Jennifer danced lewdly before Mel's eyes. Her cocktail dress slipped over her shoulders, exposing her breasts. The dress slithered past her hips, and Jennifer's luscious loins made him gasp. His gaze was fixed on the juncture of her thighs as she came toward him, her hands holding her breasts out for his caress. "You've always wanted to suck on these, haven't you, Mel?" Jennifer asked him teasingly. Mel knew that she was right-he had wanted to suck on her breasts, but he also wanted to do more to his boss' wife.
CHAPTER ONE
I step out of my clothes and let them fall where they will. Barbara, meanwhile, has finished undressing and is lying on the bed watching me. I roll the covers, taking care that our naked bodies come into frequent contact. She shivers once, and I know she's getting stimulated.
The bed's bare, Barbara's bare, and I'm bare. I climb up on the satin sheets and stretch out alongside her. Now that the moment's actually come, I'm curiously detached. I'm hot and my cock's hard, but I'm also cool in the head. I think that if our respective spouses were to walk in right now, I wouldn't falter or lose my nerve. That's how confident I am.
I position Barbara's thighs and torso the way I want them. I kneel between her legs. The feel of her warm thighs hugging my legs adds another inch to my hard cock. When I spread her thighs apart and aim the tip of my prick at her cunt, she throws her head back and bleats something at me in a half-whisper, but it has nothing to do with contraception. Either she's solved the problem, or she's no longer worried. If Barbara's not worried, then I'm not worried. I complete the entrance and seize her buttocks one in either hand, moving them back and forth until I'm satisfied that we can't get any closer.
I begin to move. Hoping she'll remember what I teach her, I rise as high as I can and rotate so that Barbara's clitoris is trapped between my pubic bone and the fat mound of her mons veneris. Then I proceed to give "the man in the boat" a cruise he won't soon forget. I slam him and I batter him. I treat him very roughly indeed, but his owner seems delighted by it all, if her squeals and her groans mean anything.
Yeah, my shoulders get the clawing nail treatment, but I don't mind. I'm happy to be raked bloody because I'm enjoying this fuck more than I've ever enjoyed a fuck in my life. The sensations are more intense than I imagined they would be, the mental images more electrifying. I'm me, but I'm also Barbara, that's how keenly I'm preceiving the connection. The girl and me, we're one and the same.
When I'm close, this close, to ejaculating, I ease off to let my breathing catch up with the rest of me. The cum simmers back into my balls, and I'm ready to go again. This time I don't try to be Dr. Kinsey. I give Barbara an old-fashioned in-to-the-hilt-and-out-again fucking. For ten minutes I pour the meat to her the way I hope it's never been poured before or since. I give her the kind of fucking I'd want to get if I were a woman. I....
The harsh jangle of the alarm clock woke Mel Martin from the best dream he had had in months-he was the guest of a well-known television star and in bed with his host's beautiful blonde wife. With the guy's knowlege, of course. Martin shut the alarm off and glanced at his sleeping wife, Donna. Still asleep. It took a civil defense alert to wake D. from a sound sleep. He envied her.
Martin got up to shave, dress and eat. After a plate of eggs and bacon, he knew that he would trudge off to his job with a flying service. Not out of choice, he might have explained-out of necessity. He had acquired a nagging habit over the years that he simply couldn't shake: he liked to eat.
"And what's this gauge?"
Martin, who had flown dozens of aircraft types, including a Huey helicopter in 'Nam, winced at his passenger's ignorance. She was pretty as hell, he granted, but abysmally unknowing in the ways of the air. "That's the altimeter." He put the three-year-old Mooney on a level course, backed off on the stick, then set the automatic pilot. The whole city and the distant hills were spread out below them, a panorama he had seen so many times he no longer looked twice.
Evelyn Payne, a natural blonde with a natural talent for naivete, studied the instrument panel. "What does the T stand for?"
For tail, Martin almost said, but caught himself before he said it. "Throttle."
"Oh." Mrs. Payne sent an apologetic smile his way. "It's my first flight."
Martin chuckled wryly. "I can tell." He regretted, for at least the hundredth time, Hugh Laurens' admonition against dallying with students-or prospective students. The first instructor suspected of having his balls where they shouldn't be, the owner of Airways Flying Service had once declared, would take the screwing himself. Like he would be fired, and the reason for it made known throughout the length and breadth of aviationdom. The motive wasn't morals, just safety. Airways owned a remarkable record for it. "Think you're interested in the six-week course? That's our basic, you know. Covers everything. Assures your of a single-engine rating."
"I-think so." Mrs. Payne, betraying her nervousness, clenched her fists and stared out through the cabin window. "It's a long way down when someone makes a mistake, isn't it?"
Martin laughed, admiring the way his prospect's up-tilted breasts protruded against the fabric of her sweater. A nice one. They might have gotten on well together if only he hadn't been moved from basic to intermediate. Art Geddis, the basic instructor, had called in sick today, that's why Martin was up with a novice. "The longest. You may be grounded for keeps. Okay, I'll take us down and you can talk to Mister Laurens about terms. He's flexible that way."
He took the controls, circled the field twice, then brought them in, at the tower's request, on the south runway. He made it smooth, for her sake. They taxied in silence to the hangar west of the terminal, where Airways made its headquarters. Martin took reluctant leave of both the girl and the plane. He liked them both for different reasons. "See you." He gave her a look which she might have encouraged.
She didn't. "Thank you, Mister Martin." Evelyn Payne, hips swinging, strode away in the direction of the office.
Martin, disappointed, went to clock out. He was through for the day. Business was slack to dead on Monday afternoons. Someone was out in the Comanche, but Airways' two remaining planes, a Cessna twin and a Beechcraft Bonanza, were parked on the apron. They would stay there until Tuesday, when the ground crew would check them out for another day's work.
He retrieved his car from the lot and poked it out into the afternoon traffic. Home, he thought sourly. Home to a dead marriage. Only he wasn't going home just yet. Not until he had to. He was going to meet someone. Someone named Shannon Hartgrave.
Shan Hartgrave was a buyer for the women's wear section of a large department store. She was twenty-five. She had long, flowing black hair, high, large breasts, and legs that turned heads wherever she went. Martin had met her three months ago when she drove by one afternoon with her roommate to discuss a flying lesson. Shan herself had backed out, but the roommate had gone on to graduate.
Shan had seemed to go for him, not flying. Him or his six-foot build and wavy brown hair. She hadn't tried to conceal the way she felt, either, practically asking him to make love to her if he wished. Or at least drop by her apartment for a drink, any time he felt like it.
Martin felt like it now. Christ, how he felt like it. He needed Shan the way he no longer needed D. But he brooded over his need to sneak a piece of ass. The way to save a full marriage, he said to himself, is to get into the swap scene. That's right, the swap scene. Why don't I bring it up? Because Donna would think I've turned into a pervert. So he sneaked his thrills.
As he reached the municipal auditorium for what he remembered was the largest spring showing of the season, his prick began to rise. An almost urgent need for Shan took hold of him. He parked his car and went to a side exit. A guard who knew him from prior showings allowed him inside. Martin had shed his flying suit and donned a light sport jacket, so he knew that he didn't look too out of place.
The show wasn't ready to start. He glanced around at the five hundred or so buyers and reporters waiting for the curtain. Shan wasn't in the seat assigned to her, so Martin went backstage to find her. After getting by the director of the show, he finally spotted her near the wardrobes. She saw him, too, and she hurried to meet him.
She wore a green knit mini-suit with a matching bow in her carefully parted hair. Martin hitched up his pants as he neared her. For her sake, if not his, he didn't want to stroll around backstage with a tent cropping out of his crotch.
"Mel, darling, I'm so glad you came!" Shan noticed tented peak at his loins, then smiled.
She embraced him, and Mel's tent ballooned. "I wanted to catch the end of the show and then take you home," he complained. "Looks like I'm an hour early." He had to look away. The way her breasts filled out the bodice of the mini-suit made him itch to get inside it.
"Not really. More like half an hour. Now you won't miss a thing." Shan divined his thoughts, then laughed. "Including the new see-throughs. They come on first."
"If only you were inside one," he mourned.
"Is our date still on?"
"You bet."
"Your wife still bugging you?"
"Yeah. I'm worried sick she may use the recordings in court."
Shan broke up so hard that everyone looked their way. "You're a riot, Mel!" She saw the director's signal. "No more jokes for now, though, huh? I really do have to work."
"I. wouldn't keep a hard-working girl from her bread." Mel stepped back to stand by the side as the show preparations proceeded. Assistant directors and breathless, half-dressed models seemed to be running in every direction. His neck was developing a crick from all the craning. The madness ended promptly at two-thirty, when Mel heard an excited voice informing the audience that the fashion show was about to begin. Martin followed Shan out front to sit.
Except for the hot pants and swimwear showings, some of which did feature transparent tops, he was more bored than titillated. Most of the hundred-odd walk-ons were too skinny for his taste. He sat through it, however, because he figured the reward was worth it. The reward ... was Shan herself.
At a quarter-past three, the last one passed. His reward snapped her notebook shut and slipped a hand in his. "Shall we head for my apartment, love? I may have something nice for you there. Something you'll like very much."
"Tell me, tell me," he begged, smiling.
She winked. "And spoil the anticipation?"
Mel led her from the building, tucked her inside her Firebird, then followed in his Chevrolet to her apartment. Once he had asked her what she paid for the handsome, fourth-floor quarters with the elegant carpeting and the exquisite view. Shan had laughed, winked, then she had asked him how much Airways paid him-a. point he was sensitive on. He had shut up.
"Make yourself comfortable while I fix us a couple of tonics," she advised, as soon as they were safely inside.
Martin sat down in a high-backed lounge chair. His sperm-filled balls throbbed from the many nights he had gone without sex. to punish D. for punishing him. But he knew that he couldn't be comfortable, not until he had come off at least twice. Maybe three times. Still, he could afford to sit and wait. A man had to wait for the better things in life. Shan was definitely one of the better things that had happened to him lately.
She returned from the kitchenette with the drinks and handed him one. "I hope you like them hard. I do."
He chuckled, then took a quick sip of the tonic. "I do. And it's great."
She gestured at a divan on the other side of the room. "Like to move over there?"
He moved, sitting down in the middle. Shan sat in front of him on the rug, still dressed in the simple smock that he liked her in best. She looked up at him with an expression that he didn't need any help in deciphering. Her blue eyes seemed to smolder passionately.
Martin, who suddenly didn't want the drink, met her gaze with answering fire. An urge to possess her, quickly and violently, took hold of him. He stifled it, waiting, wanting the first move to be hers.
She drained her glass, then put it aside. She reached up to unbutton his coat. She saw the sharp outline of his cock along the right leg of his trousers. Her eyes narrowed, She brought up an arm and rested it on his knee. Working a tapered finger to the tip of his prick, she scratched gently through the taut fabric of his pants.
The bulge in Mel's pants hardened instantly.
Shan smiled. She seized the hardness and squeezed, causing a tiny ejaculation and a telltale stain. "Congratulation, Mel, darling. Your glands are working."
Martin peered at the dampness on his trousers. "Yes, I'm filled to overflowing. You can imagine why."
"Want to go into the bedroom?"
He jumped up, finishing his drink in one gulp. "Please." His breath had quickened and his heart beat so rapidly that he knew that he should have been alarmed. The prospect of a good hot screw was almost more than he could stand. He swore that he would never force himself to go this long again, Shan or no Shan.
When he was down to his jockey shorts, he noticed she hadn't begun undressing yet. "Do I need a mouthwash?" he joked.
She shook her head. "I'll start after you get those off. A proper hostess, you know."
He laughed. "I know." The task of undressing was finished. He turned to let her see what a full-grown prick looked like. A man-sized prick. His was certainly man-sized. He had seven inches of rigid maleness, all of which was exposed to her view. She filled her eyes with the sight of his erecting cock.
Shan sighed.
"Well, you've seen it before."
"See it, felt it-" She laughed as he twitched his prick a few times for her. "What control! Does it do everything you want it to, Mel?"
"Almost," he admitted, still waiting for her to undress.
She quickly loosened her shift, then stepped out of it. She undid her bra and threw it on a chair. The whiteness of her breasts contrasted marvelously with the rest of her tanned body. They stood out in perfect symmetry, jutting at just the right angle.
It was Mel's turn to stare.
She shook her huge tits at him, then she turned to run her fingers through her hair, postponing the moment when she would be totally nude, entirely ready for him. The bikini panties came away last-she slipped her thumbs into the waistband and tugged, rolling the lacy garment down over her lean thighs, revealing yet another area that hadn't been exposed to the sun.
Martin whistled.
Shan arched her back and tossed her hair at him. "Which part of me do you like best?"
He eyed her breasts, her buttocks, the pink creases that trailed off to a dusky area where he could see the softly swelling mound of her cunt. A hell of a question. He liked all the parts, because they added up to a damned interesting whole. "Come over here and ask me that again."
She stepped out of her panties and took a few steps toward him, pirouetting gracefully. Finally she was near enough for him to grasp. She showed her tongue. He opened his mouth. She buried her tongue in his mouth. Pressing warmly against him, she molded her luscious body to his.
Mel discovered that his cock was trapped between their warm bodies. The stimulation was too much. He pulled his mouth away from hers. "I can't take this very long," he panted. "I haven't had pussy-real pussy-in a week."
He pushed her down on the bed and worked his way between her legs. He placed his hands behind her knees, forcing her legs upwards and apart. He gazed down at her cunt-lips. The glistening, red petals made saliva well up in his mouth. He decided to put some of it to good use. Lowering his head and forcing her legs higher, he exposed her clit.
He began tonguing it.
Shan moaned and convulsed in his arms.
Encouraged, he kissed his way along the tender flesh of her abdomen until he reached her navel. He continued upward until he encountered her warm, fragrant cleavage. He hesitated, then seized a breast in each hand and brought them together, gnawing and licking both nipples together. When the tips threatened to burst, he left off. He could feel her fingernails scratching his scalp.
"Eat me, Mel. Please eat me," she urged. "You know I love having you do that."
He wasn't averse to doing it, so he did, sending his tongue lashing into the slippery folds of her cunt. His mouth searched until the fleshy part of her pussy were caught between his teeth. Now he had a mouthful of her hot, moist cunt. He began to thrill her.
Shan's legs captured his head between them. She snatched a handful of his hair and pulled him close, almost too close to her ever-widening cunt.
Their bodies, to someone who might have burst in unexpectedly, must have harmonized beautifully on the silk sheets-hers, white and quivering, his, tanned and tense with gathering need.
"Oh, Mel, Mel-!" Shan gasped.
Mel stopped long enough to glance up at her lust-contorted face. She looked less like a soon-to-be-famous model than a coed out for some senior-year high jinks. He had plenty more in store for her.
Her climaxing movements became so vigorous that he couldn't maintain a hold; she slipped out of his hands and orgasmed thunderously. He could only let himself be swept along with the tide, marveling at the depth of her orgiastic response.
They rested. After she got her breath back, she rolled over and kissed him. "Mel, honey, you do know the way to turn me on. Now I'll do the same for you. I hope you're ready."
Mel was, or thought he was. He pulled himself up and stretched out on his back. Shan smiled into his eyes for an instant, then she tongued his nipples into turgid excitement. Moving her head still lower, she applied her tongue equally to his stomach, delving wetly into his navel..
Mel, eyes closed, felt his prick stiffen as she worked herself between his legs. Shan's fingers flew over him to complement her oral ministrations. She turned at last to the insides of his thighs, finally to his hairy balls.
She began kissing his cock, up one side then down the other. When she reached his cock's tender ridge, she tapped it adroitly with the underside of her tongue. A drop or two of lubricant appeared from the tip of his prick. She lapped them away.
"For God's sake, Shan, quit fooling around and do it!" Mel groaned.
She closed her eyes, parted her lips wider, then took all of his hard cock into her mouth. His prick was so large that she had to force part of it down her throat. She did it without gagging.
Mel, who couldn't have stopped her now, even if he had wanted to, grabbed handfuls of her hair. He had been eaten before, but never by a hot mouth like this. Shan's mouth was educated. She didn't seem to lose a breath as she started back up to the tip, then back down again, in rhythm to his bouncing prick. He could feel her panting with pleasure as she left off with the long strokes and concentrated on the head of his erection. He began to experience a feeling of uncontrollable excitement.
She felt him swelling in her mouth. She grabbed the base of his cock with one hand and squeezed, causing him to come suddenly. She milked hard with her hand, draining him of every drop of semen. She drew away after she'd finally finished, then she went into the bathroom.
She could hear her brushing away the taste of his orgasm. He wasn't hurt. Few women liked the taste of cum.
She came back to him, searching in her handbag for a comb. She began to use it on her long, silky hair. He lay on his back and watched. He knew that there would be another session in a few minutes. Right now he let her rest.
When Shan saw that he wished to wait, she went back into the kitchen to mix another round of drinks. He sat up to light one of her menthol cigarettes.
She brought back two smoothly mixed Manhattans. Martin sampled one, found it to his liking, then drained it. He smacked his lips. "You give great head and you mix drinks like a bar-school prof. Any other specialties?"
She laughed and shook her head. "My only ones." She leaned close to kiss him. "We should have been doing this all along.
Donna. Shan shouldn't have reminded him. Donna had taken to nagging him lately. If she ever found out about Shan, she would do more than nag. She would put a dent-possibly two-in his brain-box. He would have a devil of a time flying with chronic migraines. "We'll have to be careful, kid. You and me. Careful. Understand?"
"Is she so jealous?"
"Jealous? Listen, baby, she takes every call I get. Opens every letter. Make a note of that."
Shan looked scornful. "She must lack confidence in herself. A woman who's sure of herself doesn't act that way. Not if she wants to keep her man."
Mel was becoming unhappy at the direction that the conversation was going. "Let's not talk about her. Come here."
Shan came into his arms again. Without being asked, she began manipulating his prick in a way calculated to bring him to a throbbing readiness again. When his prick was hard once more, she crawled on top of him sliding down on his cock until he disappeared inside her wet pussy. "I've tasted you, Mel, now I want to feel you. I'll fuck you the best, the longest way you've ever had."
Martin liked the sound of that. He ran a hand over her pubic mound, pausing at the spot where his cock knifed into her snatch. He imagined that he could feel his stiff prick through her flesh, although he knew that he couldn't. "Sometimes the best isn't the longest."
"I'll give you both"
"Then do it and stop talking about it." He seized her breasts and pinched her nipples hard. Each time he did this, she raised her slippery cunt to the top of his cock and started back down again. They repeated the caress for endless minutes, until they were ready to climax. She moved her pussy from side to side, varying her movements to stay with his jerking cock. He met her lunges each time with a responding thrust.
They fucked and fucked with mounting enthusiasm as they reached a dizzying orgasm.
When finally they parted, it was growing dark outside. He had spent three blissful hours with her. They took turns showering, then shared another drink together. Shan suggested that they have dinner together.
Mel shook his head, although the idea was tempting. "Not a chance. I told D. I'd be home by seven." He looked at his watch. "Gives me half an hour to get there. She thinks I drove down to Mid-American Aviation to talk about an office job. Wants me to get it on the ground and keep it there. Not a bad idea. I just can't swing it now. An office job means a pay cut. Period."
"Are you satisfied with the salary Mister Laurens pays you, Mel?"
"Satisfied? Hell, no. Nine thousand dollars a year with free insurance and hospitalization. But I've only been with them for five months. It still beats what I was doing in Asia." He grimaced. "Picking lead out of chopper underbellies-and sometimes my own. The pay would crack you up."
Shan moistened her lips and snuggled closer to him. "Mel, have you heard any stories about Mister Laurens?"
"Stories? What kind of stories?"
"About the parties he gives. Sex parties. Where everything goes. He hires good-looking young men and women to-don't you understand?"
Mel, recalling a comment or two from Geddis and a ground crewman a week previous, did understand. He hadn't been around Airways long enough to fully know the score, but other things were adding up in his mind now. Like the way the girls in the office, all young, all attractive, seemed to rotate. So fast he couldn't keep track of the new faces. He had wondered, but he hadn't felt it his business to ask. Since he was married, Laurens must have assumed he wasn't interested. Or maybe that he couldn't be trusted. "Tell me more."
Shan seemed to consider the odds before replying. "I've been to some of these parties."
"What?" He looked at her in amazement. "You?"
"Don't bite my head off," she said defensively. "I needed the money. A few more parties, and I'll be able to afford a new apartment. A much nicer one. And Mel...."
"Yeah?"
"You could come, too. You'd meet a lot of swinging people and have a fucking ball."
"Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped. "I'm not for hire. Besides, the parties are all probably at night. How in God's name would I get away? What could I tell D.?"
"Tell her you're moonlighting, silly," Shan laughed. "And you would be. You'd take home extra cash every week. Any wife appreciates that. You can think of a way to explain the hours."
Martin, after thinking about what Shan said, decided that he could. He knew that there was a minor vacancy in the FAA office across the field from Airways. A night job. He could tell D. he had landed it. She would be proud of him and he could get out more often. Yes, he decided, I just might be interested in Hugh Laurens' 'parties', whatever they might be. "How would I go about getting in? Who'd vouch for me?"
Shan planted a cool kiss on his cheek. "Leave everything to me, darling. I'll take care of it."
He was still thinking about her words as he drove homeward.
CHAPTER TWO
Donna Martin wondered what was keeping Mel. It was almost seven. She knew that he hardly ever stayed out this late, and, when he did, he usually gave her a ring. One thing she knew that she wouldn't do: she wouldn't call Airways and find out if he had left there and was on his way home. She trusted Mel. He had warned her, too, against spying on him while he worked. There would be trouble, he had told her, if he ever caught her at it.
She itched, nonetheless, to dial Airways' number and find out what time he had clocked out. She realized that this would give her a clue as to whether or not he had gone straight to Mid-American. They must have told him plenty, she thought. About salaries and benefits.
Donna went over to the tiny stove to check the casserole. She felt furious with Mel, but she was determined not to show it when he came home. He liked a cheerful wife when he came in-when he came in.
Lately, Mel had made several sarcastic remarks about having to eat warmed-over meatloaf, beans, and the other inexpensive meals that were proof that they hadn't made it yet. After paying the rent and other expenses, there wasn't a great deal left from the salary that Hugh Laurens paid him. She certainly didn't dress stylishly, nor did she insist on dinner dates twice a week.
Their apartment was in one of the new high-rises, but this still left them short of space. The apartment featured a small living room, a game room, a master-sized bedroom, and a bath with a built-in sauna. They shared the pool with the other tenants.
Once, they might have considered this ideal living. They had started with nothing, or next to it, like most other newlyweds. But Mel had received his pilot's license, a single-and a twin-engine rating, and enough flying experience in the Mekong Delta to impress every charter service west of Long Island. He wanted to give her a great deal in a short time, and Donna knew that he drove himself to prove it.
She had been proud of him at first. Now she wasn't so sure. He seemed to be sliding into the same rut that swallowed up other men. Mel was no longer the quick-with-a-quip man whom she had married. Not any more. But then this might be her fault, Donna mused. She probably wasn't the bright....
She heard his key in the lock, and she whirled immediately to meet him. Unless he was jaded out of his skull, she felt that she could lift his spirits by merely opening the door. She wore a skimpy sunsuit and sandals which revealed her painted toes. The suit emphasized her size thirty-six breasts to perfection. "Did you see those people at Mid-American, darling? Did you?" She gave him a warm kiss before he could answer, then detected, unless it was her imagination, a perfume that she never wore. Not much of it, just a trace.
Mel accepted, rather than responded to, his wife's kiss. "Yeah, I saw them. They were beastly as hell. Offered me a lousy bookkeeper's job. At seven thousand dollars a year. I nearly threw up. If being grounded means taking that kind of pay slash, forget it. We'd have to move to Skidsville-maybe let your Kadett go back."
"No!" Donna wanted to see Mel with a better job, but she couldn't bear the idea of being without her own car. "Well, the casserole's ready. I used the recipe you like best. Shall we sit down?"
He shook his head. "I'm not hungry. Make me a drink. Any Scotch left?"
She sighed. "We drank the last of it three nights ago. Remember? You said we wouldn't buy any more."
"Crap on that!" Mel said angrily. "I like Scotch. If we can still afford to drive two cars, we can still afford to buy it." He seemed to get an idea. "Run out while I'm changing and find some."
Donna looked at him quizzically to see if she had heard him right. He never made demands like this of her unless he meant them. "Mel, does it-?"
"Yes. Damn it, would I ask if it didn't?"
Donna nodded and went after her purse. Why can't we disagree about some ordinary little thing, she mourned to herself. Why did it have to be about a bottle of Scotch'?
After she went out the door, Martin stared at the floor, disgusted with himself, disgusted with her. I'm a bastard, he thought, for sending poor D. out for a bottle of booze when she worked-really worked-to prepare a meal for me. But she has no business letting me get away with it. She should, for once, put her foot down. But she hadn't, and his estimation of her slumped another notch. What a sick scene this marriage is. Pretend, pretend, pretend, that's all we ever do.
He went to a cabinet and found a bottle of bourbon that Donna didn't know about. He tipped it back and drink three swallows. Then he placed the bottle behind a can of floor wax.
Martin thought about his marriage, about his life in general. He was more discontented now than ever. He didn't need an analyst to tell him that. He required numerous drinks a day just to be able to endure D. and her meaningless chatter. He felt that he had outgrown her and couldn't tell her. She probably sensed it and didn't know how or why.
He went into the bedroom and changed into his best robe, the one his wife had given him for their anniversary. The garment was trimmed in genuine ermine, a concession to the zeal and ambition of their original joining. The robe was quite comfortable. Still brooding, he lit a cigarette and sat down.
He thought about Shan. Thought about her, lusted for her. His cock grew hard and ready merely by calling her face and form to mind. After what her cunt and mouth had given him hours before, he felt that he should have been sated with her. He wasn't. He hadn't even begun to be. He wanted more of her, lots more. He wanted....
The hall door swung open. D. was back with the Scotch. She went directly to the kitchen, smiling as she passed by him. He could hear a minute later, busy with the ice and the shaker. She brought him back a soda, then sat down beside him, an icy drink in her hand.
"Why, Mel!" she exclaimed, looking down at his lap. She had noticed his erection.
Mel shrugged and tried to smile. "I was just sitting here, thinking about you, and it happened."
Donna reached over and patted his bulging prick gently, almost proudly.
Mel squirmed, stirred to still greater heights of passion. He wanted Shan, of course, but now he wanted to fuck any woman, even D. And D. was available. He finished the soda and reached for her.
She drained her glass, placed it on the floor beside his, then came into his arms. "I love you, Mel, darling." She proffered a tongue, and he accepted it. He could almost taste the promise in her mouth as she writhed in his lap.
He ran his hands beneath the sunsuit and grasped her buttocks, letting one finger explore the warmth of her hairy, hot crotch. With a little wriggling, he massaged her clit and cunt. Cunt-juices that he hadn't felt in a week dripped juicily into the palm of his hand.
He stroked vigorously, accentuating his own excitement and hers.
She snaked out of the bottom of the sunsuit. The wet flesh of D.'s hot pussy was now exposed.
"I love you, Mel!" she breathed. "Oh, darling, I love you so much! I hope you love me the same way. It would kill me if you didn't."
Martin couldn't think of a reply. He began unbuttoning the top of her sunsuit. The folds of his robe fell apart, letting his stiff prick pop free. As if on cue, Donna crawled into his lap and straddled his upstanding cock. She slammed her breasts against his chest and rubbed her nipples against his. Her nipples were rigid and tingled with a warm desire.
She tried to position her swollen cunt-lips with his cock. She needn't have bothered. His swollen meat was already seeking her dripping pussy.
His taut prick wormed into the wet tightness of her snatch. He got halfway and no further. Her cunt had deliberately tensed up on him, either to tease him or to punish him for being a rotten husband. Annoyed, he pinched her on the buttock. Her pussy relaxed, and accepted the rest of his hard cock.
Martin had to admit that D. was the greatest when it came to straight fucking. She had developed her cunt muscles to an extent that Shan would probably never appreciate. And he had been inside her pussy so many times-he, and no one else-that they fitted together perfectly. When it came to the preliminaries, though, the sucking and manual manipulations leading to the fucking, Donna fell far short. She simply wasn't much on foreplay.
Her cunt was always scrupulously clean, however. So clean that he often had the urge to eat her. She had let him eat her cunt on occasion, and once in a while she had sucked his cock. Only the way she handled his prick in her mouth disappointed him. She would never let him come in her mouth. He hoped that she would someday try it all the way, just to satisfy her curiosity. Until then, Mel realized that he would have to get his head elsewhere.
Shan's hot mouth spoiled him. Cocksucking, Mel knew, could never be the same after her.
Mel closed his eyes and tried to conjure up Shan's beautiful face. He imagined that Shan was draped across him now, taking his cock up to the hilt and loving every minute of it. No easy thing to do. Shan's cunt had felt different to him. The feel of her cunt was unlike Donna's. He really couldn't compare them, except in his mind.
Shan's pussy felt tighter, because she had been fucking fewer times. This, to a man who missed virgin cunts, made her more desirable. The movements that Shan made when she fucked him were more sensual, more exciting than D.'s. And the odor of Shan's cunt captivated him more.
"I want to finish with you on top, darling," Donna whispered. "It's better for you that way, you said."
"Okay, baby." He lifted her off his prick. She stretched out on the sofa and opened her legs to the fullest possible extent, like a high-school girl on her boy friend's car seat. He moved between her legs. Donna raised them high and wound them around his back, bare feet digging into his spine. His cock entered her vagina easily, pinning her down.
Her ass began to thrash with wild abandon.
Mel kept up a pace for fucking that seemed to match her mood for the evening: fast ... fast and furious.
"Oh, Mel, fuck me harder!" she whimpered. "Harder and faster! Give me a fucking like I haven't had in months! Fuck me!"
He fucked her, pumping away with enough vigor to wear them out. The sound of slapping flesh filled the room, blotting out his awareness of time and place. When a man fucked, Mel momentarily reflected, he thought about nothing else save the sheer joy of fucking.
The sensations intensified. He felt her cunt muscles seize his cock in a tight grip. Her cunt channel held him almost too tightly, siphoning out the precious semen that Shan's cunt hadn't taken.
"Christ, baby, ease off!" he begged, experiencing pain rather than pleasure. "I want to last awhile longer!"
Too late. She had fucked him too far along to go back. They climaxed together in a white-hot burst of feeling that promised to keep in sound sleep tonight.
Even as the spasms subsided, Donna pressed her clit against his softening prick, trying to pleasure herself still more.
Martin, to his dismay, felt his cock erecting again. Jeez, but I'm horny tonight! Did Shan slip some fly into my drink? No, it must be the Scotch. Or maybe I'm getting around to responding to blondes again. D. was a natural blonde, an ash-blonde. Usually he didn't care. Tonight, perhaps, he did.
With an effort, he pushed her away, then freed himself of her grasp. "Let's try that casserole, hon. I can't go the whole night without something solid." He belched. "On second thought, forget the casserole. Just fix us some more drinks. On the rocks or any other way."
She looked at him in bewilderment. "Are you serious? You seemed so hungry when you came in."
"I'm serious."
She put on the sunsuit, then went to do as he asked.
He took a shower.
Donna heard the water running in the bathroom and smiled to herself. Mel was in one of his sexed-out-and-running moods. She knew that she would have her hands full for the rest of the evening. He would want to do more things to her than fuck. She decided to make herself fresh and dainty for him, maybe use the bath oil she saved for special occasions.
When he came out, she put a tray full of drinks on the coffee table and went to run the water herself. When she had bathed, she sprinkled scented powder on her breasts, legs and on her cunt. Excitement began to build in her as she imagined how Mel would fuck her and for how long. They would have quite a time together for a change.
When she walked back into the living room, however, her heart sank. Two of the drinks had been consumed. Mel held a third, and his eyes were slightly glazed. He poked the drink in her direction. "Better catch up with me, hon," he grinned, slurring the words.
"Please put it back, Mel, honey," she coaxed, refusing the drink for herself. "You know I never like more than one. I've already had two this evening."
He glowered at her, still holding the drink. "Oh fuck, if I can let myself go, then so can you. Whassamatter? Don't you love me any more?"
"Of course I like you, Mel. I just don't like to drink that much." She saw his eyes clear in an instant, and she felt hurt. He was only pretending to be hurt. Something was wrong, but she didn't know what.
"Anyway, I got something to celebrate."
"What?"
"Remember the FAA vacancy I told you about? The night slot in the tower? It doesn't pay much, but at least I won't have to quit at Airways."
"Yes, yes!" she said eagerly. "What about it?"
"I won't know for sure until Friday, but I think it's mine. All five thousand of it. Brings us up to fourteen thousand dollars a year. I warn you, though. They could phase it out next month, that's how uncertain the traffic situation is."
"That's wonderful, Mel." Donna's face clouded. "But it'll keep you away from me till midnight. I won't like that at all. Isn't there some way you can transfer to the afternoon and have-?"
"No. I'll be home from three till six, and weekends." He winked. "Don't worry. We'll have lots of time to do the things we like best ... like fucking."
She was still doubtful. "If you're sure...."
"I am." He pressed a drink into her hands. "Here's to us."
She drank one, then had another. She started on a third, while trying to decode the expression in his eyes. Her head began to spin from the effects of drinking on an empty stomach. She decided that she would get pickled with him. Not to celebrate the FAA job but to help blot out the suspicion that something had happened that he didn't want to tell her about. She feared that he might drift into a new life-style where she would occupy a lesser place, possibly even be squeezed out altogether. He might-Donna shuddered at the prospect-he might eventually ask her for a divorce. All because he was working too hard for too few dollars and getting tired of it.
She waited, watching him crush out a cigarette and put aside, for the first time that evening, an unfinished drink. Then he came toward her, reaching out for her. She could have cried in relief. He still wanted her. He still cared.
Mel carried her back to the couch and gently stripped her of her sunsuit. His mouth lowered damply over her nipple and drew it in, tonguing expertly. After a few minutes, he swung away to devote similar attention to her other nipple.
She sighed with pleasure. She realized that if husbands never learned anything else, they learned the proper way to stimulate breasts. Mel certainly knew how.
He pressed her breasts together when their tips were engorged and let his tongue play across the twin peaks, exciting them to further enlargement. Donna closed her eyes and lay back in rhapsody when he got on his kness in front of her. The best part was coming now. Mel had begun to blaze a trail of fiery kisses along the inner sides of her thighs, torturing her with his delightful tongue. The feeling was almost too much to bear.
He kissed her sweetly scented cunt until he reached her clit. The touch of his tongue on the little organ nearly sent her through the ceiling. She whimpered in ecstasy. He licked her clitoris more vigorously. She responded to the stimulation by opening her cunt to his mouth. Now he could eat her better.
She felt his breath scald her thighs. Donna groaned. He had begun gnawing tenderly on the knob of her passion. She couldn't take much of this. She knew that she would come in his face, spray him with the juices and secretions of her orgasm. And if he let her come before him, she might lose interest in the other half of the night's activity. She would still suck him, of course; but her heart just wouldn't be in it.
As if had read her mind, Mel stopped eating her cunt. He took his head away from her legs and got to his feet. He smiled. "Care to give me a little cocksucking?"
She nodded. "I was wondering when you'd ask. I'm always glad to suck your prick," she lied. She enjoyed giving head only when she was aroused past the point of coherent thought. From an intellectual standpoint, taking a man's big hot cock in her mouth repelled her. She supposed it had something to do with her background.
Mel pushed her down flat again and climbed on top of her in an opposing position.
Donna hesitated, experiencing her usual qualms. His prick was huge-so bloated with blood that it actually looked big enough to choke her.
"Go on, baby," he encouraged. "Take it in. Give my prick a good hot suck." He scrambled back between her legs. This time he took an asscheek in either hand and pulled her cunt closer to his lips.
She eyed his quivering prick. Mel thrust his cock first in one direction, then another, as he sought her mouth. His cock wasn't exactly an object of beauty. On the other hand, she felt no great repugnance at the sight of his erection. At least he was clean. His prick glistened from the scrubbing that he had given it minutes before. She closed her eyes and kissed his rigid tool, her lips nibbling on the tip of his cock.
Mel was angered. He stopped what he was doing long enough to complain. "You'll have to suck better than that. Or have you forgotten how?" He then reinserted his tongue into her cunt and proceeded to lick her clit again.
This excited Donna so much that she forgot all about her nasty thoughts of fellatio, or the fact that he would drive his bloated cock down her throat. She took a deep breath and accepted his huge organ, even to the point of biting and sucking it to greater erection. It tasted of soap and water; there wasn't a trace of his tangy semen.
"That's it!" Mel praised. "You're doing fine, baby! Just keep it up!"
She kept it up, raising and lowering her mouth on the only cock that she had ever sucked. Boys had tried, during her dating days, to persuade her to suck their pricks. She had always refused so indignantly that they went away crestfallen. It was such an ego thing with young men.
Reckless or not, she still couldn't bring herself to actually swallow Mel's semen. She had sampled his cum once, and she was certain that she had never tasted anything worse-unless it was quinine. When she felt his prick swelling in her mouth, quivering on the brink of orgasm, she hurriedly pulled away. The stream of white cum burst from his prick, striking her on the cheek. One burst narrowly missed hitting her in the eye.
Mel ate her pussy hungrily then, forcing her to reach orgasm. Donna came lustily, then she watched as he rolled away, sat up, and groped for a cigarette. Resentment flared in her. This was all sex meant to men: sucking and fucking. As soon as they got their piece, the party ended. "Was I good?"
He sighed and felt for his lighter in a robe pocket. "The greatest cocksucker. You know, I think I'll have some of that casserole after all."
She went to put it on the table, pausing only to slip into a duster.
Martin stared at the casserole on his plate, smothered under gravy and surrounded by English peas and creamed potatoes. Christ! A tired man shouldn't have to eat this crap! He wanted steak and onions, with a tossed salad and maybe a stuffed pepper or two.
He stared sorrowfully at D.'s back. She was busy with the coffee. Maybe after he had been to some of Hugh Laurens' parties, they could start eating like civilized folks.
Maybe.
CHAPTER THREE
After Mel drove away, Shan had another drink alone, took a hot shower, then ate the remainder of a frozen TV dinner left over from the night before. Food was getting to be a problem for her. Either she couldn't afford to eat well, or never had the time to prepare it right. Rush, rush, rush, that was her routine.
She felt tense, despite the two orgasms she had enjoyed with Mel.
She sat on the edge of her bed in just a shorty gown, and wondered what she needed. What was missing from her life? Romance? A number of men wanted to marry her, most for the wrong reasons. Sex? She had all she could handle, from Mel and a few others. No, there was something else.
Shan admired her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. You're some knock-out, honey. Really you are. You have breasts that no woman in the world would be ashamed of. A flat belly. Thighs that make a man go misty-eyed, legs that would give a monk a hard-on. You have it all!
She closed her eyes and relived again the fuck session with Mel. For a man who made his living sitting down, he was in terrific shape. Just remembering the way he had fucked her body made her break out in a light sweat. Mel had the kind of staying power that most men just yearned for. She thought that he might have been good for two or three more fuck sessions if she had poured on the yielding-nice-girl bit.
Still, he'd been just a conquest. He'd been great in bed, but the weeks of waiting, of setting him up so that the tryst itself seemed his idea, were over.
She'd broken him to her wishes. The anticipation was over. They might still make frequent love together, but the initial thrill was gone. Vanished.
This happened almost every time Shan found someone she liked. She would play it cool, entice him with smiles and veiled promises, make him think she was naive and inexperienced. He would fall for her, and she would gobble him up-figuratively. Then she would lose interest in him. Like that. Oh, she wouldn't drop him all at once. A man had feelings, too. She would let him down easy. Months or years from now, they might even have a fuck together, for old times' sake.
Once, she'd been concerned about her predatory nature. She had gone to a psychiatrist. He'd taken some notes, asked her about her relationship with her mother, then requested that she come in for another visit. She hadn't gone back. And she no longer worried. If this was the way she was, then this was the way she was.
Would she lose interest in Mel as a sex object? She feared so. He was handsome and virile, but otherwise no more a challenge than the others. He'd loved her long, loved her well, but he was prey to the same limitations afflicting any man: he was human.
Shan tried to force herself to stop thinking about Mel Martin. Instead, she began thinking about a young man whom she had met at the last party. He'd given her his number. It was somewhere in her handbag. She went to find it. She hated the idea of sitting alone. At half-past seven, there was time for almost anything.
She found the number and mused at it, cigarette in hand, undecided about calling. The young man probably had a date already. Or maybe he didn't care for her now. Men were so flighty-on one day, off the next. But he had been well-hung: seven inches of hard cock or better. He had told her as much. She loved big pricks.
Shan shrugged and began dialing. What did she have to lose? She waited. Her cunt was getting wet as she pictured a blond, muscular young man with a thick cock all primed and ready to fuck her. She saw the young man smile and gesture at his prick. He wanted to use it on her, he indicated. Would she let him?
She would, she smiled back. She would even let him fuck her twice. Or three times.
The phone rang. Once, twice, three times. She was on the verge of hanging up when she heard someone pick it up. "Lee?"
"Yes, this is Lee. Who's calling?"
"Shan. Shan Hartgrave. Do you remember me?"
Lee Scanlon laughed. "Remember you? Hell, how could I forget you!" He sobered. "But I didn't think you'd ever call me. Or are you after the time and the weather?"
"I'm after you" she assured him. "I'm here in the apartment alone and I'm hot, wet and excited. Can you come over? Or do I have to come over there?"
"Give me ten minutes, love," Lee said. "My car's on the out, but I can bum one. You're in Chantilly Arms, aren't you?"
"Right." She was delighted that he remembered. "Fifth floor. You can take the service elevator if you like. Knock just once."
Scanlon hesitated. "You have liquid refreshments, I hope? Or shall I bring my own?"
She laughed. "I have a stock that should last us the night. Mostly Scotch."
"I'm on my way." Lee hung up.
Shan replaced the phone on the stand. She lay back on the bed and sighed with pleasure. In a few minutes ... she could feel the secretions flowing from her cunt.
Lee Scanlon's wife sat, watching him, a bitter expression on her face. Scanlon tossed away the towel and reached for a fresh shirt, humming a tune that he had come away with at the last party. He caught Dory's eye and smiled. Dory was noticeably pregnant. Like, six months or better. He'd forgotten the exact number. He scowled at her. "Think I enjoy going over there?"
She reproached him with a look. "You don't have to go. It's not a regular party. She won't pay."
"Pay, smay," he retorted. "She's one of Laurens' biggest girls. Maybe the biggest. I think she helped him set up. We can't afford to make her angry. I might not get any more calls. Then where would we be? Out the three hundred a week, that's what. Don't worry. I'll ball her silly, but I won't let her think she owns me." He winked. "You're still the one. Another couple of thousand or so, and we'll quit it. I promise."
"I don't like it, Lee." Dory stabbed the air with her cigarette. She was a pretty redhead who had once had a nice figure. "I don't like it."
"Damn it, Doris, get off my back!" Lee flared. "The money's coming in, isn't it? And we have almost five thousand saved, haven't we?"
"Yes, but...."
"Then what's the beef?"
She groped for the words. "You're hiring yourself out at stud like a-a beach bum or something."
"I'm having fun at their expense until the baby gets here," he corrected. "Those stupes think I really like their way of life. I don't. I think it stinks. But what the hell, the money's great. It's tax-free, too." He slipped the wedding ring from his hand. "Here, take this."
Dory accepted the ring, tucking it under a lamp base on top of the television set. "So I have to sit here alone while you're out having your fun," she sulked. "It isn't fair."
Scanlon laughed. "Nothing's fair, hon. Find yourself a nice program." He found his coat, pecked her on the cheek, then went out the door.
When Shan heard a soft, tentative knock on her door, she rose from the divan and went to open it. A casually dressed Lee Scanlon stood there. "Hello, baby," he grinned, keen eyes taking in her tanned legs and the outline of her body through the negligee.
"Come in," she invited. "It's good to see you."
Lee came inside, smiling faintly. He wore slacks and coat, but no tie.
"Can I take that?"
He tugged off the sports jacket and surrendered it to her, as though he intended staying a long time.
As she hung it up, she felt his gaze boring into her back. She turned around to find him appraising her, the way any stud would appraise a client. She found the look annoying. "Would you like a drink?"
"Please."
Shan opened the side-door to her roll-about bar, revealing a row of drinks, all carefully mixed and ready. She handed him one and took one for herself. They sat on the divan about a foot apart and drank in silence. This is totally unlike the parties, she thought. There it is all fun and fucking. Here ... She reached across and placed a hand on his trousered cock. She rubbed. He continued to drink. She continued to rub. His prick stiffened and began to rise. She smiled. "Would you like to fuck me, darling?"
Lee placed his drink carefully on the floor. His hands crept beneath the negligee and found her cunt. Through the thin barrier of her panties he began to palm her fleshy pussy, strong fingers delving into her moistness. Shan sighed and fumbled for the zipper on his trousers. Rather than ask him to rise so that she could free his cock, she merely loosened the top button. His pants fell open, revealing his dark-blond pubic hairs curling out from his shorts. She felt a thrill of conquest again. Lee's hand must have told him as much; his fingers encountered a new wetness.
Emboldened, Shan took hold of his pants and pulled them down to his knees. He wore green jockey shorts with a wide slit which allowed his prick to spring out. His cock was a large one, Shan estimated.
She went to her knees in front of him, wrapping her fingers around the base of his prick and applying her lips to the congested head. Her other hand gathered a palmful of his hairy scrotal sac.
Lee expelled a groan of pure pleasure as she tightened her mouth and her hands on his genitals. She sucked his prick until she felt dizzy with lust, until he was shoving his cock in and out of her mouth in rhythm with her moving mouth. She stopped. "Now eat my cunt."
His hands moved up and down the outsides of her legs. They went higher, to her hips, and he prepared to do her bidding. He pushed her back onto the divan and lowered his head, burying it in her cunt. Shan trembled with delight. Gently he kissed all around her pubic area, the inner sides of her legs, finally the lips of her cunt. He paused briefly, smelling the cologne with which she had doused her cunt. He licked her pussy, running his tongue between the two firm lips. Lee placed his mouth over her labia and began moving his tongue from side to side, literally fucking her cunt with his tongue. When she groaned encouragement, he crushed his face against her, imbedding his tongue deeper into her hairy snatch.
"That's it! If you stop doing that, Lee, I'll hate you!"
Still using his mouth on her cunt, he began to stroke her legs and hips, then her stomach. His hands moved higher and found her ripe, pointed breasts. He began to play with them. A nipple in each palm, he pinched them to hardness, to engorgement greater than she would have dreamed possible. She sobbed with pleasure. As his tongue stiffened and worked her clit more roughly, she brought her legs up and over his shoulders.
"Finish me now!" she begged.
Lee straddled her, positioning his cock at her vaginal entrance, then, leaning forward, his prick slid into her cunt. His chest touched her damp breasts and his mouth opened over hers. His tongue met a welcoming tongue. Shan's arms went around his neck. Her hips began to move in rhythm with his.
"Fuck me hard!" she gasped as he stopped to let her breathe.
He needed no instructions. With each fucking stroke, he sent his prick deep into her, pressing it against the upper neck of her sucking pussy. Her cunt worked with him, allowing easy entrance, drawing away, rising once more to receive another stroke. Finally they reached their orgasms. She cried out and pushed herself up to meet him one last time. They ended on the floor amid a tangle of arms and legs.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hugh Laurens stared at his latest prospect. Blazes! Mel had sent him a dandy one this time. Evelyn Payne had the kind of fresh-scrubbed, clean blonde look that a man couldn't take his eyes off. Or hands. He thought that it was a pity he couldn't invite her to one of his parties. She didn't look the type. He wanted to fuck her now. Laurens, an ex-pilot who was beginning to gray somewhat at the temples, began making the mental preparations. "Our beginner's course is six hundred dollars, which you may finance at eight percent if you wish. We honor all major credit cards, of course."
Mrs. Payne moistened her lips. "What about insurance?"
"You'll have a double-indemnity policy in effect for the duration of the course," he said. "It pays your survivors twenty grand, even if you yourself are at fault. We pay the premium."
"It sounds okay," she decided. She reached into her purse for a pen. "What do I sign?"
Laurens took the cue perfectly. He gestured over his shoulder toward his private office. "We can go in there for the blood-letting," he joked. "Then we'll have a drink together, provided you have no objections."
"I don't," Mrs. Payne laughed, following him.
Laurens closed and locked the door, even took the phone off its hook. Evelyn Payne, he noticed, looked thoughtful at his last maneuver. He found a contract for her to sign, validated it, then put it in the files.
"So much for business," he smiled, letting his keen eyes take in more of her. "Now for the drink." He whirled to the bar in the comer and began mixing two margaritas, using the freshest rum that he had. She deserved the best. He took hers to her. They sat down on the sofa. He let his arm fall naturally around her shoulder.
She cleared her throat. "Mister Laurens, I don't think I should let you touch me like that. I really don't." But she was smiling, a comfortable, cat-like smile. Her green eyes were veiled, and she didn't attempt to stop him.
They set their glasses aside as they drew together on the sofa. She was in the crook of his right arm, and he slipped the strap of her dress off her right shoulder. As he kissed her, he moved his hand down from her shoulder to the top of her large, soft breast, farther and then still farther until the tip of her nipple slid under his palm. His fingers titillated her nipple. He stroked her gently, baring her beautiful tit until it was completely out of the front of her dress. He massaged her breast and worked the tip, probing for sensitive nerves. He twisted, bent and moved the rosy tip with his thumb and forefinger.
"Mister Laurens," Evelyn said between kisses. "Don't make me feel too good!"
She was ripe for fucking, he knew that. But for the first time in his life, he wondered if he should. Lately Jennifer had seemed to be beside him at moments such as this, even when she wasn't. She would look at him with an accusing eye and charge him, mutely, with betraying her, with betraying their marriage. His parties were one thing; a private conquest concealed from the other was something else.
Laurens tried to push Jennifer from his mind.
She was blonde, too, and quite beautiful. But she didn't understand him or his needs. He needed her, and the conquests, and the parties.
He had never before realized to what a great extent his sense of self-esteem and confidence depended upon the conquests. With them, the world was his. Without them, he was lost. With them, he didn't have to prove anything to anyone. Without them, he had a hard time proving anything to himself.
His looks, his smooth technique, his personality, meant little now, as far as he was concerned. If this girl turned him down, his ego would suffer a blow-doubly so, because her name was already on a contract and she would be around for the next six weeks.
He wanted to apply his best efforts to an afternoon of seducing her. The seduction would easily make his day.
Thus far, as he kissed her and fondled her rich, ripe breast, she showed no sign of intending to leave his cock still aching. She did make protests, but they were mild, little more than conventional formalities for situations of this type. But still he had no guarantee of ultimate success; he had gone too far with women before and had gotten no further.
"Not too good," she repeated. "Don't make me feel too good."
"Why not?" he asked. "When two people like each other the way we do, why shouldn't they ... feel good together?"
"Because we might get carried away." She slipped to one side and picked up her margarita. He continued to slide his subtle fingers over the warm flesh and to move the taut little nub.
"Wouldn't you like to ... get carried away?" he asked.
"Maybe. I just don't know you that well."
"Well enough. Why worry about that when we have each other to enjoy?"
Evelyn shook her head. She was still smiling. "I think I should leave now, Mister Laurens."
"Soon, if you wish."
"As soon as I finish my drink."
She set her glass aside and settled into the crook of his arm again. The warmth of her body seemed to flow through his. She held herself close to him as their mouths met, and his touch went on sensitizing her bare breast. Then he slipped her other shoulder strap down and worked the cloth off the other bulging breast. He tantalized that one, too, stroking and drawing at the tip.
She stirred restlessly. "Mister Laurens...."
"Hugh. Call me Hugh."
"You do things to me that no other man ever has ... Hugh," she said.
He was pleased. "What do I do to you, darling?"
"Fill me with desire. Excite me."
He sat up straight. "How strange. I was about to say the same thing to you."
"You mean...?" Her hand left his shoulder. She slid a palm down his thigh until she encountered his cock. "Oh, yes!"
Her touch was a signal for him to go further. So were her sighs. Pressing his mouth to hers, he put his hand against her hip. He stroked the outer surface of her leg a few times, then quietly pulled up the hem of her dress. This was the real test.
He let his hand linger above her bare knee for a moment. She wasn't wearing nylons. He slid the hand along her bare leg slowly, lifting the skirt with his hand. Then he caressed both bare legs for several minutes, gradually working his way toward her warm crotch. His sexual anxiety made him feel increasingly drunk with desire.
She shifted her legs, preventing his hand from proceeding as far as he would have liked. But he did find her loins, and he made the flesh quiver beneath the rayon of her panties.
"Hugh, darling," she protested. "My dress-you'll wrinkle it."
"Take it off," he suggested.
She hesitated for a split-second. "I shouldn't."
"We're alone," he chuckled. "Anyway, you're hardly wearing it now. Don't spoil your clothes. Take it off and lay it on the desk."
"Well, all right."
She drew back from him and turned her back. He unfastened the zipper for her. She moved away from him and pulled the dress off, folding it carefully and placing it lengthwise on the desk. She stepped out of her shoes, then she turned to him again, sitting down beside him. She was dressed only in her white rayon panties now, and he wanted to fuck her more than ever. Evelyn Payne's figure was every bit as seductive as he had hoped. He could hardly wait for the finale as he took her in his arms once more.
"Let me help you with your coat," she said.
She helped him pull the coat off his shoulders, while he tugged his tie loose and unbuttoned his shirt. He wore no undershirt. When next they kissed, her warm breasts pressed firmly against his bare chest. Laurens kissed and played with her breasts for several minutes before undressing further. He was afraid to go too far too fast.
When they stopped to catch their breaths, he leaned forward and kicked off his shoes, peeling his socks off in the same motion. He started on his pants. Then he saw the resistance in her eyes. She might be ripe for fucking, might very much want to be fucked, but still he had to be careful to proceed one step at a time.
"Hugh, darling, shouldn't we stop now?" she asked, and he couldn't tell if she was serious or if she was teasing him. Once he wouldn't have cared. Now he was in suspense.
"Do you want to stop?" he fired back.
"No," she admitted, smiling. "It's just that I don't do this sort of thing very often."
He didn't give her a chance to say more. His hands grasped her warm breast. His lips met the hotness of her mouth. He showered kisses on her ribs, her sides, her back, even slipped a hand beneath the elastic waistband of her panties to get at her stomach and juicy vulva. But she stopped him. He stroked her legs and then her firm ass, baring them and then her legs again.
Evelyn whimpered. She sighed. She rolled in the curve of his arm. He lowered his head and applied his mouth to her breasts, nibbling her hard nipples with his lips. Again his hand dove into her panties. This time she moaned and responded to each pressure, each stroke, each exploration.
Laurens thought, Not long now! Not long!
When he sought her lips with his, their tongues intertwined. Then she uttered a little cry, twisted in his arms and pushed his hand away from her. She shoved her panties down to her knees and threw herself in his arms again.
Now she offered her breasts, ass and cunt to his petting. She seemed eager for him to go even further, so he went as far as a man could go. He pressed and touched everything that was available to his fingers. Hugh had long, sinewy fingers, and he played with Evelyn's cunt and asshole.
Her eyes took on a lustful gaze. Her lips were eager. Her breasts seemed about to burst with need. "Yes, yes," she said, and for the second time her hand went to his prick.
He had his clothes off now. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to fuck the girl. She reached out to touch and hold his prick, and he felt as if he'd been hit by a bolt of lightning. He hurriedly tore the panties away from her feet. Someone was calling him from the other office, but he paid them no mind.
For the first time they were completely naked together. Naked and mad with the need to fuck each other. He pushed her back on the sofa and lay down with her, careful not to force all his weight on her. For a moment they kissed and wriggled against each other. She stroked and kissed his hair.
"Fuck me," she whispered. "Hurry up and fuck me."
He found the way without difficulty. Her cunt was ready to receive his hard cock. With one rush, he went all the way.
"Fuck me," she begged. "Give me your big, hard cock. Don't be afraid to fuck me."
He wasn't. He began fucking as hard and fast as he ever had in his life. There was no pause to wait for complete control. He was like a wild man, his cock pistoning in her cunt. Then he thrust hard, jamming his balls against her asshole and his sensations skyrocketed.
The skyrocket crashed. His cock burned with pleasure, shooting flares of cum into her.
He heard the girl saying something. "Not yet!
Not yet!" Her voice was desperate.
His pleasure diminished. The flares faded and ceased. He collapsed against her.
He had succeeded in fucking her, as he wished to do, yet his loving was a failure. Because he hadn't managed to satisfy her, he felt unfulfilled and less a man.
He heard Evelyn sigh with frustration.
CHAPTER FIVE
Shan thought Lee made a good listener. He sat, head cocked to one side, on the divan while she told him one dreary story after another about her childhood. She had come from a broken home, she said, and her father's drinking habits had helped to break her family apart. She'd gotten pregnant at the age of sixteen, but a friend had helped to arrange an abortion. "Know what modeling's meant to me? A chance, that's what. A chance to make something solid out of my life."
"Then what about...." Scanlon checked himself.
"The parties?" Shan shrugged her shoulders. "They're nothing. I like the fees, that's all. I can use the money. And occasionally, like now, I meet someone I like. And he makes me...."
Two knocks sounded at the door, interrupting Shan.
Lee had started to unbutton his shirt. "Christ! Who's that? Not a boy friend, I hope."
Shan laughed. "No, of course not. That's someone from across the hall-I think. She must have heard you arrive an hour ago and now she wants to see what's popping."
Scanlon chuckled in relief. "She's too late-unless you want to start fucking all over again."
Start fucking over again? Shan found the idea attractive. She went to the door and, without opening it, called out, "Who's there?"
"It's me-Roxie," someone said. "Please let me in. I have something to tell you."
Shan unlocked the door to admit the only friend she had in the building. Roxie was a long-limbed redhead with a voluptuous figure and breasts too generous for a girl her size. She worked occasionally as a photographer's model, although Shan wasn't sure of her real occupation. She knew only that they shared the same life-styles, even the same men. Once they had shared the same man for a year-without telling him, of course.
"Come in, honey," Shan said. "I want you to meet a sweet guy. Or do you know him already?" Roxie, she remembered, had been at the last party, on a trial basis.
The latter studied Lee, who looked back with interest and nodded politely. "Yes, I know him. Lee something-or-other. Glad to see you again, darling."
"We're resting from our 'recent exertions,' " Shan explained. "Lee can explain, if you don't understand."
Scanlon shook his head. "I have to cut out. I'm supposed to meet someone." But he licked his lips as he said it.
Roxie laughed.
"Sit down and help yourself to a drink," Shan invited.
"I hope I'm not breaking anything up," Roxie said as she sat down on the divan next to Lee. She leaned over and began fixing herself a Scotch and soda.
"No, we're just resting," Shan said, sitting on the other side of Lee and picking up her drink. "Lee's going to make that party Saturday night with us," she added. "Isn't that a groove?"
"Terrif," Roxie exclaimed. She tipped up her glass for a swallow. "We not only have fun with a great bunch of people, we make a lot of money, too. I can't imagine a better set-up."
Shan swirled the ice in her glass, wondering if she should make her next disclosure. She decided that she should. "Remember the guy I was telling you about, Roxie, honey? Mel Martin? The pilot?"
The other girl nodded. "What about him?"
"Well, we had a date earlier this evening." Shan glanced quickly at Lee. She saw no change of expression on his face. He wasn't the possessive type. "He's going to try to bring some new people. He'll let me know tomorrow morning."
Lee looked suspiciously at her. "Did you clear him with Laurens? You know how careful he is about the meat he throws to his wife."
The two girls cracked up. "Be serious, darling, and let me explain," Shan stated. "If someone doesn't 'scout' new talent for the parties, we'll all be out in the cold. Understand?"
Lee shrugged. "I can always find a girl-or guy. It's not that hard."
"They have to be beautiful ... and well-built," Shan reminded him.
Lee grinned. "Most of mine are. The girls, anyway."
"Then get in touch with some of them and let me know where I can reach them, if they're interested," Shan urged. She was under pressure from Laurens to find new faces.
Roxie was staring at Lee's midsection. She seemed to like the way a few blond hairs were creeping over his shorts just below his navel. So intent was she on the observation that she hadn't noticed the way, the silent, amused way, that Shan was watching her.
"Stand up, honey," Shan said to Lee.
He looked quizzically at her, but he got to his feet. "Who do I salute?" he quipped, holding himself erect.
Before he could stop her, Roxie had yanked his shorts down.
"What is this?" he demanded, flushing with anger.
"She saw you at the party, but not enough of you," Shan laughed. "Give her a break."
Lee relented and let Roxie minutely inspect his prick and balls. But he flushed under the ordeal.
Roxie's eyes widened as she saw his limp prick. She reached over and squeezed the tip, felt it grow in her hand. Then she smiled and looked over at Shan. "Perhaps we should have a dress rehearsal for the party-or an undressed rehearsal. Know what I mean?"
Lee gazed down the top of Roxie's silk blouse at her deep cleavage. "That's the best idea I've heard in five minutes. And it beats drinking ourselves into a stupor."
Roxie stood up and began removing her lounging outfit. Shan walked behind her friend and helped her remove her bra. "Get ready for a treat, Lee, honey. Roxie has the largest breasts in town." She drew away the bra, revealing Roxie's luscious tits and her huge, reddish-brown nipples.
"And how," Scanlon agreed, eyeing Roxie's boobs hungrily. He leaned forward to kiss the tips of her huge tits. "Dimensions, please."
Roxie smiled. "They measure forty-one inches. And my waist is only twenty-two."
Lee hesitated and glanced at Shan. He didn't want to proceed further unless everyone was agreeable.
Shan inclined her head. "Go ahead. We're all friends."
Lee became more excited as he stripped Roxie of her flimsy briefs. When she stepped out of them, he stared his fill. He had seen a lot of asses in his time, but Roxie's buttocks were fabulous. The cheeks were firm and rounded, and fairly quivered with life.
"What are we waiting for?" Shan remarked. "We have all the ingredients for an orgy right here."
Roxie slipped out of her shortie. Lee reached out with both arms, gathering the girls up and pulling them close to him. His hands gripped their warm asscheeks. Then they were all kissing and licking each other's faces.
Lee pulled back first. He caught Shan's eye. "Come on. Let's give this girl a lesson."
Shan smiled and nodded. She grabbed Roxie's arm. Lee took her other arm. Together they pulled her into the bedroom. Roxie landed on the middle of the bed, legs flying apart. Lee seized one of her legs and Shan the other one, spreading her cunt wide open.
"What are you two doing to me?" Roxie giggled. "Whatever it is, don't stop. I love it."
Shan and Lee began kissing the buxom girl simultaneously, trailing a string of wet kisses down the back of her thighs and knees. They bumped heads as Lee stabbed his tongue between her legs, nibbling at her fleshy cunt.
Shan settled back to watch. She loved to view the act of love when others were providing the effort.
Stretching out so that her face was opposite his throbbing prick, Lee buried his face in Roxie's sweet-smelling pussy, mouthing the velvety softness first, then letting his tongue find and separate the soft, moist lips of her slit. No sooner had he begun licking at her clitoris in tiny, quick jabs that made her moan with excitement than Roxie's mouth closed wetly around his cock.
Sucking frantically, they ate each other. The bursting point came a few seconds later. Roxie writhed with pleasure in her orgasm, while Lee sucked in the juices that oozed from her dripping cunt.
Shan was awe-struck at the expression on Lee's face when the cum shot up the length of his straining cock, gushing forth in thick globs. Roxie swallowed his sperm unhesitatingly, as fast as it discharged into her mouth, until their climaxes had finished and both were momentarily numb with satisfaction.
They slumped apart in exhaustion.
"Is that all?" Shan inquired, lighting a cigarette.
Lee glared at her. "Have a heart," he groaned. "This is only a rehearsal. I need to save myself for the real fucking."
Shan winked at Roxie. "Correction. We need to be sure about you, Lee, darling."
"Give me a minute," he begged.
She gave him three. "Now show us what you can do."
Squirming beneath Lee, Roxie locked him between her thighs so tightly he couldn't escape. She lifted her buttocks and offered her cunt to him, all the cunt that a healthy man could want to fuck.
"Oh, I want your cock inside me!" she taunted. "God, how I want that beautiful, long, hard prick inside me! Don't you dare waste your cum on anyone else. Just stab my pussy with your big, pointed prick. Fuck me!"
Lee left off licking her breasts. He settled himself comfortably between her thighs supporting himself on hands and knees.
Shan stubbed out her cigarette and leaned forward, eager to see his cock entering Roxie's cunt.
Roxie strained toward him, hands clawing at his back, fingernails gouging bloody trails across his shoulders. Lee placed the tip of his cock between her cunt-lips and went plunging into her heated moistness in a single thrust. Roxie shuddered as his bloated prick slid in to the maximum.
"That's terrif, you seven-inch stallion!" she babbled. "You feel wonderful inside my cunt, darling! I hope you never take your cock out again! Never!"
Shan listened to this proof of her friend's arousal, then wondered if she ever said such things while under the influence of a man.
Lee began moving his prick slowly in and slowly out of her snapping cunt, making each stroke as unhurried as he could. From the way his eyes were closed, he appeared to be restraining himself by thinking of something else.
"No cheating," Shan said sternly. "You must think only about her cunt. Do I have to remind you of the rules, Lee, honey?"
"No!" he gasped. He launced into a steady pile-driving. Conversation between him and his partner became little more than a series of grunts, gasps, and heavy breathing as he pumped away, letting his ejaculation come boiling along the length of his shaft. When it reached the tip, he began vigorously driving his prick into her pussy. Roxie responded by lifting her buttocks for each stroke, permitting him to drive himself deeper into her box.
"Almost-there!" Scanlon groaned, then he slammed into her one last time. He thrashed out a mighty climax.
Roxie came, miraculously, at the very same instant. Shan heard her shrill cries of pleasure fade away as Roxie's fists drummed a tattoo on Lee's back. Shan felt flushed with heat, even though no one was touching her. She began applauding as the two finished and fell apart. "Bravo. You were both magnificent. Nelson's Estates has never seen the likes of you before." Nelson's Estates, as all three of them knew, was the site of Saturday's party.
Lee Scanlon's head wobbled in a combination of fatigue and drunkenness. "Did you have to remind me? I may have to take a bye if you two don't quit fucking me. Honest."
Shan laughed in delight. "Isn't he modest, Rox? Actually he could fuck me twice and still have something left over. Couldn't you, Lee?"
"No!" he declared, looking about for his clothes. "I'm going home."
Shan was disappointed. She had hoped he might take time to fuck her once more. She knew that she could fuck him at the party, but it wouldn't be the same. "You're horrid, Lee."
"No, just smart." He tugged on his shorts and reached for his pants. "I was born with a lot of prick, but why squander it? Besides...." He shrugged, leaving the words unsaid.
"Besides, you aren't being paid," Shan finished, smiling.
"Right." Lee had his shirt on now. He looked for his shoes, then remembered that he had left them in the living room.
Shan sighed, glancing at Roxie. The younger girl had fallen asleep right. She was snoring softly.
"And you men accuse us of being mercenary. How unfair."
Lee grinned. "Yes, isn't it?" He went to find his shoes. "See you, Saturday."
Shan hoped so. She wanted to fuck him again.
CHAPTER SIX
On Tuesday morning, his day off, Mel Martin wasn't ready to leave the apartment until ten. He and Donna had slept late again, due to having stayed up so late. She was still in the kitchen, starting to prepare breakfast.
He went to stand in the doorway, rolling his collar up for the tie that he would wear this morning. "Don't fix anything for me," he said. "I have to make the oral part of the FAA exam in half an hour. They won't wait, that's what the testing supervisor said."
She placed the box of cereal back on a shelf. "Why don't you wait a few minutes more, then I'll drive you."
He shook his head, smiling. "Remember what I told you, hon. Wives don't mix with business. I have to be alone and on my own in this work."
Donna sighed. "How long will you be?"
"I don't know," he evaded, failing to meet her glance. "If I'm delayed, I'll call you."
Before she could ask any more questions, Martin gave her a dutiful peck on the cheek and hurried back to finish dressing. He wanted to look neat this morning, but it wasn't because of any FAA exam. He had a call to make, and it concerned neither his job nor his future.
After he had gotten into his Chevrolet and was driving across town, he began racking his brain for ways to approach the girls whom he was going to see now. College girls were too sharp to be taken in by bland talk of "parties" and "a good time." He could blow it if he wasn't careful.
He had met the girls singly, over the space of a month. They would come in for a flight demonstration, and he would routinely take their names and addresses. Three had stood out from the rest because they seemed more at ease with him. When Shan Hartgrave had mentioned the need for more girls, he had thought of these three first.
They had told him that they didn't have any classes on Tuesdays, so he figured that he could get there before they went out. When he reached the campus, he circled the field house twice before finding their street. As soon as he spotted it, he turned left and drove west until he saw their house number. The house was a typical student-rooming affair, large and slightly dilapidated. But an XKE roadster, a late model, was parked in front.
Mel pulled up behind the roadster, parked, then got out. As he went up the walk, he noticed a peace sign in the window of the door. He made a mental note not to mention the fact that he was a Vietnam veteran. He wasn't ashamed of it, just wanted to be careful.
Then he saw the curtain part and a familiar face peek out. The door opened a crack. "Hey, Mel, honey, come on in. You don't have to knock. Right, girls?"
There was loud laughter from at least two other girls. Mel smiled and walked in. The girl who had peeked out slid a bolt across the door. All the shades were drawn and he had to adjust his eyes momentarily. "How are you doing, Ellen?" he asked as his eyes swept over her shapely figure. Ellen's brown hair was long and straight and she had a pretty face. She wore blue, silk pajamas.
"We just got out of bed," she informed him, eyeing his coat and tie.
Surveying the room, he saw a girl lying on a lounge chair, and another girl stretched out on a mohair sofa. He recognized both of them.
"Mel, you remember Jan and Vicki, don't you?" Ellen inquired.
"Sure." He nodded at each of the girls. "How are you?"
Jan, a cute brunette with short, page-boy hair, raised up on her elbow on the lounge chair, smiling at him. "Hi, Mel. Say, we're out of cigarettes. The straight variety. Did you bring any?"
"Yes, I brought an extra pack," he said, digging them out of his pocket and tossing them over to her. "Keep them."
Vicki, a tall blonde with long, straight hair, got off the sofa and went over to the bed to get a cigarette. After extracting one, she tossed the pack to Ellen, who took one for herself.
Jan and Vicki, the visitor noted, were also wearing pajamas. All three girls were barefoot.
"You saved the day, Mel," Vicki said as she lit the cigarette. Her stare was bold and curious. "What brings you around so early?"
"I wanted to catch all three of you before you left," Mel said, pretending to be nonchalant. "I have a proposition to make."
"A proposition!" Jan exclaimed. She looked at the other girls. "You mean something we can make some money at?"
"Yes, quite a lot of money, if you'll cooperate," he replied. "But first, how about a cup of coffee?"
Ellen headed for the kitchen. "I already have the water on. It should be boiling by now."
He could hear her, after a minute, rattling cups and saucers.
"We don't have any cream or sugar," she called out.
"That's all right. I like it black," he answered. He fidgeted at the delay. If they turned him down....
After Ellen had given them each a cup of coffee, he sat down in an armchair to drink it. The girls gathered around to hear what he had to say. He groped for a starting point.
Vicki, her luscious body distracting him further, went to take a pill box off the dresser. She opened it and removed two large pills and put them in her mouth. She then passed the pill box to the other two girls. Mel frowned. He had suspected they smoked grass and possibly dropped LSD, but didn't think they popped pills.
"Want a couple of dex, Mel?" Ellen laughed.
"No, thanks," he declined. "I'm still flying, remember. Two highs make a mess on the pavement." He cleared his throat. "What are you girls doing Saturday night? Anything special?"
Jan looked at Vicki, who glanced at Ellen. "The usual," the latter shrugged. "Dates with guys we know. A little grass. Maybe a party or two. We could stand them up ... if we have to. Why?"
Mel moistened his lips. "I'm supposed to call this girl in Rosegarden Terrace. She knows these rich people who throw ... parties."
Jan arched her eyebrows. But her mouth curled up at the comers. "What kind of parties?"
Mel flushed. "You know. Sex parties. They like young girls to participate in them. You three, for instance. They guarantee anonymity, of course. Your names won't end up in the papers. What do you think?" His eyes swept around the circle of faces. "Are you interested? If you need money, here's your chance to make some-plenty. But with the kind of bread you'd make, you'd have to put on a good show."
He paused and let his invitation sink in.
The girls consulted together. "What do you think, El?" Vicki asked. "Is it any worse than what we've been doing for fun? And we do need the money. We're still behind with the rent, or have you forgotten?"
"And if I don't have some new clothes soon, I'll be banned from all my classes," Jan sighed, rolling her eyes.
"What would we have to do?" Ellen wanted to know.
Mel wasn't absolutely sure, having never been to any of the parties. "There'll be a few young studs there that you'll have to make it with," he suggested. "All handsome."
"Oral sex, too?" Vicki demanded.
He hesitated. "Yes, I'm sure of it."
"How about you, Mel?" Jan asked. "Will you be there, honey?"
He chuckled ruefully. "I've given my word."
"Hey, that's wild," Ellen exclaimed. "If Mel's coming, it must be all right."
"Well, are you interested, or aren't you?" Martin pursued. "I have to take an answer back."
The girls put their heads together for a minute, then nodded in agreement. "We'll come," Ellen promised. She took hold of his tie. "But if anything happens, Mel Martin...." She smiled. "I won't finish that."
Mel, relieved, straightened his tie. "You'll be okay. So I'll drop by about seven Saturday night and pick you up. Be ready." He remembered something else. "Oh, yes. Wear the sexiest stuff you have. No hippie garb. See if you can glamorize yourselves a little. Black nylons and all the rest.
Know what I mean?"
The girls agreed.
Mel finished his coffee in a single gulp, then started for the door.
Jan moved to block his way. "Can't you hang around awhile, Mel, baby?" she coaxed.
He smiled and shook his head. "I have to report in this morning even if there's no one waiting." It wasn't true. He had Tuesday mornings to do with as he pleased.
Jan threw her arms around his neck and gave him a wet kiss on the mouth as she thrust her firm breasts against his chest. "See, girls," she crowed, winking at the other two. "He isn't all business."
Mel laughed and pulled free of her. "Save that for Saturday night, please. I'll see you then. Good-bye, girls."
He hurried to his car, obsessed with one thought. He couldn't wait until tomorrow to call Shan. She was in his blood. She had him hooked on her charms. He had to see her now, even if it meant being fired.
As he turned on the ignition, he smiled at how easy it had been to talk the three girls into the party arrangement. If he continued to round up new recruits this easily ... Christ! He'd soon be rich! Propositioning Ellen, Jan, and Vicki had been a calculated risk, a long shot. The risk had paid off.
Now he would please Shan. She would know that he was valuable to her. She would know.
As he headed toward Rosegarden Terrace, he began thinking about how Shan affected him. We're going to be fucking together, baby! You and me! Within a few minutes!
At Shan's apartment, while Mel was on his way there, Roxie was standing in the kitchen, greasing a fry pan. Shan was sitting on the divan in the living room, head in her hands.
"How do you want your eggs, honey?" Roxie called through the open doorway.
"Soft, but I doubt if I can hold them down," Shan groaned. "Thanks for coming over. You're a dear." She winced as the spasms in her head intensified. "What a hangover. I swear I'll never drink again."
Roxie laughed. "Says you." She cracked four eggs into the pan and put some bacon to sizzling in another pan. "You'll feel better when you get something on your stomach," she said.
She filled a small glass with tomato juice and added a few drops of Worcestershire sauce, giving it a stir. Then she took it into the living room and handed it to her friend. "Here, drink this down. It'll help straighten you out. Works every time."
Shan took the glass with a shaky hand and drank the concoction slowly. She made a face when she finished, but she didn't throw up. "Bring in the paper, will you, darling? It's just outside the door."
"Sure." Roxie went to the hall door and opened it. She bent over to pick up the paper. Then she noticed she was staring at two feet. She looked up quickly and discovered the feet's owner, a tall, handsome man. Roxie gasped.
"Excuse me," the man apologized, smiling. "I must have the wrong, apartment."
"Is that you, Mel?" Shan called out, recognizing his voice.
"Yes. Can I come in?"
"Just try to get away," Roxie laughed, scooping up the paper and ushering in the new arrival.
Mel came in. He spied Shan who was slumped in a chair. His smile vanished. "What is it? The Tuesday blahs?" Understanding suddenly dawned. "Oh, I get it. Too many tall, cool ones."
Shan nodded bleakly. "Right. I had a God-awful night." She indicated her friend. "Mel, this is Roxie. She lives down the hall."
The younger girl smiled enthusiastically. She seemed to find Mel interesting. "Hi, Mel."
"Glad to meet you," he nodded, examining her with the same interest. He turned to Shan. "I wanted to let you know about that, uh, deal you asked me about."
Shan laughed. "You can tell me in front of Roxie. She knows about everything. As a matter-of-fact, she'll be with us Saturday."
Mel appeared relieved. "Is that so? I'm happy to hear it. Anyway, I went to check with those three girls this morning. The ones I was telling you about. They're all for it. I told them the next one would be Saturday night."
Shan beamed happily. "That's terrif, Mel! That takes a load off my mind. As soon as I have breakfast, I'll call Hugh and Jennifer and let them know how many people we've found." She looked back at him. "Are you sure we can count on these girls?"
Mel spread his hands. "They're good kids. They know exactly what to do."
After breakfast, Roxie took the dirty dishes into the kitchen and put them in the sink. Shan lit a cigarette and picked up the phone. Mel sat back to watch. And listen.
"Hello, Hugh, this is Shan. Is the party still on for Saturday night? Good. Yes, I have three college girls lined up. Lee's fetching another girl. And wait till you see the new boy I'm bringing." Shan winked at Mel. "He's here with me now."
"Don't give him my name," Mel hissed. He still wasn't sure Laurens liked the idea of his coming. After he arrived, of course, it wouldn't matter.
Shan inclined her head in understanding. "Yes, they understand what's expected of them. Can we make it a little before eight? Sure. You can leave all the details to me. 'Bye, sweet." She hung up and blew Mel a kiss. "It's on. And you're in."
He loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes, glancing at Roxie. "Isn't there anything we can do to celebrate? Short of drinking, I mean."
The other girl took the hint. She looked up at a wall clock and smiled. "I need to be going, kids. Honest. I have an appointment with my hairdresser. Will you excuse me?"
Shan eyed her friend's flawless hair style, then chuckled. "You're excused, honey. See you later."
Mel waited until Roxie had left before going over to the divan. He sat down and took Shan in his arms. "I could have waited until tomorrow to call you, like we planned. But I had to drive this way, anyway, and ... well, I got this urge to see you." He pressed his lips to hers and felt her catch fire.
Shan took a deep breath and expelled it. The hangover was much better now. Maybe, she thought in amusement, Mel is great for hangovers. "I'm glad you did. I was thinking about you, too."
He ran his hands up along her back under the blouse and unsnapped her bra.
She sighed in pleasure. "Are you always so impetuous this early in the day? I thought you were a night lover."
"Not usually. You make me this way."
She squeezed the huge bulge in the crotch of his pants. "And you make me this way, too," she whispered. "Shall we get undressed?"
Mel stood up and got out of his clothes while she unzipped her skirt. He finished before she did, and he reached out to help her. While she was removing her blouse and bra, he relieved her of her panties.
They knelt on the divan, facing each other, and for a moment they admired each other's bodies.
Without taking her eyes off his face, Shan ran a cool hand down his stomach. She tightened the hand around his prick until the head swelled. Then slowly she lowered her head until her lips covered the tip of his cock. Mel moaned. Her hair fell over her face and covered his midsection. She began to suck voraciously on his prick.
Mel placed his hand behind her neck, his fingers pressing and kneading the soft flesh. He was thinking how different Shan's mouth felt on his prick in comparison to the way his wife went about sucking his cock. Donna actually seemed afraid to suck his prick.
Shan reached beneath him and took his balls in her hand. Her head began to bob up and down, each thrust taking a little more of his pulsating cock into her mouth. She was wholly absorbed in the task.
Mel felt a warm wetness stealing down his thighs. For a moment he relished the wantonness of her cocksacking act. Then he slid a hand down her back and along her buttocks until he reached her cunt. It wasn't fair to receive all the head; he wanted to give a little, too.
He inserted a finger in her squishy pussy and moved it around, withdrawing it after a minute. "Do you mind, baby?"
She raised her head and allowed him to shift position. Martin spread her legs open and buried his face between them. He began to eat her pussy hungrily.
Shan wriggled in excitement, then she adjusted her mouth over his hardness again.
As Mel bore down, her thighs tightened around his head. He could feel her teeth scraping his shaft and tighten at the base of his cock. He could no longer hold out, so he let go and came in her mouth. After he had finished, he noticed that she hadn't stopped sucking his prick. She was blowing him with a feverish pace. He tried to pull his wet prick away from her, but she wouldn't let go of his slimy organ.
A strange thing was happening to him that he had never experienced before. His cock was starting to harden again, even more than the first time.
His mouth and tongue were still trying to pry her moist cunt open. He was trying to put his whole head inside her pussy. Then he felt her entire body shake and a low groan escaped her throat. Shan's legs tightened like a vise around his head. She orgasmed, her juices flowing freely into his sucking mouth.
He had trouble holding her on the divan. A sharp pain hit his testicles, then subsided. He felt her hands squeezing the last drops of semen from his prick. When she pulled her mouth away, her head fell on his leg in exhaustion. She was gasping for breath.
Mel wanted to remain there for the day, but he realized that Donna would be waiting for him. Besides, he knew that in the state he was in now, he doubted that he could fulfill Shan's wanton needs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hugh Laurens took the call from Shan Hartgrave on the hall extension. He had been on his way to the pool when the phone rang. He listened to the news she had communicated to him, nodded in satisfaction, then praised her for being a sharp girl. "Call me if there's anything new." He hung up and continued through his new $85,000 home to the patio. He was bored already with the lace, china, paintings, and all the other proof that he had arrived. They meant nothing to him.
He wondered who the new man was. Shan had mentioned a male prospect who was attractive and well-hung. Jennifer would be glad to hear it. She loved big cocks.
When he reached the sliding glass door to the patio, he paused and looked out at her. She was sitting on a chaise lounge, sipping a gin and soda and reading the New York Times. Poor kid, he thought. She'll never stop trying. We'll never be accepted in genteel society. Never. We've started too late. And too low.
Jennifer was thirty-six years old, but she didn't look it. She had golden-blonde hair, a pretty face, and a body she kept in flawless shape. She was wearing long earrings that dangled every time she moved her head.
Laurens mentally kicked himself. She was all he desired in a woman, yet he still wanted to fuck young girls. A stream of young girls, in fact. Satyriasis, that's what his psychiatrist called it. There was no known cure. Jennifer had gone along with him on the sex parties, even to the extent of participating herself. But now and then she would ask him to give up this way of life, and he would adamantly refuse.
He slid the glass door open and walked outside. After pausing at the bar to pour himself a Scotch on the rocks, he strolled over to his wife. "Darling, Shan just called. She's found some new people for Saturday night-some college girls and a guy for you."
Jennifer looked up at him, a gleam in her eye. "I see you always make sure I'm drawn into it so I can't complain."
"Now, dear, don't be sarcastic," he replied, smiling.
She sighed. "I wish you'd grow up, Hugh. Sex isn't everything."
He had his own ideas about that, but he kept them to himself. He didn't want another argument. They argued too much of late.
Jennifer finished her drink and stood up. "I promised to go shopping with a couple of friends, but I'll be back in time for lunch," she announced. "Will you excuse me?"
He nodded. "I'll see you later, baby." He watched her go into the house, admiring the way the sunsuit clung to her svelte body. He sat down to finish his drink. Half an hour later, he heard his wife's car pull out of the drive. He closed his eyes and sprawled back on the lounge chair. Idly, he touched his cock through his swimming trunks. His prick began to swell. Laurens was amused at the idea of playing with himself at his age. But after all, he told himself, a man's cock was his own.
"Hello, Mister Laurens," someone said.
He jumped, looking to see who it was. It was Mary, the precocious nineteen-year-old daughter of the architect next door. Laurens scowled at her, but he really wasn't angry, just ashamed that she had almost caught him jacking off. Mary was quite an eyeful. "Hello, yourself. You might knock sometime."
Mary laughed. She was a pretty redhead who wore her hair short, against the current styles. She was dressed in an artist's smock. He had heard that she had talent with a brush. Other talent, too, if the back-fence gossip meant anything.
"I saw you sunning yourself and decided to come over and ask a favor. I want you to sit for me. I'll even pay, if it matters."
Laurens realized in shock that his hand was still at his crotch. He hastened to move it away. "G'wan. An old coot like me?"
Mary's face expressed shock, not that she had caught him masturbating but that he thought of himself as old. "Mister Laurens, really!" She leaned against the other lounge chair and scolded him. "Aren't you ashamed? Why, I've seen men half your age who aren't in the shape you are." She licked her lips and eyed his sun-bronzed body.
Laurens, after debating the odds and deciding they were worth it, determined to really give himself something to be ashamed of. "Can you come inside a minute? I want you to give me your opinion of a woodcut."
"Sure." Without hesitation, Mary followed him into the house.
Laurens congratulated himself again on having no house servants. That was one concession they hadn't made to wealth. As soon as the glass door was safely shut, he pulled his trunks down to his knees. His brown cock sprang out at her. "Well, what do you think?" he asked, straight-faced.
Mary, for an instant, appeared startled. She quickly recovered. "What about your wife?"
"She just left for the morning. Get your clothes off, honey. I want to see that young cunt of yours."
Mary's arms went around her back automatically. She unzipped the smock, then removed it and dropped it to the floor. She wore no bra, and her firm young breasts stood out straight without assistance. She was wearing a scanty pair of panties over a garter belt and black nylons. Laurens could see her dark-auburn pubic hair.
Putting her thumbs in the waistband of her flimsy panties, she tugged them down, revealing a lush expanse of pubic hair.
Laurens stepped out of his bathing shorts and kicked them aside. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to one of the guest rooms. When they arrived, he laid her carefully across the bed. Bending over her, he trailed kisses from her breasts to her belly. She quivered beneath him as he tongued her navel. He raised his head to ask a question. "You're not cherry, I hope."
"Cherry?"
"Virgin."
Mary laughed. "My, goodness, no."
"Are you protected?"
She nodded. "I have a diaphragm. My parents are modern about sex."
That was all the encouragement Laurens needed. He bent to the task. His hands left hers and went around her back. He drew her solidly against him, felt her breasts yielding, her flesh scorching his. His blood rushed to his prick.
Mary acted as if she wanted to kiss him and to tear her mouth away from his at the same time. He kept her close to him and ran his hands up her spine, stroking her smooth, firm back. She shook in his arms.
"Don't!" she said breathlessly.
"Mary...." Laurens bit back what he was about to say, then he let his caresses plead for him.
"That's enough! I don't know why I-"
He touched her buttocks and then her back again. She struggled to get away, and her breasts rubbed against him.
"Let me go!"
When he kissed her ear, she turned around quickly, facing him. Their open mouths met once more. She strained, as if trying to complete the act of love by a mere kiss. Laurens darted his tongue forward.
"Please let me go, Mister Laurens!" the girl begged.
"Free-flying lesson-you let me go on," he panted, trying to kiss her breasts.
To stop him, she pushed against his chest, inflaming him further.
"No!" she said, "I don't love you! I'm not even sure I like you!"
He was sure of something. He was sure he was going to fuck Mary.
For Laurens, this wasn't one of those cases where he was going to take a little bit at a time, urging her to go just a little farther and then a little farther until she lost her head and went all the way. He felt that Mary had already lost her head, or was very close to doing so. Without rushing her, he had to score before she regained her wits.
He brought his hand around between them and found her breast. He attacked her resilient globe, teasing her nipple until her breaths and heartbeats matched his own. Then he began kissing her again.
He stroked her back from her shoulders to her buttocks. Moving his left hand to her breast, he made the mound swell with heightened desire. He caressed her warm, quivering breasts, working his way to her waist. Suddenly, Laurens became aware that all her resistance had ceased. She was his. His to fuck.
"Make-a-flyer-out-of-you!" he whispered. "Do it!" she flung back.
Locked in each other's arms, they sank to their knees, twisting and swaying against each other. Mary pushed him to the floor and slid against him. She began kissing him. Kissing him everywhere. Her tongue tickled him, and he returned the treatment. He kissed her navel then her waist. When she opened for him, he went lower, inserting his tongue inside her drooling, delicious cunt-lips and stabbing for her clit. Suddenly he felt Mary's warm mouth close over his prick. The mouth was inexperienced, but he didn't care. He grasped her ass, squeezing the cheeks hard, while she held him just as firmly.
He ate her cunt until she kicked and arched and sobbed. A minute later, he, too, was churning and kicking. The pleasure of shooting into her mouth was so intense that he hardly knew what was happening to him.
His balls felt like a loaded cannon. His prick shot out the wads of his climax.
They rested for a few minutes. Then she grabbed for his cock greedily, at this point almost raping him. They began to fuck, their organs meshing together, their pants and grunts a cacophony of sounds that filled the room, almost drowning out the hum of the air-conditioner at the window.
Suddenly, in a voice that sounded as if she hated him, Mary said, "You beast! You've brought me this far. Now fuck me all the way."
He fucked her. Twice. And after the second fucking, he seemed to turn into a mindless beast. He thrashed and tossed, whipping her lithe young body around like a reed, until he had drained his balls.
Then he fell away from her, his breath a raspy attempt to wring oxygen from the stifling air. "When-do you want it?" he managed.
"Want what?" Mary stared at him in bewilderment. Now that her wits were returning, she looked angrily at him.
"The free flying lesson."
"Oh, that." She laughed. "Forget it. The wild blue's not my thing. I want you to do something else for me. Let me come to your next orgy."
"What?" Laurens could not, for the life of him, conceal his alarm. They usually made a great deal of noise at the parties, but he hadn't suspected anyone in their neighborhood of knowing a thing. If Mary had pieced together the truth, then he wondered who else might. "Now see here, I may go off the deep end at times, like now, but I don't-"
Mary laughed harder. "You're a scream, Mister Laurens. Let's quit playing games with one another. If I'm adult enough to be fucked, I'd be adult enough to be invited to one of your fuck parties. If you don't invite me, I'll tell my you-know-what's about you. How would you like that?"
He began to think. If I've got to keep her quiet and she really wants to come, why not? One more can't make any difference. "How do I know you're all right?"
"You know. Am I in?"
He relented. "Yes. The next one is Saturday night at eight. I'll let you in the back gate. You can wear a mask ... if you like."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mel Martin's first party was an experience he never forgot, partly because it almost didn't come off.
He arrived with Shan after dark, pulling up before a gate with some kind of automatic opener. She had to leave the car to press an intercom button before anyone would let them in. They drove through the gate and heard it close behind them.
Shan parked behind Hugh Laurens' new Eldorado and switched off the ignition of her car. She leaned over to kiss him on the ear. "This is it, love. If you want to bug out, do it now. After you're 'initiated', you can't leave. We have a lien on you for life. Get it?"
He hoped she was kidding, but he really didn't care if she wasn't. "I'm game." He climbed out with her and followed her through another gate, a wooden one, to a swimming pool and a dimly lit patio. There were almost a dozen people sprawled in lounge and deck chairs.
"There's Hugh," Shan said, walking over to meet him.
Mel held back, braced for the cool treatment to come, even an order that he leave. Laurens looked shocked when he saw who the "new boy" was, but he quickly recovered. "Welcome, Mel, welcome," he said, pressing a drink into his hand. "I'm glad to see you get around as well on terra firma as the wild blue," he added, smiling.
Mel wondered if Laurens was glad, or merely surprised. "Thanks, Hugh. I'm happy to be here." He took the drink and sat down to watch and listen. Until he learned the ropes, he realized, he might not be much use to anyone this first time.
At a quarter-past eight, the unexpected happened: it began to rain.
"Everyone inside to the master bedroom," Hugh Laurens shouted, leading the way.
Mel followed the pack around the pool and into the sleekly modern, sixteen-room ranch house. He estimated that the pad cost quite a bundle. There were lots of new arrivals now, and he was separated from Shan.
The first thing he saw when he entered the master bedroom was the bed-with Jennifer Laurens sitting up on the pink sheets at the head, a thick pile of pillows behind her. Six or eight men and women were standing around the bed. One couple was lying across the foot. Martin looked across the foot of the bed and straight into Jennifer's eyes.
She was beautiful, but he hadn't known how beautiful until now, because he had never before seen so much of her. She wore a sheer black negligee. The thin material concealed nothing. Her breasts were large, quite round, and jutting. Everything else was in perfect proportion. Jennifer's hair was long and a bright blonde, her eyes a deep blue. She smoked a cigarette in a shiny, ebony holder. Mel was unable to guess her age. She might have been in her early thirties or late forties. The range was almost limitless.
But the sight of the near-nude Jennifer wasn't what startled Martin. The shocker was the couple on the foot of the bed. They were naked. The woman, who lay on her back with an air of total, wanton abandon, was Roxie. He didn't recognize the man, who was stretched out with her, propped up on his hands. The two were exciting each other to the bursting point. One look and Mel saw that they were both wild with unfulfilled need.
And they were on the verge of doing something about it.
Roxie lay on her back. Her intake of breath was audible throughout the room as the man began to fuck her. Mel felt his prick swell with the most profound erection he had had in months.
Glancing about, as the pair began their lovemaking, he saw that he wasn't the only one who was excited. Every woman was hard-nippled and swollen-mouthed. Every man was in the same condition as Mel, and they didn't bother to hide the fact. Only Jennifer showed any degree of calm as she watched the wildly moving pair and smoked her cigarette.
The coital action didn't last long, because the lovers were too excited. Mel gazed at them as if he were hypnotized, just as the others in the room were doing. He felt that with any encouragement at all, he would force Shan, or one of the other women upon the bed, and fuck her alongside the other pair.
Roxie cried out and strained like an athlete. Seconds later her partner joined her. Martin felt long, sharp fingernails digging into his hand. Shan stood beside him. "
"Like to watch other people fucking?" she said in his ear.
He nodded, still at a loss for words.
By now the other people in the room were pairing off, baring their bodies and stimulating each other. One girl-he thought it was Ellen, the one he had invited-turned and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her mini-gown up over her breasts.
A man sprang to her, dropping his pants and inserting his prick into her cunt with a single move. Mel was about to do the same with Shan when Jennifer Laurens spoke:
"Everybody out! Everybody except Mel and Shan! Do your fucking somewhere else!"
The first pair sighed, then stood up. The audience hurried to the door as if it couldn't wait to start following the example just set. The second pair finished almost at once, and they, too, staggered toward the door. Then Roxie and her partner got to their feet to follow the pack. She saw Mel and she winked at him as she left.
Shan closed the door. Jennifer stared at Mel in silence for a moment, as if giving him a little time in which to regain his composure. Or perhaps she was only measuring his potential.
"I like to watch people fucking," she remarked. "Especially new people. But this isn't an initiation, not in the accepted sense. We have none of that here. Just try to enjoy yourself."
Mel didn't know how to answer. His excitement had done nothing to help him keep his wits. Fortunately, none seemed to be expected.
Jennifer patted the bed beside her. "Lie down here and be comfortable. Tell me about yourself. Everything."
Mel did as he was told. He stretched out beside the blonde woman, leaning on one elbow. Haltingly, he told her the story of his life. There wasn't a great deal to tell although he had done his share of living.
But he had a very hard time talking. His tongue was failing him. Shan had sat down on the bed, near his hips, and she proceeded to stroke his legs, his back, his chest, his balls and his prick. He couldn't regain his cool. He had never been through a session like this before in his life, and he wondered if what Shan was doing to him was purposely planned to dull his mind.
At one time Jennifer interrupted him. "Do you mind if Shan touches your cock, Mel?"
"No, no, of course not," he answered hesitantly.
"Do you like to have a woman like Shan play with your prick?"
"Certainly."
Jennifer smiled. "Give Mel some good loving, honey."
Shan laughed. Long, tapered fingers fluttered over his cock like bird's wings. His straining became so great that he could hardly finish telling about his war experiences.
"I think you'd better give Mel some relief now, Shan," Jennifer said.
Shan, obeying, rose up on her knees on the bed. Mel saw nothing but naked ivory female torso. He reached for Shan, stroked her, found her cunt to be ready.
She threw herself onto the foot of the bed not far from where Roxie had been, and he went after her.
"Hurry, fuck me!" she said, stretching her arms toward him. "Show me what you can do."
Mel paused, struck by the detached ease with which Jennifer viewed them both. Mrs. Laurens smiled slightly, as if she had mated them both and was inordinately pleased at the results.
"A gentleman never refuses a lady's reasonable request," his hostess reminded him. "Don't you feel Shan's request is reasonable?"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "But the circumstances...." He grinned in embarrassment.
"Are rather unreasonable?"
"Unusual, I should say. Or maybe it's just my first time."
"Please continue."
He went to the girl and impaled her cunt on his prick. He didn't care if Jennifer was watching, he didn't care who might watch. All he knew was that he had to have relief, he had to have fucking, he had to fuck Shan. He bent his back, grasped one of her buttocks, found a nipple to kiss, then fucked her furiously.
Shan pounded his bare back with her fists. "Mel! Mel!"
He hardly heard her call out. His climax lanced through him a second later. Whether because of his audience or his surroundings, his orgasm was glorious. If I'm going to be paid for this kind of work, he thought, then pay on.
The prospect of fucking for money and pleasure dazzled him.
CHAPTER NINE
Jennifer gave him plenty of time in which to recover. She told Shan that she could leave now, and, at her urging, Mel lay down beside her. She turned down the lights. He felt her leave the bed. Soon after that, she brought him a tall glass of fruit juice and some pills-vitamins, he supposed. Then she moved a cool, damp cloth refreshingly over his face and forehead.
He knew he was being prepared for something special.
She was sitting near his shoulders on the bed again, because he could smell the expensive perfume that she wore. "Back to life again?" she asked.
"I think so."
"Did you enjoy Shan?"
He smiled crookedly. "What man doesn't enjoy fucking an attractive woman?"
Jennifer laughed. "I should have known. But enough of her. Let's concentrate on us. Would you like me to dance for you?"
Martin was curious as to where all this was leading. "Would you?"
"I'd love to."
She got off the bed and went to the stereo, putting on a record. Jennifer smiled at him and began undressing, swaying to the music. She pulled off the negligee and tossed it onto an elegant sofa. She took off her underwear, doffing her panties and tossing them after the gown. Her bra followed the panties.
Martin had seen women disrobe before, but never one with more style or grace. He tingled all over, fearful that Hugh Laurens would come quietly up behind him at any moment and tell him to get to hell with the others. The rain had stopped.
But no one else appeared, so he stared his fill.
He marveled at Jennifer's figure. She had long, tapering legs and a waspish waist. Her hips and breasts were beautifully rounded, and her buttocks looked firm and sensuous. Her breasts were high and had a lot of thrust. Her nipples were large, engorged, perhaps, by what she had witnessed already this evening.
"Fortissimo," Mel exclaimed, although he wasn't exactly sure what it meant.
Jennifer laughed and began to dance to the music.
She knew how to dance. Every movement was fluid and sensuous. He found himself watching the flow of her shoulders and her legs, the rising and falling of her breasts, the rolling of her waist and waving of her buttocks with increasing eagerness. As the music went on, Jennifer used more and more movements suggestive of sensual action. She gave him beckoning looks.
"Do you like me, darling?" she asked finally, stopping to stare at him.
"Very much," he assured her.
She whirled to turn off the stereo. "That's good. That's very good. If you said you didn't like me, I don't think I could stand it."
Martin was more confused than ever. He watched her take off the record and put on a new one, this time slow, romantic dance music.
"Dance with me, Mel," she urged.
He rolled out of bed. He stood up, then went to her. Maybe she was toying with him, but he didn't care. He had had a certain amount of frustration with Shan, and now he found himself eager to fuck the supple, slender body which stood naked before him.
He took her in his arms, savoring every inch of her flesh: the feel of her back under his hand, the touch of her hips against his. He had seen and felt plenty of naked women. Like most men, he could occasionally look at one without being excited. But not now. Not tonight.
She swayed forward, pressing and rolling against him. She chuckled when she felt his erecting cock. "Do I affect you so?"
"Unavoidably," he managed, still half-expecting Hugh Laurens to enter the room and put a stop to the charade.
Jennifer seemed pleased. "A woman is always glad to know that she awakens a man's cock."
Still dancing with her, he put his hands on her back and stroked. His fingertips danced over her spine.
"How did you know I was so sensitive there?" she asked.
"Many women are," he murmured.
"Have you fucked many women?"
"None like you," he insisted, and he wasn't trying to be gallant, just truthful.
Jennifer bent away long enough to turn off the music. When she looked into his eyes this time, her intensity, the pure excitement in her voice, astonished him. "I want you to make love to me, to fuck me. I want you to handle my breasts and kiss my mouth and love my cunt. Everywhere! I want you to make me more alive than I've ever been. I want your hands and your mouth for every square inch of my body. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he said.
"And I want you to fuck me as many times as you can. Fuck me every way you can. Every way a man can fuck a woman. And when you can't fuck any longer, do other things for me. Will you?"
"I will," he assured her.
"I'll do the same for you, of course. Everything. I'll help you keep hard and erect."
She was already gasping from his love play, and he felt his prick drawn as taut as a bowstring.
"Oh, we're going to have a night, darling," she whispered. "A night like no one else ever had before."
Mel carried her to the bed. Then, as she leaned back in his arms, he commenced to give her the kind of fucking that he knew she wanted, the kind that he wanted so badly to give her. As he kissed her breasts and gave fever to the most sensitive surface of her legs, he reminded himself that he must always exercise a degree of control, always hold back and conserve what power he could, in order to give her more prick than she had ever had before in a single night. The instructions were clear.
He sent wave after wave of fire through her fevered flesh, and she did all she could to make him a lust-crazed beast. He caressed her, kissed her, tantalized her, put a wildness into her that had to come out any way it could. Her response made his nerves go mad with delight. He stopped at nothing in adding to their pleasure, and neither did she.
He was the one who begged first:
"Please-you've got to let me-now! I-can't-wait-any-longer!"
"Yes, darling, but wait a minute. Rest."
They lay still. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. For an instant he was afraid. He had heard stories of men being excited past the point of no return, their blood pressures and pulse rates never subsiding until they literally died of sexual shock. He hoped that they were only stories.
He reached out for her once more. She rolled over and waited for him as he entered her cunt again, very gently this time, for his sake as well as hers. Then she was all fury again, loving fury, giving and taking, until her arms tightened as she soared to the heights. Still he continued fucking her, fucking harder, until the dam burst and the ecstasy rushed through the both of them.
And they began again.
Nothing was hidden, nothing was held back, nothing was barred. Kisses traveled over chest and breast, legs and hips. They explored each other's bodies. And time after time they acted together, bringing their lovemaking to a shattering finale.
Once she even kneeled astride him, dangled her breasts over his chest, and brought them to the most vigorous climax of all. Mel was positive that he heard a whirring sound then, but he couldn't place it. The whirring promptly faded, as though someone had squelched it. He began to wonder.
When the hall clock struck twelve times, they lay spent in each other's arms. He honestly didn't know how many times he had fucked her. Six, possibly seven. And she must have had at least a dozen climaxes, probably many more.
After they had lain in silence for a long time, she told him what he already suspected: everything they had done was now on film, safely inside Hugh Laurens' movie camera which had been shooting through a slot in the wall over the bed. The slot was partially concealed by a wreath of artificial flowers.
"Was that the whole shtick?" Mel asked, disappointed and a little hurt.
Jenninfer patted his cheek. "No. I really did enjoy it. So don't feel bad."
He realized that he had been initiated after all. He was now a professional party boy of one night's standing.
He still had a lot to learn.
CHAPTER TEN
The days added up into weeks, then the weeks into months. Mel was finding it more and more difficult to lead a double life. One part of him had to keep up the pretense of his new-and fictitious-job as the night air-traffic controller. The job justified the many hours that he spent at the many parties Hugh Laurens threw beside the pool of his sixteen-room ranch home, parties where Mel and everyone else were passed around like so many footballs.
The other part of him was the man who lied to his wife, who was nervous and irritable. Who never got enough rest. And who was never fired at Airways Flying Service, no matter how late he dragged in. He knew he had a job there for as long as he wanted it-provided he cooperated by putting out whenever Hugh and Jennifer Laurens asked him to.
The stress finally began to get to him. He frightened an advanced student one morning by flying too low above a power station, so low their radio reception vanished in a din of static. Mel had inadvertently pressed in on the control wheel.
"Christ, man, watch it!"
Furious with himself, Mel pulled them up again. "It's okay, Mister Traylor. I won't be that careless again. I don't know what came over me."
"Neither do I," Traylor snapped. He was a businessman in his mid-fifties who was out to win a twin-engine rating by the end of the summer. "I think you'd better take us in. I'm ready to start soloing, anyway, regardless of what you feel."
The customer was always right, so Mel shrugged and pointed the Cessna back toward the field. He set the twin down roughly, further irritating Traylor, suspecting that he would complain to Laurens regardless. He was right. While he was filling out a flight report, Cynthia, Laurens' new secretary, came looking for him.
"Boss wants to see you," she said.
He glared at her, which required an effort, because she was a pretty redhead just six weeks out of secretarial school. "About what?"
Cynthia's shoulders lifted. "He didn't say. But I think it's important."
"Being you, you would think that," he observed. "Tell him I'll be there in a minute." He watched the girl walk gracefully away, then wondered why he didn't make a play for her. Then he knew that Hugh Laurens would have his head on a platter if he did.
He finished the flight report and stalked into Laurens' office. "You wanted to see me?"
The president and chief stockholder of Airways Flying Service glanced at his secretary. "Yes. Will you leave us for a moment, my dear?"
Cynthia, with a sympathetic smile for Mel, went out and closed the door behind her. She could still overhear, however, if she chose to. The door between the outer office and Laurens' inner sanctum was a thin one.
Laurens switched off the intercom and removed his phone from its cradle. "Is it the parties, Mel?" he asked quietly. "Is it?"
"No, of course not," Mel retorted. "Hell, I got careless once and nearly piled up. It won't happen again, I swear. I won't louse up the safety record."
Laurens sighed. "I wish I could believe you, Mel. I can't. You have a conflict over the parties, and it's affecting your work. I should either fire you or forbid you to come to the parties again. Because I like you, I shall do neither. I just want you to take the rest of the day off and think about both. If you feel you should give up one or the other, the choice is yours. Do you understand?"
Mel stared at him. "Yes."
"You can go now."
Mel went out, feeling better. At least he had wangled a few free hours out of the old tyrant. He studied his watch. A quarter till eleven. He could either drive straight home and try to shore up his crumbling marriage, or he could call Shan and ... He caught Cynthia's eye as he passed, and smiled at her. A third voice had suggested itself.
He went to find his car, driving it to the front gate. When Cynthia came out at eleven to go to lunch, he stopped her. "Get in," he invited, patting the Chevy's passenger seat.
She looked surprised. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Or has old Laurens declared you private property and off limits to the hired help?"
The redhead's eyes flashed. "No one's ever declared me private property, and don't you forget it." She got in.
Mel drove them toward a little restaurant near the beach. "Know what we could do?" he asked. "But no, you'd never have the nerve."
"Tell me," she demanded.
"I could take you by your place after lunch, you could phone in with a migraine, and we two could hit the sun for the afternoon."
Cynthia was silent, mulling the proposition over.
"Well?"
"You could get me fired, but-all right. I know he dressed you down. Is this your way of getting even?"
"Partly," he admitted. "But I like you for yourself, too," he added. "I think you're one swell girl. I'd like to know you better."
"And your wife?" she reminded, pointing at his ring.
"We're splitting soon," he lied, and then asked himself if it was a lie. If he and Donna became any more distant with one another, they would be writing letters to each other rather than conversing. Their relationship had deteriorated that far.
"You're on. And you help me find a new job if I lose this one."
"I'll do what I can, if it comes to that," he promised. But he knew he would have enough trouble finding a new job for himself. There was another flying service in town, but they would be certain to know about him.
He forced himself not to think about the future, which was cloudy, or the past, which was tawdry. Instead, he and Cynthia dwelt on the present. By half-past twelve, they lay on blankets under a broiling sun, their particular stretch of beach deserted for a mile in either direction.
After an hour, they reached the stage where they would neck after a swim. Or before. Cynthia proved to be an amateur kisser, but he soon fixed that. She mastered his lessons quickly, and it wasn't long before she could really kiss the way a man wanted. Now he figured she was ready for an out-and-out sexual pass.
They sat on the sand and kissed for a few minutes before he made his first serious move. French-kissing had heated her to the point where she was beginning to squirm around a little, so he placed a hand over one of her breasts and cupped it, squeezing gently. She twisted even more wildly for a few seconds, while he tenderly massaged her tit. She broke free of the kiss.
"We'd better stop, Mel," she protested. "We don't want to get carried away. I like you and everything, but we can't do that."
"Good," he approved, continuing to play with her big tit. He slid his hand under the top of her bathing suit and felt for the first time the silky warmth of her flesh. She panted as his fingers reached the erected nipple and began toying with it. "I'm glad you're excited. I want you to be excited. Very, very excited."
"No! It's wrong!"
"It's right," Martin murmured, nuzzling her throat and feeling her breast, to his relief, shudder with excitement. "We can do anything we want because we're adults. And I want you. Don't you want me?"
"But you don't understand," Cynthia groaned, trying to push him away. "I've never gone all the way. I'm a-a virgin!"
Mel was astonished. He couldn't have been more surprised than if she had told him that she flew with Doolittle's Raiders.
"Okay, so you're cherry. What of it?" He pulled her breast free of her suit top, caressing it more skillfully. "That doesn't change the way I feel about you."
"You mean-?"
"I want to be the first to love you." He bent his head and closed his lips around her engorged nipple in a kissing motion which quickly turned to suckling. Cynthia moaned and began to stroke the back of his head and neck. Mel realized that she had given her consent. He quit nursing on her breasts long enough to undress what little of her was still covered, dropping his own trunks at the same time. His prick stood up long and hard. He lay down beside her and ran his hands over her nude body, marveling at the firmness of her flesh, the warmth of her body. She began to tremble.
"What are you doing? Mel, what in heaven's name are you doing?"
"You'll see." He pushed her thighs apart and wormed his face between them. His mouth found the delicate lips slitting her pubic mound. His tongue began wetly fondling her cunt. Cynthia whimpered deep in her throat, writhing around in response to sensations that she had probably never experienced before.
"Oh, my God, Mel, that's driving me right out of my mind! Don't stop! Please don't stop!"
He increased the biting and the tonguing, heard her words dissolve into a babble of enjoyment-meaningless sounds that expressed the sheer delight that she felt as his darting tongue and urgent mouth opened new vistas for her.
They reached the point where she was helplessly tossing and turning with pleasure. Mel changed positions, placing himself between her parted legs and aiming his cock straight into the moistened valley beneath her tangled mat of pubic hair. Cynthia had closed her eyes. She seemed only vaguely aware of what he was doing now. But her legs lifted wide and high, in an instinctive gesture of surrender.
Gingerly, he pushed his cock against the velvety, slippery, wet cunt-lips, felt its stiffness slowly penetrate into the oozing warmth. She cried out once as he forced the throbbing meat past her hymen, breaking it for all time. Now he was in, where he wanted to be, and she was no longer a virgin. He lay still, giving her time to recover from the shock.
"I-can feel you inside me," she whispered. "So big and hard, it's-it's-"
"That's the way it's supposed to be," he comforted. "Don't worry. You'll like fucking." He hoped so. Otherwise, he would never get his prick back into her cunt again.
She had yet to scream at him to stop, so he began thrusting his prick into her depths and withdrawing it to its head, keeping the coital motions easy and unhurried. She grunted involuntarily each time that he drove his cock inward, and she sighed each time he pulled it out again. He was fighting, by now, to keep control. Cynthia's cunt was tight and hot, and his gun had been ready to go off the moment he laid a hand on her. But he managed to hold himself in check. He wanted, if possible, to bring her off first, to insure that her first fuck would be a totally complete one. His motive, he would have been the first to confess, was purely selfish; if a man didn't make a girl happy the first time he got into her cunt, he'd have the devil's own time getting invited back again.
Finally Cynthia stiffened, her abrupt tension a sure sign that she was getting ready to come. Her gaspings became louder and more drawn out. Then she exploded into a frenzied convulsion of movement, wrapping her legs tightly around him, seizing him around the neck so that he could hardly breathe, uttering sharp cries of pleasure as she climaxed for the first time.
Then she slumped back, temporarily sated. Only now did Mel dare let go. He rammed his prick into her in a rapid series of thrusts that brought his cum spurting in satisfying spasms of release. He was satisfied that his load had been delivered He collapsed, too, beside her, certain that she hadn't been disappointed.
Certain, as well, that he hadn't solved anything. His "problem" was still with him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Suspicions nagged at Donna. Mel had paid up the back bills. He had bought her some new clothes, himself a fine set of golf clubs, and he always seemed to have plenty of money. He told her that the traffic controller's job paid well and that he was gradually learning his duties. But he was continually making excuses for not having sex with her.
Even during their most violent quarrels in the past, they would always end up fucking-then patching things up. This time was different.
Donna knew that Mel was a passionate man. If he wasn't fucking his wife, then who was taking care of his cock?
She asked herself this as she walked out of the apartment one afternoon, attired in a one-piece swimsuit that was backless down to the start of her buttock crease. The suit was canary yellow and it complemented her dark-brown hair.
Mel had bought it for her birthday.
Donna had thrown a terry-cloth beach towel over her shoulders. She walked down the hall and took the self-service elevator to the first floor. It had been a stifling hot day, and now it was still scorching at late afternoon. She decided that a swim would be refreshing.
When she reached the pool, though, it was crowded and noisy. Laughter and squeals from tenants of all ages, male and female, echoed through the courtyard. The pool couldn't be seen from the street.
Donna walked over to the most private place that she could find at the far end of the courtyard.
She spread the towel and sat down, lighting a cigarette and glancing about. She saw two people she knew.
One of them, Steve Kramer, an ex-policeman in the process of establishing his own private detective agency, had spotted her, too. He climbed out of the pool and started toward her. Unknown to Mel, he had been trying to date her for weeks. She had told him about her marriage troubles, and he had listened without comment, particularly to the part about Mel not being interested in her any more. But he hadn't been able to talk her into cheating on Mel.
When he reached Donna, Kramer sat down beside her. Water dripped off his tanned, hard body. Kramer was tall and had straight black hair, long sideburns, and brooding, inscrutable features. He was looking at her strangely and smiling sympathetically.
Donna wondered about that look.
"How's the flying widow today?" he inquired. He removed a pack of cigarettes from a waterproof pocket in his swimming trunks. Leaning over and taking her cigarette from her mouth, he used it to light his own. His eyes penetrated hers, a yearning desire in their depths.
She let him know, with a look, that she didn't appreciate his humor.
Kramer cleared his throat. "I don't mean to pry, but did Mel come in today? Or did he go straight to that new 'job' of his?"
Donna expelled a huge cloud of smoke. She forced herself to speak calmly. "Are you trying to insinuate that Mel goes somewhere other than to work every night, Steve? Are you?"
Kramer started to say something, then seemed to think better of it.
Tears filled Donna's eyes. Not wanting him to see them, she crushed out her cigarette on the concrete, then jumped up to kick off her things and run to the edge of the pool. She dove into the cool water, took a short swim, then returned to Steve. But she was sick with worry. Mel had left the night before at five o'clock, and she hadn't seen or heard from him since. She could no longer defend him and keep up the pretense that she didn't believe the things that Steve told her.
"You know I'm concerned about you, honey," Kramer said softly. "We've been friends of a sort, and I hate to see you like this. Why don't you come up to my apartment for a drink? I'd love to have you."
She shook her head. "If Mel's been true to me, I want to be true to him. Being alone in a man's apartment, drinking with him, might lead to something I'd be sorry for later."
Kramer's eyes narrowed. "And if he hasn't been? What then?"
"I guess ... I wouldn't care any more," she faltered. She wished Steve would tell her what he knew, if he knew anything.
"I don't understand you, Donna," Kramer commented. "You're miserable. Eating your heart out. Yet, you won't face the problem. All you have to do it make a phone call or two, and you'd find out if Mel's telling the truth or not. How about it?"
Donna felt as if she were suffocating. "I can't do that. He's warned me about interfering with his job. He means it."
Kramer snorted. "Then if you can't, what about my making the calls? I could say I'm with a credit bureau if things get sticky. Want to give it a try?"
Donna hesitated. She was getting desperate enough to try anything. She didn't want to lose Mel. But if he had found someone else, he would probably want a divorce soon. She didn't know if she could take that. "If you don't involve me directly."
Kramer sat up on the blanket. "Where is Mel supposed to be right now? You must have some idea."
She had to think. He had told her twice, but so fast the words came back with difficulty. "Room L at the Air Traffic Control Center."
"Then let's go up to my apartment and find out."
"All right," Donna said, then bit her lip.
She hoped she was doing the right thing as Steve helped her up, scooped the towel off the concrete, then draped it about her shoulders. They left the pool together and took the elevator up to the fifth floor, Steve's floor. His apartment was right across the hall. Donna waited until he had unlocked it, then she followed him inside. The apartment had one large room, the largest piece of furniture of which was a studio couch, a small bar, a kitchenette, and a stall shower. Through one window there was a view of the park across the street.
Kramer went over to the bar and Donna, apologizing for still being damp, sat down on the studio couch. She inhaled deeply on a half-smoked cigarette and watched as he mixed two whiskey sours. Kramer reached behind the bar and removed some ice cubes. When he had dropped a couple in each glass, he took them over to the couch and handed her one. He sat down beside her, although not too near.
"What was that address again?"
"Room L, Tower Operations. It should be in the directory."
He put his drink down and went to dial. The call went through swiftly enough. "Hello? I'd like to speak with a Mister Mel Martin. Yes, I said Mel Martin. He's one of your traffic controllers for the night division. What's that?" Kramer glanced at Donna. "Please check your files. I want to be sure."
Donna's heart sank. She gathered from the conversation that no one at either the tower or Room L had ever heard of Mel Martin. And she saw from Kramer's expression that he wasn't surprised. She wanted to cry, only she owed it to herself-and Steve-not to.
"I see. Well, I guess there's been some mistake. Yes, I'm sorry, too. Thank you for your trouble. Good-bye." Kramer hung up. He looked at her. "Donna, baby, I have something to tell you. Do you want to hear it?"
Her lips were trembling, but she nodded. She really did want to hear it, even if it blew her marriage to bits.
"About a week ago, to satisfy my own curiosity, I tailed Mel when he drove away from here. He went straight to the apartment of a girl named Shannon Hartgrave. I saw the name on the plate downstairs. She's a department-store buyer and quite beautiful. I got a glimpse of her twice. I asked around about her and-well, it's a sordid story. Shall I call there and see if we uncover you-know-who?"
Donna nodded in grim determination. "Please do."
Kramer thumbed through the directory until he found Shan Hartgrave's number. He dialed it.
After two rings, Shan answered the phone. She and Mel had just taken a shower together. They were sitting nude on the divan, sharing a bottle of vodka. They had been drinking most of the day. "Hello," she said in a thick voice.
"Hello. Is this Shan?" someone asked.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Oh, you wouldn't remember me. We met some time ago at a party. You gave me your number."
Shan was too drunk and too confused to remember. "I meet a lot of guys at parties. Was it the Laurens'?"
"Yes," the caller said quickly. "Remember me now?"
Shan hesitated, trying to think. Something about the call didn't add up, but she couldn't decide what. "You sound like Tony," she said doubtfully.
"That's me. What are you doing tonight?"
"I have a date. You know Mel, don't you?"
The caller paused. "I think I do. Which one is he?"
"That big handsome stud Mrs. Laurens likes so well. He's turned out to be the most popular party boy I've ever taken there."
"I know him all right. Can't you call him and cancel the date?"
Shan laughed. "I don't have to call. He's here now, sitting next to me."
Mel looked up with a start. "Who in Christ's name is that?"
She turned and placed a finger to her lips. "I'm busy now, Tony," she said into the phone. "You know. Busy with a prick."
Martin stumbled over to take the phone out of her hand. "Yeah, and she prefers my prick, pal!" he shouted. "Go fuck some other chick!"
Shan wrenched the phone back again, glaring at Mel. "I'm sorry, Tony. Don't pay any attention to him. I'll see you at the Laurens' Saturday night. Okay?"
"Is the party going to be at the beach?"
A strange look crossed Shan's face. "No. At their home in Nelson's Estates. Say, are you sure you're Tony?"
"Yes, of course. I just wasn't thinking. What time do you expect to arrive?"
"The usual time. Around eight."
Mel put his arms around Shan. "Come on, baby, hang up on him. I'm ready for some hot fucking."
"Good-bye, Tony," Shan said. "I'll see you Saturday night."
Kramer put the phone down. When he looked at Donna, he saw that her face was flushed with anger. "Sorry, baby, but now you've heard for yourself."
"That son-of-a-bitch!" She clenched her hands into fists. "If he were here now, I'd black both his eyes. He'd never hurt me again."
Kramer nodded. "He's a no-good bastard as well. You wouldn't know what a party boy is, but I do. I've been approached for that kind of work myself."
Donna grimaced. "No, I'm afraid I don't know exactly. You'll have to tell me."
He shrugged. "What's to tell? It's like being a male prostitute. Wealthy people throw parties, and the young men they hire perform sexually.
Sometimes there are prominent people as guests, and pictures are taken. Then blackmail's the name of the game."
She stared at him. "I can't believe Mel would do anything like that!"
"Has he seemed to have more money lately?"
"Yes. Lots of it."
"Then doesn't it follow?"
Donna sagged to the couch. "Fix me another drink, please. A stiff one."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kramer sat down beside Donna on the studio couch. He handed her the whiskey sour. As she drank half of it, he downed a good part of his own, then he set his glass next to hers on the coffee table.
Steve figured that she was probably ripe for the taking now. Yet he hesitated. Then his arms went around her waist. He slowly pulled her closer. His lips caressed hers as he gazed into her eyes. "You know what I want, and I know what I want. If you don't want it, too, say so," he advised. "I don't want you to be sorry later."
Donna bit her lip. "I'm finished with Mel. I mean it. I'll never let him touch me again. I thought it was love, when it was only a handsome face and a beautiful body. I built love around him. I can see now that I'm not glamorous enough for him. He's outgrown me."
"I'd never outgrow you," Kramer declared. "You're lovely. Mel should have his head examined. I only wish I'd been the first one."
She shook her head. "Mel wasn't the first one, either. I ran around with a lot of men before I met him. I'm not an angel, but I've never cheated on him."
"You don't have to tell me that. I know you're a straight girl."
Donna laughed defiantly. "Well, I'm not going to be any more. I'm going to start living for a change."
"That's the spirit, honey. Let yourself go." Kramer bent to kiss her again. This time the kiss wasn't casual. He used more pressure. Then she was letting her mouth relax and her arms wound around his neck. He let his tongue explore her mouth as his hands ran up and down her mooth, bare back. He could feel her breasts tremble against his chest. He knew she was turning on.
She pulled her mouth away from his. "You won't think I'm a tramp, will you?"
"Never, darling," he assured her. "I'm not taking you lightly."
"Oh, Steve, you're so sweet," she sighed.
He fumbled with the catch on her low-cut suit, then he pulled it down. He pushed her back on the couch and worked the damp suit over her legs. When he took away the thongs, she wriggled her toes in pleasure.
Kramer let his eyes roam over her body. Then he stood up and stripped off his bathing trunks. His hard prick sprang forward. The engorgement of his cock showed the effects of a week's deprivation. He picked up her suit and placed it on a chair with his own.
Donna leaned over and picked up her drink. She finished it in one gulp and set the empty glass back on the table. She seemed to be feeling the two whiskey sours now. Her face was flushed and her breathing rapid.
She held out her arms and Kramet went into them, lowering himself over her warm body. His mouth covered hers and locked, his tongue darting out and meeting hers. They kissed hungrily, their arms and legs soon becoming entangled on the couch.
He left her mouth and went to her breasts. He mouthed her nipples utnil they grew rigid with desire. Leaving her luscious mounds, he went down to her flat stomach and tongued the soft flesh no between her navel and her cunt. His hands stroked her body and fingered her cunt, finding it slippery and ready for him.
He moved up again and kissed her. As they kissed, he opened her legs with his knees, then crawled between them.
Donna reached down and took his swollen cock in her hand, steering it toward her ready cunt. He pushed his prick inside her for the first time. The heat of her passion was sizzling. Kramer could almost feel it burning his skin. He moved slowly in and out, in and out, pausing to kiss her again.
She raised her legs higher and wound them around his back. He could feel her inner cunt muscles twitch. A glorious feeling coursed through him. He suspected that she had been without cock for weeks-ever since Mel began hiring himself out. It had built up in her. She let go, and Kramer, feeling her secretions flood over his prick, started to climax, too. They ended up together in a rush of feeling.
He held her afterward, kissing her tenderly. For the first time in his life, he was overcome with emotion. Women usually didn't affect him this way. Donna did. She was so young, so trusting. "Thank you, darling," he said. "You were wonderful."
He got up and went into the bathroom. When he came out, she had fixed another round of drinks. Kramer grinned. "Wow. Having sex with you is something else. Your eyes are shining and your hair's mussed."
"You've made me feel like a woman again," she said, relaxed for the first time since he had known her.
"You are a woman. A gorgeous little woman. I can never get enough of you," he assured her.
She went into the bathroom. After a minute, she stuck her head out the door. "Would you like to take a shower with me, Steve, honey?"
He jumped up to answer the invitation. "Would I! But you'll have to scrub my back."
"I'll scrub you all over."
He went back to fetch their drinks, then he joined her, stepping inside the stall with her and adjusting the water to the right temperature. They stood close together and drank, letting the spray cascade over their bodies.
When she finished her drink, Donna reached up and twisted the shower nozzle at an angle. Now the spray hit the side of the stall. She found a sponge and a bar of soap. "Turn around," she ordered.
Kramer turned, and she began lathering his back. When she reached his legs, she moved directly to the front of his thighs-covering his prick and balls with foamy suds. Then she dropped the sponge and let her fingers take over, massaging gently.
The feathery touch of her hands soon gave him another hard-on. He bent to retrieve the sponge, then turned around and took the soap from her hand. "Now you." He began applying white lather to her breasts, her stomach, down between her legs. As soon as she was covered with it, he put the soap and sponge in a tray and his arms went around her waist.
Her arms wound around his neck and their mouths met in a fiery kiss.
His prick rubbed between her thighs, slipping back and forth as she squeezed her legs together. The suds prevented their doing more than thinking about fucking. When they were clean again, he shut the spray off. They stepped out on a large, fluffy bath mat.
Kramer grabbed a towel, intending to dry her first, then himself. He didn't quite make it. Donna was holding on to him to keep from falling down. Her legs seemed to have gone out, probably because of the many drinks she had consumed. "Here!" she gasped. "Let's fuck right here!"
He fell to the mat with her. He had no choice. She had become wild, unmanageable. She grasped between his legs and cupped his hard cock in her hands, guiding it to her mouth.
"That's it," he encouraged, shaking with excitement. He hadn't expected her to give head so soon. He leaned against the shower stall and, in the crowded quarters, tried to get comfortable. Then he seized her wet head and pulled her down on him.
Donna ate his prick with fervor and enthusiasm, if not pure skill. His soap-scented flesh felt smooth to her lips and sweet-smelling to her nostrils. Even his balls smelled fresh and appetizing. She went from his cock to his balls, then back again.
Kramer had the sudden desire to get his face in her cunt, only there wasn't enough room in the tiny bathroom.
He scrambled up, pulled her to her feet, then gathered her up in his arms and carried her back to the studio couch. Their bodies were dripping wet, but he didn't care. They would dry soon enough.
He worked her into an opposite position and dropped between her sweet, clean thighs.
Her mouth found his cock again and together they licked and sucked each other to new heights of excitement. Their bodies thrilled at every nerve center, and neither cared that Mel might suddenly walk in on them.
Donna had wanted to love him, he knew, but he doubted that she would have gone this far without the alcohol. This was the first time she had ever let herself go completely, drunk or sober. When she felt the warmness of his sperm filling her mouth, she continued to suck until she had taken it all. Her cheeks ballooned. She swallowed greedily in noisy, slurping gulps.
As soon as he had come, Kramer used his tongue and teeth to apply more pressure on the hot folds of her cunt. She climaxed. He could feel her thighs tossing involuntarily about his head, her toes curling in ecstasy. Moans of pleasure escaped her throat. She cried out his name.
When their trembling bodies had calmed down, they went to sleep, without changing positions. Their heads were still facing the other's sex organs.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I don't like it, Hugh," Jennifer Laurens murmured. "I don't like it at all. Mel works for you, yet we know so little about him. Can he be trusted? Shan shouldn't have brought him in." Jennifer raised her drink to her lips.
Hugh Laurens smiled without humor. "Come off it, Jenny. You like him. Like that meat of his, anyway. Think I haven't seen the way you eat him up? Don't worry. He's okay."
Jennifer looked critically at her fingernails. "How do you know? And why hasn't he brought his wife? If she doesn't know, that could be dynamite. I don't want to end up in some scandal sheet. Do you?"
"No," Laurens admitted, picturing the lurid headlines and the equally lurid pictures. Christ! I can be worse than ruined.
"And those horrible movies you've been making." Jennifer shuddered. "If they fell into the wrong hands, I'd die. I'd simply die. I wish you'd at least buy a safe to keep them in."
Laurens laughed and began mixing himself another drink. "We'll sell those someday, and make a fortune. All the 'stars' will be anxious to pay. They'll scream, of course, but who's going to hear them?"
"Sometimes I wonder about you, Hugh," Jennifer remarked. "Why can't you be like me? I like the parties for their own sake. I don't want to hurt the people-or blackmail them."
"So do I. It's a reflex action, I suppose. I like to protect myself and spice things up at the same time. This is the best way."
Jennifer yawned into her glass. "I'm not so sure. Fill mine again, will you?"
He filled hers and handed it back, eyeing her lush body. He wondered why he should ever want to look at another woman. Jennifer really should have been all he needed. Only she stirred conflicting emotions in him. Sometimes he was sure he hated her. On occasion, he even felt like killing her. A couple of nights back, he almost had. "I love you, baby," he said softly, to see how she would react.
"I love you, too," she returned. But her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
He sat up straight on the sofa. "Then what caused the big scene the other night? You certainly weren't acting like the loving wife then."
"What caused it?" She spun around to face him. "You were brutal and nasty, that's what caused it! A woman wants something more!"
Laurens stared at her, hearing the hate in her voice for the first time. He responded with anger that he was barely able to conceal. "Brutal and nasty?"
"You were disgusting!"
"You never thought so before," he reminded her.
"You never treated me like that before." Jennifer downed her drink defiantly.
They were starting another one, he realized. Another knock-down-drag-out. And he wasn't ready to fight with her. Not yet. "So I wanted you and you didn't want me. Hell, I told you I was sorry. Anyway, isn't that what marriage is all about? Isn't it? A man and a woman? Fucking?"
"No!" she flung at him. "There's more. Much .more. Loyalty, for. example. Being around when someone needs you. Giving, Loving. Sharing. Sharing the same goals." She reached for more vermouth. "Exactly what do we share, Hugh? Other than a too-frequent tendency to go for each other's throats?"
"We share a lot, and you know it." He left the sofa and went to her. "Come on, baby, let's ease off on the static. Life is too short. Too goddamned short. I want to love you tonight, not fight." He slid an arm around her, tried to draw her close. She resisted, then let herself be embraced, to be pulled closer until he felt the pressure of her breasts against his chest.
"We're good together, admit it." Laurens heard his own voice in wonderment. He hadn't known before that he could charm someone so completely, disguise his real feelings so thoroughly. He hated this woman, yet she would never know it until he told her. He might never.
"Yes. Kiss me."
He kissed her. There was a mixture of fascination and loathing in his passion. He was unlike his usual self. Thoughts of Jennifer with Mel Martin-and other men-fanned the fires of jealousy, stoking him to fever pitch. At the same time his sexual need made his rod thrust hard against his pants. He began to plan.
First he would play her whoring body like a fine instrument, drawing out the feeling for both of them and making it last for hours. Then, when they were sated, when they had stopped for drinks or to catch their breaths, he would lower the boom. He would ask for the divorce that he had wanted for so long.
He ran a hand up between them until his fingers found her blouse. His fingers fell upon her full, supple breasts. "I've always loved you," he whispered in her ear. He made the words, with an effort, sound normal. "Will you always love me? Will you?"
She hesitated, then her lips covered his. He didn't have time to consider the full implications and meaning of her failure to answer.
Their bodies came together more intimately. He held her head and crushed his lips against hers. The first kiss was tentative, then passionate, as their mouths opened and their tongues met.
Memories of all their years together, all the times they had aroused one another this way, swelled to torment him.
Laurens worked furiously on Jennifer's tongue, drawing it deeply into his mouth. Before marriage, they had spent hours kissing and hugging. Now it was just minutes. Their responses were too fast.
He slipped his left hand up under her blouse, around to her back until he found her bra hook. He managed to unclasp it without letting go of her. Seconds later, he had disposed of her bra. He cupped her naked breasts, squeezing, fondling. He used his thumb and forefinger to pinch her nipple. Jennifer writhed, nursing more thirstily on his tongue.
Yes, she was ready for him. Or soon would be. He hadn't expected it to happen so easily. After their near brawl of the other night-and the near repeat of a few minutes before-he had anticipated resistance, lots of it. A long buildup during which he would coax, promise and cajole. Instead, she had dropped into his waiting arms like a ripe plum. Soon she would be ready to be enjoyed.
The nipples of her breasts had turned rigid against his palms. He wanted to take time out to kiss them, only she had imprisoned his tongue within her mouth and showed no inclination to let him go. Between them, his shaft had become an iron-hard tool.
Finally-it might have been minutes, it might have been an hour or more-they moved to the sofa. His hips moved between Jennifer's thighs. She began to twist and grind beneath him, even caressed his hard-on against the moistness of her cunt. He kissed and tongued her breasts and nipples, moving from one to the other, then back again. In forty-six years, a man learned a lot. Jennifer's moans of pleasure seemed real. Real or not, they drove him on to greater efforts, to greater heights of pleasure.
Let's make the last one the best one, Jennifer. then took it into his mouth, to stimulate her breasts even more.
Jennifer sobbed, gasping, surging up to offer him her other breast. He accepted gladly, giving her other breast as much attention as he had given the first. His hands glided down between them until he reached her pubic mount. He kneaded the area until she begged him to stop.
He wanted to get naked, to feel her bare flesh against his. If he didn't sample all she had to offer this last time, he knew that he would never forgive himself. Hurriedly, he lifted her skirt, dragging her panties down to expose the lush growth of pubic hair between her legs. She opened his fly and searched for his prick. There was something about the alertness of her reaction that startled and, in a vague way, pleased him. He was even more pleased by the way her fingers squeezed around his hard-on.
Because he knew she wanted him to, he lay down beside her so that she could more easily caress him while he did the same for her. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her this last time. Nothing. While she held his prick, he vigorously massaged her cunt-lips, caressing and squeezing her thighs at the same time. Imaginging other men doing this for her made him try harder to thrill her. Once upon a time Jennifer could be brought to climax by this method alone. Tonight, too, he hoped.
After a minute, she cried out, pumping faster on his shaft.
That's one for old times' sake, darling!
He tried again to make her come, thrusting a tongue into her cunt, parting the lips and biting gently. Thighs hugging his neck, she begged him to keep it up. In motion with his tonguing, she palmed his prick. Gave it, in his opinion, a good workout.
Too good a workout. He sprang up to fuck her. She moved onto her back and opened her pussy wide for him. Airways Flying Service and his newest pilot seemed a world away at that moment. Laurens thrust his prick inside the woman he no longer wanted, who, in all probability, no longer wanted him. Her cunt swallowed him up.
Then he was churning, not waiting for her. He realized that neither of them wanted to wait. Nor did he care, at this point, about her needs. His climax approached, and his prick tensed, swelling inside her, discharging lustily. No sooner had he spilled the last spasm of sperm inside her than he withdrew, so quickly that she couldn't stop him.
Jennifer reached for his cock, still frantic with desire. "Hugh, pleasel I'll make it hard!"
He laughed and shook his head. "No. Never again. I won't let you."
"What?"
"We're through," he informed her. "I'm seeing a lawyer tomorrow. I want a divorce."
"No!" Jennifer stared at him incredulously. "Hugh, you can't be serious! A divorce? Why?"
"I am serious," he assured her, looking for his pants. "I've had enough. Enough of you, enough of marriage. I want to be free again."
"But-we had so much going for us," she stammered. "The parties-"
"The parties are nothing!" he shouted at her. "Nothing! Do you hear? I can do without them, too. I have enough films."
"Enough?" Jennifer's face whitened.
He grinned. "You know what I mean. There isn't a stag outfit in the country that wouldn't pay plenty for each one I have. And I must have a hundred or more."
"You're insane!" she screamed at him. "Insane! Sick! You're going to blow yourself sky-high and take me with you!"
Laurens nodded. "So be sure you're there for the explosion. I'm throwing the last party tomorrow night. And I'm dedicating it to you!"
She surprised him then, slapping his face. "I hate you!"
"That doesn't surprise me." He watched her grab her clothes and run into the bedroom, slamming the door. He expected to feel good, high even, now that he had tossed her out of his life. He didn't. He felt wretched. And he was dismayed to realize that he was not looking forward to the last party.
Hugh Laurens was ready to acknowledge the truth: he was a sick man.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After Shan hung up the phone, she smiled at Mel. "You're acting like a jealous lover. What's come over you?"
He sighed. "You know I go for you, baby. I have to share you at the parties, but not when we're alone. I don't dig another man trying to move in."
"Oh, I hardly know Tony," she said. "In fact, I didn't even recognize his voice at first, not until he told me who was calling."
Mel stared hungrily at her. "Remember I'm jeopardizing my whole marriage and everything for you. Just for you."
"Nobody's asking you to," Shan retorted. "There's the door whenever you're ready to go." She saw the hurt on his face.
"Baby, you don't really mean that, do you?"
She stood up and went to sit down on his lap and kiss him. "Oh, shut up, Mel," she laughed. "Do what we do best together. Don't spoil it with a lot of talk."
He put his arms around her, forgetting that they had had words. Everything was suddenly all right again. He slid his hand down her smooth-skinned back, his fingers rubbing along the crease of her buttocks, continuing until he stopped at the bottom of her cunt. He felt her wetness and his senses reeled.
He wanted to satisfy her, to make her forget all about the scene they had just had. He pushed her down on the divan and spread her legs apart. His hard tongue began licking the insides of her thighs. He glanced up at the impassioned look on her face, and thought to himself: The best way to this girl's heart is through her cunt!
He reached up with one hand and grabbed a handful of pubic hair, pulling upward, opening her moist slit. When his tongue entered, she moaned. Seizing a handful of his hair, she pulled him closer to her.
"Oh, Mel, you're the best. The very best."
His tongue began working faster. His jaws ached, however, because he had been doing too much of this lately. He even had a blister on the tip of his tongue.
He had always loved sex, but never had it developed into the mad pace that he had maintained for the past three months. He realized that he couldn't keep it up much longer. He had lost ten pounds and his potency seemed to be ebbing-the phenomenon was commonly referred to as being all fucked out.
He figured that he was now drinking about two fifths of whiskey a day. It took at least a pint to get him out of bed in the morning, which was a warning that he was on his way to becoming an alcoholic.
Somehow, someday soon, he was going to have to go away and rest for a few weeks, or he knew that he'd lose the one thing he had left-his looks.
He wondered how Shan kept her own looks and figure with all the booze she put away. The intake of alcohol didn't seem to bother her. He suspected that handfuls of dexedrine tablets kept her going through the day and sleeping pills at night rested her body.
There was a knock on the door just as she was about to get her rocks. Mel turned his face away from her crotch.
"Damn it!" Shan swore. "Who can that be?"
"Honey, it's me-Jennifer Laurens," someone said from the other side of the door.
"Just a minute." Shan looked at Mel. "You'd better get your robe on." She hurried over to a chair to find her pajamas and robe.
As they dressed, Shan whispered, "Jennifer goes for you. I don't want her to know we've been having sex without her."
Mel nodded.
Shan went to the door and opened it. Jennifer stepped inside. She was very attractive in a silk, flowered mini-dress and sheer nylons. Her blonde hair was carefully coiffured.
Shan closed the door behind her guest, then locked it. Jennifer spied Mel sitting on the divan. He was casually smoking a cigarette.
"Why, Mel, fancy finding you here! I was on my way home from the delicatessen and thought I'd drop by and say hello to Shan. What's going on?"
"I was so drunk last night that she let me sleep here on the divan," Mel lied, then wished that he had done better.
A knowing look came over Jennifer's face, but she concealed it with a smile. She went over and sat down next to him. Her mini-dress hiked up over her nylons, showing her garter-belt straps and a broad expanse of tanned flesh.
Martin remembered the old adage about a woman being more attractive clothed. He thought that Jennifer's legs were the most beautiful that he had ever seen. If it weren't for Shan, he could really go for her. He could even feel his prick rise up between his legs.
"Would you be a dear and bring me a drink?" Jennifer asked Shan.
The latter pushed back her hair, glanced at Mel, then smiled and went into the kitchen.
Jennifer opened her legs and faced Mel. His eyes caught a glimpse of her white thighs again. He was beginning to feel better now that he had gotten more drinks in him. He turned to her without reluctance and took her hand. "I'm looking forward to the next one," he said earnestly, meaning the next party Saturday night.
Her eyes dropped to his erection, which he was no longer able to hide. "Why, Mel, you do like me after all!" she replied. "I was inclined to think it was the money."
"No," he managed. "It's not the money. No entirely."
He saw Shan standing in the doorway with the drink in her hand. The expression on her face made him pause.
Jennifer accepted the drink. Shan picked up th bottle of Scotch and refilled her own glass. She tilted back her head and drank it all.
Mel indicated that he wanted a refill of his own.
"Do you mind if we use your bedroom?" Jennifer asked, taking Mel by surprise.
"Be my guest," Shan said coldly. She rattled her ice cubes.
Jennifer put down her glass and crooked a finger at Mel. She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. The room was a few degrees cooler than in the living room. "Take your robe off darling," she requested. "I want to watch you while I undress."
He hesitated, thinking of Shan, then he slipped out of the robe and threw it on the floor. Jennifer started to get out of her clothing.
Before she could remove her nylons and garter belt, his reticence vanished. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward the bed. He pushed her down on it and began kissing her eyelids, neck, ears, and mouth.
"Wait, Mel," Jennifer laughed. "I want to get my mouth on you."
He relaxed his grip on her as her head disappeared between his muscular thighs. He could feel her lips and tongue kissing and licking his prick, could even see her golden head moving up and down. Her hands squeezed the base of his cock and drew it up. Her tongue brushed against the tip of his prick, and he felt his passion heighten.
Presently it was too much for him. He let loose with a gusher. Jennifer took all of his orgasm into her mouth until his body finally relaxed, then she put her hand back around his prick and drained his last few drops.
"That was great, baby," he said weakly.
She nodded. "We're good together, Mel. Or haven't you noticed?"
"I have," he admitted. "I honestly wish we could see more of each other. But I'm going away by myself for a while and rest. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. Those parties have worn me out."
Jennifer patted his hand. "I don't blame you. I'm sick of them myself. I have a cottage of my own up at Friar's Point. Why don't we drive up there after the party Saturday night and stay for a couple of weeks? No one will bother us. You can rest and I'll take care of you."
Mel's face brightened. "Sounds terrific. But what about Hugh?"
"Don't worry about him. I'll make him give you a paid vacation and tell him you're going to see an orthopedic specialist in the east."
"And after that?"
She smiled. "We'll see. I have money of my own. I don't need Hugh's. With the new divorce law, I can be free of him in six months. Then we could be married, dearest. You'd never have to work again-or hire yourself out this way. Would you like that?"
He took a deep breath. "That would be swell. Unfortunately, I can't get free of Donna. She ... doesn't know."
Jennifer was openly shocked. "No! I didn't think you'd keep it from her this long. When are you going to tell her?"
"I won't," he declared. "I'll go back to her ... if she still wants me."
Jennifer looked disappointed. "Then at least give me a good fucking to compensate for my trouble."
"Wait a minute," he begged. "I'm not ready yet."
"I'll get you ready," she said, and her head went back down to his midsection. An expert tongue began working him over. Within a few seconds, his prick was hard again.
When he was ready, she maneuvered her body under him. Reaching between them, she guided his prick into her cunt and wrapped her legs around his back.
Mel relaxed and concentrated on satisfying her. He began slowly, giving her a little at a time. Then he shoved himself more vigorously against her.
She responded until their stomachs were slapping together. "Mel! Oh, God, you know what Hike!"
He pounded away at her cunt until her body became still and relaxed. She had climaxed just in time-his cock was losing its hardness.
He went to sleep before she had finished dressing.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Steve Kramer lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Darkness was descending outside, but he hardly noticed. He was mentally absorbed in Donna Martin. He wanted her now, but short of calling or rapping on her door, there was no way of telling if her husband was back again.
Just being in the same building with Donna was enough to keep him permanently on edge. They were good together, there was no question about it. But he wondered if he was getting too involved. He'd always prided himself on his independence, his absolute freedom of action. Then he wondered if Mel Martin decided to leave the party racket and go straight again, would he give Donna up?
As if in answer, a soft knock came at his door.
Kramer rolled out of bed on cat's feet and drew the .357 Magnum he kept in a holster concealed behind a curtain. He checked the cylinder before calling out, "Who's there?"
"It's me-Donna," someone said.
Kramer relaxed and put the weapon away. He opened the door and admitted a tight-lipped Donna Martin. He saw at one glance that she had been through some kind of emotional upheaval, that she had made some decision for herself. "Come in."
They couldn't say a word at first, just hugged one another as if they hadn't seen each other for years. Then he kissed her, more urgently than he might have on another day.
She stepped back, tears welling in her eyes. The expression on her face told him everything. The love-hate torment, the desire for vengeance, everything. "I guess you know. I've decided to leave him. Mel. But first I want proof. Proof that he's doing what we both know he is. I want you to help me get it."
He nodded. "Care for a drink?"
She shuddered. "I need one. And please make it strong."
He poured two strong ones. They sat on the bed and drank. At first neither of them spoke, then Steve told her what he thought of Shan Hartgrave. "I think she's suspicious," he confessed. "If so, we may not get it."
"The proof?"
"Rog. Mel may run a mile. I'm probably worrying for nothing, though. If you're willing to take the risk with me, I'll do what I can. Are you?"
"I am," Donna insisted.
Kramer took her in his arms. "You're here, and the worst is over. We'll be good for each other. Here, finish your drink. Things have moved fast lately, haven't they?"
She gulped the drink, her throat muscles contracting nervously.
Well, bachelor boy, you've gotten yourself into it now. She thinks you're a combination of Galahad and Joe Mannix. Figure out your exit cue ... if you want one. "We'll work it out. You and me." They would have to. No one would work it out for them.
Donna sniffed. "God, Steve, I wish I could die. Damn him and his filthy ideas. I feel so cheap and used. I don't think I'll ever feel the same about a man again."
"You will," he comforted. "It could happen sooner than you think." He flushed to his ears at how this sounded.
They looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Then they were in each other's arms again, frantically hugging.
The feel of her breasts-they were familiar breasts, like no one else's-sent a reassuring message to his brain. He began to think then that they might make it, might salvage something lasting, something meaningful from the experience. Her lips parted as he covered them with his own. He thrust a tongue between her teeth and began gently searching for the peak of one nipple.
Donna felt it, too-a resurging, a renewing. She nursed quietly on his tongue, as if for sustenance. Her nipples hardened instantly to his ministrations, pressing against his outstretched palms.
A vigorous hard-on bulged Kramer's pants, an erection so painful he wondered if he could hold himself in check long enough to coax it inside her. He hadn't realized how dependent he was on her, even in these early stages of their relationship. On another night, he might have run out for a quickie-type conquest. Tonight he couldn't.
She broke the kiss. "Oh, Steve, what are we going to do? What's going to become of us?"
He took her hand and placed it on his prick. "I regret that I have but one prick to give for my country."
She took her hand away, laughing in spite of herself. "How can you think of sex at a time like this? Have you no decency, no consideration?"
He slipped a hand under her sweater before she could escape. "None whatever. I spent the day thinking about you, and now I want to stop thinking. I want to live a little. Don't you?"
She dropped her head on his shoulder. "I don't know. I don't know about anything any more.
When this is over, I want to go far away. To the Coast, maybe. Or even Hawaii. Somewhere to make me forget, if that's possible."
"I understand." He slipped his arms around her and unhooked her bra. When her breasts were open to his touch, he touched them, with a tenderness that he hadn't felt for her before.
"Oh, Steve," she sighed. "It feels exquisite when you do that."
They were good together, compatible from a sexual if not an emotional standpoint. A pity he and she hadn't met before she wasted three years on Mel. Mel and his screwy ideas.
He didn't let himself think about Mel. Instead, he gave his undivided attention to the cool texture of Donna's flesh, the cool feel of her nipples in his palms. For the first time, he was seeing her as a person. A person who was important, and not because she would soon give herself to him. He cared, really cared, for her. The links to the other women he knew were fast weakening. Soon they would be dead altogether. "Tell me what you think of me."
"I think you're wonderful, Steve." Donna's reply was swift, honest. To punctuate it, she ran a tongue along his cheek, thrusting it deep into his mouth.
Kramer longed to be free of his clothing. His pants felt so tight that he feared he would burst them before getting them off. She felt, if her flushed face and increased rate of breathing meant anything, the same way. He began to gather her blouse up. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the garment up over her head. Then he helped remove her bra. After disposing of it, too, he gazed in appreciation.
Steve had never felt quite this way about her before. Just two days previous, it had been only raw, animal lust between them. She had been an impersonal object to fuck in the quickest, most violent way possible. Now she was a person, a woman pulsing with desires, dreams, frustrations; alive, breathing, real. She was his. He liked the new Donna better.
When he peeled off his shorts, she watched. Watching and smiled in open pleasure at a large staff that jutted stiffly at attention. She reached out, without being asked, and touched the hed.
Then she stood Up and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor beside her. She would have begun on her panties, too, only he stopped her by planting a kiss against her pan tied crotch. She caressed the back of his head with her fingertips.
Kramer wondered what made this moment more memorable, more profound than any of the others. Why should he feel so overwhelmed, so delighted with himself and her? The logic defied explanation.
He proceeded to the business at hand. He went beneath her panties, tugging them down until the dark triangle of her pubic hair was fully exposed. He lifted her onto the bed and began kissing her belly, her thighs, everywhere that he could reach. When he tapped her leg with a forefinger, she opened for him, permitting him access to her cunt. He kissed there, too, letting his tongue play along her cunt-lips, then dip lightly into the vestibule.
She squirmed under his attentions. He stopped and stripped away his shirt, so he would have nothing between her and him. For one long moment they just clung to one another, aware of the feel, the sensation of pleasure this intimate nearness created. Then he moved above her and entered, burying his shaft so deeply that she gasped. His prick slid between the moist walls that closed snugly about him.
She sensed his need and immediately lowered and lifted, letting his prick almost escape her grip before swallowing it completely again in that warm well. Again and again she lowered and lifted. Kramer experienced pleasure that he hadn't known in years. Every nerve in his body was aware of the caressing warmth of her cunt encasing him.
She rotated on his shaft. She made him know how happy she was to have him there. Made him know in a way no other woman had. But he wouldn't think about other women. Not just yet.
Kramer couldn't control himself any longer. He began moving in rhythm with her. Quick, powerful thrusts shoved his cock in completely, then her vaginal walls took over, contracting downward on his hard-on until the meaty crown was captured and squeezed. He thrust again and felt the same pleasure. For endless minutes-it might have been an hour, it might have been two hours-the cycle repeated itself. They had never loved with such abandon, with such contempt for tomorrow.
Finally her cunt tightened around him. He felt the swelling of an approaching climax, an orgasm for both of them. He held back as long as he could, until the blood seemed to inflate his cock past the bursting point. The eruption awed even him: searing spurts of semen that must have doused her inner walls white. To Kramer it seemed as if he had climaxed with his whole body. The release lanced through all the nerves of his groin, hissing from deep inside him and escaping through the channel of his rod buried inside her.
Then they were again clawing at one another. To Kramer's surprise, his prick was still hard and stiff. The erection didn't last long, however. Both were intent on quick and total ecstasy. He let the mounting need build as rapidly as it wanted. Donna gasped, strained, shuddered. He felt his own climax once again swell into release.
They lay in one another's arms a long time before words were necessary, he stroking her hair, she trailing cool fingers across his perspiring chest.
"You said you tried to get into the next party," she murmured. "Tell me about it."
With an effort, Kramer dragged himself back to the present. "Maybe I should have said, the last party. The others may not know it yet, but old Laurens is closing out operations. At least, that's the impression I get from one of my informants, a girl who calls herself Jan. She says Laurens told her this after a few drinks, then ordered her to keep her lip buttoned."
Donna was silent, digesting this information. "When is it?"
"Tomorrow night. Eight p.m. as usual. We know the time, the place, and the players. Shall we crash it?"
She shivered. "Would we be in danger?"
Kramer considered. He honestly wasn't sure, although he didn't plan to take a gun along. "I don't think so. But if you want me to, I'll go alone. Shall I?"
"No. I'll go with you."
"Is that a promise?"
Her arms tightened around him. "What do you think?"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next night, a few minutes before eight, Steve and Donna drove out past the airport to the new luxury development known as Nelson's Estates. They loafed along in Kramer's Cutlass until they saw the light over the address post of a large, rambling ranch home. Kramer compared the address with the one on a scrap of paper in his hand.
"This is it, baby," he said. "We'd better park up the street and jack the car, like we just had a flat." He eyed the white-painted steel gate and intercom box. "We'd never get in without identification, anyway. That gate's electrically controlled."
Donna agreed. "You're in charge, Steve, darling."
He stopped the Cutlass in the shadow of a tree a hundred feet away. No sooner had he jacked the car and laid out the tools than another set of headlights came along behind them, pulling up to the gate where they had been a couple of minutes before.
Kramer dropped a wrench and stepped into the shrubbery to have a closer look. There was enough room between a hedge and a chainlink fence for a grown man to walk upright. "You stay here," he told Donna.
He reached a point just a dozen yards from the new arrivals, then paused to listen.
Shan Hartgrave stepped out of the driver's side of her Firebird. She walked up to the gate to use the intercom. After hanging up, she returned to the car, staggering slightly. She wished she hadn't had the last two drinks that Mel had bought her. He was turning into a lush, and so was she.
Mel's head lolled against the back of the seat. The collar was loose on his crinkle-ribbed shirt. His tie, spotted with whiskey stains, was a mess. "Are we in, or aren't we?" he demanded, slurring the words.
She looked at him in disgust. "I don't know how you got in that condition, lover. I'm a little looped myself, but you-you're ridiculous. Hugh's going to be furious with both of us."
He hiccupped. "Don't worry about little old Mel. I'll be all right."
"When we get inside, you go straight to the kitchen," she said severely. "I'll be there in a minute and try to sober you up."
"Awright," he mumbled.
Shan started the car again and drove through the gate, which had opened automatically. The gate closed again behind her. She started up the winding drive to the parking area behind the swimming pool. She halted next to the other vehicles.
She realized that she wasn't too steady on her feet herself, certainly not steady enough to help Mel inside. But she managed to get him out of the car and up the steps of a side entrance. She tried the door and it opened. Everyone else seemed to be out by the pool, so she pushed him inside and pointed him toward the kitchen. But she wasn't at all sure that he could find his way there. "Don't you dare make me ashamed of you, Mel Martin," she threatened.
"Who's shamed?" he blustered, then shuffled along the strange hallway to only he knew where.
Shan despaired of salvaging him. She could only hope the Laurens wouldn't be too angry.
Kramer watched the gate close again and the lights of the Firebird twinkle out of sight. Then he returned to his own car, where Donna was nervously awaiting him.
"Did you see the girl? That was Shan Hartgrave, who hustles fresh talent for the Laurens. Guess who her passenger was." Kramer saw Donna's face change. "That's right. Your wandering husband. They're reporting for duty, the two of them."
Donna clenched her hands into fists. "Damn him!" Her lips trembled in the darkness. "It's true, then."
"Afraid so." Kramer glanced around to see if anyone had noticed them. No one had. "If we're going in ourselves, we'll have to go over the fence. Or find a way under. If I tell them who I am, they'll have fits, every one of them. Maybe call the Taw. Are you game?"
She hesitated. "I'm not sure. They could have us arrested for trespassing. I've never been arrested before in my life."
He reached through the car window and opened the glove compartment. There was a half-full bottle of Scotch inside. He pressed the whisky into her hands. "Here, take a couple of swallows of this. You want to see with your own eyes what Mel's doing, don't you? Otherwise, how would you know? You think I've been exaggerating about what party boys have to do to earn high fees. So let's hit it."
She drank twice on the Scotch, coughed, then put the bottle back in the compartment. "I know you're right. I want to see it for myself. What if he's only a bouncer or something?"
Kramer chuckled in spite of himself. "And I suppose Shan's been hired to do card tricks. You're so naive, darling, but maybe that's why I love you." He brushed her lips with his.
"Let's go before I change my mind." She climbed out of the car.
Kramer led her back the way he had come, between the hedge and the fence. After checking to make sure no new car was approaching, they ran past the lighted gate to the darkness on the other side. For five minutes they prowled through the foliage, rounding two comers and reaching the rear before discovering a short gate locked with a length of chain. They congratulated one another. The gate was low enough to climb over.
Clever landscaping prevented them from seeing the pool and the patio surrounding it, but they could hear the sounds of merriment. Another party was starting up. They listened for a minute, then he helped her over the gate, clambering over after her. Hearts thudding, they stood for a moment holding one another. He began to wish he had brought a gun.
"Scared?"
Donna nodded in the gloom. "Aren't you?"
"Yeah, but we've got a job to do. Follow me and stay close."
Two conspirators with a common purpose, they began creeping toward the source of the merriment.
Out by the pool, the last party was in full swing. Some of the people were completely new, having been rounded up by Mel or Shan only a day or so prior. Nude lovelies of every description flaunted their big breasts and ample buttocks, while Hugh Laurens, sentimental for a change, admired them all from where he sat in a director's chair.
Shan stood next to him. She heard him saying something to her, and she bent low to hear what it was.
"I don't like the way Mel's been acting lately. He looks like he's been out rehearsing for the lead in Falstaff. In fact, where is he right now? He should be out here."
"He's in the kitchen having a cup of coffee," Shan replied.
"Get him out here," Laurens snapped. "Everyone else is ready to swing, and that meathead's drinking coffee? Get him out here!"
"Yes, Mister Laurens." Shan, mouth twitching, turned away. She started around the swimming pool to go into the house. She spied Lee Scanlon halfway around, however, and stopped to greet him.
"Hello, baby," he grinned, then pretended to look in front of and behind her for the missing Mel Martin. "Your lead dog gone astray?"
Shan laughed. "He's inside drying out. Mel's having a problem with corks lately. He's trying to collect every last one he can get his hands on."
Scanlon shrugged. He seemed to have had one or two drinks himself. "Who needs him. See this?" He stood up and lowered his swimming trunks. A magnificent hard-on sprang forth. "If you've got a minute...." he suggested, smiling.
She pushed him away halfheartedly, one eye on Hugh Laurens. When he told her to do something, he usually meant it. But Hugh was wrapped up in a gorgeous young redhead whom Shan had never seen before. Shan relented. "Well, all right."
She lay on her back on the cool bricks. Lee yanked her hot pants down and knelt over her.
"This one won't do you for the evening," he panted. "Just get your rocks off. Know what I mean?"
She knew what he meant.
Kramer had found a ladder leaning against a shed and had moved it to the rear of the bath house. He could hear loud laughter and water splashing as he climbed gingerly up the rungs.
Kneeling on the roof of the bath house, he looked down on the pool and patio. The scene below was right out of a Roman orgy. A dozen couples of every age and description were engaging in every sexual practice known to modern man. No one was holding back.
Kramer descended to fetch up Donna. "Come on," he said softly. "You'll flip when you see this."
She followed him to the top of the flat roof, keeping her head low.
Kramer flung out his hands. "Behold."
Donna beheld, then promptly clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. "Merciful heaven!" she breathed, gazing across the pool area. Her eyes took in the men's different-sized cocks and the women's big bouncing breasts and full-blown buttocks. "I've never seen anything like this before in my life! They're doing everything!"
Kramer watched her face as she continued to observe the torrid action. She appeared to be enjoying it, in a horrified sort of way, which surprised him. When he saw her licking her lips, he slid his hand beneath her short skirt, up the back of her thighs, then to the crotch of her panties. The fabric was soaking wet. He worked two fingers under the thin elastic and into her cunt.
Donna, rather than slapping him away, balanced precariously on one hand and returned the caress, fondling the end of his cock through the material of his slacks. She laughed shakily. "I don't know if it's the Scotch or not, but I almost wish we were down there with them. Don't you?"
Kramer agreed. "But we can't afford to be mixed up with that bunch. Not for money or anything else."
Donna sighed. "I know. Please forget I said it. I-" She seemed to suddenly remember why they had come. She looked about desperately for Mel. "Do you see him, Steve? Do you? Please tell me if you do. I'm beginning to think you were mistaken. Maybe that was someone else you saw in the car."
Kramer held her arm to keep her from falling. He squeezed. "I wasn't mistaken. You'll spot him soon enough. You may be sorry when you do."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Mel and Shan came out of the house and staggered around the far end of the pool. They were both holding each other up, although Mel obviously had the worse of it.
"Look!" Kramer whispered, pointing.
When Donna finally let herself recognize the man whom she had married, a nude young girl walked past him. Mel unhesitatingly grabbed her and buried his face between her flapping boobs. "No!" Donna screamed. She tore herself loose from Kramer's grasp and went half-sliding, half-falling into the lush grass below them.
Kramer was aghast. Now they were both undone. Because everyone was looking their way now, and all conversation had ceased, he followed her, clinging by his hands from the roof's overhang, then dropping onto the grass beside her.
Donna had hit the ground running. She rushed across the patio and slapped her amazed spouse hard across the face, once, twice, three times. She even spat upon him. "Animal!" she shouted, in a voice everyone in Nelson's Estates could hear. "Degenerate!" Then she whirled toward Shan and confirmed what everyone there had probably suspected: Shan's long, black hair was not her own. The wig came off in Donna's hand. Donna flung the wig to the bricks and stomped on it.
Hugh Laurens, rising from his conquest of a young redhead, grabbed a beach towel and wrapped it around his middle as he ran toward them. His wife, Jennifer, left the young man she was with and came to join him. "What's going on here?" Laurens demanded, livid with anger. "Who are you?"
"I happen to be Mel Martin's wife," Donna sobbed, dissolving into tears. "Or at least I was."
"You drunken fool!" Laurens hissed at Mel.
"I'll have you all arrested!" Donna vowed, near hysteria and showing it.
Laurens would have seized and throttled her, only someone grabbed his arms. "If anyone gets arrested, it'll be you two!" he thundered. "You're trespassing on my property! Get moving, both of you!"
Steve Kramer, paralyzed in the grass, finally found his voice and his legs. He ran to Donna's side. "I'm with Mrs. Martin and I happen to be a witness to everything that's going on here. But we'll leave at once." He tugged her away before she could stop him.
They found their car and drove off as fast as they could go, she crying on his shoulder and he trying to comfort her. It was last night all over again, he thought, except now she really was his. His to marry if he wanted to. He decided he did.
"How-fast can a person get a divorce in this state?" she asked.
Kramer grinned and checked the car's rearview mirror for signs of pursuit. "Depends on whether or not it's contested. In your case, I think you're worrying over nothing. Kiss?"
She kissed him through three traffic lights and a stop sign.
Hugh Laurens fixed Mel Martin with a terrible glare. Shan, too. "You drunken bastard, get out of here!" he roared. "And take her with you! Don't bother to come in Monday, either, because you're fired!"
Mel, sobering in an instant, bundled Shan, kicking and resisting, back to their car.
"Let go of me!" she raged, hitting at him with ineffectual fists. "Who do you think you are? Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see," Mel said grimly. He stuffed her in the driver's side and squeezed behind the wheel himself, although he really was in no shape to drive. "That moron can't fire me like this! We'll take one of his planes and skip the country." He hit the starter and made the Firebird's mill turn over.
"What?" Shan looked at him as if he was crazy.
"You heard me." He drove them toward the gate at break-neck speed. Someone had pressed the automatic button beside the pool, so he wasn't obliged to stop. Martin fumbled inside his coat. "I've got money. See?" He produced a wallet bulging with currency-the proceeds from his months as a hired stud.
Shan huddled on the passenger side and began to cry. "You dirty bum!" she sobbed. "You've ruined everything. Everything. I'll have to give up ray apartment and all the other luxuries. Even the car."
"You'll give up nothing!" he retorted. "After we're married, I'll make it up to you."
She raised her head to stare contemptuously at him. "You'll make it up to me! Why, you drunken idiot, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth! You weakling, you make me sick to my stomach!"
"Shut up!" He drove faster, taking the shortest possible route to the airport, screeching through turns and running traffic lights. He turned into the unattended gate inside the fence, bringing them up short in front of Airways' fleet of airplanes. They stopped in a stench of scorched rubber. He jumped out and dragged her after him, having to struggle to keep his feet and maintain a grasp on the girl at the same time. Mel staggered with his burden toward the Comanche on the far apron. He knew Laurens kept it gassed for his own personal use on Sunday afternoons.
Shan fought with him to free herself, digging long fingernails into his hands and arms, kicking at his shins and feet. "No!" she wailed. "I'm not going with you! Oh, dear God, let me go!"
"We're going to meet God," Mel laughed, pinning her arms to her side so that she couldn't flail at him any more. When she realized that he meant it, most of the fight went out of her. He reached the Comanche and thrust her inside, scrambling in himself and securing the door. He idled the plane for less than a minute before releasing the brake and taxiing toward the north runway.
"No, Mel, no!" Shan pleaded, trying vainly to open a cabin door.
Mel disregarded both the girl and the tower, which was exhorting him to identify himself and follow accepted take-off procedures. He gunned down the north runway. When he pulled back the wheel, the Comanche faltered and almost stalled, but managed to clear the field and the obstructions beyond. Mel's heart seemed to drop out of his throat and return to his chest. "Tomorrow Mexico City!" he crowed. "The next day ... who knows?"
"You're insane!" Shan wept.
"We'll sell the plane and live off the money. I know how to forge the papers. Or maybe we'll keep it and start our own charter service. Would you like that, baby?" He reached out with a free hand to squeeze her shoulder, but she slapped the hand away.
The altimeter read two thousand feet when Shan suddenly dove for the control wheel, trying to wrest it from his hands.
"Get away, damn it!" he swore at her.
"Make me!"
Mel was struggling with her, trying to regain the wheel, when she threw all her weight on it. The plane nose-dived for the lights below. "You're going to get us killed!" he gasped.
"Why not? There's nothing to live for!" she taunted, pressing harder.
He slapped her away and pulled back on the wheel with all his strength. Nothing happened. They were in a dive that neither the plane's metal nor its power plant was built to handle. In mingled fascination and horror, Mel watched the lights below zooming up to meet them. They were doomed.
Just before the man, the girl and the plane exploded in a single ball of fire, Mel had time to utter one word.
"WRONG!" he screamed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Steve Kramer listened to the chaplain's soothing voice and stared straight ahead, so he wouldn't see how few mourners there were in the tiny chapel of the funeral home. Donna Martin was there, of course, and a woman who had said she was Mel's sister. The resemblance was striking. But neither Hugh Laurens nor Jennifer Laurens had chosen to show their final respects for the man they had destroyed. Kramer could understand why. With Shan and Mel gone, the Laurens' secret was safe. Donna Martin would expose them at her peril, but she probably wouldn't try to...." and into Thy Hands we commend his spirit," concluded the chaplain. "Amen."
Kramer, who felt no guilt at having attended Mel's funeral without being asked, got up and filed out with the others. Due to the rain, there was no graveside ceremony. His eyes met Donna's at the door, but he didn't try to touch or talk to her. Donna's, he noticed, were red and swollen, but whether from grief or lack of sleep, Kramer wasn't prepared to say. He sent her a silent message: Later.
He waited two weeks-a decent interval, he felt-before going in search of her. After the funeral, she became a recluse who went out only for food and services. He had become accustomed to not seeing her much, so it came as a shock when he saw that her name had been removed from the building directory. Kramer sped to the supervisor and demanded an explanation. "The Martin widow-what happened to her?"
"What happened to her?" The super bared his misaligned teeth and scratched his bald head. "The same thing that happens to all widows, bub. She moved away to forget. Maybe she wanted to forget every thing-including you."
Kramer grabbed the man. "She must have left a forwarding address. Find it."
"Keep your shirt on. I keep records like I'm supposed to. If she sent me an address, I still have it."
A battered gray file cabinet behind the super's desk yielded the information that Kramer sought. He made two copies and rushed out without thanking anyone. He drove, searching for an older apartment building where the rents were lower. He found it. Of course, Kramer thought, parking his car and climbing out. She would have to scale down her standard of living now that Mel was gone. Or would she? There might be insurance.
He knocked on Donna's door and wasn't at all sure he'd catch her home. But she opened the door on the second knock and gazed out at him. Kramer's jaw sagged. He had trouble recognizing the devastated widow of two weeks earlier. Donna's hair was in a younger, more flattering style; her widow's black had turned into a red, tailored mini-suit. And she was smiling at him, although there was a hard, bitter cast to the smile. "Can I ... come in?" he asked.
She nodded, and stood aside to let him enter. "I knew you'd find me-sooner or later. I suppose I should be glad ... that someone cares."
He saw the daring in her eyes, the invitation, and even if she was a recent widow, he was still a man. He reached her in one stride and bent her almost double, almost tripping them both when one of her feet got entangled with his. Donna opened her mouth to say something-but he covered those fresh-painted lips with his own and ground them into her teeth. The lips tasted sweet, and with good reason: she's been into someone's Scotch this morning. Her own, he hoped. After perhaps three seconds when she was rigid in his arms, Donna kissed him back, sliding her arms around his neck so that they were locked in a snug embrace.
He had a client waiting at his office, but Kramer forgot about the client in the sheer dizziness of this kiss. The taste and scent and feel of her was familiar. The two weeks they had been apart melted away until not even Mel's name on a death certificate mattered to them, certainly not to him. He wanted her so badly, needed her so badly, it was an ache, an agonizing throb in his guts.
They broke apart. Kramer went tense when Donna's eyes opened, because if she was still hard around the mouth, he wasn't sure he wanted her. But she was merely wide-eyed with need, the same as himself. She wanted him, too, even if she hadn't admitted it.
"Steve, you wouldn't-you wouldn't toy with me, would you?"
"Christ, no!" His voice sounded choked, even to his ears. "Do I look like I'm toying? Do I feel like I'm toying?" He pressed himself close against her and let her know what he was talking about. He had a hard-on, the likes of which she probably hadn't seen-or felt-in two weeks.
Donna's laugh was more nearly a sob. She held him to her like a mother clasping a long-lost son, which wasn't exactly what he had hoped for. But she was stroking his prick through his slacks. "Steve, Steve, Steve, I thought you'd never come.
In another week, I would have given up."
"Then I came just in time."
Kramer drew in a lungful of air and then he bent to Donna's lips again. He kissed them this time with less brutishness and more skill. He kissed them the way he knew she wanted them to be kissed.
She was kissing him back with more fire than he ever knew was in her. She was also lifting her warm thighs, one at a time, to rub them across the front of his slacks, exciting both of them, but especially him. He was owner now of a seven-inch cock which, at the moment, had nowhere to go.
He licked at her lips with his tongue until she parted them for him. Kramer submarined in and began flailing wildly at everything he could reach. Donna had to calm him by first mastering his tongue with hers, then by driving him backwards until they, or their their tongues, were in his mouth. After which she gave him a short, refresher course in how to french. He had taught her much of what she knew. She applied that skill now.
Donna sucked at the inner side of his lips and she cleaned his teeth-one at a time until they were all shiny. She swirled her tongue around his until he nearly came in his shorts. She fastened herself, leech-like, to the underside of his tongue and made him think about every good thing that had ever happened to him. When he began to think that there was nothing else she could do, Donna paused and then slowly lashed her tongue from side to side on the roof of his mouth, caressing him with her marvelous thighs.
He knew what was expected of him now-his best. He mounted a counterattack. Whereas she had only licked and sucked him into a state of coiled readiness, he nibbled and bit at her teeth, lips and tongue until she was like Jell-O in his arms. The moans coming from Donna's lovely throat had a lusty quality to them. She was turned on and he'd soon be in.
She was supporting herself partly on the television set and partly on his shoulders, so there was no need to hold her up. Kramer moved his hands from her waist and buttocks to her breasts, covering each magnificent mound with a palm which could barely circle it. He began to massage each tit in time with his frenching. Donna's fingertips tapped approval on his shoulders. She began to tremble. Her head turned, to enable him to reach her better.
They couldn't fuck on the edge of the television, so he stopped and scooped her off the floor, heading for a bed with her. The apartment was a mess, but he didn't mind. He set her down beside the bed and tore at her buttons, almost ruining one. Donna pushed his hands away and worked the buttons herself, watching him. Kramer realized she wanted him to bare himself at the same time that she did. He started undressing.
When he looked at her again, Donna was totally nude, totally vulnerable. He stared at this white-skinned creature with the jet-black hair and the jet-black pubic bush, and it was like he was peering at a stranger. He had forgotten, during those two weeks without her, how awesomely physical she was. Then he noticed that she was examining him in the same, hungry way-the tangle of dark-brown hair on his chest, his trim, athletic waist, the prick jutting out stiffly from below his belly. Kramer grinned, because a grin masked the embarrassment that he felt. "Have I gone downhill since you saw me last?"
Donna shook her head, and it seemed to him that there was a mistiness in her eyes. "You haven't changed, Steve. You just seem larger."
"Flattery works both ways. I feel like a new groom."
She crawled into bed, making room for him on the rumpled covers. Kramer climbed up and stretched out beside a woman he was beginning to like better and better. He reached out for her again, returning his tongue to its steamy resting place and his hands to her breasts. The woman's scent was stronger now, filling his nostrils so that he was aware of nothing else.
His tongue tired after a few minutes, and he let hers do most of the teasing. When he recovered, Kramer licked a path of pure fire down her chin and across her throat, over her collarbone and down into the moistness between her breasts. He drank the moisture dry before lapping at her nipple. When he took the left one between his teeth, Donna's hands came to the back of his head and stayed there. She expelled a long, shuddering sigh.
"Steve, if you only knew," she whispered, struggling to get closer to him. "If you only knew...."
He gnawed at her swollen nipple. Then he sucked it into his mouth. Donna's legs thrashed the covers, reminding him of the treasures yet untouched.
When he switched to the other breast, Kramer snaked a hand down between her thighs and let it rest for a minute in the thick growth of her bush, luxuriating in the tangled duskiness he remembered so well. Wandering to her cunt, he encountered more good news: Donna was practically dripping with lubricant.
He delved between the out-puckered lips with a stiff forefinger, and Donna twitched in response. He moved the finger around a few times, and she was ready to crawl on top of him. He could forget about eating this particular dish; she'd been too long without his cock. Kramer wondered, while he sucked her right tit and swiped back and forth at her clit, why she had chosen to run and force him to follow.
If he had any worries, it was that he might not be able to perform quite as well as she expected. He had gone without pussy for two weeks, too, and the strain on his control might possibly be more than he could handle. But he had never had trouble getting it up.
If he could bring her off this way first, he reasoned, then he would take the edge off her lust. By the time he put his prick in, they would be roughly equal in desire. He would try to make her climax twice, and hope she was satisfied.
Rather than urge him to stuff it in before he was ready, with possibly disappointing results for both of them, she held him by the head and let him know, through words and action, that she was close to an orgasm. Her voice climbed two octaves and peaked out in a shrill cry. Her body exploded so that he was obliged to hold her down.
He pressed his weight closer to hers and maintained a steady pumping. While the spasms racked her body, every nerve ending in his was attuned to what was happening in hers. She went limp at last, beads of perspiration breaking out across her forehead and running down into her hair.
Donna was quiet while her heart and respiration were returning to normal. Her hands stroked his hair and her flanks quivered under his hand.
"I needed that, Steve. You'll never know how much I needed it. I have the money, but I needed that, too."
Aching to take her, but determined to wait until she wanted him, too, Kramer moved his head away from her breasts and talked into the hollow of her shoulder. "Money?"
She hesitated. "I may as well tell you. You'll probably find out anyway. The Laurens have paid me fifty thousand dollars not to make trouble. In cash."
"Wow. You won't get away from me again. Bank on it." He was only half-kidding. A woman with money had to be more attractive than a woman without. But Kramer knew he'd be interested in this particular woman even if she lost every dime.
"From now on, I think I'll buy my men, Steve. Can I buy you?"
"Shut up," he advised, using his lips to seal off hers before they infuriated him further. To his utter astonishment, Donna sank her teeth into his lower one, deep enough to draw the blood. Rather than make him angry, she awoke the primitive beast in him. Kramer came alive with sexual need, with the urgency of joining his body with hers and fucking her into submission.
Donna felt it, too, because her nipples had erected again with no help from him. She arched away from him in wanton invitation. "Come and get it, Steve!" she trilled. "If you think you can!"
He piled on top of her, grabbed her arms, then tried to spread her legs long enough to make an entrance. Donna was a strong young woman, however, and it was an even match until he let his heavier weight do his fighting for him. When he lay squarely across her belly, Donna stopped and yielded her body to him.
"All right, Steve, damn you!" she gasped. "Fuck me! Fuck me until you can't fuck me any more!"
He wriggled until his knees were between hers, then he seized her thighs and forced them apart. Her cunt was a lovely one-big and gaping and glistening with proof that he was expected, and soon. He couldn't miss. Kramer speared her cunt. Donna bleat out her ecstatic approval. He leaned forward, and she pounded his bare back.
"So long, Steve, so long!"
He wasn't sure if she meant it had been a long time since they fucked, or that it had been a long time since any man drove himself inside her the way he was driving. There was no time to ask. He was home now, and there was nowhere else to go. Donna wrapped her legs around his waist, and they were locked together.
Kramer teetered on the edge of blackness, and for a few seconds he wasn't sure if he could stay conscious, or even if it mattered. He was dimly aware that he was still above her-weak and spent, but still above her-and that she was asking him something. Only he didn't know what. And then she was pushing him off her. Or maybe he was falling. When he was supine on his back, the darkness came for him.
