labia spread and flatten on his loins, and her protruding pink clit disappear into his ruff.
She squatted there, kneeling, the curved cock high in her belly. She squirmed, rubbing her clit on him, and the orgasm seethed from her, opening to the nubbin, and fired it explosively. She gave a jerk, groaned, threw her head back and squeezed in again, searching for another little clitoral blow off and getting it, a bursting cum.
Panting, still braced straight-armed over Jonas, she avoided his gaze, for the orgasm had been shameful, a cum when only the knob of his penis was inside her, as though she were an animal that only needed to be touched and she would erupt.
She choked, "I shouldn't let myself go that way."
"Why in hell not?"
"It makes me feel like a pig. I want to grunt and let my cunt squirm all over you and suck and make slurping noises. I mean, it's just rutting, what animals do. I felt like I didn't even have a name, as though I gave up being who I am. As though if somebody were looking they'd see just a hairy twat swollen open and showing its pink insides all runny and smelly. I can smell myself."
"So can I. And I like it."
She glanced sidelong at him. He was smiling gently. He reached up her arms and caressed her throat with his fingertips. It made her blush.
She looked away, and saw the mirror on the wall over his desk, a larger one than a man would install. This room might have been used by nurses in the past. She saw herself in it, her naked form kneeling astride a hairy-bodied man, hands on his shoulders and arms straight, her back curved inward to her waist, and then the sharp upturn of her rump. She still wore her peaked white cap, stiffly starched, and her garter belt, white stockings, and shoes. These garments accentuated her nakedness, the big hams of her ass and her tits with their oversize pink caps. Her cap and the tidy auburn waves of hair into which it nestled belonged to Jane Hearne, R.N., but the grotesque position, the nakedness squatting on a man with his long cock filling her belly, that was someone else; the piggish, depraved girl who a few moments ago had pulled off an orgasm with only the head of Jonas' prick inside her, and moments before that had admitted she loved sucking cock.
Oh, this lascivious creature whose tits and ass were too big, her twat too hairy, had always existed, most freely and vividly in masturbation. She had probably been less ashamed of this other self than afraid of her, for she was a wanton bitch, a hot cunt who laughed at achievement and pride in her profession, who was now mounted on a man when she should be at work. Well, she often worked extra hours without additional pay. The hospital owed her this hour. But the lewd wanton within her would, if it got control, keep her in a constant state of wet panties, parading about with a roving eye, wagging her behind invitingly at whatever well-hung male aroused her lust.
She had used masturbation as an outlet for this over abundance of passion, then had tried the lesbian angle with Liz. Oh, she had liked that very much, had enjoyed cunt-lapping as much as having a tongue up her own hole. But it hadn't made an animal of her, so hot that she had arrived at work smelling of vaginal drool, and practically bowlegged.
She bit her lip. Then she whispered, "Jonas, I'm afraid. Beyond that wall is the corridor, people hurrying up and down, and yet I'm riding your cock as though it's all I care about, and it is. I used to think when I had the hots for a guy that I was in love with him, and maybe I am in love with you, but I also have a hang-up about sex. Maybe I'm a nympho trying to hold it down."
"Honey, it's a lot healthier than Madge's frigidity."
"But see, a girl built like I am, such big tits and an extremely hairy twat, I mean, I've never seen a girl with more bush than I have, well, you either get ashamed of your obvious sexuality or else you flaunt it, live for it. I've tried to do neither, live as a person, almost one that could be either male or female."
He chuckled. "As a guy you'll never make it, baby."
She shot a glance down at him. "Jonas, you're a bit of a male chauvinist pig. You do think a woman can live for her man, that it's enough."
He turned serious. "No. I respect your ambitions."
"But if I married you, you'd try to make .a Madge of me. Well, I don't want to marry you, anyhow." Then, impulsively, she lowered and kissed him, and squirmed her breasts over his hairy chest, and whispered, "I don't know what I want to do, but I do want your cock inside me, Jonas."
She nuzzled his cheek. She felt that bony shaft inside her stir. She raised again, wishing a certain distance from him, afraid that kisses and caresses might instill too much affection. Well, she wanted affection from him, and fucking, but somehow leaving her privacy, her persona, intact.
She thought, I'm a fucked-up broad trying to straighten out my life with an erect penis pulsing in my vagina, and that's a stupid-ass thing to do. Here I am, hands on his shoulders, arms straight, professional white cap perched on nicely coif fed hair, back curving down into the waist, and then all ass, my God, in the mirror I'm all ass and big thighs, and I have my professional white stockings and shoes on! I can't see the big, rib-like manhood inside me, I'm hiding it, but I look grotesque just the same.
As though to complete the picture, Jane raised up, drawing off the towering prick, saw it in the mirror red and glistening with her vaginal juice, saw her hairy lips clinging to it, pulled out because they were suckered fast on it. She raised to the head, then jogged on it, raising and lowering her behind an inch or two with the head bobbing in and out of the sphincter muscle at the mouth of her vagina.
It was a tease. She knew that it was a sex variation possible only when there was control, an experienced cock, and a cunt ready to experiment. She liked that thought. It made her seem self-possessed. Oh, filling herself up was the big thing, taking the whole bony length into her vagina, but she was gaining confidence.
In the mirror she saw her breasts swing into view each time she jogged. In this position they hung and lurched about like bells, despite their firm out-thrusting posture when she was upright. Maybe it was shameful to be so amply titted, and to have a sloshy cunt sucking greedily on the lump on Jonas' cockhead. But somehow she was facing what she was, and even though the view in the mirror was lewd, she in her pristine white cap cunt-nipping a man's penis, although her face was red with humiliation at seeing herself obscenely cunt-sucking a man's cockhead, she was beginning to feel that she could satisfy her passions and yet remain Jane Hearne, R.N.
She sank down, impaling herself on the velvet-capped spear. She squirmed on him, squeezing her oily split about on his loins. In the mirror her eyes were hooded lustfully, her smile a lascivious twist. Slowly, a fusion occurred, her starched cap no longer a thing apart from her fevered body, no longer marking a different one from the woman rotating her big white ass to knead her insides on the skewering rise of horny penis. She almost felt that she could accept herself, make her probable nymphomania a respected part of her proud self-image.
But, without Jonas the picture was incomplete.
She couldn't let Wilson and Madge suck him into the clinic. Not even if she could accompany him, for having only money would destroy her pride in her work.
Thus it was while riding his bony manhood and watching her mirror image perform the act, that she resolved to act.
She would visit Madge and issue her declaration of war, explain why she was going to fight tooth and nail for Jonas' right to determine his future.
Having decided, she felt a great serenity come over her. Her eyes closed and her lips drew back as she grunted unashamedly, pitching long and hard on the penis in her vagina, drawing herself into a controlled orgasm like climbing an acre of puffy pink clouds in the sky, then stuffing them all up her hole, compressing them to a heavy oiliness, then expelling the whole barrel of juice in a single gush.
"Aaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh!" she cried.
Jonas said, "Hey, you're making my nuts boil. You said you wanted to suck my load out. Still want to? Or should I shoot off?"
"I don't care, darling. I'll cum again either way."
Jonas began to pitch, slamming it up her convulsing hole. Jane caught the rhythm, quickly rising and falling, almost bouncing. The new cum seemed to start in the top of her head and flash to her toes. Every corpuscle in her body seemed swollen to the size of a tomato. This time she wasn't stuffing clouds up her vagina. She was riding a tree trunk.
He gasped. The globs flew upward, raising her off the bed, and she flipped right out of herself, lifted by each spurt of flying cum.
"Fuck me," she choked. "Fuck, fuck, keep on fucking...."
Endlessly the big prick throbbed and blasted, and Jane moaned until waves of heat burned her to a jelly, and she fell down on him.
Her hips still jerked, milking every last drop of man juice from his loins.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Karen Moore sat at her desk in the Wilson Clinic, frowning, upset by the Jonas Blake situation. As always, when worried she had pulled up her skirt and sat with legs apart, caressing her pussy. Usually it calmed her. But not today.
The night before she and Wilson and Madge had entered the Blake house and caught Jonas in the act of screwing that sexy redhead. Madge had, of course, gone hysterical. Wilson had pretended to be shocked, but Karen knew that he had wallowed in the sight of Jane's luscious nudity. Karen herself had been icy calm evaluating the situation, and quite displeased with the answers that she got.
Jane Hearne could keep Jonas at the hospital, which was bad for Karen on two counts. He would be a profitable addition to the clinic staff, increasing Karen's own profits from her shares in the company. But, most important, if he didn't come to the clinic, Madge might well dump him and marry Wilson, forever cutting Karen off from anything permanent with that walking gold mine.
The phone rang. Still rubbing her panty crotch, Karen reached for it.
The caller was Marie Fontaine, the practical nurse at City General Hospital that Karen had spying on Jonas Blake.
The girl said in a whisper, "Miss Moore, he's been locked in his office with Hearne for a half hour."
Frowning, Karen sought to calm herself by lifting her panty crotch aside and fingering into her split. She pressed her clit, rolled it about as she considered the matter.
Marie said, "Miss Moore, about that job at the Clinic you offered me...."
"I'll see about that," Karen said. "Marie, keep this quiet."
She hung up the phone and teased her slippery clit as she thought, Hearne could break him away from Madge and then I'd have a pretty kettle of fish!
The night before when she had gone to bed she recalled seeing Jonas hump the Hearne girl, his hard cock magnified in her view to the size of her forearm and fist. She had dreamed of seducing him after he came to the clinic. That, too, could be forfeited if Madge lost him to the Hearne cunt.
She dialed Madge's home.
Madge answered. When she heard Karen's name, her tone became suspicious.
Karen said, "Madge, you know I'm as anxious as you for Jonas to come to the clinic. Well, my nurses' grapevine tells me he is locked in his office with Hearne."
Madge was slow to answer. Finally she spoke with a sob in her voice. "What can I do?"
"Threaten to expose him to the hospital authorities, to the medical association."
Again Madge Blake hesitated. Finally, "I find it hard to believe. Last evening the Hearne girl told me she'd had nothing to do with him, and maybe she hadn't. Maybe it was the other one, Liz, until last night."
"I think he screws both of them. I saw the other one, Liz, looking at him with bedroom in her eyes."
"You'll help me, Karen?"
"We're together on this, Madge."
When she had hung up, Karen continued toying with her clit. Dammit, why shouldn't Jonas screw nurses when his wife was frigid, or worse? Karen knew that if she herself got him in bed, she could set him straight. But, as to Madge, once a man had gotten beyond her cameo-like beauty he found nothing at all.
Karen was very pessimistic about the whole thing.
* * *
Madge shed no tears, but she was crying inside.
Her prospects were horrible.
Shortly after Karen's call, the floor supervisor of B-Wing-Six phoned and said Dr. Blake had left a message, that he had operations scheduled for late this evening. He wouldn't be home before nine.
Madge sniffled at tears. That meant that he was taking Jane Hearne to dinner-or shacking up with her....
God knows she felt relieved at not having to go to bed with him. But the alternative, Wilson, now repelled her. If Jane got control of him and Madge arranged a divorce-the prospect of marrying Wilson sickened her.
She went to her bedroom and put on makeup, then a pretty new dress. Usually, parading before her mirror like this solaced her spirit. But there was no pleasure in it. She cast about her house, eyeing the handsome furnishings, not enjoying that either.
The phone rang again.
The caller was, of all people, Jane Hearne.
She said, "Mrs. Blake, I just have to talk to you, to come to some sort of understanding."
Madge was so shaken that she could only blurt, "If you want to."
"I'll be off work at five o'clock. Could I come to your house?"
Madge disbelieved her ears. At five o'clock? Then, Jonas really would be working tonight!
She agreed, hung up, and went to the kitchen and mixed a dry martini for herself. She never drank during the day, but it tasted good and helped settle her down.
She didn't fear the interview. Cat fights never disturbed her. In fact, she relished them. The problem was different. She kept seeing Jane Hearne on her bed, naked, hair tousled, her cheeks and throat aflame with passion, her crotch drooling.
She had looked so wantonly gorgeous that Madge had understood Jonas' viewpoint. And worse than that, Madge had wondered about herself. Could she lust for a girl?
* * *
After going off shift, Jane didn't take time to change clothes, simply threw her coat on over her uniform dress, and hurried out to the bus stop.
She knew that she should have bathed. She still smelled of fucking, wore no panties, and with every step her cunt made sludging sounds.
She hopped onto the bus, wondering at her haste. Well, she had a chance to get things out into the open, come to agreement with Madge, convince her that she had no designs on Jonas, wanted only his body. Had ever a mistress made such a declaration? But mistress was an old-fashioned word. The world was being created anew by women's lib. She earned her own living, she had the right to order her sex life as it pleased her. So there!
She was bursting with excitement as she left the bus on Lakeview Drive and hurried two blocks to the Blake residence. It was a handsome ranch house, well-landscaped. Madge should be pleased with it, but Jane guessed that a woman who lived for her home and her clothes would want forever bigger and more expensive, having nothing else to occupy her.
She lifted the brass door knocker and let it fall. At the clatter, the door opened and there was Madge in an emerald dress, like her eyes, looking beautiful, but smiling a bit crookedly. She held a cocktail glass in her hand.
She said, "Come in, Jane. Let's be civilized, use first names...."
Jane entered, taking off her coat, feeling rather funny in her rumpled uniform dress, compared to the sleek Madge.
Madge took her coat and said, "Please remove your cap, Jane. It looks so official. Makes me feel such an outsider, you people with your world of scalpels and anesthetics and all."
Jane unpinned her cap and tucked it into her coat pocket. She sat on the white couch Madge indicated, sinking into the silky, upholstered cushions.
"Dry martini? " Madge asked.
Jane nodded. She watched the other girl bring a pitcher and glasses. Drawing a coffee table up to the couch, she sat a cushion distant from Jane, slanted toward her.
Madge said, "We might as well be women of the world. Unless you'd rather we scream and claw each other's faces."
Jane smiled. "I think we should get along, Madge. We want different things. Why fight?"
"I'll drink to that." They touched their glasses together. Jane saw that the other's eyes were unnaturally bright. She had beer drinking, apparently. Well, get with it. Jane gulped at her martini, almost strangled on it. It was almost pure gin.
Madge said, "You and Jonas were at it today at the hospital."
It was an assertion, not a question. Jane nodded.
Madge eyed her sharply. "Even a doctor working on hospital staff earns a good bit of money."
Jane sighed, glad it was out in the open. "Madge, what you don't understand is that I pay my own way. If you had a job, a career, you'd see my point. It is exactly this, I don't give a shit how much Jonas earns. Nor do I care about getting myself a cushy job at Doctor Wilson's clinic. I earn enough, and it's all mine, and I am needed at the hospital. So there."
"You think I should have a job?"
"Yes. Then you'd respect yourself."
Madge tossed her head. "You say I don't respect myself?"
"It's obvious. You're a leech on Jonas and you know it. You're a whore."
"I'm his wife!"
"Your marriage license only proves what kind of whore you are."
With that, Madge burst into tears.
Jane eyed her steadily, sipping her drink. She finished it. She set her glass down on the coffee table, feeling a bit lightheaded from the drink. She moved closer to Madge and took the girl's slender hand between hers. She said, "Madge, we can be friends, if we speak clearly. You see, when I came to City General Hospital I hadn't faced the truth about myself. I've learned. I'm not entirely adjusted, but I feel a lot better."
Madge blinked away her tears. "What do you mean, the truth about yourself?"
"That maybe I'm a nympho. Or overly passionate. I think now I can let myself go sexually without getting hurt, with man, or woman."
Madge's eyes flew open. "Woman?" she gasped.
"Woman," Jane said, looking at Madge's lovely face, at her cone-shaped breasts, her neat little hips and long, sleekly beautiful legs. "A woman like you, Madge. Yes, with you. You think I'm in love with your husband. Maybe I am. And maybe I could be with you, too." Fresh tears ran down Madge's cheeks.
* * *
Madge thought, This is a dream, this can't be happening to me, this nurse who shacks up with Jonas calling herself a lesbian, a nympho, and suggesting-a love affair? It's insane. Who is she? Just a nurse, an underling. Nobody. Jonas is somebody. So is Wilson. And me?
Am I a whore? Jane was holding her hand. Oddly, the firm clasp gave her a sense of security. Their palms were cupped together, and Jane's other hand gently caressed the back of hers. It reminded her of childhood, two little girls running down a street, hands clasped. In the pool of tears Madge saw other things, school days, in the girls' shower room, seeing the pretty nude bodies of other girls, staring at them and wondering at the feeling of warmth inside her. There had been her girl friend, Ginny, how she used to stare at Ginny's breasts, which had been big, protruding like Jane's. Once, when they were changing to bathing suits together, Ginny's breast had bumped her arm in passing, a hot nude orb that seemed to burn an imprint on her flesh.
Through tears she saw that Jane had moved close to her, now felt those warm, soft hands slip up her arms to her shoulders. Blue eyes, inches from hers. A coral mouth, moist and partly open.
Jane's words came to her in broken fragments.
"Then you won't hate me. Kiss. I can't hurt you. Only another girl, soft like you, and a cleft between the legs."
Thoughts from her own mind mixed with these. True, Jane has no ugly cock. I hate seeing a hard penis jump into view, aiming at me-Jane's crotch is like mine . ... A soft moistness touched her lips. Madge thought, A girl's lips, pressing mine, rolling over them. No threat. Sweet. Light. A flutter. A tongue tip? The smell of her is warm, musky. A strong smell, but I don't seem to mind that. Is that my tongue, touching hers? Flower petals brushing silkily, honeyed, oh, yes, it is all honeyed....
She discovered that she had fallen back against the couch and that Jane held her face, caressing it with palms and fingertips while sucking her lips, slipping her tongue inside. And she was returning the kiss, mouthing Jane's lips and sucking the tip of her tongue.
Then she felt a caress circle her breast, the softest of feathery touches, fingers exploring, gently teasing her nipple to sharp protrusion.
Madge dared not open her eyes for fear that the dream would end.
She was clinging to Jane now, her arms vining about the girl's shoulders, fingers combing into her silky hair, a sensual mass of curls that wove magically about her fingertips. Both of Jane's hands were on her breasts, kneading them to a warm, glowing, excited state.
She thought, Maybe I've had too much to drink.
If so, thank goodness for gin.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Madge felt as though her bones had melted. She had barely enough strength to keep her arms about Jane's shoulders, her hands slowly caressing the nape of her neck and her lustrous hair. Her skirt was being pushed up, a hand nudging her thighs apart. She let them spread. Fingertips plucked at her panty crotch, drawing it aside, then stroking her downy-furred vulval lips.
While kissing, she felt a smile shape her mouth, and she sighed with pleasure.
Jane whispered, "You aren't scared?"
"No." Her lips formed the words on Jane's tongue. She delighted in the slippery feel of it. All was ease, sweetly voluptuous, except for one nagging doubt in her mind. She whispered, "Jane, I hated you. Could you feel-toward me-well, affection? Love?"
"I can love you, and your husband as well."
"Jane, I don't think I can love-a man."
"Then it's best to love a woman, if you can do that."
The answer seemed marvelously satisfying. Madge smiled and sucked at her lover's mouth, and spread her legs wider as Jane toyed with her pussy lips. She was swimming in a voluptuous pool of warm honey. She wanted it to last forever.
But Jane was pulling her out of it. She had risen and was lifting Madge, saying, "Come with me."
On her feet, Madge felt wobbly. She clung to the other girl, smiling vaguely as they moved. She found herself in the bedroom. She could hardly believe that the night before she had come to the doorway of this room and had seen her husband copulating with this girl. Now she was standing facing her mirror and Jane was undressing her, whipping off her dress, unhooking her bra. Madge saw her sharp, pointed cone breasts exposed. She blushed. Jane peeled her panties down, showing Madge's little blonde mound tuft and her downy crotch lips. She was naked, blushing, yet warm all over and wet between the legs.
Jane said, "Now you must take off my clothes."
Incredibly, Madge did it. Her fingers shook but she got off the white uniform dress, unhooked her bra, and saw those splendid big breasts spill free. She rolled Jane's panties down, baring a pubic bush such as she had never seen, a giant triangle of auburn hair, a curly beard between her legs.
She tried to unhook Jane's garter belt, but her fingers were trembling now. Feeling weak, she sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up Jane's belly to those big breasts, at their pink caps, so large and puffed that Madge's hands would scarcely cover them.
Jane bent over her, breasts hanging out now. She whispered, "Madge, darling, try sucking my nipples. I think you'll like it." She cupped her hand under a breast and brought it to Madge's face. Eagerly now, she moved to it, and licked the stiff peg. There was a taste, sweat perhaps, and a female odor that excited her. She opened her mouth and sucked on the puffed aureole.
A pulse was beating wildly inside her. She grasped Jane's hips and sucked into her mouth all the tit it would hold.
She loved it! At last, drawing off, she whispered, "I can smell you, Jane. Your heat. And I like it. I know my husband has been into you today and I should think your crotch is dirty, but I don't."
With that Jane's hands closed on her head and drew her in toward that sprawl of pubic hair, toward the wet crotch where Madge saw Jane's clit slip out into view, and, yes, she would, she would go in where her husband had been....
She plunged in, her tongue lashing at Jane's pink clit.
The moment she licked into that drooling slit, Madge knew. This was the meaning of those furtive glances in girls' shower rooms, the cause of her unease around certain women. For the very first taste went through her like an electric jolt. The smell drove her wild. Even knowing that her husband had poked his ugly tool into this girl's luscious cunt didn't deter her. She swabbed it with the flat of her tongue. She pressed her puckered lips in and sucked into them the sweet clit, and tugged at it. Her hands roved over Jane's big, satiny buttocks, trembling with excitement.
Jane bowed her legs to make space, and Madge kissed down her slit to the very mouth of her vagina, and slid her tongue up, wagging it and sucking at the runneling juices. She was panting while almost laughing with joy. She loved it! She sucked and gobbled and tongue-whipped Jane's cunt to such a frenzy that her hips began to jerk, and she ground her crotch into Madge's face.
Then Jane groaned, "Darling, I'm cumming. Let me sit down, lie down, I'm collapsing ... She moved to the bed and fell on it, her legs spraddled. Madge climbed on her knees, paused on the foot of the bed looking up between the white nurse's stockings at pinkish thighs spreading outward from that lush split bush, that humid crotch jungle crowding the long, curved slit and the gaping dark, vaginal hole. Jane still wore her garter belt, cutting her belly as she squirmed about, hips grinding, and Madge wanted to remove the garment but her lust was too immediate. She plunged in, throwing Jane's legs up on her shoulders, her mouth yawning and closing on wet-haired pussy lips, sucking, while thrusting her tongue into the juicy feast.
Jane cried, "Darling, I'm cumming. Oh, Madge, dp you like sucking my cunt?"
"I love it," Madge swore, then dug her fingers into Jane's ass-cheeks and tried to hold down the girl as she thrashed over the peak of her orgasm.
* * *
When the wildness ended, and Madge realized that she had cum violently, blanking out while lapping cunt, she found herself panting, cradled in Jane's arms, her head on the cushions of her big, wonderful tits.
She raised up and buried her lips in the hollow of Jane's throat, and whispered, "Then I'm a lesbian. I've never cum with a man, only from masturbating, and that never amounted to much. Jane, I'm glad. I'm so glad!"
She felt Jane's hand between her legs. She looked down and saw her fingers brushing about her thighs, around her blonde pubic tuft, down her pussy lips, which looked huge because the hair was little more than down, totally revealing them. Jane pressed them open and Madge's pale pink clit bobbed into view, hotly erect. Jane teased it, and waves of fire flew into Madge's belly, making her gasp. Jane whispered in her ear, "You have such a lovely pussy, darling. Do you want me to go down on it?"
Madge couldn't reply. She was too excited to speak. She felt Jane kiss down her breasts, looked, and saw her lovely face move down, down, into the spread of Madge's thighs, her tongue leaping out long and red and slashing into those blonde-haired lips, spreading them and shooting a firestorm into her belly.
Madge fell back on the bed, seizing her knees and drawing them back wide apart, opening herself to whatever Jane chose to do. Her cum had started, an orgasm so eruptive that she knew that what she had experienced before had been only the beginning.
Madge thought, My God, why didn't I guess that I am a lesbian? If I can have this, I'll never let another ugly cock be shoved into my hole!
Then she felt Jane's tongue come curling up her vagina, and, from then on, it was fireworks, bursts of steam, gushes of juice, crankings of her legs and upward pitches of her hips, huge events, yet so easy, so natural.
She smiled and laughed, and cried with joy, all through the glorious release of her orgasm.
* * *
Jonas drove home from the hospital trying to rub the back of his neck while steering with one hand. He was exhausted and his neck ached as though the bones were stretched apart. Still, he felt good. He had removed a difficult tumor and the pathologist had termed it non-malignant. Another life had emerged from his skills.
Curiously, the floor supervisor had sent a note saying that his wife was holding supper for him.
After the night before, catching him screwing Jane, she was holding supper? Unbelievable.
He parked in the driveway by the kitchen door. He went in still rubbing his aching neck. He opened the door and found Madge standing there smiling, holding out a dry martini.
Beside her was Jane Hearne. He gaped at them, too unnerved to take the drink from Madge. They were smiling at him, looking as pleased as two cats who had gotten into the cream pitcher.
He gasped, "What the hell?"
Madge said, "Jane and I have buried the ax, Jonas. Come in, you look exhausted. I'll tell you about my job."
"Job?" Things were moving much too fast-for him. He grabbed his drink from Madge and did justice to it. She took his arm and led him to the living room. Unbelievably, Jane slid her hand into the crook of the other arm. They were behaving like solicitous sisters. They seated him in his armchair, and while Madge freshened his drink, Jane brought his favorite hors d'-oeuvres, canned baby clams and a dip of mayonnaise, sour cream, lemon juice, and horseradish.
He went into a state of shock.
He ate clams and drank dry martinis. Madge said that Jane had talked her into going to work. She had just been on the phone talking to Frieda, who had a dress shop, and she had agreed to sell Madge a partnership. Madge knew clothes; they would do well.
He asked where Madge would get the money. She would hock her jewelry.
He couldn't believe in all this. He noticed that Jane was wearing a fresh uniform dress, yet he had seen her leave the hospital wearing the day's stained and rumpled one. He asked about it. Simple. They had thrown Jane's dress into the washer.
His wife and his girlfriend were suddenly, incredibly, like sisters.
Maybe he drank too many dry martinis. He lost track of events. He found himself at the table eating rare roast beef and drinking Burgundy wine. The girls were doing a lot of talking. They kept giggling together. What the hell?
Madge, his wife, was saying to him, "Jane will stay overnight. It's too late for her to go home."
None of this made sense. But what the hell, the beef was delicious, the wine glorious, and the hours of exhausting tension over the operating table left him, and he felt giddily, foolishly tight. Not drunk, just perfectly relaxed and inclined to laugh at everything the girls said. They were really entertaining, witty as all hell. Or so it seemed.
At some point during this fine evening he told them, "Carson went home tonight. Liz has a date with him. Madge, this was a college boy with genitals you wouldn't believe. Well, he was fun, and Liz Kelly says she'll marry him if the organ we witnessed on the operating table functions properly."
Not long after he told them about Carson and Liz, they decided it was his bedtime.
His wife, Madge, told him that he was to sleep in the guest bedroom.
With Jane.
* * *
Jane had put on a gauzy, hip-length yellow nightie of Madge's, and was lying on the bed in the guest bedroom when Jonas appeared in the doorway looking somewhat wobbly. His hairy torso was naked and he had unzipped the fly of his pants.
He said in a hoarse whisper, "Jane, I may be out of my mind, but I think my wife told me to sleep with you."
"Uh-huh," Jane said.
"She told me that."
"Of course she told you that. She doesn't like fucking. I do. We have it all figured out. Jonas, would you please take off your pants and get into bed?"
Taking off his pants he said, "I think my wife told me to go to bed with you. Jane, would you explain?"
"You silly ass, we can do our talking while you fuck me."
When she saw his prick revealed, up stiff and long like an iron banana, Jane drew up the skirt of her nightie and spread her legs. She guessed her cunt must be winking at him, the way it felt. Slow vaginal pulls gurgled, and as she drew back her legs cool air seeped into the gaping hole. Jonas climbed onto the bed and wasted no time in shoving his plush-shod pole into the dilating, sucking, sloshy opening in her hair-clad vulva.
She sighed with pleasure, drew her nightie up to her shoulders, and received him into her arms, his hairy chest pressing the hot mounds of her breasts. She flung her legs about him, dug her heels into his spine, and braced, lifting, humping, at the long, slick spike of his manhood.
He dug into her hard, then paused, his penis throbbing in her belly.
"Jane, tell me what's happened."
She kissed his cheek. "Well, some of it would be hard for a man to understand. Madge has decided to quit whoring and live the best she can. She despises that filthy Wilson, and you can forget about his clinic."
"Thank goodness for that. But there's some thing you're not telling me."
"Yes. We'll let you into that gradually. What it amounts to, I'm your steady screw. Okay."
"Okay."
Tightening her grip on him, closing like a fist, she pulled at her vaginal sphincter, and the pressure started him off, ramming her with long, hard thrusts, measured, even, so she had no difficulty in raising to squeeze her cunt into each stroke of his piston-like organ. She thought of that day's experiments, sucking and then riding his prick. It had been great but for a woman there was nothing like being on her back, legs wrapped around her man as he banged her into the mattress.
It wasn't a long fuck. He was tired. He soon had the bedsprings creaking and Jane moaning loudly each time his throbbing meat filled her cavernous vagina. When he shot off, his cum drove her away like a pink balloon sailing through the sky.
By the time he returned to earth they had uncoupled and Jonas was asleep.
* * *
Jane went wet-legged to Madge's bedroom. Madge, looking impossibly beautiful in a transparent green nightie, was waiting for her. She reached up her arms.
Jane bent down and kissed her, and said, "Darling, loan me your douche? I have about a quart of cream to wash out."
Madge took her to the bathroom. While Jane squatted on the John, Madge filled a douche, gave her it and a soapy washcloth to clean up with.
Madge asked, "Did you tell him about me? About us?"
"I planted seed. He'll figure it out."
"God, what a fool I was, fighting with that awful Karen Moore over that despicable Wilson! Well, it's done."
When Jane had squirted the douche up her vagina and washed off and dried, they returned to Madge's bedroom. In bed, their hot bodies pressed together, Jane kissed her lover's cheek and said, "This Frieda who has the dress shop, is she lesbian?"
"I think so. Jealous?"
"I'll learn not to be."
Jane thought, I'll have to share her with Frieda, and Jonas with Liz, I must learn to. There. That's how it will be. Learn to swing with it.
Madge had squirmed down to her breasts, and stuffed one into her mouth. Jane felt a hand rove on her thighs, then dainty fingertips walking about her swollen pussy lips.
She smiled. Out of the husband's bed and into the wife's. Strangely, she had made sense out of a sterile marriage.
Madge drew off her nipple and whispered, "I wonder if I should divorce him. It would be more honest."
"But you're obviously fond of him. It's just the sex part you can't take. What's wrong with things the way they are?"
"Nothing's wrong at all," Madge said, her mouth yawning, closing on a tit and slowly drawing it into her mouth.
In her mind Jane echoed her.
Nothing was wrong. She sighed deeply, and squirmed with pleasure as her girl-lover slowly brought her toward orgasm.
