The alarm went off promptly at seven-thirty. I rolled over and fumbled with the stop, finally silencing the sudden outburst that vibrated throughout my bedroom. Settling back under the warmth of the covers, I allowed myself another few minutes of idle comfort on this hellishly cold January morning.
Following last night's wild romp with Beth, I could sure as hell use these moments of additional recuperation. The brief, four-hour sleep had rejuvenated my overworked pussy as well-as my half-numbed brain, restoring my body to a reasonable state of normalcy. The lingering effects of our torrid love-fest remained to remind me again of the absolute rapture of our association. Stealing another brief moment, I snuggled deeper into my bed.
Winter in New England is invariably a drag. Born and reared amidst the adversity of its sometimes wretched weather and the accompanying hardships, I had learned to cope with the uncouth elements, which assured me a reasonably normal survival. Aside from my insatiable desire to experience the inexhaustible pleasures of sex in its many glorious aspects, I suppose I could be called the average American girl. That is, if you can still call a female of twenty-eight a girl. Yes, it was twenty-eight years ago on a bright spring morning in late April that I was christened Greta Helen Farr. On a morning like this name and age become totally insignificant.
It wasn't until I'd cleared the cobwebs from my groggy head that I realized this was Saturday, my day off. Fantastic! No need to scramble out of here like a maniac to get to work on time. I was like a condemned convict receiving a much-needed reprieve. What a great feeling, so comforting and satisfying. I had no difficulty making my impromptu decision. I sank deeper into the covers to bask in my luxury.
Rubbing the sleep from my half-opened eyes, I was suddenly recapping the blissful events of the night just passed. Lingering visions of another Utopian escapade with Beth were still dancing around in my clouded brain, reminding me of the ecstasies we'd shared only hours ago.
Beth is absolutely the greatest thing that has happened to me in many a moon. Gorgeous, lovable Beth! I close my eyes and see this lovely talented creature, so flawless and impeccable . . . the lustrous auburn hair falling over soft shoulders and framing an angelic round face, the deep brown eyes that sparkle under sweeping long lashes, the luscious full lips that have a meaning of their own. The true indisputable ultimate in femininity-that's Beth.
Our five-year relationship has endured longer than any I've had with either man or woman. And there have been plenty. At twenty-eight, I've seen and done just about everything sexually possible with both sexes, and I've loved every lustful minute of it. If there is anything more to be learned about sex, I'll most assuredly be the first to know about it.
I've been called everything from "the tall, blonde bombshell" to "the blue-eyed, longhaired lay of the land" by my various partners in lust. Actually, I'd say I'm about average in the looks department, but my sex-possessed body undoubtedly makes up for any deficiencies that may lurk elsewhere. I've sometimes been identified as "gorgeous" by some of the often half-drunk guys or girls who'd wanted a quick lay, a fast blow-job, or an on-the-spot tongue treatment. After the consummation of the acts I was often called "the irresistible slut." I entered the realms of nymphomania at a very early age and decided, good or bad, sex was my chief interest in life . . . the ruler of my destiny. It seemed that meeting Beth was something that just had to happen.
Right now I could feel the warm, gentle touch of her sensuous hands over my body again. I could see the long, tangerine-tinted nails of her fingers mingling with the hair surrounding my anxious cunt as she sent waves of sheer ecstasy roaring through every nerve center I possess. The sensation of her slithering, talented tongue still remained as I envisioned the paths it took as she explored her way along the length of my body, stopping to linger deliriously at appointed places along the way. The soft folds of her silky auburn hair glided teasingly over my sensitive loins, shifting and brushing and tantalizing to send additional waves of pleasure through, my sex-crazed body as she unfailingly continued to do her thing.
Beth was an expert in her field, and she claimed that I reciprocated in an equal manner. Somehow I always felt she was far superior even though I'd had oodles of experiences behind me. Webster never came up with a word to describe the heavenly things she could do for me.
My amatory fantasies were starting to get to me, as I recollected our most recent love-party. The warmth of the covers and the satisfaction of knowing I could stay in bed contributed to my sense of utter abandon. Here I was, all alone, to carry out without reservation any idle whim that might strike my imagine at the moment.
Already wet with passion and crying out for immediate attention, my torrid cunt throbbed pitifully beneath the softness of the blankets. I didn't go through the usual preliminaries . . . the slow body teasing, the avid nipple stimulation, the gradual build-up to the main event. I was already past that stage, and ready for the immediate action.
My fingers went directly to their designated position between my quivering legs, rubbing and strumming furiously like a zealous musician slapping at the strings of his bass fiddle. Already the heat of my gathering passions had built to the point of no return, as the blood in my throbbing veins sent waves of burning sensation through every square inch of my squirming body. With the fires burning deep inside of me there was no need for covers now. I yanked them to the far side of the bed and shimmied out of my nightclothes, leaving my completely naked form free to enjoy unrestricted my masturbatory onslaught.
Alternating now between the rapid movements of my probing fingers and a slow, gentle caressing of my swollen cunt lips, I was able to prolong the ecstasy for a few more minutes of sexual bliss. As always in my private masturbation sessions, I closed my eyes and relived the fantasies of the wide variety of experiences I'd had in the past. I remembered the hard, thrusting cock of big Joe Barnes slamming into me as I tried to emulate those many beautiful moments with the long, hard rubber flashlight
I kept next to my bed. Spreading the wet, dripping lips of my cunt I positioned its tail end in preparation for the grand entry, making sure the on-off switch remained facing the top, where it would perform its appointed duties upon my excited clit.
Wild with the anticipation of what was in store for me, I plunged the rigid apparatus deep into the walls of my waiting vagina. I could almost feel Joe's hot, panting breath upon my mouth, and the wetness of his tongue reaching out for mine. With the rapid approach of a fantastic orgasm I pushed and pulled the object between my thighs, increasing the speed of my thrusts as the big moment approached.
Now there was no turning back, and I was harboring no intentions of doing so. I was now at the brink of that joyous magical moment! Wetting the middle finger of my idle left hand, I inserted it fully into my ass in preparation for the grand finale, as Joe's imaginary cock continued its vicious attack without missing a single beat. A million vibrations raged through my burning body as I arched my back and entered the concluding phase of my private, torrid fuck-fest. My probing finger working rapidly in and out of my throbbing rectum, while the improvised dildo continued the job it was intended to do in my cunt.
Like a bomb falling to earth, it happened. The explosion was inevitable. A final frantic thrust sparked the chain of events as all hell broke loose. My screaming, sex-possessed body elevated into an uncontrollable, quivering arc as I felt the fabricated spasms of Joe's ejaculation pounding into the walls of my pulsating pussy. The denouement was fast, deliberate.
As I settled down with a final sigh of sexual release, I withdrew the gadget, still maintaining that this was Joe's big, beautiful prick. Raising it to my lips, I licked the thing dry, just like I'd always done for him. The pounding in my head "began to subside as I pulled the covers over me again and proceeded to recover from my perfectly delectable experience. A smile of satisfaction crossed over my lips as I fluffed my wrinkled pillow. "Thanks, Joe," I said quietly under my breath, "thanks for a hell of a fuck."
The early morning sun filtered in through the turquoise drapes on the window. I could hear the occasional beep of a horn on the street three floors below my apartment. In the summer the traffic noises were boisterous, but now there was the usual Saturday morning peace and quiet in the outside atmosphere. This I liked, for now I could continue to relax in the serene comfort of my cozy little abode. It was good to feel the satisfying tinge of contentment, one of the advantages of living alone . . . undisturbed privacy.
I was suddenly wondering if Beth had gotten up on time after our deliriously rough night. She'd gone home to her own apartment sometime around three a.m., and had to get up at seven to drive her brother up to Hartford. While she was there she'd planned to stay at her parents' place over the week end. The main roads had been cleared, so she should have no big problems getting there.
A glance at the clock revealed that an hour had passed since I'd been so rudely awakened. I now had the choice of pulling myself out of bed for the usual morning coffee and rolls, or remaining a while longer to ponder over events of the past, present, and future. My decision took but a moment. I could have breakfast later. Why not permit myself a few more minutes of this idle luxury?
Alone with my thoughts, I was suddenly thinking about my office boss, Carl Rhodes, and began to wonder what he might be doing right about now. Chances are he slept in on Saturdays too. I wondered if his wife, Grace, might be using this time to her best advantage in keeping Carl well satisfied. This very moment they were probably still in bed fucking the day away, with no kids to interfere with the activities. I could see that big hard prick of his in action, and I couldn't help wondering if his wife enjoyed it as much as I always did. I remembered the permanent little blood-blister at the base of his otherwise magnificent cock, and recalled how I laughed when he told me how he'd caught it in his zipper after urinating in the men's room at the office.
I'll never forget that day. I knew something was wrong the minute he'd come back into the office. I'd gotten back from lunch early and the others were still out. I had just removed my coat when he'd summoned me into the file room and closed the door behind us. He was gently rubbing his crotch as he turned with a half-smile and said, "Wanna see something?"
"Does this pay time-and-a-half?" I grinned, figuring Carl just had another case of the lunch-hour hots.
He always called me "Gret."
"Seriously Gret," he said, becoming more serious, "I need some help.. . I've got a sick dick."
"Sure, sure you have," I returned quickly, "tell me more.. . "
He unzipped his pants and very gently lifted out his limp organ, fondling it like it was an injured sparrow. I'd seen that beautiful cock many times before, but usually in its rigid state of erection. Moving closer to me he cradled it in his hand to show me the extent of his injury. Sure enough, right at the base of his dong nestled a little dark-red bubble, not more than a quarter of an inch in diameter. The zipper hadn't torn the skin and I knew it was nothing serious. I summed things up quickly. Just another ploy by Carl so that he could get himself a little fast nookie. I couldn't help breaking out into a spell of giddy laughter, and Carl wasn't sure how to take it.
"You'll live," I chuckled. "It'll heal in a few days."
"It's a tough place to put salve on . . . it'd stain my shorts," Carl said, still holding the flaccid penis in his hand.
"I wouldn't use a Band-aid either," I laughed, "you just might get an erection and burst your vessels."
Carl seemed amused at my unusual sense of logic, and a sly grin came over his face. "You know, Gret, when an animal gets a wound it licks it to make it better . . . " He was waiting for my reaction. I knew exactly what he had in mind. "I've heard that," I said quickly, "but I don't think you could ever reach it." Our uninhibited exchange of words was having an effect on him, for he let go of the flabby, dangling piece of baloney and I could see it starting to swell and grow. Carl's face took on that certain far-away dreamy look as he began to stroke and fondle the now-rigid pole that extended boldly from the open fly of his blue tweed trousers.
He looked at me like a hungry puppy coaxing its master for a hand-out. "Kiss it for me, Gret. Make it better . . . " he pleaded. That big, throbbing rod staring me in the face seemed to be doing its own pleading, as it jerked up and down with a little help from Carl's persuading hand. "Suck it, Gret. Make it feel good." Carl was breathing heavier by the second. I knew the office crew would be back soon, so I had to work fast.
I dropped to my knees as Carl leaned against the door. I was relieved to hear him snap the lock behind him. My hot, moist lips were craving to engulf this beautiful steaming cock, the entire length of it, but I decided to do some teasing first. I started with that pitiful little blister at the base, flicking my gyrating tongue over it, around it, tapping it, licking it, leaving it wet with saliva. I continued up the side of the throbbing tool, stopping momentarily to moisten the bulging cobra head, following down the opposite side, lapping and licking as I proceeded randomly along my uncharted course.
The big luscious erection was now standing at full attention, rigid, throbbing, waiting to be swallowed into the depths of my eager mouth. I paused momentarily to concentrate again on the swollen glans, circling and teasing the enlarged head in preparation for the final .drive. Waves of passion swelled through my body and settled inside my hot, wet pussy, urging me on to greater heights in my delicious demonstration. Carl had now reached the stage of intense arousal, breathing faster, twisting and squirming, absorbing gratefully all of the delightful pleasures I was rendering. "Suck it, Gret," he begged, "suck it good . . . " I parted my moistened lips and lowered them slowly, attentively over the steaming shaft, easing it further into the burning cave of my jaws while my probing tongue curled rapidly around the throbbing head. "That's it!" Carl gasped, urging me on, "Deeper now.. . DEEPER!"
I didn't need any coaxing. Now I was hotter than Carl, the fire of passion roaring inside of me. My hand had quickly found its way to my waiting pussy, and I was rubbing it, stroking it, kneading it, now matching Carl's growing passions. The feel of that beautiful, thick, throbbing hunk of meat rubbing, slipping, sliding inside my cheeks and lips was too much to bear. I had to have it all.. . every last inch of it, deep in my burning mouth.
My thrusts became longer, bolder, more determined, as I felt the big round tip colliding with my tonsils at the bottom of each delicious stroke. Carl had now lost all control of himself as he cupped the back of my head in his trembling hands, pulling me into him, keeping perfect rhythm with my frantic thrusts.
A couple of short, preliminary throbs inside my mouth told me Carl was ready to explode. My fingers automatically quickened their furious pace between my legs as a prelude to the approaching climax. My quivering body released its sudden gush of rushing moisture as Carl pumped a seemingly endless load of love cream far into the depths of my waiting throat. I wanted every last drop of it, as I continued to suck, slowing my pace to a gradual stop as Carl's spasms died quickly away. My educated tongue cleaned away the final traces of liquid from the diminishing erection as things rapidly returned to normal. We were both left with a completely satisfying sense of accomplishment. "Beautiful, baby," Carl said happily, zipping up his pants.
"Is it all better now?" I asked him as I stood up and straightened my skirt. I gave him a sympathetic smile.
"All better," he said. "Gret, you're the greatest!"
"Thanks," I told him, "wouldn't have missed it for the world."
Carl unlocked the door and peeped into the office. The others were just coming in at that moment. He breathed a little sigh of relief. "We made it," he said, straightening his tie. I gave him a reassuring wink. He was about to go out the door when I touched his arm. "You know, that thing of yours really WAS sick," I said.
There was a tone of curiosity in his voice. "It was?"
"It threw up, didn't it?" I replied, throwing him another sly wink.
"Right on," he smiled. "Next time it needs attention I'll call on Doctor Greta."
"Anything to please the boss," I told him.
The rest of the day went faster than usual. As I left the office that afternoon I had a strange feeling of satisfaction inside of me. I now had one more beautiful experience to add to my growing list. Some day, I thought, maybe I could write a book.
I reached over and took a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand. Lighting it, I lay back on the pillow, sending the first puff of smoke curling above my head. I might as well enjoy this little pre-breakfast siesta to the fullest, I thought, easing further into the comfort of the warm covers.
With Carl still on my mind, I began to wonder what would happen if he ever found out about Beth and me. He had known right along that we were good friends. In fact, I first met Beth through Carl. She had been his private secretary for three years before being offered a better-paying job elsewhere. She just couldn't refuse the offer. I started to work for Carl the same week Beth left his company. He always considered her to be the perfect, efficient secretary, never suspecting anything out of the ordinary regarding her personal life. There was never anything between them, other than a sort of brother-sister type relationship. She often dropped in to visit with him out of pure respect and admiration for their past congenial association.
It had been some sort of freaky incident between a couple of Carl's past office girls that left him with his intense hatred for lesbians. I never learned all of the confusing details, but it sure as hell screwed him up to the point of distraction, finding out about their off-beat activities. Since then he had hated lesbians with a passion. He looked upon me as just another horny, affable female from the first month I worked for him. Right off, there had been a sort of pleasant rapport between us, and it was only a matter of weeks till he had gotten into my pants.
Somehow, I have always seemed to emit some sort of lusty animal magnetism wherever I have happened to be, which probably accounts for the wide variety of sexual experiences I have chalked up over the years. Call it in-born carnality, or label it just plain sensuality, it has been my life's trademark, and will undoubtedly follow me to the grave. Almost like an obsession, it has become a constant necessity to have a sampling of each and every sexual treat before I make my exit from this planet. So far, I'd have to say I've done reasonably well, and at this particular stage of the game I believe I'm right on schedule. Both my heterosexual and homosexual encounters have been thoroughly satisfying and enlightening. True, there have been disappointments along the way, but they come and go like the tide.
Almost everybody has aims and goals in this life. Some will reach them successfully, others will fail. But if I could render but one helpful piece of advice to each of them, it would be a little smidgen of wisdom that I learned from my father long ago as a young girl. I, never forgot his words when he took me on his lap that day. "Greta, if you can remember one magic word," he had said in his convincing way, "you'll never have much trouble getting what you want out of life. The word is 'determination.' " It has stuck with me from that day to this. Determination. I have learned that it really works. If you want something bad enough and you have the determination to reach out for it, you can have it come hell or high water. You've got to stick with it, and sometimes you've got to fight hard for it, but if you are determined to have it, you can.
My determination has paid off many times in the past. Most of my sexual adventures have ended successfully as a result of my determination to consummate the act to my total satisfaction. My meaningful relationship with Beth came about as a direct result of a determined effort to make her my devoted lover. It happened the very moment of our introduction by Carl. Then and there, my mind was made up. As she stood before me in all her feminine glory, the epitome of loveliness, the indisputable image of Venus, goddess of love and beauty, the passions within me rose to insurmountable heights. The spur-of-the-moment decision was one that just naturally had to be made. Like when you are sure that day is certain to turn into night. This chick was going to be mind. Determination.
The clock had now advanced another forty five minutes, and seemed to be urging me to snap out of this preposterous siege of laziness and arise to meet the challenges of the day. I choked out my second cigarette and deposited it in the half-filled ashtray beside the clock. I glanced at the remnants of the ones Beth had placed there during the night, admiring the familiar pale-red color of her lipstick so neatly imprinted on the filter tips, transferred there from her luscious, lovable lips. The white quilted pad we used to cover the bed sheet to prevent the mattress from being soiled lay folded over the arm of the chair, still damp and stained with the evidence of our most recent love-party. Two empty glasses and a half-filled bottle of Scotch remained as mute testimony to a thoroughly enjoyable event. Still hanging limply from the drawer pull on the night-stand where she'd left them for me to launder were Beth's delicate ice-blue panties. Impelled by a sudden uncontrollable urge, I grabbed them up and buried my face in them, sniffing them, rubbing them, tasting them, imagining Beth's pink, juicy cunt inside begging me to perform my artistry upon its luscious folds. The tantalizing aroma invaded my nostrils, again stirring up the lust within my body. The desire to reach beneath the covers and begin another involvement with my own moistening pussy was overwhelming, but my better judgment told me
I should restrain myself. I had to reserve my energy for other things ahead.
My erotic urges began to subside somewhat as I still fondled Beth's flimsy panties between my fingers. For some strange reason I was suddenly trying to compare this delightful scent with that of a much younger female, trying to determine if there would be a difference. This was one of the few areas of erotic experiences I had yet to explore . . . a very young girl. The opportunity had just never presented itself to me. My past record included scores of men and women, and even boys at the age of puberty. But never a girl that young. I don't know why, but it brought to my mind my fifteen-year-old niece, Joyce, as an example. Probably because I'd been watching her rapid development from a child into a sleek little preadolescent piece of humanity. I'd been following carefully her advancement into the wonderful age of puberty, the reshaping of her svelte little body, the gradual enlargement of the diminutive bubbies, the overall transformation that seemed to be running far ahead of schedule.
Already Joyce was showing indications of extreme curiosity regarding the mechanics of life. Her mother, Ruth, my sister-in-law, had told me Of Joyce's recent questions concerning matters relating to sex. She seemed to know a lot of the answers before they were given to her. Seeing the rapid change taking place, Ruth and my brother Charles had kept an especially watchful eye on Joyce, paying extra attention to initiate the necessary protective measures, as parents usually do. In their case, they always seemed to go a little overboard.
Joyce was already beginning to take on most of her mother's lovely features . . . the long golden hair, the same bright blue eyes, cute little narrow-bridged nose, full puckery lips that always seem ready to give or receive a tender, loving kiss. Her impish smile belonged to my brother Charles, and was as contagious as yesterday's measles. The last time she had stopped by on one of her frequent after-school visits, I kidded her about being a carbon copy of Ruth. "I know you're just jiving me, Aunt Greta," she had laughed, "mom's a lot taller than I am."
"Your mother's a beautiful woman, honey," I told her. "You may not get quite as tall, but you're just as pretty."
Ruth was not only lovely, but she had the charm to complete the successful combination. There had been times since she married Charles that I had entertained thoughts of trying to seduce her. There had been several opportunities that seemed just right at the time, but somehow there were always second thoughts. There was always Charles to think about with his old-fashioned ideas about morality. He had gotten deeply involved with the church and lived strictly by the rules. Ruth had always followed along, presumably because it was the thing to do. Thus the reins were automatically tightened where Joyce was concerned.
Funny, I thought, how a person's mind will wander off on different tangents this way when left alone in the solitude of her own environment. In a way, the time hadn't been entirely wasted, so I shouldn't have harbored any feelings of guilt. After all, my day to this point had undoubtedly rendered me a therapeutic service. A person needs a little free time occasionally to catch up with things.
My timepiece was now demanding definite action on my part, offering no further respite from my self-imposed sojourn. My early morning interlude with peace and tranquility had come to an end. The moment of truth had arrived. It was time to arise and meet the world face-to-face.
CHAPTER TWO
My Saturday morning breakfast was a little later than usual. I leisurely consumed a small glass of juice, a couple of Danish rolls, and a cup of Java. Actually, I could have skipped the whole damn thing. Finishing, I headed to the kitchen sink and rinsed my few dishes, leaving them in the wire basket to drain. I padded past the television set and made a hasty decision not to flick it on. There'd be nothing to watch except Saturday morning kid shows. These I could do without. I could listen to the news and weather forecast later.
As for the news, it would probably be the usual offering of overnight crimes, an update on the growing energy crisis, with more pleading to keep the thermostats low, and a new report on accidents due to the bad road conditions. A quick look out of the window and I could almost make my own weather prediction. The thermometer outside told me it was now fifteen degrees. The sun that had broken through earlier was hitting it head on, so the actual temperature still had to be somewhere in the vicinity of zero or lower. The wind had died down to nothing during the night, so the chill factor would be nil. Summing it up, I could conclude that we'd have another crisp, cold January day, extending to three weeks the unrelenting blast of frigid air.
I don't know why it should occur to me now, but I was suddenly looking back on the ninety-five degree day eight years ago when I'd first moved into my apartment at Manor Arms, probably the oldest apartment house in the area. I wondered if Gus, the apartment custodian, would be around to check the thermostats again today. Right now my apartment was cold, but not unbearable. Being warm-blooded, it didn't bother me much, so I decided to go along with the lowered temperature. Most of the people in the building were cooperating over the period of the extended freeze. Officials had been pleading for a joint effort by everyone until the weather showed some signs of relenting. I was suddenly feeling thankful that my car was nestled comfortably in the apartment garage downstairs.
A fast hot shower contributed to a fresh feeling of warmth throughout my body. I dressed in my green wool slacks and chartreuse sweater. I was brushing my hair when the phone rang. "Hi Greta," Joe Barnes said from the other end, "how's the weather on your end of town?"
"Cold, Joe." I answered quickly. "Damned cold!" I hadn't heard from Joe in several weeks and his voice sounded good to me.
"It looks like that weatherman's trying to make Eskimos out of us," he quipped.
"He sure as hell is," I said. "It's revolting."
"My car battery conked out yesterday when I came out of the school," Joe said, "I had to get a new one."
"So far, mine's been holding up," I told him, "but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. What else is new?"
"I've something to tell you, Greta," Joe said. "Mind if I stop in for a few minutes after a while?"
"I'll be here," I said quickly, "a team of wild horses couldn't drag me out of here today."
"I have to stop for some groceries first . . . I'll drop in on my way past," he said before he hung up.
Being Saturday I knew there was no school. Joe taught tenth grade at Melwood High School; in fact, my niece, Joyce, was in one of his classes there. He never married, choosing to remain a bachelor rather than hook up with some enterprising female. Now, I wondered, what in hell did he have to tell me that could be so damned important? Just an excuse, I figured, to stop by and get himself a little piece of tail. He hadn't been visiting me as often as he did before I started working at the office, but we kept in touch by phone. We had graduated from high school together, Joe and I, and he went on to study teaching. We dated often during our high school days, and had a lot of fond memories of the good times we'd shared. We had enjoyed many, fuck sessions in the back seat of Joe's Chevy sedan. There wasn't much money then to spend on motels, so we made good use of his car. Joe used to call it "the whore-house on wheels."
One thing about Joe Barnes, he had a one-track mind when it came to sex. He'd do nothing but fuck . . . nothing else. Any other form of sex seemed repugnant to him. Most of the girls liked a guy to go down on them, or occasionally bang them through the rear door. Not Joe. He stuck with the old-fashioned conventional method. And he liked an occasional blow-job, especially when I was the one doing the blowing. The size of his cock made up for any other shortcomings he might have possessed. He knew how to use it, and use it he did. When you were fucked by Joe Barnes, you knew you were fucked.
I finished brushing my hair and proceeded to straighten up the apartment, putting out of sight any remaining evidence of last night's party with Beth. I tidied up the bed and headed back to the kitchen. Chilly drafts were cooling the floor area around my ankles, so I laid a throw-rug across the bottom of the kitchen door leading into the outside hallway of the apartment. My living room door also came off the same hall entrance further down, and I'd always wondered why they put so damn many doors in these older buildings. At the moment it wasn't important. The swinging door between the kitchen and living room had been kept open in recent months, but by closing it now I could keep a little more concentrated heat in the kitchen. The little diamond-shaped window in the upper half of it would allow some additional light to pass between the two rooms.
I filled the kettle and put it over a low flame on the range. Coming in from the cold, Joe would appreciate some hot coffee.
Again I was wondering if Joe really did have something to tell me. If so, why didn't he tell me over the phone? Maybe it was something very private, and knowing I'm on a party line he preferred to tell me in person. As the curiosity kept building inside of me, I decided to put it completely out of my mind.
Last night's newspaper still lay folded on the table. Opening it, I glanced quickly over the front page. The bold headline reminded me about the continuing cold wave. An accompanying picture showed a snowplow clearing a snow-covered secondary road, the result of our most recent fourteen-inch snowfall. This winter we'd really been bombarded by the elements . . . the snow and wind and below-zero temperatures. Everybody'd had more than enough--including me, I didn't want to hear another damn word about it.
I turned to the page giving the daily horoscopes, and wondered if these things really worked. Running my finger down the column, I stopped at the paragraph headed "Taurus," which covered my birth date. "Born between April 21st and May 21st your tendency is toward persistence. You are straightforward and easy-going . . . " Sounds pretty much like me, I thought. For Saturday it said, "You Taurean people should enjoy a better-than-average day. You could be in for some surprises today. News of a benevolent nature is in the offing."
How in the hell can they tell this stuff from the stars and planets? Probably a lot of bullshit to fill in the pages. Somebody's making money out of it, I thought, so let them make their living the way they know best. I'd be the last person in the world to interfere. I guess that's my easy-going characteristic they mentioned. Maybe there is something to all that shit.
A fast glance through the paper revealed nothing of special interest to me. The news about violence was getting so commonplace it no longer rattled my timbers. A couple of whores were busted for soliciting down town and taken to jail. I wonder if they turned the heat down, to sixty-two degrees there. Maybe they could hold their hands over their hot pussies to keep them warm. The stock market dropped another eight points . . . Who the hell cares, I don't own any anyway. According to the obituary column a few more people cashed in. Nobody I knew. They didn't have to worry about their tax return this year.
The kettle started to whistle, so I turned the flame lower. The whirling sounds of a copter passing over the apartment broke the silence of the late morning. Probably the governor on his way to inspect the ice-clogged river, I concluded. The newscasters had reported he would fly into town today to make a survey in preparation for an anticipated flood in the event of a sudden thaw. Right now there was no inkling that such a thing was about to happen.
Time now seemed to be standing still. I sensed the four walls staring back at me as if to say, "Don't just sit there, stupid . . . do something!" It did seem like a waste. I should be doing some cleaning, but if Joe was due here soon there'd be no point in getting involved in some lengthy project till after he left.
The bottle of unopened brandy Carl had given me for Christmas sat on the shelf above the sink, and seemed to be inviting me over. What better time would there be to test out its capabilities to warm my faltering corpuscles? With time on my hands, if for no other reason, it would be nice to get acquainted with that lonesome little rascal. Without a brandy glass to my name, and out of necessity, I substituted a shot glass and filled it to the brim. The first experimental sip burned its way delightfully down the length of my throat passage. The ones that followed provided a more soothing effect, as I sat momentarily enjoying to the fullest my idle leisure.
I had just completed my second serving of the stuff when I heard the knock on the kitchen door. Joe's ruddy face showed the wear and tear of the biting cold that had nipped at him just coming from his car to the third floor. Walking up the stairs had left him a little short of breath. "I thought they'd have the elevator running today," he said, rubbing his hands together.
"It's broken down, Joe, they had to send away for a part," I said, opening the door a bit wider. I beckoned him in with a twist of my hand. A whisk of frigid air followed him in as I closed it hurriedly behind him.
"Goddammit," Joe growled as he removed his plaid jacket, "when's it ever going to warm up?"
I laughed. "The weatherman said next July if we're lucky. Maybe August."
Joe removed his hat and threw it on the chair by the door. "I should have taken that teaching job I was offered down South," he lamented, his six-foot-one body shivering a bit as he spoke.
"They're getting it down there almost as bad as we are," I chuckled, taking his jacket, "you're probably just as well off right here." .
"I guess you're right," he conceded, "let's not even dwell on the subject."
"You need something to warm you up . . . what'll it be?" I asked. Joe had eased his rugged frame down at the table and was eyeing the newly opened brandy bottle. "What have we here?" He asked, fixing his eyes on the label.
"You have a choice," I said. "Coffee or brandy."
"I can have coffee anytime," he said.
I took a wine glass from the cabinet and placed it on the table before him. Pouring generously into it from the bottle, I looked down at Joe. "This'll do the trick," I told him, "I've already had a couple of slugs and it has done wonders for me."
Joe looked up and gave me a reassuring glance. He couldn't resist the temptation to reach around and administer a little pat to my fanny.
"Thanks," I said. "I needed that."
By now the liquor had circulated through my veins and was beginning to show some definite results. The satisfying sensation of its warmth was creeping delightfully through my body.
Joe looked up at me. "Can I pour you another one?" he asked, "I hate like hell to drink alone."
I shoved my glass over to him. "Make it a big one," I said recklessly.
We began sipping our brandy, and my growing curiosity about Joe's visit was getting the better of me. I suddenly decided to ask him point blank.
"You had something to tell me?" I asked, waiting.
"Yeah," he said, shifting in his chair, "it's about your little niece.. . . "
"Joyce?" I asked.
"Joyce," Joe said, toying with his glass.
"Is she failing in some of her subjects, Joe?" I couldn't imagine why he'd come to me about Joyce instead of her parents.
"No, it's not that," he answered. "She's doing pretty well in class . . . " We both put our drinks down at the same time, and I was waiting for him to continue. He hesitated a bit before speaking. "I saw her fucking a boy from our class in the school library the other day."
"Joyce . . . fucking?" I couldn't quite comprehend what he was telling me.
"I haven't told anyone," he said, "and I thought being her aunt you might want, to offer your opinion." He lifted his glass again and took a healthy swig. "They don't know I saw them," Joe continued, "I had to go in for a research book . . . I didn't notice anyone else there at the time. I was at the end of a book rack when I glanced over and saw them in the corner behind the last rack going at it like crazy."
"They didn't see you watching?" I asked.
"Hell no," Joe said, "I just kept quiet and watched over the top of some books . . . a guy don't get to see something like that very often." A kind of horny smirk spread over his face as he emptied his glass.
"Charles and Ruth would kill her if they ever found out," I said.
"Kids are starting younger than they used to," Joe said, shifting again.
"Shit, Joe, she's only fifteen." I made myself sound like an extremely concerned aunt. Maybe it was the combination of the brandy getting to me and the erotic revelation about Joyce, but somehow a warm, creeping sensation was suddenly growing inside of me. That lovely little bitch, I thought, fucking already. It confirmed what I'd suspected right along, having followed the rapid development of her sexy little body . . . the full, rounded ass, the beautiful little tits . . . her sudden interest in the subject of sex and her probing questions to Ruth. And here I was discovering that she'd already gotten into it lock, stock, and barrel.
Joe reached over for the brandy bottle and gave us both a refill. His hand was unsteady as he poured. "The kid could get herself knocked up," he said, "do you think she knows about the pill and things?"
"I wouldn't know, Joe," I said, "but supposing we don't say anything to anybody about it. I'll wait for the proper time and have a talk with her."
I could tell that Joe's drinks were having a profound effect upon him now. I knew him like a book . . . the quivering hands, the uneasy fussing in his chair, the gradual flushing of his face. The familiar glint in his eyes told me automatically what I might expect. "Have you noticed how that niece of yours is developing?" he said with a sly grin.
"I think she's way ahead of her time," I said, trying to feign a little modesty. If Joe only knew what I was really thinking about that luscious little piece of flesh. I lifted my glass to my lips as the rising tide of passion began to race through my body. Joe was turning his own glass between his fidgeting fingers, displaying the approach of a growing excitement.
"Does talking about this do something to you?" He asked, his voice a bit slurred. As he spoke, he reached down and rubbed the growing bulge between his legs.
"What do you think, Joe?" I said. "After all, we're only human..
"Yeah." He said, grinning from ear to ear. "We've been through this sort of thing before . . . right?"
"Right!" I agreed. We stood up simultaneously, almost like we'd rehearsed it, and we were suddenly pawing and clutching at each other like a couple of raving maniacs. "It's been a while, baby," Joe gasped, "dammit have I needed you!" He pulled me into him, fast and hard.
I buried my burning tongue deep inside his mouth and withdrew it slowly, tantalizingly. "Joe," I said, "I want you to fuck me . . . right here in the kitchen." He didn't have to answer. Joe Barnes knew what to do with that magnificent cock I'd grown to idolize since the days of the Chevy sedan.
Things began happening fast and furiously. Joe's right hand had eased under the waist band of my sweater and reached its destination over my left tit. While his busy fingers circled its resilient circumference, occasionally slowing to squeeze and caress the erected nipple, his left hand worked impatiently to free the two buttons that held my slacks snugly to my hips. My own fingers had already unbuckled his belt and unzipped the front of his trousers, and I was now holding the bulk of his partially erected rod in the palm of my hand. It was like shaking hands with an old friend. I stroked it gently, running my busy fingers over the massive length of it, urging it to grow. As we stood frantically rubbing our passion-possessed bodies together, twisting and clawing and squirming, our flicking tongues exchanged torrid greetings inside our burning mouths, licking and sucking and lapping at each other like a couple of slithering lizards struggling for supremacy. Each fleeing second produced additional sensations within our scorching bodies as we discarded our last remaining garments.
What would normally seem entirely idiotic had now become a happening that would tolerate no postponement. Subfreezing temperatures outside, and chilling drafts whisking around our screaming naked bodies were now the furthest things from our minds. Having now reached the towering peak of emotional readiness, the time for immediate and definite action had arrived. Reaching over to the cabinet near the table, I yanked the drawer open and grabbed the first thing my hand could reach, coming up with a brand new linen tablecloth I'd gotten for special occasions. If this wasn't a special occasion I'd never see one. Unfolding it, I quickly reshaped it into a double thickness and spread it over the cold vinyl tile of the floor as Joe stood fondling his throbbing erection.
I lowered myself gracefully to the floor, remaining on my back as Joe dropped down and positioned himself between my outstretched legs. Our passions hadn't subsided in the process. My steaming wet pussy was now ready and waiting for that beautiful rigid offering. There was no possible reason for an exchange of words. We both knew what was needed, what had to be done, to rid us of the pent-up emotions shrieking inside our burning bodies that were screaming for release, for immediate satisfaction.
Joe moved in with the same skill and dexterity he'd always used. I lowered my fingers under me, spreading the wet cunt lips to render assistance, while he guided that magnificent fully erected hot rod expertly into the entrance of my flaming love-tunnel. It was a sight to behold, as I watched the huge, throbbing piece of meat disappear inch by inch into the waiting depths of my body. Each successive thrust became bolder, more determined, as Joe's repetitious pounding picked up the rhythm of my heaving torso. With the smooth silky texture of the linen cloth beneath my skin, I was suddenly reliving the experiences of the days in Joe's Chevy sedan . . . the same velvety feel of the back seat covers caressing my bare rotating ass . . . the same educated cock that had shoved me so ecstatically into the squeaking cushion.
Joe was panting heavily now, building up rapidly to the inevitable glorious moment that was almost upon us. It was a totally uninhibited pair of thrashing bodies twisting and squirming, deep into the throes of the greatest experience of human nature. The climax was brief and beautiful. A final furious thrust sent spasmodic streams of boiling semen splashing and spurting into the innermost depths of my steaming cunt. The ecstatic mutual release was simultaneous, the result of the art of perfect timing. The return from seventh heaven was totally satisfying. Choosing not to withdraw at the moment, Joe eased his relaxed body down atop my own, the heat of flesh against flesh providing a soothing warmth that offered concluding evidence of a thoroughly gratifying piece of ass. After a few relaxing moments of recuperation Joe lifted his head and looked down at me as if to say something. I beat him to the punch. "You haven't lost your magic touch, Joe," I said.
"Baby, you were beautiful," he sighed. "We should get together more often."
I smiled up at him. "Like, maybe at least once a week?" I asked.
"At least," he said, exhaling heavily.
The cold drafts sweeping over the floor were now becoming more noticeable as the goose-bumps on our exposed skin became clearly evident. "We'd better get some clothes on before we freeze," I said. Joe finally withdrew his limp organ and struggled to his feet. I handed him a tissue and he wiped away the final traces of our love juices from the pitiful-looking thing that now dangled helplessly between his legs. "Do you want to take a shower?" I asked him.
"Hell no," Joe said, shivering a bit, "It'd open up my pores and I'd catch pneumonia . . . I'll wait till I get home."
"I guess you're right," I agreed. We dressed quickly and I poured two more brandies. "One for the road," I told Joe, handing him his glass. We downed them much faster than the others. Joe put on his jacket and hat and headed for the door. "I'll call you next week," he said.
"Make it about Thursday," I told him. A blast of cold air entered the kitchen as he closed the door.
My second hot shower of the day re-warmed my body and added generally to my renewed sense of well-being. The water in the kettle had been boiling slowly away, so I refilled it and replaced it over the burner for future use. I recapped the half-killed bottle of brandy and put it back on the shelf above the sink. It had served its purpose well. Suddenly remembering my vitamin capsules, I took out the bottle, dumped a couple of them into my mouth, and washed them down with a generous gulp of water. The water tasted horrible following the brandy I'd consumed. I've always felt that vitamins were extremely essential in keeping up my much-needed vitality. After all, with the physical drain I've always experienced in my hectic life I found it necessary to replenish my energies continuously.
Joe's vivid descriptions of pretty little Joyce fucking that boy in the library were now bouncing around inside my head. Over and over I was picturing the scene, forming in my mind visions of tender young thighs mingling awkwardly in a quest for the inevitable pleasures of adolescent sex. So many questions seemed to pop up all at the same time. Who had made the first move, Joyce or . . . this boy? I suddenly realized I didn't even know who he was. I didn't even know the kid's name. Joe hadn't identified him. He did say it was one of her classmates. Was this their first time, or had they been into it right along? Why the library? They were taking a big chance there. Was Joyce's fuzzy little pussy so hot she'd share it in a public place that way? I was suddenly wishing frantically it had been me instead, of Joe, watching those hot little bastards doing their wonderful thing. I felt a little envy toward that boy, perhaps a little jealousy, knowing that the little brat had gotten to her tender little cunt before I had. If I'd been there in Joe's place, I'd have probably gotten myself into a heavy masturbation session with all that erotic stimulation available. I'd bet my bottom dollar that Joe had done the same thing . . . he did say there wasn't anyone else there at the time. I'll bet he dumped a big, hot load of jism all over the books in front of him.
I decided not to mention the incident to Ruth and Charles. It would only put their asses in an uproar and probably set off World War Three. If their daughter was already into the sex scene they'd find it out sooner or later. I'd be doing them a big favor by keeping quiet.
I spent the afternoon tidying up the apartment. A quick dusting of the furniture and a fast vacuuming job improved the general appearance of the place. I puttered around in search of little odds and ends to do, things I'd left unfinished that could wait for a time like this when I had free time on my hands. I replaced the broken pull-chain on the lamp by the sofa, tightened the screws on the cabinet door catches, scotch-taped the torn shelf paper that had been loose for so long.
A fast inventory of the refrigerator revealed an array of assorted leftovers that would serve to make up my evening meal. I'd have to lay in a fresh supply of groceries the first of the week, which reminded me how the price of coffee had soared to over three bucks a pound. The dirty bastards responsible for that should be hung up by the balls. Now they're blaming the shortage on the weather in South America. Politics. That's what it was-dirty, fucking politics. And it all ended up as always, coming out of the working person's pocket. It was enough to steam your gizzards and make you puke. I don't know why I get so damn worked-up, I thought, it doesn't help to get all riled up over something you have no control over anyway. Must be that persistent nature we Taurus people have . . . it said so in my horoscope today. Sometimes you just have to speak your piece. It also said I'm easy going. In that case I might as well forget the whole damn thing and live by the rules of Taurus.
I put away the vacuum cleaner and was closing the closet door when I suddenly remembered the movie projector. Beth had asked me to put a few drops of oil on the pulleys that had started to squeak the last time we used it. That old machine had seen a lot of mileage, but it had never failed to perform to our satisfaction. Beth and I had used it many times as a warm-up and a turn-on device. It had been an integral part of our equipment. Our fuck and suck film collection was probably one of the most complete to be found anywhere. And we added to it continuously when we could; in fact, Beth was supposed to pick up a couple of new flicks on her trip to Hartford. After seeing the same ones over and over .they began to lose their punch, and we occasionally needed fresh material to provide additional zest.
The oil can was almost empty, so I made a note of it on my growing shopping list. A few drops here and there made the projector purr like a kitten. I was tempted to run a few films to while away some time, but a glance at the clock revealed that news time was approaching. I decided I might as well find out what was going on in the outside world. I flicked on the TV switch and waited for the picture. A gorgeous chick with beautiful long legs demonstrating pantyhose leaped out at me from the tube and I wondered when she'd been fucked last. This was followed by a cat food commercial, and I couldn't help wondering why I was seeing so much pussy all of a sudden.
The news headlines told me nothing more than I already knew. The cold-wave would continue . . . the energy crisis was still critical . . . businesses would be closing early to save fuel . . . schools would remain open with reduced heat . . . the governor flew into town today . . . the threat of floods looms on the horizon . . . week end sports cancellations . . . same old shit. I flicked the set off and dropped into the softness of the big easy chair. This would be the first Saturday night in weeks that Beth and I wouldn't be together. I could see that I was in for a hell of a bleak evening.
CHAPTER THREE
Sunday mornings are invariably dreary, and this one was no different. I awakened early and found no particular excuse to remain in the sack. Yesterday's activities had left me drained, but the long night's rest provided me with a satisfying sense of regeneration. A quick shower contributed the finishing touches. I wriggled into my brown wool slack suit and slipped my beige chenille robe over it. A fast combing and brushing of my hair completed this phase of my pre-breakfast activity.
In the kitchen I filled the kettle and placed it on the stove, lighting the other burners temporarily to help take off the chill. I had a slight feeling of guilt as I suddenly remembered the repeated pleas for energy conservation. The kitchen warmed up quickly, and I knew at once I'd accomplished one good thing by closing the door between the two rooms.
The atmosphere was one of almost utter silence as I leisurely sipped my coffee and toyed with my bowl of cereal. As I lingered in the solitude of my domain I found myself dwelling on the advantages and disadvantages of living alone. It was nice at times to be quiet and undisturbed, to be left alone with your thoughts devoid of interruption. On the other hand, a person often needs to share the company and companionship of another human being. One reckless early teen-age marriage that went rapidly down the drain provided a big "no-no" for a repeat of the same. I had tried on several occasions to persuade Beth to come and live with me, but her own apartment was located so close to her present job she preferred not to make the move. I couldn't really blame her for that. She occasionally entertained men at her place, but, also a victim of an early marriage that didn't work, she was left bitter toward men in general. Neither of us objected to the other dating men when we felt the need for it, but the pact we made when our relationship began stated clearly and simply that there will be no other females in our love lives. I knew she had faithfully kept her end of the bargain. I'd almost bowed to the temptation on occasion, but in most cases I was able to avoid the confrontations. There are times, however, when some senses will go out of control, and the mind fails to dictate what the body should do. Fortunately or unfortunately, as the case may be, I happened to be one of those persons.
My breakfast wasn't particularly gratifying. It was something to do as part of a routine. I sauntered around the kitchen doing only the little odds and ends that seemed absolutely necessary. I looked down at the cold floor and remembered Joe Barnes's bare ass working up and down over me like it was only yesterday. Then I remembered . . . it was yesterday. How could I have forgotten? I knew it was only my screwed-up mind playing silly tricks on me. The clock was now easing around to the noon-time position, which meant nothing in particular to me. Below my window a siren screamed, the flashing red light disappearing behind the far building on the block. Another victim of the icy winter streets. At least the noise broke the silence of a depressing day.
I went into the living room and flicked on the TV, rotating the channel-selector in search of something that might be even a little bit interesting. There was the usual assortment of Sunday panel shows, political forums, travelogues, and a rerun of "I Love Lucy" that I'd seen at least a few times before. I stopped at channel three, where a national golf tournament was in progress. It was coming from southern California and the sunshine and green grass and palm trees looked so good to me I left it on. It actually seemed to have a warming effect and it helped brighten up the afternoon.
Without anything special to excite it, my pussy was behaving like a saint. I figured the temporary rest would do it good. I wanted to keep it that way until Beth got back. Then it would get a real workout. Even thinking about her sent crazy little chills up and down my spine. It seemed like such a long time since she had gone. She had expected to leave Hartford in time to get home that night. There hadn't been any more snow, so there shouldn't be any big driving problems. Her brother should be staying on there, so she'd be driving back alone. Knowing Beth, I was sure she'd make it all right.
The golf tournament didn't exactly have me on the edge of my chair. I'd seen faster movement in a funeral procession. I brought out the deck of cards and started a boring game of solitaire on the coffee table in front of the sofa. About five minutes into the game a funny little thought struck me all of a sudden. Here I am, flaying with myself again. Only it's not as much fun as the other way. I wiped the silly smile from my face. There was nobody around to see it anyway.
I was lighting a cigarette when the phone rang. It was a hell of a good sound. It not only broke the monotony of the afternoon, but also confirmed the fact that there must be real live human beings in the outside world.
"Hello.. . " I said casually into the phone.
"Hi, doll," Beth said from the other end.
"Beth? Where are you, darling?" Her voice was like a gift from heaven.
"I left early, honey, I don't want to be too late getting back. Right now I'm at a rest stop outside of New Britain. I've got about two hours of driving ahead of me."
"Have you eaten?" I asked quickly.
"Just a light lunch before I left," Beth said, "but I'll be famished by the time I get home . . . could you fix up something warm if I stop off there first?"
"Of course I can, hon. It'll probably be something out of cans, but I'll come up with something," I assured her. "I'll have it ready when you get here."
"You're a sweetheart, Greta," Beth said happily. "I should be there sometime around six."
"I've missed you, Beth," I told her. "It's been like a morgue around here today."
"Likewise, honey," Beth said. "I'll be so damned glad to get back."
"Please be careful driving," I warned her.
"That I will," Beth promised. "See you when I get there." This had been the most refreshing few minutes of my day.
I scrounged through the food cupboard for something suitable for her dinner. It should be something warm and nourishing, I thought. I'd almost forgotten about the can of Swedish meat balls I'd gotten the last time I shopped. It would take care of the meat portion of the meal. I could open a canned vegetable and throw in some potatoes . . . no problem. I began to busy myself in preparation for Beth's arrival. I was suddenly feeling the warm glow of anticipation again.
I kept the food warm over a low flame on the burners. The table was set, and there was boiling water ready for the instant coffee. I had a slight feeling of apprehension when six o'clock arrived and Beth hadn't gotten in yet. This was alleviated, however, when I heard her key in the door about twenty minutes later.
The greetings we exchanged would have been no more affectionate had she been gone a month or more. "I'm glad you made it safely," I said, helping her off with her coat. She put her purse on the chair and tossed a little package onto the end table. "No problems at all, honey," Beth said as she removed her white tassel-cap and shook her head to allow her long silken hair to fall into place over her shoulders. She looked toward the kitchen, her bright brown eyes sparkling like diamonds in the light.
"Oh-h-h, what smells so good?" She said, sniffing the aromas that were drifting in beneath the kitchen door. "I'm simply starving."
"You'll see, hon," I told her, "everything's ready and waiting."
"You're a doll, Greta," Beth said cheerfully, "I can't thank you enough."
"We'll work out something," I returned quickly, giving her a sly little wink. She responded with a generous smile. She followed me into the kitchen, the swinging door springing closed behind us.
Beth ate heartily and seemed to enjoy every bite she consumed. We lingered over the meal, talking of Beth's trip to Hartford, her parents, and things in general. Beth had cleaned up her plate and was finishing her coffee. "Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" She asked casually.
"Not really," I said, "it was just plain Dullsville . . . " I suddenly remembered Joe's visit. "Oh yes, Joe Barnes dropped in yesterday."
"Anything special?" She asked.
"Just a friendly visit," I said. I didn't mention the incident about Joyce.
"Did you get screwed?" Beth knew I'd been banging Joe for years. She really didn't need my answer.
"What do you think?" I said, displaying a wide smile.
"Same old Joe," Beth laughed, "Is he as good as ever?"
"Same old Joe," I agreed, "one of the best."
I tapped a cigarette from my pack and reached it over to Beth. Taking one myself, we lit up and enjoyed a brief moment of silence, each of us waiting for the other to start a new line of conversation. Beth suddenly broke the spell. "I got the new flicks," she said, "two of them."
"Great!" I said quickly. "I'm dying to see them."
"They're supposed to be real turn-ons," Beth said, shifting in her chair, "I'm anxious to see them myself."
"I oiled the projector," I told her.
"That settles it," Beth said at once, "we'll run them as soon as we finish with the dishes."
"The hell with the dishes . . . I'll do them later," I said, pushing away from the table.
I could tell from her actions that Beth was feeling the same things I was feeling. I could almost read her mind, and I know she was reading mine. As she got up we both choked out our smokes. I looked at her for a few seconds. "Do you feel up to a little party?" I asked, anticipating her positive answer.
"Why do you think I hurried home?" She said, almost purring like a kitten. She looked none the worse after her long, tiring drive.
"God, have I needed you, Greta," Beth gasped, coming closer to me, breathing uneasily now.
"No more than I've needed you, hon . . . " I managed to say. Our lips came together as we clamped into a torrid embrace, setting off an onslaught of roving hands and squirming bodies, while our craving tongues searched out each other inside our burning mouths. It was a long, lingering embrace, a radiant preview of better things to follow. We broke away from each other momentarily. "Let's save it for the main event," I said to Beth, exhaling heavily.
She followed me into the living room, having been summoned by the tantalizing little come-on motion from my forefinger. I grabbed the projector up and plugged it into the receptacle near the sofa while Beth opened the little package she'd thrown on the end table as she came in. Setting the projector in the center of the coffee table in front of the sofa, I moved it out, allowing for additional leg room. The blank expanse of the off-white colored wall on the opposite side of the room was devoid of pictures, so I -decided not to bring out the viewing screen. It would also provide space for a much larger image. It was already dark outside, but Beth still closed the drapes to provide total privacy while I threaded the first film into the machine. "This one's a lesbian film," I said as Beth eased on to the sofa beside me.
"Let's do something different this time . . . " Beth said quickly, as I reached for the little switch on the projector.
"Like what?" I asked curiously. "Since we haven't seen this before," she said, "it would be fun to do everything they do in the film . . . just for variety, I mean . . . "
"Why not?" I said, "It might be very interesting." Beth knew I was always ready to try anything that would have some sort of kooky kicks connected with it.
I snapped the little switch on and we sat back in the sofa, our eyes glued to the far wall. In bright colors the title flashed across the viewing area: "FEMALE FANTASIES." As the picture faded in, two luscious girls, fully dressed, sat side by side on chairs. One was a gorgeous redhead with long flowing hair, the other a blonde with an attractive ponytail and long, sweeping lashes. Even fully clothed, it was plainly evident that their curvaceous bodies were constructed like the proverbial brick shithouse, their long shapely legs completing the delicious total picture.
"Real living dolls . . . " I said, looking over at Beth.
"Beautiful!" she said, not moving a muscle. "Let's watch.. . "
The girls seemed to ignore each other, not realizing the other was there as their faces developed dreamy expressions while they began running their hands over their bodies caressing and teasing as they went along.
"Let's go . . . " Beth said, "it's time to start . . . " Her long delicate fingers began exploring her body, skimming over the smoothness of her sweater, down along the sides of her gray jersey slacks, rubbing and caressing all the way. My hands were following the same paths over my own body, stirring up tingling sensations wherever they happened to pass. I was secretly hoping the girls would soon get rid of their clothes and pay attention to each other. I wanted desperately to get my hands on Beth, but if we were following the sequence of the movie, I'd have to wait my turn. Beth was really into it now, her face revealing that she needed no tutoring from an outside source. I had no trouble duplicating the movements.
Simultaneously the girls began to disrobe, the slow, deliberate maneuvers becoming more erotic as each disappearing garment revealed additional bare flesh, accenting the effectiveness of the performance. Beth and I continued to simulate their actions, as our own pieces of clothing dropped carelessly to the floor around us. Stark naked now, the four of us engaged in our busy pastime, becoming caught up in our growing passions. It was a lurid scene of four totally uninhibited individuals deliriously engaged in their own private orgy. Sometimes it was difficult to keep up the pace of the girls in the movie, and I wished there were a way to slow down the speed of the projector.
As the girls tediously massaged their beautiful breasts and rubbed their flaming cunts, they suddenly began to notice each other, displaying curious expressions of surprise. This we really didn't have to duplicate. Beth and I were fully aware of each other's presence there. As we looked at one another the sight of our hands working over our naked, burning flesh added fuel to our fiery passions, each of us in wild anticipation of the approaching moment when we could combine our lusts on, a one-to-one basis as we'd done so many times before. It was distracting to watch the picture and still offer the required attention to the real live part of the show. Like watching a tennis match, our eyes darted alternately from the wall to ourselves, not allowing the concentration to occur where it was most needed. The sudden realization that the movie was no longer required came to us simultaneously. "Turn it off!" Beth gasped, shifting in excitement. "We don't need it . . . " I slid around and fumbled with the switch. "Of course we don't . . . " I said as the machine groaned slowly to a stop.
Beth drew me into the throbbing nakedness of her body, rubbing, caressing, searching out the sensitive areas that would raise our blended passions to unlimited heights. Intermingling breasts kneaded soft and warm against each other, nipple against nipple, as our mouths clamped together, the burning, probing tongues curling one around the other in an urgent quest of indefinable pleasures. Spoken words were not needed now. The increasing sensations of lust were speaking for themselves as the voice of torrid sex possessed our thrashing, simmering bodies.
Beth withdrew her talented tongue and circled my quivering lips, slithering across and around them, lovingly, expertly. The juices were flowing freely inside my other lips now, attesting to the thoroughness with which she was doing her job. My wandering hands caressed the beautiful mounds of her tits, her smooth, rounded buttocks, her soft, white thighs, searching for a definite destination . . . a place bearing greater significance. I attained that goal with little hesitation. As my overanxious fingers brushed teasingly to and fro over the soft mound of hair between her legs, her own busy fingers found my pleading pussy, working their magic within the moistened folds of my labia. The quiet squishing sounds and delicate sweet aromas of female sex contributed deliriously to our mounting passions.
Beth had now abandoned her position at my sensual mouth and was working her way down along my neck, licking and kissing and sucking, trying to cover every square inch of my flaming flesh. Without interrupting her operations, she raised a finger to signal me that she was now taking over the show. It left me no choice but to settle back and absorb the delights of her special brand of artistry. As I rested my head back on the sofa, Beth continued her glorious journey over my burning body, her long, soft tresses brushing recklessly over the tender skin with each movement of her busy head. Every motion sent new chills soaring through my searing veins. She shifted now, rendering special service to my hardened nipples, drawing them carefully between her appetizing lips, tonguing, sucking, thoroughly enjoying them. I wanted so badly to reciprocate, to compensate her for a magnificent performance, but
I knew my turn would come. I was only following the rules. Her moist, hot tongue flicked its way across my arching belly, stopping to savor the little indentation on the way. Tiny trails of shiny saliva remained to mark the paths she'd followed. Almost without missing a beat, she slid to the floor in front of me. Instinctively I opened my legs, spreading them wide for the final phase of her performance. Beth's wide brown eyes were flashing like glittering jewels as she moved in, face-to-face with my pink, steaming cunt. "Do it, baby doll . . . " I pleaded, "suck it--lick it.. . eat it out.. . "
She clamped her mouth over it like a starved animal, pushing her hands under my heaving ass, pulling me into her. The heat of her soft lips against my smoldering cunt was unbearable. Her overly ambitious tongue began its vicious attack on my screaming vagina, darting in and out, lapping furiously over the swollen lips, keeping pace with my frantic gyrations. The increasingly rapid slurping sounds combined with the ecstatic quivering in my lust-filled body set off the final flare. The time was now . . . rrrright NOW! My spontaneous whimpering, my excited muffled utterances, were my final urgent signal to Beth. "GO . . . GO . . . GO . . . SUCK ME, HONEY . . . ALL THE WAYYYYY . . . " She made Tier final desperate effort, thrusting herself into me, forming a suction that slowly devoured every drop of love-fluid I was releasing to her.
She remained steadfastly at her post, faithfully savoring the totality of the act, absorbing the deliciously delicate results until our last breath of passion had subsided.
The recuperation period was brief and completely satisfying. I reached down to Beth, her head now resting comfortably over my thighs, and ran my fingers through her long, lustrous hair, allowing the folds to spring back and fall over her soft shoulders. I cupped her beautiful face within my hands, lifting it carefully to look into the pair of limpid brown eyes that revealed their flood of sheer passion. "You're the absolute greatest, darling!" I whispered slowly, meaning every word of it. Her body began to shake slightly, evidence of the rekindled fires flaring up inside of her again., But I needed no reminder to tell me that our love-fest was only partially completed. It was time to treat Beth to my own special menu of assorted talents.
The anticipation was building almost uncontrollably inside my body. I released my hands from her face. "Now it's YOUR turn to dream," I said softly, as I helped her to her feet. We embraced again, exchanging wet, lingering kisses. "I want you to be extra comfortable," I said, taking her hand, "we'll use the bed." We entered the bedroom and closed the door behind us.
Beth slid onto the bed and rolled over on her back, her arms outstretched, her gorgeous white body relaxed. She was breathing heavily as I watched her two rose-tipped mounds of flesh heaving in anticipation of what was about to follow. "Take me, darling," she managed to say, "I'm all yours." I eased over beside her, my eyes drinking in the smoothness of her flesh. "I'm going to make you see the angels . . . " I whispered, moving in closely.
Beth's earlobes were soft and pliable under the tender caresses of my hot, wet tongue. I started there, initiating a slow, sensual warm-up, gently biting the fragile flesh, sucking it into the burning interior of my mouth, alternating from one to the other. There was nothing-absolutely nothing I wanted to forget or leave undone along the way. Beth deserved the very best, and I intended to see that she got it. Determination!
I moved lower, flicking my way now up and down the sides of her milky smooth neck, my warm saliva mixing with the lingering scent of the delicate perfume she'd dabbed on earlier in the day. The taste was slightly acrid, but not unpleasant. Beth was reacting beautifully, her body readily absorbing the sensations I was sending through her most responsive nerve centers.
As she opened her full luscious lips to expel a sigh of passion, I closed my own mouth over them, spiraling my tongue madly over and around them, skimming the pearly white teeth, thrusting hungrily inside to mingle momentarily with her own searching tongue. The heat of my body was rapidly settling between my legs, scorching within my cunt. I struggled hard to ignore it for the time being, not wanting to break up the continuity of my act. Since Beth had clamped her gorgeous legs around me, the area was inaccessible anyway, which eased the temporary situation. Glued together in our rapturous throes of ecstasy, we continued to thrash about wildly, setting off a series of minor crises in Beth's sex-crazed body. Her violent reactions told me I was accomplishing my purpose satisfactorily. She released herself from me now, again turning over on her back, allowing me to continue my avid presentation.
The two beautiful mounds of her breasts seemed to be pleading for attention, the rose nipples now fully erected, the soft clear flesh, pure and flawless, begging to be touched. Not large, not small, but perfect for my purpose. I lowered my steaming mouth carefully over the one nearest me, pulling my lips back up slowly, closing them firmly over the hard nipple as I reached the top, releasing it with a slight popping sound. Returning immediately, I repeated the operation, this time beginning with the very tip and circling both clockwise and counterclockwise, tonguing madly as I lowered onto it, retracting slowly. It was driving Beth mad as I continued to alternate between the resilient sensitive peaks, leaving a trail of dampness along the route. Again I was fighting to control my own screaming passions as my pulsating pussy kept demanding some sort of physical contact. Beth hadn't lowered her hands to this area of my body. Of course, she wasn't supposed to . . . I was the one who was now running the show . . . taking complete command.
My ambitious fingers played over her squirming body, administering loving, teasing caresses as they skirted delightfully over the lower extremities, tantalizing and stroking as they moved impetuously along. The heat of my breath accompanied my darting tongue, providing a little something extra along the sensitive flesh, adding more fuel to the fires of lust. Beth was writhing almost out of control now, rolling and thrashing, as the bed shaked heavily beneath us. It was restricting my operations as I tried desperately to prolong the gratification, to give her every precious second of pleasure I could offer. Instinctively I knew the big moment was closing in . . . fast and furiously. Her head now flung uncontrollably from side to side, her long tresses whipping relentlessly over her face with every movement, her glassy eyes now raised ecstatically into the upper lids. "DO IT!" she begged, "DO IT NOWWWWW . . . RRRRRRIGHT NOWWWW . . . suck my cunt . . . get down there . . . NOWWWWWW!" She clutched at my hair like a raging tiger, urging me on. I was ready. Oh, how I was ready! I stopped everything else I'd been doing. Nothing else held any importance now. The preliminaries were over. Sliding down to the foot of the bed, I positioned myself between her outstretched legs.
It was a thing of beauty, almost indescribable, in the sense that hers was unique, truly different from the average delectable cunt. The silky light-brown hair surrounding it seemed to be styled to perfection, each wavy strand lying flawlessly in place against the next, forming a lustrous frame that complimented the beautiful picture it encompassed. The very special shade of pink highlighting the delicate lips of the labia, now glistening with the moistures of lust, was something to behold. A true symbol of femininity, this focal point of passion. In a word . . . impeccable.
I moved in slowly, unhurriedly, determined to give her the very best I could offer. This wasn't the first time with Beth, but somehow it seemed so very special. She was entitled to my most stellar performance. Struggling to calm her quivering lower body, she opened the milky-white thighs further to allow me complete access to the delectable feast that awaited me. As the fires continued to flare within my own smoldering body, my hot, flicking tongue rapidly found its way to its appointed destination. It was burning flesh against burning flesh as my craving mouth made hasty contact with her torrid cavern of lust. Long, slow, uninterrupted tongue-strokes produced new waves of thrills as the wetness of the scorching love-box flowed generously over and around my burning lips, providing the required lubrication that would assure a smooth and thorough treatment. Struggling hard to allow me the necessary freedom to continue, Beth thrashed about wildly above me, fighting for every mounting breath, seemingly trying to delay as long as possible the rapidly approaching climax.
Her growing passions were becoming increasingly contagious, and now my own craving cunt, releasing its stream of molten fluids, was demanding immediate physical attention. Releasing my hand from beneath her bouncing buttocks, I dropped it between my legs, thrusting one, then two, then three eager fingers deep inside my slippery, pleading pussy. They worked busily as I entered the new phase of treatment on Beth.
Having covered every existing part of her precious center of lust in the initial offering, it was time to give special priority to the now-rigid piece of flesh at the very top, which seemed to be pleading desperately for my attention. Engulfing the throbbing clit lovingly between my lips and drawing it gently into them, it set off a spasm that sent Beth soaring deliriously to cloud nine. I clung faithfully to it, licking it, teasing it, sucking it into me, refusing to release my hold until I could be sure she had received every morsel of sensation I was administering. The result was inevitable.
Timing my own rapid strokes to coincide with her frantic thrusts against my busy mouth, we were on the threshold of the magic door to Paradise. Two thrashing bodies, twisting, turning, clinging, screaming out for release! Refusing to relinquish my connection, I eased upward along with the final arching of her heaving, passion-wracked torso, sharing this joyful, enchanting moment. "THIS IS IT!" she screamed wildly, "GOD HONEY, KEEP IT GOING . . . DON'T STOP . . . PLEEEEEEASE DON'T STOP!" I obeyed loyally, continuing through each waning contraction as the slowing pace of my fingers followed through to the final, satisfying denouement. Only then did I abandon my position from her naked, pulsating body.
The recovery period was nearly as satisfying as the encounter itself. Exhausted and spent from the ecstatic experience of our resplendent love-making, Beth and I found complete solace in the comfort of each other's arms, having covered our naked bodies against the growing chill of the bedroom. We talked briefly, exchanging mutual expressions of gratitude. The movie projector which we'd abandoned in the living room had no special significance now. The partly shown film could be viewed later, at some appropriate time. We'd gotten along nicely without it. Already, Beth had fallen off to sleep, her long silken hair, disheveled and in complete disarray, forming a rugged frame around the delicate features of her face. She looked so beautiful, so utterly peaceful now. I wouldn't awake her till morning . . . she could leave early and still get back to her apartment in time to dress for work.
I set the alarm to go off a half-hour sooner than usual. We could both take a hot shower in the morning. I reached over and snapped off the light.
CHAPTER FOUR
As five o'clock on Monday afternoon rolled around I was glad to get out of the office and head home to the apartment. A fast stop at the supermarket on the way replenished my supply of groceries, which had gotten dangerously low. I was careful to get only the necessities, remembering they'd have to be trudged up three long flights of stairs when I arrived home. The elevator still hadn't been repaired, the adverse weather having delayed the arrival of the special gear that had to be ordered from the manufacturing company. Gus, the apartment custodian, had already apologized to the tenants for the inconvenience, but everyone knew he wasn't to blame. We were thankful that the heating system had been kept in operating condition, even though it wasn't permitted to be run at full capacity. It all goes along with the hardships of winter, and people have learned to live with such things over the years.
The long haul up the stairs with two heavy-food bags left me winded and the apartment-door was a welcome sight. Having put away most of the things I'd brought home, I prepared a quick meal to top off my rather active day at the office. The barbeque sandwich and hot soup along with the steaming coffee added a satisfying contribution to my feeling of warmth. With the swinging door kept closed between the kitchen and living room, it allowed the heat from the range burners to concentrate on heating the kitchen, making it more comfortable. Even at sixty-two degrees, the temperature in the living room had remained bearable.
I'd just cleared the table and was glancing over the front page of the paper when I heard the knock at the living room door.
"Hi, Aunt Greta . . . may we come in?"
"Joyce! Well, what a surprise.. . "
"Aunt Greta, this is Ronnie," Joyce said, nodding toward the young boy beside her.
"Hi Ronnie," I said, closing the door behind them, "you two look like you're frozen . . . "
"The school bus broke down a block up the street," Joyce said, shivering vigorously, "I'm glad you live this close."
The two of them placed their books on the end table and removed their heavy coats.
"You two look like you could use something to warm you up . . . how about some hot chocolate?"
"Super!" Joyce said. Ronnie nodded his approval, flashing a wide smile.
"May I use the phone, Aunt Greta? I'll have to call home and tell them what happened."
"Be my guest, honey. It's best that you call right away . . . they'll be worried that you're late."
Ronnie settled himself on the sofa while Joyce made her call. I went into the kitchen and prepared two cups of hot chocolate. I was nudging my way through the swinging door, a cup in each hand, as Joyce called to me, still holding the phone in her hand. "Aunt Greta, daddy's working late tonight and can't come after us.. . could you possibly.. . ? "
"Of course I will, honey. Tell Ruth I'll see that you and Ronnie get home all right."
Ronnie hadn't said much since he arrived, so I decided to break the tension and start him talking. I handed him the cup of chocolate, setting Joyce's cup on the coffee table. "Where do you live, Ronnie?"
"Over in Eastmont," he said quietly, "near the new high school."
"Oh, then you're close to the municipal building," I said.
"A block away," he said, sipping his chocolate slowly. He was an extremely handsome boy with dark wavy hair, a square jaw, and deep, studious eyes. He looked like the type who'd be almost sure to make the football team when he reached college.
"That's a nice section over there," I remarked.
"I like it," he volunteered.
Joyce finished talking to her mother and hung up the phone, and then returned to join us. "Mother said I can stay as long as I want," she said exuberantly, bouncing happily as she ambled across the floor.
"And how about Ronnie?" I asked.
"He can give his parents a call. Is it all right with you if we stay, Aunt Greta?"
"It's fine with me," I said.
Ronnie went to the phone, called his parents, then returned to the sofa.
Joyce picked up her cup of chocolate, which had started to cool. "Ronnie and I are in the same class in school, so we can do our homework together tonight," she said.
"There's a lot of it to do," Ronnie added, "we have a test tomorrow."
"Then you'd better finish that chocolate and get busy," I told them, "you'd better pass it."
Joyce flopped down beside Ronnie on the sofa and displayed her impish smile. "Ronnie's my boyfriend . . . did you know that?"
"No I didn't," I said. Ronnie was showing a little self-conscious grin of his own.
The statement suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. Boyfriend . . . same class in school! The library! This is the boy who's been fucking Joyce! This is the same horny kid Joe Barnes was talking about!
I found myself looking at these two tight-jeaned kids in a little different light. Here they were . . . right in my own home, probably with sex on their horny young minds this very damn minute. Could they have planned this whole thing? The bus story . . . the arrangements to come here and stay late. Hardly. My mind was running away with me. I guess it was the sudden revelation that this was the boy who Joyce had been banging. In my own private way, I really couldn't blame Joyce. She sure as hell had good taste. This boy was a good-looker. If I were Joyce's age I'd probably want to fuck him too. In fact, even now . . . I found my mind running far ahead of me again.
You certainly couldn't blame Ronnie for his desire for Joyce either. The radiant beauty of her face . . . the devil-may-care attitudes she displayed . . . the gracefully maturing breasts . . . the beautiful rounded ass that filled out her jeans so very adequately. Inside, I was suddenly fighting a battle with myself, not being able to determine whether it was Ronnie or Joyce I was so passionately jealous of. The thing that seemed foremost in my tortured mind at the moment was the realization of the presence of these two young and tender nubile bodies, with a whole lifetime of sexual pleasures ahead of them.
My spur-of-the-moment decision came as a result of some hasty conclusions. Here they were, these two little bastards with sex on their minds, right here in my own living room. If they were somehow to be left to themselves, alone, they'd be into it within a matter of minutes. That I would give a week's salary to observe. Joe Barnes had watched them in the library last week . . . why not me, right here in my own place? He already had one up on me, and of that I was jealous.
My plan just might work, but I'd never know unless I gave it a try. I snapped the light on beside the sofa, since it was growing dark now outside. The kitchen was still dark, and that's just the way I wanted it. The kids were emptying their cups when I went to the closet and took out my coat.
"If I'm going to drive you kids home tonight I'll need gas in my car . . . I forgot to get it on my way home, and they'll be closed by then."
"Oh," Joyce said.
"Will you be all right till I get back?" I asked, "I may be a while . . . I should stop and pick up some things at the store."
"We'll be fine," Joyce said at once. I caught the little smile she tossed to Ronnie, but pretended not to notice it.
I headed toward the door. "Now study hard, you two," I said, looking back, "I want you to pass that test tomorrow."
"We will," Ronnie said reassuringly.
"Be careful driving," Joyce said, as I started out the door.
The living room door was just about fifteen feet down the outside hall to the kitchen door. I moved quietly down the hall and unlocked the kitchen door, being careful, that the key wouldn't make the usual clicking sound. Tiptoeing silently across the kitchen floor, I stopped behind the swinging door between the rooms, suddenly feeling a certain gladness that I'd closed it during the cold weather. The small, diamond-shaped window in the upper half was at a perfect level with my eyes, providing the ideal location for my observation. With the kitchen darkened, I wouldn't be seen from the living room. In case they decided to come into the kitchen for some reason, I could slip quickly into the closet next to me. Before leaving, I'd made it a point to turn the three-way lamp at the sofa to its highest brilliancy, providing the best possible illumination. It was all part of my plan and it paid off handsomely. A spotlight over the sofa couldn't have been more effective.
Already, they were wrapped in each other's arms, their agile little bodies rolling and twisting in anticipation of better things to follow. Ronnie's mouth was clamped rigidly to Joyce's, as his hands lowered and began roving about her legs. Her own right hand began circling the area around his stomach. From the angle of his body I could see the bulge growing progressively larger at the front of his jeans. My plan was beginning to pay off, as I felt a glow of satisfaction growing within me, and my passions beginning to rise. I was desperately hoping for a glimpse of Ronnie's hardening tool, wondering about the size of it. But even greater was my insatiable desire to take in the tender beauty of Joyce's precious body . . . the inviting little breasts . . . the delectable little cunt nestled so meticulously between her soft thighs. They shifted a little now with Ronnie partially blocking my view of Joyce. I assumed it would be a temporary situation, and it was, for now they separated and Joyce eased herself to the edge of the sofa and began fumbling with the snaps of her jeans. Ronnie began rubbing his hands to and fro over the enlarged bulge that had increased more rapidly, urging on a more rigid erection. I couldn't resist the temptation to lower my hand to my own moistening pussy, as I watched Joyce struggle and finally remove the jeans that had hugged her gorgeous little round ass. Her pale-green panties clung firmly around her pubic area, but I, knew they wouldn't be there for long.
They returned again to their kissing, this time adding the French touch to heighten their gradually increasing pleasures. Their hot, searching tongues probed each other's lips, occasionally finding their way inside their burning mouths. I couldn't help but wonder if they'd discovered this technique out of pure instinct, or whether they might have found a sex book displaying and explaining the process. Regardless, it was obvious that they had learned their lessons well.
Ronnie's hand suddenly and expertly raised her tan wool blouse, folding it close to her neck area to hold it in place. Like a pro, he unfastened the snaps of her tiny bra and pulled it away from her, revealing to me the most luscious and inviting little pair of tits I'd seen in ages. God, they were beautiful and tempting! I found myself subconsciously running my wet tongue over my own lips at the magnificent sight of them. It was almost more than I could bear as I watched Ronnie ease over and take one of them slowly into his mouth, tonguing and licking at it so carefully and lovingly. His hand was working its way down into the waist band of her panties, as Joyce reached over and slowly lowered his zipper. My heart was now chugging like a pounding jack-hammer as I watched her release his young, throbbing cock from its enclosure, revealing it in all its magnificent glory. For a kid of his age, Ronnie was in possession of the most beautiful organ I'd had the pleasure of viewing for as long a time as I could remember. This young virgin cock was truly a sight to behold. Not only did it pass every test in the size department, it emerged as a perfect example of the representative male organ, seemingly produced from a carefully-constructed mold. The shiny, enlarged glans appeared as a regal spear-head alternately protruding and disappearing beneath Joyce's dainty circling fingers, as she stroked and fondled it in preparation for the event to follow.
My plan was working beautifully, and it gave me a growing sense of accomplishment. With my own passions rapidly approaching new peaks, the voyeuristic activity was sending torrid waves" of pleasure throughout my quivering body. My fingers now working fervently between my legs, I began fantasying, -imagining it as Margie Hanley's pleading cunt, which doubled the masturbatory joys I was receiving.
With the fires now raging at full heat, I was anxiously awaiting the one high point that was yet to come. This mania I'd been nurturing since Joyce had come into puberty . . . this uncontrollable urging desire to get my first glimpse of that young, tender, loving, devourable cunt. There had been all the others during my lifetime, and more recently Beth, and today Margie, but somehow this one seemed so very, very special. There was no possible way I could ever explain this overwhelming phenomenon. It Was there and I fully intended to make the most of it.
I didn't have long to wait. With the expertise of a veteran cocksman Ronnie urged Joyce to the edge of the sofa, using both hands to work her out of the flimsy panties. During the process my view was momentarily obstructed, but as he positioned her at the end of the sofa in preparation for the grand entry. I was provided with my long-awaited fulfillment, as my eyes feasted on the most utterly delicious morsel of tender cunt I'd seen in my life. My angle of observation was perfect, but brief, as Ronnie moved in and skillfully completed the insertion. The few seconds, however, that were made available to me permitted the finality of my most important decision, the one that had been uppermost in my mind for so long. I would have Joyce at any cost. The time, the place, the situation were inconsequential now that my mind was finally made up. I only knew that I had to have her, even if it took weeks of planning to accomplish the feat.
They were well into it now, enmeshed in the throes of teen-age sexual enchantment as the two writhing young bodies lashed and heaved and absorbed every possible sensation of their performance. Right now, I was feeling jealous pangs of resentment toward Ronnie, wanting to condemn him for his intrusion into my private dream, for monopolizing the property that was soon to be mine.
The sight of the two sex-obsessed bodies struggling for ultimate release served only to heighten my screaming passions. My fingers, now working madly within the folds of my sopping pussy, stroking relentlessly over my throbbing clit, provided the incentive to set off the final dynamic explosion within me. This was without a doubt one of my most dramatic climaxes. It has been said that the mind is one of the most vital sexual organs, and I'm sure I'd just proven it true. The combination of the previously accumulated thoughts and the torrid sights I'd been witnessing provided my brain with the necessary stimulus to bring about the culmination of a million sexual dreams within one fantastic accomplishment. Masterpieces of jolting, spasmodic sensations pelted my physical body in a frantic attempt to release me from every possible lingering fragment of anxiety. It was totally complete, thoroughly conclusive, undeniably satisfying. It was mind over matter as the series of diminishing spasms died gradually away, returning me to a semblance of normalcy. Through the glass in the door I could see that the activities there had also arrived at a completion, as I watched Ronnie ease back, releasing the length of his beautiful shrinking penis from the depths of Joyce's tender young body. Their faces both carried a smile of ecstatic satisfaction as they lay spent in each other's arms. I decided to give them a little time before returning to the room.
I put myself back together and lingered in the kitchen, stalling for time. Five, maybe ten minutes had passed when I glanced through the window in the door, noticing that the kids had gotten themselves organized. Joyce had gotten dressed again, Ronnie's jeans were now closed, and they'd brought their books to the coffee table, having opened them as if nothing had happened. Joyce was combing her ruffled hair to eliminate any evidence of their sexual tomfoolery, while Ronnie commenced fingering through the pages of one of the books. I slipped my coat on, cautiously exited through the kitchen door into the hall, and returned to the living room door.
"Hi kids . . . how's the studying going?" I closed the door softly behind me.
"It's boring, Aunt Greta," Joyce said, "I think it'd be more fun to be a drop-out."
"Perish the thought, honey," I said, "you need the education. Anyway, you're not old enough."
"How disgustingly true," she agreed. "We've got two more years of this crap," Ronnie said, "it's revolting."
"Yuk!" Joyce added.
They were acting amazingly normal for what I knew they'd just been through. I hung my coat in the closet and picked up the newspaper. "You'd better get busy and finish that homework so I can get you two home . . . it'll start getting late." I took my paper to the far side of the room and lowered myself into the chair. "I'll be quiet while you study," I said, "just tell me when you're finished so we can get started."
I tried to concentrate on the things in the newspaper, but it was to no avail. The events of the past hour were monopolizing my brain waves. I found myself avidly reviewing the scene, like a rerun of one of my sex films on my projector. Still dancing around in my head were the visions of those symbolic implements of sex, those all-important integral portions of these two youthful beings so generously presented for my own private enjoyment. Still filled with the lingering sensations of my recent releases, my body seemed reluctant to simmer down to a total halt. I was now feeling the awareness of the immediate need to begin my extensive course of action, having made my final definite decision about Joyce. It would require meticulous planning, of this I was certain. The fragility of her tender age would call for special precautions, which would undoubtedly present problems to be coped with. The underlying factor of her overly protective parents would be ever present. Charles and Ruth must never, never know of such a thing. There would be Beth to consider. Somehow, Beth was fading from my conscience since I had feasted my eyes upon the lusciousness of Joyce's delicious young body. At any rate, Beth had lost some of her importance to me now. I was suddenly thinking that if Joyce could attain the skills that Beth had learned, what an association it could promise to be. So young and eager, she could learn fast. I was hoping it was much more than just a passing thought.
My mind seemed to be running away with itself again.
I decided to make an attempt to erase for the time being all of my sexual fantasies that had been bombarding my brain. I turned my attention to the newspaper while the kids worked to complete their studying. The front page carried pictures taken at the county park following the last snowfall, describing the countryside as a winter wonderland, splashed in elegant white. Somehow, I have always preferred the summer scene where things are bathed in green and highlighted by the warming rays of a July sun. An article told of the current gas shortage due to the foul weather, and how people were starting to get fed up with the restrictions on temperatures in their homes and businesses. A few more fatalities were listed as a result of accidents caused by the bad driving conditions. The daily weather forecast indicated continued cold weather, but there was no snow in the immediate prediction. I leafed through a few more pages and stopped at the one giving the horoscope predictions. Mine told me nothing. The reading for Taurus could have applied to any one of ten million people, regardless of their birth sign. I settled down to work the crossword puzzle to while away the time.
It was around nine-thirty when Joyce and Ronnie closed their books and terminated their studies. The three of us donned our heavy coats and headed three flights down to the car, which I'd left parked in front of the apartment. I opened the door on the curb side, waiting for the kids to get in. Joyce started in first, suddenly remembering that she'd be getting out first, so she motioned Ronnie in before her, sandwiching him between us. My compact car doesn't afford the front-seat width of larger cars, but it felt comfortable with the three of us snuggled in it tightly together. After we'd driven a few miles, the heater warmed the car cozily.
We arrived at Joyce's place in about fifteen minutes. "Tell Ruth I'll not come in," I said to Joyce, "I'd better get Ronnie home."
"Okay, Aunt Greta, I'll tell mom. And thanks for the ride." She opened the door. "Bye, Ronnie."
"So long," Ronnie said, "see you tomorrow."
I waited till she got safely inside the house before I started out. It was only another fifteen minutes to Ronnie's place on the far end of town, so there wasn't any real need to rush. After Joyce had gotten out of the car there was more space to move around, but apparently Ronnie never gave a thought to moving over. His leg had been wedged firmly against mine all the way and it felt good as we jolted about over the potholes in the streets. I had even pressed against him a little harder than would have been necessary at times, but he made no effort to resist, and I got the feeling he might have been enjoying it. I was also remembering so vividly that beautiful young cock that Joyce had enjoyed just a few hours ago. I began harboring thoughts of making some sort of a move that might instigate a little fast young' action. After all, this kid should still be ripe and ready after his recent go-around with Joyce. Whether he would be receptive would remain to be seen. Right now, I only knew that after seeing the beauty of that gorgeous young dick back at the apartment, I was left with a torrid craving for it. And now here it was, just inches within my reach, waiting to be had, if I could play my cards right. I found the overwhelming desire building rapidly within me. Even though my masturbatory release had been thoroughly satisfying back at the apartment, a certain tingling sensation still remained inside my body. The situation seemed to be made to order . . . this young and handsome boy snuggled close to me, probably very vulnerable to the touch . . . a little time to spare . . . a comfortably warm car. Somehow this seemed to be my day of planning and hasty decision making.
I headed the car toward the main highway, taking plenty of time, dodging some of the holes in the road and purposely hitting a few others. The sudden vibrations and jolting effects would serve to create some additional friction and provide a stimulating sensation upon our two bodies. I decided to amplify this with a little extra nudging of my own when the opportunity presented itself. Ronnie made no attempt to resist my movements. He had remained quiet, so I decided to get some conversation started. "You're just about Joyce's age, aren't you Ronnie?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "I'll be sixteen next October."
"Next October?" I don't know why, but I remembered reading in the horoscope column that people born during October and November would fall under the sign of Scorpio.
"Oh, then you're a Scorpio," I said, acting surprised.
"Scorpio . . . yeah, that's what I am. How did you know?" He seemed elated at my revelation.
"I can tell," I said, glancing over and giving him a provocative wink, "Scorpios are sexy, and you look sexy. Are you?" I gave his leg an extra little nudge.
"I guess I am . . . " he laughed. He seemed to be accepting my line of conversation with little resistance.
"I guess you haven't had much sex yet," I said, waiting for his response.
"A little, I guess . . . " he said quickly.
"How did you like it?" I asked casually.
"I liked it fine," He shifted a little, indicating that I was getting through to him.
"Does it embarrass you to talk about it?" I asked.
"No . . . not really," he laughed, "I kinda like it."
Just then we passed beneath a lighted area, and during those few seconds I looked down and saw the growing bulge between his legs. I made sure he saw me noticing it. I knew I was home free. It was the signal for my next move. I reached over and gave him a little pat on the rigid lump of flesh. "What seems to be going on here?" I said as I rubbed my hand gently over it.
"I guess I'm getting a hard-on," he laughed, easing his bottom up to meet my caresses.
"Would you like me to take care of it for you?" I asked him, my fingers now circled about the cloth of his jeans.
"I'd like that . . . " His body was beginning to quiver as his excitement grew.
Up ahead I could see the lights of the little pizza parlor on my side of the road. Reaching it, I swerved into the rear driveway and pulled the car into a darkened, secluded section of the parking lot. I released my hand from between Ronnie's legs just long enough to switch off the ignition key.
Ronnie instinctively moved over to the far side of the seat as I edged closer to him. I lowered his zipper slowly, inch by inch, teasing him while I heightened his growing excitement. "Are you gonna jack me off?" he asked.
"Would you like that?" The zipper was fully opened now.
"I love to get jacked off," he said, squirming a bit.
I reached inside his jeans and released the stiffening rod from the interior of his shorts. It was so beautiful, as I had already learned, but now I had it right here in my hand, close up and throbbing for attention. Fully erected now, I couldn't resist the urge to start at the swollen head and run my curved hand slowly down the entire length of it, reaching the flabby testicles and squeezing them gently but firmly. "Oh, that feels good!" Ronnie sighed. I couldn't remember when I'd last had a young, tender cock like this, and right now it didn't really matter. At the moment the uppermost thought in my mind was to do complete justice to this gorgeous youth, to provide him with a thrill he'd cherish forever. I wanted him to remember this as a very special occasion.
"I'm going to do something real nice for you, Ronnie," I said, "have you ever had a blow-job?"
He looked at me inquisitively. "A blow-job . . . ? "
"Yes, a blow-job . . . have you ever had it sucked?"
"I've heard of it, I think . . . " It was immediately obvious that Ronnie was about to get his cock sucked for the first time in his life.
"Lie back and relax, Ronnie," I said almost in a whisper, "I'm going to show you how it's done."
I lowered my head to the rigid, tempting morsel before me, engulfing it deep within my burning mouth, not stopping until I felt the metal of his zipper brushing the tip of my nose. He expelled a hearty gasp as I made the initial thrust. I was ecstatically maddened by the two-fold benefits of my accomplishment. Not only was I providing this magnificent cock with its very first serving of french dessert, I was also receiving my first taste of the remnants of the love juices from Joyce's luscious young cunt into which it had been inserted only a few hours ago. I drew back, allowing my tongue the unrestrained freedom necessary to provide the extra little side thrills that are so much a part of a perfectly satisfying frenching operation.
Ronnie's head was now bobbing recklessly about, displaying the torrid effects of the heavenly sensations he was receiving. I knew he wouldn't be able to hold out for long under these conditions. My eager tongue continued its journey up and down the length of his pulsating young organ, licking and slapping and teasing, urging from it anything and everything it had to offer. With the preliminaries now over with, I lowered my mouth fully onto it for the second time, beginning my slow back-and-forth sucking actions, increasing the pace as the inevitable moment approached. My own passions were now running almost out of control as I imagined both Ronnie's tender cock and Joyce's luscious cunt in my mouth together, the juices of love intermixing and driving me mad. My own smoldering pussy didn't require actual physical stimulation this time around . . . my satisfactions were being serviced strictly through my mental processes.
Ronnie was moaning now, thrashing Wildly on the seat, clutching at my hair, urging me to completion. Suddenly he released into the waiting depths of my throat the spasmodic torrents of velvety hot semen I had labored so urgently to receive. I remained faithfully in my position until the final lingering throb had disappeared, absorbing into me every drop of fluid that was readily obtainable. Only after his beautiful organ began to shrivel did I release it from my satisfied mouth. Ronnie sank deeper into the seat and heaved a tremendous sigh.
"Did you like it?" I asked him, looking directly up into his eyes.
"I never knew anything could feel so good," he gasped, closing his zipper.
"You won't tell Joyce or anyone about this now.. . promise?"
"Promise," he said.
"It wouldn't be good if anyone found out about this," I said, "but I sort of like you, Ronnie, and you know how it is when a person gets the hots.. . "
"Sure," Ronnie said, "Don't worry . . . I like you too, and I'd never say anything."
"Thanks Ronnie," I said gratefully, "thanks a lot."
During the activities the car had taken on an unpleasant chill which we hadn't noticed until now. I started the engine and headed back out to the highway. I dropped Ronnie off at his home about ten minutes later and continued on home to the apartment. The heater was now sending out new blasts of warm air again, and it provided a satisfying warmth and comfort. I glanced down at my gas gauge, which showed a half-tank remaining. Strangely enough, it was the only thing that left me with a slight feeling of guilt, telling the kids I needed gas when I really didn't. Just a little white lie, but it had paid off handsomely.
Looking back over my day I decided I'd have to chalk it up as one of my more productive ones. I was suddenly realizing that I'd accomplished two firsts. Not bad at all for a Monday. My continuing successes seemed to be bearing out the truth of my father's advice of long ago. Determination. Combined with my Taurus persistence, it seemed to be the predominating factor in my everyday make-up. . Thinking back over my day, I could have easily side-stepped the opportunities that had presented themselves to me and they would have passed into oblivion. Rather, I pursued them, caught up with them, and ended up a winner. Yes, it had been quite a day.
A solid night's rest provided me with .all the necessary ingredients for a feeling of renewed energy for the new day that was facing me. A bright sun contributed generously to my overall sense of well-being. When the alarm sounded, I offered no resistance, surprising myself at the promptness I displayed in rolling myself out of bed and making my way to the kitchen for the usual morning breakfast. A luke-warm shower added a satisfying freshness to my body, readying me for another day at the office.
It wasn't much different from any other day, except for the chilly atmosphere, which we were beginning to accept as something we couldn't do much about anyway. The whole office force had showed up, confirming the recent newspaper reports that the flu epidemic hadn't arrived in our part of the country. Absenteeism had remained at a minimum, and other than a few assorted coughs and sniffles, everyone seemed to remain hale and hardy.
Carl seemed to be having one of his frequent off-days, on which occasions his crabby personality surfaced, and we'd learned to live with his slurs and sarcastic orders until one of his better days arrived. I knew this would be one day I'd not receive his affectionate little pat on my ass, not that I really wanted it. I was perfectly satisfied with things as they were. Margie Hanley was more friendly than usual, offering several sensual gestures throughout the morning, but I decided she'd have to wait for another day.' Somehow, I was feeling strangely at peace with myself, my physical body asking for nothing in the way of sexual satisfaction for the moment. I was thoroughly content to allow my mind dwell on the more important matters of the recent past. My mind at this point seemed to be commanding my body to rest-a sort of preparation for things to come. I found myself no longer able to dwell on the unimportant facets of my existence. There was only one truly elegant thought dominating my mind . . . Joyce. Now that my decision had been so firmly, so definitely made, my seduction process would require every fragment of mental manipulation that I posessed. Although it was difficult for me to believe that it was happening, my feelings now toward Beth somehow didn't hold the same significance. I was eternally grateful for my close association with her, one of the finest of my entire lifetime. I didn't intend to abandon her. I owed her that much. Yet she could never know about my connection with Joyce, once I had attained my goal with her. In my intricate plans, this would be as important as the necessary secrecy of our act regarding Joyce's parents. This would have to be a completely concealed affair, a strictly private happening between my niece and myself. Somehow, the blood relationship didn't enter the picture at all. It was of little or no consequence. It was the material being that made the difference . . . the young, tempting dish of flesh that I knew had to be mine. This one kind of experience I had yet to savor, and cherish . . . the one sexual experience I had been deprived of during a fantastic career of lusty encounters. No, this wasn't just an ordinary passing imagine, something that might come and go like the breeze. It was something that had to be . . . like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle to be fit into place. Yes, there could be no doubt about it, Joyce was destined to be mine! She was like a Utopian dream, presenting itself to me in all its splendor and glory. And there would be no stone left unturned until I could see it come true.
CHAPTER FIVE
It would have been the perfect kind of morning to linger in the sack a while longer, but duty had to overrule my fondest wishes. The thickening clouds that drifted slowly across the darkened sky gave no indication that we'd be in for a single ray of sunlight throughout this utterly dreary-looking day. Wind velocities had increased during the night and it went without saying that the chill-factor's were again on the way down. This was confirmed when I snapped the radio on just in time for the weather forecast. The prediction was for the new storm to hit us full blast by tonight, with blowing and drifting snow accompanied by rapidly falling temperatures. Revolting! I wanted to hear no more of this. I reached up and silenced the little squawk-box with a twist of my fingers.
A bowl of instant oatmeal, a glass of juice, and a cup of coffee completed my hurried breakfast. The hands on the clock seemed to move faster than usual, and I found myself wishing they would move this way throughout my day at the office. If I hurried I should make it on time, barring any unforeseen holdups along the way.
I started my long trek down the three flights of stairs to the garage, wondering when they would finally get the elevator in operating condition again. My question was partially answered when I reached the first floor entrance hall as I noted the uncrated gear they'd ordered, and a coil of heavy rope on the floor next to the door. Perhaps they were going to work on the elevator today. I had no idea how much work was involved, but if they got it running I might-even be afforded the luxury of riding up to my apartment when I arrived home. The inconvenience during the time it was not running was rugged, but then I was thinking of all the tenants on the upper floors above me who had it even worse. It tended to lessen my own aggravation.
The car started without any problems, and I arrived at the office right on time. The main , topic of the day was the news of the new onslaught of weather moving in on us, with everyone sharing the same feelings of disgust. We'd been hoping so desperately for a permanent break so that we could return to normal heating conditions, which would result in all of the energy restrictions being lifted. With the current bleak outlook it didn't look as though it was about to happen for some time to come. Jointly, we had made a vow not to even mention the weather for the remainder of the day. Knowing there was nothing we could do about it anyway, we let the subject lie dormant as we went about our day's activities.
My morning was occupied mostly with a backlog of reports that had to be sorted and filed away. Carl Rhoades approached me several times with a horny look in his eye, indicating he was in the mood again for a little lunch-hour action. Poor Carl. Little did he realize that there was no way he was going to score today. This is one day I had no intentions of engaging in any type of extracurricular activities at the office. My energies were now being held in reserve for the one activity I had waited a lifetime to cherish and enjoy . . . the activity that was now just hours away. Joyce's parents had to go out of town for a few days and had left their dear, darling daughter in my care. And I can tell you, I was planning to take care of her all right-the best care possible. The very thought of Joyce's tender, lovable young body sent waves of expectation through me . . . a sensation that could only be summed up in a single word-ecstasy. The radiance of my anticipation must have showed brilliantly, as the office crew responded keenly to my air of exuberance throughout the course of the day. A short while before the noon lunch period arrived, Margie Hanley eased over to me and rubbed her tight-skirted ass against mine. "Looks like you're feeling chipper today, Greta . . . " She had that certain vulturous look in her eyes, telling me immediately what she had in mind. She was staring hungrily at my tits as if she would devour them right then and there. "Not really, honey," I told her quickly with a wink "I've got a headache."
"Oh, that's a shame." She said, pursing her lips. Her disappointment showed clearly, and I actually felt a little sorry for her. "Maybe another time?" she asked. "Sure, Margie," I said, "another time." She seemed willing to accept it then, and we both went about our business as usual the remainder of the day.
Having informed Carl about my fabricated dental appointment earlier in the day, I had no problem when three o'clock rolled around. I was out of there and heading for home with the enthusiasm of a kid with a new toy. Reaching the apartment, I parked the car in the garage and headed in through the front entrance. As I expected, the uncrated gear, rope, and other equipment were still there, untouched, so it was obvious I would be hoofing my way up the stairs once more. By now I was beginning to get used to the routine and was taking it for granted. I supposed the repairmen were on some other job and couldn't make it yet. Regardless, it didn't cause me to be any less winded when I reached my apartment door on the third floor.
I immediately went about the task of preparing the evening meal for Joyce and me. Opening a can of chili, I placed it in a pan and set it over a low flame on the stove. The refrigerator yielded a supply of frozen french fries, and I poured the necessary cooking oil into the fryer, placing the potatoes in the wire basket in readiness for their frying. I started a kettle of water to heating, which would be used for our hot chocolate. Opening a fresh box of crackers, I placed a package on a dish on the table. With everything in readiness, there would be no waiting to eat once Joyce arrived.
I went to the bedroom and hunted out my sexiest, form-fitting slacks . . . the apple-green ones with the dark green waistband. I discarded my bra and slipped on my pale-blue jersey sweater, leaving nothing between my flesh and the material. I was determined to look my sexiest best for Joyce, and I attended to every minor detail. If she had ever thought of me as an older woman, her thoughts would now change in a hurry. I was going to make her want me as she'd never wanted anything else in her young life. Her luscious teen-age mouth would be watering for me before she knew what was happening. It would be a night whose memory she would cherish for years to come.
A pair of my black high-heeled slippers completed the picture, bringing out the well-rounded curvature of my legs as they nestled snugly against the flimsy material of my slacks. I ran the comb caressingly through the length of my hair, gracefully over my shoulders and dangled in an arc at the rear. I silently complimented myself, as a glance in the mirror attested to a job well done. If I have to say so myself, I had never looked lovelier.. . sexier.
In the living room, I went to the record cabinet and went through the collection of pictorial hard-core sex books I'd accumulated over the years. There had always been a couple of favorites, so these would be the ones I would choose. I placed them in full view on the coffee table where Joyce would be sure to find them while doing her homework on the sofa. The curiosity of her young mind would provide the temptation to look at them, especially if I were to make it a point to be out of the room at the time. Doing such things on the sly this way seems to hold a greater fascination for the subject. I would soon see how it would work out. As the time slipped by, I felt the anticipation growing rapidly within me. It was a terrific sensation. Like embarking on a totally new career . . . a thrilling new adventure . . . a new peak . . . the culmination of a yearning desire so long concealed, and now ready to be satisfied to a perfectly logical conclusion, like the great pearly gates about to open before me, permitting my entrance into eternal glory.
At precisely four-ten the knock came on the living room door.
"Hi Aunt Greta," Joyce said cheerfully as she kicked off her boots and placed them out-side the door. I held the door open for her to enter.
"Joyce honey," I said at once, "I've been waiting for you." I took her books and little suitcase and set them on the table next to the door.
Joyce looked extremely surprised as she looked me over. "Wow! Do you look sharp!" she said.
"I guess I can dress up a little for my company," I said, smiling back at her.
"I'm not company," she laughed, "I'm just your little old niece."
"Little young niece," I corrected.
I took her coat and hung it in the closet. She folded her arms around herself. "Boy, is it getting cold again out there!"
"I guess we're in for another bad storm . tonight," I said, "but who cares? We'll be in where it's nice and cozy."
"Right," Joyce agreed, "Who cares?" Her face reflected her childish radiance as she flashed her familiar impish smile. She looked toward the kitchen and began sniffing. "Is that chili I smell?"
"That's chili you smell," I said, "how does that grab you?"
"Super!" She was really elated.
"I just have to drop in the french fries," I told her, "they should be ready in a jiffy."
She followed me into the kitchen, her long golden hair bouncing with every vigorous step. "You sure know what I like, Aunt Greta," she said, "mom has chili and fries often for me at home."
"I hope they made it to your Aunt Belle's all right." I said, "it's a pretty good drive up there."
"They'll make it okay," Joyce said, "daddy's a careful driver."
"The new storm should have blown over before they have to start back." I was hoping I'd be right.
Joyce was taking in every movement of my body with a curious adoration and I was secretly enjoying her attention. I was giving her every opportunity to become acquainted with me in a different way than she'd been accustomed to in the past. Before this night was over she would experience delights that few girls her age would ever dream of experiencing. I tried not to let her see me observing her obvious scrutiny of my body as I moved about.
"Y'know, aunt Greta," she said, fixing her eyes on me, "I never realized you were built so nicely.. . "
"Well . . . how nice of you to say so," I said, acting surprised.
. "I really mean it," she said, "your body is super."
"I know some little girl who I could say the same thing about.. . "
"Do you really think so? Do you think I have a nice shape?" She was almost pleading for my answer.
"I certainly do, honey," I told her. "A lot of girls your age would give anything to have your body and . . . " I made an unspoken gesture toward her beautiful young breasts and she immediately grasped the meaning.
"Ronnie thinks so too," she said at once. "He thinks I have the nicest body of all the girls at the school."
"I guess as long as he thinks so, that's all that matters," I said. The line of conversation was leading in the exact direction I had hoped for, but I wanted to get the meal over with before pursuing it in earnest.
"Soup's on . . . " I announced to her as I measured out the chili into our bowls and lifted the french fries from the hot grease. She took her place at the table while I made the hot chocolate.
The anticipation of the immediate hours ahead was building rapidly within me, but I tried purposely to prolong the stay at the table. I wanted Joyce's flighty teen-age exuberance to simmer down to a complete state of calm. I wanted her to enter into an utterly smooth period of relaxation in preparation for her studies, and for what was to follow. I wanted nothing to stand in the way of what I had in mind for her. The zero hour was, fast approaching, and I wanted my plans to go off exactly as I had formulated them.
We lingered leisurely at the kitchen table, exchanging casual conversation. Outside the window heavy granules of sleet pelted against the pane and bounced off the grating of the fire escape. The gradually increasing velocity of the wind guests confirmed the reports of the approaching new storm.
"It's a good night to be indoors," I told Joyce as I directed my eyes to the window.
"Right on," she said, continuing to consume her fries and chili.
I took a sip of my chocolate and looked casually across the table at her. "You might as well get your homework done as soon as you're finished here." I remember how Ruth had always persuaded her to do it early and get it over with.
"You sound just like my mom," she smiled.
"If you get it out of the way now, you won't have to worry about it later," I said.
"I guess you're right," she agreed.
We both finished eating and I shoved my chair away from the table. "Now you run along and get started," I said, "I'll clean up the dishes."
"I'll be glad to help you," she said quickly.
"There's not that many to do . . . I'll have them finished in no time at all." Again I was aware of her close examination of my body as she shoved her way through the swinging door and entered the living room.
I cleared the things from the table and gave her a couple of minutes to get her books and get settled on the sofa behind the coffee table. I tiptoed over to the door where I would have a clear view of her through the little window I'd put to such uses in the recent past. Already she had discovered my sex books and was avidly leafing through the pages of one of them. She was so preoccupied with the contents I didn't have to worry about her seeing me through the glass. With the turning of every page she became more engrossed with her discovery, and her facial expressions revealed her total enjoyment at what she was viewing. I could see that she hadn't opened her school books yet.
Forgetting the dishes I'd placed in the sink, I decided that the time had come to get the festivities started. Bolting hurriedly through the door, I caught her by surprise, which is just the way I'd planned it. She made no effort to hide the book from me, but rather looked up at me with a slightly startled glance.
"Oh honey, you're not supposed to see those . . . I guess I forgot to put them away . . . " My act of surprise seemed very convincing.
"Wow! These are real dillies!" Joyce said, her wide eyes sparkling.
"That's adult material," I said, "you shouldn't be.. . "
"The kids at school had some of these . . . only, not as good.. . "
"The kids at school? You've seen books like this before?"
"Sure, the kids hide them in their desks . . . they call it their 'sex education.'" I was surprised at her straightforward honesty.
"When I was your age, we didn't have this sort of thing.. . "
She tossed her hair back with a movement of her head and looked at me through dancing eyes. "I didn't know you had books like this."
"When a woman doesn't have a man around, she needs something to take the place of one." I waited for her reaction.
"Oh!" she said. I could see that she was pondering over my statement. "Do these pictures really turn you on?"
I looked at her for a split-second. "Let me answer that with a question of my own, 'Do they turn YOU on?' "
"Wow . . . do they!" She shifted her little ass toward the edge of the sofa and reached for the other book. "Your books show people doing things I never heard of before.. . "
"You know, you haven't started your homework yet," I reminded her.
"I can do it later," she said, leafing eagerly through the second book. "Do you mind if I look at your books?"
"You've already seen them, and you know what's in them . . . I won't stop you if you really want to look through them." I noticed she had stopped at a full-page photograph showing two lovely girl engaged in a torrid sixty-nine session. I gave her a little wink. "You won't tell anyone I let you see them?"
"Don't worry, Aunt Greta," she said assuredly, "this will be our little secret." Her words filled me with a satisfying sense of accomplishment.
With the first phase of my plan well under way, I decided it was time to shift into second gear. Joyce's blood was now warming to the comfortable stage, and the books should provide the continuing stimulation within her tingling young body. The time had arrived for my next consecutive move. I looked down at Joyce, now so avidly engrossed in her examination of the pornographic pictures. "I think a nice warm shower would be in order right about now," I said, heading toward the bathroom.
"Good idea," Joyce said, not removing her eyes from the book.
In the bathroom I snapped on the electric heater and turned on the hot water faucet to let the water run warm. I pushed the door to a semi-closed position to keep most of the warmth in and still provide me with a good view of Joyce on the sofa. It took but a minute to remove every piece of clothing I had so carefully put on just an hour or so ago. Adjusting the spray to a soothing temperature, I eased my naked form under the showerhead, allowing the warm moisture to caress every inch of my flesh, setting in motion the waves of preliminary sensations that were soon to explode into the full-scale finale I had been striving an entire lifetime to achieve. My inner passions began soaring to new heights of expectancy as the water coaxed from me the tormenting thrills dictated my agile mind. Through the open door I watched Joyce as she lay the opened book on the table before her, apparently finding a picture that sent her mind reeling. I could see her dainty hand working its way inside the waist-band of her jeans and down to the area between her sweet young thighs. A new surge of lust roared through my burning body. It was my cue to carry my actions a step further. In her condition she would be ready for anything I would suggest. And I was more than ready. I had to get her in here with me without delay!
My eyes fell upon the nylon back-brush on the ledge of the tub. I grabbed it up quickly and with all the strength in my hands snapped it off close to the brush end. It was like I was putting an end to my relationship with all the friends I'd shared it with during last night's torrid masturbatory fantasies. It had served its purpose so beautifully then, but now I would put it to use once again. I reached over and pulled the door open a little wider. "Joyce honey.. . could you come here for a minute?"
In a couple of moments she was at the door, her angelic young face filled with the passion of her recent experience. She was drinking in the elegance of my nude, . wet body. "You called?" she said almost in a passionate whisper, her impish smile emerging in all its glory.
"It looks like I've broken my back-brush . . . you mind scrubbing my back for me with the washcloth?"
"Sure I will . . . " She didn't hesitate for a moment. It was the first time she'd seen my completely naked body and I knew she was thoroughly enjoying it.
I dampened the washcloth under the shower spray and soaped it well. She took it and started the circular motions, starting at my neck and working to my lower back. Still breathing heavily, I made no effort to conceal my keyed-up emotions. And Joyce was going through the very same thing, as I already knew. She reminded me of a fragile bubble about to burst at any moment.
"Does it embarrass you to see me this way?" I asked her, knowing full well she didn't embarrass easily.
"Of course not," she said casually, "I enjoy seeing your beautiful body like this.. . "
"I'm glad, honey," I said. She began widening the diameter of the circular motions, lingering longer . . . much longer than she would have needed to, as she reached into other areas, beneath the arms, and the sides of my resilient tits. "Your skin is so smooth and satiny . . . " she said, and I could hear her breathing becoming faster, more pronounced. The effects of her probing hands were becoming more than I could possibly bear without some form of audible expression. "Oh God, does that feel good, honey," I gasped. We were mutually aware of what was going on inside our tortured minds. I had been through it many times before, but Joyce . . . this was her first real experience, her very first attempt at sharing these intense joys with another member of her own sex. And here she was, thoroughly primed and ready for the ecstatic plunge. Now, more than ever I was realizing that I had a truly virgin lesbian on my hands. It required further instigation on my part, but I knew it wouldn't be difficult.
Joyce showed no signs or indications of stopping what she was completely enjoying. The thick lather was now covering a good portion of my upper .body, applied by her soft, lovable hands. I turned around, facing her, looking directly into her gorgeous limpid eyes, the exchange of our soaring passions now obvious. "Do you want to do it to me . . . all over, I mean?"
"Oh yes . . .yes . . . you don't know how much . . . " Her eyes spoke of nothing but sex. "Why don't you get rid of your clothes?" I suggested, "Then you can join me in here . . Almost before I'd finished speaking, she was wriggling out of her jeans and sweater. The flimsy panties and bra were the last to come off, finally displaying to me the luscious young body I had waited an eternity to have so close to me. And here it was, like a delicious gourmet dinner ready to be served to me on a silver platter . . . the heavenly roundness of a tender young ass,, the silken smooth flesh of the inviting rose-tipped mounds, the soft pouting lips pleading for action of their own.
I held her hand firmly as she stepped into the tub next to me. Reaching up, I directed the spray of warm water onto her lower body, being careful not to wet her long, flowing hair. Now facing each other, I handed her the bar of soap, having discarded the washcloth. "You did a good job on my back, honey," I said, "now let's finish the job . . . " She rotated the soap between her hands under the spray of water, forming a generous mass of lather. Dividing it within her palms, she separated her hands and applied them directly and lovingly to my rubbery breasts, caressing them simultaneously, spreading the slippery smoothness over them till I thought I would die. "Oh, but they're beautiful!" She gasped. She wasn't calling me "Aunt Greta" now, which put our immediate relationship on a more personal, woman-to-woman basis.
"You really like them, don't you, honey?" I said, thrusting forward to meet her caresses.
"Oh yes . . . I just love them . . . " She sighed, "This is turning you on, isn't it?"
"Do I have to answer that?" I gasped. She reached up to the showerhead, directing the spray over the lathered mounds, rinsing them to a glistening smoothness, the erected nipples standing out bold and inviting. "I'm going to kiss them like the girls were doing in the pictures . . . do you mind?"
"I've been looking forward to it, honey . . . please don't be shy." The anticipation was overwhelming me.
She moved in close, her. lips on a nearly perfect level with my receptive tits. Engulfing the left one, she sucked it into her hungry mouth like a pro, circling the sensitive nipple with expert movements of a tongue that seemed to be lined with velvet. Her fragile fingertips teased the surrounding flesh, sending new sensations through me, sensations that were difficult to describe. I was finding it hard to believe that this was her first female experience. She was doing a job on me equivalent to the quality of Beth's jobs. As she moved to the opposite breast continuing to deliver her perfectly ecstatic administrations, I began running my fingers through the length of her long, soft tresses, following down along the smoothness of her neck, her upper back and arms, caressing and teasing all the way, urging her into still more advanced plateaus of sensation.
Joyce was now expelling little whimpers of passion as she continued, spurred by the jolts she was receiving from my wandering hands. The furnace between my legs was beginning to operate at full blasts as I knew it also was with Joyce, but I wanted to save this best part of our orgy till last. There would be a lot of ground to cover between now and then. I wanted to prolong this heavenly night for as long as was humanly possible.
Joyce broke her connection from me and looked up into my face. Her eyes were filled with unbelievable lust. "Would you please do this to me now.. . ? "
"I thought you'd never ask," I said quickly.
"I really want you to . . . " she said with a slight quiver, "you don't know how bad I want you to . . . " And she didn't know how bad I wanted to.. . . how-long I had waited for this moment. Impulsively I pulled her svelte young body into my nakedness, clinging to her like a sucking leech, savoring the torrid warmth of her tender flesh against mine. "Oh God, Joyce," I gasped as I pulled her tighter into me, "I've been wanting to make love to you for so long . . .
Her voice was muffled against the heat of my skin. "I'm so glad we understand each other . . . " The words were music to my ears.
"Then let's show each other how much we really do . . . " I could feel her heart beating rapidly against me.
I released my hold on her and she looked up lovingly into my face "You mean, like . . . all the way?"
"All the way," I said, meeting her eyes head on.
"Like they were doing in the books?" she asked.
"Even more," I promised her.
"Wow!" She gasped, "I've never . . . "
"We need each other, honey," I said, caressing her nakedness again, "our bodies are burning, crying for each other . . . "
"I've never felt this hot before . . . " she agreed. I knew she had reached the melting point. She buried her face deeply into the softness of my breasts again, clamping her arms around me.
"I'm going to show you how it's really done, honey," I whispered down at her, "there's more to it than you'll ever believe.. . "
She spoke again without relinquishing her position from me. "It'll be just our own little secret?"
"Only our own little secret . . . yours and mine . . . nobody else will ever know."
She squeezed me more tightly now, her body beginning to heave with anticipation. My own body was now crying out for fulfillment, for the promise of total satisfaction, demanding now some sort of immediate action. Our merging flesh gyrated in unison, one naked body against the other, setting off the sparks that were about to light the coals of fire within us. I struggled hard to expel the words between my uncontrollable passions. "I'm going to make this a night you'll never forget. We'll take our time . . . we'll make love all night . . . maybe forever . . . but we'll make it good . . . oh, so very good.. . "
Joyce raised her head from the resiliency of my breasts, a tortured look on her gorgeous young face, her eyes pleading. "Please do something to me . . . right now I Don't make me wait any longer . . . Pleaseeeze . . . ! " For the first time since she was a baby, I saw tears in her eyes. I should have never teased her for so long. It had been an important part of my seduction plan, but it was so successfully completed. Now that the hurdle was passed, I could get down to the serious business at hand.
"Please" . . . she begged me, "please make me feel good . . . "
I dropped to my knees in front of her. I felt the heat of her breath on my head as she exhaled a massive sigh of passion upon me. I clamped my burning lips over the deliciousness of a tender young tit and began a series of slow, circular motions with the moistness of my educated tongue. It was only the beginning. There was a long, eventful night ahead of us. We were just embarking upon our glorious journey into the land of the angels.
CHAPTER SIX
Joyce's eager receptivity to my attentions was most rewarding. Suddenly aware that this night would be the ultimate climax to every whim and wish I'd ever had about her, I knew that now there would be nothing I wouldn't do to please her. There remained no question in my mind that from this moment on we would share our craving bodies, exchanging forever the untold joys of female love. We had already vowed to make it our own little secret, and ours alone. This tender, luscious little being deserved the very best, and I would see that she received it.
In the confinement of the tub I continued my pleasantries upon her silky young tits, alternating from one to the other, teasing them, licking them, sucking them into my hungry mouth. New sighs of ecstasy emerged from her' sensuous lips with each new motion of my hot, wet tongue as it moved randomly along in whichever direction I commanded it to travel. Each touch and every loving stroke became an original thrill, a new experience as I performed my artistry upon this tender virgin flesh. Her muffled sighs became more audible as she struggled to control her rapid quivering, trying desperately not to interrupt the rhythm of my movements. "Oh it feels so good . . . it feels sooooooo good!" I glanced up quickly into her face to acknowledge her compliment, not removing my lips from her flesh. My own body was screaming now for attention, but I fought and won the battle to postpone any such ideas until later. It just wasn't time yet. At the moment my first and foremost obligation was to Joyce. I wanted desperately to get to her moistening young cunt as I knew she was so frantically awaiting me to do. But this was still only the preliminaries, only the initating stages of our love-fest. Before approaching the really heavy activity I wanted her to have the first minor climax of our new relationship. I wanted so much to be an important part of it . . . to feel her burst of sudden release . . . to thoroughly enjoy the rapture of her satisfaction. She was clutching madly at my head. now, frantically urging me on, pleading for the furtherance of my attentions. Waves of torrid bliss thrashed through my own body, challenging my sense of control, daring me into other areas of her lusciousness, but my mind commanded me to wait. Not yet. It would only break the intricate timing of my plan. The act of prolongation was a vital part of my performance. The best part was yet to come.
Approaching the towering peaks of readiness, Joyce's body writhed recklessly in sensual delight. There was no question that she was on the immediate brink of that initial magic moment. The mindling of slurping sounds against her flesh, the tingling moistures flowing about our naked bodies, the aura of total lust had taken its toll. "DO IT!" she screamed, her lips curled in lustful agony, "DO IT . . . DO IT . . . I'm coming . . . I'm COMMMMMING'" With perfect timing, I adjusted my tongue movements to her diminishing pulsations. With a final ecstatic gasp she fell spent against my warm nakedness, her arms closing tightly around me. "That was so good . . . so very good . . . " Her voice was subdued, utterly sincere. I pulled her warm quivering body into me and pressed my lips to her waiting mouth, lingering there to savor its delicious response. I released myself from her and observed the lust that was gathering in her lovely eyes. "This is only the beginning, darling . . . just a small sampling of what lies ahead . . . " I emphasized my words by tightening my arms around her, squeezing her firmly into my breasts. She was totally relaxed now, the vibrations of her body now calmed. I was tremendously elated with the knowledge that I had successfully released this tender young thing by the mere application of my lips to her upper body. If she was that sensitive to the touch, what would she do when the time arrived for me to perform my torrid maneuvers between the lusciousness of her tender young thighs? Exceeding my most cherished expectations, I was assured that I was now in possession of a loving young nymph of the highest degree. My own precious, lovable niece, a raging bundle of delectable sex, an overly willing partner, one of my own kind, ready and waiting for her initiation into the world of lesbian love. Now there could be no further delays. The barrier was now happily broken. It was time to carry this orgiastic adventure another step forward. The ignited fires within our two screaming bodies demanded immediate squelching. They required the ultimate extinguishing that could now only come about through the series of love acts that were upon us. We were ready to embark upon the crucial phase of our new relationship.
The momentary lull made me acutely aware of the necessity to change the scene of our operations. Our preoccupation with the matters at hand had stifled my awareness of the inconvenience of the bathroom as a suitable setting for our love-making. Although the bedroom offered all of the required possibilities, I decided to move into the living room, the softness of the sofa holding so many fond memories of such activities over the past years. We'd have the comfort of the bed to cherish together after the immediate festivities were completed. The growing chill around us could be at least partially overcome with the help of the' heater, which could easily be transferred to a convenient place in front of the sofa.
I reached for the towel and patted the moisture away from Joyce's nubile body, then assisted her out of the tub. One of my extra robes from the closet provided her temporary warmth, while I dried myself with the same towel and donned my own robe. The dreamy countenance of anticipation never left her face as she followed me into the living room and eased down on the sofa, pulling the robe tightly around her body. There was a noticeable lack of spoken words between us now, but a different sense of communication prevailed. There was a new kind of unexplainable understanding between us. The aunt-niece relationship had been left far behind us. Even though she was still a mere child, there was a mature ra-port between us now, binding and unifying, the age difference becoming totally insignificant. We had successfully broken any bonds of doubt that might have ever lingered within our minds. We now shared a common cause . . . a single purpose.
I brought the heater from the bathroom and plugged it into the outlet next to the sofa. I aimed it carefully at the spot where I'd soon be joining her to resume the next phase of my plan. The immediate blast of heat was refreshing as I watched the sleet and snow pelting against the window, whipped by the fury of the wind. I suddenly remembered the half-used bottle of brandy in the kitchen, a memory of Joe Barnes's visit last week. It could be used for no better purpose than the one of the moment. In a few minutes I was pouring two generous portions into the small water glasses I'd placed on the coffee table. The aphrodisiac value of the liquor was hardly needed now, but it would serve to provide the necessary warmth to our disrobed bodies.
Joyce had again picked up the porno book she'd left open when I summoned her to the bathroom. With her passions now subsided a bit since her recent experience there, I knew the pictures would again have a profound effect upon her. Since we were in the midst of a temporary break in our action, there was one more little detail to attend to before resuming the party. I brought out the movie projector and placed it on the coffee table near the brandy. I hunted out one of my films, making a special point to select one with the most vivid lesbian action, one that I valued as a super stimulant.. . a torrid turn-on. Joyce looked up from her book as I threaded the film into its starting position. "I didn't know you had a movie machine.. . "
"I think you're going to like what I'm going to show you, honey," I said.
"I'll bet it's a porno movie," she said quickly.
"So much better than those picture books," I told her, "you'll see." I could see her fascination heightening.
I directed the lens toward the far wall and adjusted the focus. I closed the drapes and darkened the room, leaving on just a single small lamp near the window. Returning to the sofa, I lifted the two glasses and handed one to Joyce. "It won't hurt you, honey," I said, "it's only brandy.. . it'll keep us warm."
She hesitated a moment, then lifted it to her lips and took a small sip. "Oh, that's good . . . I like that," she said. She followed this with another sip.
"Just sip it slowly," I told her, "it's not like soda-pop." I was demonstrating how it should be done with my own drink, but I had the inner urge to violate my instructions, knowing full well the effects of brandy upon my sensual nerves. I knew it would eventually be doing the same thing for Joyce.
With the warming rays of the heater before us, and the brandy starting to work its way through our bloodstreams, the chill of the room suddenly became secondary. I dropped into the sofa beside Joyce, the anticipation of the resumption of my love-plans growing and expanding with each approaching second. I took another generous sip from my glass and Joyce followed suit. She didn't realize the true potency of the stuff she was consuming, but she would soon find out for herself. The glassy appearance of her beautiful eyes was already beginning to tell the story.
For a brief moment I reviewed the fine points of my elaborate plan. Had I forgotten anything? Up until now everything had gone smoothly . . . even better than I had expected. The preliminary phase had come off like a charm, paving the way for what was now to follow. I had now provided the necessary comfort to the environment . . . the brandy was already serving its purpose . . . the projector was in readiness. I felt the need to run over the details before the final phase of my love-making to Joyce, to be absolutely certain there would be nothing to hinder or stand in my way once we resumed the activity. I was desperately determined to provide her with the heavenly joys of all my combined past experiences. She deserved only the very best, and I was going to reward her with the sweet fruits of my efforts. Everything was now in readiness . . . everything taken care of. The zero hour was here. With the anticipation swelling uncontrollably inside of me, the alcohol searing rapidly through my veins, this heavenly little piece of tender flesh waiting, crying to be had . . . it was now time to begin my venture into the realm of living fantasy-land.
I reached over and twisted the switch on the projector. "If you think those pictures turn you on, wait till you see this movie," I said, looking around at Joyce.
She slid the book onto the table, lifting her glass to her lips again. "I've never seen a porno movie," she said with a tone of anxiety.
The brilliant light from the projector flashed across the room forming a bright square on the opposite wall. The picture blended into focus, revealing a pretty young girl in a blue chenille robe reclining against a pillow on a couch. A more mature woman entered the room dressed in a similar robe. Of course I knew exactly what would follow, having seen this film many times before. I selected it for this very reason, knowing how closely it would paralleled our own situation. The two participants could well be Joyce and myself.
Joyce's eyes were glued to the viewing area on the wall, her delicate young features a perfect study in innocent attentiveness. I took a sip of brandy from my glass and settled down beside her, watching. Even though there was no sound, the expressions on the faces of the two females told the complete story as they proceeded with what was to develop into a torrid session of love-making.
As the mature woman approached the young girl on the couch, they exchanged extremely sexy smiles, the girl, with a nod of her head inviting her visitor to join her. As they sat side by side, the action began immediately. A passionate kiss led off the activities, followed by the older girl helping the young one out of her robe, revealing her youthful charms in all their glory. The older girl showed her delight by moistening her full red lips with a single sweep of her tongue, moving in immediately to do her thing.
I smiled down at Joyce, but she didn't notice me. Her glistening eyes hadn't strayed from the picture. I didn't speak. I wanted to watch her reaction to what was to follow.
The older girl now began an erotic display of intricate tongue-work, a close-up showing the initial, torrid french kiss, the twisting of their hot tongues around each other, the lapping of the young girl's ears, her cheeks, her neck, in consecutive order. I felt Joyce's body shifting in excitement against me. "Wow!" she said, breaking her silence, "that must feel good."
"There's plenty more," I smiled, patting her leg, "just wait and see . . . " I could feel the tension mounting within both our bodies with each passing second. The brandy had now been absorbed into our bloodstreams sufficiently to provide that devil-may-care sensation. The movie was already making its contribution.
The older girl now shifted her position, working her way down along the young girl's belly, leaving trails of saliva behind each flick of her tongue. Then came the part I was anxiously awaiting. She threw off her robe and dropped to the floor, spreading the girl's legs, burying her head deep within them, licking and lapping madly at the waiting pussy, devouring it wildly in a close-up view that revealed every crevice, every moistened fold. "Oh, WOW!" Joyce gasped, tensing her body again, "That's really something!" She unconsciously downed the remaining brandy from her glass, more deeply engrossed now in the action of the movie. I decided not to give her a refill . . . I didn't want her getting sick on me. What she'd already consumed was already serving its purpose. Of course, I knew what was coming next. At this point they exchanged positions, the older girl on the couch, the younger one dropping to the floor between her shapely legs, reciprocating in grand fashion. Even though young in years, the girl was displaying a tremendous talent as she duplicated every stroke, every movement that had been administered by her lover.
I unfastened my own robe and let it lie loose around me. I felt Joyce quivering against me, and I knew the movie had now gotten to her, stimulating both her mind and her body. She was now fidgeting restlessly against me and I knew her passions were soaring rapidly along with my own. She suddenly looked over at me, the frenzy gathering in her eyes. "You were right.. . this DOES turn you on.. . "
"I told you it would," I said quickly, my hand falling on her thigh. She was quivering almost out of control now. Then she said the very thing I had been waiting so frantically to hear.
"Would you like to do that to me . . . all over, I mean?" Her voice tapered off almost to a whisper.
'-'You know that I would, don't you?" I said, giving her a gentle squeeze with my hand.
"I really want to make love with you . . . I really do." She was almost pleading with me now, her young body inching tighter against me.
"Before this night is over, honey," I promised her, "we will both have something we'll remember for the rest of our lives."
"Please . . . " she gasped, her breath heavy with lust, "let's do it.. . now!"
I reached over and turned off the projector. Except for the one light I'd left burning across the room, we were engulfed in an atmosphere of semidarkness. My hectic passions began to run rampant as I was suddenly aware that my long-sought dream was at last about to be fulfilled. I couldn't wait a second longer, not even to get rid of my robe. Almost recklessly I lunged into her full round lips, clamping my mouth to them, sucking at them. Her tender burning tongue emerged to meet mine halfway, twisting and turning, searching for instant gratification. It didn't seem possible, but if she'd learned this from Ronnie, she'd learned her lesson well. Already she was meeting me on my own level. Her expertise left nothing to be desired except for the sheer anticipation of the lust-fest that would follow. The heat of her unabashed acceptance of my advances served only to add fuel to the raging inferno within me. In these first opening minutes of the resumption of our torrid activities I became certain that I'd found the one thing that had been missing from the many volumes of the imaginary book of my lusty life. I knew now that I'd never be so completely satisfied with anything or anybody. This was the wrap-up of my search of a lifetime . . . my endless quest for that unexplainable something.
Even without speaking a word, she was able to sense the necessity to prolong this early portion of our performance. Knowing full well the entire night was still ahead of us, there was no specific reason to rush our sensational new activity into a hasty completion. We lingered leisurely, deliciously savoring the silken wetness of two newly acquainted tongues striving to caress and devour each other within the cavities of our carving mouths. Automatically, as if commanded by some central source, her soft little hands gravitated beneath my partially opened robe, coming to rest over the fleshy fullness of my tits. Simultaneously I had duplicated her delightful maneuver, cupping the tenderness of her fragile young breasts within the confines of my anxious palms. Loving caresses and mutual manipulations added torrid stimulation to the nerve centers of our two writhing bodies. I have no idea of the time that might have elapsed during this extended exchange of delirium, but it wasn't important. Time held no possible meaning now. This night had really just begun, but I desperately wanted it to last throughout eternity.
Joyce was clutching at me now, clinging like an erotic leech. Having reached the towering peaks of desire, she was rapidly losing her battle with sanity, unable to control the torrid waves of lust that were wracking her mind and body. She loosened her grip on me, signaling a temporary break as she made her frenzied plea, her eyes begging, her lips quivering. "Don't make me wait any longer . . . please don't make me wait! Do it to me . . . do what the girl in the movie did!"
I didn't have to answer her verbally. She knew damn well I was ready . . . more than ready! My body became a sudden roaring volcano. Her frantic demands for me to go down on her lit the fuse. I'd been waiting for this for so very long. I was ready for her succulent body.
I threw off my robe while she shuffled around to get rid of hers. She didn't have to be told-a single thing. Somehow, she knew all of the right moves. She settled her naked young form back onto the sofa, waiting. The heater was throwing out generous streams of warm comfort toward our bare flesh. I dropped, to my knees before her, urging her to the edge of the sofa, spreading her milk white thighs into close proximity with my anxious mouth. The delicate pinkness of her deliciously tempting pussy lay nestled snugly beneath the soft tuft of fur that surrounded it. I wanted to do a preliminary warm-up, a tongue-teasing of the sensitive areas of the tender thighs, but there wasn't time. Like Joyce, I couldn't wait a second longer. I had to do it right away. Now! I lifted her dainty little ass into the palms of my hands and pulled her into me. The first contact sent a super-erotic shudder through her craving body, a sensation I'll never forget. But it was only the first of a long series that was about to follow. My tongue began to slither recklessly over and around every swollen membrane of her luscious young cunt, absorbing and devouring every drop of delicious moisture she was giving up to me. Her quivering loins began pumping up into my face, keeping pace with my rhythm, begging to be eaten. The taste of her precious fluids of love was something indescribable. I wanted never to stop receiving them. I had to have every last drop of love juice she could release to me. It was the one, the only, way I could show my unfailing love for this precious little girl . . . this heavenly little nympho. Yes, she was indisputably a nymphomaniac. One of my very own kind. I would train her to my ways, and I would love and cherish her till eternity. It could mean putting my entire life on the line, but it would be worth it.
She was now a quivering bundle of passion, thrashing madly about, arching herself into me to receive every varied touch of sensation I was administering to her smoldering young cunt. Now my buring tongue snaked its way deep into her, probing and slipping far into the crevice of lust, coaxing from it additional servings of her delicious fluids of pleasure. No longer able to contain herself, she expelled ecstatic sobs of passion, my eager tongue keeping time with the music of her cries, preparing her for the final crescendo. I wanted this song of love to last well into the night, but I knew now it just wasn't possible. It was soon about to end with a roll of drums, the crash of symbols. So far were we beyond the boundaries of human control that there could be no postponement of this one frantic moment of nature. It was now upon us. Now! The series of hectic spasms began like a rapidly approaching tornado. With the abrupt suddenness of the flicking of a switch, I found my own smoldering pussy ready to explode, responding wildly as a direct result of Joyce's total acceptance of my touches, completely without the aid of any form of actual physical stimulation. I wanted to scream out my cries of joy along with Joyce, but it wasn't possible to relinquish my post now with the rapturous crisis so close at hand. She was doing the vocals for both of us as the magic moment approached. "Oooooh . . . ooooh . . . do it faster! DO IT FASTER . . . I'm comingggg . . . I'm COMMMMMING . . . " I obeyed faithfully, stepping up the pace of my movements to correspond with her frenzied pulsations, urging our two screaming bodies into total ecstatic release. The hectic delirious climax arrived amid the blaring of trumpets and the rolling of drums. Like a million magic bubbles bursting in the air it happened. Then it was over, ending with an extended mutual blissful moan. Our song was finished, the music having drifted into the realms of oblivion. I didn't release myself from her until every pounding, every lingering pulsation had vanished from her tender little body. Only then did I lift myself up to her and take her into my arms. There was a long period of mutual silence before we finally recovered. There was really no need for spoken words. Our thoroughly satisfied bodies were saying it all.
It was minutes before Joyce looked up into my face, her eyes glistening, her voice filled with utter bliss. "I love you, Greta." Her tone was softly emotional, completely sincere. It was all I needed to hear. The word "aunt" had now been eliminated. She had transformed into another totally different being. I knew now that she was finally mine. "Let's make this last forever," I said, drawing her fragile nakedness into my body.
"We will . . . we will . . . I do want you so badly-so very badly . . . " Her words were lost against the warmth of my waiting lips.
She released herself from me, peering wildly into my eyes. "I want to show you now how much I really love you. I've never done it be fore, but I'll try very hard to make you as happy as you've made me..
I knew now that our relationship was going to be thoroughly complete. There could be no remaining doubt about the assurance of its success. Her words filled us both with a replenished sense of warmth and anticipation. She dropped eagerly to her knees in front of me. I was ready to accept whatever she would offer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It wouldn't have been fair of me to expect a lot from Joyce in the way of a professional physical performance. After all, nothing could ever replace the knowledge learned through years of experience. It was almost obvious that apart from her one brief sexual fling with Ronnie, there would have been nothing in her young life to provide her with such know-how. Her probable involvement in youthful masturbation experiences combined with such things as the sex books she'd seen at school could hardly contribute much to her education in matters of this nature. At this tender age there is only so much a person could have learned. I was thoroughly willing to accept this at face value. But I would most certainly teach her the heavenly ways of feminine love. There was no doubt that I possessed all of the qualifications. I would tutor her in every concept of female sexual gratification. She would become proficient, adept at the pleasures of its many ramifications. Then, together we could fill the future with the joys and exploration of total happiness.
As she knelt before me, poised for the things she was craving to do, I drank in the exquisite beauty of her soft young body, the elegance of her very being, the delicate features of her face, the long flowing hair, now disheveled from our recent episode of love. She was all mine now, every inch of her . . . mine. I was determined to respond to her every caress, her every touch, regardless of her lack of physical expertise. Even if it required putting on an unscheduled act, I would afford her the sense of satisfaction that she was rendering me her pleasures to the highest degree. Yes, I would make her feel that she was super, even if it meant feigning some of my pleasure.
She lifted herself up to me now, choosing to apply her initial caresses to my upper body, a preliminary move that I didn't have the time to perform upon her. The very presence of her heavenly young body, the soothing warmth of her breath against my tingling flesh, the gentle touch of her fragile fingers upon me, provided sufficient motivation to kindle the fires of passion rapidly within me. She moved in like, a cautious feline stalking its prey, leisurely and carefully scrutinizing the choice sensitive areas about my face and upper extremities, applying the gentle touches of her luscious moist tongue.
Imitating the girls in the movie, she sucked at my warm, flexible earlobes, teased the delicate surface of my neck, tantalized the smooth flesh of my cheeks, moving restlessly from one point to the next. Already she was beginning to invent new avenues of passion, original methods of deft manipulation, that invoked sensations within my craving body that I'd never had the pleasure of receiving during the entire course of my career. Right off, I could tell from the intricacy of her movements, the administrations of her touches, that she would become a first-rate student under my tutelage. It was obvious that she would learn fast. She had already proven that to me during our earlier episode in the bathroom.
She pulled me into the nakedness of her smooth, warm flesh, her arms circling my body, her fingertips roaming over the sensitivity of skin. She positioned the fullness of her half-opened lips against my mouth, her burning tongue brushing recklessly across my teeth and slithering its way inside to join my own. The unexpected fury of her approach was taking me thoroughly by surprise. Already she had re-ignited the fires that were now burning furiously inside of me, prodding my passions on to new heights. I was aware now that she was taking the initiative completely, taking charge of the performance. I was glad. She was on her own now and that was the way it would be. I would cooperate with her completely, but at this point I would offer no attempt at reciprocation. She would now have complete control of my passion-wracked body.
She moved lower now, alternately touching and teasing and caressing the massive soft mounds of my tits. She lingered over them, savoring their inviting fullness, idly licking and sucking at the resilient hot flesh. It was hard to surmise that this first attempt of her artistry could have been learned during a few brief minutes of a porno film. Somehow she possessed the keen art of prolongation, the momentous sense of value of the important role of extended foreplay necessary to any thoroughly satisfying sexual encounter. If I had any possible doubts about this luscious, lovable little kid, they were now rapidly vanishing with every passing second.
I was trying to make myself believe that this was happening because of my subconscious desire that it would happen this way. It just wasn't so. I was finally aware that I was getting more-much more than I had bargained for.
Joyce continued to work me over with the proficiency of a true professional with that blissful impish smile wreathing her delicate face. Having now keyed my flaming body to the point of uncontrollability, she was now enjoying the reward of her efforts, as my gasps of passion expelled increasingly from the depths of my larynx. On the very brink of sudden ecstatic release, the pulsations of my flaming cunt were growing more frantic, more delightfully intense, and she hadn't even arrived there yet. Of course, I knew she would . . . later. She was now proving to me that she was determined to make this a highly successful first performance. And her success was now so delightfully obvious. My screaming, scorching body was the only evidence needed to attest to Joyce's new-found abilities. The simulated display of passion I had been contemplating earlier was entirely unnecessary now. There was no longer the need to pretend. This was true reality in every sense of the word.
I was hoping to extend this brief phase of her operation just a few moments longer, but it was utterly impossible. The mere idea told me emphatically the attempt would be entirely futile. It was time for my first initial release; my shrieking body demanded it immediately in compliance with the commands of Joyce's expert offerings, in appreciation of her enthusiastic efforts. It was now upon me . . . about to happen . . . now! She increased the speed of her torrid strokes, sensing this moment of payoff. I couldn't stand it a second longer. "Oooooh . . . ooooh . . . ooooh . . . My gasps of pleasure were timed perfectly to the pulsations of my heaving body, my torrid cunt releasing its flood of juices in bursts of spasmodic ecstasy. "Ooooh, my God . . . that was good, honey . . . sooooo GOOD!" Only after I had settled down to complete relaxing stillness did she release her lips from my flesh and peer at me with a wide, triumphant smile. "You really enjoyed that, didn't you?" she said.
"You'll never know how much," I said, pulling her down to kiss her soft young lips.
"I'm so glad," she said, breaking the embrace, "I just love making you happy this way . . . I never knew it could be so.. . so super."
"I do love you, Joyce," I sighed, squeezing her into me, "let's make this go on forever ft
. . .
"We'll work it out, Greta," she said with complete assurance, "of course we will."
Her words were more than beautiful. She was no longer my little niece . . . she was my lover. I pressed my lips to hers again. "We'll go on loving each other forever . . . and ever . . . and ever." My inner passions were soaring again, the hot flesh against flesh once more providing the renewed stimulation. I could sense Joyce's anxiety stirring within her, adding new dimensions to her accumulated lust. Like a psychic phenomenon we were aware of the need to share our bodies in a common cause. Again we were urgently demanding the immediate continuation of this glorious love affair, reaching out for the fulfillment of our delicious pleasures. Then Joyce's soft, little hands were roaming over the roundness of my tits, teasing and caressing, generating new waves of sensation to every fragile nerve center. Her eyes were pools of liquid lust, filled with the love and allure of a contemporary Sappho, as she gazed longingly into my eyes. "I'm going to finish the job now . . . I hope I can make it as good for you as you made it for me. This will be my first time, you know . . . " Her voice trailed off into a sultry whisper as she moved slowly down the length of my body, stopping momentarily to plant a kiss upon the indenture of my navel. Altering the half-circle position she was maintaining, she shifted to the right, her long flowing hair brushing my thighs as she dropped to the floor between my legs. I opened them widely, permitting her easy accessibility, happily willing to cooperate in every possible way to make this occasion for her a truly memorable one.
I could try, but to offer a description of the first sensations of warmth against the sensitive membranes of my labia would be a sheer waste of words. Although this treatment had been applied to me many, many times in the past, I'm sure that more than anything else, it had to be the conscious awareness of the person who was administering the touches that made the difference. Indescribable. It's the only possible word that would fit the occasion.
She moved into me with the dexterity of a true professional, one who'd been over this road innumerable times before, her eager, moist tongue slithering over and prodding into every nook and cranny of my scorching cunt. At the very start, I could see that she was determined to prove her worth to me, to avidly demonstrate in anxious reciprocation the same lusty strokes, the identical loving touches that I had applied to her earlier in our beautiful love-orgy. Once again my body was screaming with joy, shuddering at her torrid touches, accepting them with all the gratitude I could offer. Once more I was rapidly becoming a roaring inferno, aflame with the white heat of my passions. I wanted to pull her into me, to madly obtain every possible glorious fragment of her being, but I strongly resisted the urge. It was Joyce's show now, and I would offer her the courtesy of running it her own way. She would learn faster that way, not that she really had to learn anything. Actually, there was nothing more I could teach her. I don't know how, but she instinctively knew all of the proper moves.
It was totally obvious that she was thoroughly enjoying every moment of her delicious endeavor. She was avidly cherishing these joys as I had cherished them during the administrations of my satisfactions to her during the previous stage of our love-fest. Only this time she was doing all the satisfying. Her sweet young tongue continued its relentless attack upon my pulsating pussy, snaking its way over and across the delicate swollen membranes, flicking and momentarily teasing at the erected clit, driving me to the brink of utter distraction. This, combined with the gentle sweeping of her long, soft hair against my quivering loins added new fuel to my fury, moving me from one ecstatic minor climax to the next, hastily preparing me for the one big moment that was soon to come. Magic fluorescent colors were now flashing recklessly around, me, the accumulation of unseen forces working wildly within my tormented brain, predicting the rapid approach of the sudden blast-off to oblivion. Sensing the nearness of the obvious blissful occurrence, she hastened every lusty movement, every magnetic touch, clutching at me, pulling me into her harder, more ardently, urging from me the total essence of my lust-crazed body. Arched high above the cushion of the sofa, my writhing nakedness suddenly relinquished to her all of the luscious fruits of her concentrated efforts, highlighted by the spasmodic releases of a million heavenly dreams. My series of unending gasps and sighs echoed relentlessly through my screaming body, but were purposely subdued to permit a more sane return to my state of normalcy. I wanted desperately to capture and hold and cherish forever this captivating moment of magic, to preserve it for eternal posterity. I had worked for it, and waited for it, this dream that was now a reality. I would love, honor, and cherish it to my dying day.
Joyce succeeded in making the entire episode thoroughly complete when she drew herself up into my arms and smiled affectionately into my eyes. "I do love you, Greta . . . honestly and truly I love you . . . let's never let this get' away from us."
I couldn't have spoken the words better. I folded her tightly into my arms. "This will be forever, honey, no matter what.. . "
She snuggled her beautiful head deep into the softness of my breasts. She was no longer a little girl. She had now emerged into the fantastic world of womanhood. The warmth of the heater felt nourishing against the relaxed nakedness of our bodies. Together, clamped into the satisfying comfort of each other's arms, we drifted into the tranquil realm of slumber land.
I don't know how long we must have slept, but it really wasn't important. What was important was the totally absurd sight we must have presented to Beth and her boyfriend, Paul Harrison, when they arrived and quietly entered the apartment. The brandy bottle and empty glasses on the coffee table, the porno books, the projector with the partially completed reel of film, the two of us entwined on the sofa, still naked, still disheveled from our love-making. It was Beth's harsh voice that awakened me.
"For God's sake, Greta . . . I don't believe this!"
I struggled to get my eyes open, stirring uncomfortably to find a way to respond to the sudden situation. Joyce awakened and reached for her rob, her face distorted with fright.
"Oh . . . Beth, I.. . I didn't realize the time . . . " What could be said at a time like this? Beth had seen Joyce's boots outside the door and figured something was going on. She'd used her own key to open the door. Now here they were, the melting snow still dripping from their coats, standing there, gaping down at us in complete astonishment. "I just don't believe what I'm seeing!" Her face was reddening with the fury of her discovery. Paul's eyes met mine for a flashing second, the meaning of his surprise requiring no audible statement from him.
"This is utterly embarrassing.. . totally disgusting!" Beth was bursting into a full rage now. "Paul, please go into the other room . . . this is disgraceful!"
Joyce clutched at my arm, trying to find something to say.
"It's all right, honey," I said, "it's all right.. . "
"All right? All right?" Beth was growing more furious, more hostile. "You bitch! You rotten fucking dyke! Cradle robber!" She was struggling for new words-any words that would serve to emphasize her attack upon me.
I reached to the floor for my robe and threw it carelessly around me, helplessly observing her extreme animosity. "I'm sorry you found us this way, Beth . . . truly sorry. But what can I say?"
"I'll say it for you . . . bastard! Bitch!
Dirty fucking whore! Two-timing slut!" She was out of control, groping for words. She looked down at the coffee table, her probing eyes falling upon the porno books. "These . . . did they help you to get into her pants?" She took a single reckless stride toward the table to grab up the books to illustrate her point. The toe of her boot caught the slack in the projector cord yanking it from the table, toppling it onto the unguarded front of the heater, the highly inflammable celluloid film making immediate contact with the cherry-red element of the stove. The tremendous flare-up of flames was instantaneous . . . horrifying! "Oh, my God!" Beth screamed, instinctively kicking the blazing mass of the projector with a sudden frantic sweep of her foot, sending it hurling across the room directly into the base of the drapes. "Paul!" she shrieked, "PAUL . . . DO SOMETHING!" Then we were all pounding and beating at the drapes with anything and everything we could find, the fury of the spreading flames engulfing the entire side of the room. "NO . . . " Paul screamed, "NO . . . IT'S GETTING AHEAD OF US . . . WE'LL NEVER MAKE IT!" He slapped frantically at the leaping wall of fire with a wet towel he'd snatched quickly from the bathroom, but it was fast becoming a losing battle, the flames lapping into the dry, aged wood surrounding the ceilings; the room was now a roaring inferno. I thought of the phone, but it had now been cut off by the path of the rapidly spreading fire as the accumulating density of the smoke began filtering into our lungs. Paul had yanked out his handkerchief and was holding it over his nose and mouth with his left hand while he continued to pound at the flames with the heavy towel in the other. As this same horrifying moment we all became suddenly aware that our efforts were hopeless. "GET OUT!" Paul screamed, "It's no use . . . GET OUT!! ! '" The roaring flames had now worked their way to the entrance area, engulfing the doorway.
There was still time to force our way through the swinging door into the kitchen before the fire caught up with us. I pulled Joyce behind me, attempting a fast entrance into the kitchen area, as Beth and Paul scampered through behind us, coughing and choking, struggling for their breath. The door swung closed, affording us temporary protection from the crackling flames and smoke.
The rapid, almost instantaneous spread of the raging fire was incredible. Once in the kitchen we made a frantic effort toward the door leading to the hall. We were met with the roaring heat and flames that had already eaten into the outer hall, blocking the stairway, shutting off any possible means of escape in that direction. "FIRE! FIRE!" Paul screamed out, trying to alert other tenants in the building. He slammed the door closed to temporarily contain the flames. "THE FIRE ESCAPE!" Paul yelled, reaching over for Beth's hand as he sprang toward the window. Joyce and I followed quickly. A gigantic burst of frigid air bolted in as Paul threw open the sash, bringing with it the heavy granules of sleet that were pelting down rapidly outside, whipped around by the relentless gusts of wind.
Once outside the window, the bitterness of the cold became secondary as we struggled along the grating of the treacherous fire escape, now coated with a layer of clinging ice. There hadn't been time for Joyce and me to put our shoes on, and the cold, blunt bars of grating dug unmercifully into the bottoms of our exposed feet. Looking back, we watched the flames now reaching out from the building, fanned by the drafts entering the opened window, lighting up the night sky into a wicked horrible nightmare. Frantic screams were now echoing violently from the upper floors as others made the desperate attempt to get free from the raging holocaust. They were crowding out onto the fire escape now, shrieking in terror, some of them clinging to precious belongings they wanted desperately to salvage.
Slipping and sliding our way down along the frozen steps, we arrived at the second-floor level after an eternity had passed, the flames now leaping out wildly from the building above us, the hectic confusion growing more desperate with every passing second, the gruesome screams of panic increasing around us. The apartment occupied by Gus, the custodian, was on this level, and I tried to wrack my brain to remember the exact window, to try and warn him in case he was sleeping. Then I saw his head popping out from a window near me and I knew he was aware of the sudden tragedy. The flames had already worked their way into the center of the building, filling the halls with thick, menacing smoke, and Gus was yelling and clambering to make his desperate escape through the window. Paul and Beth had worked their way to the far end of the counterbalanced section of the fire-escape steps that were to drop automatically to the street level under a person's weight. The hinge pins were frozen with solid masses of ice, a result of the recent thaw and subsequent refreezing with the new cold snap. Trapped! Some of the tenants from the lower floors had gotten out safely through the hallways, but now the flames were closing these off rapidly. We were stranded hopelessly, at least twenty feet above the street. I suddenly remembered the coil of rope by the front door entrance . . . if we could only reach it somehow . . . Paul made a sudden heroic dash into Gus's window, grabbed a blanket from the bed, wrapped it around him, and disappeared into the thickening smoke of the hall. Somehow he succeeded in reaching the first floor entrance, for after a couple of hectic minutes he was on the street below us struggling frantically to toss the loose end of the rope up to reach us. After several attempts, I was finally able to grasp it with my half-frozen fingertips and secure it to the icy railing, quickly forming a couple of awkward-looking knots. Screaming sirens in the distance signaled the approach of the first fire engines as we began our dangerous climb over the railing, followed by the hectic slide down the length of the rope, the roughness of its surface digging into the chilled flesh of our hands. I let Beth and Joyce and Gus go down ahead of me, choosing to follow them in the hazardous descent.
Then we were all down on the street, shaken and shivering, retreating to a safer distance, looking up at the extreme horror of the roaring inferno, the upper portion of the building now completely engulfed in fire and flame, illuminating the night sky for miles around. Joyce and I struggled to keep our bare feet in motion against the frozen street, the numbness now working up into our legs. The screaming tenants streamed their way down the icy fire escape, grasping for safety in their turbulent escape attempt, waiting their turn at the rope, their combined weight presenting a distinct menace to the durability of the old apparatus.
The onslaught of the shrill sirens and flashing red lights presented an awesome sight as they began emerging on the scene. Raging so far out of control now, it was obvious that they could do nothing to save the old building. It would be mostly a matter of evacuating the terrorized occupants and preventing the spreading of the fire to nearby structures. The long extension ladders had now reached to the areas of the fire escape, and it appeared that most of the tenants had gotten safely outside. It was almost certain that there would be casualties in a disaster of this magnitude, but I was desperately hoping they would be kept to a minimum. Somehow I would have to feel responsible since it had all started in my own apartment. I really couldn't blame Beth. Even though she was displaying her fit of rage when the whole thing happened, it was still strictly an accident.
And now everything was gone . . . everything I own destroyed, and burned into oblivion. The sickening revelation carried deep into the pit of my stomach. It was the dreadful feeling of a helpless, deserted orphan, as the bitter cold night wind pelted the sleet against my shivering body, still clad in nothing but my tattered robe, the only remaining stitch of clothing I now had to my name. Joyce still remained steadfastly at my side amidst all the excitement, as she stood half-frozen like myself, shivering and shaking with only the protection of the flimsy robe to cover her cold, fragile body. I pulled her close to me, trying to provide her with a little warmth. She was looking up at me, her soiled little face twisted with fright, tears emerging from her fearful eyes. "This is terrible . . . terrible!" I could only nod my acknowledgment of her statement over the shrill sounds of the excitement around us, the shouting firemen, water spurting from hoses, the hum of the crowd. Tears filled my own eyes as I watched the horrid flames consume the remainder of everything I had ever owned.
Beth and Paul had moved to a spot behind us, observing the terrifying activities. I knew now that things would never be the same between Beth and me. I had deceived her, and I couldn't blame her for hating me. Following this tragic turn of events, there would be nothing I could do to make tilings right with her again. I knew that now.
I was deeply engrossed in the hectic distractions around me when I felt the tap on my shoulder. "I won't turn my back on you now," Beth said, her eyes filled with confusion, "you'll need someplace to go . . . you and Joyce can come home with me till you know what you're going to do."
I can't ever remember not having an answer to give to anyone, but I couldn't think of a thing to say. Maybe it was the sudden chaos in my groggy brain, or maybe it was just that I didn't expect this from Beth now.
"I.. . I don't want to be any bother to you, Beth, I . . . " The words didn't want to emerge from between my chattering teeth.
"It's just for now . . . you can work the rest out later." Her eyes were showing a mixture of anger and sympathy.
"I couldn't expect you to make an offer like this after what's happened," I said, the words drifting off into the noise of a screaming siren.
"I'm through with you, Greta, and I guess you know it. But I won't forsake you at a time like this. I'll have Paul drive us back."
I wanted to reach over and pat her hand, but there was no longer that sort of communication between us now. Beth looked down at Joyce and merely shook her head. The meaning was obvious.
It appeared now that the struggling crews of firemen had finally started to bring the roaring flames under control. Ambulances whisked casualties into the vehicles and streaked off into the night, the flashing lights fading away with the eerie sounds of the sirens. Police patrol cars dashed about in an effort to keep things under control. Volunteers and patrolmen worked to hold back the throng of spectators that had gathered rapidly, to assure the firemen of sufficient working space. Flashbulbs intermittently lighted the area as photographers strived to visually record this spectacular event.
So many things were rushing through my head now. How many casualties would there be when everything was over and the damage tabulated? What would be the total monetary loss? This would be so very difficult to calculate. I was wondering about Gus. What would his future be now? I knew he got safely out ahead of me, so I could assume he was all right. All of the tenants would be without housing now . . . there would probably be temporary shelters set up in some of the municipal buildings for them. I was thinking now about my car, buried deep beneath the rubble in the apartment garage, Within the short span of the hour just passed, my life had been torn to shreds. I was too frozen, too exhausted, too distraught to even think about it now. The reign of sudden pandemonium, the horrid strain of this night of terror was numbing my already overburdened, clouded brain.
There were many, many decisions to be made now, the establishment of entirely new life ahead of me. I couldn't dwell on it any longer. Maybe a night's rest would somehow clear my -thinking enough to enable me to get something started in the right direction.
The question right now was whether or not to accept Beth's offer. It was such an extremely awkward situation now. But Joyce and I needed someplace to stay, and it was one hell of a night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Not more than ten minutes had passed when Joe Barnes emerged from the milling crowd and rushed up to me, excited and out of breath.
"Are you all right, Greta?" His anxious face showed the sudden relief he felt when he saw me. "For Christ's sake, what happened?" The news of the fire had spread as rapidly as the fire itself.
"I'm okay, Joe . . . I got out all right . . He watched as I pulled the robe tighter around me.
"My God . . . you two will freeze like this!" He was looking down at Joyce as she clung to my arm, shivering, also so scantily clad in her soiled robe. Both of us were struggling to keep our feet in motion, trying to provide a little circulation.
"Everything's gone, Joe . . . everything!" I was fighting to conceal my tears.
"You're safe . . . that's the important thing," he said quickly.
The sleet continued to drive into our faces, hitting with a heavy sting against the numbed surface of our skin.
"My car is parked just down the street," Joe said, "and it's still warm. Come on . . " He grabbed my arm and the three of us headed toward the car. As I passed by Beth I hesitated briefly to let her know where we were going. She looked over and saw Joe, so there was no further explanation needed. She was still shaken and confused from her experience, but the look of hate hadn't left her face.
The warmth of Joe's car was such a soothing relief to our half-frozen bodies. He started the engine, keeping the heater going at full blast. In a few minutes we had returned to a near-normal state of being, having nearly recovered from the merciless pangs of the frigid cold. "You need hot coffee . . . something to warm you up inside," Joe said.
"My brain is so numb right now . . . I'm so mixed up I don't know what I need, Joe," I told him.
"You two can stay at my place tonight if you like," he said, "I've got plenty of room."
Joyce had remained silent in the back seat, enjoying the warmth of the car. "I'd like to go home," she said, "I'd really like to go home
"But your folks are still away, honey. We couldn't get into the house.. . "
"We keep a key hidden outside," she said quickly, "I know where it is.. . "
This would certainly be a solution to our problem. We needed clothing, and Joyce had plenty at home. I could borrow some of her mother's things to hold me over. "If that's what you want to do, I'll drive you over," Joe said. He put the car into gear and headed into the street. I had to look back once more as we pulled away. It was a sickening sight, the floodlights of the emergency vehicles aimed on the smoking remains of what had provided me satisfying comfort and shelter for a fair segment of my lifetime. Nothing now but a mere smoldering shell . . . a memory. It was like the death of an old, close friend. I was too disheartened, too sick to cry. I couldn't bear to look a second longer. My only thought now was to get away from it all, as far away from this nightmare as I could possibly get. I turned my head toward the front of the car again, watching the lights of the street approach and disappear behind us, trying to put it all out of my mind. "It'll take a long time to forget this, Greta," Joe said, "but you'll do it." I couldn't answer him verbally. I'm sure I would have choked on the words. He reached over and patted my hand. "If you need anything, you know I'll be here to help." Statements like this, at a time like this, makes a person more acutely aware of the meaning of true friendship.
"Thanks Joe," I said, trying to smile.
We reached Joyce's place about twenty minutes later. "I'll wait and see that you get in all right before I leave," Joe said, leaving the engine running. As I reached for the handle of the door, he extracted his wallet from his pocket. A few seconds later he was shoving a fifty-dollar bill into my hand. "Here . . . you'll need this to hold you over for a day or two . . . bus fare and things."
"Oh Joe, I.. . "
"Take it," he insisted, "it's only a loan. You can pay it back when things get back to normal."
I did need it badly at the moment, and I was grateful for Joe's generosity. "I have to pick up my pay at the office tomorrow, and I've got some money in the bank . . . I'll see that you get it right back."
"Give me a call and let me know what you're going to do," Joe said before I closed the door.
Joyce reached up to a little ledge beyond the porch post and brought down the spare door key. We would have presented quite a curious picture to any prying neighbors who might have seen the two of us, clothed only in flimsy house robes on a night as wicked as this. Fortunately it was dark and the only illumination came from a single post-lamp near the gate. Joyce fumbled to find the keyhole and I heard the latch snap open. She flicked the switch on inside the door, and in the light of the doorway I turned and signaled a little farewell to Joe in the car. A little beep of his horn told me he'd gotten the message. Then he was on his way down the street.
Inside the house, we heated water and made hot chocolate to help thaw the remaining chills from our nerve-wracked bodies. Totally exhausted from the horrors of all we'd been through, we dropped into chairs at opposite sides of the dinette table and began to sip our hot drinks, both of us soiled and disheveled from the terrifying ordeal. "This should calm us down, honey," I said to Joyce. The strain of the horrible experience was showing clearly on her fragile young face, so tender and beautiful even beneath the array of marks and smudges that covered it. "What will you do now?" she asked sympathetically. "Will you be coming here to live with us?" -
"Let's not even talk about it now," I said, "I'm going to need some time to get myself together."
Joyce was silent for a moment. "I was really scared sliding down that rope," she said suddenly, "it really gave me the willies."
"It's amazing what a person can do when her life depends on it," I told her.
I was suddenly realizing that she had returned to her role as my lovable little niece. There was no inkling of the recent ties that had bonded us together back in my apartment, no mention of the joys we had shared. It was almost like it had never happened. With all that had taken place, with the horror that had befallen us, it was now the furthest thing from our jumbled minds.
"We both need a good night's rest," I told Joyce. "We'll get ourselves cleaned up, hunt up some decent clothes for tomorrow, and hit the sack."
"Sounds super-okay," she agreed with a hearty sigh, "I'm bushed."
We took our turns in the shower, the warmth of the water providing the comforting rejuvenation we were so badly in need of. Joyce hunted out the clothes she would wear to school tomorrow. The things she'd worn to my apartment, along with the ones in the case she'd brought along, had gone up in flames along with everything else. I was suddenly remembering that she never did get to her homework. But that didn't matter now. It would have only gone along with her school books. At least she would have a legitimate excuse now, since Joe, her teacher, knew the complete story. -
From the closet in her mother's bedroom we found one of Ruth's pantsuits that would be suitable for me to wear. Being close to her same size, it would fit me well enough until I could buy some new ones. I tried on an extra pair of her shoes which fitted with reasonable comfort. I was sure that under the circumstances Ruth would not have objected to my borrowing her things.
Joyce went into her room and slipped into her sleeping pajamas, returning in a few minutes. "You can use mother's bed," she said, "It's comfortable and you'll get a good night's rest."
"Thanks honey, I guess your mom won't mind." The word "comfortable" was music to my ears. She reached up and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Goodnight. . . sleep tight," she said.
"Goodnight; honey." I reached out and pulled her into my arms. "Thanks Joyce," I said, "thanks for being so understanding." She smiled broadly, sympathetically, as she entered her room. Once again she was a lovely little niece. So tender and innocent.
I switched off the rest of the lights and headed into Ruth's bedroom.
The comfort of the bed was heaven to my anguished mind and body. The gruesome events of the past few hours were surging relentlessly through my brain, replaying their gory details into my ears, violently reminding me that it all really did happen. Again I was realizing that within the scope of a few hours my entire life had been turned inside-out, upside-down. You have to wonder why this sort of thing should occur. Why me? And how does one cope with situations such as this? Perhaps with tact.
Or more so, determination. Taurian determination. It had pulled me over many a hump in the past, it could surely see me through another crisis. I hadn't seen today's newspaper, but I wondered what my horoscope might have called for. Disaster. Could this rotten damnable thing have been in my stars? It didn't matter anyway. Not now. It was all over and done with.
The biggest thing I'd now be facing would be the obvious repercussions that were sure to follow. There could be no avoiding them. Of that I was certain. With Beth now stirred into a veritable beehive of hostility, our relationship now completely demolished, her first move would be to get to Carl Rhoades and give him the entire story of how she found Joyce and me together. This would naturally result in my automatic dismissal from my job at the office. It would almost be a sure bet. My next major concern would center around the possibility of Carl informing Charles and Ruth about the incident. Knowing his nasty disposition at times like this, I could never be certain that he wouldn't. And if Carl wouldn't blow the whistle, Beth probably would. There were other things I'd have to think about.. . a place to live, replacing the belongings I'd lost, the insurance claims that sometimes take so long to settle. But I wouldn't dwell on them anymore tonight. It was time to get some much-needed rest. I reached over and set the alarm for seven-thirty. Tomorrow would be another day. And I hope a lot better than this one had been . . . a hell of a lot better.
Morning came all to soon, but I won the struggle to reach over and silence the boisterous alarm. I must have slept soundly, for I had no recollection of anything after I'd finally closed my eyes for the night. There hadn't even been the hint of a nightmare . . . I'd had them all yesterday. I rubbed the remaining sleep from my half-opened eyes and made the final big effort to drag my body from the bed. The only thing favorable about the day so far was the appearance of the sun filtering generously into the room. Apparently the storm system had moved off to the coast.
I was up before Joyce, so I searched the cupboards and the refrigerator and came up with a variety of things to prepare us a quick breakfast. We ate hastily, dressed, and prepared to leave. Joyce loaned me an extra purse her mother had used previously, and we gathered up a few cosmetic items from the bathroom to see me through the day. The taxi I'd phoned for arrived at the same time as Joyce's school bus, so we left the house at the same time.
Some twenty minutes later I arrived at the office. My first minor problem came up when I realized I had nothing but a fifty-dollar bill to pay my cab fare. Naturally, the driver couldn't change it. He waited while I dashed into the first floor news stand of the building to pick up the morning paper. Reluctantly, after some hasty bickering, they were able to make my change. I paid my fare and reentered the lobby, lingering momentarily to get a preliminary glance at the front page of my paper.
The headlines stood out in extra bold type: "SPECTACULAR FIRE DESTROYS ANCIENT LANDMARK." A large photograph of the gutted building was mute evidence of the tragedy. It made me sick to my stomach. Most of the sub-headlines that spread over the front page concerned the fire, with side-notes referring the reader to additional news and pictures further back in the paper. I was relieved to see that most of the tenants had gotten out safely with few injuries and that there had been a minimum of casualties.
The chief topic of the day was naturally the fire and the concern of my coworkers for my well-being. Newspapers were spread out over desks with everyone eager to read the details of the spectacular event. I was bombarded with questions from every angle, becoming the center of attraction, holding the spotlight of their curiosity. The cause of the fire hadn't been determined, and there would be no point in me making it known. This would have to remain a private, personal matter.
Carl's obvious tardiness this morning was beginning to send little pangs of anxiety through me. He was usually very prompt in arriving at the office on time. I could almost sense the reason for his delay. Approximately twenty minutes late, I saw him enter the door and remove his coat and hat in the vestibule. Seriousness was written all over his face, but I pretended I didn't see him come in. It was a full three or four minutes before he reached the far side of the office where we had all gathered. There was something noticeably different about his voice when he finally spoke to me. "I heard about the fire . . . too bad." It was all he had said before turning and walking away. The others seemed to notice his attitude of cold indifference. We went about the business of organizing the day's activities. It was about five minutes later that he called me over to his desk. I tried to break the fixed expression on his face. "I'm the one who should have been late this morning . . . " I said, waiting for his reaction.
"I had a phone call before I left home," he said, staring bitterly into my eyes, "it held me back a bit."
"Oh?" I waited.
"Someone you know . . . " He kept his eyes fixed on mine. I knew what he was going to say next, so I beat him to the punch.
"Beth," I said.
"Beth," he repeated. He began slowly shaking his head to illustrate his obvious disgust. "Did I hear her right? Is it true what she told me?"
"It depends on what she told you." I said quickly.
"Your young niece and you . . . I think you know what I'm talking about." His face was reddening, growing more tense.
"I don't know exactly what Beth might have said, but there wouldn't be any point in my denying it, I guess." I decided to hold my ground, returning his stare.
"I always knew you were weird, but this . . . " He swung his head back and forth to emphasize his disbelief. "You know damned well how I feel about these things . . . it's happened here before."
I knew he was trying to humiliate me, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "You know, Carl," I said, "a person's private life should remain his own . . . there should be no reason for outside interference." It was becoming obvious to the others that our heated conversation had nothing to do with a discussion of the fire.
"I can't see any reason to pursue this any further," Carl said as he leaned forward, "you've done a fair job here for me, but I refuse to have a lesbian on my payroll.. . it's as simple as that!"
"Then you're saying..
"Yes, I'm asking you to leave," he said firmly, "You'll have to make some changes now anyway.. . it's as good a time as any."
It wasn't as though I hadn't been expecting it. But a thing like that still comes as a sudden blow. I decided I should have one more swing of the bat before I struck out in this final ball-game. "Okay, Carl," I said hastily, "since Beth has so nobly succeeded in getting me fired, and since this seems to be the day for handing out surprises, I've got one for you . . . " He leaned back in his chair and listened.
"Your little angel-friend, Beth, is also a lesbian. Up until yesterday's incident, she and I had been lovers for longer than you'd care to remember. How does that grab you?"
He was too stunned to speak. He did manage to give his confused head a few more shakes in disbelief. At least I had gotten in my final blow. It gave me a hell of a good feeling inside, and I hadn't felt many such things lately. "I'll get my things together," I said as I left his desk and headed toward mine.
The office crew was naturally curious when they saw me clearing out my desk. I've never experiencing so many mixed emotions in my life. I skirted the issue by telling them it was a long, long story, and they'd soon learn all of the details. My only thought at the moment was to get the hell out of there as fast as I possibly could. I finished up the loose ends of my chores and collected my paycheck. Twenty minutes later I was in a coffee-shop up the street pondering over my next move.
The private little booth afforded me a quiet haven to linger over my problems and try to find some direction in which to turn. Now facing the stark reality that I no longer had a place to live, that I hadn't a stitch of clothing to my name, that I no longer had a job, it would be a gross understatement to say that my immediate situation was somewhat grim. My pay check combined with the money Joe Barnes had loaned me would help to get things moving for the moment. I had enough savings in the bank to replenish my wardrobe and pay for my temporary room and board. I would deal with the situation on a first-things-first basis. I could go shopping for clothes tomorrow when I went to get my insurance claims started. Today I would have to arrange for a-place to stay. Charles and Ruth would certainly welcome v me there, but there would be the constant threat of them discovering the truth about my relationship with Joyce. Since Beth had been steamed enough to spill the beans to Carl, there would always be the possibility that she'd get to them sooner or later. I wouldn't want to be a resident in their home if and when it happened.
There would be old reliable Joe Barnes, of course. Being a bachelor with his own little apartment, he'd surely find room to fit me in for a while. And he did offer to do anything he could to help. He'd always been that kind of a guy down through the years. I could count on, him now.
I killed some more time over my second cup of coffee. At the moment I had plenty of it to spare. It wasn't long before the noon lunch hour crowd started drifting into the place. It would be time for Joe to be taking his lunch break between classes at the school. If I timed it right I'd probably be able to reach him by phone at the principal's office before he went to the cafeteria. Once I was assured of Joe's approval of putting me up for a while, I could plan my afternoon from there. I could shop around town for some of my immediate needs, then take a cab to his place when it was time for him to arrive home.
My call was timed perfectly, this being the first thing I'd done right all day. Joe had been very receptive to the idea. I knew before I made the call that it would be alright. Again I was thinking how nice it was to have friends like Joe.
I stepped out of the phone booth and paused momentarily, trying to decide what was next on my agenda. It suddenly occurred to me that Joyce would be arriving home after school. I'd promised Ruth I would look after her while they were gone. With the improvement in the weather again, they would probably arrive back home today if things worked out well in Springfield. If they would have left early this morning, they just might have gotten in by now. I could phone the house and find out. I came up with another dime and reentered the phone booth.
It was after the fourth ring that Ruth answered. "My God, Greta.. . where are you?"
"I'm calling from a phone booth," I said, "when did you get home?"
"Just twenty minutes ago . . . " She was filled with anxiety. "I saw the papers . . . the fire.. . are you all right? Is Joyce.. . ? "
"Everything's all right, Ruth, I sent Joyce off to school. It was a hell of a thing . . . I've been completely wiped out."
"Oh, that's terrible!" Ruth said.
"I had to borrow a few of your clothes, Ruth . . . I hope you don't mind."
"Of course I don't . . . you know it's all right." She had so many questions to fire at me now. "Greta, how did it all happen? What.. . " I had to interrupt her.
"Ruth, there's so much to tell you, I couldn't possibly do it over the phone. I'm sure Joyce will fill you in till I see you."
"You'll need a place to stay," she said quickly, "you can come here until you get settled."
"I've already made arrangements. Joe Barnes insisted that I take his spare room. Thanks a million, though . . . I really appreciate it."
"Oh," she said, "but you know you're welcome."
"Thanks again, Ruth. I'll be over to see you and Charles as soon as I get straightened around . . . I've so much to tell you." I cut the conversation short. I could have gone on for hours giving her the details, but there were others waiting to use the phone.
I spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for some of the essentials that I would need to hold me over for the immediate future. I replaced the necessary cosmetics I'd lost in the fire. I purchased enough suitable new clothes to see me through until I had time to take a more complete shopping tour. A new purse completed the unwritten list of items I'd compiled on the spur of the moment. When I'd finally finished I was pooped beyond words. I salvaged enough energy to drag myself into the nearby liquor store to pick up a bottle of bourbon. Maybe it would help to release some of my pent-up tensions, boost my badly deteriorated morale, when I got back to Joe's apartment. I could sure as hell use it. Nobody but myself could possibly know how much I really needed it.
CHAPTER NINE
The cab dropped me off at Joe's place around five-thirty. Joe had already gotten home and was preparing a light meal for the two of us. I'd planned to bring some food back with me, but I didn't know yet what he needed. It wasn't until Joe had placed a few things on the table and poured our coffee that I suddenly realized that I was faced with another problem. With the hectic chain of events that had taken place, it hadn't crossed my clouded mind until now. I'd have to tell Joe I'd been fired today. The obvious question to follow would be "why?" He'd never known about my relations with other females, principally because there had been no specific reason to tell him. He might have suspected that something had been going on between Beth and myself. But . . . Joyce! I'd been able to conceal my avid interest in her up until now. But now I was faced with the task of telling the truth about the matter. If it were anyone else but Joe, Fm sure I wouldn't have known where or how to begin. Knowing him as the broad-minded individual he had always been, he might just take the matter with a grain of salt. I knew I had no alternative. I had to tell him the truth.
I seated myself at the table as Joe dropped his big frame into the chair across from me. "Well, how did everything go today?" He asked casually.
"You had to ask, didn't you?" I said. "I imagine it was rough, the questions and all.. . "
"Worse than that," I said quickly. "Worse?" He was lifting his cup to his lips. "I was fired."
He put the cup down again without touching its contents. "Fired? You've got to be kidding."
"No kidding, Joe. Carl fired me this morning." Then came the obvious question.
"But . . . why?" He narrowed his eyes and waited for my answer.
"I guess this hasn't been one of my better weeks so far . . . " I said, as I tested the temperature of my coffee with my fingertip.
"Tell me, Greta," Joe asked, "what really happened?"
"Okay, Joe, if you insist . . . I've got to tell you anyway. But I hope you're going to understand . . . "
He was more curious than ever now. "What is there to understand?"
"A lot," I said quickly, "a hell of a lot."
"Try me.. . " Joe said.
"I'll try to break it to you gradually . . . " I began, "Carl hates lesbians.. . "
"Oh?" He took a long, slow sip of his coffee.
"You know, Joe, I've always been a very sexual person.. . you know that."
Joe smiled generously. "Sex is just an indication of good health," he said, "and you can't blame a person for wanting to be healthy."
Right off, it seemed like he was trying to make it easier for me to relate to him.
"Beth and I have been seeing each other for a long time, if you know what I mean."
"Go on.. . " Joe said.
"While Joyce's parents were away, she was staying with me. Before the fire last night Beth came in and found us together.. . "
"Joyce . . . ? " Joe was stunned at the revelation.
"It was just one of those things, Joe. You understand, don't you?"
"Yeah . . . sure." I was surprised at the way he was accepting it.
"To make a long story short," I continued, "Beth was raving mad, told the whole story to Carl, and Carl fired me."
"The dirty bastard!" Joe said.
"Now that I've got that over with, I feel a hundred pounds lighter," I said "Thanks, Joe. Thanks for your understanding."
Joe shook his head. "Shit! When it rains, it really pours."
"For me it's been a cloudburst." I said.
We both made a feeble attempt to finish eating, but our discussion had made it become secondary. I took a cigarette from my pack and lighted it. Then there was a brief silence, and I could tell that Joe was thinking.
"What are you going to do now?" He asked.
"I haven't had time yet to think about it, Joe. Maybe take off for some far-away place, get a new job, start a new life . . . I'm not an old woman yet, you know."
"Of course you're not," Joe said quickly.
"All I know right now is . . . I'd like to get so goddamned far away from here . . . " Joe interrupted when he saw me getting so riled up.
"You don't have to make any spur-of-the-moment decisions, Greta . . . you'll work something out."
"Sure I will, Joe.. . of course I will."
"The best thing to do is to put the whole shit-tin' mess out of your mind for a while . . . you've been through a hell of a lot."
"Right. That's just what I intend to do."
"We won't mention it again tonight. Agreed?"
"Agreed," I said.
Joe looked over and saw the fifth of bourbon I'd placed on the counter when I came in. "What's the occasion?" he asked, a sly grin developing on his face.
"Something to relax me," I said, smiling at him, "don't you think I deserve it?"
"You sure as hell have earned it," he said.
"I'll be glad to share it with you after while," I said, "it's the least I can do to show my appreciation for your hospitality.", "You've got yourself a deal," he said, his lip curling to the side as he winked at me.
I helped Joe clear off the table and clean up the few dishes. Joe reached for the newspaper and opened it to the pictures of the fire. They dominated the front page along with the story of this biggest event in the area in many years. "I don't even want to see it," I said.
"That's right.. . I forgot," Joe said, folding it and putting it back on the table. "We agreed not to mention it anymore tonight. I'll save it for later."
While Joe went about his task of grading some class papers for his students, I organized my things into the new purse I'd gotten. I remained quiet while Joe did his work, but the silence only stimulated my thoughts again. I fought to eliminate everything from my mind, every major and minor occurrence that had taken place over the past two days. It became a frantic internal struggle, like a war raging inside my brain, with myself winning some of the battles and the opposing forces winning just as many. I knew it would take more than just plain effort to overcome this wretched. fight within me. New measures were now required to wipe this whole shittin' mess away, something to immediately remove me from this ridiculous aura of human misery. The bourbon. I was suddenly so glad I'd had the foresight to stop for it on the way here.
Joe had just finished his work and was putting his things in his briefcase when I went over and twisted the cap from the bottle. "I'll have that drink now," he said, getting up from his chair.
"Coming up . . . " I said as I reached for a couple of glasses.
"Make mine a double . . . on the rocks," Joe said with a gesture of his hand.
The refrigerator yielded a generous supply of ice cubes. I dropped some ice into the glasses and poured generously over them from the bottle. We clinked glasses and took a healthy swig from them. "This will do you a lot of good, Greta," Joe said, "it'll help you to relax."
"I've needed this more than at any time in my whole life, Joe." The liquor left a trail of pleasing warmth as it followed the path into my throat. It called for additional pleasing sips, each followed by the next, and each depleting the contents of our glasses. The stuff was beginning to have a profound effect in my bloodstream and I'm sure Joe was feeling similar things. He grabbed up the bottle and dish of ice. "Come on," he said, "we might as well go in where it's more comfortable."
We entered the living room and dropped ourselves onto the couch, Joe placing the ice and bourbon on an end table adjoining it. He immediately gave us a refill, dropping considerably the level of the fluid in the bottle. I could tell by the familiar silly grin on Joe's face that his drinks were getting to him fast. And mine were now doing the same thing. "You were right, Joe," I said, "this is just what I've needed."
"Then it's working all right," Joe said. "Like a charm," I said.
"What's it doing for you?" he asked, grinning.
"It's heading right down to my pussy." I made a little circular motion with my finger.
"I guess we'll have to do something about that." Joe's big smile reached from ear to ear.
I reached over and patted the growing bulge in his pants. "Looks like it's doing something for you too." He didn't answer. We both took another drink from our glasses. With the liquor now surging through my veins, the mention of sex was all that was needed to set me afire. It was like my throbbing cunt was down there demanding the release of my pent-up tensions, the total liberation of my tortured emotions. I knew Joe was ready and I sure as hell was ready. I sat my drink on the floor by the couch and looked into Joe's hazy eyes. "We've had lots of sex together, Joe, but tonight let's fuck each other to death.. . "
"You really got it bad," Joe said, his big smile widening again.
"Real bad, Joe . . . real bad!" I reached over again and slowly lowered his zipper, releasing that familiar magnificent hunk of meat. "I've been saving this for dessert," I said as I lowered my head to meet it.
Joe exhaled a big relaxing sigh and settled back onto the couch, spreading his legs to allow me full access to the area between them. A second gasp of pleasure came when I took the throbbing cock with a single maddening gulp, not stopping until I could feel its hot, spongy head snugly nudging the membranes of my tonsils. The warmth of his half-erected organ inside my hungry mouth was as comforting as the liquor that had instigated the action. Without further motion for the moment I clamped my mouth down on it, savoring its receptive appreciative throbs, tasting its wholesome goodness as it continued to grow. "Suck it, baby," Joe pleaded, "suck it good . . . " I obeyed, beginning first with long, slow sweeps of my ambitious hot tongue, licking and caressing it, engulfing its hardened length deep into the moistness of my craving mouth. Maybe it was the brand of the liquor, or maybe my frantic search for the total abandon of my troubles, but I wanted Joe's massive cock deep inside every orifice of my body. I wanted it more than any time in my life. I was determined that now, this very night, I would provide Joe with a fuck and suck-fest far surpassing anything either of us had ever experienced.
Having given Joe the initial sampling of what was to follow, I released myself from him to permit us to shed every piece of clothing from our sex possessed bodies. With the liquor now doing its appointed job, releasing any remaining particle of inhibition within us, we were ready to proceed into the wonderful world of total lust. Hastily I decided on the plan I would follow for the coming events. I'd received Joe's first offering into my starving mouth. This way, when I was ready to take him into the rest of me, it would be sure to prolong the fun. I wanted him to fuck me into kingdom come.
Joe took his original position on the couch and I lowered myself to him as before. He reached under me from the rear, placing his probing fingers at the entrance of my hot, wet cunt, and began his slow, lingering caresses over and across its throbbing moistness. I swept over and around the swollen glans of his rigid love-pole with my anxious tongue, brushing it with saliva, teasing its sensitive nerve centers. Joe was breathing heavy now, urging me into more intense action. I took the entire length of the magnificent morsel into my burning mouth, administering long, slow lingering movements as I gradually increased the speed of my strokes. Joe's increased finger motions between my thighs were bringing me ecstatically close to the magical brink of release. We both sensed the inevitable approach of the big moment as we simultaneously hastened our movements upon each other's pulsating organs. "Go on!" Joe gasped, "Keep it going . . . this is it! This isss . . . ittttt!" His voice died away with the foundering spasmodic releases of his smooth, hot juices of love. I slowed my pace upon him, accepting every last delicious drop into the final denouement.
We allowed ourselves a brief period of recovery clamped into each other's arms. The dark hair of Joe's wide chest brushed against my tits as we kissed, creating brand new sensations within my already screaming body. "You're the greatest, Greta," Joe said, "the absolute greatest."
"You've got me as hot as a firecracker, Joe" I told him as I reached down and wrapped my hand around his now-flaccid organ.
"You want another drink?" Joe asked. He was now cupping his hands over my heaving tits.
"No, Joe," I said quickly, "I just want you to fuck me . . . all over." I began stroking his cock, bringing new life back into it again, coating it into a renewed erection.
"You sure as hell don't waste any time . . . do you?" he said.
"I've got to have it . . . now!" I said. I got up and turned around, bending over the arm of the couch. "Fuck me, Joe.. . in my ass."
He hesitated for a brief moment. "Whatever you say . . . " He got up, stroking his cock rapidly to assure a more sturdy hard-on. It was proof positive that the drinks were instrumental in causing him to deviate from the norm. Never in his life would Joe ever break his tradition and fuck a girl via the rear-door method.
I spit on my fingers, reaching around to moisten the entrance for him. "Now, Joe . . . right now."
He moved up behind me and positioned the hardened love-tool against the rear entrance to my waiting body. The initial penetration was slow and cautious, hurting, yet feeling so good. He made every effort to be gentle, to afford me the beautiful combination of pain and pleasure. With the partial insertion now made, I was brimming over with anticipation. I had to have Joe Barnes's big cock deep within my bowels, to feel the sudden release of his streams of gism inside my throbbing ass. I gave him my total cooperation, backing into his gentle thrusts, positioning myself to him to provide the best possible connection. Every probing inch of cock sent new thrills through my half-drunk body, which was crying out for complete insertion now. I felt the heat of Joe's breath against my back as his efforts paid off with a final loving thrust into me, his flopping testicles banging into the sensitive area beneath my neglected pussy. Once again we were caught up in the throes of sudden passing, our two screaming bodies welded together, demanding the immediately results of our efforts. Joe tightened his hands around my hips, pulling me back into him with a final maddening thrust. "Now," he gasped, "NOWWWWW!" My own climax was timed perfectly to the spasmodic bursts of love-cream that he released so generously into my throbbing rectum. The sensation was utterly magnificent. Joe waited until his erection had subsided before withdrawing it from its darkened cavern.
We fell onto the couch again, puffing to regain our breath. Joe looked at me for a brief second and smiled. "You weren't kidding when you said we were going to fuck each other to death," he said.
"Of course I wasn't kidding," I said. "And it's not over yet.. . "
Joe had a curious look in his bleary eyes. "You mean . . . there's more?"
"There's more," I said, "But first, let's have another drink."
"Yeah," Joe said, reaching for the bottle, "we need another drink." He salvaged some un-melted ice cubes from the dish and dropped them into our glasses, covering them with a generous new supply of bourbon. His hand was I shaky as he poured from the bottle. He handed my glass to me and we went to work on the contents at once. We had now consumed enough of the fire-water that our exchanges of conversation didn't make much sense. The more Joe drank, the sillier the grin became on his face.
"Y'know, Greta," he smiled, slurring his words, "you're a fuckin' sex maniac."
I laughed. "Nympho-maniac," I corrected, "but I guess it's the same thing. Can you think of anything better to be?"
"I won't even try," he said, taking another drink from his glass.
Even the word "sex" was stirring up my juices again. I guess there's no doubt about it . . . I truly am a sex maniac. And now here I am . . . ready to go again. I had enough of my senses left to realize that if I didn't act at once, Joe would be too damn drunk to do the job. There was still one more phase of our orgy to be completed. I wanted Joe's big, fat juicy cock inside my sobbing cunt. I wanted him to fuck me in the regular good old-fashioned way. Then, and only then, could I chalk this night up as the thoroughly enjoyable one I had intended it to be. And it sure as hell was making me forget my troubles.
Joe was silly enough now that I knew he'd try just about anything. I harbored thoughts about getting him to go down on me, something he'd religiously sworn he'd never do. I dismissed the thought, knowing it would only end in disappointment. He'd never in a million years be able to satisfy me as Beth had done. And Joyce. Beautiful, lovable, passionate little
Joyce. Even now, with my brain half-clouded with booze, the thoughts of her were driving me up the wall. It was sending new waves of screaming passion deep into the confines of my pussy. I had to reach down and insert my finger into its torrid dampness as I reached over to fondle Joe's flaccid penis into a final state of rigidity. Combined with this manual manipulation, the sight of my self-masturbation stimulated Joe into his third erection of the night. It proved to me that he was the man I always thought he was. Joe Barnes could compete in this department against any man I'd ever had, drunk or not.
I swung my body around on the couch, resting my head on the arm at the side. I opened my thighs wide for him. "I'm ready, Joe.. . fuck me, fuck me to death . . . "
He moved in on me, the big familiar throbbing dong firmly in his hand, aimed at my waiting cunt with the accuracy of an archer drawing his bow. There was an abundance of moisture, allowing the charging torpedo to enter with the ease of a slithering eel. And it didn't stop until the throbbing turgid head collided with the extreme far end of my pulsating cunt. I clutched at it with every working muscle within me, drawing it further into me, struggling for every particle of sensation it had to offer. It was the same old familiar Joe Barnes cock, but somehow so much better than it ever was before. It was bringing back the fond memories of long ago. As my anxious ass raised from the couch to meet his every thrust I could feel the smooth fabric of the seat of the old Chevy sedan as it caressed my sweating flesh. The smell of the sun-drenched leather of the seats drifted into my nostrils reminding me of those happy, carefree days of our high school era. Every lusty movement was returning me second by second to the time and the place where it had all started. There was the sudden awareness that I was being stimulated mentally as well as physically. It had become an entirely new complete experience . . . a brand-new ball game.
A brilliant aura of screaming sex surrounded our frantically working bodies now as hot flesh pounded relentlessly against hot flesh, creating untold sparks of sensation, demanding the instant release of a million lusty dreams. No one thing could ever overshadow the sheer importance of this fantastic happening . . . this one great magical moment. It was destined to be mine, and mine alone to cherish throughout eternity, to place permanently into my valued book of memories.
The accumulation of every second of a lifetime of sexual encounters was now about to explode into a single release of mad, mad passion. There would be no possible point in trying to delay or prolong it.. . it was upon us . . . now . . . this very second. The syncopating rhythm of our unified bodies ended abruptly in a wave of never-ending delirium. There were no audible outbursts of ecstasy, no visible displays of erupting frenzy. Only the soothing sighs of complete satisfaction. Total relaxation. Half-drunk with liquor and fully drunk with passion, I was suddenly realizing I had just experienced a truly sexual encounter. Somehow I had found the proper combination of ingredients to make it all worthwhile.
The warmth of our bare flesh against each other was thoroughly comforting. There was no possible need for words between us now. Our common sense of understanding was saying it all for us. It was so good to have friends like this. His strong arms now folded around me tightly and securely. Yes, he was quite a guy, Joe Barnes was. I have no idea what time we drifted off to sleep. It really wasn't important.
The morning sun was bright, making it difficult to adjust my bleary eyes to its glaring rays. Joe had already departed, leaving me alone beneath the warm blanket he'd thrown over me sometime during the night. Still groggy from the effects of the liquor and the night's activities, I struggled to piece together the things that had happened over the past few days. It was almost unbelievable how unpredictable events can turn a person's life completely around in such a short span of time. There was time now to mull over the situation. I didn't even have a job to go to this morning. Yes, I had time now to think things out. . . plenty of time. So, where do I go from here?
I couldn't infringe on Joe's generosity too long. He'd been more than hospitable already. Since he fell into the same category as myself, I could be sure he'd never give marriage a thought. He'd make a hell of a good husband for some woman. But not me. I'd never been the settling-down type. There were still plenty of new horizons for me to reach for, new people to meet, things to do. I had already covered one hell of a lot of ground in my twenty-eight years, and I valued highly each and every experience I had had. I'd had some gains and I'd had some losses, but that was what life was all about. I was sure I'd work out my present crisis. I decided I'd begin by putting into effect my one big asset-my determination. It had worked miracles for me in the past and it would work them in the future. After all, I am and was a Taurus.
I considered moving to an entirely new location . . . California maybe. I could start a whole new life . . . begin from scratch again. New job . . . new friends . . . new experiences. I'd never forget the old ones. There would always be the memories of Carl Rhoades, Beth, Joe . . . And there would always be Joyce. She could come to visit me wherever I happened to be. We could resume our beautiful relationship once more . . . we could begin a new cycle where the old one had left off. Minus the devastating interruption, of course. It would be beautiful.. . absolutely beautiful. Even now as I closed my bloodshot eyes I could see that luscious young piece of flesh in all of her magnificent glory . . . the impish smile . . . the perfectly developed tits . . . the milky white thighs that framed her tender young pussy. Even the very thoughts of her kept sending wild sensations deep into my excited body. Again, that uncontrollable urge to reach beneath the blanket and . . . No, it would have to wait until later. I was badly in need of a hot cup of coffee.
