Heather was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in America.
She belonged to one of the most powerful families in the world.
Anything she wanted, she got.
Drugs, money, sports cars.
What she loved the most was sex.
Mink coats were nothing to her.
But a man with a big erect cock-now that was what she lived for.
And if she managed to get stoned and drunk first, well, so much the better!
I thought that lives like Heather's were the stuff of myths.
I thought they never happened in real life.
That is, until I became one of her men.
The guy who could give her what she really wanted most.
Kinky, wild sex. The kind a jet-set nympho likes.
If you think my story is way out, just imagine how I felt as Heather and I fucked our way into a wild, wild adventure of a lifetime. one
"I hate that guy."
I was surprised to hear this from Heather's lips.
"But you're getting married to him!"
"Oh, I am, but that's just because his family and my family decided we should marry the day I was born."
Heather, you see, belonged to one of the richest and most prominent of families in the whole Eastern upper class establishment.
Me? I was just some guy she had gone to college with.
She went to that school because every member of her family had.
I went there on a scholarship.
In fact, I would never have MET, let alone made friends with, a girl of Heather's status if I hadn't been one of the biggest drug-dealers on campus.
Ah, but that was five years ago.
Nowadays, I was clean as a whistle and all grown up, a working engineer, with career and a girlfriend of my own.
And there I was at Heather Sedgewick's wedding to Charles Dale.
Charles was a slimy brat, but he was rich, and he had always been a good customer of mine when I was a drug-dealer back in college.
It was something like an hour before the ceremony.
I was all starched in my tuxedo. My fiancee was milling around jabbering a mile a minute with the bridesmaids and the other girls.
She wanted to hear all about the latest society gossip-Rockefellers, Fords, Kennedys-for all I knew, everyone who was anyone was at this wedding.
Heather took me aside, away from the bevy of maids of honor, and walked me around the back of the chapel.
"I'm throwing my life away. I hate this society crap. I'm a beautiful woman and I'm marrying that fucking slimy ass-hole."
"It won't be that bad, Heather. You'll see."
She was gorgeous, too.
Underneath her wedding gown she wore a corset that pushed her already-big and bouncy tits way up to make her cleavage the deepest crack thrs side of the San Andreas fault.
Each one of the pearls around her neck must have been much happier resting upon her warm tits than it had been inside some oyster in the bottom of the ocean.
She made my fiancee look plain by comparison.
"God, Mark, you're the only one I can talk to around here. Everybody else grew up with all this rich upper-class bullshit, and you're the only clown to earth guy I know."
"Charles isn't so bad, Heather."
Her hair, her eyes, her lips.
Christ, I always DID have a hard-on for that girl, but I never dared dream that I would ever sleep with her. It was just thrill enough to sell dope and cocaine to her back in college!
"Yes he is. You know, he refused to have sex with me until we were married!"
"Really?"
"You know how many lonely nights I've had to lie awake at night in my apartment, masturbating with a vibrator."
"How many?"
"None! Because I've been fucking everybody I could get my hands on."
"Hah hah. That's funny. Look, you're a beautiful bride, and it's time we went back into the chapel."
"I'm not going back in there. I'm not marrying him. No way."
Having known Heather all those years, I knew she was wont to have little childish scenes like this one when she was crabby.
"You still don't have any blow, do you?"
"Heather, I haven't dealt drugs for years."
She looked to the left and then to the right. No one was within range.
"Come with me."
She grabbed me by the hand.
With her other hand, she lifted up her huge skirt so that she could walk quickly.
She started to pull me in the direction of the parking lot.
"Hey! Where are you taking me!"
"I got some stuff in the car. It's not as good as the shit you used to push, but it'll getcha off!"
"Hey!"
She pulled me as she ran down the parking lot to the little red Italian sports car she had gotten as a birthday present from one of her rich uncles.
"Christ," she said, kicking off her shoes, "I never could run in these damn things!" She opened the door and got in. I hesitated. This was highly unusual! "Get in! Come on!" I got in.
"Shut the door." I did.
She opened up the glove compartment, and took out a small glass jar containing white powder.
"Reminds me of our Ivy League days," she said, tapping some out onto a mirror and cutting some lines.
"Hah hah! I haven't done this shit since college."
"I have," Heather said and snorted a huge thick line of coke.
I snorted myself a line and felt that old familiar rush.
"This is fun," Heather said, relaxing in the bucket seat. "I'm glad we could do this, Mark. You're a good friend."
As I snorted another line of coke, I allowed the euphoria to come over me and wipe away the anxieties.
I chalked this little episode up to her being a nervous bride.
"Feel better, Heather?"
"Much. Let's smoke a joint."
The next thing I knew we were toking a fat jay, laughing and reminiscing of some of the wild adventures that we had had with our friends back in college.
"...and those same people are now standing inside that chapel," Heather spoke, "acting as if they never did anything the least bit out of line. Hypocrites. I hate them, and I'll be goddamned if I'm going to marry one of them."
I stared at the glow in her cheeks as she spouted off her anger. She was adorable, all ruffled and disheveled in that frilly white gown, slumped over the steering wheel of the sports car.
Yeah, I admit it.
I had a hard-on.
But I didn't think anything would come of it.
I stuck my hands in my pockets for a second. I pushed my cock up to where its bulge would be less noticeable.
"Got a hard-on?" Heather said, noticing.
"No," I lied, "just a little squeezed in this damn tuxedo."
She reached underneath the seat and pulled out a bottle of gin.
She took a healthy swig and offered the bottle to me.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's okay," she said. "Nothing to be ashamed of." I didn't say anything, but took a nice swig of the gin.
"Whoa!" I said when the liquor hit me like a ton of bricks. "Nothing like the good stuff!"
"Hey, I stole it from Daddy's private stock!"
There was a moment of silence.
"You're all right, Heather," I said in a soft voice, and reached over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm gonna be sad to lose you to that ass-hole."
She was a little choked up. She wasn't used to displays of affection like that. She had grown up in a very stuffy world.
"I knew you had a hard-on," she said, her voice cracking.
Heather turned on the radio to the loud rock station and cranked the volume up way, way, loud.
She slumped to one side and rested her head on my shoulder.
She swigged the bottle and said, "Mark, I don't wanna marry that clown. I hate him. I hate him so much."
"Shhhhh. Have another toke. If you have to marry him, you might as well be stoned."
Once a druggie, always a druggie, I guess. I sat there, fully aware of the time, fully aware that in a half-hour she had to walk clown the aisle, and still I was plying her with drugs and alcohol.
"Quaalude?"
"Didn't know you had any!" She did. She took two out of the glove compartment.
"I suppose you stole these from Daddy's private stock, too?"
"Fuck YOU!" she teased me back, and reached down and squeeze my cock through my pants. "Owww!"
She washed the pill down with a gulp of gin.
"Well, I guess it's now or never," Heather said. I thought that meant she was going to get out of the car, and we were going to walk back to the chapel, and she was going to get married to Charles Dale, stoned and drunk and coked up.
Instead, she turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"
"We're getting out of here, boy."
The car lurched into reverse, and then, after laying a patch of rubber on the parking lot asphalt, we sped down the lot and onto the main road.
"Heather! This is fucked up! You're gonna get us killed!"
She reached over and kissed me on the cheek. "You're cute," she said, and barreled down the road.
She pushed a button on the dashboard.
"Reach up and do me a favor, Mark? Unlatch the roof. Let's take the top down. It's a nice day for it."
I undid the latch, and the top buzzed and hummed down.
And there we were speeding down the road away from the wedding, the wind in our hair, and my cock harder than a slap of granite.
Heather grabbed her sunglasses, the kind that wrap around your head, and put them on.
"So where are we driving to, anyway?"
"Far away."
The radio blared, and the next twenty minutes were ones of complete disbelief for me.
Eventually, she turned off the main road, and slowed down.
"Mark, that quaalude is making me pretty horny. Let's stop somewhere where we can fuck, okay?"
I laughed.
"I'm serious. I'm really horny. If you don't want to fuck me, let's at least park someplace where I can jerk off with the gin bottle, okay?"
I was stuck for an answer, so I didn't say anything.
She careened down the side roads until she found a motel.
We drove into the lot.
"Mark, get the stuff, okay? There's a bag of reefer in the glove compartment. I've got the coke. Let's go"
The man at the front desk of the motel naturally thought we were newlyweds. She was in her gown, and me in my tuxedo.
"Well, hello!" he said.
"Hi! We just made our get away. We want the bridal suite, and a bucket of champagne and a basket of fruit and a carton of cigarettes, okay?"
Heather was so bouncy and charming that the guy probably had the same kind of hard-on I had.
"And then we don't want to be disturbed at all, okay? You have a pool?"
"Swimming pool in the back, yes."
"Cable TV in all the rooms?"
"Of course!"
"Good. We can watch the K Channel!" she said, referring to the channel that broadcasts erotic movies.
"And the name?"
Heather answered before I could shut her up.
"Mister and Mrs. Mark Lafferty."
Great. That was all I needed. Had I been sober, I would have imagined a SWAT team led by Charles Dale and his family attacking the motel and looking for me, Mark Lafferty.
Fortunately, I was nowhere near sober.
"This is perfect!" Heather yelled as she saw the interior of the bridal suite for the first time.
It was a pretty obnoxiously tacky suite-with large red hearts patterned on the bedsheets, a mirror on the ceiling, and a heart-shaped bath tub.
A perfect fuck palace for two stoned out horny people.
Heather turned the hot water on in the bath tub full blast.
She threw her long bridal train off, and flopped down on the huge round bed. The red satin bedsheets were something else! "Jesus, am I horny."
"Must be the quaaludes."
She grabbed my by the arm and pulled me down on the bed next to her.
"Nope," she said, her speech slurred and her face broken out in a bright red blush.
"Nope, it's you, Mark. You make me hot. I wanna fuck you so bad my pussy hurts!"
I just laughed my stoned, silly giggle as she unbuttoned my shirt.
"Fuck!" she cried when she couldn't manage the buttons, and she ripped my expensive ruffled shirt right off my back.
I lay there bare-chested and completely in a state of horny debauched stupor.
I rolled over on my back.
Heather got on top of my and straddled my body.
She rested her ass right on top of my hard-on.
She started to rock back and forth, humping my prick ever so gently.
She spread her hands over my pecs and started to massage my chest. She especially enjoyed running her fingers through the hair on my chest.
I especially enjoyed it, too.
She teased my nipples by pulling the hairs around them.
"God, I would so much rather have you than that ass-hole Charles. I mean, I can just tell that your penis is much bigger than his."
"Hah! There's more to life than penis size!"
"No there isn't! God, all I want in life is to suck and fuck the biggest cocks in the world. I'm tired of being ashamed of it too. So call me a nympho. I'm addicted to rampant cocks!"
She stretched her lips when she said the word cock, accenting that word with deliberate articulation.
And then she broke out in more laughter. "Hee hee hee! I'm so happy!" She reached around herself and unbuttoned the top of her bridal gown.
I reached up and helped her off with it. She sat on top of my with that corset on. Black lace bra and all.
Man, Charles would have been one lucky bastard if she hadn't run out on him!
I stared at her chest.
"I love those tits."
"You always did, you horny fuck."
"Hey, they're great tits," I said, reaching up and feeling them through her bra.
I loved the feel of the black lace.
I could feel her nipples poke through them.
I cupped them in my hands and pressed them against her chest.
I rotated them in circles in opposite directions, pressing them against her and squeezing them lightly.
All this as she humped my cock through our clothing.
"Ohhhh, you are wonderful," Heather said. "God, you know how to fondle a girl's tits. Charles wouldn't even look at them!"
"I doubt that," I said.
"Are you kidding?" she said, and grasped my hands in hers, slowing my rotating motions down.
"One time," Heather continued, "I wore this incredibly low cut dress with this diamond pendant that sat right in my cleavage. I wanted to turn him on, you know?"
"So what happened," I asked as she held my hands over her tits and gasped with horny delight for air.
"So he didn't even LOOK at me all night! He tried not to look-as if he were being polite and upper class and like he was showing respect for womanhood. What he was doing was insulting me and making me feel stupid!"
"I love your tits."
"Ohhh, yeah! Uh . ... oh, yeah, just hold them. Hold them there, Mark ... Oh, yeah, make me feel so hot!"
She reached down and grabbed another joint and lit it up.
"Here," she said as she offered me a toke.
I didn't even have to take my hands off her tits.
She held the reefer up to my mouth and I took a deep, deep toke. "That's good shit," I said.
"The best, baby! Oh, God, my nipples ... my nipples ... ! "
She was really getting turned on.
After a minute or two more of feeling up her tits through her black lace bra and corset, Heather opened her eyes wide and looked at me with a playful, almost child-like look.
"Hey! The tub is probably full by now!"
She got up off me.
My pants had a dark stain just above the head of my bulging prick where drops of love-juice had been forming.
Heather pointed it out.
"We're going to have to give that poor aching muscle a break. Into the bath!" The bathroom was steaming. She turned off the tub.
She kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bathtub.
The ceiling was mirrored and oodles of bubbles rested on the surface of the steaming tub.
"Take off my hose, please, Mark?"
I reached up and unsnapped the garters just underneath her firm ass cheeks.
I couldn't help copping a feel or two of her rosy, firm thighs.
I rolled down the stockings one at a time, delighting in the feel of the silk against her warm, moist skin.
Black bra and panties.
That was all that stood between me and that naked chick. She stood. In front of me.
She wrapped her right hand around the back of my neck and, as she delivered a warm, wet French kiss to my aching lips, she fussed with the buckle of my belt.
She undid the belt and unzipped my pants.
My poor, aching penis thrust its way forward, stretching my underwear out into a white sheer bulge.
Heather placed her hand on my stick-shift and kissed me again and again.
"I love cocks. Yours especially."
I reached down with my hand and diddled her pussy through her panties.
I felt that bush of pubic hair.
I felt how damp her panties were.
I poked my middle finger into the panties until I felt myself tweaking her pussy lips through the black lace.
"Shit, you know how to make love to a girl, don't you!"
"I just go with the flow, baby."
The joint was still hanging out of the corner of her mouth.
It looked sexy, even though it had long since gone out.
I watched her tongue stick out of her lips and swallow the reefer. She chewed it up and swallowed it.
The steam in the bathroom made my skin so hot and moist that I couldn't stand being in those clothes anymore.
I forget who said it first. One of us said, "Let's get naked."
Heather turned around and I undid the fastens on her incredible underwear.
It all came off, and her bare back was the loveliest sight in a month of Mondays.
It sloped, it curved.
I couldn't resist nibbling the back of her neck.
I chewed and licked and sucked, splattering wet French kisses underneath her ears and down the slope of the nape of her neck.
She had been wearing her hair up, and those dainty frills of hair that descended the back of her neck tickled my nose as I kissed her.
I pushed her pearls out of the way with my tongue and licked her naked skin.
Then she turned around and wrapped her arms around my neck.
The expression on her face was one of hopeless. helpless lust.
"Staring at my tits?
"Mmmmm," I hummed in assent.
She raised her arms above her head and posed for me. When she raised her arms, her tits took on the perfect round shape that I had always imagined they had.
They were so full and round! And each nipple was a big red smear of pink with a tiny round head. "Like them."
"Very much."
"You can have them if you take your clothes off and follow me into the tub."
She stuck her toe into the bathtub water.
"Water's perfect," she said.
I pulled off my pants and threw off my underwear.
My rigid cock stuck up from my middle like a flagpole with a curvature in it.
"Wow! Jesus, that's a big fucking cock!"
She wasn't lying, by the way.
My penis is about eleven inches long when erect.
And it was never harder.
And it's thick, too.
It was bright red, and sweat beads were forming all along its shaft.
"Jesus, I want that thing inside me." She sat down again on the edge of the tub. Slowly, she pulled her panties down, and off. She spread her legs.
Wide.
I saw her red ripe beaver.
I smelled the scent of pussy juices.
Tike my twat?"
"I wanna fuck that twat, Heather."
I got down on my knees in front of her and kissed the inside of her thigh.
"Wow!" she exclaimed and threw her arms around me shoulders.
I kissed her again, this time closer to her cunt.
AND then I placed my lips squarely on her pussy-lips.
I kissed her cunt.
I felt the bush of pubic hair press against my cheeks.
I tasted the slightly salty, natural taste of her juices. I raised my head back up and looked her in the eye.
She looked incredulous.
I felt proud. I knew I was turning this woman on like she had never been turned on before-at least, not in a long, long time.
"Jesus," she said, her lips puffing up red and hot with horny lust, "We've known each other so long. How come we never fucked before?" two
Heather was the most beautiful sight on earth as she sat, naked on the edge of the heart-shaped bath tub.
She caressed my naked body as I knelt before her.
The whole place was steamed up.
"In college, I never thought you would be interested in fucking me," I said to her, running my finger down the row of round, white pearls that hung around her neck and outlined the slope of her tits.
"Mmmmmm," she hummed.
She grasped my hard penis in her hand.
"We have a lot to talk about, you and me," she said.
"Later," I said.
"Yeah, later. Come on. Let's get in the tub."
The quaalude was taking full effect right about this time, and as I descended into the bubble bath, the warm water enveloped my skin and especially my hard-on, and every sensation was magnified a thousand times.
Heather slid down into the tub.
The tub was huge, and there was more than enough room for us to do just about every conceivable sex act.
I sat down and lay back, the water coming up to the base of my neck.
I spread my legs wide.
Heather slid down and rested her ass on the bottom of the tub.
The sudsy bubbles covered her tits.
She was sitting straight up, with her back straight.
The steamy water came right up to the line of her nipples.
I watched the little waves of water lap at her tit-heads. She spread her legs wide. "This is a great tub," she said, grasping my hard penis underwater. "We can even fuck in here."
"Mm mm."
"I'm so stoned."
"Me, too."
She smoothed both of her hands up and down the length of my stiff prick while I reached down and rubbed her pussy.
Her pubic hair was so much softer underwater. It flowed like seaweed and stroked my hand while I rubbed my forefinger up and down her pussy lips.
She closed her eyes and ran the tip of her tongue along her lips.
Then she opened her mouth and stared deep into my eyes.
I felt her feeling up my cock under water.
One hand after the other was riding up and then down the length of my hard shaft.
Then she reached underneath me and ran the tip of her finger along the surface of my scrotum.
"Oh, look," Heather said, with the innocent excitement of a little girl discovering a new toy, "Scented soap!"
She grabbed the bar from the dish.
She worked up a lather in her hands even as I tickled her pussy lips.
I ran my finger up and down those lips, feeling every bump and wrinkle in those two tender pink ribbons of flesh.
She slapped the bar of soap against the side of my hard, hard prick.
The lather made her touch especially slippery and slimy, and then she grasped my dick even harder in her hand.
"Oh, boy. A two-handed cock!"
She was referring to my size, of course.
One hand was wrapped around my cock down at its base.
Her other hand was wrapped around my cock up toward the top. She held it firmly.
It was so thick that her fingers could just barely reach all the way around it.
My thick, round crown still poked up above her top hand.
Millions of nerve-endings in my stiff prick were sensitive to her loving touch, and sent thundering messages of raw, pure pleasure through my nervous system.
I slid back, and the water level reached up to my lower lip.
I closed my eyes and let her massage my penis and balls.
She was getting off on it.
Hell, what was the hurry?
My head was in the clouds.
The warm water and the steamy air and her hot hands covered me in a blanket of lurid pleasure.
The pleasure of hot, loving sex.
The kind that men with big thick cocks like. She slid forward a bit.
She placed on hand on my shoulder and keep the other hand on my erection, rubbing it up and down.
She brought me slowly, slowly higher and higher toward orgasm-several times, so close that I thought I would cum.
But she would let up, and then begin again.
It was fantastic!
"Mark?"
Her voice reverberated through this steamy sauna of sex like the voice of an angel. "Hm?"
"My pussy is so hot I can't keep it from quivering and flexing."
"Mmmmmm," I moaned in pleasure as a shit-eating leer spread its way across my face.
"I mean it. I have a deep, deep space inside me and I want you to fill it. I want you to fill it full of your meat."
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Fuck me, Mark. Fuck me in the cunt. In my hot, sweet cunt."
"Mmmmmm. I want to so much-but I don't want to move!"
She laughed.
"okay," she said.
I opened my eyes.
She rose up, her ass out of the water.
The bubbles of suds clung to the slopes of her tits, and rolled down her tits.
A cluster of bubbles clung to her nipple, and then fell into the bath water again.
She was wet.
Wet and hot and sexy.
Her big tits hung down in front of her wet, soapy body.
Then I felt the crown of my dick slip inside those pussy lips that I had fingered.
Fingered into a state of horny sensitivity. She squatted in mid-air.
Just the head of my prick was tucked inside those lips.
"Oh, God," Heather said in a small voice, "I think I'm going to have an orgasm."
I felt her cunt lips tighten around my dick-head.
Were they flexing in the first of what promised to be many powerful female orgasms?
"Oh, yes," she moaned.
Her eyes opened, and she shot a glance at me.
An evil, devilish glance.
Yeah.
She slid down.
And my hard cock slid right into her cunt.
An inch at a time.
Underwater.
Do I have to describe how amazing the raw sensations of sexual pleasure were?
About three inches, clown, she stopped again, this time, her ass just at the water level.
"Oh, Jesus! You're bigger than I realized!" she cried.
"Take me inside. All the way in."
"okay, okay, slowly," she said.
She squat-humped her ass down, down, down, and her eyes practically bugged out of her head.
"Oh! OH! OH! AHH!" she started to scream.
Her voice echoed throughout the tiled bathtub.
I looked up at the mirror on the ceiling.
I saw a big-breasted woman sinking down on top of my love-pole.
The veins were starting to pop out of the tender flesh of her neck.
"You're cock is so big," she said, "I feel like I'm being ripped apart-ravaged-filled beyond my wildest fantasies!"
Slowly, though, it happened.
She took all of my big, thick cock inside her pussy.
She sat down, and her thighs met mine.
It was an amazing sensation to have y throbbing cock lodged inside Heather.
It was even more amazing to have her pussy contract and expand in such perfect rhythms as to stimulate the surface of my hot dick as never before.
Heather's arms stretched out and she rubbed my hot thighs underneath the surface of the steaming water as she squat-thrust my long cock.
Up and down her crotch went on my stiff pole.
Each fuck-thrust was a new experience, bringing me closer and closer to the heights of sexual bliss that I had only dreamed of achieving in all my years as an active sexual human being.
"Oh, Jesus," I heard myself moan, my voice echoing through the bathroom that had itself turned into a sauna-like sex-nest.
"Like it?" Heather asked in a most seductive tone of voice. IT was more of a hoarse whisper than a voiced question that she uttered from the depths of her feminine being.
"Love it ... I ... I'm gonna cum."
"okay," Heather said, and sat down. This took my whole erection inside of her.
She stopped moving.
She tightened her pussy.
"I'll stop for a while. Just relax ... relax and feel yourself deep, deep within me."
"Don't you want me to cum?" I asked, opening my eyes and beholding the hot vision of sex-lust before me.
"Hell no, not yet. I want to fuck all day and all night."
"Hah," I laughed, and threw my head back. She tightened enough to keep me from shooting my wad.
Waves of total pleasure emanated from the stiff prick that was inside her hot cunt. They took over.
I was in a state other than normal. Maybe it was the drugs.
Maybe it was having my cock deep inside this gorgeous, big-titted female.
Maybe it was all this, and just the THOUGHT of fucking Heather, of her actually being my lover, that sent me over the edge into a steamy, sordid state of lust.
Whatever it was, it was the greatest experience of my life.
I watched her as she scooped up handfuls of bubbly bath water, and raised her hands high over her head.
She let the water fall in splashy streams from her hands.
Over her tits I watched the water flow, running and dripping, suds clinging to her nipples.
Her nipples had become two solid pink dots.
Then she poured hot bath water over my body.
Down my neck and over my tits, where the hot water teased and erected my own nipples.
Heather ran her hands up and down my sides, smoothly massaging my pecs and my stomach.
My skin felt so smooth and tingly under her fine touch.
"Hmmmmm," she said, obviously in a state of pure joy herself, "I love it. I love giving you pleasure."
"I love it, too," I said.
"Here," Heather said, grasping my hands in hers, and bringing my hands up to her breasts.
"Ah," I said as I felt her wet tits under my loving touch.
"Rub my tits until I cum." I was half-blind at this point. I felt.
I felt two massive lobes of bouncing womanhood underneath my hands.
I dug my hands down into the water, and poured fistfuls of suds down her tits, and then ran my fingertips down the sides of her cleavage.
I then placed my thumbs against the bottoms of her tits and gave them a squeeze.
With my fingertips, I traced concentric circles around her nipples.
I started out at the very outer edge of those massive lobes of tit.
And gradually worked my way in.
By the time my fingertips were about to touch the circumferences of her wide pink nipples, Heather was in the throes of an oncoming orgasm.
The kind that only women have.
Or so they say.
I dragged my fingers across the expanse of aureole that surrounded each nipple.
My cock was still stiff and lodged deep inside her cunt the whole time.
I flicked my fingers across her nipple-heads, dragging soapy water across them.
I felt her cum.
I felt those bucking shivers deep inside of her. She lost control for a second. "Ohhhh, Cod!"
She looked all hot and red and beautiful.
She dug her hands deep into my thighs, and her fingernails threatened to cut my skin.
I forget how long it lasted.
But just when she started to calm down and start breathing regularly again, I gave a quick jerk to my thighs.
It was a signal.
"If you do some squat thrusts up and down on me, you'll bring us both off spectacularly."
"I don't want you to cum yet!"
"I want to cum. Don't worry. I can get it up again in fifteen minutes."
"Really?"
"Wouldn't lie."
"You're something else entirely!" She picked her hips up, and as her cunt rose up on my pecker-shaft, she squealed. "Christ!"
And then she went back down. Soon, her up-and-down squat thrusts were going so hot and so heavy that the water was sloshing and splashing out of the tub.
"Uhh! Uhhh!" she would grunt as she rode my cock like a bucking bronco.
"Ahhh!" she screamed.
I fucked her up and down as she fucked me, raising my hips and ass and jamming my prick up into her with the force of a thousand battering rams.
"CHRIST! I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE! SHIT JESUS!"
I watched her tremble and break out in a sweat. I felt her cum. Again and again. Over and over. It was intense.
My thick prick took over my whole realm of consciousness. BANG!
Before I knew it, I was overcome with orgasm. The most intense orgasm that I had ever known. Also the longest-lasting.
It seemed as though minutes went by with my mind and body resting on this plateau of total sexual fulfillment.
I felt my cock thunder.
I felt it shoot.
Out of control.
Thick white gobs of jism flew out of the end of my dick into her deep wet snatch.-The jizz had started way, way down deep inside my balls and flew up through the length of my shaft.
It massaged my cock from the inside as the thundering blobs of goo sped through my duct at hundreds of miles per hour.
We were locked in a lover's embrace as we came simultaneously.
Great stuff.
The water washed over us, an amneotic fluid of love that baptised out new relationship and consummated our insatiable lust.
*****
By the time we had recovered from everything it was late in the day. Food and coffee.
Heather went out to the car and got a couple of bathing suits out of the trunk.
Apparently she and Charles were planning to make their getaway in that car, and it had been well-stocked.
As we reclined by the swimming pool, the late afternoon sun warmed us.
I could hardly take my eyes off Heather's incredible body.
"You know," I said to her, feeling much more sober, "We're going to have to confront Charles and Susan at some point," referring to my own fiancee.
"No we're not."
"Heather."
"Fuck them. I hate Charles. And don't tell me you would rather marry Susan than me."
"That's not the point. You ran out on your own wedding and now we-"
"Oh, hush up. I don't want to talk about it."
I was a little annoyed, but hell. She was right. I did not want Susan.
I wanted her.
And now, at least for the time being, I had her. That sort of thing is the chance that few men get in a lifetime, and I wasn't about to spoil it.
Relax, I told myself, and let tomorrow take care of itself.
"Don't worry, Mark," Heather said, "I have enough money to take care of anything. And I mean, anything."
The manager of the motel strolled around the back of the pool to where we were, and delivered an iced bucket of champagne.
"Everything to your liking?"
"Oh, yes!" Heather said, and popped the champagne open.
Me, I could hardly even think about drinking any more, but Heather was another story.
I sipped my glass politely.
She gulped hers.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a state trooper come around poolside.
I gave a start.
When I heard the manager address the cop by name, I was a little relieved.
"Oh, hello, Bob. Sorry you had to come around back here. What can I do you for?"
Apparently, this roadside policeman and the motel manager were old buddies.
"Shitty business, I'm afraid. Can we talk?"
The manager excused himself and they strolled over a few yards away.
Heather and I listened. Their conversation was barely audible.
"We got a tip to look out for a red sports car with license number AH5-ZL7. Reported carrying hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of cocaine."
"Haven't seen any, but I'll keep my eyes out."
"Thanks, Bob. If we catch it, it's a big promotion for me. I'll take you and the missus out for dinner."
Heather shot me a glance.
It was her car.
She whispered to me.
"Charles. That bastard."
Apparently Charles sent the state cops out after Heather once they found her car missing. Great.
I was up to my neck in shit. Heather placed her hand on my shoulder. "We've got to get out of here," she said. "Before they spot the car."
Heather quickly told me what to do. We stood up.
Of course, the manager and the state trooper, even though they were strolling back toward the main part of the motel, could not help but glance indiscreetly at Heather's bikini-covered body.
"I'm going back to the room to get more suntan lotion, honey." I said in a loud voice.
"okay, dear," Heather said in a n equally loud voice, "I'm going to stroll alongside the pool!"
"Be careful you don't fall in-you know you can't swim!"
"Don't worry, darling!" she said, and began strutting her stuff along the edge of the kidney-shaped pool.
I ran back to the room, and gathered absolutely everything up and threw it in the car.
While I was packing up, Heather was walking alongside the edge of the pool, until she "slipped," and fell in.
She splashed about, helpless, attracting the attention of the manager and the state trooper.
"Help me! Help me pleeese!"
Of course, Heather was a perfectly good swimmer, but her act was convincing enough.
What macho state trooper type could resist diving into the pool to save a drowning nymphet like Heather?
I heard the loud splash as I was loading up the car.
She flailed and flailed, scream and yelled.
Just as the State Trooper was about to grab her to rescue her, she unsnapped her bikini top, and let it float away.
"Oh, my! Oh, no! My bikini top!"
Ah, the sight of her big boobs floating in the water must have been enough to erect the cock of any State Trooper.
Too bad I was too busy to see it for myself.
She created quite a stir.
I returned to the scene with a bottle of suntan lotion in hand, to find the manager of the motel leaning over the side of the pool, reaching for her bra.
He pulled the wet bikini top out of the water, and turned around. He faced me. I looked angry.
The State Trooper was pulling Heather out of the water. He had an arm around her, copping a few feels.
It was my cue.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!"
"Oh, honey! There's an explanation! Honest!" Heather said.
I grabbed the bare-chested girl and pulled her toward me, out of the State Trooper's grasp.
"I've never seen such a display in all my life! Come on, Heather-we're getting out of here and finding a decent place to stay!"
I pulled her, and she trotted after me as we walked toward the car.
"B-but but you don't-" the manager babbled.
"And if you think we're PAYING for this-forget it! Forget about the bill!"
We got into the car.
Me and Heather.
Wearing nothing but bathing trunks.
"Gee, I like riding around in a car with my naked tits," she said, "Makes a girl feel free and uninhibited."
She turned the ignition.
It stalled.
"Shit, what the hell's the matter?"
I saw the State Trooper and the manager coming up the parking lot.
"It's them! It's the red sports car!"
"Come on, baby!" Heather cried, "Start!"
With seconds to spare, the car started and Heather floored it.
Her tits bounced against her chest as the car lurched into gear.
We were out of there. three
"We built this city on rock and roll."
That's what the radio blared as I drove Heather's 1969 Alfa Romeo down US I.
She had thrown on a T-shirt to cover her naked tits, but her bathing suit bikini bottoms were still a little damp.
I had my bathing suit on and the dress shirt from the tuxedo outfit that I had worn to Heather's wedding.
Some wedding.
Heather's eyes were closed as she lay her head back and sung along with the song.
"Born to Run" was next.
I kept my eyes on the road.
I was doing my best to make sure I didn't drive the damn car into the side of a truck or completely off the road.
I wasn't doing too badly.
Considering I had spent the better part of the day drinking, pouring drugs into my bloodstream, and fucking about three gallons of sperm into this chick's hot cunt.
"Hey, Heather? Are you conscious?"
She didn't answer.
"Heather? Heath?"
No response.
Great.
I wondered what time it was, but I couldn't figure out which of the many dials on the dashboard was the clock.
I turned the radio to the all-news station.
"Weather tonight turning party cloudy, with expected showers through the evening."
All right. I was going to have to get the top up on the car. Maybe get some raincoats.
Fine.
"Heather?"
"Mmmmm," she stirred a little.
"Wake up."
"Mmmmmm."
"Twenty minutes after six, and this just in. A reported kidnapping of a high-society debutante. Apparently, Heather Sedgewick, heiress to controlling interest in the Transatlantic Trust Company, has been abducted from her wedding ceremony!"
Great, just what I needed to hear.
"The identity of the supposed kidnapper is not known, but the couple are reported to be heading east on Route I."
okay, at least they had that wrong.
We were heading west.
But at twenty after six, I had to start thinking about where we were going to spend the night, how I was going to get Heather back home without being arrested for kidnapping-and putting the fucking top down before it started raining.
Plus, I was getting hungry.
It was a long day-and it was going to be a longer evening.
The solution to me problems seem to lie in one particular road sign that my eyes caught along the side of the highway.
AIRPORT 1 MILE
I decided to go for it.
The traffic leading to the parking area was not too thick at that hour.
We stopped at a red light. The sunset in the background was brilliant red.
"Heather, wake up. I'm going to need some cash." She was a beautiful baby, sleeping there on her cheek on the leather headrest. "Wake up."
Then I spit the words out through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice down. "WAKE UP, DAMMIT."
"What?"
"We are going to need some cash."
"Where are we?"
"The airport."
"What? Why?"
At last, she woke up.
"I'll explain as we go on. I want to park the car and get the hell out of here. Name a city. You have an American Express card, we're going to need it."
"Mark," she said.
"We're in trouble."
"The State Trooper?"
"No, not the fucking State Trooper. We were on the radio. The son of a bitch got us ion the radio. They announced an 'alleged kidnapping' on the damn news station." I explained it to her.
"Fuck," she said. "Why are you going to the parking garage?"
"I figured we'd go somewhere, hide out, change in the car. One of us would go to the airport shop and get some raincoats or some shit."
"Fuck that shit," she said, "Go to the Ambassadors Club."
It would figure this chick was a member of the Ambassadors Club.
"But what if they know? You don't want to have to use your real name-"
"Jesus, just do as I tell you."
"Look, you little twit, I'm getting paranoid!"
"Don't tell me about paranoia," Heather shot back, "You're talking to a girl who was tripping at age nine."
"Fine," I said.
"Take the ramp here to the left. Valet Parking." She brushed her hair as I parked in front of the little booth. She got out.
"Hi," she said to the guy on duty.
"Can I help you?" he said, eagerly. like every man in America, this guy was obviously turned on by this fantastic-looking chick.
"Is Jerry on duty?"
"No, Miss, I'm sorry. My name is Bob. Can I help you?"
Here was a guy who was the rudest son-of-a-bitch in the world for 364 days a year. But put a pert, scantily dressed sexpot like Heather in front of him, and he turns into the most helpful, sweetest public servant ever to wear a soiled uniform.
"Well, Bob. My name is Heather. Jerry knows me. I want to park my car for a while, but I don't know when I'll be back."
Two or three cars were now lined up behind me.
"Well, if you don't know when you'll be back-"
"Please? See, Jerry and my daddy know each other a long time...."
She reached up into her T-shirt and pulled out a roll of bills.
This chick was too much. She kept her cash between her tits. Now that is class.
She passed the bills to this Bob guy. A car behind me honked.
She got back into the car. She was holding a receipt.
"Go. Drive to the left." I did.
Down another ramp. "Park it in here." We parked.
I put my hands on my hips and looked around.
There I was, barefoot in bathing trunks, in the basement of a greasy airport garage.
"The elevator to the Ambassador's club is right there," she said, getting her purse and fixing her hair.
In ten minutes we were in the Ambassador's Club.
Damn nice place.
I sat at a table having a vodka and tonic while Heather was off "arranging things."
If you think it was fun sitting alone at a table watching Heather tease every cock in uniform, you're wrong.
But after about fifteen minutes, she came back to the table.
She kissed me on the cheek.
She sat down.
Please, Lord. Don't give ma an erection here. Not now.
"The bell captain is having the courier purchase us some clothes. The steward is going to bring us a few more drinks and dinner, and a couple of airline schedules so we can pick a city and fly off."
"What about the car."
"The car is safe with Bob, you jealous thing, you."
"What do you know everyone at the airport."
"Are you kidding? Daddy practically built this airport."
I was beginning to get some sense of how this woman lived.
"Do I have to remind you that the police are after me?"
"Mark, when are you going to learn to relax."
"What about Susan?" I said, referring to my fianc'.
"Fuck Susan."
"I'd rather fuck you," I admitted.
"Patience, Mark! Jesus, what are you, insatiable?"
"As far as you're concerned, yes."
She looked at me.
"We'll fly to Paris in the morning. Let's end the night at the airport hotel, and fuck our brains out."
*****
Now, I didn't even know there was such a thing as a bridal suite in an airport hotel. It was just a big suite with a huge bed. I fell down on the bed. "Tired?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's been a long day."
"Up for sex?" she said, sitting down on the bed next to me, putting a hand on my weary shoulders.
I just looked at her, that kind of desperate, empty look when a man's appetite exceeds his energy level. rn
"Relax. The stuff'll be here in the morning. Lie back and I'll suck your dick."
Sounded good to me.
I lay back.
Just as my penis was growing into a heavy log of lumber, there came a knock on the door.
"Room service. Delivery."
Two packages of clothes, I assumed. And two beers.
She got rid of the bellboy. Heather got up on the bed, her big tits hanging down in pendulous lobes beneath her t-shirt.
She straddled my prone body.
She fell on top of my, breaking her fall with her hands stretched pout to either side of me on the bed.
Just the ends of her tits brushed me, and the momentary thrill of it was incredible.
I knew that this was going to be one great experience.
Heather sat up and unbuckled the top of my swim-suit. Shit. I was still wearing those damn trunks.
"Raise your hips up off the bed for a second," she said.
I complied.
She pulled my swimming suit down off my pelvis. It was stained, of course.
Stained with the pre-cum that Heather herself had helped force through my erect cock's duct while she was sitting on top of me, her tis drooping seductively near my face.
Now my erect cock and my balls enjoyed the open air.
"Beautiful organ," she said, rubbing the tips of two fingers over the surface of my member.
My penis stuck out in a hard tube, which lay almost flat over my abdomen.
It dripped love juice.
Heather ran her finger back and forth lightly over the very edge of the bulging underbelly that was exposed.
I felt her touch the spongy protrusion that ran the length of my penis up and down. It was the casing of the duct that carried, among other things, jism through the male cock.
Her touch was light at first.
Back and forth.
Up and down.
I could feel my penis actually getting harder and harder, even though it seemed as erect as it possibly could be.
She ran the finger all the way down the base of my penis.
She ran the tip of her finger over my scrotum, right down the indentation between where my balls sat.
She picked up my balls in her two fingers.
She tucked her fingers deep under my ball sac.
Then she let my balls roll into the palm of her hand, where she held them.
She tightened her grasp on my balls, but did not squeeze them.
Not yet, at any rate.
No.
She just held them in her hand. She just held my balls in her warm and loving hand.
With her other hand, she continued stroking the shaft of my erect penis.
"Do you want to make this a really interesting blowjob?" Heather asked me.
"Of course."
We looked deep into each other's eyes as she stroked my cock.
"I've never told anybody this before," she said. "But ... I have a food fetish."
"What did you have in mind," I asked, curious.
"I like butter."
Mmmmm. The thought of butter being spread up and down over my cock by this sexy chick was irresistible.
She got up off the bed and went over to the little tray that room service had brought up.
On the tray were about a hundred of those little wax-paper packets of butter you find in restaurants and hotels.
"Hah!" I laughed, amused and sexually delighted at the same time. "You don't miss a trick."
"Hey. I'm a girl with some spirit and imagination, you know."
She took a minute to unwrap all the butter and spread the melting pats of it onto the tray with her fingers.
"Hmm!" she said, popping a taste in her mouth.
"Wanna taste?" she asked me.
She stuck her finger between my lips and I French-kissed the butter off the end of her finger.
"After all, if I'm going to take your penis into my mouth, I'm going to want to prepare it as I would any delicacy. What's life if you can't have a little butter on a midnight snack?"
She worked the butter into the tray and into her fingers until it was really melted pretty good.
It was almost liquid in her hot hands.
She spread some of the butter onto the surface of my hard on.
I felt her slippery touch hit the ridge that ran up and down the length of my under-shaft.
Then I felt them roll down the sides of my cock-shaft.
"Butter is the best."
"I appreciate your expertise."
"I take my business seriously," she said, and more butter rolled over and over the surface of my prone dick.
"God, that feels fantastic," I said.
She rubbed it harder into my cock.
It was just the feeling of the free-flowing butter over and over my penis that turned me on no end.
My cock was getting harder than I remembered it ever being before.
It stretched out to an unheard of length, and it was so rigid that it began to tremble slightly.
I could feel it tremble in mid-air as it rose up that inch or so from the flat surface of my stomach.
"I haven't even used half of the stuff yet. You want me to rub more and more in?"
"What would you like?"
"I'd like to smear your cock and hairy balls with butter and then lick up every drop and then suck you 'til you cum." She laughed a little.
She certainly had a broad smile on her face as she smeared the tray directly onto the surface of my cock.
I felt liquid melted butter roll down the sides of my crotch.
It rolled down the insides of my thighs, and onto the bed.
"It's hard to find a man with whom a girl can feel so uninhibited."
When my crotch was drenched with butter, Heather put the tray down and started to giggle.
Her tits shook beneath her t-shirt.
I could see her nipples barely poke through the thin cotton garment, tracing pattern around and around as she laughed.
"This is great!" she said.
"Just have fun with my cock. Dive right in and enjoy my hard, erect penis."
She spread her hands all over my dick and balls.
Just smeared them all around in the butter.
Here and there, her hands went, like a messy kindergarten kid finger-painting.
She explored every region of my dick and balls.
For example, when her hand slid underneath the base of my cock, I must have winced or let out a moan or a grunt of total sexual pleasure.
Because she went back over that area with her fingers more and more as the night went on.
By midnight, her hands were smeared wet with butter.
My cock was a greased pole.
She would play, and play, much like a little kid.
Incredibly erotic.
And when she discovered something that made me especially hot-made me quiver or made my cock jump up an inch involuntarily-magic broke out.
She would make me wait for her to do it again. "You know what would make me happy."
"What, Heather?"
"If before I sucked your hard-on, I could bring you just to the point of cumming-and then hold your dick with just the right amount of pressure that you didn't cum-but you stayed incredibly aroused."
She rolled her eyes heavenward and grinned.
Then she wrapped her hand around my greased pole and gave me the hand-job of my life.
She stroked my penis up and down with her hand.
She tightened her grip just a little.
But it was more of a gentle stroke than a squeeze, and under the slippery lubrication of the butter, the sensations to my dick were amazing.
She worked my cock bath and forth against my belly with her hands.
Her hands slipped and slid back and forth, raising the sensitivity of my under-cock a thousandfold.
She pressed her palm flat against my hard on.
I almost lost consciousness!
"There ... I'll bet you feel like cumming, don't you. But you won't."
Greatest sensation of my life.
Then Heather took her hand clean off.
"I can only do that for a couple of seconds."
"Couple of seconds is fine, baby, just fine." I told her.
"Tell me what you want, Mark."
"You know what I want, honey. Head."
"Ask anything and I'll do it. I'm your slave. Surely you've always wanted a slave."
"Lead me," she said, "One step at a time. Talk to me, Mark. Talk to me."
Pick my cock up and pull it up toward you."
As she held it, she didn't stop stroking it up and down. That's the kind of sexual craftsman Heather was.
She really loved cocks.
Erect ones. Especially mine.
"Now kiss it. Go on. See how full and round the head is? Put your lips on it and give it a kiss." She bent her head down and her tits brushed my naked abdomen. She sat back up.
"Better take this off," she said, and pulled her t-shirt off.
Her naked tits came bouncing out. I swear they gave off heat. She held my cock.
She placed her lips on the head of my penis and, holding it like a microphone kissed it. "Mmmmmm," she said, and then looked up. She looked at me. "Kiss it again."
"Mmmmmm," she hummed, and placed her lips on the round head of my cock.
This time, her lips spread out a little before she puckered.
She liked her butter.
Her lips spread out and parted.
As her lips spread farther open, more and morel of my cock-head slid into her mouth.
She could see that I was thrown into a realm called ecstasy.
"Now suck me. Suck my hard-on, Heather."
I felt my hard prick slide into her wet mouth, j
She' withdrew my cock from her mouth slowly into her hand.
She rubbed my balls.
"God, I love erect cocks," she said.
"I think I love you," I said.
"Oh, Mark."
She blushed and got all hot.
She kind of looked down, not knowing what to say, gently working my erection and my lubricated balls between her hands.
She felt every thin pubic hair, and every wrinkle of skin.
She let go a sigh, and for a second, I thought a tear was going to well up in her eye.
"You're such an ass-hole," she said, and put her lips squarely on the head of my stiff prick.
She sucked me hungrily.
I felt her naked tits press against my thighs.
I felt her hair, so soft and silky, brush my legs and my stomach.
She worked her head up and down, up and down.
It felt like I was fucking her face.
Around one o'clock, she stopped.
"I want to take a break for a second, okay?"
"Hey, baby, I'm having a great time just lying back here and relaxing as you suck my cock."
She sat up and walked across the room to where she had placed her purse on the bureau.
She knocked out some lines on the dresser top and snorted them up.
Then she brought her compact mirror over to the bed and knelt beside me.
She cut a line on her contact mirror and offered it to me.
I sat up and snorted the coke.
"Ahhhh!" I exclaimed. "The perfect sex-break!"
Well, no longer was I tired.
No longer did I feel the fatigue.
We were two naked kids, snorting coke at one in the morning, Heather repeatedly staring into my eyes and fondling my butter-coated cock.
We sat on the bed doing cocaine for about ten minutes.
Heather stretched out next to me. I lay next to her. I pulled her towards me. "Let's fuck," she said. four
I got on top of her.
I slammed my erection right into her cunt. All the way in.
I "Ah, oh, yes-just ram it into me."
I did.
Over and over.
I pulled my cock out after some thrusts. I straddled her. "Tit fuck!"
I knead my way up on the bed and slapped my wet prick down right between her tits.
She held my cock to her chest, and smeared my wet rod all over her tits.
It felt great when my rod slipped and slid over her erect nipple.
That hard bead of pink flesh stroked right across the underside of my cock.
Back and forth, as Heather rubbed my dick against her breast.
I swung up higher, and my balls fell against her neck.
She jerked her head up and down, trying to get them in her mouth. I straddled her face.
She stuck her tongue up out of her mouth and licked my balls. I let my balls fall in her mouth. She sucked them. Then she spit them out.
She licked the underside of my erection as I swayed my hips back down over her. My cock jutted against her cheek. And then I slammed it in her twat again. And again.
"Ohhh, yeah," she moaned. I reamed her again.
"I can feel your cock rubbing against my clitoris." I withdrew and thrust again, making a special point to jab her clit with my crown as I entered.
I forget what time it was when the waves and waves of orgasms finally stopped and we finally fell asleep.
But we slept really, really well.
*****
The knock came at the door a little before ten o'clock the next morning. I thought it was room service.
"Mister Lafferty? Mister mark Lafferty?" The big black guy was wearing a uniform. "No, you have the wrong room," I said, and shut the door in his face. I locked the door.
"Mister Lafferty, open up. Police officer. I have a warrant for your arrest on counts of kidnapping, drug trafficking, speeding, operating a motor vehicle under the-"
I shook Heather awake.
This was impossible! How could I be under arrest for these crimes? I had not broken any laws since running away with Heather-at least not seriously.
She listened, sitting up in bed, to the man outside the door thunder his protests.
"This is Charles's doing," she whispered.
I was up to my ears in the power-plays of the incredibly rich.
Caught in the middle between two families who would stop at nothing to have me thrown in jail.
I realized at that moment that I was going to be the scapegoat for the failure of the arranged marriage of Heather Sedgewick to Charles Dale-when in fact I had been an innocent party.
Well, mostly innocent.
"What the hell are we going to do? I'm not going to spend thee night in jail while your Daddy bails me out! IF he bails me out!"
"Shhhh! Don't panic. Here. Get in the shower and get dressed. The clothes are right there in that package. They're my brother's. They'll fit you."
How the hell she managed to get clothes delivered to the airport hotel in the first place is a secret known only to God and the executives at the Ambassador's Club-but I didn't argue.
I shut the bathroom door behind me and listened.
Heather opened the front door.
After brushing her hair.
But not after getting dressed.
The cop walked in, and found a charming young lady in the nude to answer his questions.
"Miss, I'm-oh, excuse me! I was-"
"Come in, please. Can I help you?"
"Don't you want to put anything on, miss?" .
"I don't mind if you don't."
There was a long silence.
I was intrigued. I put a glass to the bathroom door so that I could hear everything. In my mind's eye, I imagined the scene.
Heather's tits smiling gleefully at an embarrassed cop.
"I have a warrant for the arrest of a Mister Mark Lafferty."
I opened the bathroom door just a crack and watched the whole scene.
I figured he wouldn't notice me, what with the more pleasantly distracting sight of Heather's beautiful nude body right in front of his eyes.
"Well, there's no person here by that name," Heather said, grasping the long end of the officer's necktie in her hand and pulling him toward her, "But if you promise to go away and not come in this room until I've checked out, why then I promise that I won't turn you in for rape."
"Wha-why, that's-"
"Blackmail is such an ugly word," Heather said, "I prefer the term extortion."
Then she turned on the charm.
I burned up with outrageous jealousy while she slyly seduced the cop-although I kept reminding myself that it was for my benefit.
My benefit, hell. She was doing it for her own amusement.
"Look," she said, breathing softly into his ear, "How would you like that nice big black cock sucked?"
She kissed him behind the ear, and his will power started to fade.
My own cock was getting stiffen
Shit, it was a sexy scene.
I was never into voyeurism before, but watching Heather turn it on was better than any Swedish movie.
She reached down and felt his crotch.
"Hnmmm, that's a nice thick hard-on you have there. One blowjob? Please? I really love black cock. And then you can go about your business and no one will hear anything about it."
"Heh heh he," the guy laughed, gutturally.
He grabbed her tits in his hands.
Watching those brown fingers pressing delicately against her ripe breasts made me burn!
But at the same time, I was transfixed!
I couldn't take my eyes off the scene.
I watched Heather get down on her knees.
She unbuckled the cop's trousers and unfastened his belt.
She took it out.
She took out his dick.
Her slim, pale white fingers ran up and down the length of the brown tube of meat. It was a huge cock.
Maybe it was bigger than mine, and maybe it was the same size as mine. My judgment would have been colored by jealousy.
Heather nuzzled his black bush of wooly knots, and sighed with passionate loving as she kissed the sides of his cock up and down.
She placed a kiss square on the head of his cock, and that was when I had to masturbate.
I couldn't help it!
Watching her give head to a thick black man was too much!
I held my erection in my hand and felt it grow hotter and bigger. Harder than a slab of granite. Really, really hard.
Take into consideration the fact that I had just gotten up out of bed and I'm the kind of guy who always gets a boner first thing in the morning, and you get the picture.
She stuck her tongue out of her mouth.
She gave a long, long lick to the side of his pecker.
Then her tongue swam around and around the round crown of his cock head.
It darted to and fro.
I stroked my cock up and down once.
"Mmmmm," she said, in between licks and kisses to his cock and balls, "I love big cocks. And you have a really big one."
"Heh heh," was the cop's reply. A real articulate dude.
"I want to feel the hot cum all the way down my throat. Do you like to cum in a girl's mouth? I love it when a guy I'm blowing cums."
She took his penis inside her mouth and swallowed several inches.
I stroked my dick up and down, closing my eyes.
Through the crack in the door I watched.
She took more and more cock inside her mouth, and then let it slide out a little.
She worked the wet slick dick in and out of her mouth.
I loved watching Heather's cheeks pucker in when she sucked cock.
It was weird looking at a black man's dick inside my Heather's mouth.
The contrast was really strange.
His cock got darker and darker-almost black-as it got more and more engorged with erectile blood.
I had never seen a black erection in real life. Let alone seen a naked woman suck one. Into her head.
She took the whole thing in. He gave out a gasp.
I jerked my penis up and down, pretending it was Heather's hand, making my stiff prick into a living rocket-shell of pubic sex.
Cock boner dick blowjob fuck.
Man, his cock was huge, and I was astonished to watch it disappear-all of it-into her mouth.
Yes, all of it.
Her lips tweaked his ball sac and pubic hair. She held his penis there. I wondered how much she was enjoying it. I jerked my own cock more and more faster and faster.
"Mmmmm," she moaned, his prick inside her head.
I knew how much that felt great. Having a woman moan when she's sucking you off.
The vibrations of her mouth make the skin of your heavy prick tingle.
The soothing sound of it makes your balls sizzle with sex-heat lust joy fuck.
Cocks.
Hard cocks.
Inside a woman's mouth.
Blowjobs.
Tits.
Naked women giving thick black cocks wet blow-jobs.
These were the thoughts in my head as I shut my eyes and rubbed my pecker. My hard pecker. My stiff prick. My erection.
Boner suck dick cock fuck lick. I opened my eyes just long enough to see how Heather's progress on sucking off the black man'sdick was going.
She was withdrawing his cock from her lips in the down stroke.
She sucked so hard on his meat as it slid out that I knew the guy had to be in sex heaven.
Black stud nigger sex heaven.
Yeah.
The kind that all of us white men secretly want to experience. His cock was wet.
She pulled his erection out of her mouth and his pecker arched up and stared at her.
like a one-eyed Egyptian trouser snake, his black prick stuck up in her pretty, pretty face.
"I love your cock," she said.
And, as she cocked her head to one side, his penis jerked up an inch by itself.
And then the poor sucker came.
Right in her face.
A sharp blast sprayed her right in the eye.
"Ohhh, yeah!" Heather shouted with glee. "Cum in my face! Yeah!"
She nodded her head and shook her head back and forth and up and down so that his blurts of wad shot her all over her face.
It began to roll down her neck and dribble onto her tits.
One drop of jism hung by a strand from the end of her nose.
"Oh, cum in my face! I love it. I love when a guy cums all over me! All over me! Cum in my face, you hot black stud!"
He came more and more, until his rod began to loosen and lose its hardness.
I still had not cum yet.
For, I had stopped stroking my dick long enough to stare at the proceedings, and watch in absolute fascination as he came in her white, pure, beautiful face.
Soon his pecker was a rubbery tube of manly flesh-noodle.
I closed the bathroom door. My cock was still hard.
I figured she would get rid of the guy, I would shower, and then we would pick up and get the hell out of there.
It had been a long time since I had jerked my cock off in the shower, and as the steam from the shower started to fill the bathroom, it reminded me of that fantastic fuck Heather and I had in that bathroom just the day before.
Shit, just the day before! It seemed like days and days ago!
I stepped into the shower and soaped up my prick. Ah, that felt fantastic.
Slimy slippery soap lubricated my hard grip which slid up and down the length of my mast, my pole, my staff of male manly macho sex.
"Mark? Darling?"
Heather stepped into the bathroom.
"In the shower!"
"Good!"
Heather popped into the shower with me and gave me a kiss.
"Did you get rid of that guy?"
"No sweat. He came all over my face!"
"I saw. Here," I said, offering her my cock to stroke.
She took my penis in her two hands and rubbed it gently as she talked to me.
"The way things look to me, Charles and his family are using all their influence-which is considerable-to have you framed for kidnapping me. Plus, there are other charges they can trump up."
"Great."
"Even though none of this would stick in a court of law, they figure they can ruin you, and then bring me back and make me marry Charles."
"Great."
"You're taking this well."
"I'm horny as shit, that's why. Frankly, I don't know whether or not I give a fuck-but I keep fearing that I'll wake up from this mad dream and I'll have to face my boss and my fiancee."
"It's no dream, lover."
She kissed me.
My cock was throbbing.
"You enjoy black lovers."
"Sometimes."
"Did you enjoy this guy."
"I don't know. He was kind of dumb. Came in my face, though."
"I was spying on you."
"You peeping torn!"
"Hey, look who's calling who names! You-you nympho!"
"Hey, who are you calling a nympho!"
"Who are you calling a peeping torn!"
We glared at each other until the horny excitement of all this drama overcame us and we kissed, passionately, under the hot spray of the shower.
Water thundered down upon us.
Our tongues snaked and squirmed, flickering over one another in a mad dance of hot lust.
Pure lust.
The kind that makes a man's cock hard, and a woman's pussy wet. I smelled her cunt. She felt my boner. "It's really hard!" she said. "Jesus, I have to piss so bad," I said. "Piss on me," she said. "What?"
"Gimme a golden shower. Punish me, Mark. I've been a bad girl. I've gotten us in all this trouble. Make me drink your hot piss."
She turned me on with her repentant and somewhat masochistic sex-plea, I couldn't refuse her.
Suddenly, the thought of pissing through a hard erection right on this naked chick made my libido burn with the fury of a hundred super-novas.
She stepped away from me, and looked sheepish.
She pouted.
Her lower lip curled into a seductive pout.
She spread her arms and I let go.
I felt the relief as hot piss rocketed through my cock and sprayed straight out of me.
The stream of hot piss hot her stomach.
Then I pointed my cock downward and I pissed on her cunt, as she spread her legs.
She felt the piss soak her pubic hair and burn her twat as it rolled down her legs.
She sank to her knees.
I pissed on her tits, spraying her cleavage and watching my golden piss drip, drip, drip off her erect nipples.
My hard-on was not vanishing.
Oh, no.
If anything, I was experiencing a new turn-on, a new thrill with this fantastic new kinky twist in the sex-adventure that Heather had introduced me to.
My piss ran up her neck.
It hit her tender flesh and spattered and sprayed in a million directions at once.
She opened her mouth wide. "Drink my piss, little bitch," I said, spitting the words through my teeth. It felt great. What a release of hostility. What a catharsis.
A cleansing of the soul through this outrageous act of sexual irreverence.
My piss began to arc as the blast was losing its power.
I pissed on her face.
I watched it roll down her cheeks.
And into her mouth.
She loved it.
Droplets of golden urine dribbled down the corners of her mouth, and her tongue thirstily licked the air fore more, more, more.
I could smell pussy.
A smell that penetrated the steamy air more strongly than the smell of urine.
That told me how turned on she was.
Really turned on.
She wanted more.
I pissed out my last blasts of piss.
My hard-on stuck out from my middle like a flagpole of red meat.
She got up and rinsed off and wrapped her arms around me.
"Make me cum, Mark."
I got down on my knees.
I soaped up my hands. I parted her legs. She stood, legs spread. Cunt dripping. Dripping cunt.
I worked the sudsy lather into her bush. I worked it into her twat.
I slipped my slippery hands over and over her labia.
She was going wild with sex-charge. Pussy.
Make a girl's pussy tingle with hot sex and she'll be yours. Sure, it's a slimy pocket of flesh. But it's the greatest turn-on a man can have. A real man.
Making a real woman know the fullest, deepest pleasures that her body can bring her. I slipped my thumb up her slimy slit. I applied pressure to the base of her clit. Clit.
I said the word over and over to myself. I stroked her clit. Up and down.
Pressing it into her, and letting it pop back out. I rubbed it up and down and felt it get harder and harder.
She was standing right under the blast of hot water that the shower soaked our naked bodies with.
I pulled my thumb away for a second and let the shower do some of the work. She felt the hot spray of water drench her cunt. Cleanse her cunt.
Tickle and steam and moisten her cunt. Until her cunt was practically alive with electricity.
That's when I went down on her.
That's when I knew we wanted me to eat her.
Eat her.
Eat her out.
Eat her cunt.
Lick her.
Lick my lover 'til she came, came, came. I stuck my tongue out of my mouth and lapped at her pussy. With a lot of pressure. I lapped her clit. She shrieked. I lapped her clit again.
She fell back against the tile wall and braced herself so that she would not slip and fall when she went weak in the knees.
And we both knew she was about to go weak in the knees.
For, as I pressed my tongue against her clit, I felt the thing start to vibrate. Thump, thump, thump, it went.
It seemed to get longer and thicker, too, to stretch out and assume the hardness that I had thought only a man's erect cock could have.
In its orgasmic audacity, her little love-nub grew against my tongue. It strove for the shape and size of a man's cock. Yes, it was, after all, a woman's prick that was the clit.
She convulsed as I licked her again and again. I showed no mercy.
I didn't care how many times she had cum. I was going to drive her into the next plane of earthly consciousness under the spell of sex. Hot sex.
Cum, baby, cum. five
On the plane to Paris, Heather and I talked.
"Heather, I think I'm going to go back to the states and turn myself in. It would be the right thing to; do. After all, if I'm innocent, I have nothing to worry about and if I have broken any laws, I should-"
"Oh, hush up. You don't know what you're talking about."
"What do you mean?"
"Because Charles is only going to have you tried by one of the judges that his Daddy bought, and the whole thing is going to be fixed and you'll wind up rotting in jail for the rest of your life."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself."
"Oh, I am. I can't tell you how many men have been ruined over the years because they managed to get on the wrong side of somebody like Charles Dale, or my own father. Justice in America belongs to the rich. You don't stand a chance."
"But what about Susan? My fiancee? My job? My career?"
"Forget about them. Fuck 'em."
"What do you mean, fuck 'em? I can't just walk out on my fiancee and my career! That's my life we're talking about!"
"Shhh. Just leave it to me, and I'll take care of everything."
"I suppose you'll marry me and we'll live in France happily ever after."
"Exactly."
"And do drugs the rest of our lives and languish in the sun on the Riviera."
"Exactly."
"And you have a Swiss bank account which isn't tied to your father's fortune."
"Exactly."
"Grow up, Heather. I can't just run away from life. Even if I am."
"Even if you are what?"
"Nothing."
"What? What were you going to say, Mark?"
I paused, and cleared my throat.
"Even if I am, well, er, um, infatuated with you."
"Oh, for Christ's sakes. Infatuated, you say. You're in love with me. Come out and say it."
"How can I be in love with a woman who steals me away from her own wedding and gets me in trouble with the police?"
She just smirked.
"How can I be in love with a woman who goes down on every black cop who knocks on the door?" She kissed me on the cheek. "You're cute."
"Jesus, girl. I had a good job and a good prospect for a solid family life back there in the States. Something my mom and dad worked their whole lives for. I didn't grow up rich and spoiled like you did."
"You were miserable, and you know it."
"I was not."
"You're full of shit, Mark! I could tell at the wedding that you were miserable. You had the look of a man who hated his job and hated the thought of marrying an unattractive woman-"
"Susan is not unattractive."
"She's not that good-looking."
"I beg your pardon!"
"She's not. You can do better."
I sat in somber silence.
"Anyway," Heather continued, "You had that forlorn look in your eye as if to say, gee whiz, I wish I was the one who was marrying Heather."
"I always did have a crush on you in college."
"I know. How come you never tried to fuck me?"
"I didn't think you'd be interested in a guy like me. I thought you were only interested in those rich types."
"Those rich types are all ass-holes. I always liked you. Why do you think I hung around you so much senior year?"
"I thought it was because I was selling you drugs."
"That was only part of it. There were a lot of guys who were selling drugs, but I didn't hang out with them and become their friends."
"I always had superior drugs!"
It was a silly joke, and Heather was nice enough to laugh politely.
"Your coke wasn't that good."
"True. I used to cut the shit out of that stuff to make the volume bigger. I could turn a gram into a gram-and-a-quarter."
"Really? All these years I never knew that."
"I confess."
"Shit. You think you know a guy."
"My pot was always the best, though. You must admit that. Remember when I got that Hawaiian sens right before exams?"
"Holy shit, that's right! God! That was fantastic.
I had seen buds before, but there in the aluminum foil was a whole fucking branch! A branch."
"Yup."
"It was red and purple, too, and one toke out of an ice-water bong. Jesus, was I flying. I swear I hallucinated off that stuff."
"Those were great times."
"Yeah, they were."
I looked in her eyes.
"I really love you, Heather."
"I really love you, too, Mark."
Attention, ladies and gentlemen. We are beginning our descent toward Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris. Local time is one fifteen A.M. The weather is clear with occasional clouds and local temperature is fifty-eight degrees.
Please extinguish all smoking materials and fasten your seat belts. We should be landing in approximately ten minutes.
By three in the morning, Heather and I were sitting drinking cognac in a cafe on the Champs Elysee, the main drag in the center of Paris.
Even at that late hour, the city was bustling with activity.
"We'll stay at the hotel for a few weeks until I can find a decent real estate broker. If you honestly miss working as an engineer, I'm sure I could find you-"
I just stared at the Arch of Triumph, that glittering marble monument a few blocks away, while Heather talked.
I couldn't believe any of this.
I just laughed, a desperate, disbelieving laugh.
"Are you telling me that you would prefer to go back to your old life slaving away for those jerks and being married to that bitch?"
"Susan is not a bitch."
"She was pretty damn catty at the bridal shower. Jealous, petty little thing."
"I'm sorry, Heather ... this is just all over my head."
"You'll get used to it."
"What was this? Just a whim? You thought that it would be fun to run away from your wedding and abduct me for some romp across the Continent? And when you're done with me, I suppose you'll run away from me just as you ran away from Charles."
Heather lit a joint. Right there in the open.
Of course, Paris was as cosmopolitan a town as New York, where everybody smoked pot out in the open anyway-but it still gave me a start.
"How did you get the drugs through airport security?"
"I have my ways," she said, passing me the joint. "I suppose you went down on the sky-marshal."
"I'll never tell. You want some more food."
"No, I'm stuffed."
"You don't trust me, do you?"
"Cod help me, I love you, Heather, but, no, I don't trust you."
She breathed a long sigh, and marijuana smoke billowed out of her nostrils.
"You want the truth?"
"Yes," I said, steeling myself. I fully expected to receive some shocking information. like, it was all some weird hoax. Or I was being set up as a pawn in some international drug-deal.
"You ever read a short story titled Eveline by James Joyce?"
"No."
"It's a little short story in a collection called Dub-liners. It's the story of a young woman in Dublin who is engaged to be married to a man who will take her to America and out of poverty."
"But she hates the guy, right? like you hated Charles."
"No, no, no. Now just let me talk."
For the first time in my life, I saw a serious side of Heather Sedgewick.
"She loves him, and he's going to take her away to a better life. But at the last moment, she doesn't go. The story ends with her waving to him as the boat pulls away and he's still beckoning her to come with him-but she doesn't."
"Sounds sad."
"There's that moment in the story where she just can't do it. She chickens out. She can't go with what her heart tells her. I can't explain it, really. It's been so long since I read it.
"But that stayed with me. That moment when you can do what you want to-or wind up stuck in the mud for the rest of your life to become a lonely old woman.
"Well, the character named Eveline can't bring herself to do it.
"That day, when I stood there in my wedding gown knowing that I was destined to spend the rest of my life being a bored society hostess, it was like a revelation to me.
"It was like Eveline in reverse. I saw you at the wedding, and I remembered how much fun you were back in college and how we'd all grown up so much that we had resigned ourselves to the normal, miserable lives that we were doubtless going to lead.
"My heart told me to run away. I was scared to do it, so I dragged you out to the car and I had to get stoned and drunk first."
Heather started to cry.
"A little voice inside me said don't do it, Heather! Don't be like Eveline! Follow your heart, no matter how scared you are!"
"That took courage."
Through her tears, Heather managed to get out her angriest words.
"Fuck everybody else. I was born rich and beautiful and if other people don't want me to lead a happy life, the hell with all of them."
I slid my chair over until I was close to her, and I put my-arm around her while she sobbed away the last few dark hours of nighttime.
*****
It took me about a week before I finally made the decision to stay in Paris with Heather and marry her.
Her little speech had sunk in.
I was miserable back in the States. Susan really was not the girl for me, I decided, and if the life of my dreams happened to fall in my lap I would be a fool not to go for it! , Heather found us a nice little townhouse in a section of Paris that seemed amenable.
My French was pretty awful, but I could get around.
I remember one day clearly. It was not a particularly sunny day or anything, but I had gone shopping with a very calm, cheerful mood.
Funny. I had been shopping for groceries because Heather said "It'll be a few months before I find servants." Servants! Jesus!
I remember passing by a fruit stand, and, on a whim, buying a ripe, round plum.
I bit into the plum, some of its juice dribbling down my chin.
It was sweet and delicious.
In my head, I was composing the letter to Susan and to my attorney back home which I was planning to write, to take care of al I those messy particulars.
A slim man in a gray suit and sunglasses came up to me.
"Excuse me, sir?"
I had not heard anyone speak English, except for Heather, in a few days. I was jumpy. He looked like a spy. An Interpol agent. The man from UNCLE.
My imagination started running in all directions at once. My palms got sweaty.
I measured the distance in my mind through the winding Parisian streets to our townhouse. "Sir?"
He grabbed my arm. I panicked.
I dropped my basket of groceries, and foodstuffs spilled out all over the sidewalk. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Here, let me help."
"No, no, please!" He took his sunglasses off. He helped me pick up the stuff I dropped. "I'm sorry! Uh ... my name is Vail. Steven Vail. I saw you and your wife moving in. I'm an American, too, and I live on Rue de la Fontaine two doors down from you."
"Oh, thank God," I said, breathing a long, long sigh of relief.
"Are you ail right?"
"Oh, a little edgy, that's all. Mark. Mark Lafferty." I shook his hand firmly.
"I hope I didn't startle you. I just wanted you to know that you've got an American for a neighbor in case you and your wife have any problems adjusting to life here in Paris."
"Why, that's nice of you, Mr. Vail."
"Please, call me Steve."
Steve and I walked back toward our place.
"My roommate and I would like to have you over for coffee some time. You know, the French don't do that a lot. They're not neighborly like the Americans are. It's been hard to meet new people since we came over here."
"What kind of work do you do?"
"Well, we're salesmen, opening up a Paris office for the company we work for-when we're not out chasing the French women, that is!"
I liked this guy right away. Even if he did look like the Man From UNCLE.
"You know," Steve started saying, "I have to say that the chicks here in Paris are among some of the most fantastic looking women I've ever laid eyes on. In fact, that's the reason I took this assignment in the first place.
"Wanna come up for a beer?"
"Hey, I'd be delighted."
"You can't fool me, Steve," I said, nudging my new friend in the ribs, "You just want to meet my sexy wife!"
Steve liked the joke. He took it in the right spirit, and we were friends immediately.
I didn't tell him that Heather and I were not yet actually married, of course.
It's not something you say to a guy on the make like that.
Besides.
Considering Heather's sexual history, and the personalities involved ... well, I knew something interesting would probably evolve.
And I, for one, couldn't wait to see what form those tantalizing possibilities might take ... !
We sat out on the terrace, sipping beers, bullshitting, waiting for Heather to come home from her errands.
"Hey, Steve, wanna smoke a joint?"
"All RIGHT! I was worried that there wouldn't be any dope. Jesus, am I glad we met!"
We had just lit the damn thing up when Heather arrived home.
She was wearing a white t-shirt and a jeans skirt, with a big, broad-brimmed straw hat that she had just bought.
She looked incredibly sexy.
Her nipples, naturally, were not shy about poking out of her taut t-shirt.
"Honey, I'm home! Oh," she paused, seeing Steven, "Hello."
"Darling, this is Steve Vail. He's an American who lives two doors down. He's just arrived in Paris with his roommate."
"Hi. My name's Heather."
Steve could not help but be turned on by Heather's fresh-faced charms and spectacular figure.
"Well it's great to meet you, Steve!" Heather said, putting down her things. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look like the Man From UNCLE?"
"I get that all the time."
"Getting stoned without me, eh?"
"Here," Steve said, and was quick to stand up and light the lady's joint for her.
I could tell that the sexual attraction between my new pal and Heather was strong.
My suspicions were confirmed when I helped Heather put some things away in the kitchen.
"I want to fuck him," she whispered to me, while Steve was in the other room enjoying his beer and reefer.
"I could tell."
"Would you mind?"
"How about the number three?" She kissed me and strutted out of the kitchen. "I knew I fell in love with the right guy," she said. I followed her.
I had never propositioned a man for three-way sex in my life before, and I was curious to see how Heather was going to do it.
It was exciting. Thrilling.
My cock twinged inside my jeans, and soon it was erect.
Heather brought out some more beers, as well as some long loaves of fresh-baked French bread that I had bought, and set them out on the table on the terrace.
Butter and cheese, and our little picnic was complete.
For about an hour, Heather engaged Steve in a typical conversation. Music, politics, what Steve did for a living, the usual sort of shit.
But all the while, there was an undercurrent of confident sex.
And a LOT of eye contact.
I watched, for the most part, and listened, occasionally offering something for the conversation, but didn't carry the ball.
I left that to Heather.
We smoked more pot and munched out on the bread and cheese.
It was warm out on the terrace. The sun was beating down and it was spring.
Heather picked up a tub of butter.
"Now this is what I like about France," she said. "In American restaurants, butter comes in those disgusting little wax-paper pats."
"Right! I hate those!"
"But here," Heather said dipping a knife into the tub of butter to spread it on a piece of bread, "Here in France, it come in a nice, elegant porcelain tub."
She bit the bread, letting her tongue and lips I caress it as if it were a lover.
Eye contact. Heavy eye contact with Steve the whole time.
Uncanny seductress, she was.
"So if you want a generous smear of butter, you I don't have to unwrap a hundred little packets!"
Steve laughed.
She leaned forward.
"Can I tell Steve our secret?" I nodded, knowing that she was up to some innocent little cock-tease play.
"We once made love, Mark and I, and we were using a lot of butter. And it was in a hotel, and I had to open up a hundred of those damn packets . ... ! "
Steve howled with laughter. "So by the time I spread them on his cock, it was almost an hour!" He howled again.
He was hooked.
I knew it. The rest was just a matter of getting him into bed.
Shit, hearing Heather say the word "cock" in casual conversation with a third party was enough of a charge to get my own pecker dripping love-juice.
"What about you, Steve?" Heather said following a huge swig of beer. "You ever do anything kinky like that?"
Steve was cool. Real smooth.
He looked right at her.
"Sometimes."
"You have an erection right now."
Steve said nothing, but blushed.
"You do, I can see it. It's okay! Mark and I are a really liberated couple!"
Steve rolled his eyes heavenward and slumped, slightly drunk, back in his chair.
"Don't tell me you don't swing, Steve," I said.
"Is this a gag? Am I being set up for a gag?"
"I'm sorry," Heather said. "I didn't want to embarrass you. Its just I saw that you were turned on, so I thought you'd be up for a little fun."
"Well . ... ! " Steve offered, sheepishly reconsidering his embarrassment.
"Here, fell you what. Mark, slide over."
I slid my chair over closer to Heather.
"I know Mark is turned on," she said, and she put her hand right on top of the bulge in my fly.
She rubbed my cock-bulge.
Slowly, up and down. Gently.
"If you'd like, you can watch me and Mark get it on for a little while, and you can join in whenever you're ready. okay?"
"Feel free," I said.
Steve nervously lit another joint.
He passed it to Heather, who passed it to me.
"Do you mind if I take my shirt off?"
Not at all.
Heather removed her t-shirt, and exposed her breasts to Steve and the empty garden below.
"You're an incredibly beautiful woman," a stoned Steve said.
"You're welcome to me."
Heather unzipped my fly and took out my erect penis.
Steve watched in horny awe.
My cock was huge and tender.
"Mmmmmm. I feel like going down on a hard cock," Heather said, and pushed her chair aside.
She knelt in front of me.
"Don't forget the butter," Steve said.
"Hah hah! Excellent, excellent. I like you Steve. It's going to be fun having you as a neighbor."
Steve offered her the tub of butter and Heather dipped her two fingers into it.
She smeared a generous smear of butter al over my erect cock. She worked it into the skin of my hard penis. "Join in?" she said to Steve. He hesitated.
"All right," he said, and nervously knelt beside her.
He pressed the butter up against the underside of my hard cock. He rubbed it in.
He realized he was enjoying it, and smiled.
"Fun?"
"Fun!"
Heather leaned over a little bit and kissed him. He returned her kiss.
It was an incredible turn on to have three hands working my cock, while Heather and Steve French kissed there in front of me.
I remember staring luridly at their flickering tongues. six
Soon, four hands were on my cock.
Soaked with melted butter, my cock felt Steve's hands and Heather's hands grasping it and sliding down its long, hard stalk.
I watched them French kiss.
Hey, this was France, after all.
I watched the little droplets of saliva fly from their flickering tongues as they slobbered over one another's lips right there in front of my hard-on.
Heather's naked tits were bouncing and jiggling. Back and forth I watched her mounds of womanhood shake. She was into it.
The two of us had never had sex with another man before. Their kiss broke.
"Have you ever sucked a man's penis?" Heather asked Steve. "Uh, no."
"Do you want to?"
"I guess," Steve said, betraying his ambivalence. Sure, it was the sex adventure that this stoned young stud had been looking for all his adult life.
But still, sucking a cock is a big step for a guy.
No matter how liberated he may think he is.
I know. Heather told me so.
"What do you mean, you guess?"
"Well, I've just never taken a man's penis into my mouth before."
"You enjoy what you're doing now, don't you?"
Steve chuckled a little and blushed.
We all noticed the horny intensity-the lusty fervor-with which he was plying my cock in his hands.
"Yes, I do."
"Doesn't that hard, red stick of meat turn you on."
"Yes, it does."
"Suck it, Steve," I said, entering the conversation.
He looked up at me.
"Suck my cock." Heather offered to go first. "I'll go first, and we'll take turns. I don't want to rush you into anything. When you're turned on enough, just push me aside and go down on Mark's thick erection."
Heather pronounced the words thick erection with the deliberate kind of enunciation that she saved for her horniest seductions. Heather held my balls in her buttery hand. She kissed the crown of my cock. Tingles went through my dick and up my spine. It was incredible.
She slid down, taking more and more of my erect penis into her warm mouth.
She went almost ail the way down, and then worked my cock in and out of her mouth for a few stroked.
I could feel her lap up the butter. She pulled her face off my prick and looked at Steve. He was entranced.
She kissed him, and then she moved her ass over to the left.
I felt a new mouth kiss and suck the crown of my erect cock. Steve's mouth. A man's mouth.
He went down slowly, taking an inch at a time into his mouth.
When the majority of my cock was in his face, I felt him start to gag.
Heather put her hand on his shoulder.
He spit out my slippery dick.
Heather went down, sticking her tongue out and shaking her buns in the air.
No longer was she only performing for me.
She was performing a blowjob on me for somebody else.
A real sex queen she was.
That whole new aspect of it-of having sex for an audience, an observer, with the idea of tempting the observer into becoming a participant-it was new to me.
And it was thrilling.
Kinky.
Uninhibited.
For here, in the romantic city of Paris, where all our pasts were lost forever, three of us could enjoy an adventure into the wild and unpredictable land where our only guide was the march of our collective libido.
"Let me suck him off for a while," said Heather, her fresh tits catching a cool breeze in the warm sunshine, and her nipples rising to the occasion.
She went down on me.
She licked my balls.
Her hair fell upon my thighs as I sat like a lordly sex-king in my chair with this wonderful woman supplicant at my feet.
She sucked my balls.
I could feel her catch the occasional pubic hair in her teeth or her tongue, and she would spit it out. Steve was hip to the action. He snuck around the other side of Heather. "Stick that ass up in the air," Steve said to her. She did.
"I want to fuck you from behind," he said. "Nnnn!" the girl hummed in horny assent. As her tongue pressed against the underbelly of my swollen dick, Steve undid his pants. His hard-on came out.
It was a big thick red piece of cock meat, for sure. Oozing and slimy.
His prick curved more radically than mine did, making almost a bow-shaped arc as it rose into the air.
Steve was perfectly equipped for fucking a woman from behind.
I wondered if he was going to butt-fuck her, or shove it in her twat.
He grabbed her tits from behind.
The butter was still greasing his fingers, ad she loved the feeling of his greasy fingers working the surface of her big tits.
Her big, perfectly-shaped tits.
Breasts. Mammaries.
Call them what you like. To me, they are essential to the sexual attractiveness of any horny woman. Steve obviously shared my view. He was a tit man. A boob lover.
I watched his spread fingers flail across the surfaces of her fulsome breasts.
Her nipples poked through the gaps in his fingers.
Trails of butter lined the round slopes of her lobes of flesh.
I saw his cock poke right through her legs.
Here I was wondering if he was going to ram it into her ass or her snatch-and he jams it between her legs!
Clever son of a gun, I thought to myself-and experienced, too.
For he knew that sliding the cock back and forth in-between a woman's legs is a great way of prep-ping the cunt for penetration.
His member slid against her pussy lips as it arched up her crotch and came out the front, smiling its vertical slit smile at me.
Up and down he jerked his cock against her crotch.
His erection.
She bobbed up and down on my prick at the same time.
An odd assortment of rhythms, perhaps-but great sex.
He was stimulating her clitoris.
Her pussy juiced, and juiced heavily, making the slippery ride in and out of her crotch all the more exciting for the two of them.
And me?
The more excited Heather became at the mercy of Steve's thick cock, the more passionately she blew my head.
Yes.
The more libidinous the jerks to her own clit, the more fervently she sucked my boner. You bet.
The harder he teased her snatch with his stiff prick, the wetter and hotter she took my penis in her mouth.
And that was just perfect.
I sat back in the sunshine of the late Parisian morning, and as Heather sucked my cock, I lit another joint.
I passed it over Heather's shoulder and held it up to Steve's lips.
"Thanks," Steve grunted in-between thrusts of his cock between her legs.
I didn't want him to take his hands off her tits!
Steve and I toked.
Heather pulled her head up off my stiff cock for a second.
"Hey, getting stoned without me?" she said. Her chin was wet, and her mouth was dribbling. She picked her hand up off my thigh and wiped her mouth.
She sucked the joint smoke into her lungs deeply.
She exhaled the smoke through her nostrils.
"I love sucking your cock," she said, "and Steve here is fantastic. The way he paws my tits. Shit, this is great."
She was right.
This was the life.
"You think that's something," Steve said, his speech noticeably affected by the marijuana, "Get this."
Steve pulled his slimy prick back, throwing his ass cheeks way up in the air.
His cock slid out from between her legs.
And he slapped his member against the crack in her ass.
He pulled her closer to him, palming her tits.
This time, I watched her nipples slide between his still-buttery fingers.
Those little pink dots did a lot for me.
They made my cock sizzle with horny heat.
They made my balls tingle with lust.
They made me want to jam my dick back into her.
Steve slid his pecker, face down, up and down along the crack of her ass.
"Ohhhh, my ass! You're turning me on so much!
Jesus, Mark, this guy is terrific!"
And I was not even jealous.
It did not bother me to share Heather with another man-even though I must admit I loved her.
Quite the opposite.
It was thrilling to share her.
To swing with her.
To watch her convulse with erotic pleasure. To watch her dance, naked before me, her dance of total sex. She gripped my thighs again. Steve rammed his cock into her cunt. From behind. She gasped. "Ohhhh ... GOD!"
I knew she wanted two cocks inside her at once. I grabbed the back of her head with my hands. I dug my fingers deep into her thick locks of hair. I forced her face down on my cock. Shit.
She was so enthralled by the thrills that Steve's thick member were delivering to her twat and her clit, that I could not wait for her to go down on me of her own free will.
I hate to force her.
Yes, that's right.
I had to rape the woman's mouth.
I forced her head down on my thick erect penis.
In fact, her teeth bumped into the fleshy crown of my hard dork, and scraped the sides of my stalk as she swallowed one inch after another of my hard-on.
I forced her to give me head as Steve fucked her cunt from the back.
She squatted and writhed on his cock.
I even could see it, over her shoulder, a little bit, without too much strain.
It was red and slimy.
It was that familiar bridge of curving meat that spanned the galaxies between her hot cunt and his hairy bush.
In and out.
I jammed her head farther down on my cock.
I wanted her to swallow me whole.
I would have it, if I had to get rough with her!
And get rough with her was just the new twistthat elusive, innovative angle-that the sexual encounter of the moment demanded!
For, after sweet love making, the libido frequently demands more physical action that tenderness can muster.
And when the body craves action.....
When the flesh longs for meat . ... When the drive drives on . ... You've got to FUCK, baby, FUCK! Jam your pecker down her throat! Ream her snatch! Beat the bitch if necessary!
It was what Heather's own corporeal self was demanding at that moment!
Don't tell me otherwise-I was there. I felt her yearnings as they translated into flickerings of her tongue and lips on my own maleness.
Every suck on my dick was a quest for more hot lust.
I knew it.
Steve knew it.
Heather knew it.
Fuck.
Suck.
Cock.
Cunt.
She bit me.
Yeah, she gave it back.
I felt her mouth close on the bottom of my rigid member.
At first, I recognized the hard suck as a way of keeping me from cumming too soon. But the hard suck turned into a bite. Her cheeks gave way to her teeth. Her molars.
Yeah, the molars way in the back of her mouth.
That's how far and how deep my cock was lodged in her mouth.
She clamped me down, and I fell the surge of anxious pain that caused ripples of inexplicable pleasure to overwhelm my body.
"Ahhhhh!" Steve laughed.
He jammed his pecker hard into her cunt, and she lurched forward.
As she lurched, all the trembling spasms of her cunt made themselves manifest in the way she bit and sucked my cock.
She bit.
And sucked.
My cock.
Flannery O'Connor. Mack the Knife.
My head was swimming in the sensations of sex.
Then, allowing only a small amount of pressure to be released from her clamping jaws, she let my cock slide slowly, almost painfully, out of her wet lips.
Heather held my prick in her teeth for s second and then spit it out.
She stood up, and I watched Steve's cock slide out of her twat.
She stood naked in the gentle breeze, and locks of her hair cascaded over her shoulders.
Her pussy was running, thick smelly rivulets of love-juice own the insides of her legs.
"Hey!"
"What gives!"
"Didn't you mention that you had a roommate?" she asked Steve.
"Yeah."
"Is he home now?"
"Probably."
"I want three men."
"Is that why you stopped before we could cum?"
"Yes."
"Jesus!"
Steve and I looked at each other, our erections managing to stay erect, but our minds definitely bewildered.
"This is excellent. But I want three men. One in my mouth, one in my pussy, and one up my ass."
Steve shook his head in disbelief.
A man never gets used to the demands and fickle will of a sexy female.
Especially when he's been fucking her blind for twenty minutes.
"Look, maybe we can all four of us get it on tonight? But why don't we finish up what we were doing now?"
"Yeah, Heather, it was just getting good!"
"Men," she muttered. "Always impatient for the orgasm."
"Jesus! If we could cum thirty times a second like you can, well, maybe we wouldn't be so damned impatient."
"Yeah," Steve joined my in chiding her, "How many times did you cum just now-little miss selfish!"
"More than I could count."
"What do you think, Mark?" Steve asked.
I stood up and tucked my hard-on back inside my pants.
"Let's find your roommate."
I had learned not to argue with Heather Sedgewick.
*****
Steve's roommate Tony did not look like a sex-crazed animal.
He looked like a regular guy.
The kind you see on TV commercials.
The introductions were brief.
"Mark and Heather are incredible swingers. Fire up a joint and let's boogie," was the tone of the conversation about an hour after we arrived.
"Am I being set up for something? Is this some kind of gag?" Tony asked.
"Sounds like awfully familiar dialogue!"
"Honest!" I offered.
Steve and Tony shared a modest flat.
"We'll use Steve's bedroom," Tony offered.
Within five minutes, Heather was naked.
It was hard for that girl to keep her clothes on.
She just loved being naked.
She placed an arm around Tony, and started seducing him with her incredible lurid conversation.
"You know what we were just doing?" she said as I fired up another joint.
"What?" Tony said as his cock began to bulge plainly from underneath his jeans.
"I was sucking off Mark's cock, while Steve was fucking my cunt from behind."
"Shit," was Tony's stunned-and aroused-reply.
"You ever seen Steve's cock erect?"
"Uh, no I haven't."
"It's huge. Show it to him, Steve."
Steve had cornea long way beyond his inhibitions since the day had begun-but at this he hesitated.
"Oh, come on-show your buddy your hard-on!"
Pause.
"Do it for me?" she said, and Steve could no longer resist.
Here it is," she said, and helped Steve off with his pants.
His member was still a bit flaccid, but we all watched it rise up, up, up ... !
"Look, isn't it huge? And I love the way it bends. It curves ... it's a beautiful dick. I think I'm going to go down on him right now."
Tony looked at me.
We barely knew each other longer than an hour. "Where did you GET this chick?" he asked. "Tony, my man, if I told you, you would never believe me in a thousand years."
Tony watched as she licked his roommate's prick.
Steve was sitting on the large French double-bed.
"Fuck-I'm getting a piece of this," Tony said, and whipped his clothes off.
He bounced on the bed on his ass, lying on his back.
"Right here, girl-this is the cock you want!"
"Ahh, more cocks! I love ft! I'm surrounded by erect penises! It's a dream come true!"
She spread herself out on the bed alongside Tony.
She slapped her tits right down on his thighs. "
He rocked his hips and his cock slid up and down her cleavage for an incredible tit-fuck.
I watched Steve climb on top of her and press her tits against his roommates cock from above.
"Ahh! Ah, yeah! Oh, yeah-baby!"
I could not stand idly by.
No, sir.
Not me.
I whipped off my pants and grabbed Heather, laughing as I pulled the writhing naked woman's body up from Tony's stiff cock.
For a few minutes, chaos reigned.
Four naked bodies were laughing and screaming in delight as we rolled about on the large bed.
We wrestled for Heather's twat, her tits, her shapely legs.
Four naked cocks.
And one twat.
In retrospect, it sounds like a Pirandello play. "Four Boners In Search of A Pussy." You know, like "Six Characters In Search of An Author?" Forget it.
Anyway, I remember pulling Heather toward me and feeling her buns slide over my cock.
I jammed my prick in-between her ass-crack the long way. .
"Ohhhh! That feels neat!" Heather cried.
Tony started kissing her tits.
Steve went down on her, licking her twat.
This went on for about ten minutes.
Ten beautiful minutes.
Funny thing.
Earlier in the day, our three-way fuck on the terrace had the burning intensity of all-encompassing seriousness. '
This was lighter in spirit.
Less of a steaming rape-and more of a romp.
A bawdy, audacious romp. seven
There we were. Five Americans in Paris. Me, two other guys, and her. Heather Sedgewick.
Millionaire debutante and nymphomaniac. She was having the time of her life. Crawling around on a bed surrounded by four naked guys. Each with one erect cock.
And two hot balls.
Four cocks.
Eight balls.
Two tits and a pussy.
It was quite a bowling score.
"okay, okay!" she shouted, and we quieted down.
She cleared her throat.
She was so high and so giddy that she kept breaking up.
"okay, now this is fun, but I came over here for one thing and one thing in particular."
We all kept stroking her and kissing her as she spoke, her head surrounded by a bevy of pillows.
"Ahem. I want all my orafices filled."
"Is that the plural of orafice?"
"I thought it was orafi."
"Shuddup I'm talking! Hee hee, you're so cute," she interrupted herself, scratching my pubic hair.
A drop of love-juice fell from an aching cock.
"okay, now. I want one guy in my mouth, one in my cunt, and one up my ass."
"Shit, a chick who-likes butt-fucks!"
Tony said this-and suddenly, we all knew a lot more about Tony.
"I'll go get the butter!"
"Hey, another guy who-likes butter!"
Tony returned with the butter.
"okay. Choose up. Obviously," Heather continued; managing a straight face, but grinning uncontrollably with a broad smile, "Tony wants to ram his pecker up my ass."
"Since you were sucking my dick earlier, why don't I fuck your cunt, and Steve can fuck your mouth."
"Good idea."
"Who first?"
It was like a conductor conducting an orchestra. "Mark, you lay down."
I lay down, and my cock stuck up from my middle like the Washington Monument from its landscaping.
I heard Tony speak in a low voice.
"Jesus, that guy has a cock bigger than my forearm."
"You're exaggerating-but thanks."
Heather climbed up on top of my and straddled me.
Steve grabbed my cock and guided it into her love-hole. I felt my prick slide into her twat. And it was grand!
"Ahhhhhh!" she sang in a falsetto voice. Tony kneeled on the bed, facing Heather's ass. His legs were spread wide apart. His fingers were deftly applying a liberal smear of butter to her hot ass.
He stuck his fingers into her crack.
He diddled her inside her ass-crack once or twice.
Maybe even three times.
All I can tell you, was this.
That Heather was fucking a cock and having a man spread butter inside her ass in preparation for entry-from-behind.
As I fucked Heather, she squatting up and down, riding my bucking dick like a bronco, I began to wonder.
Steve is going to be fucking tins chick in the face, I thought to myself.
I contemplated the fact that his crotch and genitals would be flapping about right over my face.
I liked the idea.
Hell, I thought to myself.
You're only young once.
The thought of licking him clean while Heather blew him was beginning to sound enticing. "Fuck me up the ass, Tony. Now. I want it." I saw Tony thrust. I saw Heather writhe.
As he fucked her ass, she flew forward and down deep onto my pole.
I was deep, deep inside her. So was Tony.
Steve climbed up on top of me and straddled my shoulders.
He was in position to stick his cock in Heather's face.
All she had to do was bend forward a little.
It was sort of like one of those puzzles. You wonder how the pieces can possibly fit together, but once they do, it looks like that's the only way things could ever be.
He jammed his cock in her lips.
I licked his anus.
I fucked her cunt.
Tony fucked her ass.
In and out.
Up and down.
Forward and back.
Can you imagine how Heather must have felt?
How completely turned on she must have been?
Can you for a second imagine the unabashed thrill of having three erect penises inside your own little female sweet hot body?
Can you?
Can anyone?
The noises alone was enticing. There were the grunts. The slurping sloshes. The slaps. The moans.
The heat of flesh upon flesh, skin churning gaily against skin. Those tits!
How we all tried to palm them at once, each one of us so entranced by our own individual positions inside the girl!
I remember pawing her boobs, my hands sliding over hers and his and his and his.
I remember being so overwhelmed with what seemed like centuries of foreplay and final full-fathomed fucking that I shot my wad in a series of blasts which must have rivaled the force of the Atomic Bomb tests at Bikini Atoll.
In and out.
In and out.
I kept licking Steve's ass as he jammed his prick in her mouth. Steve was next to cum.
Soon, his slippery dick was spilling semen all over me.
Cum dripped from the corners of Heather's mouth and her chin down onto my chest. Tony was the last to lose his liquids. He filled her full of jizz.
*****
I lit a cigarette and sank into a wicker chair in the corner of the room.
Steve was smoking a cigarette on the bed, as he stretched out alongside Heather's naked body.
Tony, wearing a bathrobe, poured a glass of white wine and took a sip.
"Ahhh," he said, smacking his lips.
"Well, Heather, I think we've set some kind of record," I said. There was no response. "Heather?"
Steve picked her up by the shoulders. "Steve! Is she--. "
"Just out cold, Mark."
"Jesus. We fucked her unconscious, fellas." She looked pretty lying there in her catatonic state.
"Should we wake her?"
"No, not yet. Let her sleep," Steve said, getting up and putting his pants on.
"It'll make it easier for me to do this."
I looked toward Steve, and saw him standing there pointing a gun at me.
A rush of absolute panic washed over me. I stood up and raised my hands in front of me.
He flashed a badge.
"Steven C. Vail, Interpol. Mark Lafferty, I hereby place you under arrest under the terms of international law for one count of kidnapping and six-counts of illegal drug trafficking."
"Holy shit."
Tony showed me his badge. "Anthony M. Cummings, Central Intelligence. I'm sorry, Mark, but the law has caught up with you."
"What about the girl."
"Fuck the girl."
"We just did."
"We don't exactly have time to stand here and make clever repartee, Mister Lafferty. The girl is coming with us. Now why don't you get dressed, and we're all going on a nice long car-ride to the local offices of Interpol where you are going to be charged formally."
I slipped on my shirt.
"Charles Dale set you guys up? Or was it Old Man Sedgewick?"
"If you think I'm going to spell out who my informants were, then you're not only a criminal, but you're not too hip, either."
"I'm no criminal, and the facts will come out in due process of law," I told them, sounding confident.
In reality, though, I knew that what Heather had told me was true. That I was going up the river. Justice was a commodity to be bought and sold by the internationally rich and powerful-and I was strictly bargain-basement material.
Shit. I knew it was more than coincidence that Steve looked like the Man From UNCLE.
*****
The hearing was a sham.
I had spent about six hours in jail and was freed on $50,000 bond, which Heather paid. Heather's lawyers did their best, but the Grand
Jury was so obviously paid off by Charles Dale and company that it was laughable.
I was indicted after six days of testimony. The judge instructed the Grand Jury to ignore the testimony from Heather and the witnesses that her lawyers had gathered.
Heather and i made a quick exit out of the courtroom and ran down the marble corridors before any of the men from the press could corner us.
We got into a taxi.
"I miss Paris," I said, and Heather, who was probably more upset that I was, rested her head on my shoulder.
"I promise I'll get you out of this somehow," she said, her voice trembling.
"Forget it, Heather. We'll go through with it, and I'll go to jail, and maybe in jail I'll write a book about it all, and then I'll get out of jail and we'll expose the whole thing for what it is."
"You shouldn't have to suffer like that."
"Shouldn't. A lot of things in life shouldn't. Tell that to . ... to what's his name . ... "
I took the ticket out of my pocket and read off the name of the judge who was going to preside over the upcoming trial.
"...to Justice Edison."
Heather gave a start.
"Edison? Not P. Michael Edison, perchance."
"Uhhh, yeah. Justice P. Michael Edison."
She took my hand in hers.
"You haven't got a thing to worry about."
"Why? You know this guy?"
"He used to bounce me on his knee when I was a little girl. We had a home on Martha's Vineyard down the road from his when I was growing up. That was back in the days when he was running for Congress."
'What are you going to do, Heather, blow the judge?"
"Oh, hell, no," she said.
"Thank God."
"He's kinkier than that."
*****
Justice P. Michael Edison's chambers were quite an elegant setting, properly staid and judicial.
We were to meet with him before the trial.
I was so nervous I was practically shitting in my pants!
"Don't you think we ought to have the lawyer with us?"
"No. Trust me."
"Look, if this guy is old friends with your dad, then maybe he's already been paid off so handsomely that seducing him is going to be hopeless."
"Shhhh!" Heather hissed at me as Justice Edison entered.
He was a fatherly-looking man, with silvery hair and kindly eyes.
As soon as he walked in, Heather beamed a broad, girlish smile and out-stretched her arms.
"Hi, Uncle Mikey!"
Uncle Mikey?
"Ahem! Hello, Miss Sedgewick," he replied. The Judge was obviously trying to seem important and official, but there was a twinkle in his eye that gave away the fact that he remembered Heather fondly.
"I must say you certainly have grown since I saw you last," he said.
"Oh, I'm an all-grown-up young woman now."
"I also have to confess that I'm deeply disturbed to see you involved in this nasty business. I have never met you before, Mister Lafferty, but I must say that as far as first impressions go, 'm not impressed."
Bastard.
"Don't you think that since you're friends with the Sedgewick family, you should disqualify yourself from presiding over my trial?"
"I'll make the judicial decisions here, Mister Lafferty. May I remind you that you've been brought up on some very serious charges."
"May I remind YOU that I am innocent until proven guilty?"
"Be quiet, you insolent little-"
"Please!" Heather calmed us down. I didn't like this guy. And he obviously didn't like any lower-class scum like me who would get his old buddy's daughter in trouble.
I had grave doubts about Heather's little plan.
Grave doubts indeed.
"Uncle Mikey-I mean, Your Honor-I would appreciate it if you would treat Mark with respect. Not only because he is innocent, but because I love him and I'm going to marry him."
The guy bristled.
"I understand that you became friends in college because he was a drug dealer who forced you to experiment with dangerous chemicals."
"He never forced me to do a thing."
"I refuse to believe that you, Heather, who I always thought of as tenderly as if you were my own daughter, would ever do drugs unless coerced."
"Well, that's sweet of you," she said to him, giving him just a hint of smile. He harrumphed.
"I remember how we used to play when I was a little girl. You used to come over to the house and read me stories and give me presents."
The guy tucked his face into one of his chins and adjusted his glasses.
"Daddy had a lot of friends in those days, but you were always my favorite."
That was Heather in action. She could melt a heart of stone.
And this guy's ticker was solid granite.
"So, well," she said, tucking her face in and starting to pout as she drew a finger across the surface of his desk, "I guess you're a little disillusioned that I would have done drugs in college...."
That pout. She was directing her little-girl act at the judge-but me, I was feeling my cock uncurl inside my pants.
"...but little girls grow up, Uncle Mikey. Honest. I wouldn't lie to you if I told you that Mark is the kindest, sweetest man in the world, for example."
He took his glasses of and placed them on his desk.
"Heather, I ... " he stopped in mid-sentence to wipe his eyes.
"I've been a bad girl, I guess," she said, unrelenting with her heart-rending tear-jerking little speech.
"I remember once when I was a bad girl and Daddy spanked me in front of you-"
"PLEASE!" he came alive and his face grew beet red. "Please do not ever-EVER mention the spanking again. Please. Especially not in front of a stranger."
"Mark is not a stranger. I told you he's the man I love and am going to marry." Spanking?
The quizzical expression on my face was enough to cue Heather.
"Onetime when I was a little girl I stole something from the drugstore and my daddy caught me," she began.
"Please Heather, this is neither the time nor place ... " the judge said is a small voice but she would not stop.
"Uncle Mikey-well, he's Justice Edison now, but back then he was just my Uncle Mikey-was over at the house and Daddy was furious with me.
"I'm going to give you a good spanking! Daddy said, and I started to cry. No! Not in front of Uncle Mikey I screamed and screamed, tears rolling down my face."
The judge was silent now. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't say anything.
"I was so young! I was still in pigtails! And right there in front of Justice Edison, Daddy pulled down my skirt and took me over his knee."
"Heather, please stop," the judge said.
Heather saw my erection.
"We're going to show Uncle Mikey how we treat naughty girls around here! Daddy said. It was so embarrassing. So ... humiliating."
Heather continued the story.
"My little pink buns were so tender, so smooth. And Uncle Mikey watched. He watched me as I cried. He watched as my Daddy brought down the flat of his hand and smacked my little buns so hard.
So brutally, brutally, hard."
I looked at the judge.
His eyes were shut and his teeth were gnashed.
"I'll never forget the smile on Uncle Mikey's face. The leer. I saw his teeth, so straight and white, break through his lips as he watched my Daddy spank my bottom."
I swore that a tear fell from the judge's eye.
"It gave you an erection, didn't it, Uncle Mikey?"
"Yes. Cod help me, yes."
"It gives you an erection even now to think about it, doesn't it."
He said nothing.
"Answer me, Uncle Mike. I know it's embarrassing to bear the pain in front of Mark. Just as it was embarrassing for me to bear the pain in front of you, those many years ago."
"Heather," he said, his voice wavering.
"You have a hard-on, don't you?"
"Yes."
"I've been a bad girl, Uncle Mikey. And I want to be punished." She stood up.
I could not believe I was actually witnessing this. I thought I had seen everything. This was beyond belief. , Heather got out of her chair and came over to me and sat on my lap. She put her arms around my shoulders.
The judge just sat there! He just sat there, doing nothing!
"Mark, I've caused you a lot of pain. Here. Now. In front of a Justice of the Law." She bent over.
I was nervous. My fingers were trembling, but I went through with it.
After all-I was going to go to jail anyway. I had nothing to lose anymore.
I undid her skirt and pulled it down.
The door was locked and the shades were drawn.
"You want to see it, don't you Uncle Mikey?"
He couldn't say anything, but he nodded.
Don't tell me his cock wasn't thick and hard.
She stepped out of her skirt, which had fallen to the floor.
Her ass was naked.
She stood with her furry bush staring straight at the judge.
She bent down over me.
Her elbows rested on the arm of my chair.
Her ass was thrust high in the air, toward the judge.
My cock was hard and dripping love juice.
This woman's sexual range knew no limits.
I brought my hand way up in the air.
The judge's eyes widened.
We were playing to an appreciative audience.
I brought my hand down and spanked her.
I hit her buns hard with my hand. WHAP!
It was a sharp, loud, stinging noise. The sound of my hand slapping her ass. "Owwww!" she cried.
"Aw, man ... ! " the judge whispered under his breath, forgetting himself.
I'll never forget the way it felt to punish her ass like that.
I could feel the hard slap of contact, and I could feel her tender flesh yield underneath my hard, hard hand.
Momentarily there were ripples as her ass shook like firm jello.
I pulled my hand up from her ass. Her cheeks were red.
Her crack was so smooth, so frail, so vulnerable. WHAP!
The judge was transfixed.
Hey, it had been a good twenty years since he had seen a sexy little girl's ass spanked naked and raw.
And now the sexy little girl was a grown up sexy woman.
This was probably the turn on of his life.
Scratch that word "probably."
Definitely.
WHAP!
I was into it.
I leered and bared my teeth as I brought down my hand on her ever-reddening ass cheeks.
Her buttocks at first were very firm and hard because she tensed her muscles.
But with every hit, she lost more and more muscular control of her aching, aching ass.
Oh, I was gonna spank her good. eight
SMACK!
I spanked Heather's naked ass-cheeks with my bare hand over and over.
Right there, in front of justice P. Michael Edison.
He eyed the lurid scene with horny intensity.
Drool collected at the corner of his mouth.
"Owww! Ohhhh!" Heather cried with ever spank, as her tender naked ass got more and more red and sore.
I felt myself getting drawn ever deeper into the sexual pleasure of punishing this sexy woman, this woman that I loved so dearly.
Had she not, after all, seduced me and complicated my life beyond my wildest imaginings?
I hit her again.
WHAP!
"Oh, Cod," she said, tears welling up in her eyes and mucous in her nose, "I'm sorry, Mark. I've been so bad!"
"Bad girl!" I cried through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry! So sorry! Owwww!" Justice Edison watched me smack her ass over and over.
She began to cry.
Sobbing with the cathartic sobs of a woman who knew the extent of her misbehavior. It felt good. Damn good.
"Sorry, Daddy! I'm so sorry!"
Her cries began to become gurgles.
Her ass was beet red.
SMACK!
She gritted her teeth. She tensed up.
I knew she was having an orgasm. SMACK!
"Bad, filthy little slut!" SMACK!
"Sucking off that black man's cock!" SMACK!
She bawled and cried to her Daddy. Ancient guilt, buried for decades, rose to the surface of her libido and made her cunt quiver. I smelled pussy. My nostrils drank deep. SMACK!
"Slut! Fucking three men at once! Sucking and fucking every hard cock you could find."
"I'm so-sorry...."
She grasped the arm of the overstuffed chair in which I sat and gripped it until her knuckles were white. . .
"Dope fiend! Drug smuggler! Liar! Filthy, disgusting lying BITCH!"
SMACK!
"Owww! Please, Daddy! I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry . ... "
The judge was leaning over his desk with his mouth open and his eyes fixed in a trance-like gaze of fascination.
"Come over here and smack the bitch, Mike," I said.
He looked up at me. Eye contact. I did not waver.
"Smack her. You want to. Get over here and let's put this whole Goddamn thing behind us."
"I-I can't...."
"Forget about fixing your hard-on, man! Get over here!"
"If this ever gets out."
"Get over here."
He stood and stepped over toward the chair.
"Look at her, Mike. So helpless. So frail. So tender. like a virgin, touched for the very first time."
He reached out his hand and ran a finger across her buttocks.
"Oh, God I do love it so."
He spanked her.
Not hard, at first.
It made him laugh a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she whimpered and he smacked her.
Right across the buns.
"Her tits," he said in a soft whisper.
I smiled.
A confident smile. Heather heard. She turned over.
"Unbutton me, Uncle Mikey," she said through streams of happy tears.
Her face was so red, broken out in a kinky blush of unholy orgasm.
She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
The judge took his robe off and threw it on the floor.
He rolled up his shirt-sleeves.
He began to unbutton Heather's blouse as she lay on her back across my lap and against my chest.
"Sweet Holy Christ," he said.
She wore a frilly satin bra.
Her nipples poked through.
He ran his fingers over the material.
He pulled her bra down until it hung loosely about her torso.
Her tits, naked, stared up at him.
They floated like the two huge mounds of womanhood that they were on top of her exposed chest.
"Spank me," she said. "Spank my tits."
He reached up.
"I can't...."
"Spank her, man! Give the bitch the palm of your mother-fucking hand!" SLAP!
"Ahhhhh!" she gurgled, lost ion an orgasmic land of blissful pain and humiliation.
It was the raw-est, deepest exposure of her naked soul.
The sexual thrill of having her tits punished-tortured-by her former childhood godfather.
The man who had watched her grow up.
He slapped her tits and they shook like mounds of jelly.
Once.
Twice.
And then, WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! In a sequence of short, sharp shocks.
They were staccato blasts of his own guilty fury-the deep longings of her perversion that had lay buried for so many long decades.
He erupted in a giggle and a grin that turned into a throaty laugh.
A chortle.
This man who had sat in judgment of so many was now administering his own punishment to the object of his more secret, shameful desires.
"God I always wanted her! Do you hear me, Heather? I always wanted you!"
WHAP!
Then he grabbed her tits in his hands and pulled them, as if he wanted to rip them clean off of her beautiful naked torso.
"But I couldn't have you! My best friend's little daughter! GOD, I was furious!"
"Owww, ohhh, God, I'm so sorry!" she wailed and sobbed.
I was rocking my hips underneath her, humping : her raw, naked ass with my bulging cock through my pants.
I knew that would be the most sinister and devastating form of pleasure and pain-gratification and denial.
"So if I couldn't have you, you had to be punished! I wanted to hurt you! HURT YOU! HURT
YOU!"
He pinched and tweaked one of her nipples and pulled his fingers off from her nipple.
His finger-marks deepened the redness of her tit and faded with the seconds.
Her tit nipples were erect.
I humped from underneath.
Give the jet-set nympho what she wants, men.
Give her what she deserves.
Hurt her.
Thrill her.
Make love to her.
Make her love it.
Make her cum.
"So I would hurt you anyway I could," he said, starting to break down from the rational as he plied her tits in his palms and then smacked them to and fro.
"I watched with pleasure as your Daddy spanked you!"
He slapped her tits with the back of his hand, and then, in the return stroke, with his stiffened fingers and palm.
"And I leered when I found out I could send your new boyfriend lover to jail!"
He grabbed her thighs in his hands and pulled her legs wide apart.
Her naked pussy was wet.
Really wet.
I raised my knees and he held her legs in the air for a second as I undid my pants and took out my penis.
My erection.
My hard-on.
My cock.
Cunt juice dripped down her crotch and made her ass-crack wet.
I slipped my dick back and forth in the slimy region to lubricate it.
While I was doing this, the judge took down his pants.
His cock was a thick boner.
I grasped my penis in my hand and placed the head of it right against Heather's now-slimy ass hole.
"I waited years for this," the judge said. "I never dreamed it would ever come true."
He jammed his hard-on into her cunt.
She bucked.
And my cock slid right into her tight, tight ass. Her sore, tender ass.
The crack whose cheeks we had just punished raw.
And he fucked her cunt and I fucked her ass.
I watched his nostrils flare and his teeth clench.
He had to steady himself by reaching out and grabbing the arm of the chair.
It was an awkward position, I guess-but the thrill of knowing the inside of Heather's cunt was more than compensation.
I rammed her ass.
He fucked her cunt.
Over and over.
The judge came before I did.
I watched him as he lost strength in his knees.
His body seemed to lumber and buckle in the force, the heat, of the lurid and incomparable sex act to which he was party.
His eyes went wide.
I could feel his orgasm ricochet and rebound through Heather's body.
With every pulse of his cock, Heather's middle tightened and loosened in sympathetic vibration.
And, as her pussy flexed to receive the convulsing surges of his male flesh, so did her ass contract in pulsating massage.
The same ass in which my stiff prick was pounding her.
I felt his orgasm go right through her.
It was as if the judge were not only fucking Heather but also fucking me.
That's what he was out to do after all.
Fuck her.
And fuck me.
Me, the handsome young lover whom she wanted and desired instead of him.
It was a penetrating orgasm for him-a penetrating explosion of homosexual hate-love through the channel of his sadistic love for Heather. It lasted long.
He dumped buckets of semen into her.
As he lost control of himself, he let go of the chair and grabbed Heather's tits.
He squeezed them so hard she flailed back and forth.
I wrapped my arms around her torso and fucked her from behind. "Ummph!" Thrust after thrust. "Ungh!"
As the judge had fucked me right through Heather, now I was going to use Heather to fuck the judge.
I thrust and her cunt and torso bumped the judge's orgasming cock.
"Anghgh," he grunted, his brow knit and his eyes clamped shut.
The intensity of the experience threatened to overpower him.
It was almost an outright act of symbolic murder. I would fuck him until he could take no more. As if I were acting out a dark pantomime of the ultimate revenge. Wealth. Power. Status. The Law. Authority. I fucked them all.
Heather was a helpless rag doll under the steaming power of my male cock.
My hard penis.
The judge was in agony.
The sweet agony of a man whose erection was fading after the moment of shooting his wad. For, I would not let up.
I would not let him pull his cock out of Heather's cunt.
And every thrust of my dick up her ass made her whole abdomen flex, expand, and contract.
She was fucking his cock after he came.
His fingers dragged along the surface of Heather's pale milky white and pink body.
They left white tracks which would disappear into the blush of her steaming orgasm.
At last, I felt the force of my own manly biology overtake me.
I jammed her hard.
The judge was defeated.
Every molecule in my body seemed to affect a different atomic orientation.
As if lifted from my corporeal self, my consciousness fuzzed and faded, to be replaced by a completely new, unknown state of mind.
A state of body, and being.
The universe hummed in synchrony with a liberated burst from deep within my cranium.
I was one singularity.
It lasted the briefest second-or maybe the longest hour.
I knotted into a small concentration of matter and mass. And then, it hit. Bang.
With the fury of a primordial tempest, my body re-asserted its dominance over my mind.
I was no longer in control, but cast helpless in the tide that was my body's orgasm.
It's fullest and most dramatic moment of complete joy.
Light and color shot through my head as my skin tingled.
And then all I could feel was my erect penis. My cock.
It seemed to overtake me, to swell into a mountain of tremendous strength.
I felt as though I were ripping Heather clean apart.
Semen flew from me and filled her ass.
With every shot came another re-enactment of that bang-that moment of holy glory.
The cycle of birth, death, and renewal.
More than simple sex, here was a religious moment, when the forces which composed my very spirit flushed me with their sweetest fluids and drained me of my own liquid essence.
It was so powerful a rush that I could hardly stand it.
I wonder. Did I scream? Was I silent?
Did I try to make a sound to express some of the residual energy of my climax?
Or did everything I had to offer come shooting out through the terribly small slit in the head of my penis?
Immeasurable amounts of matter with an acceleration of incalculable velocity raced through this tiny, tiny opening in my body.
I felt the power of the thick fluid forcing its way out of my body and deep, deep into Heather.
Heather, the object of all my desires.
Heather, the overriding force that had twisted my life from its ordinary patterns and convoluted it until I saw a whole new view of the world, and myself, and the universe.
Heather, whom I loved.
And to whom I expressed that love with every drop of jism that I emptied into her bowels.
The judge was staggering back, his cock slipping out of Heather's twat.
He rested against his desk, and then slumped onto the sofa.
He was breathing so heavily that he had to be careful not to hyperventilate.
All I felt for those calm moments of triumph was the beating of Heather's heart.
It beat with mine, and the reverberations of our heart-beats sent a message to whatever cosmic force would receive it.
A message as primal as sex and as sophisticated as love.
A message as meaningful as passion and as empty as hatred.
Simply that we were one, and terrible, and wonderful and everything belonged to us all at once.
My penis shrank inside her bowels and Heather cooed softly.
"Ohhh, my dear Lord," she said, and was happy.
*****
Heather's lawyer finished reading the judicial writ that had arrived by telegram that morning. It was a few days later.
"I'm afraid I don't understand a word of it," I said.
"Darling, it's good news," Heather said.
The lawyer took his glasses off.
"Yeah, well, the legal language is as confusing as hell, but she's right. It's basically good news."
He explained.
"Justice P. Michael Edison has issued a judicial decree that Grand Jury proceedings were inconclusive and that his court would not hear the case."
"okay," I said, still not certain whether I could breathe freely yet.
"He also stated that the charges by which you were brought to the grand jury in the first place were obviously gathered by means that violated international law."
"okay," I said again.
"Now, whether or not this judicial opinion can be accepted as evidence in any further hearings is uncertain."
"Which means?"
"Which means that you're not off the hook, but it has been duly recorded that you were screwed up the ass as far as having the cops on your trail."
"And Charles Dale?"
"You have every right to sue Charles Dale for harassment."
"You bet your ass I will."
*****
To make a long story short, I was eventually tried by a district court of charges of speeding, operating a motor vehicle under the influence of alcohol, and a couple of other petty charges.
I was fined heavily. Heather paid the fines, and we instigated a lawsuit against Charles Dale for a huge amount of money.
Harassment, mental anguish, you name it.
The last I heard from the lawyers, Charles Dale was willing to settle out of court.
Heather and I were married in a quiet ceremony several weeks ago, and have been holed up in her apartment ever since, trying to make some sensible plans about our married life together.
"I don't care what you say, Mark. I want to return to Paris."
"Well, if we do, we are NOT going to live in that same townhouse."
"Why not? It was a really nice little place."
"Let's just say that my associations wit the place are too strong."
"Sure, sure."
"I mean, being arrested by interpol agents and everything kind of-"
She cut me off before I could say any more.
"Need I remind you that was the scene of some of our most fantastic fucks?"
She disappeared into the kitchen before I could say another word.
Damn, that woman could be frustrating!
"I mean," she said returning from the kitchen with a little tray, "Wasn't it lovely not to have to unwrap a hundred little packets of butter ... like this?"
She spilled a hundred little packets of butter out on the tray.
"Hah! What is this, a surprise?"
"Happy anniversary, lover," she said and kissed me. "We were married exactly one month ago today."
"You know, that was one of the advantages of living in a town like Paris." I began to unwrap on of the packets. And she unwrapped one.
Packet by packet we made a stack of pats of butter on the little tray.
"Well, now that we've got a stack of butter on this little tray, what do you suppose we're going to do with it?" , "That was my other surprise, lover," Heather said, and called down to the doorman on the intercom.
"Send them up, please?"
I sat there in the kitchen wondering what the hell she was up to.
There was a knock on the door, and Heather went to answer it.
Three gentlemen walked into the apartment.
One was white.
One was black.
And one looked like the Man From UNCLE. I blanched!
"Relax, fella!" Steven Vail said. "You're in the clear nowadays," Tony offered. "Happy Anniversary," the cop who worked the airport security detail said, and shook my hand. I laughed.
"Oh, sure! Some anniversary! You invite over all the guys you liked to fuck! What about ME?"
"We brought some friends," the black cop said, and opened up the door of the apartment to reveal something like a dozen great-looking women standing in the hallway with bottles of champagne and party favors.
"You know," I said, "It still amazes me what wealth can do. Come in, everyone! Let's party!"
The next thing I knew I was stoned and high on cocaine, while men and women in various states of undress danced to the music from our stereo.
Corks or champagne popped.
Heather grabbed me away from one of the women as I danced.
"I didn't forget about the butter, darling. I' II bet it's good and melted by now!"
She retrieved the tray.
Soon, her nimble hands were buttering up my thick erect cock and balls as the other members of our party looked on in stoned amusement.
And it's been a great life ever since. about the author
Edmund K. Tweezle was born in River City, Iowa, in 1944 and to date has never once seen the movie "The Music Man," which is set in his home town.
The son of a ferret breeder, young Tweezle personally found the furry creatures loathesome and ran away from home when he was sixteen, and that same year joined the Merchant Marines in search of adventure in exotic places. Unfortunately, Tweezle was assigned to the administrative offices in New Dorp, Staten Island and promptly went awol.
The Merchant Marines, Tweezle says, didn't look too hard for him, so he settled in New York City with no goal in mind other than "keeping my belly full." To that end, Tweezle ran numbers, delivered pizzas, ushered at the Loew's State and decided to finish his education, enrolling in Murray Glassberg's High School Equivalency Institute on 41st And Broadway in Times Square.
For an extra fifty, Tweezle graduated with honors and with the Institute's free placement service, landed an important job at Waldbaum's Supermarket as a "product distributor."
"I bagged the Goddamn groceries," Tweezle remembers fondly.
To keep from going crazy, he bought a second hand Royal typewriter and started banging out short stories, submitting them to different magazines.
He sold his first to GRUESOME BUT TRUE magazine in 1963. The story, entitled "I Cut Out My Husband's Heart and Put It In My Salad!" earned Tweezle a tidy fifty dollars, which came in handy as bail money the following week when he was arrested for molesting a life-sized cutout of Mamie Van Doren in front of a 42nd Street movie theater.
Tweezle's first novel was MONA'S OOZING CLIT, a light-hearted tale of Mona, whose clitoris is in her left nostril. Tweezle claims that his 1967 novel was the basis for the hit movie "Deep Throat" and sued the film makers, who although denying they ever read Tweezle's novel, settled
Tweezle was drafted in 1968 and immediately moved to Canada, inadvertently settling in Northern Michigan some two miles from the Canadian border, which wasn't quite far enough, the M.P.'s later informed him.
He survived eighteen months in Viet Nam and returned to the States in 1970 with an unexplainable fear of kiwi fruit and even more unexplainable, Slinkys.
Despite these handicaps, Tweezle continued his literary career, turning out three novels in rapid fire succession from 1971 and 1978:
DEBBIE DOES DISHES, a comic sex romp about a former cheerleader who gives phone sex for big bucks while washing the dinner dishes;
GOING DOWN IN BEVERLY HILLS, a socio-comedy about a rich, bored housewife who takes on the Japanese gardener, the delivery boy, the mailman, the dry cleaner . ... ;
THE WRATH OF COHEN, a sci-fi sex-travaganza about an intergalactic rabbi that earned Tweezle the coveted F.F. Feldman Award for Erotic Fiction in 1977.
Tweezle is unmarried but lives with a person of undetermined gentler named Monty. JET SET NYMPHO is Tweezle's tenth novel. He cannot promise it will be his last.
