She grabbed his limp prick. "How long do we have to wait?"
"Twenty minutes. Half an hour, maybe," he offered, shrugging.
"Like shit," she said.
"An inescapable fact of life, Lorie," he told her.
"I can shorten that time to about three minutes," she said.
"And how would you manage that?" he asked.
"Watch," she said.
She moved in between his long, well-muscled legs again, grabbed the loose prick that flopped over the bulging sac of his balls. She opened her mouth, took the wilted penis into it. It was small now, and because it was so rubbery and flexible, she was able to twist it about to fill up her entire mouth, stuffing it in until her pert little nose was shoved right into his belly, into his pubic thatch, and her green eyes were looking up at his belly button.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
In this day, this age, children mature more quickly than ever before in human history. Our society has created this fact and seems to perpetuate it while denouncing the children it makes. Among those children, there are the bright ones, the ones who are even ahead of this early maturity. It is not easy for them to adapt, to fit in, and to come to grips with the world. The world is too anxious to think in chronological terms, to enforce the belief that because they are young in years they are young in all ways. But we must soon learn that elderliness does not make a great quality for a President or senator or Supreme Court justice. Youth can also be alive, aware, intelligent and interesting, capable and willing. This is one story of the sexual and mental maturation of one of those young girls whose mind develops far ahead of the time when society would like to think it has. She is a child of the future. And though some people will not like to think that her lifestyle is common, they should learn that it is.
CHAPTER ONE
Lori Phillips, thirteen-years-old, felt a thin trickle of hot sex juice dribble down her taut thigh beneath the loose-fitting shortie nightgown she wore. She twisted in the sheets, trying to get to sleep, though there seemed no hope of that. She was sexually heated, her nipples hard and aching, her pussy alive with a rippling demand for the punishment of fingers or-oh, yes, yes-of a thick cock. But she had no chance for the latter and had to always rely on the agile pummeling of fingers against her clitoris, against the slick, ripe flesh of her young cunt. She had finger-fucked herself rather thoroughly not long ago, had spasmed and climaxed, the sweet wet essence of her pie dribbling through her young labes and into the cup of her palm as her little fingers worked furiously inside herself. But the heat in her damp box had no chance to abate. And now, dammit, now they were at it down the hall, the old man and her mother, humping the hell out of each other. She could hear the sounds, distant and almost inaudible, but she knew that he was filling her mother up with his prick, the very thing she wanted so much for herself, and visions of a pumping cock filled her mind and disturbed her so much that she could not sleep.
She let her hand trail down to her fatty pubes, felt the thick bush of fuck-mound hair that concealed her young treasure. She had more hair down there than any other girl her age-or at least more than any other girl in her gym class. They kidded her about it.
But she was proud. Proud, also, of the breasts which were much fuller than any of the other girl's breasts. They were thirty-five's, round and big-nippled, at least two inches larger than the largest other set in her class, and usually more than that. With one hand, she tweaked the nipples, drew them long and deliciously hard.
This was not going to be sufficient, she realized as her cunt spasmed with pleasure at her wriggling fingers. She stopped masturbating, brought her hand up to her face and smelled her fingers. The ripe odor of a young, sexually mature woman was there. She licked at the essence and smiled in the darkness at the taste of her inner recesses, wished fervently that there was a boy with her now, someone who might lick down there with a real tongue-and put a real", solid tube of male meat up into the seething depths of the pot that was the fulcrum of her physical being.
She heard her mother squeal, and the single, almost forlorn note of bed springs strained almost beyond the point of endurance.
Lori groaned, lying there in desperate need and with no hope of obtaining the sort of release she so ardently wished for, arching her young body, thrusting her buttocks off the bed and breathing heavily as she strained her ears for the sound of other moments of lovemaking.
"Fuck her, fuck her ... " she hissed in the darkness as she tried to envision the sight of her father thrust between her mother's bare legs.
Sometimes, like this, she resented having grown up so swiftly, having become a woman so far ahead of her time. It was bad enough being a teenager, with all the self-doubts, the agonies, the clumsiness of manners. But to be locked into a teen-age role while you had the body of a woman, the sexual needs of a woman-that was pure torture! And it was not just that she was more physically developed than the other kids her age. She also found the chattered nonsense of adolescents rather uninteresting and contented herself with reading poetry (she loved Ginsburg) and literature that were far beyond her years. She was bored with school, managed to get good grades without doing much of anything. She was one of those textbook cases, she knew, of children who are not children, who have IQ's far beyond those they should. She had taken an IQ test once, and they had found out she was somewhat of a genius. They advanced her two grades, but that was not enough. Her parents were against sending her into college at fourteen, oblivious to the fact that she was as physically ready and anxious for that as she was mentally. She wanted fucked, physically and mentally, wanted rich seed of sperm and knowledge planted in her vagina and mind, but she was hobbled with two more years of high school after this one until she could get away and learn-and also enjoy a little of that free sex attitude that prevailed so thoroughly on the modern American campus.
Another delighted eruption of sexual joy echoed dimly from her parents' room, and she writhed in anger as her own body responded lustily to that echo by pulsing and aching even more deeply in her crotch.
"Come in her and get it over with, damn you!" she hissed, biting her lips.
Then, abruptly, she had an idea that she had never had before, and the more she explored it, the more exciting it became. Why not go down the corridor, quietly, push open their door, quietly, and try to watch them fucking? Her cunnie dripped excessively at that thought, and she knew she would have release of a more permanent sort if this voyeuristic adventure could be combined with masturbation as she watched.
She kicked out of bed, left her room, the door standing open so she could get in swiftly if that were necessary, and padded softly, softly down the hallway. Once, she tread on a loose board beneath the carpet, and was rewarded by a sound like a small mouse in the darkness. She stopped and stood very still, certain that she would be discovered. Then she remembered that her parents were locked organ to organ, fucking with a fury that had been able to penetrate the walls of this old, stone house, and that they would be so caught up in the slamming, slippery friction of penis against vagina that it was highly unlikely they would hear a slight squeak of loose floorboards. She almost laughed at her tenseness, then hurried on lest she miss out on anything or arrive after the old man had already blown his wad and rolled off her mother.
She reached the door of their bedroom and stood before it, trembling a little as she anticipated the procedure for opening it.
On the other side, the heavy breathing and the wet slapping of cock into pussy was clearly audible, and the sound of it made Lori run even more swiftly between the legs with the precious secretion of her young slot, the creamy fluids of her womanhood.
"Screw ... me ... Bob!" she heard her mother whispering, her voice harsh, exhausted, rasping sensuously from her throat. "Fuck the ... shit out of me, darling!"
Her father moaned, seemed to increase the furious rhythm of his slamming, fucking frenzy.
Lori, breathing heavily herself, her heart fluttering like the heart of a rabbit in her chest, reached forth and grasped the brass doorknob, felt the cold lump of it in her hand. She hesitated, afraid she might be caught, that the portal might make some loud screeching sound in the opening of it. Then, as she listened to the .sounds of delight beyond, she knew she could not turn back. She had never seen anyone fucking and had never seen a naked man in her life. Some of the girls at school had pictures out of a nudist magazine, but the farthest those things went was to show limp and semi-turgid dicks. She wanted to see a male prong in all its blood-gorged glory.
She twisted the knob, felt it turning, the mechanisms sliding, until finally she brought it around as far as it would go. She held her breath, swallowed her heart which had sneaked, somehow, into her slim, brown throat, and pushed against the door.
It swung open, a little reluctantly at first, then cleared the jamb and showed a sliver of the bedroom. She could see, by opening it two inches, the bed where her parents were. There was a soft, yellow light washing across the scene from the forty watt, shaded bulb on the night stand, and she caught her breath as she saw lovemaking for the first time.
Her parents were both young, in their middle thirties, and her mother-especially-had always struck her as a beautiful woman. Now, both of them were beautiful, like teen-agers in the amber flush of light, smooth and sleek and marvelously energetic.
Her father was atop her mother, and as Lori watched, looking toward the foot of the bed, she could see the stretched twat and the rising and descending sac of her father's bloated balls. The big, hairy spheres slapped against her mother's ass as the thick meat plunged in and out of her. It was difficult to see the prick from this angle, but Lori found she was still more excited than she had ever been before in her life.
She squatted by the opened door, playing a hand between her lovely smooth legs, teasing the flapped opening of her tight quim as she watched her mother and father balling happily on the crumbled bedclothes.
Then, abruptly, they rolled, the thick penis still fucked deep into Lori's mother's cunt, and the woman took the top, her large, swinging tits bouncing as she threw her head back and bucked on the meat stick like a cowboy riding a bronco. Her face was a mask of joy, deep rich sensual delight that made her eyes half-lidded, her mouth open in a loose grin of pleasure.
Lori came diddling in her own soupy pie, and she almost fell backwards onto her cute, rounded butt from the undulating waves of excitement that blew through the tight recesses of her swimming sex pie, making her dizzy like a child that has run purposefully in circles.
From this angle, she could see the big, hard wang that reamed her mother, the thick penis that was rooted tightly between her own father's hairy thighs. It was so big it made her gasp, and she flung her free hand to her mouth to stifle the sound lest they hear her. She had never imagined it could be so big! It was huge! Her cunnie jumped and thumped and all but screamed out for it. Yet it frightened her a little, for she could not imagine how all of it could fit up inside a woman. Her mother's sex lips were split widely, and the pumping, glistening wet organ disappeared magically in and out of her.
God, how she wanted to feel all that long, heavy length within her own dripping hole! She almost fell again, almost shivered and collapsed even thinking about it. And she did come, again and again as her body reacted to the sight before her and to the thought of being split up the middle by that long lovely root.
Her mother came, gurgling in ecstasy, and Lori had a sympathy climax in her own pretty little slot, all her folds of prick-milking love flesh rippling and contracting as she imagined being jammed full of the real thing instead of her own fingers. Cuntsop dribbled through her labia and ran down the insides of both her tightly drawn thighs, though the sensation was more sensuous than ticklish.
The couple changed positions again, with her father on top, and she knew that, now that her mother had come, the old man was going to work at blowing his own rocks. He fucked Lori's mother with a wild, slamming frenzy that took his woman over the top again too, then groaned and grabbed her big, jellied tits again as his balls jerked on their cords, wriggling visibly in the loose red sac that contained them. His ass cheeks jerked, twitched, and he was spitting his come into her sucking cunt, down into the hot, steamy depths of her.
Lori almost groaned out loud. She somehow managed to contain the rumbling cry of agonized envy.
Her father rolled off her mother, his still semi-turgid prick dripping thick strings of come across the woman's bare hip. The slimy stuff glistened in the amber light, and Lori wanted it within her, desperately wanted to feel the stinging heat of it burning down through the soft tunnel between her limber, young legs.
Her mother wiped the sperm up with her fingers and licked it away, grinning at Lori's father who was obviously excited by the scene. They rolled together to kiss and her mother's big tits mashed erotically against her father's thickly-haired chest. Strangely, she wanted to feel her mother as well as her father, to suck her mother's breasts and feel her between the legs. She fought off that vision, took one last look at her father's limp, wet dick, then hooked fingers around the door and drew it almost shut, hesitating to close it fully lest the click of the latch might be heard. She left it like that, hoping they would think they had forgotten to close it all the way, then stood, dizzy, and walked quietly back up the hallway towards her own room.
The board squeaked again. Again, they failed to hear it and did not come to investigate.
She reached her room and collapsed onto the bed, her nightie riding high on her hips, baring the furry patch of her creamy twat. She looked down at it, realizing it was still unsettled. Her legs felt like jelly, the backs of her knees all weak and nearly incapable of upholding her should she stand again. Her buttocks ached, as if someone had grasped the smooth fleshy moons of the cheeks and spread them harshly apart. Her firm, quivering titties were alive with sensuous desire, and her nipples were still as hard as steel. Her tummy fluttered, as if live thighs danced inside, and her cunt ached and dripped with hunger, the labia opening and closing like seeking lips.
Lori Phillips was quite aware that she was not going to be able to ignore her body and its demands much longer-if at all. She needed the heady, exhausting release of sex, good sex, healthy sex, with a probing penis sucking out the need within her and blowing thick gooey release into her inner sanctums. The time for childish things was over. She must put the pastimes of childhood aside. Her womanhood, yes, might have come too soon, but to pretend it had not come at all was only delusion and folly and would lead to more trouble in a long run.
It was a healthy decision, one her parents and the young people of their generation would have found difficult to make. For sex, then was still associated with sin, with something just a little dirty. To Lori, raised in the more liberal and less religiously-influenced sixties, sex was good, clean, a delightful and marvelous function of the body, surely as god-given as were the taste buds upon the tongue, the rod and cone cells within the eyeball. She wanted to enjoy this most supreme of blessings, and she knew she was distinctly well equipped for that. She had a body that most women would give anything for, and she was sure she could learn how to use it damn efficiently.
She ground her hips on the bed.
Her cunt opened closely, made a sucking noise.
She grinned.
Her womanhood had been accepted at last. She hoped the journey from girlishness to full adulthood would not be too painful, that it would be one hell of a lot of fun!
CHAPTER TWO
Two weeks later, Lori Phillips stood in the bathroom, applying the last touches of make-up. She required very little, for her face was a flawless piece of work. Her long, blond hair fell around it, framing it, contrasting marvelously with her deep tan. Her green eyes, an asset she had possessed since birth, were sparkling and alive and as erotic, in their curious gleam, as the breasts of lesser women. Her nose was pert, the nostril rims so finely sculpted that the entire nose seemed like a piece of delicate shell. Her mouth was full, ripe, the lower lip larger than the top. When she pursed her lips, she had a pout like Candy's. She smiled at her reflection and looked even more stunning than ever.
She wore a conservative blue sweater that nonetheless stretched over her full bra of edibles. Her slacks were tight, clinging to her round ass so that the delineation of her smooth buttocks cheeks was very nearly visible. Her thighs were outlined in exquisite detail, the rising mound of her young Venus strained against the material of the bell bottoms. It was the perfect seductive outfit, especially when she removed the bra-which she would do when she had left the house and was out of sight of her mother and father.
She allowed herself a delicious moment of anticipation for what she felt certain would transpire tonight. She had taken the situation into her own hands, without consulting with her parents, and she was certain she would experience her first, thrilling penetration tonight. They had only permitted her to date once or twice, both times with guys her own age, which turned her off completely, since she was mentally and emotionally a number of years their senior. Those dates had been total disasters, dates wherein a stolen kiss was considered daring. She had, once, touched a boy between the legs, and though he was hard as rock there, he sprang away from her, too frightened to make any advances or to let her make them. And the rules had remained: no dates older than you, Lori; no dates with fellas who have cars, Lori; no dates anywhere but to school functions, Lori.
How the hell could you get fucked at a school function? she wondered, then giggled aloud.
Tonight, she was going out with Robbie Marshall, who was a junior and had his own car, a four-year-old Ford that was rather neat, though Lori didn't much care what a car was like as long as it was clean and ran well. She had refused Robbie several times before when he had asked, knowing that her parents would say no. It had never dawned on her, before, to lie to her parents and meet him somewhere else. But now that she could no longer suppress her womanhood-and now that her parents still adamantly insisted to govern her like the child she was not-she was willing to tell untruths in order to take her first plunge into the delights of flesh on flesh.
She was certain Robbie would want to make it with her. Even in school, he could not keep his hands off her, touching her shoulders, her waist, now and then, as they talked outside, after classes, he would let his hands steal slightly upwards toward her heavy breasts, or down her back until they rested just at the beginning of her firm, high, round ass. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and it would take little urging to get him interested tonight. And, too, the grapevine had long ago filtered down-from older girls-that Robbie Marshall was a make-out artist first class, that he knew how to make and how to keep it hard so long he could wear a girl out.
Well, Lori thought, turning from the mirror and leaving the bathroom, she would just see who would wear whom out tonight!
She grabbed her purse in her room, checked to see if she had everything, then went downstairs. Her father was in the living room, reading the evening paper, and her mother was doing the last of the dishes, which she had been excused from tonight. She could not help, looking at her father, thinking about his huge, thick fuck muscle, the way it had reamed and torn her mother into spasming ecstasy. Her little twat grew damp, and she felt a desire to drop between his legs and free his heated beast, then climb aboard and go wild on it. She remembered Robbie Marshall, and her tummy fluttered and ached for his nakedness against her.
"Going out?" her father asked, looking up from the gloomy news of Tricky Dick's America.
She plopped into his lap and kissed his nose. "You know about it, and don't tell me you forgot," she said.
"But you're going out in those slacks?"
"Oh, now Daddy-"
"You looked poured into them."
"I'm just going out with the girls. To a movie."
"But do you have to-"
"Look," she said. "I'm not wearing anything low-cut, and some of them will be. And I'm not wearing a micro skirt this time, am I?"
"No, but-"
She kissed his nose again. "You want your only daughter to look like a dumpy broad?" she asked. She thought she could feel the stir of his cock beneath her ripe ass, then was sure of it when he blushed a little, pushed her off his lap, and said, "Well, okay."
She blew him a kiss and went into the kitchen, quite aware that his eyes, behind her, were riveted to the swinging rhythm of her high ass. She swung it a little more, just to get him excited. In the kitchen, she said goodbye to her mother, knowing her old man was going to come charging in and suggest they fuck the minute his daughter left.
Outside, the air was warm, and the late May evening was refreshing. She walked leisurely out of sight of the house, then ducked into Vine Street, which was actually an alley, slipped between two of the string of garages there, and worked her bra off from under her sweater, rolled it up and stuffed it in her purse.
She smoothed the sweater down, smiling at the tip-tilted mounds of her heavenly breasts. They had as good a shape without a bra as with, thrust out and up, the long nipples hard and peeking out at the world, their presence easily determined by the sharp pebbled nubs they made against the sweater cloth. They swelled even further, irritated by the material, and she chuckled happily as she set off toward the Pizza Palace where she was to meet Robbie Marshall.
The Palace was rather crowded, but she had no trouble at all getting through toward the booths at the rear where she was to meet Robbie. Every guy in the place was glad to step aside, if only to get a better look at her unconfined titties as she passed. They swung and jiggled, and the nipples announced to the world-by their very stiffness-that she was ready, willing, and abundantly able.
"Lori!" Robbie called, waving her to a booth he had been saving.
She went toward him, conscious of his roving glance which surveyed her body with the savoring pace of a connoisseur of women. He was both amazed and delighted by her unbraced knockers, and as she sat down, across from him, and the big globes jiggled she knew he must already be hard as brass between his legs. Her cunnie grew damp again with anticipation and a longing for the shuddering pleasure he could give her.
"A Coke? Some Pizza?" he asked.
"Just a Coke."
"Wait here while I get it."
"I didn't plan on going anywhere without you," she said.
A moment later, he returned with her Coke, set it before her and slid in on the same side of the booth. When their hips brushed, and his leg fell against hers, it was like an electric shock jolting through her, sparking in her nipples and her cunt. The nips grew even longer, visibly longer, and she hoped he saw this involuntary but sincere sign of her lust and need.
"Have any trouble with your parents?" he asked.
"No, they think I'm out with the girls."
"Were they planning to go anywhere tonight?" he asked. "Altoona, Pennsylvania, is just not that large a city, you know. I'd hate like hell to run into them. I wouldn't pass for a girl, I don't think."
"You wouldn't," she said, a low purring in her voice. "Don't worry. They're staying home."
"Where would you like to go?" he asked.
"To see that horror double feature," she said. "The two films with Christopher Lee in them."
"He's a knock-out," Robbie agreed. "Where they playing?"
"Hill Drive-In," she said.
He seemed to brighten even more. "We better go then. Finish your Coke. It's getting on toward sunset."
"And we wouldn't want to miss a minute of anything," she said, sucking up the last of her Coke and grinning at him ...
* * *
On the screen, Dracula rose from a satin-lined coffin that was spattered with traces of blood. His eyes were broken with bloody veins, and his sallow, thin face was split with a wicked leer cast in the direction of the fetching maiden that had been brought to the King of Demons by his aide, the corrupted priest. His fangs were yellow, wet with saliva, and very, very sharp.
Beyond the screen, traffic flowed smoothly on Plank Road, like little bits of light in some distant world.
In Robbie Marshall's car, a bubble of tense sexual excitement, Lori clung to the older boy, as if terrified by the film unreeling before them, her hands gripped his shoulder, her face hidden in the hollow of his neck. As the music built, she flung her arms around him and said, "Tell me when this part is over, when he's finished biting her."
"It's not that bad," Robbie protested, laughing at her feminine cowardice-well-planned feminine cowardice.
"I don't want to look," Lori said, pushing closer to him, until her unfettered tits mashed up against his side.
He seemed to stiffen for a moment, then relaxed and put his own arms around her. "I don't think I can watch either," he said, turning and placing his lips against hers, darting a tongue tentatively against her mouth.
"Ummmmm," she said. "That chases away the spooks." She thrust her tongue deeply into his mouth, dispensing with preliminaries. Tasting of his tongue and lips and teeth and gums, she made a prick of her tongue, punching it in and out in a parody of fucking.
Robbie held her a moment longer in that position as they kissed harder, more deeply, their young bodies flushed with a rush of blood that marked the intensity of their desire. His hands, finally, slid down from her shoulders, cupped her big breasts in his hands. His mouth sought hers more demandingly than ever as he played with the healthy knockers, and he seemed to be whimpering excitedly way down at the bottom of his throat. He shoved up the sweater, freed the heavy tits, and laid his hands on the warm, vibrant flesh of her young, exposed body.
He groaned softly, as she did, and she pressed the hot knockers hard against his fingers.
He thumbed the big nipples, made them harder than ever, and had her writhing against him on the seat. His hands were trembling, but there was no chance that he would back away. No chance at all. She was absolutely positive about that.
He lowered his head and licked her tits, lathered them with spittle until she was gasping and almost ready to come on the spot. She had never known she could feel this good just from having her nipples sucked. His teeth and tongue teased her into a frenzied need for the thrusting log of his young, smooth penis.
"Robbie ... Robbie ... " she wheezed, finding herself almost unable to speak.
"Do you want it, Lori?" he asked.
"Yes, yes."
"Christ, you're beautiful!"
"I want it, Robbie. I want fucked."
"Jesus!" he moaned, squeezing her tits, then dropping his hands and fumbling at the catch to her bell bottom jeans. He unzipped them with the expertise of a man used to shucking a good many women out of their clothes, slid them and the silken panties beneath down her long, perfect legs, off and onto the floor of the car. He chewed on her fuck-mound hairs for a while, licked her belly until she was moaning and twisting.
"Fuck me ... " she whispered.
"You'll have to get it out," he teased.
Her fingers danced along his trousers, opened them, pushed them and his shorts over his buttocks. His hard dick bounced free and flopped onto her thigh, the big purple head glistening with a drop of lubricant. The balls beneath were shaggy with hair, big and round in a loose red sac.
She wrapped a fist around the length of meat and closed her eyes, almost unable to believe that it had happened at last, that her moment of womanhood had arrived. He was not so large as her father, but formidable, and if he could keep it hard long enough, size would not matter at all, nothing would matter but keeping him in her.
"I'll do it without a rubber first," he said. "I have good control and won't shoot you full."
"Yes, yes," she said.
She stretched out upon the seat, her tits bared still as her sweater was shoved above them. She spread her marvelous young thighs, and the wet groove of her fuck-slot was a gaping mouth demanding to be fed.
"You're built so damned well!" he gasped, taking in the sight of her perfect body, holding his thick penis and pumping it with one hand as he knelt between her legs.
"Be careful," she said. "Be careful to start. I've never had it before."
He looked stunned. "You're a virgin?"
"But I thought it was time not to be," she said.
He groaned, tried to squeeze off the load of fuck cream that suddenly boiled out of his swinging nuts. He was not successful. The wet globs of hot come splattered over Lori's belly and tits. One jet of it slimed along her sweet face.
"God damnit!" she exploded, "you didn't even get it in me!"
CHAPTER THREE
Christopher Lee, masquerading on the screen as the nefarious and somewhat terrifying Count Dracula, scourge of the Transylvanian Alps and mentor of all apprentice vampires, was standing before his great, gloomy castle at the summit of the mountain overlooking the small, peasant village in the valley. Someone, apparently a priest, had slipped a cross into the door of his domicile, through the great iron handles, effectively barring his entrance-since, as we all know, vampires shy at the sight of a cross, unless they be Jewish or Moslem vampires, of which there are relatively few, judging by myths and legends, which usually recount stories of Christian blood-suckers only.
On the highway, beyond the theater screen, the cars of Altoona sped through the darkness, humming quietly to the crickets and the late spring insects.
In the car, parked in the theater lot, Lori Phillips lay naked with sperm clinging like white pudding to her belly and tits, dripping down one cheek onto the upholstery of Robbie Marshall's car.
"You're supposed to be able to hold it!" she groaned, her pussy running with sex juice, her tits aching and her asshole afire, every cell of her body hungering for the thick pumping fuck of his long penis.
"You're the hottest chick I've ever seen," he said, in way of apology, still holding his dripping male length in his hand, still kneeling between her perfect, taut legs, pointed at the furry twat that had so excited him that he had prematurely spilled his thick seed.
"Shit!" Lori said, disgusted.
"Don't get uptight, baby," he said. "If you'll notice, it's still hard as rock."
She stopped complaining, looked at the load of pumper he held in his hand. It was still long, hard, and throbbing, still erect as the miracle of youthful sexual potency had its effect. Come slimed the end of it, and she got that on her hand when she reached out and touched the steely length of pleasure stick.
"Put it in me!" she gasped, now hotter than ever, desperate for the lunging thrust of his cock.
"We have to clean you up first," he said.
"What?"
"The come. If it gets in that little cunt, you're knocked up, baby." He pulled a fistful of tissue from the box on the dispenser under the dash, wiped the globs of sperm off her tits and belly, cleaned her face. With a second fistful, he rubbed his prick clean of slime, then threw the musky tissues onto the floor and crawled forth between her legs.
"I can't believe you're only thirteen," he said.
"One month, and I'm fourteen," she said, rather defensively. She was tired of being reminded she was a child, when she wasn't and she especially didn't want to hear that now, here, at a moment like this.
Robbie brought his throbbing, heavy dick to the steaming opening of her damp vagina. He was a little surprised at the readiness of the fat organ. He was used to getting it hard again, shortly after the first come, and making it rise half a dozen times in one evening. But the damn thing hadn't even gone down this time! He decided that was nothing to his credit, but to Lori's credit. Damn, what a hot little piece of ass!
She put her hands on his shoulders, as if to force him into her box faster than he wished to go. But he ignored her urgings and set about it at his own pace. He knew that, now that he had spouted his come, he could hold out a very long time and drive her over the brink two or three times before he would need the rubber. He was going to tease her, to make her whimper for it, so that when he finally did sink home, breaking her tight little hymen, she'd blow her mind.
He rubbed the head of his prick against her slippery pussy lips, pushed the bulbous mantle in and felt her jerk and lunge beneath him as the first spasms of a real fuck shook her small yet opulently formed body. She was on the verge of climaxing already!
"Fuck me ... " she groaned, her face a mask of sensuous, writhing desire. "Stuff me full of cock."
"Christ," Robbie groaned, shoving the pulsing dick further in. He bumped the blunt tip into her virgin skin, and she squealed with pain.
"Break it!" she gasped.
He withdrew all but the last half inch of his hefty pecker, then pistoned his hips and slammed home, ripping through the barricade tissue and planting himself in Lori's creamy cunt, planting himself to the slapping globes of his big nuts.
Count Dracula, up there on the fantastic, wide-angle screen that constituted another reality in this existential world of individual cars and city beyond, was biting a girl in the neck. She had lovely, large tits, barely concealed by her nightgown, and one was tempted to conjecture on why the wicked Count did not sink his fangs into those lovely mammaries rather than a plain, ordinary, everyday neck. But the picture faded out on that, to a lonely figure walking the misty streets of the European city, as the dawn grew near and faint purple fingers of light stained the gothic night and the Carpathian-like scene of the medieval town. You just knew he was going to find the bitten girl, her neck ravaged. You just knew it. Any moment now. Any second now ...
"You've got the suckingest ... slimiest ... snatch ... " Robbie moaned, plummeting in and out of her joy hole with the abandon of a man caught up in the marvels of his lover's body and oblivious to the world around him, to everything but the co-joining of their wet crotches, to the slamming, sucking heaven of their sexual congress.
For Lori, it was heaven on earth, an unbelievably exciting plunge over a warm waterfall. It had hurt, at first, when his iron pecker had torn through her soft hymen, had made her weep a little blood down there for the loss of her virginity. But the pain had swiftly passed, like a freight train barreling through a crossing and disappearing into the silvered distance of the evening. Now, there was only a wild, joyous rippling of her fuck fleshes as her young body greedily devoured the first wang to penetrate it, the first hunk of male meat to give it the pleasure it had wanted so badly for such a long number of months.
She felt Robbie's full balls slapping against the rounded mounds of her young ass, and she was reminded of that scene she had witnessed when her father had been banging her mother that night she had sneaked down the hallway to spy on them.
Bang! went Robbie's nuts.
Big hairy nuts ...
"I'm coming," she groaned, her snatch rippling with a wild, spastic orgasm that stripped his hard penis so that he had to fight to hold down the surging come load in his testicles as her smooth-skinned body wiggled under him ...
* * *
On the highway, the cars continued ...
A truck went by, its great racket echoing dimly up to the drive-in theater ...
And on the screen, the hero was trekking up the side of the mountain which held Count Dracula's castle, a great blotch of ugliness upon the Transylvanian landscape. The heroine, the lover of this hero, had been abducted by the evil vampire king, and was being carried up to the castle. Since she was the niece of the priest who had blocked the door of Dracula's castle with a cross, she would have the power to remove it and allow the monstrous Count entrance to his den of iniquity and anti-Christianity. The hero struggled and struggled, slipping off rocks, almost falling, frantic that he should reach them and destroy Dracula before the lovely heroine was taken into the sanctum sanctorum of hell and turned into a blood-sucking beast exactly in the image of the Count himself ...
Robbie gasped at the sucking heat of the young girl's surging quim tunnel, his body wracked with shuddering waves of pleasure at the wet depths of her delightful cunt. He had never fucked any girl quite this good, and he could not conceive of what she would be like as she grew older and learned and developed her sex techniques. She was better than any girl he had fucked, and she was having her first relation this moment!
"I feel the head ... of your cock ... up against my womb hole," she groaned as he slammed the thick pecker deep into her sex pudding, driving her suddenly across the brink into another long, wet come. Her cuntsop ran down her thighs, slimed his heavy nuts and the meshed bushes of pubic hair that belonged to both of them.
He felt his nuts boiling with come.
He pulled out of her, flopped on her belly, and squirted a thick wad of jism up her super-heated flesh to the base of her thrusting tits, whimpering loudly, without restraint as his spasming orgasm hit him like a sledgehammer and drove him into spastic uncontrol of his body.
The slimy sperm gurgled between them, was pressed from between their bodies and ran down the sweet girl's sides, puddling on the seat where she rolled in it and smeared it along her buttocks cheeks.
On the screen, Dracula fell over the balustrade of the castle and was speared by the cross below, speared through his villainous and blackly evil heart. Blood-the blood of his helpless victims which now circulated in his own rotted veins-pumped out of him as he staggered about, refusing to die. A refusal that was only folly. He collapsed, within sight of the corrupt priest who had been aiding him but who had now found his God again and was into the proper bag for salvation. The priest only repeated the Lord's Prayer, while the heavens danced with lightning and Count Dracula collapsed into dust, dead at last after centuries of ruthless murder and the converting of good souls into evil ...
Through the intermission, when everyone else was on their way to the refreshment stand for popcorn and Cokes and hot dogs and French fries and the other tons of shit America seems to be able to digest through simple courage-and not a little smattering of ignorance-Lori Phillips was playing with Robbie's flaccid wang, which was warm and sticky in her hand. She had pulled her sweater down to cover her hot, hard-nippled tits, but wore nothing below the waist. If someone passed too close to the car going down, and managed to see through the steamed windows, they would see two apparently dressed youngsters. The shadows concealed their exposed genitals, concealed her busy hand in his baggage and concealed his fingers which lazily twisted her thick mound of pubic hair into curls.
"I never thought it would be quite that good," she said.
"The best is yet to come."
"I think the best has come!" she said, chuckling, as she raised her spermy fingers into the light where the essence of his sex gleamed prettily, like honey. The smell of come was strong in the car, and it excited Lori more and more. The intermission was like a torture, a time when they could not fuck, waiting for darkness. Each minute was an hour, or so it seemed as her cock-hungry pussy cried for more reaming.
"I don't mean spunk," he said. "You're going to get some watery loads from now on. But now that the edge has been taken off the need, I'll be able to keep him bigger, longer."
She squeezed the weakened penis, grinning at him. "I want it for all of the next movie. I want fucked for an hour and a half, fucked and fucked ... " She kissed him, playing with his dong, feeling it grow larger, stiffer, useable once again.
"Thirteen," he wheezed, running hands under her sweater for a long caress of her bared tits.
"Almost fourteen," she countered.
"You have the tightest cunt," he said, almost to himself, almost to the night, dreamily.
"All for you."
"Lovely lickable tits," he said.
Then the intermission was over, and the lights went out and the next movie rose on the screen, a Peter Cushing Frankenstein flick. The credits dripped across the screen in blood red ...
"Now, Robbie, now!" she gasped, lying down on the car seat. "Ram your wang into me."
He dragged the blood-gorged dick up her smooth, girlish-womanly legs, rubbed it at her wet puss, then fucked it home with an eagerness and determination reserved only for the young and the energetic, balls a furious slapping spectacle against her hot, round, high ass.
He grabbed her perfect ass cheeks and raised them off the seat as he worked the probing shaft of his thick penis into her quivering fuck-pot as if it were a flashlight and he were shining it around in a dark place in search of something important-in this case, in search of surging, climaxing joy. He sank the hard meat home further than ever, felt her young twat blow with another come, her seething juices boiling out of her deepest recesses and pouring over his prick, slopping out of her puffy labia with each outward stroke he made, running down his balls.
She pushed her sweater up, grabbed her own tits, and began rubbing them frantically, tweaking the dark nipples until they were impossibly long, until Robbie Marshall longed to suck and chew them. But he knew she was getting more by his massaging her ass and fucking her and her own sex play with those magnificent breasts, and he did not change the position.
On the screen, a reputable-looking London gentleman was on his way home through dark, mist-shrouded, cobble-stoned streets of an old, 18th Century section of the city. He wore a cape, a hat, and smoked a pipe. He carried a cane. The very picture of a sophisticated intellectual. He did not know-and, surely, could not be expected to know-that Baron Victor von Frankenstein, was out that night, walking the streets of the city in search of parts for the creation of his latest monster. He seemed, now, to need a head for the eyes and other nerve clusters his creation could hardly be expected to do without. Unfortunately for the sophisticated, cape-wearing and pipe-smoking gentleman on his way home, but fortunately for Victor von Frankenstein, their pathways crossed there in the dank cobblestones. From his place of hiding, the Baron swung a specially sharpened sickle, slicing neatly-or bloodily, depending on your ability to disassociate yourself from the violence of second-hand entertainment media- through the gentleman's neck, lopping his stately head from his shoulders ...
"UNNGGHHH ..," Lori Phillips groaned as the pistoning dork within her pudding reached new and exciting depths, seemed bigger and harder than ever as Robbie had promised it would.
Her tits felt like they were exploding.
She was certain her nipples were popping off.
His cock was going to punch holes in her lungs.
It was going that deep.
Or seemed to be.
"What a fucker," he groaned, heaving his burning root in and out of her quim.
On the screen, a burglar was trying to break into the basement quarters that Victor Frankenstein had rented to continue his experiments in the creation of life after being run out of nearly every nation in Europe in the last dozen Hammar Frankenstein Films. Little did he know-and, again, there was no reason he should know, really, him not being a watcher of the movie, but a participant-that Victor Frankenstein was presently on his way home, carrying the society gentleman's bloody head in a bucket with a wooden lid.
Lori Phillips had a come.
When she was finished spasming in her drippy hole, Robbie withdrew his red penis from her sucking slot and urged her to roll over. He worked the bloated prick into her cunt from the back, giving her an entirely new set of sensations as she was driven down into the car seat by his lunging, frantic fuck strokes.
"Jesus, what a big lovely wang!" she squealed as he reamed her, her tits mashed against the hot vinyl seat covers.
On the screen, Baron von Frankenstein was walking purposefully along the wet streets, the bucket swinging at his side, while the burglar was still burgling, trying to break through the door. The camera cut back and forth, and at last the thief heard the click of the maniac's footsteps. Still unaware that the footsteps belonged to the man who owned or rented this basement hideaway, the thief finally managed to break into the place, closing the door behind. In moments, he realized that he had made a mistake, for-as the maniac Frankenstein was entering, the thief came across the half completed monster the mad doctor was in the process of manufacturing in this strange little cottage industry he had going for himself. The thief screamed in terror, knocked over a chair-alerting the mad doctor to his presence ...
Lori never wanted the delicious fucking to cease.
She wanted it forever, hot cock in her cunt forever and ever and just until she passed out and could not take any more of it.
He had a lovely cunt-pumper.
She thought of her father.
She wished she could let Robbie come in her cunt, feel his burning seed in her hole. But she couldn't get knocked up. So she would have to be satisfied with feeling the scorching stuff splatter across her belly and tits.
"Fuck harder!" she demanded.
He complied, summoning energy from the last kegs of it, down deep in his guts somewhere.
On the screen, the Baron von Frankenstein, played by Peter Cushing with marvelous wickedness, was engaged in a wild fight with the thief. They careened about the room, and in the process, kicked over the bucket containing the bloody head of the mad doctor's latest victim. The grizzly sight solicited more screams from the relatively innocent thief. The head rolled over and over across the floor, leaving a red trail. In a moment of sheer terror, the adrenalin flowing wildly through his veins, the thief managed to free himself from the doctor's clutches and gain his freedom into the dark-and now horror riddled-London night ...
"FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF ME!" Lori Phillips gasped, bouncing up to meet the downward thrust of his thick male root as it reamed her soupy fuck-pot with unrestrained furor.
Her butt slapped his belly.
Her tits slammed into the seat each time she collapsed under his punishing strokes.
She was slobbering with joy, face mashed to the seat.
She came.
"FUCK, BALL, HUMP, FUCK ... " she chanted, almost delirious now.
Then he pulled his dick out of her, fell on her.
"Spit it," she groaned.
He did.
A hot, thin watered stream of sperm spat up between the halves of her ass, up her back with so much force it reached her neck, as if someone had a finger up the boy's asshole, tickling his prostate gland.
They collapsed into exhaustion and the smell of sperm and cunt juice as Baron Frankenstein hastily evacuated his now uncovered basement lair ...
CHAPTER FOUR
Although Lori's parents were not about to permit her to go out with boys older than she, she was permitted the company of girls in higher classes. One of her friends was Shana Alexandro, a Senior who would graduate next week and go on to college in the fall. She was a lovely, dark-haired, olive-skinned Greek girl, the prettiest girl in school, most everyone thought. Four nights after her first sexual joys with Robbie Marshall, Lori had Shana over for the night. There were two buckets full of ice, several six packs of Coke, and mounds of food-potato chips, pretzels, crackers, cheese-in Lori's room, along with a number of games, one of the portable television sets, a radio, the stereo that was always there, and stacks of magazines of all sorts. They could get settled in the room and make a marathon night of it without ever having to be bothered by the adults, as young girls usually like.
In truth, Lori Phillips was looking forward to more than mere comradeship, magazine reading, conversation, eating, and record-listening. Ever since she had watched her mother fucking her father, had seen that lovely naked body, she had been more aware of the beauty of the girls around her. She wondered what it would be like to make love to a woman, and tonight she thought she very well might find out. And there was no more beautiful lover of the same sex a girl could wish for than Shana Alexandro.
At seven-o'clock, Shana arrived, and Lori's mother shouted an announcement of the dark girl's presence as Shana came up the steps and through the door. Lori grabbed her, hugged her, kissed her directly on the mouth as she said, gleefully, "I'm glad you got here. We're going to have a great time!"
Shana seemed surprised by the kiss, then grinned. She was dazzlingly beautiful. She was wearing shortest of shorts, her long brown legs like something boys conjured up in wet dreams. She wore a blue tee-shirt, sans bra, and her lovely, big tits, much larger than Lori's, were beautifully detailed against the tight garment.
They listened to records, exchanged stories about other girls that neither of them could stand, argued about some points of literature in books they had both read, a wide area for conversation, since both of them read extensively outside the classroom.
Lori wore a shortie nightgown, one that buttoned up the front. She wore it sans panties, and with the top two buttons open, thereby showing a flash of cunt thatch now and then, and the rounded hillocks of her titties nearly all the time. Shana slipped into pajamas, though she opted not to wear the panties, perhaps because of Lori's insistence that she be comfortable. She was so abundantly curved and blessed with perfect skin and features that Lori felt her cunt getting hot and damp at the prospect of spending the night loving this marvelous woman-girl.
When Lori's parents said goodnight and closed the door to their bedroom down the hall, Lori felt a burden raised from her shoulders. She felt free, now, to slowly lead the older girl to what she wished. She began by touching Shana, as if unconsciously, laying her hand on the other girl's bare thigh as they squatted on the floor, listening to music. The feel of the soft, warm flesh drove her mad with desire.
"Hey," Shana said, as conversation drifted into more intimate pathways-as is the wont at girls' parties when the hour gets late and the parents are safely in bed, "is it true about you going out with Robbie Marshall?"
"Well, what's being said?" Lori asked coquettishly.
"That you went out with him."
"I did."
"Your parents-"
"Don't know!" Lori gasped. "And don't tell them!"
"But you really did?"
"Really did."
"But you know his reputation," Shana said.
"That's why I went out with him?"
"Huh?"
Lori gripped Shana's thigh again. "Now, we're both grown-up girls, and I shouldn't have to explain things to you."
"You let him-"
"I encouraged him," Lori interrupted.
They both laughed, hugging each other.
"He's really well-equipped," Shana said.
"And he knows how to use it."
"It's a smooth cock," Shana said. "Some boys have twisty ones, with goose pimples on them. Or things like goose pimples. But Robbie's is just so big and clean and smooth."
"How often have you made it with him?" Lori asked, feeling at least a little jealous, though she knew that was foolish.
"Five or six."
"I sure want it again."
"How many times did he come with you?"
"Well he shot all over me before he even got it in me the first time!"
"You're a very hot little chick," Shana said.
"But then he tore hell out of my pussy. He fucked off four loads on my belly and one on my back."
"You must be sore as hell!" Shana gasped, laughing.
"I was for two days. It's better now. See?" she lifted her gown and spread her legs, exposing her hairy fuckpie.
They laughed again, and Shana patted Lori's tight little box with affection. "So you're a woman now."
"Though my folks wouldn't admit it."
"My folks were that way for a long time."
"How'd you cope?" Lori asked.
"Oh, eventually, they decided I was a woman, because I had the body of a woman and seemed to act mature."
"But I act mature."
"It always takes parents longer than most to notice that," Shana said consolingly.
"But they can't help but notice my body. My father gets hard over it when I purposefully tease him."
"No shit? So does my old man, though he'd never let on in a thousand goddamned years."
"But when will they at least notice my body?" Lori asked.
"Go without a bra and wear sexy clothes."
"They'll kill me!"
"No. They'll not like it. But it will start to sink in to them that you're not a baby any longer."
"Yeah, but it would have been easier for you," Lori protested. "You're really built, with those big boobs and all."
"You'll grow more tit, I think," Shana said. "If you're this much of a knockout already, you'll be sexier than I am in another year."
"I doubt that."
"Sure you will. Now, you going out with Robbie again?"
"Tomorrow night," Lori said, grinning.
"Drive-in again?"
"That's it."
"Horny little bitch, aren't you?" Shana said, chuckling.
"Horny, horny, and hornier. I've determined that I'm going to try everything there is to try in sex-except sado-masochism and that bag. I don't believe in sex that's painful. But everything else."
"That's why you kissed me?" Shana asked.
Lori blushed, felt a moment of confusion. Then: "Frankly, yes."
Surprisingly, Shana moved next to her, matched her lovely mouth to Lori's and licked deep into the younger girl's mouth with a tongue that was sharp and quick and demanding. Lori could feel the big, unconfined tits of the other girl pressing against her, and she slipped hands between them and clutched the lovely globes through Shana's pajama tops.
"Oh, you feel that way too," Lori said when the kiss broke.
"I can take AC or DC, Lori," Shana said. "Any girl who doesn't is missing a hell of a lot of fun!"
"I want to taste your cunt," Lori said, unabashed, straight-forward, expressing her eagerness with blunt words.
"And I want to lick the piss out of that little slot of yours," Shana affirmed.
"God, you're lovely."
"Not as lovely as you, Lori."
"Yes. Lovelier."
"Should we get undressed?" Shana asked.
"That's not going to be much trouble," Lori said, grinning, shucking her gown in a moment, and lolling with her back against the bed, sitting on the floor, her glorious body bared for the other girl's pleasure.
Then Shana was naked too, and pressed Lori down, stretched upon her on the floor, their lovely, nude bodies tangled in warmth and anticipation of ecstasy. Tits mashed to tits ... Mouth to mouth ... fuck thatch to fuck thatch as they ground their hips tentatively together.
"This is going to be good," Lori said breathlessly.
"I'll eat you first," Shana said.
She started down the younger girl's body, licking and kissing her titties, her belly, the thick patch of pubic hair. She licked that until it dripped saliva, then licked all around the young girl's pubes until Lori was almost insane with the need to be lapped and chewed and thoroughly sucked off.
"Hurry!" she said to Shana.
The older girl lowered her mouth toward the sopping cunnie labes that quivered for the touch of her.
Lori Phillips tensed for another leap into sexual maturity, for another step accomplished on her odyssey into womanhood ...
CHAPTER FIVE
When Shana Alexandro's hot mouth kissed Lori's cunt lips, the girl exploded with a wet come that had her groaning and writhing sensuously upon the bed like a cat creature, a seductive, inhuman succubus whose form was too magnificently erotic to possibly belong to a mere human being.
"You're coming already, darling," Shana said, sniffing the fluid which gleamed wetly on the precious young girl's hot fuckpie labes, that dribbled out and beaded on her thick pubic thatch.
"Oh, Shana ... eat my cunt ... "
Shana came forward, licked experimentally at the pulsing brown-pink labia, cleaning the spilled cuntsop up, savoring the taste of it. "You keep yourself clean. Boys will like that when they eat you out."
Lori pushed her hot crotch against the older girl's face, ground her steaming meat at Shana's mouth.
"Yes, yes. I'll eat your twat, precious."
"Ooohhhhhh ... " Lori gasped as Shana parted the labia with her tongue and teased into the burning channel of her quim, licked around at the swollen button of her clit, which was so large it was almost distended through the labia themselves.
Shana's hands grasped the girl's ass, raised it so that she might lick deeper into the come pie between the long, kicking legs.
The torture of Shana's mouth, of her teeth and lips and tongue and breath, was something more than joy and more than pain, a combination of both of them. She made Lori come three times beyond that first, premature spasm of her slippery cunt, and would not let her up until she had exhausted her. She nibbled the hard clit with teeth that were just on the edge of being too rough, sent her tripping on clit and vaginal orgasms coupled together like cars of a train. She licked deep, her entire face shoved into the dripping fulcrum, her cheeks and nose wet with cuntsop and her own spittle. She cooed to Lori, told her what a lovely, wonderful twat she had. She blew air into the girl's vagina, blew it full and tight so that Lori was coming from yet another type of sensation. She licked backwards from the hot cunt of the thirteen-year-old, licked at her asshole until Lori was gurgling excitedly, almost in time with the Jefferson Airplane which was playing on the stereo then. Shana worked a long finger into the girl's asshole, wriggled it back in that forbidden channel, driving Lori into undulating climaxes that swept over her with the regularity of wave after of wave of ocean water.
"Shana ... oh, lovely Shana ... "
The Jefferson Airplane ceased.
Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young began playing. "Wooden Ships" seemed the perfect song for cunt-licking, Lori thought. She floated on the softest, dreamiest cloud of marshmallow as Shana finished up with her, chewing and tonguing her into a final, even wilder, more thorough come that left her beautiful body shivering and weak.
* * *
Lori's mother stuffed her husband's cock into her cunt, slid down on it as he lay on his back, looking up at her big tits. He was bigger than usual tonight, a great pole of cock flesh that seemed to thrust to the top of her head. She felt that, if she opened her mouth, the bulbous cap of his dong would be visible at the back of her throat and that it would spit sperm into her mouth from the inside.
He reached up and grabbed her tits, squeezed them as she worked her cunt around and around on his enormous wang, gurgling with joy as she stripped his dick with the sweet folds of her practiced, slippery twat.
As he lay there, he closed his eyes.
For a moment he imagined this was Lori, his daughter ...
He thought of being in her pretty little furry hole ...
He almost blew a wad thinking of it.
Embarrassed, he opened his eyes and concentrated on his wife. She was a beautiful woman. And when she had come, he rolled over and drove his meat spike into her box with fury, until she was clawing his back and making strange, strangled cries of excitement, coming and coming.
He fucked spunk deep into her slot.
The gooey juice splashed into the opening of her womb, slimed the walls of her cunt, and drained the last spark of energy out of both of them ...
* * *
Lori tasted the first droplets of Shana's wonderful cunt liquids and rolled the fluid about on her tongue. It was not exactly pleasant, yet certainly not unpleasant either. And it was unquestionably erotic. It electrified her, made her hunger after more of it. She looked at the gaping wound of Shana's twat, at the pulsing red fuck fleshes beyond, and she shivered with anticipation. She rubbed her tits against the bigger girl's legs, let the hard nipples graze her soft flesh, then nuzzled the cunt before her with her nose. The musky smell of sop reminded her of Robbie's sperm, the salty, semi-sweet odor of it in the car, in the drive-in that night which seemed only yesterday and seemed, at the same moment, to have transpired a half a million years ago.
She found Shana's clit and licked it until the dark, Greek beauty was bucking and moaning softly, deep in her slender, brown throat. She ate the flush of sex juice that accompanied Shana's come, chewed the clit with her teeth. She licked deep into the hairy twat, then licked the girl's asshole as Shana had taught her, fingered it open, worked a thumb in there while her tongue returned to wipe into the undulating channel of the older girl's pulsing womanhood.
"You're ... very good ... " Shana encouraged her.
She smiled.
She stopped eating and rammed two fingers into Shana's pie, felt for the lump of her own thumb which was still rammed up Shana's asshole. She felt it, and when she worked ass-thumb and cunt-fingers together, the big girl came so thoroughly and at such length that she finally gave a muffled little yelp to announce the peak of her sexual excitement, and passed into a dead faint.
When she woke, some minutes later, Lori was still between her legs, eating her box with unrestrained enthusiasm, with long, stinging licks of her swift tongue.
Throughout the night, they matched mouth to mouth, mouth to cunt, and found the ecstasy of flesh on flesh ...
CHAPTER SIX
The first week of June, Lori Phillips' mother went home to spend time with Lori's grandparents. It was a yearly expedition, which Lori was usually forced to accept as part of her own duties to the elders of the family, even though she found both grandparents rather intellectually vacuous and fifty years behind the times. Besides that, her mother's father was a right-wing politico, despite his sixty years, and that was one thing Lori could not hack, no matter how many times her mother told her to ignore it and concentrate on her grandfather's good qualities, which were supposed to be hard work, faithfulness to his wife, and a sound religious belief. But Lori didn't give a fuck about any of those, actually. And this year, she thanked every god in her pantheon, she was not being forced to go along. She was supposed to spend the summer-until mid-August-with her Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin, her mother's brother and his wife, in New York City. Naturally, she had a great deal of preparations to make, but she exaggerated those preparations until her mother suggested maybe she should stay home to get them done. It was what she had hoped for, and it worked. Sometimes, adults could be so easily maneuvered it frightened her. If she saw it, certainly the government saw it-which explained why they juggled people and still managed to keep the super-patriots and other assholes on their side.
Her mother left on a Sunday, taking the second car, a battered VW that was nevertheless in excellent running condition. On Tuesday night, it happened, for it was that night that her father spent bowling with the men he ran around with, and he came home-as usual, as he had so many other Tuesday nights-drunk. He was not a bad man and not a constant drinker; indeed, most weeks he never had anything to drink other than on Tuesday night. And he never came home falling down drunk. He did not have the constitution for that. After a few drinks, he got rather hazy about detail, confused, unable to tell people apart or remember names. If he drank anything after that, he simply passed out and slept it off.
Tuesday night, Lori was sitting in bed, at a quarter until two in the morning, reading a suspense novel. She was taking advantage of the summer now that school had been out last Friday and it was no longer necessary to go to that shitty school every morning at a quarter until eight. She was near the end of the fourth chapter when she heard the front door open, after a bit of fumbling, and remembered that he would be coming home soused again, or at least on the verge of it. She got up and went to the head of the stairs to make sure he made it on his own, an amused smile on her face. He was such a pathetic man when drunk, and she loved him so much-despite his sternness as a father-that she could only look upon such a scene with an air of amused tolerance.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, swaying and looked at them as if he were uncertain as to how they should be negotiated. He did not see her yet, and she decided to enjoy a little bit more of the spectacle before informing him of her presence.
He was singing "Scarborough Fair" under his breath. At least, she thought, he did not lose his taste for good music when he was potted.
He started up the stairs, gripping the railing, and made pretty good time, though he stopped now and then to look around himself, as if he wondered how he had gotten to this place, in this time, at this point in his life: very philosophical scowls, like you see on those statues of famous Greeks that they erect in the park for pigeons to use as shitting roosts and mate-making spots.
"Well," Lori said as he came up the last few steps, still unaware of her presence, "congratulations for a job well done, Mr. Phillips. Very few men-even brave men-would have attempted to negotiate that treacherous ascent in your condition."
He looked up, grinned, and grabbed her, though he grabbed her in a way he had never touched her before, crushing her against him, her tits mashed flat to his chest, his hands squeezing her ass, which was bare beneath the gown she wore.
Her cunnie exploded as she felt the large bulk of his semi-erect penis as he ground his pelvis against her, and she came with only that little bit of distant crotch friction. She did not know whether to scream or to cooperate. Suddenly, she remembered how much she had wanted to feel his dick probing her as it probed her mouth, and the thought of having him, even drunk as he was, was almost too much to bear.
"Is she asleep?" he asked, his hands, working the mounds of her ass as he swayed against her. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was still a marvelously handsome man.
"Is who asleep?" Lori asked, unable to comprehend what he was talking about.
"The kid, Lori."
She realized, then, that he was too groggy to remember exactly what the situation at home was. He thought that this was his wife, in his heavily inebriated state, and that Lori was down the hallway, in her room. She wondered whether she should lead him on, should try for a taste of her first adult cock. She knew it was much, much larger than Robbie Marshall's wang, and she grew weak when she thought how much better it ought to be.
"Is she?" he asked. He slipped a hand between her legs, into her bare crotch, and finger-fucked her dripping cunt with a wild, flicking digit, making her fall against him and clutch him as her slot spasmed with minor comes.
"Hey, baby, you're hot!" he gasped, working the finger even faster.
"She's asleep," Lori managed to gasp. "Fuck me," she moaned, not caring about anything now but breaking the taboo, freeing herself from yet more sexual hang ups. She wanted her Daddy, but as a lover might want him, hard and plunged to the center of her soupy fuckpie.
He took her hand and placed it on his crotch.
His cock was rock hard now.
"Like it?" he asked.
"Yes, yes. Soon, please."
He tried to lift her, but they both almost fell down, and at last they walked into her parents' bedroom, where he flopped onto the mattress and looked up at her. "Don' know if I can," he said thickly. "Awful dizzy and silly feeling, honey."
"You can," she said, turning on the amber bedside light.
"For a shor' time," he said. "Only a shor' time."
She unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off him, though he did not offer much help. Her heart was thumping wildly, and her cunt was flowing over with thick, creamy female sop as she contemplated his reaming meat inside her little fuckhole.
"Beauaful," he mumbled. "Yer beauaful tonigh'. "
She worked his belt loose, pulled down his zipper. She pulled his trousers to his ankles, then took off his shoes and socks before stripping the pants completely away. She grabbed his shorts next, the kind of boxer shorts she hated to see on young men, hesitated as she considered what she was doing. Then a desire for him overcame that consideration, and she peeled the shorts away, baring her father's hot cock and the bloated sac of his huge nuts.
"Suck it, baby," he said, grasping her head and pulling her down toward the stiff iron penis hobbling before her.
She resisted at first, never having sucked a cock. She did not know whether she could do it, and she was afraid she would gag and disappoint him.
"Suck it!" he urged, pushing up from the hips as he forced her head down. The smell of his balls and cock excited her so much she broke the hesitation.
"It's beautiful," she said, meaning it, taken with his large prick. It was all of eight inches long, a big, pleasing length of pussy fucker. His balls were each as large as a large plum, in a sac so hairy she could barely see the skin of it.
"It wans yer mouth," he said slowly, thickly.
It did, too. A big bead of come had welled up in the meatus slit and gleamed like a pearl. She licked the hot bead away, shivered at the taste of it, then licked the bulging purple cap like a child greedily devouring a popsicle.
He pushed the meat forward and shoved several inches into her mouth. The blunt end of his fucking tool bumped against the back of her throat, and she quickly angled her head to accept it better. It wasn't gagging at all! Loved sucking the big dork!
"Oh, Mother of God!" he said, humping the wang into his daughter's face.
"Unnhhhhhh ... " Lori moaned as her pussy spasmed while she sucked the monstrous organ. She took it on deep, thrilling trips into her mouth, using tongue and teeth (but those only gently) and lips and cheeks to work the massive cock as she would have if she had had it in her cunt, buried to the nuts between her legs.
"Eat it ... eat it ... cocksucker ... eat it" he was gasping as she sucked him off with the greatest mouth job he had ever felt. Dimly, in the recesses of his alcohol fogged mind, he realized she was so much better than his wife that it could almost not be his wife. But he didn't want to think about that-so he didn't.
Lori was aware that he was close to coming-and that she was giving him better head than he had ever experienced. He kept telling her so, over and over, that she was going to suck his goddamned bones right out, and she was thrilled that she was making a grown man more excited than a grown woman, at least her mother and the other women he had known, had ever been able to do. She flashed her tongue back and forth under the sensitive head of the big dick as he pumped it marvelously in and out of her mouth, grabbed his hairy nuts and rolled them gently in their sac as she ate his meat, urging his sperm out of their spherical receptacles. She did not know whether she could swallow a whole load of sperm, though she was more than willing to try it. She sucked, sucked, sucked ...
"Come ... gonna come, baby ... " he moaned, twisting on the sheets as his long fucker pulsed with the spasms of his climax.
Lori held the tip of his prong between her lips, jerked the great iron length with her hands, and was rewarded by thick wads of come that blew into her pretty little mouth, the sweet essence of his testicles feeding her. It was this seed that had made her, she realized, and as the gooey spunk gushed into her mouth, that thought sent her into another minor cunt spasm of joy. She tried to swallow the steaming seed, but he unloaded three wild jets of slop and the large amount of the come made it impossible to swallow it as swiftly as it was delivered unto her. Strings of it ran out the corner of her mouth, dripped off her chin and spattered on his hairy thighs. But she gobbled up the most of it, sucked and sucked until he had not even a bit of lubricant to follow it. She wiped her chin, licked that off her fingers, then went down and licked the spilled cream off his bare legs.
"Suck me hard so I can fuck you," he urged her, his drunkenness now compounded by a sexual fervor that made him half delirious-just as Lori was half delirious herself.
She put his cock in her mouth, all the soft length of it, wallowed it about. On inspiration she separated his big nuts and placed one of them in her mouth at a time, wallowing the hairy globes about until his prick began to show signs of some life.
She licked his asshole, drove a finger so deep he began to beg her not to stop. But she knew he would spit come across the damn room if she teased his prostate much longer-because his hot dick was now fully erect again, a bulging, beating monster of mottled brown and red, stabbing at the ceiling from between his legs like some artist's conception of a phallic symbol to end all phallic symbols. Now that he had spilled his wad and had more control over the instrument, it had swelled even larger than before until it looked as if the spongy flesh beneath would burst through the tightly stretched skin any moment now.
"Climb on ... " he said. "Tha' cunt needs fucking ... "
"It sure does!" Lori said. But she knew he would fuck his spunk into her, think she was her mother, and she could not afford to be knocked up by her own father. She knew her mother-always a pessimist when it came to the effectiveness of modern drugs-kept a vaginal foam for use in conjunction with her birth control pills. She hopped off the bed, stripped off her pajamas, opened the nightstand and found the can. She sat on the bed, spread her legs, and discharged an enormous amount of the cold foam into the sucking depths of her thermal sex pudding.
She put the foam away, rolled onto the bed, on her back. "You put it in me to begin with," she said.
He grinned, still drunk, arid climbed onto her. He rubbed his dick against her face, pressed it in her hair while his heavy balls hung against her nostrils, giving her another heady whiff of his slightly unclean but thoroughly musky sex. Then he pressed the burning cock against her eyelids, her lips, rubbed it on her neck. He bunched her tits together and stroked it between them as if he were buried in her pussy. He closed his eyes, enjoying it, and she was enjoying like all hell, too!
He punched it at her bellybutton, came at last to her slot. He reached fingers into his daughter's pool of sex juice and slimed his dick until he was ready to enter her, then inserted the tip between her puffed labes and, with one strong, sure movement, fucked his thick meat as deeply into her as it was possible to put it, deeper than Robbie Marshall had ever gotten that night at the Drive-in.
"Mother of God, you're cunt is tight, honey!"
"Faster," she urged. "Fuck, fuck it faster!"
He laughed, built a more strenuous rhythm of slamming balls and cock that had his lovely little daughter bucking and coming and crying out so loudly that, had there been anyone anywhere at all in the house, they would have heard her squeals of joy plainly. She could not imagine how her mother managed to keep her cries below the threshold of screams. He had a wonderful big wang, and he obviously knew exactly how to use it!
"Oh, Daddy ... Daddy ... " she groaned as she lost control of her body and came and came to the punishing attack of his sliding tool.
He did not notice, but humped her with renewed strength, humping until she thought she could not take another come, that another climax would blow her sweet box to smithereens. Then he gasped, grabbed her tits, rose, biting his lips, and poured the chugging wads of his second climax into her pretty hole, deep into her soft, wet tissues where the foam ate it and broke it down and destroyed it before it could fertilize the egg she carried.
He fell off her then, rolled onto his back, and was asleep in less than two seconds.
Lori lay there, panting, her heart in her throat. Christ what a great fuck that had been! It was worth five of Robbie Marshall's! She dropped a hand to her tender pussy and brought it away slimed with his come. She used sphincter muscles to cut off the opening of her furry hole and kept the globs of foam and sperm from staining the bedclothes. She got up, her legs like strings of spaghetti, and picked up his clothes threw them on a chair as if he had come home, stripped, and fallen instantly into sleep.
She licked his limp dick free of come, dried it in her long blond hair, kissed it tenderly. She picked up her pajama tops, turned out the light, left the room, closing the door behind, and walked, somewhat bow-legged, back to her room where she slept the sleep of angels.
In the morning, he seemed to remember none of it, though he asked her whether he came in late last night and what condition he was in. When she said she hadn't noticed, but had been asleep, he seemed relieved. He apologized for it, which was not necessary. His dick had apologized more than all the words he could say. Her cunnie still thrilled at the thought of how he had felt buried to the balls in her dripping sex ...
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lori Phillips looked forward to a summer in New York City, if only because she was certain there would be more sexual scenes to become involved with there than back in Altoona, Pennsylvania. And now that she had taken the plunge into the full sensitivity and sensuality of adulthood, of the liberated and unhung woman, she was determined to follow through its course, come what may-and she sincerely hoped that what may come would be her own, drippy little pussy!
She arrived at Grand Central Terminal promptly, and amazingly, at two o'clock as the schedule had suggested they might arrive, tipped a porter to carry her bags to a cab, gave her aunt and uncle's address and made it to the brownstone townhouse without any trouble, a feat almost impossible for a goodly number of reasonably intelligent men and women, let alone a thirteen-year-old girl. The cabbie carried her bags into the bell foyer and left her there after she paid and tipped him, tipping a little more than her parents had told her to. When he left, she rang the bell, waited, rang it again, and then turned as the door opened.
Her cousin, Lenny, stood there, and she was more than a little taken aback at the way he had changed. She had not seen him in four years, though she had seen her aunt and uncle several times in between. Then, four years ago, he had been an awkward, gawky, bumbling youth of fourteen, not very impressive. Now he was tall, muscular, with his chest bare and well developed, and he seemed so self-possessed that-had his facial features not been almost the same-she would not have believed it was he.
"Yes?" he asked, looking a little perplexed.
"I'm here," she said.
He grinned. "I see that, sweets, but just who am I confronting."
"Lori Phillips, you idiot!" she said, laughing.
He flushed. "Jesus! But what happened to you?" he asked, looking her over quite frankly.
"What happened to you?" she countered.
"Yeah, old lanky Lenny died somewhere along the way. But, girl, you're only what-fourteen?"
"Will be fourteen in a month," she said. Somehow, it tickled her to let him know how young she was, not to try to make herself a year older by lying about that month.
"But you're an awfully-well, big girl."
"And tired," she said. "Do I come in or stay here?"
He grabbed her bags, effortlessly, and carried them inside. She followed, shutting the door behind. She had a feeling, a certain piece of woman's intuition that said she was most certainly going to have one fucking wonderful time if Cousin Lenny didn't have any hang ups-and if they were ever left alone in the house together.
"Where are Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin?" she asked.
"You'll have to wait," he said. "They've gone to an art auction, one of those terribly aristocratic and boring damn things, and they don't plan to make it home until around six, whereupon they will shower and freshen and the four of us will go to dinner at some no-doubt swanky and very impressive sort of restaurant, down in the Village or maybe just off Fifth Avenue somewhere."
"Really? The Village?"
"Oh, a tourist?" he said, depositing her bags in the spare bedroom. "Well, maybe you'll even get to see the Statue of Liberty."
"Don't shit me, Lenny. I remember when you stumbled over chairs and picked your nose!"
He laughed as he turned back to her. "And I remember when you were flat-chested!" he said.
"Not anymore."
"Most definitely not anymore," he agreed.
"Well, then let's keep this all very straight and adult to adult."
"I've heard about your vaunted IQ," he said.
"And I've heard you've been accepted over at Princeton."
"Touch�. Well, dear Lori, would you like a tour of the famous townhouse, with all its expensive artifacts from stores a few blocks away and other sundry exotic points?"
"Can I change out of my traveling clothes first?" she asked.
"By all means. And can I get you a Coke or something for the tour?"
"Don't you know how to mix drinks?"
"You're thirteen!"
"No shit slinging, Cousin Lenny," she said, shaking her finger at him.
He laughed. "What will it be?"
"Rum and Coke."
"Oh, a very sophisticated mixed drink," he said in mocking tones.
"I match my order to the talent of my host," she said, smiling sweetly.
"Damnit, I don't know if I like a girl who's sharper than I am," he said.
She closed the door between them, listened to him walk down the hallway, down the stairs toward the bottom floor and the kitchen. Then unpacked her suitcases, hung what needed to be hung, and tried to decide what she should wear. She had already determined that it had to be something that would make Cousin Lenny's pecker punch right out through his pants. She had noticed a stiffening in his crotch during their banter, and she aimed to increase his desire for her-tenfold in the Biblical fashion.
She stripped, naked, then pulled on a long, blue knit sweater that came to within three inches of her knees, showing a good bit of leg and the free-swinging outline of her lovely, up-tilted tits. She brushed her golden hair at the mirror, sucked in a deep breath, then went out and descended to the kitchen where she found him glancing through a newspaper with the drinks before him. He was having a Rum and Coke as well.
He looked up, involuntarily assumed a stunned expression at the arousing nature of her costume, then recovered his smile and his cool air. She liked the way he handled himself. Robbie Marshall would have been agape until she would have been forced to ask him to cease and desist staring. She was certain his prick was iron rigid in his pants, but he did not let on that his cock was hungry for the depths of her little-girl-womanish box.
"Little Cousin Lori is ready for the tour."
"Little Cousin Lori should not run around dressed like that, or she's going to find herself in the clutches of a man she can't handle."
She smiled at him, sipped her drink. "Like you?"
"Seriously, Lori you should-"
"Shut the fuck up, Lenny. I don't want your lectures, don't need your lectures, and absolutely refuse to listen to your lectures. I am a big girl, mentally and physically, despite the fact that I'm only about to turn fourteen. My IQ says I should go on to college. I hate school, and I want to go to college. High school bores me. Maybe college won't. I read most college level literature now, without any trouble, and I bought some texts that analyze some of those books to see if I understood them-and I sometimes think I understood them even better than the critics who explained them. But my damned parents are determined to make me suffer through adolescence, because they look back from that middle-age of theirs through rose-colored glasses, certain that adolescence is the happiest time of anyone's life, when any adolescent or thinking adult knows that's absolutely bullshit. Physically, they want me to hold hands and kiss on the cheek. But they don't understand me physically any better than they do intellectually. They don't realize I read books they find above them, because if I pointed it out, it would only cause friction-besides, I love them too much to make them feel inferior to their own little girl. But I'm not about to restrict my mind or body to fit their image of what I should be but am not. I've been fucked, more than once, and I've had it AC-DC. Personally, cunt-licking attracts me as much as screwing, though you couldn't exactly have the same outlook I do. The point is that I am thirteen only chronologically, and if you can't grasp that goddamned simple fact, then you can shove you're damned superiority up your ass until it appears in your goddamned throat!"
Lenny looked at his drink, picked it up, drank half of it, set it down, shuddering, shook his head, said, "Hot damn, but you don't mince words, do you?"
"Not my style."
"Well, anyway, I get the picture. And I apologize. You obviously can handle yourself-better than most women twice your age. Are we friends again, Lori?"
He was obviously sincere about the apology, and the tone-to her-seemed to change, as if her cousin were now addressing her as a mature, intelligent equal.
"We're friends again," she said, sipping her drink, looking over the rim of the glass coquettishly. "We start the tour?"
They toured the truly marvelously appointed townhouse, all ten rooms of it, and three baths. They paused in the middle for Lenny to get each of them another drink, finished and returned to the plushly couched living room where they got a third drink. She sprawled on the couch, her sweater riding enticingly far up her thighs. She wondered if she dared let him catch a glimpse of her pantieless cunt, then decided against it. She had him going, as the bulge in his slacks attested, and there was no sense hurtling the thing on the poor boy too quickly. She merely sat close, her bare leg touching him, and talked quietly.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked at last.
"I don't see why not?"
"I know your folks. How the hell do you get away going out and having sex? Seems they'd know where you were every minute."
"They think they do."
"Oh?"
"I lie."
"I've done a little of that," he said. He was feeling his drinks, even more than she was, and he tended to laugh too richly and too abruptly.
They exchanged stories of their lies, and the talk drifted from that into discussions on sex, which grew rather intimate, until it was discovered that she had never been fucked in the asshole.
"It would hurt, wouldn't it?" she asked.
"Depends on the girl. Some can't do it at all. It's the way they're built. Some can only do it with guys who don't have thick penises. All depends on who is involved."
"You like it that way?" she asked.
"It's nice."
"Is yours thin?"
"My what?"
"You're dick, silly."
He blushed. "Thin-but long."
"Do you think I'd be able to stand asshole fucking?"
"Maybe I should get us another drink," he said, starting to rise.
She grabbed him, pulled him down again. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Do you think I'd be able to stand it, like it?"
"It's hard to say."
"Try."
"Well," he said, "you're built for sex. You're one of the most sensuous girls I've ever seen. So I imagine you might make it."
"Want to try?"
He sat there, speechless.
"You've been wanting to, you know. Don't say you haven't."
"That's incest!" he gasped at last.
"Oh, shit, Lenny, let's not get melodramatic. Incest is only a sin because it's supposed to make deformed babies (and even that is unproven), and if you're fucking me in the asshole, you damn sure won't knock me up to make any deformed kids anyway."
"But-"
She grabbed the bottom of her sweater, stripped it over her head and sat naked before him. "Now you want to?"
"God, you're gorgeous!" he moaned.
She moved against him, fumbled in his slacks. She knew she was about to get what she so ardently wished when he made no effort to keep her from freeing his hardened prick from his slacks ...
CHAPTER EIGHT
She knelt between Lenny's legs as he sat naked on the couch, and held his snaky penis in her hands. God, what a strange and beautiful fucker he had on him. It was not very large, diameter-wise, but it was easily ten inches long. She could never encompass it all in her cunt, she was certain-though she longed to have a try at it.
She kissed the head of the wang, licked the knob until it was wet and quivering for the touch of her mouth. She sucked in the first few inches and wallowed it about, tonguing him until he was grunting and breathing like an animal in heat. His big nuts were warm and trembling in her small hand, the sac filling her palm to overflowing.
"Be careful, or I won't be able to hold back," he said.
"I want it in my mouth the first time," she said, leaving his saliva dripping the length of fuckroot long enough to inform him of her desires. "Then, when you're a little relaxed and can hold it longer, I want it in my cunt and ass for a long, long time."
"Suck it, then!" he said, pushing his crotch at her, finally allowing his desire for pleasure to subvert the silly hang ups of his upbringing.
"Glad to, lover. That's what I was doing before you interrupted with your warning."
"To Hell with the warning," he said, grinning as he was. "Suck me off, Lori!"
She engulfed the inflamed member again, worked at it with a catlike contentment in the sexual job she was performing. She slid her head up and down on the marvelous pecker, wishing she could swallow all the fantastic length. Her spittle ran down and clung in the hair on his balls, gleaming in the hazy sunlight of mid-afternoon New York City which filtered rosily through the tinted windows of the house.
He held her head, rocked with her rhythm as his heated fucker slipped between her beautiful, full lips. He watched her eating his dong and grew so excited that he could no longer control himself-though he had wanted to make this lovely little girl suck him for long, thrilling minutes.
"Ooooohhhhh ..." he moaned as the first stirrings of his fuck cream jellied in his balls. "Oh, Jesus, gobble this up, Lori. Hot ... spunky sperm for you ... honey ... eat it ... lovely, lovely fine little cocksucker. I want to blast you full of honey ... oh, my balls ... my balls!"
She grasped the cock, pumped it, giggled deep in her throat as Lenny lost control and discharged a first jet of gluey come into her mouth, the creamy curds of it cloying on her tongue. She wallowed it about in her mouth as the second blast came, then swallowed, swallowed, gulped the steaming seed into her tummy.
"Eat it ... eat it ..." he urged, pounding his root almost painfully deep into her mouth as his climax carried him almost into insensibility and a third and final thick fuck wad of sex juice which-because his cock slipped out of her mouth and bounced off her nose, spattered into her left eye and ran down her cheek.
She came herself then, thrilled as his come slimed down her pretty face, at the jerking length of his hot meat, at the hairy balls that now drooped over the edge of the couch, at the expression of sheer joy which split his face with a grin like an axe wound.
"Now," she said, "Fuck me in the ass!"
CHAPTER NINE
Her asshole tingled as she thought of accepting his long, snaky dick into the depths of that forbidden tunnel, and she was as heated for this new experience as she had been the first time she urged Robbie Marshall to shove his rig into her sucking cunt. It was another use of her body that she just had to experience and understand. Even if it hurt. And she could not imagine how it could be totally painless. Shoving all that lovely root up the wrong entrance was bound to sting a little!
"Where do we do it?" she asked.
"That's a question that will have to wait a while for an answer," Lenny replied, smiling weakly, like a track star who has just finished running the half mile.
"Huh?" she asked.
"It is, you may have noticed, not quite up to fucking into your pretty little butt."
She grabbed the flaccid dick. "How long?"
"Twenty minutes? Half an hour?" he offered, shrugging.
"Like shit," she said.
"An inescapable fact of life, Lori," he said.
"I can shorten that to three minutes," she said.
"Oh?"
"Damn straight!"
"And how would you manage that?"
"I'll show you."
She moved in between his long, well-muscled legs again, grabbed the loose prick that flopped over the bulging sac of his testicle. She opened her mouth, took the wilted penis into it. It was not more than six inches long now, and because it was so rubbery and flexible, she was able to twist it about to fill up her entire mouth, stuffing it in until her pert little nose was shoved right into his belly, into his pubic thatch, and her green eyes were looking up at his belly button.
Lenny watched her, aroused by the bulge of her cheeks, caused, he knew, by the full length of his deflated prick stuffed between her lips. He ran his fingers through her long, yellow hair, and thrilled up his spine as her hard nipples grazed his legs.
Lori pursed her mouth, sucking on the cock, too much of it to really work well. But she liked the sensation of finally being able to encompass all of him, and she did not release any of the warm fuck flesh that she had so deftly taken between her lovely lips. She reached fingers down, tickled his nuts, dragged a nail gently across the base of his scrotum. She teased his asshole with a finger, then worked the same digit in to the second knuckle, all the while pursing her pretty mouth on the massive weight of his long, warm tool ...
"God, it's getting hard already!" he groaned, now pistoning his hips a little to get more sensation from the girl's expertly sucking mouth and wriggling tongue.
Lori did not need to be informed of the change in the status of his pecker, for the meat had begun to stiffen seconds ago and had begun to force its way back her throat so that she had to let go of some of it-or be strangled because of her own greediness. Slowly, moment by moment, it rose until there was more out of her mouth than in.
"Suck it," he urged.
She continued to suck, though she knew she wanted it in cunt and asshole before they were finished, and she was not about to eat another-load of come this afternoon.
At last, she released it. It hung before her, like a live animal, the great purple head almost a deep blue along the very rim, as if it were so tightly packed with the blood of her cousin's desire that it would explode and shower the room with its contents. Saliva dripped off the tip, shone wetly the entire length of it. It trembled, hobbled as involuntary jerking movements made it do a dance before her face.
She kissed it again.
A bead of come welled out the slit.
She licked it away.
"Now?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, now!"
"Where?" she asked.
"Here. On the couch?"
She ran her hand over the material. "Looks like it would stain," she said, smiling at his eagerness to sink home into her, no matter where they were.
"Right," he acknowledged. "That was a bad suggestion. My room."
He led her up the stairs, into his room, which was decorated with pop posters and the paraphernalia of college-age youth. It was not, she thought, a particularly impressive room, as if Lenny went along with whatever was in vogue at the moment, without much of a deep interest in things himself. But at this moment, she did not care about the fine points of Lenny's personality, only about the reaming length of his hard cock, which was still like a rod of steel as he pulled her down onto his bed and began kissing her, probing deeply into her mouth with his tongue, kissing her breasts, rubbing his hard cock over her legs.
"My cunt first," she said rather breathlessly. "Then you can jam it up my ass and come later."
He probed the thin root into the first few inches of her cunt, then suddenly slammed the long cock home, to the balls, the last inch or two of it past her womb entrance, so deep that it hurt-and yet drove her instantly into a bouncing, wet come. God, she had never thought he would be able to ram it all the way in without blowing her skull open!
"Fuck me, Lenny ... Jesus, it's so deep! It doesn't ... fill me ... up ... thickness, I mean ... but it makes ... up for ... that ... in its length ... beautiful, beautiful hot wang ... "
"And your cunt ... like fire ... sucking hell ... out of me ... jam it up ..." He fucked harder, thrusting, thrusting, almost without regard to her own tender little snatch. But this time she did not care that he was a rude lover, for she was coming and coming at the feel of his long root probing depths she had not ever had probed before, with either Robbie Marshall or her own father.
"I'm going to come!"
"Not in me!" she wheezed, though she really wanted the thick fuck juice of his balls to slime her inner fleshes, remembering the burning thrill of feeling her father's cock pulsing out wads of sperm into her pretty little box.
He yanked his cock out, fell against her, somehow managed to control the building tension that had brought him to the brink of thick ejaculation. She expected the chugging curds of milk to gurgle out between them, but he managed to hold it down.
"In my asshole!" she said, grinding her cunt against him.
"We'll need some Vaseline," he said.
"Get it. Quickly!" She was burning up, eagerly awaiting the thrust of that root into foreign territory.
He left the room, was back from the bath in seconds, the jar of joy jelly in his hands. He was grinning, and as he walked swiftly toward her, his big dick bounced and swayed and made her groan. He lathered the length of his fuck rod with the petroleum jelly, then put a gob of it on one finger and worked it into her bunghole as she lay on her belly. Even his finger in there was getting her hot, and she wondered what it would be like when he stuffed it full of other things.
"It'll hurt at first," he said.
She gritted her teeth. "Go ahead."
"Tell me if it hurts too much," he said.
"Fuck me, damnit!"
He chuckled.
She felt the head of the dick probing at her asshole as he used two fingers to spread the puckered entrance. Then the bulbous mantle forced into her. She screamed and lunged.
"Hurt?" he asked.
"RAM IT!"
He rammed it. All ten inches of that impossible dick fucked deep into her shit tunnel, and she slid forward, banging her head against the headboard as she came a long, thrilling time, her climaxing exploding, it seemed, in her intestines as well as in her pretty cunt.
His balls slapped against her cunt meat as he stroked out, then slammed back into her asshole. While he was still buried to the depths in her ass, she reached back, barely managed to grasp his nuts, separated them, and pushed one of the globes through her cunt labes so the nut was nestled in her steaming twat. Prick in asshole, ball in cunt. She groaned, came again.
He stroked back, and the testicle popped out of her dripping sex hole, slimed with cuntsop, quivering and ready to burst forth the fruit of its constant labors.
It seemed that she came with every wild plunge of his super-heated cock, every slap of his bulging nuts against the steaming entrance of her now neglected quim.
He was making inarticulate noises, deep in his throat, noises that made no sense, except as they were vocal interpretations of the wracking joy that twisted his body and bade him to fountain up his youthful supply of creamy fertility.
She found she was slobbering against the pillow which her face was driven into. She giggled, came as he fucked harder. There was pain. Certainly there was pain. But the joy was so satisfying, so complete, that she could withstand the agony for hours, if that was possible for him, just to experience the waves of Greek pleasure that spun through her pretty body, that made her tits weep some thin fluid now, like milk, even though she was not pregnant and was not freshening.
"You're the hottest piece of cunt and ass I've ever fucked!" he wheezed, never breaking his pace. "You're every inch a woman, Lori. Every cell a bundle of sexual heat. God, I could fuck you for days without stopping I think!"
His compliments, his arousing descriptions of her body, only served to drive her into a wilder fucking frenzy. She humped her ass up, slapping it into his stomach, trying to jam his dick even further into the tight hole it occupied.
"Oh, Lori, Lori, Lori ..." he moaned.
Then his hot come wads burst like bullets from the slit of big meat, and she felt the burning fluid scorching down the tight tube of her anal passage, finding nowhere to go, squeezing back, surging against his dick as he fucked even more cream into her.
A million and ten years later, he pulled his shrinking penis from her asshole and flopped onto his back, beside her.
There was a gurgling noise, and the sperm he had creamed into her bunghole bubbled and squirted back out of the tight channel, ran down her thighs and down the crack of her pretty butt.
"How was that?" he finally managed to ask.
She did not answer.
"How was that, Lori?" he asked again.
Silence.
He discovered, then, that she has passed out at the peak of her last, dizzying explosive climax ...
CHAPTER TEN
For the next two days, there was no opportunity for Lori and her cousin to get together again, to roll naked together, and to share the warm flesh of their young bodies. Her Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin were constantly hovering over her, wanting to take her here and there, wanting to show her the sights that everyone is supposed to see their first trip to New York City. They ate in the best restaurants, and twice, in Brentano's, and when she saw paperweights that she liked very much-one a butterfly of some rare strain encased in Plexiglas weighing two pounds, the other a rare shell suspended in a globe of Plexiglas-but which were very expensive, each thirty-five dollars, they bought them for her. She had always heard how Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin were not only well-to-do, but very anxious to display their wealth. Well, she didn't mind taking from people who would never miss it, so she thanked them, gushed over the paperweights, and accepted them happily.
She hungered for the shoving length of Lenny's dick, but there was just no opportunity to receive it. His bedroom was on the same floor as her aunt and uncle's, and it would be too risky, he insisted, for her to come down to him at night. Yet, her bedroom was directly over theirs, and the sounds of her and Lenny's love-making were sure to drift down if he came to her.
The only bit of sexual excitement in the following two days was a few minutes, on Wednesday afternoon, as Martin and Lena were getting dressed for an excursion to the Museum of Modern Art (where Lori really did want to go, as compared to all the exclusive shops they had gone to the day before which had totally bored her), she and Lenny were in the kitchen, alone, and he felt her tits, kissed her, slid a hand down the waistband of her microskirt and panties, finger-fucked her to a swift come up against the wall of the kitchen. She wanted to stroke him off, but he said that could get too messy if his parents suddenly started down the stairs. It took more than a second to clean up a blown wad of come, but little or no time to slip his hand out of her drippy crotch.
The Museum of Modern Art was exciting, and they spent four hours there without really seeing everything in as much detail as she wanted. She knew she would be returning more than once during the summer. They spent only ten minutes in the basement illuminatum, watching the pulsing, flushing patterns of light on the electronic wall, and she could have spent an entire afternoon there, without moving once.
The only thing that blunted the enjoyment was the knowledge that Lenny was leaving, early the next morning, for a job in Colorado, and would not return home until a week before he was due at Princeton, after Lori had left for home. It looked at that moment as if she had tasted the last of that lovely snaky prick, the last for the summer, at least. But she was scheming all the while, refusing to give in to fate quite that easily.
That night, she could not sleep, tossing about on the sheets. She tried to finger-fuck herself, and although she had somewhat of a climax, it was certainly not enough to free her from the demands her body was making upon her, from the burning drive, the need for sex, full and complete and relaxing sex.
She thought of that night when she had listened to her mother and father balling and had finally gotten up and crept down the corridor, had opened their door and spied on them. She felt like that now, like a child rather than a woman, unable to find any way of satisfying her own desperate physical needs.
She muttered curses into the pillow and tried to force herself to sleep by thinking about relaxing topics, like snow, falling and falling and covering everything, like a lazy summer breeze, like a swinging hammock in that breeze ...
None of it was any good.
"Damn!" she said to the darkness.
She wondered if she were a nymphomaniac. After all, she seemed to think an awful lot about sex and to need it a good bit. But she decided it was just the very novelty of this new world she had discovered. And it was also because she had absolutely no sexual hang ups. Her parents, by the time they had started to pass their own hang ups on to her, could be easily refuted, for she was grown and her clever mind was years ahead of itself, able to weed the folly of Judeo-Christian sexual codes from the truth-that life should be lived in enjoyment and that nothing was wrong unless you hurt someone.
She was not a plastic, fantastic, All American Cunt, a woman to be used for a man's joy. She would use a man as much as he used her. She reveled in sex, and she was a healthier individual for recognizing the need, especially in young women, for a great deal of sensual stimulation, just as young men require it through their stud years, in quantities that amaze older people. She did not subscribe to the philosophy (if you could call it that) that a young man should go out and get all the ass he could, learn his techniques-while a young woman was supposed to sit at home and knit or something if she wanted to maintain any image better than that of a hopeless, degenerated slut and depraved whore. Men and women were equal. What was sauce for the goose was also and invariably sauce for the gander.
She played in her drippy pie a while longer.
Her clit was swollen amazingly. The very tip of it protruded from her labia. It was a little, little prick.
But she wanted a big one.
Lenny's big one ...
... deep in her ...
... balls on her ass ...
... come flushing into her mouth ... his hands on her tits, flicking her nipples ...
"Damnit!"
The word hissed quietly about the room.
She got up, naked, and slipped into her shortie nightgown, prepared to do some illicit sneaking around as she had done that night at home. There would be no sleep before her nookie had its fill of cock.
She walked quietly to the door, not wanting to raise any noise that might be heard by her aunt and uncle sleeping below. It was three in the morning, and there was not much chance that they would be awake to hear a creaking floorboard, or even interpret it as her sneaking out of her room if they did happen to hear it. But she was as quiet as a cat, just the same, her lithe legs moving like the legs of an animal stalking prey, the muscles taut, her entire body relaxed, yet ready to spring rigid at the slightest noise that might indicate discovery.
She opened the door carefully, drawing it inward, giving herself a view of the little hallway that connected the two rooms on the third floor of the townhouse. She stepped into the carpeted corridor, did not close her door, and walked softly to the head of the stairs, went down them without incident.
She crept past Lena and Martin's bedroom, heard the faint sound of snoring and hoped that her aunt was as dead to the world as her uncle and didn't suffer from insomnia.
She reached the end of the hallway on this larger floor, past the bathroom and the walk-in cedar closet, past the den on the other side, reached the closed door that would give her access to Lenny.
Pausing, she listened, heard nothing beyond.
She touched the knob, twisted it, cautiously opened the door inch by inch. She did not want to wake him before he could see who it was, for he might cry out and alert Lena and Martin, which would be, to say the least, more than a bit awkward.
Awkward?
Disastrous!
In the room, she closed the door and stood very still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, lest she move in ignorance and fall over a chair or something, like a burglar in a very cheap movie. Her cunnie was so hot and quivery that she found it difficult not to just run and jump into his bed, grab for the length of dick between his legs ...
"So you got here at last," a voice said.
She almost yelped out loud with fright, and only her constant fear of discovery by Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin kept her quiet-or relatively quiet as she gurgled a strangled cry for help deep in her slender throat.
"I've been lying here ever since they went to bed two and a half hours ago!"
"Lenny?"
"Who else?"
"You expected me?"
"Who else?"
"But you said it would be foolish to try to make it while they were in the house. You said not to try it."
"Sometimes, my horniness gets the better of my common sense," he whispered.
"Mine too." She giggled, blinked as the outline of him began to make itself visible where he sat on the bed, back against the headboard.
"Come to poppa," he said, raising shadow arms.
"Will poppa come for me?" she asked, giggling.
"Poppa has been saving it for centuries, and you can have a nice creamy dessert if you want to come suck for it."
"I love creamy desserts," she said, walking quickly towards the bed and the stiff cock that she had been dreaming of for two days ...
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lori licked the end of his cock. She kissed it as if it were a little animal, a pet she dearly loved. It responded with a small, quick jerk, as if it wished to acknowledge her affection.
She smelled it, loving the musky smell, a scent of sex and of release.
Kissing his balls, she stroked his organ, masturbated him while he lay there, breathing heavily, now and then urging her on. She licked his balls, all the places covered with his pubic hair until his entire crotch was sopping wet. Little buds of come rose out of his dick, one at a time, one every couple of minutes, and she licked them away greedily, as if each sperm droplet could restore the youth of a thousand ages and bring the powers of the supernatural to mortal man.
"Suck it, Lori," he said.
She obliged, happily. She remembered how she had come the first time she had sucked cock, merely from the act of having it in her mouth, of feeling the syrupy semen bursting across her tongue and knowing he was, at that supreme moment, totally indebted to her.
She soon had his big penis harder than ever before, so hard that she thought, if she bit it, it would not even leave marks. It pulsed, regularly and rhythmically, and she knew he was fighting to hold down his spunk as long as he could.
She rose from his crotch, her heart beating faster than it should be "Eat my cunt?" she asked.
"Sixty-nine?"
"Exactly."
"Just let me at it!" he said enthusiastically, leaving no doubt whatsoever that he would enjoy it.
When his lips and eager tongue kissed her pubes, she mashed the luscious meat socket down into his face, almost smothering him, and attacked his offered root with more fury than ever. She sucked and tongued and fingered the hard penis, bringing it again and again to the moment of wet release, then ceased and allowed herself to concentrate totally on the cunt spasms he was inducing in her. His hot mouth was as excellent a lover as his dong, and she began flooding with sex juice as he took her beyond the peak of orgasm, shooting up and up and up into stars and comets, into places she could never see often enough, places that she could only see when she was coming fully in her sweet box.
When the last of the major shuddering cunt undulations ceased and she could think straight, she returned to his rod and stripped it with her mouth while he grasped her hot buttocks and lapped at her dribbling pussy to catch the flush of fuck juice that spilled out of her.
"Now ... baby ... little fucker ... suck it out ..." he moaned, forgetting to lick her, forgetting everything except the uncontrollable rage of pleasure that had been sparked into a blazing roar in his loins and could now only be extinguished through wet ejaculation.
She felt his balls jerk in her hand, trembling as if they were alive and frightened.
His peter spasmed, thrust deeper in her mouth.
She felt the bulbous head swell even larger.
She shivered, anticipating the syrup.
And then it came ...
It spurted thickly into her mouth, a long, drenching wad of rich sperm and prostate fluid, gooey and creamy and exciting as it stuck within her mouth like slightly melted peanut butter.
"Eat ... eat ... suck it up, Lori ..." Lenny moaned as he clenched his ass and speared his prick into her mouth again.
A second wad of sweet essence splattered into her precious little face, then a third, then a final weak sputter. She sucked the gunk down, loving the taste of it, making relatively loud smacking and slurping noises as she sought to get every drop of the delicious fluid out of the balls that were reluctant to supply her with more.
"I'm drained!" he wheezed as she finally left his spunk-odored crotch and lay on top of him, kissing him, nibbling at his lips, licking along his cheek as if to gather the salt of him.
"Not yet," Lori said. "I'll tell you when you're drained-and that's going to be when you can't get that pecker up anymore!"
"Ummmm, yes doctor," he said, grabbing her, feeling her up, hands on her firm ass, up her back, slipping around to massage her heavy tits, fingers diddling in her wet trough, flicking her still swollen clitoris, mashing her pubes, twisting tufts of her cunt hair ...
Several minutes later, as Lenny slipped his long penis into the sucking cunt depths between Lori's kicking legs and slammed so hard she thought she would pass out, she knew this was going to be one of her most memorable nights ever. She was going to keep that big dong hard until she had come too many times to count. She was going to send Lenny away, tomorrow, too exhausted to even be aware that he was leaving.
"Fuck me, darling," she said. "Fuck your lovely nuts off."
And he really, truly did ...
CHAPTER TWELVE
Over the next week, Lori came to despise her aunt and uncle for their obsession with materialism, with gaining new possessions, with impressing her, with their spoutings about the danger of allowing students to get too militant about social problems. They were liberals, they protested, but there was a limit. And it seemed to Lori that, if they felt that limit had been breached, they would not hesitate to suggest that student protestors and anti-war people be put in one of those twelve concentration camps Lyndon Johnson had established and Richard Nixon had seen fit to continue in operation. They were zealous about protecting their position, for they had made their money through stocks and bonds, investing what Martin had earned through ten years of work as an architect, and they were not about to give an inch even if it meant giving someone else a reason to life or a foot up out of poverty. Yet they pretended to be hip. He wore his hair over his collar, wore his sideburns long, cultivated a mustache. Lena wore miniskirts, and had the legs for them, wild clothes, coats, scarf's to her knees. They both spoke in the idiom of the moment, with the slang of the day. What was sad, Lori thought, was that neither of them seemed to realize the phoniness of their lifestyle, the hypocrisy of their attitudes. She could not even bring herself to think of them as evil, for they were not evil, only rather stupid and rather desperate about growing old. She knew that both of them tinted their hair, and she thought it a shame-especially on Martin's part, since, if he had permitted his hair to be salt and pepper colored, he would have been quite sexy.
To escape from the constant barrage of gifts and tours and tickets to shows, she made it plain that she wanted time to learn about the city on her own, to explore Manhattan, where they lived, in detail. Here was the largest conglomeration of publishing houses in the world, here the greatest number of legitimate theaters in existence, here there were pornography shops operating like little drugstores, and shops specializing in Indian goods, bookstores and movies and nearly anything anyone could ever want. It was as If the entire world had been boiled down to a city of essentials, to a representative sampling of everything. She loved the place.
In her third day of exploring, she went to a theater showing a motion picture which purported to deal with the sexual freedom and the nature of sexual attitudes in Denmark. She had read some reviews of the film which said it was scorching and that it showed everything, though she could hardly imagine that! She was afraid they would not let her in, though she dressed in the only suit she had brought, a sexy, low-cut thing she had altered after her mother had purchased it, thinking it would remain conservative. They never questioned her, though the manager and usher gave her long, appraising looks, the usher licking his lips and trying to say something clever-which he could not get out for the knot in his tongue.
The first ten minutes of the film were taken over with a discussion between the narrator and three "psychiatrists" about the value of pornography and of uninhibited sexual codes. It was interesting at times, silly and juvenile at others, and its entire intent was to add redeeming social value, Lori supposed, to what would be shown later.
She was about to leave the theater and ask for her money back, when they gave up the stupid quadrilogue of narrator and psychiatrists and shifted to a pornographic film studio in Denmark. As the narrator discussed the recent liberalization of obscenity laws in the Danish Parliament and discussed the great drop in sex crimes, divorces, and mental illness since that decision, the filmmakers worked unobstructed to get their set ready for action.
What held Lori there was that, off to one side, there was a beautiful girl with teacup sized tits, long, stunning legs, perhaps eighteen. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, nude. Beside her, also nude, was her partner for the sex film, a big Dane with blond hair and a likeable smile. He was diddling himself, and his pecker was huge and hard as rock!
She had not had cock since Lenny had gone. And now, a week later, she was horny enough to begin with. Watching that well-hung Dane stroke his meat made her pussy jiggle and weep sweet sex creams.
She squirmed in her seat, but gave up all ideas of leaving that had occupied her mind only moments earlier.
The filmmakers had the lighting arranged, and they began placing the actor and actress-if such a term could be applied in this instance. Still watching that sonofabitch play with his huge dork, Lori was certain that none of this was acting-but the goddamned real thing!
She wished Lenny were here to watch this with her and to diddle her little box while she watched the screen.
The man lay on the bed, his cock sticking straight into the air, bloated, pulsing visibly. While the director gave final instructions, the girl fondled the big meat rod, almost absent-mindedly. Then everything was set, the take chalk board was slapped open and shut, and the filming began.
Lori gasped as the girl licked a tongue slowly up the long peter and then sucked the head into her mouth. She pumped on the root with obvious delight, holding the hairy nuts in her hand.
Lori blinked, not quite able to believe this.
After a few minutes of sucking his big wang, she pulled back, moved up and settled her cunt down of the pulsing root!
No wonder the article in VARIETY said it would be raided more than once-it had been raided last week, though the theater obtained another print from the distributor and continued showing the film. The court had found the police negligent in confiscating the film without a magistrate's hearing first, and now everyone knew they were just laying off until they thought the theater was feeling fat and cozy. Then they'd do it legally. Though it very well might not hold up in court, since the Supreme Court had, in the last few years, gotten braver and had gone against the wishes of the asexual, mentally fucked religious fanatics who thought the body obscene and filthy instead of lovely and exciting.
The camera panned in on the stretched lips of the young girl's suctioning twat, the thick mass of peter flesh that slipped in and out of her, all greasy with her cunt fluids.
"You like the movie?" a soft voice asked next to her.
She turned and saw that a man had sat down next to her. He was in his forties, not unpleasant looking, though a little jowly. He had the look of a successful man, and what she saw of his clothes in the darkness was enough to indicate money.
"Very much," she said.
He put an arm around her, squeezed her lightly bra-covered tit, massaged it pleasantly.
"Oh, look at that!" he gasped.
On the screen, they were making a second sex film while the narrator talked, and three girls were licking a big, black penis, the biggest dick Lori had ever seen. The black man who owned it smiled happily as the girls, all lovely and Swedish-looking, lathered his pussy fucker quite thoroughly.
Lori shivered.
"I'll bet that monster shoots a ton!" the man said. He took her hand in his and laid it in his lap. "I've seen this one every afternoon since it's been playing. When you run the business, you can afford to take time out for pleasantries. Now they do some more talking with the psychiatrists, but it only lasts five minutes this time. Do you mind jerking me off?"
She hardly knew what to say, but she did know that she would not be able to refuse him, not as hot as she was for sex, any kind of sex, even if it was only jerking his nuts loose of their wad.
She used both hands to pull open his trousers and free his cock. It was not very long, maybe five or six inches, but it was very, very thick. She groaned softly, deep in her throat as she felt it hot and hard in her little hands.
"Like it, sugar?" he asked.
"It's nice," she agreed.
"I'd love to shove it up your precious little cunt. You're an absolute knockout!"
She did not respond. She merely jerked the meat stick with loving care and perfect rhythm. She spat in her hand and slimed him, then stroked him quickly.
"Ah, sugar, you're going to get a blessing from my balls any second now."
"Shoot it," she whispered. "Yeah, blow your come!"
On the screen, she saw a white girl sucking a black cock while a white cock was rubbed against her cheek. Suddenly, the black guy pulled his hot bone from her mouth and blew come all over her face. Thick wads of it ran down over her smiling countenance, clogged one nostril. Seconds later, the white cock burst from being rubbed on her cheeks, and she was very nearly literally drowning in thick rivers of come ...
Then man in the seat beside her had obviously also been watching, for he groaned, bucked in his seat, and unloaded a huge charge of sperm so thick it was like vanilla pudding. Five hard squirts filled her hand, made the stuff run down her wrist.
"Oh, Jesus, what a creamy little bitch you are!" he hissed, his prick spasming dryly.
She raised her slimed hand and, as she watched a guy fucking hell out of a girl on the screen, a girl strikingly like Shana Alexandre she ate the slop of his nuts off her hand, savoring the rich taste and odor.
"You're the hottest chick I've ever seen!" he said, watching her. "I could use another hand job, sugar."
Sure enough, his cock was still hard, had not gone down at all. She finished stroking the meat a second time, received two watery squirts of jism, and ate that as well. Her own crotch seethed with sexual desire, and actually experienced several minor climaxes, but nothing like she wanted.
When she looked up to ask the man if he would like to take her somewhere for more than hand jobs, he was gone.
Damn, she thought, I wish they had movie theaters like this in Altoona, Pennsylvania!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was the day after her birthday that Lori met Brutus, which was, she was later to realize, a rather monumental moment in her young life. The birthday celebration her aunt and uncle staged for her was more than a little trying-what with a gala party for three at the Astoria, with lobster and baked Alaska and dozens of other delicacies on the menu, then a film and finally a late theater performance which was a benefit for some dopey cause or other that Lori never was quite able to understand-and after that party, she was in need of reality. She felt as if she had been immersed in the fantasy world of some dope addict or some total schizophrenic and that if she didn't get somewhere where people were people and there wasn't yards of golden tapestry and elegantly dressed society matrons, she would blow her stack. The Village seemed like the answer to that, and it was in Greenwich Village where she discovered Brutus.
The shop was hung with leather goods, handmade pocketbooks and stash bags with long rawhide streamers coming off them. There were leather hats, leather gloves, leather slacks, leather microskirts, leather vests with more fringed rawhide, and even a case of leather rings which the resident craftsman could fit to your finger. She was the only one in there, with a small boy, perhaps ten, who was sitting on a stool behind the counter.
"You want something?" the kid asked.
"You run the place?"
"Don't be a wise ass," he said.
That surprised her a little, and she burst out laughing. "You remind me of someone," she said.
"Yeah? Let me guess. Englebert Humperdinck."
"No," she said. "You remind me of me."
"Baby, I don't have your boobs," he said, so comically adult that she thought, for a short moment, he might even be a midget.
"You must gargle with piss in the morning," she said.
"You want to buy something?"
"You run the place?"
"No, boobs, I don't. But I am not going to call down old Brutus if you're only here to gawk. He doesn't like being disturbed, and that would sure disturb him."
"Brutus?"
"Yeah. He owns this-this thing here."
"Where would you call him down from?" she asked.
"Upstairs. Where he lives. He's up there writing now. In the middle of his first novel-and you know how shitty temperamental those artists can get."
"I would like one of these stash bags. And a leather ring," she said.
"So I'll call Brutus."
"You do that."
The kid hunched over, sucked in air, made a face as red as the satin lining of Satan's cape, then bellowed at the top of his lungs. "HOT PIECE OF CUNT DOWN HERE, BRUTUS!"
"Did you have to be that graphic?" she asked.
"Well, you are a hot piece of cunt."
"But did you have to tell the block?"
"See, boobs, if I didn't yell that, it would take him twenty minutes to get his ass down here. But when he thinks it's a chick come to see him and not a customer, he breaks balls to get down those steps."
Sure enough, there was an enormous crashing, booming noise as Brutus came down from his quarters on the second floor, charged through a very thick beaded curtain and into the store. He was at least six feet three, weighed two hundred and fifty, and had a beard that looked like something off a lumberjack, hair to his shoulders. He broke into a marvelous, wide-mouthed smile at the sight of her.
"Well, well, well," he said. "What can I do for such a beautiful little hunk of ass like you?"
"You come on strong, don't you," she said, nevertheless smiling at him. She was wondering what kind of cock a man that big would possess, and her hunger to be fucked grew as she considered how long she had gone without sex-the closest to it since Lenny's departure being the hand jobs she had given the man in the movie theater, and that had done nothing for her!
"It's the only way I know," he said.
"I'd like to buy a stash bag and a leather ring, if you're willing to wait on me first."
"First?" he asked, looking perplexed.
"For a man who comes on strong, you surely don't pick up all the dropped clues, do you, Brutus?"
He scratched his head, looked at the kid, who shrugged and continued to watch with interest.
"I'll buy the stash bag and the ring before we go upstairs," she said, illuminating the situation.
"Hey!" Brutus said, clapping his big hands together. "That's a deal, little bit. That sure is a deal!"
He showed her several pieces of work done by Village artisans, finally sold her a six dollar stash bag and a nine dollar leather ring, which he cut and fitted in less than five minutes, his huge hands moving far more dexterously than she would have imagined possible.
Then they went upstairs ...
His pad was a gorgeous one, though decorated quite simply. The walls were a chipped, clean beige, with borders of walnut from when that wood had been plentiful and therefore cheap. The furniture was a conglomeration of things designed and hand-crafted by young Village artisans, things too beautiful and strange ever to be found in the standard furniture store. It had exactly what Lena and Martin's townhouse lacked: character.
When they began kissing, it was gently, and she found that his beard somehow did not get in her way, as she had feared it would. And when it did brush against her, it was not bristly and harsh, but soft and flowing, like hair which grows out of the scalp. She thought he must use some sort of fabric softener or something on it, and she was pleased with that idea-for it indicated that he was considerate of his lovers and wished them to have as good a time as he had.
She dropped hands to his waist and unbuckled his trousers, pulled them down, with his shorts, and worked them off his legs, along with his sandals.
"I like you already," he said. "You have absolutely no pretentions at all. An honest chick, at last."
"I like to get fucked as much as you'll like fucking me," she said. "If that's what you mean."
"That's what I mean," he said, chuckling.
His cock was straining up, hard and quivering like a lance about to be thrust at its target. She grasped it in her hands and knelt on the floor before him. "You're big."
"Not so."
"Yes, yes. Nice and big and fat," she said. She sucked as much of him into her pretty mouth as she could manage, her lovely, soft cheeks bulging with the probing purple knob of his steel dong. Her saliva ran down his shaft and slimed his balls, great and sparsely haired globes that smelled faintly of sperm, as if he had fucked someone recently and had not bothered to wipe up the overflow. The odor quite excited her.
"Let's sixty-nine," she suggested, letting the fat cock out of her mouth, the pleasant fleshy taste lingering on her tongue and making her want fucked more than ever.
They went onto the bed, which was in the next room, pressed together, the warmth of their bodies mingling magically, spiritually as well as physically, causing his dick meat to stiffen beyond mere steelness, stiffen into something as yet unknown, some alloy so tough and unbreakable that there was no name for it. The hot bone lay on her belly and pulsed as they kissed and fondled each other with loving care and mutual enjoyment for the foreplay of sex. She mashed her hot, round tits into his chest, and he went down, suckled her lovely nipples, kissed her flat belly, licked her nearly invisible thatch of thick yellow fuckmound hairs, the delightful delta of her seething cuntpie until they were soaked. Then he found the ripe and blood-filled labes of her cunt, licked the outer rolls of pink-brown flesh with his quick tongue until little Lori Phillips was writhing sensuously on the crinkled sheets, opening her soaked slot to the further insistent probing of his tongue, to the nibbling ecstasy of his teeth, the flow of his hot and excited breath across the palpitating secrets of her woman's treasures, the inner fleshes of her fuckpit.
"Let me suck," she said, longing for the taste of that root which seemed to scar her tummy with its heat and gouge furrows in her with its swift pulsings.
He turned around, managing to keep his face down on her hairy bonehole, and pressed his male bag to her face. Lori rubbed his sac of balls all over her beautiful countenance, smelling the dried sperm, the deep, rich essence of his sexuality. She gasped as he licked between her spread thighs, then began licking his nuts until they were wet and shiny, gleaming with the highlights of the low illumination of the small room, where there were no windows and only one-apparently perpetually burning, lava lamp.
He struck suddenly deep with his tongue, mashing his entire face into the hot smell of her ripe and ready cunt area, sniffing her flowing sex juices that dripped down to lubricate her for the later plunge of his hard, cream-cored fuck-meat which now danced along her face in this oral love position. She bucked, bounced, pressed her young thighs together, around his woolly head as he ate, veritably gobbled, the treasured girlish quim which pulsed and ground and quivered so heavily with excitement that he could feel its movements on and against his loving tongue.
She left his balls, taking her main attention to the rest of his beautiful equipment which was dripping spittle and which hung wetly against her chin. Now his balls, also wet, flopped down on her neck, making her shudder with excitement as she grasped his pecker in her hand. She kissed it, licked off the inevitable swelling of come lubricant, then sucked the hot wang into her mouth again.
She liked to suck cocks, found that no more of a deviation than regular fucking. She knew there were the conservative types, the right-wing war hawks and anti-sex people who would be horrified at the thought of oral sex-or pretended to be publicly. To Lori, it was only another of God's blessings.
She drew Brutus' bloated meat deep into her mouth. It was salty at first, but it soon lost that taste as her mouth devoured the successive films upon it and as a thin trickle of more lubricant dribbled out of it and gave her that familiar bitter-sweet taste that she cherished so much. She wanted the big man to come in her mouth, to taste his hot load as it gushed out of the tiny little meatus slit and fountained into her. Each man, she had found, in her short experiences at sperm-tasting, was subtly different in taste from his fellows, though there were various types of come, various major categories. Just as a man's thoughts were the core of his personality and somewhat unique, a man's spunk was the core of his physical-sexual personality and also unique. She accepted his spunk as easily as his thoughts and loved them equally.
As Brutus ate the lovely girl's lovebox, guzzling the almost unbelievable quantity of sex juices, he felt her spasm and heard a cry of sheer delight catch in her throat as her lithe body responded with a wild, kicking climax, full and heady and marvelously deep within her cute, bouncing cunt. He attacked her dripping hole with more force than ever, sucking it into his mouth, chewing her awfully hard and long clit, which was an even bigger bud than Lisa's had been. She came again, throwing her legs around his neck. He contented himself, then, with licking her tenderly and allowing her to work at drawing the jism from his smooth, almost hairless nuts which she desired more ardently than any girl he had ever seen, as if come were the single food that sustained her.
Lori sucked his tool deep, gurgling happily as she felt a preliminary pulse in the long hunk of fucker, a pulse which was surely the first of many leading toward that enormous swelling which preceded each blast of a man's thick wad. She sucked harder, ran one hand down his thigh, which made him groan. The other hand was at his balls, her little, perfect fingers working them with amazing dexterity and ingenuity, flopping them from side to side of the bag, rolling them gently together, pushing them against the pre-pubescent socket ...
Then the nuts quivered ...
She giggled with his length of steaming, dripping meat still lodged between her lips.
She sucked harder.
She felt the balls draw on their cords, crawling halfway up his drooping sac.
Coming ...
Soon now ...
Thick and tasty ...
She wanted him badly.
She pumped the base of his prick with her small fist while sucking and licking the knob, working and working as expertly as any girl whose mouth had been the receptacle for his love organ-and, he thought as waves of passion and climax burst over him, as good as any girl, anytime, ever would suck him!
Now ... she thought.
Soon ...
His jizz showered put in thick clods of silken, creamy wetness, heavy curds of beautiful joy, which she licked quickly into her mouth so that there would be room for more, swallowing, swallowing, savoring the smell and taste ...
He groaned, rammed dick into her mouth, almost gagging her.
She continued to pump him furiously, happily, and he continued to supply her with the pudding of his testicles, the thick dessert she wished.
Later, when his powers had returned, they did other things as well to pass the New York City afternoon in a bubble of peace and joy and deep contentment ...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Three nights later, at seven o'clock, Lori arrived at the shop, her stomach a little fluttery as she considered what was about to take place. Brutus had told her she was the best fuck he had ever had and that since she was so damned sensuous and ready for it, she would surely enjoy a group sort of thing, with several couples. He asked her to come as his partner to a sex party, and she had agreed, excited by the prospect. Now she was not so certain, for it was another one of those big steps, and this one could be embarrassing as hell before it all ended if they were not the right sort of people.
What she was really worried about, of course, was whether she could measure up to the other girls there. Would she be inadequate, uneducated in the exotic ways of sex?
Oh, shit! she thought. If Brutus told her she was the best, then she was, innately, and she should have no fears.
She pushed open the shop door, went inside where the ten-year-old pointed at the curtain. "Everyone's upstairs."
"You're going to be here?" she asked, incredulous.
"No. Brutus drives me out before it starts. Any minute now, in fact. But I always like to see who comes. Then I go home and jack-off thinking about one of the girls. Tonight-you, I think."
"Gee, what an honor," she said.
"You shouldn't mock, boobs."
"I'm not!" she said in mockery.
"I'll have you know that I've jacked-off to some of the most beautiful women in the world."
"How old are you?"
"My business. But twelve, if you must know."
"Starting early?"
"Maybe. Want to educate me more swiftly?"
"Not at the moment."
"Like I said," the kid said, grinning, "I jacked-off to the best cunts in the world. Monroe. Raquel Welch. Even Goldie Hawn. You name the woman, and if I ain't jacked-off thinking about her, I'll crap right here in my pants out of mortification."
"I have a better idea," she said.
"Huh?"
"If I name a gorgeous woman you haven't masturbated while thinking about her, you can go home and jack-off and make up for the omission."
"No need," he said. "I got you to think of, boobs. Well, I best go before Brutus comes to shoo me. Lock the door behind? Everyone's here."
She agreed, watched him go, then locked the shop door behind him. She paused to get her breath in the darkened store and then went through the beaded curtain, upstairs to where the sounds of laughter and conversation drifted down ...
Upstairs, there were seven people, including Brutus, all in the main room, sitting on the thick carpet and listening to music-Grand Funk Railroad at the moment-and they all turned to look at her as she came into the room, feeling fluttery, still, in her tummy. And when she looked around, she felt even more fluttery, because all the girls were so damned pretty! It had to be this way, did it? The competition was going to be stiff.
Brutus rose and went to her, put an arm around her. "You've got to meet everyone, of course. It's the best thing to do if you plan on going to bed with them." He accompanied her to where he had been sitting, and they both dropped onto the carpet. "This is Milo and Bettina," he said. The man was small, dark, very intense, with eyebrows that met over his nose. He smiled and nodded.
"You're very pretty," Bettina said. She was very pretty herself, and Lori let her know she thought so. Bettina was as dark as Milo, with long, straight black hair and big black eyes in the middle of her olive complexion, more beautiful, in that Grecian manner, than Shana Alexandra had been, though this girl might be Italian of a softer sort than most.
"Bob and Jean," Brutus continued, pointing to a couple that Lori found quite sexually attractive, a Negro couple with Afro hair. Bob was very well muscled, with his shirt off, and the look he gave her was one of a man who vastly enjoys the pleasures of the body and knows how to summon them into full power. Jean was a big-breasted, small waisted black girl with the longest, loveliest legs Lori had ever seen, the legs of a tall girl, perhaps five-ten. She wanted, very much, to see them naked and to be against them, kissing and touching, sucking and screwing with them.
Almost as if the attendees had been chosen for variety, the last couple, John and Sandy, were Aryan types. He was tall, well-built, with hair so blond it was almost white. He resembled one of those actors whose name you never learn but who almost without fail plays only Nazi officers and commandants of police camps and concentration camps. Yet he lacked that touch of cruelty, seemed gently quiet, watchful, intelligent and open. Sandy was gorgeous, perhaps the most beautiful girl, Lori thought, she had ever seen. Sandy was about five-six, and sitting there in shorts, without a bra beneath her tee-shirt, the big brown circles of her nipples visible through the thin cloth, her perfect legs crossed over each other, Lori wondered how she could ever, ever interest any of the men when this beautiful woman was there and available.
"She's perfectly lovely," John said to Brutus.
Lori blushed a little. "So are you two. So is everyone here! I feel like the poor little raggedy kitten lost from home!"
They all laughed, and the ice seemed broken as everyone began to chatter at once. There was wine, a very sweet wine that one could not drink too much of (which was Brutus' purpose in serving it), but which was delicious and refreshing and served to loosen the tongue. There were some snacks, but no one much cared about eating, apparently because they did not want to destroy the nice euphoric haze that the wine had brought to them.
It surprised Lori that the minutes passed and, though sex was one topic of discussion, they did not seem to be anxious to start fucking, to begin the orgy that was the basic purpose of each one of their presences. The conversation flowed naturally, easily. And except for the relevancy of conversation and the lack of inhibitions of vocabulary, much the same sort of conversation could have taken place at any cocktail party anywhere in Middle America.
She found each of the people there interesting, some of them perfectly engrossing, like the black couple, who had spent a year in the Peace Corps, then had returned and used the money saved to rent a loft apartment where both of them painted, earning enough to live on and hoping for discovery somewhere along the line. They were a delightful blend of militant and peacenik, something rare in these days when the subculture was split between pacifists and outright hate mongers and violence junkies. The dark couple, Milo and Bettina were quieter than most, but spoke at length and intelligently about film, which they were involved with. The Aryans, John and Sandy, were both school teachers, which explained their shorter hair, though John's was certainly fuller than the hair of school teachers back in Altoona!
In short, the party was nothing as Middle America described such events. People were not lusting after each other like animals. They were people first. And when they had delved into each other long enough and deeply enough, when they felt they would be relating mentally as well as physically when they got to the sex, they would begin the amorous activities for the evening. Lori hoped they learned to relate very soon, for her cunnie was jumping about with glee at the thought of having several men and women as her lovers, all uninhibited, several of them able to attend her at the same moment ...
At last, at ten o'clock, three hours after the party had begun, they broke out the grass and some hashish and had a smoke, almost a token sort of thing. Lori was a little scared, never .having sampled the stuff, but when they apologized that she would hardly feel anything, probably, because it was her initial experiment, she puffed the drug weed without fear. But she did feel something, though not as much as the rest of them, and by ten thirty, they were dreamy, floating a little, necking and fondling each other.
Soon, she saw that they were all naked, and she slid out of her own clothes, with Brutus' aid, then undressed him, kissing his hot, swollen penis with great pleasure, licking and chewing at the big knob that had given her so much pleasure only a couple of days ago.
Her little snatch pulsed and dripped, and her nipples ached and were hard as pebbles on her lovely tits.
"Why don't we let Lori have a smotherfucking?" Jean asked, her black face split with a grin.
"Smotherfucking?" Lori asked, not understanding what the other girl meant.
"To show you our good will," Bettina said.
"But what is it?" Lori asked, still uncomprehending.
"Smotherfucking?" Jean asked.
"Yeah."
"That's the name we have for it. You might also call it quintralism, if there is such a word. Five people make love at once. You take a cock in your pussy, another in the ass, one in your mouth, and you jerk off the fourth guy."
Lori felt her belly explode at the same time her cunnie did, not certain whether to rebel at the concept or sprawl out and ask for it right away. There was no question that the concept of making it with four guys at once was exciting, but it was also rather awkward, wasn't it? She said as much.
"Not at all," Bettina said.
"You'll love it," Sandy said. "And the guys love it."
"Bet your ass!" Bob said, chuckling.
"But-" Lori said.
"Relax," Bettina said. "Each of us has had it. And we are still in one piece, you see. It's great. You don't know what the hell an orgasm is until you're speared from all directions!"
"But how?" Lori asked.
John had come around to her and was kneading her heavy tits, sitting next to her on the floor, his cock punching out hot and red and ready as any length of meat could ever be. It throbbed against her hip and thrilled deep into her guts, up in her soft cunnie. Her scalp tingled. She wanted that dick so bad! Wanted all of them!
"Spread your legs and get ready," Brutus told her. "We'll be more than glad to show you how, Lori."
"I'm sure you will, you horny bastard!" Jean said, laughing.
Brutus grinned, stroking his meat as he looked across at Lori from where he had moved next to the black girl. "Well, Lori?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" she said as John took her hand and laid it on his cock and balls. "I want you, all of you. And at the same time!"
Her cunnie dripped and dripped ...
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lori spread her fabulous legs, revealing her wet cunt slot, her gleaming, puffed labia. Some of her juice had dribbled through and shone in droplets in her curly yellow thatch. She was more than ready for the reaming, bouncing, slamming length of a male root.
Within a minute, Bob had worked her around on her knees and had fucked his big black cock into her asshole with the aid of two globs of lubricant. She knelt there, squealing as the big man jammed his dick in and out of her shithole with regular, wild rhythm, grasping under her for her big tits, which hung in this position like fleshy pendulums. She came as he stroked into her.
"I can't hold out much longer!" Bob gasped.
"UNGGGHHH ..." she moaned in answer, spasming again as her cunt reacted to the pummeling within the adjacent channel.
"Get in her cunt," Jean urged Brutus. Jean was masturbating herself furiously now, coming herself, her fluids running from her beautiful cunt, down her working fingers, puddling in the cupped palm of her hand, copious amounts of sweet stuffs, juicy traces of the slippery depths of her hungry dark pussy.
Brutus went forward after Bob had maneuvered Lori around and onto his lap while he sat there, spearing into her, his stiff dong doing wonders in her trembling ass. Lori groaned as she saw Brutus' cock moving toward her scarlet loveslot, gasped happily as he worked it into her, spasmed and came when she felt the two marvelous wangs touching through the inside sheath between asshole and vagina.
"You're filled up, pussy," Brutus whispered to her as he stroked in time with Bob's heavy, forceful lunges into her greased bunghole.
"Not yet she isn't!" Milo said. As he came forward, Lori was surprised to see that he had the nicest prick of any of them, though he was the smaller man. It was long and fat and looked so tremendous she wished it had filled her cunt and she had sucked Brutus off instead. "THIS IS FOR YOUR PRETTY MOUTH, Lori," he said, holding the warm meat in his hand.
"Yes ... let me ... suck that lovely pumper ..." she gasped as she was fucked by the two other male rods, each like poles of steel. "Put it in my mouth, Milo. Please. Hurry."
He brought the head of it to her lips, and she kissed it, licked the meat, then took a long lick along the heavy, sensitive underside. As she came again in her youthful, ripe slotbox, she gasped, leaped forward and sucked Milo's penis into her mouth, now furiously trying to draw jism from all three pistoning male dicks.
"You forgot one," John said, coming to her.
She grabbed his wang and began pumping it in her fist. "Come on my face," she said, then returned to sucking Milo's long penis, the taste of come lubricant in her mouth.
Bob reached around her, fondling her bobbling knockers, his own hands grazing Brutus' fingers as the big man squeezed her luscious mounds, too. Her nipples stood impossibly far out, and Brutus lowered his mouth, started chewing on them. He went from one to the other until sparkling saliva slimed the dark nips of both tits.
Lori reached up and took Milo's swinging nuts in her one free hand as she sucked his cock, bounced them so energetically it seemed she must surely be hurting him, though he made absolutely no attempt to stop any of her administrations, seemed eager to have her continue, in fact. His eyes were wide open, and he was fascinated by the sight of the hot, fat wang sliding in and out of her mouth, the thick blue vein wet, the bulbous head spreading her pretty lips to gain entrance much like it would spread the flaps of her labia, between her lovely legs. He grabbed onto her head and helped her pump her mouth down over the dripping length of him. He muttered nothingnesses to her, little cries of joy as she drew him closer and closer and closer and closer still ...
Sandy was between Jean's dark legs, her face pressed into the black girl's sopping crotch her tongue licking, seeking deeply into the slime of her womanhood. Bettina was convulsing with an orgasm as she finger-fucked her beautiful slot ...
"Oh, Christ, fucking goddamned Christ, I'm coming, honey!" Bob moaned, thrusting into Lori's stretched asshole, pounding harder and harder in a furious, bumping effort to give her as much as he could in his last moments before wet explosiveness and thick, hot discharge. Then his spunk was spurting out in thick wads, slimed deep into the recesses of her lovely ripe cuntpot, back where it burned possessively in her deepest fleshes.
"I feel your come ..." Brutus said as Bob blew his nuts off in her asshole. And it was true, divinely true and sensual. Buried in Lori's tight cunt, he could feel the explosions of Bob's jizz in her tight bunghole, could feel the pressure of the rushing wad as it forced itself back her sucking backdoor. The effect of the wild sensation was to bring Brutus closer to his own eruption, and he grabbed her tits more fiercely, bit her soft, tanned shoulders several times as her cunt milked him without his help.
"Come ... fuck it out ..." Lori gasped to the three who had not yet exploded. She sucked harder on the dong thrust out from between Milo's legs, jacked-off John's hard meat more excitedly.
Brutus groaned as he felt his sperm rise. He tried to grit his teeth and fight down the explosion, for he loved the sucking, rippling screwing he had been getting. He tried to think about things other than sex, about the shop and how things were going down there, whether he should stock more of those purses from the Seventy-ninth Street commune ... But it was pointless and silly. That was no way to hold back his desire and check the rising tide of his thick sex cream. There was nothing in the world he could think of to take his mind off Lori's lovely, ripe slot, the heavy tits in his hands, the cock he was watching her beautiful face slobber over and suck deep into her throat. Milo's balls hung above him ... He blasted his pudding down her wet trough, squeezing her tits hard as spasm after spasm jetted hot come into her dribbling pussy.
Milo suddenly arched his back, groaned, and blew his sperm into her mouth. His prick bob-bled out as she tried to swallow the first blast, and the second spurt splattered across her face, ran down her cheek. John, groaning with excitement, fountained in her hand, streaming more cream across the bridge of her pert nose.
Brutus kissed her, licked the come from her face as she squealed with climax after climax and had trouble getting air into her heaving lungs. She understood why it was called "smotherfucking" now. You could damn well smother to death from excitement!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Later, tired of group experiments, they split into couples in various corners of the room where they continued with their lovemaking, taking a break between the end of the group stuff and the start of the individual stuff to draw a few tokes on some hash. But there were times when more intimacy was necessary, and this seemed to be one of those times. Yet they were close enough in the room that they could hear the other's sounds of love, could watch them convulsing in joy if they so chose.
John took her to some pillows in the corner, and they worked into a sixty-nine position, spread their legs so each of them could work their mouths to the fullest and the most loving extent, could suck the juices out of each other and make each other dry with exhaustion. Lori sucked John's cock into her mouth, felt it bulge against her cheeks. She enjoyed that feeling very much. She could taste sperm and cunt fluids, probably the juices of everyone present tonight. But that only added to her excitement, only served to arouse her further. By having the taste of all of them in her mouth at once, it seemed as if she were making love to all of them at once, fucking all seven of them ...
John licked deep into her fuckmound, had her dripping and heaving in short order, pushing her hairy pie against his face for more of the wondrous torture he perpetrated on her.
She clasped her fleshy thighs around his head, burying his face in her warm and tender, perfumed cunt. Perfumed by the musky secretions engendered by her lust. There was cuntsop and spilled sperm and birth control foam, and the heady aroma made him eagerly consume her as she consumed him.
He sucked her outer labes into his mouth, wallowed the dangling fleshy strips about, as if savoring pieces of filet mignon or some other succulent steak.
In turn, she sucked on his hairy balls, taking them, one at a time, into her soft mouth. A drop of jizz appeared at the end of his cock, and she went back and licked that away, loving the creamy texture and taste of it.
John spat out the wet labes and thrust his face hard into her cunt. His nose slid into her channel, and he dragged his face up, licking his tongue in, then trying to force his entire chin in, too.
"What the shit are you doing?" she gasped, wanting more of whatever it was.
He did not raise his head from the full banquet at which he was dining, but worked more lovingly in answer to her question. He began laving her entire crotch with his fast tongue, licking and licking and licking and deliriously, marvelously, sweetly licking ... Her thatch was soaked with saliva, and he was dampening the insides of her thighs, her ass cheeks and the crack between them, her asshole, and finally her cunt, tonguing deep and fast until Lori was coming, raising her leg to give him better sucking room, forgetting about his suckable cock, letting it dangle against her face, just coming and coming and oblivious to all else ...
John mounted her next, worked his hard penis between her legs and thrust his pounding, blood-filled log of cunt-pumping meat into her lovely sex jelly.
"Oh, Johnny, Johnny ... fuck me, darling!" she wailed as he possessed her completely.
He came down on her, lifted her up off the floor a little, holding her cradled in his arms while his man's organ did its fine and precious job between her gorgeous, twisting legs.
She cuddled against his neck, delirious with pleasure.
Her tits mashed against his chest, her nipples burning hard into his flesh, like rivets taken just recently from the basket, still glowing red.
She sucked and milked his cock with her hot snatch, rippling her countless hundreds of inner flesh folds with skill, faster and faster as if they were on a merry-go-round whose speed was picking up with every revolution.
His arms encircled her.
He pumped.
Humped ...
Fucked his dick into her steaming trench ...
"Kiss me, Lori," he said, his tongue licking at her lips.
And she kissed him.
Deep ...
Wet ...
Long ...
As he penetrated her, pumped and humped and banged and shagged and balled the shit out of her gooey little slot ...
"Lovely, lovely Lori," he moaned in her ear, after they broke the kiss to catch their breath.
She exploded into orgasm, cuddling him, gripping him tightly at the same time, clawing his back with her nails as the ecstasy became almost too much to bear, mashing her tits hard against this hairy chest ...
And he spat his sloppy, thick cock milk up into her convulsing twat ...
* * *
In their very well-appointed townhouse, Lena and Martin kissed passionately, rubbing their naked bodies together. There was a heavy sound of breathing in the bedroom, and the thump of his heart so audible it seemed it would burst very soon.
"Fuck me now?" she asked, worried that the hard, steely dick would wilt and die, as it did more often than not. That wasn't such an uncommon event. Many men wilted, quite often. But with Martin, it was final for the night. Unlike other men, it would not get stiff again later when it realized what it had missed.
"You're lovely," he said.
"Fuck me, please."
He rolled on top of her and slid between the legs she spread so readily. He looked down, at her, felt his prick pulse as he guided it to the trembling wet labia that concealed the channel of heaven behind, the tunnel of her perfect, tight quim.
She pushed her crotch up, urging him with the writhing, heated need of her sensuous body. For a woman in her late thirties, she was a stunning girl, firm and ripe and as fuckable as she had been the day they were married.
He rubbed the knob of his penis against her steamy twat hole, then slid it into her.
"Yes, Marty! Yes, yes, yes, darling!"
"God, so hot!" he said.
"Hot for you."
He pushed hard, pumped a second or two, then slid the hard prick to the balls in her tight quim. His belly slapped against hers as he collapsed on her, and he called her name softly in time with the booming strokes of his needful, pleasure-giving dong. His nuts slapped between the halves of her ass ...
"Oh, Marty, harder!" she groaned, arching her back, pushing her breasts into his face.
He was not going to go soft and limp tonight. She could tell that he would last and that it would be good, what she wanted and needed. She reached around his hip and grasped his swinging testicles in her hand. They were vibrating, quivering in their sac. No! No, damnit, no, no, no, she wouldn't let that happen! She wouldn't let him cream his balls before she was thrust over the edge and had her own climax. That happened almost as often as his failure to stay hard.
She let go of the full nuts to keep from disturbing them any more than she already had. She rammed herself at him as if the roles had somehow reversed and she had become the man, fucked faster and faster, trying to make it to Paradise before those quivering globes spat their fluid. But there was simply not going to be enough time. She sensed that, knew it intuitively. She felt his staff stiffen and swell in preparation for the spurting of his nutjuice.
"Creamy cunt ..." he said. He had always liked to talk with her when he was coming, liked to tell her about the sweetness and slipperiness and tightness of her hot vagina. Later, he would deny he had ever used these words he spoke now. "My Lena ... hot ... fucking little cunt ... fuckjelly ... baby, baby, NOW, NOW NOW NOW!"
His burning sperm slopped into her, the teeming mites swimming up her sucking channel in search of something to fertilize-where they would find nothing.
Another gooey wad of it ...
And then a final sputtering ...
Marty rolled off her, flopped onto his back, his limp penis wet with strings of sperm and the creamy clear juice of her cunt. In seconds, he was asleep, lying there almost like a baby, like a child-certainly not like a man. And she was left incomplete, desiring her own climax, her own moment of pleasure which he had not-as usual-been able to supply her.
Lena got up, her knees weak and her thighs stiff. She felt as if she had been drugged, then tortured. He cunnie ached, like the socket from which a tooth has been pulled, ached to be filled up and satisfied. Her tits were hot, the nipples impossibly tight. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she tiptoed across the room, through the door and down the hallway to the bathroom. His come dribbled through her sex lips and down her thighs, hot wads of creamy come.
In the bathroom, she put the lid of the commode down and sat on it! From the cabinet beside the toilet, she withdrew a plastic, prick-sized personal vibrator. She plugged it in, set the speed for slow, and thrust the artificial penis into her dripping slot.
The bathroom seemed to sway, dissolve, reform, dissolve, over and over as her cunt responded to the jiggling tease of the manufactured pussy pleaser.
If it could only be Marty ...
She groaned softly.
She came.
Sperm and cuntsop ran down her legs. She tried to pretend that the sperm was from this organ, the plastic one, that she was receiving real, honest loving. It almost worked. Not quite ...
She sucked the instrument clean, dried it on a towel. She washed her legs, sopped the juices off her cunt labes, and dried herself. She felt much better.
She went downstairs, into the living room, through into the kitchen.
She got a glass of orange juice.
She carried it from room to room on the bottom floor, admiring their house.
She touched the fabric of the sofa.
She stared, as if for the first time, at the crystal chandelier in the dining area.
That had cost four hundred dollars.
She thought how lucky she was.
Sex, after all, was such an esoteric thing.
An animal drive, really.
Sure it was.
This was what counted.
Comfort.
Pure comfort.
They had everything they could possibly want, didn't they?
Sure they did.
They had comfort.
What else was there?
She finished her juice and went to bed.
* * *
Lori had her wonderful legs locked behind Milo's back, forcing his swollen wang as deep as possible into the steaming hole between her legs. She worked her cunt muscles expertly, and he was wildly joyous as he plunged his hard meat home again and again, right to the fat hilt, his balls even pressing into the wet slit a little. He like Lori immensely and told her so with each sucking, pounding thrust into her tunnel. This kind of hard, wild fucking would drive some girls insane, or hurt them, but Lori took it and humped her butt off the floor for more. Indeed, her need and drive had scared him a little at first when he found he could do his most forceful screwing and still leave her wanting more and more.
She groaned under him as he thrust, running the bone of his manhood along the top of her lovely tunnel, irritating the clitoris as much as possible. He had been holding her perfect ass cheeks as he stuffed his horn into her, but with her legs locked behind his back, that was not necessary. He slid his hands up to her magnificent breasts and fondled them, drawing out the impossibly long nipples. He thought they must be a full inch in length when they were fully excited-like they were now.
She came.
She came heavily, crying, bucking and bouncing.
Her rich fuck flesh squeezed his dong like a vise, tighter and tighter as she erupted and seemed to be trying to pinch off her peak or stretch it out so that it would last.
"UNNGGHHH ... UNGGHHHH!" Her pretty mouth went slack, her eyes wide and rolled slightly back in her head.
He thought she would probably ask him to fuck his rocks off now, so that they could fall apart and rest, but she did not. Instead, she continued to flex her inner muscles, continued to pump him vigorously. This was a chick who needed to come again and again, perhaps even more than any girl he had ever fucked. She had a terrific driving sexual energy, and he began to fear she would drain him dry of bodily fluids before she was done.
She bounced.
Bucked ...
Heaved ...
She twisted back and forth as if she were trying to break his cock in half. The new movement caused her to spasm again, and when she did, Milo felt his nuts give up their battle, and the thick slop of his load spurted into her cunt which so eagerly thirsted after his male drink.
Her cunt continued to suck at his cock, for she wanted more, wanted fucked until her appetite was whetted for some time to come. He found that he shrank only partially, becoming semi-turgid. To his surprise, and sheer delight, she made him pull out, then scooted down on her ass until her face was in his crotch. She took the sperm and cunt-sticky wang between her lips and sucked him into iron again. The sight of her lovely, hungry face gobbling his prick made him want to take her again, so soon after the last moment of completion.
He pulled out of her mouth and started to urge her up, but she did not want exactly what he wanted.
"Shoot into my stomach," she said.
"You want me to punch it through your belly button?" he asked, grinning at her.
"No!" She had read this in a book she had picked up at the Doubleday shop, a book on marital relations. She was too excited to be in the mood for light banter now. "Into my stomach. Not in my mouth. I want your cock stuffed down my throat!"
"It's too big!" he gasped.
"No it isn't."
"You'd choke!"
"Not if you do it right," she said, seeing that the idea appealed to him and that he needed very little more coaxing.
"Lori, look-"
"Fuck my throat, Milo!"
"But--"
She picked up the pillow they had used under her ass earlier, when he had been pronging her fuckbox. Now, she placed it under her lovely shoulders and hung her head backwards, down over the pillow. "Come around in front of me, or behind my head rather, and fuck it down my throat."
With a mixture of eagerness and reluctance, he obliged. When she opened her mouth, he could see far down her wet throat. He stuffed the head of his cock in her mouth, then slid it to the base, his ball bag hanging down over her nose, his pubic hairs mashed into her mouth, sprouting around her lips.
"See," he said, pulling quickly out, "you couldn't do it, Lori."
"You just kept it in too long!" she said, as if she were exasperated with him.
"What?"
"Only keep it shoved in my throat for a couple of seconds, then pull it back into my mouth-not clear out, either-so that I can breathe. It's that simple. You got that?"
"Yeah," he said, nodding.
"Beautiful big pussy fucker," she said.
"Mouth fucker."
"That too."
She opened her mouth.
He slid his cock in and watched as it sucked into her throat. He stroked it to the hilt, pulled back into her mouth, then rammed it deep again. She kept swallowing, which made her throat muscles contract on him like cunt walls, only tougher, tighter, more exhilarating.
"Soon!" he gasped.
He pumped faster, aware that she could not be hurt, that she knew what she was doing.
His prick head swelled for explosion.
She sucked, tongued and pulsed her throat so furiously that his nerves began to blank out from the excessive, unbearable, delightful but intolerable stimulation. His entire body trembled and shook with explosions of pleasure.
His balls slapped her face.
Her hands reached up and massaged his hips, grabbing his ass and urging him into her throat.
He was ready to come ...
Lori was having orgasm after orgasm, even though no one was touching her steamy little cunt. Just sucking him into her throat like this seemed to set her off. There was even juice trickling down her smooth thighs ...
"Now! NOWNOWNOW!" he gurgled, slamming down her throat, mashing balls and hair into her nose.
He moaned.
His sperm spattered down her throat, a thick wad of it.
He thought-though it could only be sheer fantasy-that he could hear the spunk splashing in her stomach.
His heaving nuts gave up more.
He did not know where it could possibly be coming from.
Water ...
Long and watery, but still coming ...
She gurgled, climaxing again ...
At last, exhausted and dry, he pulled from her mouth, rolled over and clung to her. They lay there, silent, kissing, and happy for a long while. They whispered and talked, touched and kissed, and were walls against the loneliness of the world ...
* * *
At that same moment, the city's most pictorial daily paper, a sheet not known for its objectivity or for its intellectualism, was preparing a series of articles on the moral degeneracy of youth. Several of them were to do with the orgy method of love, the group sex sessions. The idea was to present the average Middle American with titillation while pretending that the subject deserved his attention as a great social problem of the day. That way, Middle American could read all the semi-erotic stories and get his / her jollies out of them while using the facade of clinical interest to justify this preoccupation with sexual detail and the sexual lives of other people. Color it social conscience and forget that nasty word voyeurism. Middle Americans would never be voyeurs. My, my, no. They didn't believe in free love, and stuff like that. They only read about it to protect their children from falling into its clutches. And besides, you know that these people who are advocating more liberal sex codes and a deeper understanding and freedom of the body, why you know that all of them have some relationship with the Communist Party, don't you? Well, of course. And so you have to read about them.
At the same moment, the same paper was preparing its latest pro-war reports. It had carefully avoided mentioning the fact that a number of the people supporting an anti-war amendment in Congress were veterans of the Second World War and of Korea, choosing to infer that most of them were either moral or physical cowards. After all, a man could not have a justified reason for being against traditional imperialistic values, could he? He had to be against America, didn't he? Sure he did. Sure. It was as simple as that. Very simple. Simple ...
The same readers who read the anti-youth news, the half-true, dream-concocted stories about sexual freedom and the unloving nature of it, read the war news, the pro-war reports, the attacks on the people who wanted peace, if even honorably. They made tongue clicking noises and gasps at the sexual freedom stories. They talked together and condemned people who were so interested in sex. They read the war stories and cheered the men, spoke approval of the enemy body counts. They lauded those who had fallen in combat, though they never remembered the names of the dead that, now and again, cropped into the news when the dead man happened to be the son of someone of minor importance (the sons of famous or important members of the establishment never seemed to die in war) or had died in some unusual manner. They shouted denunciations of those who would put soldiers on trial for killing women and children by the scores in a small hamlet of South Vietnam. Such, after all, were the mistakes and misjudgments of war, the Middle Americans said. Most of them even refused to believe it. War was nice. Sex was dirty.
The next day they would vary the news.
The story on war first.
Then the story on the sexually piggish youth.
Knowing there were good American boys protecting us made the threat of these sexually liberated kids less frightening.
The gun still ruled, not the penis. And the sexually inadequate violence freak was still the American ideal ...
Meanwhile, eight naked people in Brutus' pad sat around the kitchen table, a long thing with many chairs, and ate omelets which the host produced well and regularly to meet the demanding hunger of the exhausted people there. When it was over, they reluctantly agreed it was time to go home, and they dressed and left the little apartment above the leather shop, all thoughts of war far removed from their minds ...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The rest of that summer went by like a film, so quickly, frame after frame zooming past from the present into the has-been, the future rushing on like unspooling celluloid. There were many more affairs of group love, with a few new people, but mostly with those same ones that had been at the first meeting. Brutus showed her around the city, closing his shop on some of the nicest days, when the oppressive cloud blanket was not there and when the heat was not as intolerable as it usually was after spring departed and took its reasonableness with it. They educated each other, bit by bit, but she thought she gained the most from him. He introduced her to some writers she had never known, Kafka being one she exceedingly enjoyed-his dark visions somehow indicative of the mood of America these days, chilling and cold and without too much human sympathy. She also read Nabokov for the first time, amazed at the intricacy and beauty of Ada, feeling that it was more exciting, intellectually, than Lolita had ever been. They went to films, both those of underground filmmakers and of established people with talent. She saw Visconti's The Damned and felt that it was the most brilliant film she had ever seen. Brutus, who was far more educated in film with far more films seen, agreed with her. Visconti was a genius, at least in this film, and he was waiting impatiently for his next major effort.
"The only bad moment of the summer-aside from the tedium of having to spend certain days and meals with her Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin, was in the week before she was to return home. It was then that Lenny came back early from work, ten days early, in fact.
She was sleeping in one morning, when she began to come out of the layers of sleep over her to a warm feeling between her legs. Then she felt the hard lump of a cock buried in her cunt, and she woke fully, confused. She looked over her shoulder (for she was lying on her tummy) and saw her uncle and aunt's son naked, his face twisted with the pleasure he felt from stroking his hot meat into her sucking little vagina.
"Lenny!"
"Who else?" he asked, grinning.
"But I thought you weren't supposed to be back until well after I was gone!"
"Changed my mind. Been thinking about your cute little body all summer and nearly going out of my mind. So I split work early. We've got six days to ball it up."
"Ummmmm ..." she said, as his long snaky dick plunged deep. "Where's your mother and father?"
"Out. Another art auction. It's Tuesday, and you should know where they are."
"I haven't been here much, just to sleep and eat now and then."
"Well, we have several hours to fuck ourselves silly!" He reached under her and grabbed her tits, groaned as she worked her cunt as she had learned to this summer. "You're even better at fourteen!" he said.
She giggled.
He stroked his massively long wang deep into her heated sex pudding, but he was too ready, too primed, to keep it up long enough to make her come as fully as himself. He shuddered, pulled his aching root out of her tight young quim and shot an enormous wad of spunk up over her bouncing ass and back, the largest wad she had ever seen. Four long, drenching spurts of the gooey stuff slimed over her, warm and fertile, as he whimpered and heaved and jacked his dick off with his hand for the last two or three strokes.,
He pulled his cock off of her, dripping hot sperm over across her legs, and collapsed on the bed next to her. "When I get up again, I'll take care of you, too. I was just so ready." He grabbed a handful of hankies and cleaned the sticky come off her back, off his limp organ.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Ten o'clock. I got in at nine-thirty."
"Don't waste much time, do you?" she asked.
He grinned. "Not where that cute cunt of yours is concerned."
"Well, if you want another piece of it," she said, "you'll have to rip it off soon, because I have to be down in the Village by eleven."
"Oh, you can go sight-seeing tomorrow," he said.
"I have to meet a friend," she said.
"Call her and tell her you're not feeling well."
"It is a man, not a girl."
He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Lives in the Village, has a shop there."
"Been spreading that butt around, eh?" He laughed and slapped her ass.
She said nothing. She suddenly felt as if she were about to see a side of Lenny that had never appeared before.
"Well, tell him you're sick," he insisted.
"I can't, Lenny."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to, for one thing."
He frowned, then got a childish pout on his face. "You could, though."
"No, Lenny, dear. Let me suck you hard and then fuck me. But then I have to go."
"What's he got that I haven't?" he asked.
"Well, we have things to talk about."
"So do you and I," he said.
"Not the same sort of things."
"Well, what do you talk about with him?"
"Oh, Proust and Geller and Philip K. Dick."
"Who are they?"
She smiled. "Writers. But you see what I mean?"
He sulked a while, not looking at her. "I forbid you to go there anymore," he said.
She laughed. "Oh, now, Lenny, what do you mean forbid?"
"Just what I said."
"Well, I don't see how you can do that."
"I can tell my folks you're fucking with this Village creep, that's what I can do."
"You think they'd believe you?"
"They always do," he said smugly.
"Perhaps. But if you do tell them, you silly shit, I'm going to tell them how often you've had your dork in my little quimmy pie and in my little fourteen-year-old mouth-and in my asshole too."
"They wouldn't believe you."
"Oh no?"
"No."
"What if I described your dinger to them, the shape and size and coloration? What if I told them about the birthmark on your left ass cheek? What if I told them about the fact that one of your testicles is larger while the other is small?"
He blanched, looked as if he would be sick. "You little bitch."
"You little child," she countered.
"I've proven I'm a man!" he said.
"Genitally, yes. Mentally, no. Emotionally, no. And even genitally, you suffer in technique."
He leaped onto her then, holding her down, slapping her face back and forth, his face a livid mask, his eyes bulging, his breath coming like air blown in and out of a bellows. She had pressed the wrong button. When she had come to the city, at the beginning of the summer, they had been nearly equals, though he was five years older than she. Now, in two months, he had not matured at all, and she had matured immensely. And he was a child, not a man. Like his father, she thought. And he would, more than likely, remain that way all of his life.
His cock was hard, hard from the excitement of beating her.
He was gurgling, hissing and whimpering like a little boy.
Very deftly, she brought her knee up into his balls.
He yelped, gagged.
He fell off her, gasping for breathing and crying from the intense pain in his testicles.
"You whore!" he managed to wheeze.
"You're the whore," she said, getting out of bed. "You're the one who thinks in terms of cock and balls and cunt and gains. You don't think in terms of affection or interest in the other person. I can see that now. Sex, to you, is for your own pleasure-and maybe to bind someone to you. But you're not anything but a whore, a whore of a different stripe. Now get the hell out of here before I tell your folks what you did to poor little defenseless me and to hell with what stories you tell in return!"
"You-" He managed to get to his feet, still wracked with pain. "You can't-"
"Get the hell out of here, Lenny!"
And he was gone.
The rest of that week, she spent out of the house as much as she could, and she did not see him again. And it was a good week, especially since she knew, when she left, it would only be for a little while, and soon she would be back in the city, on her own, freer, with Brutus again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"So," Robbie Marshall said as they sat in the drive-in lot waiting for it to get dark enough for the first movie to begin, "can you tell me now what happened at your place?"
She had told him something big had transpired the first week she had been home from the city, but refused to go into it until they were at the drive-in, out of traffic, and she could have his undivided attention. "Well," she said now that she had just that, "I'm going to be entering school in the second term at Columbia."
"In New York?" he asked, mouth loose.
"That one. The University."
"But your parents have always fought advancing you to where you should be in school!" he said, "What made them come around now?"
She told him about New York, about her affair with her cousin, about her phony aunt and uncle, about meeting Brutus and the group sessions. And about the scene with Lenny and the nastiness of that.
"But that still doesn't explain your parents' turnabout."
"Near the first part of July, round in there somewhere," Lori said, "Brutus knew my whole background and he persuaded me to go to Columbia and see if I couldn't be accepted. I went, took a high school equivalent test, and IQ test. They had my records shipped up from school. Every day for a week, I went in for interviews. They like, now and then, to pick up a child genius, good for publicity and all that. Besides, I fascinated the psychology people. So I can get in second semester. Too late for first semester admittance by then."
"But your parents could refuse."
"They didn't. I had all the old arguments beaten down. They said my college fund was too small and they couldn't afford college for me yet."
"And you said?"
"That Columbia was going to give me a full scholarship for tuition and books."
"Great! But there's still dorm and food and all that."
"That's what they said."
"And?"
"I dropped the bombshell," Lori said, giggling.
"Bombshell?"
"I told them I had had an affair with a young Village shop owner for most of the summer, had slept with him most every day, and that I could live with him. He had gone to Columbia himself, was working at being a successful writer-with eight short stories sold so far-while the leather shop supported him. He would give me a place to live and food, and I'd take care of the shop a while. Besides, we were in love when I left, at least some, and I suppose we will be when I go back."
"And they didn't tan your butt and take away all your privileges?" Robbie asked.
The first picture started as the lot light went down, and color danced across the screen.
Neither of them paid any attention to it.
"At first, they threatened to," she said.
"I can imagine!"
"But I talked them down. I grew up even further this summer, and I used every intellectual weapon against their backwards outlook that I could find. And I was able to find a pretty damn many of them. They waged war for two days, and finally began to see that nothing could be salvaged now. For two days more, there was a feeling that I was a lost, spoiled, sex-crazed little bitch, whom they should alternately pity and be disgusted with. Then, slowly, they began to see that I was not some nymphomaniac, and not some moralless little slut. My morals were just different than theirs, that's all."
"And they saw that?"
"Only because I worked at making them see it."
"They're rare parents."
"Rarer than most, I guess. They're not completely blocked off from rationality, not completely locked up in their hang ups. I won't say they approve of it, but they can live with it. And when I get that silly college degree when I'm seventeen or eighteen, they're going to be pleased and proud, and they know it."
They talked for a long while then, about books, and Lori was pleased to see that he had not used the summer unwisely. Then, slowly, teasingly, they began kissing, necking, working against each other's mouths, with tongues and teeth and rubbing against the lumps of sexual delights that protruded from each other: his cock and balls, her big, unfettered tits.
"They've grown a little," he said.
"So have you," she laughed, grasping his swelling dick.
He pulled the panties out from under the miniskirt she wore, pushed her sweater above her tits. He played with her lovely knockers and with the hairy little cunt between her legs.
In response, she freed the massive length of his hungry penis, and went down between his legs, sucking the hot tool with a great deal of interest in him. She made the perfect lover, for sex was not a duty and not a sin to her-sex was a joyous, resounding physical paradise that should be enjoyed to its fullest. He enjoyed as she did ...
On the screen, the large, radioactively contaminated dinosaur, larger than the largest buildings in the city, chased through the streets after King Kong, demolishing the Japanese city with gay abandon. People ran screaming, as showers of bricks and mortar and twisted lengths of steel rained down on them.
Lori dragged his pants to his ankles and licked between his legs at his balls. She liked the smell, the taste of him. He pushed his baggage at her, urging her to greater heights of sensation.
On the screen, Kong and the dinosaur were engaged in a vicious battle, a battle of Titans to end all battles of Titans. They thrashed, bit, kicked and clawed at each other as the girl-who was the prize over which they fought, cowered in a torn dress on the ledge of the building where Kong had deposited her in order to fight the rotten lizard better. You could have sympathy with Kong. Never with that goddamned lizard.
Lori lay on the seat while he brought the head of his hard cock against her slimed cunt labes, rubbed the heavy, blood-gorged wang along her minor labia, then separated her channel and teased it with an inch of the glorious pussy fucker.
On the screen, the hero was steadfastly trying to make his way to the heroine where she cowered in abject fear on the exceedingly narrow ledge beside the battling monsters. She was too terrified to move, and it was up to him to save her. But the boom roar of the battle shook the very foundations of the structure, and made clinging to the ledge more than a little harrowing, worse than sitting through a political speech by the Vice President. The huge beasts snarled, growled, made each other plead as all of Tokyo shook to its rock base.
Robbie slammed his wang deep into Lori's seething cunt, balls bounding off her round, smooth ass.
"Unnnmmmmmmmmm ..." she moaned as the first fuck in over a week began.
"Just as sweet and warm and tight as ever," Robbie said, moving his long prick in and out at a steady, wonderful rhythm, her sex pudding drawing on it almost as thoroughly as her mouth had. She rippled the walls of her twat as she had learned to do, and continued that when she found how much he liked it. He had apparently never had a girl do that to him before.
He grabbed her tits.
He thumbed the nipples.
She knew he was straining to hold out until she had come, burst, reached her own Heaven.
And then she was teetering on the brink. Her pussy was dripping, convulsing, and her nipples felt as if they had exploded.
"Creamy ... creamy ... cunt ... pie ... cuntpie ..." he gasped as he fucked the hell out of her.
This was good sex. Not of the sort her uncle and aunt had between them. Not of the sort Lenny had wanted. Not of the sort Middle America would approve of. She reveled in being liberated, unchained, her own woman, without the rules of celibates applying to her.
She came ...
Come juice ran out her cunt on each outward stroke of Robbie's big penis.
She never wanted this to stop. Never, ever, go on forever.
But she also wanted him to come. So she milked him more furiously than before, faster and faster, calling things to him as he reamed her lovebox with his expert tool.
"I'm coming, Lori," he moaned, his balls jerking in their hairy sac.
On the screen, the hero saved the heroine from disaster, from the clutches of the monsters-while in the car, Robbie's thick come had burned out of his balls, spattered across her tummy where his hot dick lay, shooting gooey wads of essence up to the base of her tits. She grabbed him and hugged him, making the come run down her sides as he fell against her. Life was so goddamned beautiful if you could grow and enjoy it fully. She wished more people would ...
