In the glittering world of show business, the traditional good-luck salutation to a performer going on stage with a new act, or in a new theater, has been, "Break a leg!"
The origin of this is obscure, but it is a fact that since the Bard of Avon set Banquo's ghost to rattling his chains, there have been many more broken hearts than broken legs. It is as hard and demanding a life as any which can be imagined. Of the thousands who struggle each year for a break, those who make it can be counted on the fingers of a hand. And those who do succeed are scarred for life, torn up emotionally. One need not be a psychiatrist to read the significance of the stories relating to show business people which appear daily in the public prints-the newspapers, periodicals and fan magazines.
Stars who can command a million dollars for a movie-or a hundred thousand for a twenty-minute appearance on television-are revealed as homosexuals, or lesbians openly flaunting their unnatural relationships. Heterosexual couples, each partner perhaps legally married to someone else, live together and have children. This is now accepted.
Accepted or not, these tumultuous relationships inevitably have a strong effect on the individuals involved.
In this novel, The Seductress, author Millie van Winkler tells the story of a mature but beautiful and compassionate folk singer, Bebe Randolph, whose heart goes out to a young Chicano boy half her age. It is Bebe who-in the beginning-is the seductress. Yet, despite her years in the cutthroat recording industry, Bebe is still innocent, far more so than the boy, Fargo Gonzales.
He has the tougliness and shrewdness needed to survive in the Mexican-American ghetto of East Los Angeles, and he quickly realizes that through deft manipulation of the naive blonde singer he can rise to undreamed-of heights.
Gentle trusting Bebe is first made a love slave and then cruelly exploited by Fargo and his friends, including the bewitching bisexual teenager, Maria.
But life provides its avenging angels, some of them with tarnished wings. In this story, it is Sergeant Dalt Edwards, (later Lieutenant) a rough, no-nonsense motorcycle cop with his own carnal desires, who takes an interest in what is being done to the trusting honey-haired singer.
He moves, but by then it is too late to save Bebe from the depraved lust of the Chicano gang and she, like so many of those who seek the glitter and glamor, is forever changed ... never again capable of looking back without seeing the fires of hell-and, like a beautiful moth, being drawn to them again and again.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
The sound was throbbing through her head, pounding and stabbing like cannon shot and arrows, as the cat-sleek girl with the flowing mane of pale blonde hair writhed and twisted and thrust her sweating loins in time to the all-consuming beat. She was nearly naked wearing only the briefest and sheerest of bikini panties, with small soft curls of golden pussy hair showing at the tight elastic fringes, and high-heeled boots of gleaming leather. Her proudly upthrust breasts jiggled and bounced with the thrashings of her lean-muscled body, the pink nipples distended in excitement. Her sensuous mouth gleamed wetly as it opened wide and the rich notes poured from her throat into the microphone. Through the earphones she heard the combo building, drawing it all from her, draining her straining young body in something akin to a sensual ecstasy.
And then there was suddenly silence, until the voice of the recording director said excitedly through the phones, "Bebe, BEAUTIFUL! Put your clothes back on and come out and kiss the boys in the band!"
"Thanks, Charlie," the voluptuous blonde said, exhausted now that another taping had been wrapped up. She waved weakly through the glass window of the booth and fumbled for her robe. "I could use a glass of iced tea."
And I can also use a cold shower, Bebe Randolph thought, sniffing the air in the tiny booth. She could smell the rich, ripe woman-scent of her own perspiration and feel the moisture coating her smooth, tapering ivory-hued thighs and trickling down the valley between her breasts. She pulled off the Mickey-Mouse earphones that tuned her into the band and looked through the window of the booth. The musicians were wiping their brows and hands too, looking just as wrung-out as she felt. Seven hours of straight taping for a new record was bound to take a lot out of anybody. She could see them, but they could not see her near-nakedness because it was one-way glass. The recording equipment was sensitive enough to pick up a mouse sneezing at a hundred feet, so there could be no air conditioning in the booth.
And as a performer, one of the rising recording stars, Bebe found she could put more of herself into a number if unencumbered by clothing. Although she was now twenty-nine, she had never become entirely adjusted to the way her teenage fans ogled her sensual body. It made her uncomfortable, just as did the four-letter words everybody else seemed to use so casually did.
"Sometimes I wonder if they're listening, or just looking," she once mused to the agency man assigned to her.
"Honey, it's like the old sign at railroad crossings-'Stop, Look, and Listen', Matt Matthers told her. "They look, and they listen and they stop at the goddamn record racks and buy, and that's what it's all about."
"I suppose so," she had conceded, but wishing it didn't have to be that way. She felt like a piece of meat on a rack.
Now, dripping wet from her session in the box, with her thin robe belted around her tiny waist, the sleek blonde entered the studio where the musicians were packing up their instruments. They caressed her exhausted body and exchanged the meaningless showbiz kisses and she forced herself to endure it all. She knew they meant nothing, but the close contact with male flesh, and the scent of manhood filling her flaring nostrils, excited her and she had to break away.
"Guys, I've had it," she said, feeling the flush of sexual arousal begin to sweep upward through her quaking belly. "Must have some tea-my throat is on fire."
Fargo Gonzales was immediately at her elbow with a thermos of iced tea. He poured a glass and she gratefully drank it, thanking the youth with her deep violet eyes and seeing the shy worship in his own Latin eyes. Fargo was barely fifteen, a pleasant, self-effacing Chicano boy, tall for his age and unmistakably handsome. He had appeared one day from the ghetto of East Los Angeles and attached himself to the group. He did the unpleasant but necessary tasks, such as carrying the heavy electronic equipment, keeping track of the scores, bringing coffee, and he never complained if they forgot to pay him. He was happy just to be on the glamorous fringes of show business. He had a guitar which he was learning to play, and his greatest hope was to be a performer himself one day.
"Thank you, Fargo," the exhausted blonde star said gratefully, favoring him with a smile which showed fine white teeth set in an unbelievably soft oval of sensuous lips. The tea was soothing to her strained throat. Bebe Randolph rarely drank anything but tea or coffee or milk or lemonade, and smoked a cigarette only when under stress. She knew that virtually all the musicians she worked with at least smoked marijuana, and many dropped acid or took pills or even heroin or the other hard narcotics, but Bebe had never felt the need.
They called her square and she shrugged it off, setting her own standards and sticking to them. In ten years struggling up the thorny ladder of show business, she had seen too many people with talent fuck up their heads with dope and alcohol.
It was the same with men. She liked men, liked the way they could make her lushly ripened body feel, arouse every nerve end, fill the aching opening in her cuntal slit with their iron-hard manhood ramming up into the tender woman-flesh up between her legs. Yet she had surrendered to few, and each time afterward she had felt empty, with their thick cum seeping from her distended pussy. She had felt used, when what she wanted to feel was that her partner had loved her ... if only for a few minutes. Never had she experienced orgasm, and yet she knew she was not frigid. She wanted to make love! She enjoyed it, yet knew there was so much she was missing. Her desire always rose and throbbed like wildfire through her straining young body, and her legs wrapped tightly around the naked heaving buttocks of her lover while her distended nipples ached from contact with his hairy chest as he panted and thrust his hot pulsating hardness deep up inside her rejoicing cuntal passage, and it always seemed she was on the brink, but never reached it.
"I've got to shower," she said, grinning, making herself look ten years younger. "I think I smell like a goat."
"Goat meat is delicious eating," somebody said, and everybody was laughing lewdly, salaciously, not knowing how it hurt. They liked to needle her, make the blood blush into her cheeks and see the discomfiture in her near-violet eyes. She knew it wasn't done viciously, that they were really just kidding, letting off steam after a very hard day's work, but still it made her very uncomfortable, something which she tried unsuccessfully not to show. She fell back on her only line of defense, a false banter with them.
"I'll buy you guys a box of lollipops to suck on," Bebe said as she strode from the recording studio, her long, slender legs scissoring. She let her hips roll a bit more than usual, so the smooth white spheres of her buttocks twitched and jiggled. She wanted to get to the shower quickly and cool down, both physically and emotionally. What she really wanted was a long tub bath, but there wouldn't be time. Another hour and she'd be caught in the heavy homebound traffic heading north from the recording studio in Hollywood, and that was sheer murder!
Without bothering to snap the lock behind her Bebe breezed into the rooms which the record company provided for its stars. The layout amounted to a small studio apartment. There was a convertible couch, faced by a pair of Danish-modern chairs. In one corner was an apartment-size refrigerator, and atop it a three-burner electric stove. To one side was a mini-bar, for which she had no use, except that it held various soft drinks and fruit juices. Off this room was a bathroom-dressing room, almost as large, and it was in that which she was interested at the moment.
With smooth movements of her agile body, the blonde singer peeled off the scanty robe and then bent to slide the wispy bikini panties down the smooth, beautifully-formed columns of her legs, stepping gracefully out of her remaining garment. She bound her hair up and covered it with a shower cap, then started the spray, finding a comfortable lukewarm temperature to begin. She wet a thick cake of scented soap and began to rub it sensuously over the smooth curves of her body. The aroma of it filled her nostrils, making them flare. The cake of soap, with a thick piece of rope tied through its center, had been left behind by one of the male recording stars, and the man-scent of it excited her. She stepped into the stream of water, sighing in relaxation.
Bebe began to lather her smooth-fleshed body languidly, realizing the taping had been a good one, and maybe been good enough to get her a golden record-sell a million. That would be nice. Her last one had come close, and might yet make it. she began to sing softly, for herself now, as she cupped the firm, full roundness of her breasts and her slender fingers played with the arousing nipples. It always took her a long time to come down from a recording session. She put so much of herself into every one that she just couldn't snap it off like a light is shut off.
I won't-I won't! she vowed to herself as her hand guided the soap high up the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and her fingers stroked the fleshy outer lips of her hotly aroused pussy. I won't play with myself again!
Yet Bebe Randolph knew she would-she couldn't help herself no matter how she tried. It had been so long since she'd had a man. Months.
Spreading her magnificently-curved legs slightly, the limber blonde singer thrust her pelvis forward and rubbed the slick sudsy soap over the palpitating flanges of her excited cuntal slit. The outstretched middle finger of her hand separated her soft, fleshy vaginal lips and slid inside to the more sensitive coral-hued inner flesh.
"Aaaaaahhhhh...," she moaned softly, her loins jerking lewdly forward at the slick contact. The hemp rope strung through the soap touched the rising, hardening bud of her clitoris and sent tingles of electricity arcing through her entire body. Slowly, she began to draw the rope up and down her soft cuntal furrow, her naked young body undulating, breasts swaying, nipples hardening and becoming long in response to the sensual friction. She could feel her sensually quivering body respond, the blood filling the fleshy mouth of her yearning cunt. With a groan, she suddenly yielded, thrusting her long middle finger hard up into the steaming depths of her hotly throbbing pussy, and the palm of her hand slapped the thin rope painfully hard against the button of her erect little clitoris. She began to finger herself with a frenzy, her hand smacking her tender flesh as her middle finger drove urgently as far as it could go up into her clasping pussy sheath, the nail scraping the ultra-tender cuntal canal. Deep in her wantonly writhing loins, she could feel the heat beginning, surging like the sea in a storm, and it felt like her entire body was going to explode. Her lust-twisted mouth opened a lewd grimace of passion, and her naked hips jerked wildly against the ecstatic probing of her finger as her entire frame shuddered and shook and trembled. "God! God! God!" Bebe Randolph cried out in frenzy as she bathed with guilt and desire. Then guilt was over! "No ... No ... NOOOOOO!!!!"
The blonde recording star managed to pull her hand away, leaving an aching void up between her trembling thighs.
Bebe stumbled from the shower, groping blindly for one of several thick, fluffy towels hanging on a rack. She rubbed and patted her yearning body dry, her legs quaking, her hands shaking as though she had been ill for a long, long time. She looked down and gasped at the length of her nipples. They were almost an inch long, sticking out from the full, heavy mounds of her upthrust, wide-spaced breasts and so tender she could barely touch them with even the feather-soft towel! She had never been this way before! No matter how urgent the desire in her unfulfilled body had been, even with a man pressing her down on a bed, forcing her reluctant legs apart-times when she had wanted and needed sexual contact-she had never seen her body in such a shameless condition of need.
Up between her long trembling legs, the obscene fire still raged unquenched. She could feel the fluids from her feminine glands spreading through her loins, and she thought that this was one time when she really needed a drink-if only to take her mind off her real need, a long thick penis splitting her hot yearning cunt, fucking wildly up into the churning depths of her belly.
Bebe thought: I've been too up-tight. Sex is good and natural, and God knows I enjoy it what little I've had ... if I could only take it just as it comes, and not want to be loved too, I'd be a lot better off! She thought of all the other girls she knew in showbiz. None of them seemed to be hung up the way she was. If they dug a stud, they went with him and did all kinds of wild, wonderful things. At first, and this had been really years ago, she had been stunned and shocked and revolted when she'd heard other girls talk casually about "giving head" and "getting eaten", and she'd actually had to ask what the terms meant. She had blushed furiously, and was incredulous, when they laughingly told her, like a child, that they meant taking a man's penis into your mouth, or having him crawl eagerly down between your wide-splayed legs and feeling his hotly quivering tongue slide deep up into your pussy. She had thought they were putting her on, but in time found out these things-and many things even more outrageous, like getting spanked with a ping-pong paddle or even lashed with a whip, were absolutely true!
There was no way, Bebe Randolph vowed, that anything so perverse would ever happen to her! She would die before she would allow herself to become such an animal!
It was just unnatural! Obscene and vile! While she was not as strait-laced as her Southern Baptist parents-nobody could be and function in any part of show business-she did have certain standards from which she would not deviate. Indeed, she had been to bed with fewer than a dozen men in her life, which for a healthy, naturally-sensual young woman of twenty-nine was almost being a virgin-these things were just so revolting as to be unthinkable. She had never felt comfortable again around the girls who so casually dispensed their sexual favors. Yet, not wanting to appear a snob and a prude, she had made a sincere effort to be nice to them, particularly as her own career was progressing faster than theirs, and she was truly a compassionate person. She even prayed occasionally that they would see the hell-pit they were inevitably headed for and change their ways before they were damned eternally. Not take up choir-singing, but become decent, healthy, clean people.
Now Bebe Randolph wrapped herself in a fresh towel, tossing the damp one into a hamper, and stepped into the sitting room of the dressing facility.
Skye Brent was there waiting on the sofa, a drink in hand, a cigarette dangling from his sensuous mouth. He played Fender bass and did most of the arranging of her numbers, and he was good at these things. A young man, in his early twenties, with pale blond hair that hung just below the collar of his turtleneck shirt, he had a sardonic expression. Nothing ever seemed to bother Skye. He had all the women he could use, made too much money, and was too handsome. He was tall, over six feet, lean but muscular, and supremely confident of himself. His facial features were rugged without being pretty-boy handsome, and he had been in some movies and TV segments. He seemed to radiate masculinity.
"What are you doing here?" Bebe Randolph gasped, pulling the barely-concealing towel closer around the enticing curves of her body, as she halted in the doorway. She was not angered at Skye's presence-members of the group came and went casually-but seeing him so suddenly took her by surprise. Particularly as she was so physically and sensually aroused herself. Skye brushed his long hair back. Despite the arduous recording session he appeared fresh. "I thought I locked the door," she added, lamely.
Skye blew a cloud of smoke, enjoying her evident surprise, and lewdly taking in the ripe beauty of her body. Along with the wet towel, Bebe had taken off her shower cap and now her long, pale hair tumbled wildly over her shoulders. He could see the full roundness of her breasts, the thrusting nipples barely concealed by the towel, as she stared at him.
"You didn't, Bebe," he said casually. "But what matters? We're old friends."
"Not that old," she said, a sting of tartness in her voice. His tone had suggested he'd slept with her-or could any time he wanted to. He hadn't, but she wasn't sure he couldn't, and she had to put him down. She would not give him the satisfaction of trying to cover herself more adequately with the towel, let him know that the sudden sight of him had shocked her sexually. Clutching the towel, she strode to the mini-fridge and got a bottle of Coke, opened it and drank, her full sensuous lips ovaling softly around the neck. Then she sat in one of the chairs, conscious of her almost-naked condition, and carefully crossed her legs to conceal the narrow blonde-curled slit of her pussy, yet aware that the position hiked the towel up so he could clearly see the smooth white roundness of her ass-cheeks. Well, let him look! Against her will, her own huge eyes were drawn to the tight-fitting crotch of his flare jeans. He was hard! His erected cock was out-lined unmistakably against the thin fabric ... long and thick. She imagined she could see the darkening dampness of pre-seminal fluid seeping through the cloth! Combined with the burning in her own cuntal vee, it was almost too much to look at! She tried, with only partial success, pulling her eyes away. They kept returning to the thick bulge of his genitals, and she could feel the hot surge of blood into her face as she shamefully tried to avert her gaze. She swigged hurriedly on the soft drink and said, "What's up, Skye?"
"Thought we might rap about the setup at Monterey," he said casually. Bebe was booked for the famous Monterey Jazz Festival, which had long ago left jazz behind, and which was coming up in less than three months. "It can be a bummer. Open-air, and the fog comes in, and nobody's in tune, and it could fuck you up. Twenty thousand idiots under the oaks, most of them stoned. A ham-bone emcee! That's what I came to talk about."
"We knew what it was when we took the booking," Bebe said nervously. "Every other group will have the same problem."
"Yeah...." he agreed, grinning lewdly. "I figured. It can't hurt you. You'll be straight-arrow, and the rest will be bombed out of their birds. That's what I came to rap about ... but I got a better idea now."
"What?" the lovely blonde singer said in a soft, nervous voice. She didn't like the look in his pale blue eyes, or the way he crushed out the stub of his cigarette on the floor. "What idea?"
"Let's fuck."
"Skye!"
She tried to spring from the chair, but it was too deep and soft and she had to untangle the long, slender legs she had crossed under her, so she almost fell as she struggled up-and he was there, cat-quick, to catch her, pulling her writhing young body against him, stripping the towel away so her suddenly-bared breasts were rubbing roughly against the fabric of his turtleneck shirt.
"Jesus, what a pair," he whispered as his strong arms held her prisoner. "Man could go crazy just fucking between them!"
"Damn you, Skye!" the struggling girl cried out as he pulled her across the room to the wide, long sofa and pressed her down on it. "Are you crazy!"
"Crazy to fuck you," he said, his hands beginning to slide over the still-damp rich contours of her straining body. He held her down and her head tossed, spraying golden hair over the dark fabric of the upholstery as she tried to avoid his seeking mouth. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue going deep into her mouth like a hot, wet spear, probing, seeking, teasing and finding her own tongue, leading it reluctantly but inevitably between his own lips. His hands crushed the soft resilient mounds of her breasts. She felt her hardening, elongating nipples being squeezed between his fingers that were so strong and dexterous from years of picking and fingering guitars, and she moaned in futile pleading for him to stop. And his voice was laughingly confident in her ear as he panted, "And I know you want it-I watched you in the shower. You were playing with yourself until hell wouldn't have it, baby ... you like this ... you want me to squeeze your tits and grab your beautiful ass and then stick my prick way up your hot little pussy ... and don't gimme any bullshit! I know a cunt that's hot to fuck when I see one ... or smell one! And you sure smell like you want way-out fucking!"
"My God ... Nooooooo!" she moaned against his wetly searching mouth, and even as she did so, Bebe Randolph felt her love-starved body yielding. She absolutely wanted his hands on her, his lips brutally crushing hers, his tongue delving deep into her mouth.
Beneath his overwhelming weight, the captured singer bucked and strained, telling herself she was trying to escape. But every motion of her tensing body only brought her cock-hungry cunt into closer contact with the thick rod of iron-hard flesh separated from her wide-splayed loins only by the thin cloth of his trousers. She could feel the urgent pulsing heat of it, and the heavy mass of his scrotal sac pressing up against the dampening flanges of her pussy-lips ... and she knew that she would willingly yield to this rape.
She would even beg for it! He had come at her at just the right time, when she was aroused and frustrated and not in control of her own sensually aroused body. Yet she continued to fight the onslaught of his male flesh, clawing at him, but ineffectually even as he jerked her legs wide apart and bent them high up on her body, so her knees were crushed cruelly down on the points of her quivering breasts until she almost cried out with the pain. Above her, his face leered, lips stretched back over his strong white teeth. She felt his fingers diving, probing into her defenseless little cunt, opening the quickly-moistening lips, ramming ruthlessly up inside her warm moist passage, whirling like the agitators of an eggbeater until all she could do was undulate her loins in a futile attempt to ease the attack. And all the while, his young, virile body was rocking back and forth, crushing down on hers, the hard, sharp edges of his wide belt-buckle scraping the tender flesh of the soft mound of her trembling belly. She could feel the thick shaft of his manhood pressing into her yielding flesh, his fingers sliding deep into her wetly responding pussy and then playing up and down the widespread cheeks of her ass just as they played on his own guitar!
"No ... no ... NOOOOOOOO, Skye!" the aroused blonde singer moaned. But even as she pleaded, she realized her body was betraying her. She was screwing her hot eager little pussy up at him urgently, and her legs scissored before clamping tightly around his hips as she yielded and her arms went around his back, nails scraping his hard muscles through his sweat-soaked shirt. Avidly, her soft lips parted and she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth, her own small perfect teeth nibbling hungrily at it. Her entire naked body jerked in undeniable hunger up against him, but still she managed to moan, "Noooooooooo...."
"Bebe, you want it ... you gotta have it!" he breathed heavily in her ear. "Tell me!"
She panted, still undulating and writhing and clutching at him. Against her will, she reached between their tight-clenched bodies, and her fingers found the outline of his long rampant penis and closed on it, squeezing, feeling the virile heat and the length and the urgent male hardness. It had been so long since....
"I want it," she moaned in abject surrender. "Lock the door!"
With a chuckle, he untangled himself from her clutching arms, looking down at the tight pink slit of her hair-lined pussy which was already glistening with the wetness of her carnal desire. He saw the vacant, animal need in her wide, deep eyes and the slackness of her full sensuous mouth. God, how he'd like to put his cock there! But not yet. Not this time. Bend her to his will, make her cry for his prick, and then she'd suck it! Maybe having his cum burning her slender white throat would make her voice even huskier, make a better singer of her! But he'd have to wait. He locked the door and stripped.
He tossed his shirt casually onto the nearest chair. Then, with one smooth motion, he peeled down both his flare slacks and his jockey shorts. His long thick cock, already rigid, sprang out and the mere sight of it made Bebe gasp in anticipation. She could imagine what it would feel like plundering her sensitive flesh, splitting the soft, tender lips of her pussy, driving up, up and up into the hungering depths of her cuntal canal!
Skye stood over her, his fingers slowly stripping the thick, fleshy foreskin back until the bulbous, purplish head of his blood-engorged cock filled her entire vision. Bebe could see a pearly drop of pre-seminal fluid forming at the slit in the end, glistening, and she felt her own passion flowing wildly, lubricating her genitals in anticipation. She had not wanted this, but now that it was here, she could think of nothing but having it! Being filled with the long, hot, throbbing hardness of him. She moaned and involuntarily reached out to touch and fondle him. Her fingers would not encompass the girth of his cock.
And then he was lowering himself over her nakedly writhing body, his warm wet lips closing on the rising bud of her nipples as she shifted, parting her long, smooth-tapered legs wide to accept his body.
"Hold my balls and put it in," he ordered her, his hands roaming over her burning flesh.
"Oooooohhhhhh!!!" the tantalized blonde singer gasped. She did as ordered, guiding his massive cock-head between the flexing wet lips of her pussy, feeling the heat of him and his heartbeat and his hot, heavy testicles in her delicate fingers.
"Slide it up and down a little," he directed, looking down at the blonde singer with hard, determined eyes as he flexed his powerful hips. "Wet it up good, because I'm gonna fuck it in you in a way you'll never forget!"
"Yes, Skye," Bebe whispered. With her slender fingers, she rubbed his burgeoning head between her moistly heated cunt lips until his penis was glistening with the slickness from her own coral-hued inner flesh. She rubbed it over the deliciously-aching button of her clitoris, trembling at the sensitive contact. She could feel her vaginal lips voraciously clutching at the hot intruder, and she had to have it in her, NOW! With a gasp she brought the dark red tip to the opening and positioned it so it lay just inside her hotly yearning flesh. She trembled as she felt his pelvis jerk forward a fraction of an inch and he insinuated his cock directly above its helpless target. Without protesting, she allowed his strong hands to raise her legs until her knees were pressed so far up they framed her lust-tortured face and her pussy was a wide-open plane helplessly splayed for the impending impalement. Then his big hands grasped her shoulders and he braced himself. The sheer size of his penis frightened her. She was not sure her almost virginal cunt could absorb it, and it was clear he was not going to be gentle with her. He was going to take her quick and hard, make her scream at the instant of penetration. Yet she knew that she could not stop herself, could not quell her wanton need. If he lifted himself away from her at this instant, she knew she would be screaming and clawing at him to pull him back. Rolling her head, she closed her eyes and pleaded, "Now-put it in me now!"
Holding her wantonly trembling young body with vise-grip strength, Skye lunged forward. The mushroom-shaped head of his massive cock tore into the unresisting soft flesh, sending great ripples of pain ahead of it as, with the accuracy of a torpedo, it plunged into the deepest recesses of her tight little pussy. He continued his brutal thrust until the flexing tip rammed hard against her cervix and his heavy mass of cum-filled balls smacked wetly against her wide-stretched ass cheeks. With the same motion, he ground his powerful hips down into her in a circular motion.
Her arms flexed and flailed in the air and locked tight around the straining muscles of his back, and her long legs flew helplessly outward into the air on either side of his body. She had never felt anything like it in her life! He was filling her straining, quaking belly, splitting her apart! She could feel his balls being ground into her sensitive anus as she writhed, bucking up against his impaling flesh. It hurt! She hadn't thought it was possible to hurt when you weren't a virgin, but there was so much of him, and he had taken her so quickly, without mercy, that her body, receptive and eager though it was, simply had not been ready for such a violently quick invasion by his rampant male flesh. Her cunt muscles twitched and then closed around the intruding shaft of pulsating hardness, and her entire body jerked, trying to dislodge him. But he held her tight in his powerful arms, while his lean, hard body was pressing her down on the sofa. She felt him flex the entire length of his hotly throbbing cock inside her pain-stretched pussy as, for a moment he remained motionless, allowing her cuntal walls to stretch and meet the dimensions of his lust-swollen penis.
Bebe moaned, and her eyelids fluttered as she tried to accustom herself to the wild sensations which were flooding through her obscenely-stretched body.
"Fuck, Bebe!" Skye panted. "Hit me with that hot little pussy of yours. Make music, baby! Fuck!"
He began to screw in and out of her, the thick shaft of his penis drilling into her moistly yielding flesh. On each outstroke, her pink cuntal flesh wrapped like a soft, wet glove around the tree-like dimension of his cock and the clutching lips of her tight little pussy sucked at it like another mouth. Then, lunging forward, he repeatedly buried himself to the very hilt in her ravished young body again as his sperm-laden balls smacked loudly against her straining ass-cheeks. With each stroke she grunted, her sensuous mouth hanging open, her tongue tip fluttering across her full parted lips. Bebe began to moan and sigh and fuck up to the impaling rod of flesh urgently. Her fingernails raked his back, making little red lines in the rippling muscles.
She wished she liked Skye, but she didn't. She wished she liked herself, but she couldn't do that either. All she could do was lie under him, look down and see his massive maleness ramming and reaming into her defenseless vaginal passage and glory in the ecstatic sensations that he was giving her. With shame, she realized that to him she was just meat-a piece of ass he'd been after for a long time. And now, he had caught her at just the right moment, a moment when she needed what he had even more than he needed her-much more, because he had all the girls he could handle, and she had deprived herself too long.
As the lean musician continued to furiously fuck into her clamoring cuntal flesh, Bebe, with part of her mind, admitted that it had been much too long since she had allowed herself the physical relief that any healthy young woman needs regularly. She had held back, wanting some vague thing called LOVE, and, of course, there had been no love, no matter how she had tried to pretend. She had driven herself up a tree with her self-denial.
Now she must learn to let go, and enjoy. Perhaps reach orgasm for the first time. She knew Skye was very good ... if anyone could bring her to the peak, on a purely physical, sensual level, he should be the one.
And she was getting there!
Moaning and thrashing, she urgently fucked the wide-splayed plane of her hair-lined cuntal furrow up to his rampant maleness. She felt the heat and urgency of his long thick hardness pistoning in and out of her passionately-eager body as she freed a hand to reach behind his plunging buttocks and find the heavy sac of his balls which was wet and slippery already with the fluids from her own straining body.
"Oooooohhhhhhhh ... goooooodddddd!!" Bebe moaned against her will. "It's killing me! Don't stop!"
Freeing her legs, she planted her feet on the cushion beneath them and began to strain and screw her passionate body up and down the long length of his thick rigid cock as he poised above her. Like a hungry mouth her wetly throbbing cunt devoured his maleness, and she could feel her matted pubic hairs tangling with his pelvic curls on every stroke.
"Ugh! Ugh! Uuuuuugggghhhhh!!!" the thrashing blonde grunted as her fingers, with a skill she didn't know she had, began to milk his sperm-bloated balls. She pulled his triumphant mouth down to hers and captured it, sending the long, hot spear of her tongue deep into his throat and sucking his own tongue between her passion swollen lips. She moaned, "Almost ... I can feel...."
The fire was spreading deep within her straining belly. It was like-well, like nothing she had ever known before. No cliche, like a volcano erupting or a searing-hot typhoon sweeping through her vitals would ever describe it. It was just something so ecstatic, so wonderful that was spreading through her, making every muscle in her body spasm, every nerve tingle, and she was going out of her mind!
Wantonly yielding to her own carnal desires, needs which she had never before realized fully that she had!
And then in an instant, like the vanishing of a dream on sudden awakening, there was no more of him!
What had been hard and hot and long, splitting her eager pussy, burrowing into the very depths of her womb, was no longer there. Nothing but a doughy mass of flaccid flesh that squished and bent double even as his hips pounded down against her urgently open genitals.
"Don't cum!" the aroused blonde cried. "Not yet! I'm almost there! I'm almost cummminnnnngggg!" Eyes wide with the torture she was undergoing, she looked up at his straining, handsome face, and saw the frustration there as she cried out in desperation, "Keep fucking! Keep fucking meeeeeeee!!!"
"Shit, it's gone," Skye Brent moaned. "Damn thing just quit!"
"Ooooh, nooooo...." Bebe groaned in frustration. Bitter tears filled her passion-glazed eyes, and when she could focus on his grimacing face, she said, "You didn't cum!"
It was not a question. It was a statement of fact. Although her sexual experience was extremely limited, she knew what it felt like when a man shot her full of his sperm. Her pussy was flooded with thick, hot, whitish cum. His cock got bigger and harder and twitched and she could actually feel the jets of his semen inside her. And this time there had been none of that! One instant he had been long and throbbing and fucking inside her-and then nothing!
"It happens sometimes," Skye said miserably. "I fuck great just so long, and then my prick quits. I can get it up again in a few minutes, maybe ... if you help."
"Ooooooh, how?" the torturously-aroused girl moaned. She could still feel her vitals churning, on the very edge of giving her a real orgasm for the first time. She would do anything, if only he would get hard and go back into her-just a few minutes would do it. No matter what the price, she was now so aroused the would do anything! She mumbled, "What do you want me to do?"
"Suck it a little," Skye said.
"Not that ... I never have!" the shocked girl protested.
"Bebe, it's the only way." He rose above her, fingering the shortening, wet softness of himself. "Just take it in your mouth for a minute and we'll finish. Once it gets up again, it'll be a lot better even than before."
"No," Bebe Randolph protested weakly. She could see the obscene, shrunken mass of his maleness, and it seemed incredible that just minutes before it had been so hard and hot and thick and vital in her urgently-pulsing vagina ... her love-starved pussy that needed it for just a little longer. It glistened wetly now with her own sweet-scented womanhood. "I never have...."
"Bebe, there's no other way," the lewdly-grinning guitarist said as he rose over her, peeling the loose, wet foreskin back. "Just seeing your lips tight around it will get me so horny that it'll be like a baseball bat!" Then, a compassionate tone coming into his voice, he said, "I feel like a shit, leaving you hung up this way-but you don't cum easy. Look, if you really don't want to, I'll go down, give you some head, get you off with my tongue. It won't be the same, but that's the best I can do."
"Oooooh, my God...." the aroused girl moaned. She didn't want his tongue, even though she'd never had one. She wanted his cock, big and hard and thick and long, buried deep inside her hotly excited pussy, ripping her apart. She knew he was as upset as she was. She reached out to cup his balls and felt them heavy with his semen, sperm that he wanted to shoot into her as urgently as she wanted it. Her violet eyes managed to focus on the shrunken penis, and she found herself wondering what it would taste like. Every girl she knew sucked, so it couldn't be too bad ... and she'd read several books written by marriage counselors who said it was performing normally when you indulged in oral sex. She felt her natural defenses crumbling, and whispered, "I'll try."
"And you'll dig it, Bebe," he said confidently as he moved up on the sofa until his genitals were poised less than two inches above her partly-open lips. "Use the tip of your tongue and lick around a little ... then open your mouth wide. Don't suck too hard."
"You won't cum in my mouth," she pleaded.
"No ... just get me hard again. Keep your lips over your teeth and play with it with your tongue."
Abjectly, unable to control herself, Bebe Randolph took his soft penis into her fingers and stroked it teasingly, trying to urge an erection upon Skye before she actually had to suck, but nothing happened. He was crouched above her lust-tortured face, and she trembled as she brought the glistening tip to her lips. The heady man-scent filled her nostrils, causing them to flare. She steeled herself for what was to come. This was totally repulsive to her, yet if she was going to put out the raging fires in her loins, it was something she would have to do and she was willing to make the sacrifice. Her eyes could only see the curly-haired thatch of his pelvis and the still-swollen balls as he moved sinuously and the wet, slick head of his penis slid across her lips that were still open only a fraction of an inch. Bebe had the thought that if he was hard and urgent, it might be easier for her to accept him into her mouth. But this wet softness was not at all arousing to her. Yet she had to do it!
She tried and then shook her head and said, "I can't ... You'll have to ... to put it in my mouth."
"Okay ... lick," he ordered.
Obediently, she extended her tongue, tasting a man's penis for the first time. Strangely, it wasn't unpleasant, and she had the vagrant thought, wondering how much of what she was tasting was him and how much was from her own hotly aroused pussy. She felt the soft, velvety head slide across her wetly parted lips and steeled herself for the moment it would actually penetrate her mouth. She let her eyes close and surrendered herself to the teasing of his penis. She sensed that he needed every bit of sensuality in order to regain his erection. Relaxing, allowing him to do whatever he wanted with her trembling lips, she began to caress his naked buttocks and his muscular legs and arms. She felt his cock twitch as he rubbed it over her cheeks, and she knew he had told the truth-if she helped him with her mouth, he would be able to finish what he started, give her what she so desperately needed between her legs.
"Um mm mm mm...." Bebe whispered, sending her tongue on a new exploration down the length of his penis, licking the fragrant juices from it. Unconsciously, her hands began to trail over him, feeling his young, hard muscle structure. He was sweating, and the odor of him was acrid in her flaring nostrils. She opened her passion-blurred eyes to look at him as her fingers kneaded his biceps. Right now-kneeling above her-he could do anything he wanted with her. And then her horrified gaze fixed on the long line of scars on the inside of his elbows, and without consciously thinking of what she was doing, she violently thrust the naked musician away, clawing at him, slapping as she screamed, "Get away from me!"
"What in the hell?" Skye Brent blurted, trying to figure out what had suddenly come over this blonde singer he had been trying to fuck for so long. Damn, she was hot for it-and now she'd freaked! "How come you flip?"
"You rotten son of a bitch!" she hissed, her full lips curling in distaste as her sharp nails clawed her arms. "I know why you lost it. , . went soft! You're shooting dope! What is it? Horse? Coke? Meth? Oh, you dirty, lousy rat!"
"Bebe, it's not all that bad," he countered, rising above her, trying to get away from her savagely-slashing nails. "I'm not hooked, or like that. Just enough to get a lift!"
"Get out!" she screamed wildly, flailing at him. "Smoking pot is bad enough! But you're on HARD STUFF! How long? How many fixes do you need every day? How much does the habit cost, Skye? No-don't tell me-I don't want to know! Just get out! Out! OUT YOU IDIOT!!!" Her voice fell as she began to sob. She turned away from him, curling into a ball on the sofa and the tears streamed while he awkwardly dressed. As he was going out the door, she raised her head, and said, "I feel sorry for you ... really! Try to kick it. If I can help ... I will. But don't come near me again until your body is clean. AND I MEAN CLEAN!!! Hit the street, junkie!"
For a long time, Bebe Randolph lay immobile, the fire in her loins banked and forgotten. It sickened her to think of a healthy young, handsome, talented man like Skye Brent with a monkey on his back. She had seen too much of that sort of thing. Her fury abating, she vowed she would try to help him if he wanted help.
Meanwhile, she would clean up again and go home. Maybe even have one more drink than she should, making a grand total of two.
CHAPTER TWO
Taking her second shower within two hours, Bebe Randolph examined herself as best she could in the light of the trauma which she had experienced, and she faced certain facts.
She decided definitely she had repressed herself too much. She certainly didn't have to turn into a wanton slut, but she was a healthy, passionate woman of twenty-nine who looked almost ten years younger and was extremely attractive to men. And she enjoyed the company of men in almost every context ... she enjoyed performing on stage, she enjoyed having dinner in a good restaurant, going to the beach and all kinds of things. She did not like to be pawed and mauled yet urgently wanted and needed physical contact with males. And, she told herself with what she thought was honesty, she was not a cock-tease or a show-biz whore. She had never played games with any of the agency people just to get ahead. She had confidence in her talent and ability, and if these things led her to make a lot of money, and public adulation, that would be nice. If they didn't, she could always take her guitar into small clubs and at least make a living.
Bebe was not happy with the way the agency-personified by the ebullient Matt Matthews set about exploiting her talent and looks, but realized that any star who made it big had to give a bit, allow promotions which might be personally distasteful in order to reach millions of people instead of a few hundred.
Matt Matthers had put the whole schmeer together. He had invented the Weeping Willows by collecting a half-dozen young musicians who could make interesting sounds together, and he had put Bebe Randolph to work with them. Bebe had wanted to go solo with only her guitar and her personality, but the agency man knew better, and she had gone along with his judgement. Financially, he had been right-she made five or six times what she could make as a single. She was being developed, the Weeping Willows were being developed. They were on TV regularly, which helped promote the records and concerts. It was understood that in time they would split. She could do her thing, and they could do theirs.
From a business point of view, it was beautiful.
To live in it was hell.
But no more hell than is involved in carrying trays in a pancake house, or being a cocktail girl or a telephone operator, and the work certainly paid much better. And it was nice, when on a concert tour, to not even have to sign credit cards for any thing, to know everything was handled in advance by Matt Matthers.
"Count your blessings, dum-dum," Bebe Randolph muttered to herself as she dried off and dressed in a violet minidress and matching calf-high leather boots which matched her eyes. She left the studio building and found the Citroen sports coupe with the Masserati engine in its shaded parking stall. Like everything else which Matt Matthers decreed, it was painted to match the violet of her eyes. She was supposed to be conspicuous. The car would do almost a hundred and fifty miles an hour, and if she didn't collect ten speeding tickets a month, he wanted to know why.
Bebe Randolph had refused flatly to live anywhere close to the Los Angeles basin. She had found a Spanish-styled house of modest dimensions high in the hills just south of Santa Barbara, where she lived alone. Set among eucalyptus and oak trees, it gave her the privacy she needed when she could afford the time. She had a part-time maid who saw to it that the place was clean and stocked with food.
She let the powerful car have its head, spending the frustrations in her young and eager body. The aerodynamic design glued it to the road, aided by the hydraulic suspension system. She was cruising at a hundred and thirty miles an hour when she passed the two California Highway Patrol bike cops, who were doing a comfortable eighty. Far back in her rear-view mirror, she saw the red lights begin to flash. There was no oncoming traffic and she punched the hot machine hard, staying well ahead until she came to a sharp turn where there was enough space to pull over. She lighted one of her rare cigarettes and watched them go roaring by, cranking on the big Harleys for all they were worth. She was still there five minutes later when they had managed to shut off and return. They did not look happy, but the one with sergeant's stripes had himself under control. He parked his bike in front of the Citroen as if afraid it would flee and bent down to talk to her through the open window. He was polite in a strained way as he inquired whether she had any idea how fast she had been going.
Glancing at the stop-needle on the speedometer, Bebe Randolph said, "Roughly 137.5802 miles an hour. Start writing."
He had his citation book out, but slipped it back into his pocket. He stepped back to admire the sleek car, which came only up to his hips, and said, "What is it?"
She told him. She told him what it could do, and he didn't believe. He was tall and lean, maybe in his mid-thirties, and handsome in a rugged sort of way. He looked like he might have had to lay the big Harley-Davidson down a few times-there were scars. She knew he had eyes for her. She saw he wasn't wearing any rings. And she was hungry for a man. Bebe Randolph climbed out of the hot French-Italian car, with a flash of golden thighs and said, "There's ten miles of good road ahead. Take it for a spin. I was blowing dust, and you can write me. You look like a man who knows wheels. Roll it!"
The challenge was too much for the cop. He wormed his way into the bucket seat, took a moment to figure out the gearshift and said to his partner, "Clock me ... ,Pm invited."
He took off in a cloud of dust, with the other bike cop hard on his tail, cranking the big Harley on. Bebe Randolph watched her car disappear, thinking that all cops weren't necessarily pigs.
And this one had left his bike behind, with his crash helmet slung over the handlebars.
Well, that could be fun too. She had never been on one of the California Highway Patrol bikes.
She strapped the helmet on. She knew how the gears worked. It took her a minute to find the switches for the red lights and siren. And then she was after them, cranking it on hard, the wind tearing her mouth open as she crouched low over the tank, her blond hair streaming.
The sergeant was feeling out the big Citroen, or she knew she would never have caught them. The Harley was too big and cumbersome, but it would move! Bebe brought it alongside on the eight-lane divided road and laughed at their looks of astonishment. They waved her down at the next turnout and had to help her put the big bike on its stand. There was too much weight for her.
"I hope nobody saw you on that iron pony," the sergeant said.
"Would anybody believe?" she countered.
"I doubt that ... I don't believe."
"You like my car?"
"Quite a set of wheels," he conceded.
Bebe Randolph fished her wallet out and handed him her license.
"You can't think I'll write you after this," the sergeant said.
"You can write down my address."
He did. With a grin and a wink, she dropped into the bucket seat of the Citroen again and took off in a cloud of dust.
She was only mildly piqued when she realized that he hadn't recognized her name. But then, he'd been looking mostly at her legs.
And his motorcycle ... it could move.
Maybe a man like the sergeant, a lean, mature man who knew his business, could bring her to the release she needed so much.
She hoped he would find some reason to call by her house.
* * *
Once home, Bebe Randolph put the fast car away and restlessly prowled the house, wondering what to do with herself. She was restless as a cat in a strange garret. She felt the unsatisfied yearning in her sleek body, wanted desperately to finish what had been started. She turned on the color TV console and found nothing at all to interest her on any of the channels. The maid had come and gone hours before. There were no nearby neighbors, and if there had been, she probably wouldn't have been on intimate terms with them anyway. She often wondered what the other people who lived in the thickly-wooded hills of the area were like. Did they have regular families, go to workaday jobs and the PTA and Safeway and things like that? Undoubtedly they did-but they lived in another world.
Bebe often thought she really needed a lover. Not simply for the sex, but for someone to come home to ... someone with whom she could put her feet up on the coffee table and have a drink and relax and talk. Of course, it would be nice to have the sex which would go with it, but more than the sex, she was sure she needed human companionship above all.
That, of course, she could have with the crooking of her little finger and a smile. Men would come flocking ... men who would use her, make a fool of her, hurt her as Skye Brent had just done. And that sort of thing she could surely live without. The loneliness was preferable.
The trouble was, it brought on a temptation to retreat even deeper inside herself. She knew that if she yielded, started to drink alone to dull the emptiness, enter a world of alcoholic fantasy, soon she would be seeing the world through a bottle.
Bebe thought it would be wise to fix herself something to eat, yet she hated to eat alone. She considered driving to one of the dim, quiet restaurants in Santa Barbara and decided that would be even worse-to be by herself and surrounded by families or lovers out on a date. Restlessly she put a long-playing tape on the big Roberts. Not one of hers-she heard enough of her own voice. She set the volume low and rummaged through a stack of paperback books, which she bought by the dozen, in futile search for something that looked interesting. She tried a couple and could not get into them. She wanted a drink, but would not let herself have one. Long ago she had set a rule for herself when she really wanted liquor, that was the time not to have any. Finally, she lit another cigarette.
Then, in the gathering dusk, she saw headlights turning into the drive. Her heart thumped as she wondered if the Highway Patrol sergeant had picked up on her blatant invitation, but on going to the picture window, she saw it was the combo's station wagon.
Oh, no! Bebe whispered. The last thing she wanted was to be invaded by folk-rock musicians who, after their long session in the studio were quite likely stoned on pot, or half drunk, or both. But even so, it would mean she was no longer alone, and she knew she could handle them. So, almost happily, she went to the heavy oaken front door and opened it.
She was surprised to discover it was Fargo Gonzales, the Chicano band boy, and he was alone.
The slender, handsome Mexican-American teenager was carrying an attache case, and she found it incongruous. The case belonged in the hands of a big studio executive or an industrialist or possibly a diplomat and looked very much out of place conveyed by a boy who barely had to shave, one who wore an open-neck sports shirt and faded jeans and cowboy boots. Equally startling was his appearance at her house. He had never been here before-she had not been aware he even knew where she lived and she sensed he might be uncomfortable to find himself in this enclave of the wealthy. She knew he came from the barrios of East Los Angeles and was trying to escape to a better life, despite a basic lack of education. Bebe flashed her best welcoming smile at him.
"Why, Fargo!" she said, tossing her pale mane of blonde hair back. "Whatever are you doing here?"
"Miss Bebe, after you left the studio, a messenger came from NBC with tape of your appearance on that talk show. There was a note saying you were to approve, and that it is necessary it be done tonight. I was asked to bring the tape, so I bring it to you."
"Oh, thank you!" the taffy-haired singer said. "Really, it was too much-making you drive a hundred miles just for this. It could have waited until I went to the studio in the morning."
"I was told it was important," the slender dark-skinned youth said with a shy grin. "And it is nice to have a reason to come away from Los Angeles to this beautiful town. Also, I have just now gotten my driving license, and I like to drive."
"Of course," Bebe Randolph replied, realizing that for this handsome youngster actually having both a license and access to a car was a major event in his young life. Through her mind flashed the question of how long he would remain so sweet and innocent. Would the jungle of the East Los Angeles ghetto swallow him up, or would he survive, go on to a better life than that of his parents and his numerous brothers and sisters? In the few months he had been with the group, he had impressed her with his earnest desire to work. No matter what hour of day or night, he was always there, unobtrusively on the fringes, ready to perform the most menial task with a quick, white-toothed smile. "Well, you can't just turn around and go back. I was just going to fix some dinner, and you're going to help me eat it!"
She could instantly sense the unexpected invitation took him by surprise, and perhaps frightened him. He, Fargo Gonzales, the Chicano band boy, being invited to eat in this luxurious home ... and a meal which the lovely Bebe Randolph, the rising folk-rock star, would prepare with her own beautiful hands! Smiling, she tried to put him at ease as she took his hand and drew him into the house and swung the heavy door shut behind him. And Bebe thought to herself, if only he could stay this way, kind and helpful and respectful and-and innocent! Yet she knew the jungle that lay glittering in the myriad lights of Los Angeles-and all the other big cities. She knew of the temptations of girls and liquor and narcotics, and how susceptible the under-priviliged members of minority groups were to these things.
Although she herself had not been culturally deprived, and had come from a comfortably-well-off family which even today did not quite approve of her career, she had seen enough to realize why so many youngsters revolted, became anti-social, indulging themselves in dope and God only knew what else. It was to break the deadly monotony of their drab, apparently hopeless existences.
In her own way, Bebe realized her choice of career was a mild revolt. Her voice was full and clear, with a good, if not remarkable range, and she had a way of coming through to any audience. When she had firmly set her mind on an entertainment career, her family had tried in vain to persuade her to strive to be a Gospel singer. But Bebe had never been able to picture herself done up in choir robes with a chorus of a hundred to back her up and some evangelist following her with exhortations to repent and find the true path trodden by Jesus. This was not to say she was irreligious. She simply would not have felt right commercializing on the Bible.
And, having seen many of the Christian "crusades" on TV, and even attended some meetings out of curiosity, she had come to the conclusion that they were more showbiz than her own work. They might be justified by the argument that by being shown on the tube, they influenced millions of people and saved some from God only knew what terrible fate, they were still showbiz and the evangelists all had expense accounts which would break the Pentagon.
Bebe Randolph had an innate dislike of hypocrisy. And there were times, lying alone in her big bed in the early hours of a morning, unable to sleep, that she wondered if perhaps she was not as big a hypocrite as any other.
Because she denied herself.
She steadfastly denied herself the right to be a woman, to enjoy her voluptuous woman's body and take a man wantonly, as she deeply wanted to do, and instead finding only superficial, physical, false release through masturbation. Bebe was only too aware of the feral animal that lurked just below the smooth golden surface of her skin. Although she routinely protested the revealing dresses and skin-tight costumes the agency insisted she wear, in moments of true honesty the blonde singer had to admit that she was subconsciously saying, Hey, look at me! as she undulated on the stage, hips grinding, pelvis thrusting, short skirt flaring up to show sheer bikini panties and the shadowy triangle of her softly-curling pubic hair.
Bebe tried to tell herself she didn't want things like the fast, violet-hued car which had cost over twenty-five-thousand dollars (and was paid for by the agency) and the adulation of millions of young, teenage fans, and the constant exposure on television talk shows and specials, where she was sometimes called "the girl-type Johnny Cash," a phrase invented by some flack.
If she didn't want it, why did she work so hard to have it? she sometimes asked herself in moments of torturing honesty.
You want it-shut up and go get it! an inner voice replied. It's your thing, so do it the best you can, and maybe the rest of it will all settle itself in time.
"I can't stay that long, if I am to get back to the city tonight," Fargo said, pulling her away from her personal thoughts. "I can stop at a drive-in for a hamburger, Miss Bebe."
"Nonsense!" she snapped, immediately regretting the curt tone of voice, and trying to soften her next words as she smiled at the flustered teenage youth. "Fargo, I've had a trying day. I don't want to be alone-to eat alone. I was thinking of going out to a restaurant, but just by myself would be worse than staying here in this big house. Now, I have to view this tape, and I would really like to know what you think of it, because you're a young man, close to the age of most of my fans, and I think your opinion would be very valuable to me-you know, if you think something should be cut out. It's a late-night show and they make some sort of blue remarks and it'll be important to me to find out if any of the talk turns you off." Bebe smiled again, winsomely as she added, "I can't judge myself ... maybe I say some things that are all wrong for what the agency calls 'my image' and you could help me pick those things out."
"Miss Bebe, I bet you never said a dirty word in your life!"
"Oh, I have," she assured him. "But I try to keep them under my breath, Fargo." She brightened suddenly. "Now that I'm not alone, I might allow myself the drink I've been thinking about for hours. I don't suppose you drink."
"My family always has wine at meals," he said shyly. "And I like a beer-when I can swipe one from my old man's six-pack."
"And I used to smoke Bull Durham back of the barn too," the vivacious singer said with a hearty laugh. "A beer you get."
With an unintentionally-saucy roll of her well-turned buttocks, the same movement she used when on the bandstand grinding and belting out a song, Bebe strode to the kitchen and checked the refrigerator. Three six-packs of beer, long-untouched, were there thoroughly chilled. In a cabinet were bottles of bourbon, Scotch, vodka and gin, all covered with dust. She uncapped a bottle of imported beer and, after some deliberation, decided to make a bourbon and soda for herself. She could not remember when she had last had a drink at home. Weeks certainly, maybe months. She kept the liquor only because from time to time agency or studio people came on business and it was expected she would offer some refreshment. But now, thinking of the virile young teenager in the high-vaulted living room, and with her loins still churning from the abortive sex she'd attempted with Skye Brent, she needed something to calm her nerves.
Oh my God, NO! she suddenly said to herself, realizing that she had been thinking in fantasy of young Fargo Gonzales as a sex partner-and the kid was barely half her age!
Bebe took a minute to compose herself. She put the beer and drink on a tray, along with a dish of mixed nuts, and carried them back to the living room. Fargo had found himself a seat on a leather-upholstered sofa facing the darkened glass eye of the television. He stood as she entered the room, and his movement brought to mind the question of how long it had been since a male had risen at her entry-or that of any other woman. Somehow the display of old-fashioned courtesy touched her, and she smiled her appreciation.
"Are you starving?" the flustered blonde asked as she bent low to put the tray on the teakwood table. She realized only after she was in the position that the loose, low-cut bodice of her minidress had fallen away from the firm, creamy mounds of her breasts, and that the boy couldn't pull his eyes from the coral-tipped fullness, and that he could surely see the out thrust tips of her nipples. Blushing, she continued to speak, but without straightening up, because that would have told him she was embarrassed too ... and anyway, the exigencies of show business, where complete changes of costume sometimes had to be made in less than a half a minute, had of necessity bared her body to male eyes in the most casual of ways. "I can start the potatoes and vegetables cooking, and while they're going, we can watch the tape. I have some beautiful steak, and that only takes a few minutes."
"Whatever you want, Miss Bebe," he said, his dark, handsome Latin face flushing as his brown eyes reluctantly lifted from her openly-displayed cleavage and managed to meet her own violet orbs without flinching. Knowing she had caught him looking, the shy teenager tried to find something to say, a way to divert both their attentions from the unnerving circumstance. He quickly poured beer into the chilled glass and tasted it, smacking his lips. "This is really good beer! American beer they make from chemicals, you know. They make it without what you call calories, so the women won't get fat." He grinned. "So they drink it all day and they get fat anyhow. A Mexican would rather have a glass of wine."
"I think there is some wine ... I'm not sure...." Bebe said.
"Oh, no, Miss Bebe." He flashed the fine white teeth, framed by a full, sensitive mouth. "I can have wine at home-and I would not know good wine anyway. But this is fine beer."
"It's from Holland," she said, moving to sit with a comfortable distance between them. "And I want you to stop calling me "Miss Bebe"-it's not necessary. Everybody else calls me just 'Bebe' including the janitor, and you are much more important to us all than the janitor. So, Fargo, it's 'Bebe' from now on. Si!"
"If you wish," he said. "But I am only the band boy, and happy to be that."
"Oh, don't give me the poor peon bit!" Bebe retorted. "You're a young, handsome man and you're doing a very important job! Where would we be without someone like you to pack up all the instruments and amplifiers and scores and see that they get where they're supposed to go, and then set them up, and take care of all the other things? I'll tell you-we'd never get anything done!" Impulsively she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and said, "If we didn't have you, Fargo, we'd have to invent you!"
Glowing with pride, blushing and feeling wild male arousal at her impulsive kiss, Fargo Gonzales realized that this beautiful blonde chica, the one millions of young people were flocking to, really thought of him as something more than just another chicano burro. She was lovely, not only in her beauty, but as a person. She cared about him as a man who was doing a necessary, important job, work deserving of respect.
It was beyond belief, to be in this magnificent house with this most beautiful of all creatures. He felt a blush rising in his face as he thought of how many nights he had lain awake in his musty room in the barrio, summoning up visions of her long-legged, high-breasted beauty, had in his mind slowly stripped her naked and caressed Bebe into wild passion until finally, with a groan of uncontrollable desire, she had dropped to her knees and buried her beautiful face in his young loins, eagerly, wantonly sucking his throbbing cock up between her beautiful lips and licking and nibbling it until his sperm had wildly cascaded into the hot cavern of her mouth and down the gulping white column of her graceful throat....
And then his punishing, grasping hand had clenched with unbearable tightness around the length of his young manhood and he had lewdly jetted his hot, thick semen on the sweat-stained sheets.
And now here he, Fargo Gonzales, school dropout, was actually in Bebe Randolph's own home! He was drinking a beer she had brought him, and she was going to cook him dinner and they would watch a tape of her latest television appearance-he would be seeing it before any of the public, and she was going to ask for his opinion of her performance.
The sheer magnitude of it dazzled the young Mexican-American. He hoped he could go on working with Miss Bebe and the combo for a long time. He had his own wild hopes and dreams, and he kept telling himself he had done the right thing in quitting school and making a job for himself.
In the ghettoes, youth is fleeting. By the age of six, a chicano boy is an accomplished thief. By the age of ten, he is pimping for his sisters. Fargo Gonzales had done these things, and others, through necessity. He was not proud of it, and he was trying to get out.
While his strong young body strained to carry the heavy amplifiers and other equipment and he ran, not walked, with sandwiches and coffee, he watched and listened and learned. He learned gestures and speech, and he was learning to play a guitar, and how to phrase a song, how to perform. He would have done it all without a cent of salary, just to learn, and craftily, to meet people who might help him in years to come ... the agency people, the booking agents. Sammy Davis Jr. had once bought him a Coke and told him he had a very expressive face, if only he could learn to control his eye movements....
Watching Fargo, Bebe Randolph could see the handsome youth was lost in some reverie of his own. She knew all his waking thoughts were on show business, and wondered if he had forgotten her presence. She studied him, and inevitably, her eyes moved to the crotch of his tight jeans.
What met her gaze was unmistakable! He was hard! The long outline of his youthful cock was throbbing against the tight fabric, and she could see a dark stain of pre-seminal fluid seeping through it. His balls were pushing out below, and she wondered if this was for her.
Was he day-dreaming about making love to her?
Well, they all did, she told herself. And Fargo Gonzales would be more likely to do it than most, imagine himself in the most erotic, even obscene and lewd postures with her than most others, because he was exposed to her so much.
Bebe wondered what it would be like to be in his position, a teenager worshipping a blonde goddess created by the mass media, without any hope of attaining the impossible goal. She honestly wondered how some of them managed to restrain themselves ... wondered how often how many of them got on a high watching her or hearing her voice on tape or records, and then vented their sex frustrations on their teeny-bopper girl friends. With a quick movement, she raised her glass and drained it.
"Fargo, I'm going to start dinner now," she said, combing her long blonde hair back from her face with delicate fingers. "Then we'll have a look at the tape."
She had to get away, even for a few minutes. In the kitchen Bebe Randolph hastily ripped open packs of frozen vegetables, barely pausing to read the directions before dropping them into appropriate pots. She found two large Idaho potatoes and stuck them in the oven. She took two T-bone steaks from the cooler and smeared butter on them, then salt and fresh ground pepper and put them aside. A packet of minestrone soup mix went into a pot and onto the stove. Bebe was not an expert cook but she was efficient. She could take several dishes, each requiring a different cooking time, and get them all on the table at once. In less than ten minutes, dinner was on the way.
The potatoes would take an hour-the other things could be put on the fire in accordance. The time would be enough for her to audit the TV tape. She fixed a second drink for herself, after peeking into the living room and seeing Fargo had barely touched his beer. She fed the video tape into the playback machine and settled down on the sofa to watch it with critical eyes. The scene which began to unfold in full color could be very important to her within the next few months, or the next year. It was the top late-night talk show, or a major segment of one. The host was casual, witty, and had magnificent timing. He could do more with a questioning glance than anyone else in the business could do with a five-minute monologue written by the top writers in the country. One despairing shake of his head, and careers fell apart. A smile at the right instant made millions.
Bebe Randolph's segment was not part of a regular broadcast. She did two numbers, and bantered with her host, but the bit was one of three which would be assembled at a later date in order to provide a show while the host was on vacation. It would all be put together so expertly that the home viewer would never realize he wasn't watching one single show, but looking at bits and pieces which had been carefully edited together.
Propping her chin on her delicate hand, Bebe leaned against the back of the oversize leather sofa and gave her image her most critical eyes. She didn't like the sound track too much from the start, but knew the technicians would fix it, and dismissed it from her mind. She was most concerned with her visual image and the way her responses to the chatter came through.
Her opening number went well. She was wearing a silver-sequined micro-mini, cut low in front to show cleavage, and very short, exposing the sleek, well-turned length of her thighs. She wore calf-high boots with exaggerated heels to emphasize the length and beauty of her legs. She decided her body language was good. And then, handing the mike to the announcer, she saw herself striding beautifully to the guest chair beside the host's desk, and sitting down, crossing the long golden legs.
"Ooooh, nooooo...," she whispered.
The dress had been shorter than she realized. When she sat, it rode up her thighs, exposing the rich, full hemispheres of her tight-muscled young buttocks and even giving a suggestion of her soft-furred cuntal slit in the fragment of time during which she was crossing her legs. Maybe only a tenth of a second, but it was there! She knew she should have worn panty hose that night, but the makeup guys had assured her there was nothing worth worrying about, that hose caught the light and looked artificial and she would come through much better with natural flesh tones. And she had believed. Well, she consoled herself, Credence Cleanmind, the legendary network censor, would catch the flash and chop it.
"What's the matter?" Fargo had heard her gasp of dismay, and he reached out without thinking, covering her hand with his own. The contact with her flesh sent an electric shock through his young body, and then he didn't want to pull away, because he was afraid she would think he was some kind of kid jerk. "I think it's great so far!"
"If you didn't catch it, I'm not going to re-run it for you," the distressed blonde whispered, suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of his hand over hers. "Maybe just my imagination, Fargo."
He did not move his hand. She made no move to withdraw hers. There were no more glimpses of her pussy barely shaded by sheer panties. The chatter was not, so far as she could judge, objectionable, and her closing song went well. All considered, she thought, it was a good taping, although she wished her skirt had been a bit longer. It was one of those which was perfect when she was on her feet, but as soon as she sat down, it went out of sight. Well, if that's what they wanted....
Bebe glanced at her watch and realized it was time to get back to the kitchen, or the meal would burn. Unwinding her long shapely legs, the voluptuous blonde stood-and only as she moved did she realize that in concentrating on the videotape, she had unconsciously grasped Fargo's strong young hand tight in her own slender fingers. She almost pulled him to the floor. Blushing, she forced herself to laugh as he stumbled.
"See how wrapped up I get in myself!" she said, forcing gaiety. He grinned and stood beside her, and for the first time she realized how tall he was-how handsome and lean and male. He was almost six feet tall, and through the thin fabric of his sports shirt she could see the trembling young muscles of his torso. In comparison with his narrow waist, his shoulders seemed wide almost out of proportion, yet she could see he was really snake-lean. His biceps were long-muscled-Fargo Gonzales would never have his picture in any beefsteak magazines.
Involuntarily, her wide violet eyes dropped to his loins, and she saw the long, thick outline of his teenaged cock was still bulging unmistakably. This brought mixed sensations to her confused mind. On one hand, as a mature, sensuous woman, she was overwhelmingly pleased to know she could arouse such a handsome young boy. On the other hand, she was deeply distressed when she admitted to herself that she wanted him to feel a sexual need for her, even though any such thing was out of the question.
He was a mere boy, no matter how much of a man's job he did.
The only thing to do, she told herself, is to play it lightly. Shove your arousal into the background, and try to be sort of like Big Sister, you know, like casual. He has girls ... he must have more girls than any teenage kid would need....
"Come on," she said, forcing a lightness in her voice. "I hope you know how to make a salad. Everything else is working, but I can't even cut a common tomato."
"Ensalada mixtada," Fargo said, not letting go of her hand as she led the way to the kitchen. "I can cook Mexican, Miss Bebe."
"Just-plain-Bebe!" she corrected.
On the stove and in the oven the various components of the meal were cooking on schedule. She popped a loaf of French bread, split and slathered with garlic butter, into the oven. Bebe was amazed at the way the boy set about making the salad, and then searching through cabinets to find the proper plates and bowls. It was like he had worked in the kitchen for years. The thick T-bone steaks went under the broiler and came out in five minutes, blood-rare.
With soft music filling the room, they ate, almost in silence, talking only with their eyes. Bebe Randolph felt the mounting pressure, the pure, carnal physical need, and she tried to fight it. But the light talk that might have diverted her lewd desires escaped her. Fargo Gonzales was so young, so slender, so handsome-so beautiful in every way. And his eyes could not stay away from her. He could not understand how this was happening, that this beautiful Anglo chica would be sending out such vibrations, but his Latin blood told him it was happening. Something beyond belief for a chicano boy from the East L.A. ghetto. And he knew her, knew her well from having been around her for months. This was no hot-pants pig ... this was a lovely woman who did not give herself without reason.
And what reason could she possibly have to give herself to him?
It was beyond his comprehension. He only knew he had to have her. And as a man, not as a boy.
Never in his life had Fargo Gonzales had such a meal, and in such a situation! The most beautiful, most desired woman in America feeding him bites of steak which must have cost five dollars a pound! Everything prepared by her own hands, except his poor salad. Her deep, huge violet eyes melting when they fastened on his face. Dios!
And springing up to bring coffee and Chantilly cake so light it was like feathers in the mouth, and reaching out to touch him.
Nobody would believe, out along Pico Boulevard.
The last morsels of steak had been consumed, the last cream-dappled bits of cake eaten, and the coffee pot was empty. For a time they sat, side by side but not touching except for their hands. Bebe could feel her hand shaking in his, and the dampness of his palm.
She knew what was going to happen, although they had not spoken a word for nearly half an hour before Fargo Gonzales cleared his throat.
"This is a beautiful house," he said. "I would like to see all of it."
"It's just another house," Bebe managed to say. "But come."
She led him through it, subconsciously saving her big bedroom for the last. He exclaimed over the heavy-beamed Spanish ceilings and the fireplaces and paintings and the vastness of the rooms. His entire family lived in an area smaller than one of the guest bedrooms, he told her in awe. From the terrace, they could see the harbor lights twinkling far below, and the cars and trucks speeding past on the Interstate Highway. Bebe's footsteps slowed as she showed him to the third level, where her bedroom rose like a tower. The lighting was a soft, pale amber.
"And this is ... the end of the tour," she whispered, not daring to look directly at him. She stepped backward until she was at the wide glass doors that opened onto the terrace, conscious of what she must look like to him, with her long golden hair tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes smoldering dark in her face, her body almost naked under the thin micro-sheath that was cut off just below the rich curve of her buttocks, with unfettered breasts thrusting tantalizing, nipples hard and long.
Fargo Gonzales looked at her, and he knew now she was his to do anything with. She might be a beautiful Anglo, the sex goddess of teenagers, a woman with a voice that would make her first million this year. But right now she was his! He could do anything he wanted to her! He could tell her to get down on her knees and take his hot cock in her hands and pump it and then put it in her beautiful mouth and suck on it until he spilled the hot load of cum from his aching balls down her throat-and she would do it!
Why she would do it, he didn't know. But he knew women. He had seen the same feral expression on some hundreds of faces-sure, most of them were teenagers, but the chicano girls grew up fast, and a woman is a woman and he knew Bebe, whom he had worshiped, was no different from all the rest.
She wanted him to fuck her!
Well, he would fuck her. He would fuck her until she screamed for him to stop! Ram his cock into her pale Anglo flesh until she begged for mercy. Make her know what a man was!
He would drive her wild! And yet, beautiful as she was, kind to him as she had been, she had a right to her pleasure. It was something for them to work out together ... the better he was for Bebe, the better she would be for him. Panting, he felt his palms grow damp in anticipation. He read in her eyes the sure knowledge of what was going to happen, and her acceptance of it. There was a corner fireplace, and as he watched, she went to it, took a match from a holder on the mantle, snapped it into flame and bent to light the tinder under logs which were ready.
As she bent over the fireplace, her short skirt rode up the smooth-fleshed columns of her thighs, baring the soft roundness of her taut buttocks. He could see the tight-clenching division of her ass-cheeks, and even the tufts of pale hair fringing her cunt through the sheer panties she wore. The flames leapt to life and an orange glow filled the big bedroom as she slowly straightened and turned toward him. She stood motionless, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of her full-sculpted breasts, with the hard, sharp points of the nipples pressing against the thin material of her dress. Her full sensuous lips glistened and her tongue-tip flicked nervously across them.
Damn! She knows she's gonna get it! the Chicago boy exulted.
Oh, Bebe, are you gonna get it! All the cock I can ram up that tight little cunt! I'm gonna fuck you out of your head!
Inside his tight pants, his penis was throbbing with need, and a hunger so great that it pained him. He had to get it into her! Skewer her, impale her on his long hardness turn her on! He wondered if she'd ever been really turned on by fucking, and with his instinct thought probably not-because Bebe didn't fuck around. In his job, he knew what was going down anyplace, any time, and he knew Bebe didn't spread it around. Not that she could ever be cherry hell, she was almost thirty-but nobody was regularly banging her, of that he was sure. Fargo had the idea that maybe something had happened with Skye earlier in the day, the way Skye had gone hauling ass, and Bebe had seemed like her head was fucked up when she left the studio, but on the other hand, that could have been due to a lot of other things.
Whatever happened, she needed a fuck now.
The violet-hued dress was fashioned of raw silk from Hong Kong. It was held together down the front by not buttons or zipper but studs, similiar to a man's cufflinks, fashioned from the finest Mallorcan pearls set in platinum-another touch decreed by Matt Matthews at the agency.
Bebe Randolph watched the olive-skinned boy move sinuously toward her. His dark eyes captivated her, as the eyes of a snake might freeze a bird. She could feel her heart pounding. She saw the rigid, long outline of his penis straining against the front of his pants, the dark spot of pre-seminal fluid, and the thick bulge of his testicles cramped into the fabric. She wanted to cry out, to run away-and she could not move. She knew that this virile young Latino could do anything he wanted with her or to her, and she would be helpless to resist.
Surrendering, she dropped her eyes and stood immobile as she felt his fingers deftly opening the pearl buttons, peeling the deep cleavage of her dress away from her ripely thrusting breasts, and his warm, soft fingers reaching into the tap to squeeze and capture her rapidly-lengthening nipples. She gasped at his touch and involuntarily swayed toward him, so that her loins met his, and she moaned in abject acceptance of whatever the youth wanted to do to her-or whatever he wanted to do to him.
She thought for a moment of how close she had come to taking Skye Brent's penis into her mouth just hours before.
Bebe knew that if this boy told her to kneel and suck him, she would do it.
She would do anything ... she could not help herself.
Trembling like a frightened fawn, she felt his hands moving over her feverishly-aroused flesh, pinching lightly, tweaking her nipples. And she could only moan in barely-restrained passion. She moved to put her arms around him and he pushed her away, and then began again, bending to kiss her breasts even as his fingers slid down the smooth column of her back and between her tight-clenched ass-cheeks, circling the tight-puckered rose of her anus as she jerked involuntarily toward him, grinding her wetly burning pussy up to the hot hard shaft of his cock.
Then he lifted his mouth from her breast and stepped back. With no waste motion, he stripped the short dress from her, letting it fall to the richly-carpeted floor around her booted feet. She stood, trembling, before his wild, lewd gaze, clad only in the nearly-transparent panties.
Fargo Gonzales groaned as he dropped to his knees in front of her, his strong young fingers clutching at the thin elastic band which circled her hips. In an instant, they were peeled down the golden columns of her shapely legs to her ankles, and Bebe had to either step out of them or trip.
His wiry arms encircled her hips, pulling her wildly quivering pussy to his mouth even as his tongue snaked out to find her soft, hair-fringed vaginal furrow and delve deep inside it. She felt his wet young lips close on her eagerly pulsing cunt and suck for a moment, and then he drew back, his long, curling dark hair tossing. His deep brown, liquid eyes flashing, he struggled to his feet and jerked at his heavy belt.
"Take my prick out!" he ordered.
Bebe paused for a second. It was not too late to prevent this, she thought, but even as she mentally said it, her body was moving forward of its own volition!
CHAPTER THREE
Fingers shaking, unable to look into his warm glowing eyes, Bebe slowly reached out and found the tab of his zipper. Willing herself to act, she jerked it downward, opening his fly. She reached into the gap and, with a gasp, realized he wasn't wearing shorts! The long hard length of his hot naked cock met her groping hand, and it fairly leapt out, standing sharply upright.
"Ooooohhh!!!" the aroused woman whispered, as instinctively her hand closed tight around the fleshy staff and began to pump it slowly. She looked down then and saw the fleshy foreskin rolling back and forth over the moist, plum-colored head. She had never handled a male wantonly like this before. Without being told, she used her free hand to unsnap his belt buckle. His jeans slithered down the olive-hued columns of his legs to bunch around his ankles. He kicked his boots off and then stepped out of his pants even as he pulled his shirt over his head and stood completely naked before her.
Should I make her go down on her knees? Fargo wondered. He was sure she would do it at his command-yet, something told him he would be pushing too far too fast-that he should bring her along slowly. Why screw up a lot of future fucking, to say nothing of what Bebe could do for him professionally-for a quick blow job?
For Chicano kids, a chance like this came once in a lifetime. He would be a damn fool to fuck it up, he knew. If he took it slow and easy, she would do it of her own accord, out of raging need to have him every way possible. In addition to which, Fargo liked Bebe, as much as he could like any woman. She had been decent to him. Now he pulled her to him, his deft fingers sliding up the damp, hot inner flesh of her fluttering thighs until they insinuated themselves into the softly curling blonde hairs of her pussy and slowly opened the flowering outer lips of her cunt. He heard her groan and felt her entire body begin to undulate in a lewd hunger against his probing hand. Her arms went around him and her sharp nails cut into the hard-muscled flesh of his lean back painfully. He moved his pelvis and forced the long hard length of his penis between her legs, rubbing it the full length of her wetly throbbing cuntal furrow.
Bebe Randolph buried her beautiful, passion-contorted face in the hollow of the young boy's neck and shoulder as she rocked her love-starved pussy back and forth over the hot spike of his manhood. This was so different than anything ever before! She knew Fargo was barely half her age, and that, while he thought he was seducing her. it was really the other way around. The surge of guilt which swept through her was nowhere near as powerful as her own needs. She did not care what happened, she had to have his virilely heated penis buried in her yearning loins. She sawed her pussy wildly back and forth on his rigidity and then, gasping, pulled away.
"The bed!" Bebe mumbled. "On the bed!"
Fargo Gonzales didn't hesitate. He pushed her backwards and Bebe fell across the big bed, her long, golden legs opening in obscure invitation, and she felt his lean, hard body coming down on top of her, pinning her writhing frame to the quilted coverlet. She fumbled and found the iron-hard length of his penis again and tried immediately to guide it into the hotly aroused slit up between her legs. She needed to be filled NOW!
"Oooooohh ... Oooooohhhhhh!" the aroused idol of millions of teenagers cried out urgently. "Get in! Get it in me!"
"Manana," Fargo said with a mocking chuckle, watching her writhe and thrash, humping her beautiful golden-haired pussy up toward the tip of his cock. The soft blonde curls that fringed her excited cunt scraped across his sensitive cock-head, sending thrill after thrill rippling through his abdomen. "Bebe, you are worth much more than a fast fuck."
Supporting his weight on his lean left arm, he moved over her. With his right hand, he brushed the burning hot rubbery head of his lust-swollen penis up and down the full length of her cuntal slit, parting the aroused outer lips with agonizing slowness. Then, as her wetly throbbing flesh flowered open, he moved a fraction of an inch closer, so the head of his thick rod of flesh was dipping into the heated secretions seeping from her cunt, and Bebe was hungrily twisting and thrashing and making little mewling sounds of unabated desire. Her clutching fingers reached for his rampant manhood, but again he pulled back, listening to the beautiful blonde recording star groan in frustration.
"You're torturing me!" she cried out, rolling her head, so the long, pale hair sprayed over the pillows. "Get it in!"
Instead, he continued to tease her with the dark-reddish tip of his cock, rubbing it over the sensitive upthrust bud of her clitoris, then down the eagerly gaping slit and even into the crack of her wide-splayed ass-cheeks to press tantalizingly against the tight rubbery circle of her tiny anus, bringing a new gasp of sensation from the shamelessly aroused singer.
Bebe's lust-filled eyes glazed at the sensations. She thought she would go mad if this boy didn't stop teasing her.
"You want it now?" he whispered.
"Oh, yes ... YES!" the blonde cried out.
"What do you want?" he taunted.
"I want you in me, damn you!"
"Say what you really want!"
"What else can I say?" Bebe groaned, grabbing at his loins.
"Tell me you want me to fuck you."
"I don't want to say that word," she gasped.
"Say it, Bebe! Tell me you want to be fucked!" he pulled back so there was no more contact between his penis and her cunt. From the tortured expression on her lovely face, he knew she was suffering ... but he was sure he would be better for her if she would break down completely, surrender her mind as well as her urgently demanding voluptuous body. He sensed the straining woman had never cum in her life and it was up to him to bring her that ecstasy. Young as he was, he knew women's bodies. And this one was ready to be a love-slave! "Tell me what you want!", Bebe panted in unfulfilled passion. She could not look up at the teenager's handsome face, and she tried to close her own ears to the words her mouth was about to speak.
"Fuck me," she whispered thickly. "Oh, for God's sake, fuck me ... NOW!!!"
Her limber body jerked upward, her quivering pussy lips trying to find his pulsating lust-hard cock-head again. Her hand caught its long hard length and pulled it down to the tight little mouth of her cunt, and this time the youth did not hold back as she guided it to the entrance to her deep, juice-flowing vaginal passage.
"Aaaaaahhhhh!!!" Bebe whispered as she felt the blood swollen head pushing against its yearning target and her soft moist flesh parting eagerly to welcome it. His hips twitched as he positioned himself over her lewdly split loins, and she pulled her smoothly rounded knees up, exposing the sweating plane of her genitals for his impalement. She could feel the urgent throb of his heartbeat through his pulsing penis, and she trembled in anticipation. His cock was like a burning-hot poker in her fingers. Instinctively, she pulled the loose foreskin far back on the shaft. "Now!" she pleaded. "NOW!"
With a powerful surge of his lean back muscles, the handsome boy thrust up into her wetly waiting cunt in one long, smooth, flesh-splitting stroke, and his sperm-laden balls slapped hard against the wide-stretched half-moons of her nakedly straining buttocks. Bebe reacted like she had touched a high-voltage wire. Her tense body erupted wildly, and her long legs flew out to either side and wrapped convulsively around his lunging body even as her sharp fingernails raked his back cruelly in passion drawing parallel lines of bright red blood. She heard him cry out in sudden pain, and then felt his animal strength as he rammed his hotly throbbing penis even deeper into her, punishing her yielding flesh.
And something happened which she could not believe!
With his tumultuous penetration, his savage splitting of her defenseless loins in one stroke, Fargo Gonzales set off a firebomb deep in her vitals. It was like nothing she had ever experienced-a sudden tidal wave of burning sensation that swept through her quivering belly, upward to fill the jiggling mounds of her firm, wide-set breasts and downward to turn her clamping thighs to jelly and make her very toes curl.
"My God!" Bebe screamed in disbelief and wonder at the top of her lungs. "I'm cumming ... I'm cummmiinnggg RIGHT NOW!!!"
She was totally overwhelmed, both physically and emotionally. Wave after wave of tumultuous sensation swept through her straining woman's body as she finally experienced the thing she had sought so futilely with other, older, more experienced partners in the past. She jerked and bucked in complete abandonment, and her heels drummed on his back and then on his heaving tight-muscled buttocks as she tried to draw his beautiful cock deeper and deeper into the hotly clutching well of her newly found womanhood. A jumble of thoughts kaleidoscoped through her stunned brain as she felt his long reaming cock skewering her wildly convulsing pussy and his heavy testicles, swollen with hot sperm, pounding against her lewdly jiggling ass-cheeks.
It just couldn't be-yet it was! She had cum with his first stroke and now she felt her cuntal reflexes building up their electrical charges for it to happen again.
"Oohhhhhh ... aaaaahhhh ... ummmmmm ... YES!" the aroused blonde chanted in near-delirium as she felt the boy's virile young penis fucking up into her belly with deep, burrowing strokes, pushing great waves of her delicate cuntal flesh ahead of its lust-swollen tip. She felt the wetness of their pubic hair matting together with each plunge, soaked by her woman-juices. And, with every punishing thrust of the fleshy piston, Fargo was grinding the base of his cock hard against her tingling clitoris, and each contact made her cum even harder, until she was sure she would go out of her mind. "Fuck me, oh, my darling, fuck meeee!!!"
Her sensuous lips peeled back over her fine white teeth, and her words were fuzzy with passion and the all-pervading ecstasy she was feeling.
Her fragmented mind could not understand it-how, by merely entering her body, this teenage boy could have set her off. The fact that Skye Brent had fucked her only a few hours before could not be responsible-if anything, that episode had turned her off because of the shattering discovery that he was on hard dope. By association, that fact alone should have made her irresponsive ... yet she was going wild under this handsome insatiably-fucking young boy!
Fargo could hardly believe it himself. He had never had a woman respond so, and particularly an Anglo. They were cold fish compared to the Latinos and the bloods he was used to fucking. He looked down between her long smooth legs and saw the wetly glistening shaft of his penis surging in and out of her hair-lined, pink cuntal opening. He felt the blood run from his raw-scraped back and stain the expensive coverlet and their lewdly entwined bodies. With any other woman, he would have hit her hard across the mouth for marking him that way, but this he took as a tribute to his own machismo. He cupped his hands over the firm upthrust mounds of her milk-white breasts, squeezing, rolling the distended nipples between his fingers and watching the way her beautiful violet eyes rolled back in her head as the continuing orgasm racked her body.
Damn, I might fuck her to death.' he thought, slowing the jack-hammer pistoning of his long virile cock into her tightly clasping pussy. But Bebe only cried out and began to screw her tight little cunt more and more violently up and down the rampaging shaft of his manhood, and he felt her fingers reach between their straining bodies to urgently close around his balls, squeezing so hard it hurt. Even as she thrashed beyond control up to his loins, he suddenly pulled back, jerking his eagerly pulsing cock from the tight ensheathing flesh of her cunt with a wet, squishing sound.
"Noooooo!!!" the aroused folk-rock star cried.
"Roll over-get on your hands and knees!" Fargo panted.
Her mind spinning, her entire naked body on fire and quaking in the fury of her sustained cumming, Bebe rolled over, not knowing what to expect next, but willing to do anything Fargo wanted, just so long as he would keep his thick beautiful cock in her. She felt his sweating hands positioning her, holding her hips, spreading her quivering ass-cheeks wide, and then his legs were forcing her thighs wide apart as he pushed her down until the sensitive tips of her jiggling breasts were flat on the bed.
"Now-put it in again!" he ordered, panting.
Bebe, her face contorted, her long mane of now-tousled pale hair flowing over the bed, looked down through the swaying valley of her inverted breasts. She could see the excited juices dripping from her pussy, feel them running down the insides of her smooth-fleshed thighs. And she could see his long hard cock throbbing between her widespread legs. Moaning, she reached down past her belly, grabbed the slippery shaft that was so hard and hot and guided it between the ragged flanges of her passion-thickened pussy lips.
Fargo lunged forward, his pulsating hardness slipped in ... in .. in, and Bebe cried out, "Eeeeyy yaaassss!!!"
The naked recording star knew he couldn't be any deeper in her straining body than he had been before, yet, in this position, it seemed like his virile pole of flesh was boring right into the depths of her trembling belly, inches further than anyone had ever been. She felt his cum-filled balls grinding against her clitoris as she lewdly swayed the milky-white half moons of her buttocks up at him and humped back with a wanton eagerness.
"Oh God, it's big!" she gasped, churning her loins back, trying to absorb every centimeter of his rampant maleness. "Oooooooohhhhhhh ... Faaaaarrrrrgggggooooo ... FU-FUUUCCCCKK MEEEEE!!!"
Furiously, he began to screw in and out of her wetly seething pussy, watching her soft pink cuntal flesh wrap itself around his thick pistoning shaft like a tight, wet glove. He saw the straining of her back muscles as she fucked furiously, trying to absorb every bit of him. All the while, the blonde older woman was moaning and crying out, actually screaming. He had never known a female could cum like this! Certainly not this blonde goddess whom he knew full well just did not fuck around!
Damn, what a piece of ass! Although he was not short of sexual experience, Fargo had never in his wildest dreams imagined he could turn a woman on this way-particularly one like Bebe. He wondered if he was really the cause, or if he had just happened to hit her at the right time? Whatever it was, he wouldn't question his good fortune. After he took care of her like this, she would come crawling and begging to him. She would buy him presents and see that he got the breaks he was looking for in showbiz. She would give him money and she would give him her body any time he wanted it.
After this, she would be his total slave.
Even as he fucked wildly into her wildly thrashing body, Fargo was planning his future moves with a shrewdness that comes only to those who have been forced to take advantage of every little thing that looked like an opportunity in order to survive.
He told himself he knew women. He was sure that, once the wild fire in her loins had been quenched, Bebe Randolph would be overcome with remorse of the deepest kind. Because he was just a kid and she was a mature woman, if for no other reason. She would make some futile effort to see this never happened again.
Small damn chance. She would be screaming for his cock like a wounded eagle, and she must be made to beg for it any way he'd let her have it. Now she was twisting her head, facing back to him with her full, sensuous lips heavy with passion, her tongue wetting them, making them glisten.
Next time, baby, it goes in your pretty mouth, Fargo said to himself as he fucked wildly into her tight steaming cunt. You're gonna drink my cum ... gallons of it!"
"Aaaaaahhhh aaahhhhhh ... uuuuuggghhh!!!" the passion-wracked blonde chanted in near delirium, as the hot pole of flesh continued to spear in and out of her ecstatically convulsing cunt. She was on the verge of exhaustion, and yet looking back and up at her laboring teenage lover, she saw he was fresh as ever, even though his dark, curling hair was tumbled down over his forehead. The successive overwhelming waves of her orgasm almost entirely drained her sweating body of the physical ability to respond, and now she was being pummeled mercilessly by his virile young cock. She gasped and pleaded, "Cum, Fargo! For God's sake, cum before you kill me!"
Before I kill both of us, the striving youth amended silently. His back felt like it was going to break, and the limber muscles of his legs ached from the frantic lunges into her wetly yielding flesh. His sperm-bloated balls felt as if they would burst at any minute if he didn't empty their steaming load into her hot little cunt. Grasping her swiveling hips, Fargo rammed himself in wild violence into the heated well of her pussy and felt his cock begin to swell, get even more rigid and longer.
And then the great molten flood was triggered by a fresh wave of shudders which shook the straining girl as her shoulders dropped to the bed and her madly rotating ass-cheeks were thrust toward the ceiling helplessly.
"I'm cumming, Bebe!" he cried out, his lips peeling tight back over his strong white teeth, his face contorted in a grimace. "Fuck back! Fuck up on me!"
With her last remaining strength, the ravished blonde singer tried to comply. She felt the incredibly deep boring of his penis into her sorely stretched cunt, and then the hardening and swelling of his manhood.
She knew he could be only seconds away from climax, and she somehow found the strength and muscular coordination to match the moment. In the depths of her belly, she could feel the bulbous, rubbery head grow to immense size as it battered without let-up against the mouth of her cervix. Urgently, she reached a hand back again between her wide-splayed thighs and captured his heavy balls, squeezing them, feeling them as they drew up to his wildly fucking abdomen. She moaned as she felt the first searing-hot eruption of his thick cum in her vitals. Squirting wildly like a fire hose, his penis exploded in the steaming depths of her cunt, his semen mixing with her own viscid cumming. She thought his fresh young sperm would never stop flooding her palpitating cunt, and she could hear the squishing sounds as it spewed along the length of her vaginal channel and his deeply embedded shaft to ooze through the lust-swollen flanges of her pussy and trickle down over his balls and then the quivering insides of their tightly-pressed thighs to finally puddle thickly on the expensive coverlet, staining it forever.
Thoroughly depleted, and even more thoroughly fulfilled than she had ever thought possible, Bebe fell forward, and his weight came down on top of her nakedly trembling body.
Their hearts beat wildly as passion subsided, and their mingled perspiration soaked the bed even more. The beautiful recording star lay unmoving, feeling her teenage lover's still-jerking penis gradually soften in the warm sheath of her cunt until there was no more to feel. He lifted his weight and rolled off her, his lips wetly kissing the sweat-slick column of her back.
Fargo sensed he had to do something to make her feel it was all right, to ease the guilt he was sure would soon overcome the ravishing blonde. He turned her on her side, pulling her to him and his skilled young fingers stroked her still-quaking hot flesh.
"You are so beautiful, my Bebe," he murmured, lightly kissing around her lax, lust-swollen mouth. "So good for me."
It wasn't at all hard to say. The words were certainly the truth. He'd never had such a wild fuck in his life!
"Oh Fargo ... Fargo...." Bebe whispered back, drawing his mouth down to hers, parting her lips for his tongue, drawing it deep into her wanting mouth. Mixed emotions surged through her satiated body. She knew it had been wrong, letting this happen, encouraging it, actually seducing the teenage body. She told herself it must never happen again-and she knew in her heart that it would have to happen again. And again. And again! He had given her something no mature man ever came close to duplicating. She sighed, "Fargo ... darling...."
Even as she sighed out her contentment and utter completions, Bebe Randolph, in another compartment of her mind, was assessing the irreparable damage she had done to herself.
Her years of struggling in the showbiz jungle had not left her naive. She was sure Fargo felt something for her as a person, as a desirable and passionate woman. But he had so little himself, and such big dreams, and Bebe knew she was the perfect vehicle through which to make those dreams materialize. She'd had her unforgettable moment of ecstasy, of awakening as a woman. But what would the price be when the final bill was presented? She shuddered to think, as recollections of other performers who had found themselves in similar situations sped through her confused mind.
Fargo would be in an excellent position to blackmail her. Not demand money, but help in his still-distant career.
Already she was his love-slave. She knew she would have to have him countless times. Of course, she would willingly give him money in any reasonable amount. See that he had decent clothes and even a car. But would he be satisfied with that? Or would he want to advance himself by openly flaunting the fact that he was her lover-her stud! Bebe thought of several other stars she knew who openly carried on affairs with boys almost young enough to be their sons, even brought them on stage or into TV studios for appearances. While it didn't seem to hurt their careers-maybe even helped them, with all the mentions in the gossip columns-she could never envision herself in such a situation. Suddenly, betrayed by her own love-starved body, and, with the spectre of her religious upbringing arising anew in her mind, Bebe was miserable, even as her vibrant body fairly glowed in the embrace of her young Latin lover.
As though sensing her discomfiture, Fargo Gonzales shifted a bit lower in the bed until he could cup her lushly ripened breasts and, with skilled tongue and lips, kiss and lick them lingeringly. Bebe knew he would not be returning to the ghetto this night. His mouth on the resilient mounds of her breasts was comforting. She could not have endured another minute of sex, but she could not stand to be alone-not now!
"Let's get under the covers," Bebe whispered, her long, sleek body moving against his young, virile maleness. "We've got a lot to sleep on."
They slid between the rich, soft sheets, in the room that was musky-scented with their spent passion and their naked bodies entwined. Despite her fears and the terrible load on her mind, Bebe drifted off to sleep within seconds, smiling.
* * *
Early in the morning she half-awakened as the boy eased himself from the big bed and the warmth of her tightly-clinging arms and used the bathroom. When he returned, Bebe saw he was nearly erect again, and tried to avert her eyes in a futile attempt to quell the fresh surge of desire. Bright sun streamed through gossamer drapes over the window overlooking a flagstoned patio that was lush with Southern California vegetation. Fargo lay beside her and casually slid his hand up between her parted thighs, his fingers dancing over the soft warm lips of her cuntal furrow.
"We've got to talk," Bebe said finally, trying not to undulate her pelvis against his probing hand. "You know...."
"Sure, Bebe." He knew very well. He had lain awake for a long time thinking of all the possibilities. "I know what you're thinking ... I'm just a kid."
"You're a lot more than a kid," she said in a dreamy remembering as she reached for his virile young cock and fondled it. "You know what you did for me ... like no one has ever done before. And I'm not fool enough to deny it."
"I have never had such a woman," he said, grinning in the memory. "I hope you will not send me away now."
"Knock off the sweet talk," she said, pulling away from him to kneel on the edge of the bed, yet not releasing his now rock-hard penis. Her fingers toyed with the thick foreskin, drawing it tightly down the length of his tumescent staff until the purplish head filled with blood. Her other hand crept in between his legs and her fingernails lightly scraped the lightly -haired scrotum that was filling with sweet semen again. He moved to pull her on top of him, but she drew back, removing his hand from her trembling body. "Fargo ... we have to say certain things ... get our heads screwed on right." She tossed her head and the wheat-pale hair showered over her tanned shoulders. "What we did was wrong. Not for you, but for me. We both know it. No matter how ... how beautiful. I used you. I needed you desperately ... and you aren't a dumb Mex kid. You know how much I needed you."
"I could love you, Bebe," he said, dark eyes melting. True enough-he could. No female had ever given him so much, or promised so much. "If you want it."
"I-I don't know. It was all so quick," the confused blonde singer whispered even as her hand unconsciously stroked the length of his hot rigid penis. "I think I should tell you why it happened ... why I was so sluttish."
"You could never be a slut," the boy said gallantly.
"Oh, wasn't I?" Bebe retorted, almost bitterly. Then, composing herself, she told him about Skye Brent. It took a long time to find the words.
With no attempt to spare herself, she recited what had happened with Skye ... her surrender, his failure to satisfy her, his urging that she fellate him and how she had almost succumbed, stopping only when she discovered his narcotics addiction.
"Would you have sucked him?" Fargo asked. Looking away from his searching gaze, Bebe Randolph said in a whisper, "I would have ... I was so close to cumming ... but I know it would never have been like it was with us."
"With us, everything was right," he agreed. "Oh, yesssss...." Bebe sighed, slumping forward so her soft cheek lay against his hard-muscled young belly. In her delicate hand, his iron-hard maleness throbbed, and she could see a pearly drop of pre-seminal fluid oozing from the slit at the end of the mushroom-shaped head. It was so beautiful, this magnificent male organ which had given her so much pleasure! "You know how right it was, Fargo."
"I want your mouth," he said softly, undulating his hips in a universal pleading, stroking the soft mass of her hair. "Your soft mouth."
He heard her sigh, almost moan, and knew he had brought her to the next step. He reached down to stroke her sensually naked body and cupped her ripened breast, lightly pinching the rising nipple. Slowly she raised her head and turned to look directly into the dark pools of his eyes. For a long moment she was immobile and then she moved to kneel above him, slowly pumping his cock, making the whitish drop grow. The pink tip of her tongue slid over her parted lips, wetting them.
I can't, Bebe thought to herself. It's unnatural. I just can't do it. But I want to! Beneath her, his limber young body moved until her entire vision was filled with the deep-reddish roundness of his cock-head, swelling as her urgent fingers clenched tightly around the tree-like staff that ended in a curling dark mass of pubic hair, with his heavy balls below. She looked up into his eyes and realized how much he wanted her to do this. Sighing, she brushed her hair back from her face and bent over his loins. Only a fraction of an inch separated the soft wetness of her full parted lips from the rubbery round tip of his cock. She could feel the heat of his loins, and she steeled herself.
And then she lifted her head, mumbling, "Darling, I can't!"
"Touch me with the tip of her tongue," the boy said in a soft, compelling voice as his fingers deftly cupped her face and drew her head downward. "Just kiss for a minute."
Moaning, the pale-haired singer allowed her head to be guided until her flaring lips came in light contact with his heatedly pulsing cock-head. Of its own volition, her tongue seemed to spear out and lick at the salty-sweet droplet of moisture. The taste was electrifying! Spearing her tongue into the tiny hole, she sought more. And then without realizing what she was doing, the flat of her tongue was swirling around the soft, resilient warmth of his cock-head, licking furiously at the ridge of the glans.
"Now lick down and up the underside," he hissed.
In blind obedience, she took his throbbing young penis in her hand like an ear of corn and began to lick and nibble up and down its length, the tip of her tongue fluttering. It was as if she had done this many times before. She could smell the rich man-scent of his genitals, and impulsively she covered his sperm-filled balls with kisses, sucking first one and then the other into her mouth. She shifted on the bed, straddling his right leg until she felt his hard thigh muscle rubbing gloriously on the sensitive outer lips of her pussy. His long hard cock was glistening now with her saliva as Bebe moved her mouth upward a final time and then poised with her sensuously ovaled lips touching the tip. She looked up at him with her deep violet eyes and then felt his hands tangling in her mass of blonde hair, holding her head immobile as he slowly thrust his loins upward.
At the last instant she tried to compress her lips, close her jaws, but the pressure was relentless, and she yielded, letting her mouth fall open in warm invitation. She felt the huge intrusion of his mushroom-shaped cock-head pressing in, making contact with her tongue, unnaturally massive in her saliva-filled mouth. Steadily his hands were pushing her head down, lower and lower toward his curly triangle of pubic hair. She gulped and her nostrils flared as she fought for breath. She could see the thick, hot staff slowly disappearing into her gaping mouth, feel the rigid warmth of it going in and in and in, until the smooth head pressed the back of her mouth, almost making her choke. And then deeper, all the way into her straining throat until she had absorbed all of his pulsating thickness.
"Ohhhh, you've got a beautiful soft mouth," Fargo whispered, jerking his pelvis upward. "Keep your lips over your teeth and work your tongue around me."
"Ummmmmm...." Bebe moaned, trying to obey. She gulped for air. It felt as if her jaws were stretched to the breaking point, her inexperienced mouth was so filled. Beneath her, Fargo began to slowly raise and lower his hips, and his urgent fucking rhythm told her what she must do. With her tongue swirling along the underside of his hotly pulsating cock, she began to steadily bob her head up and down. She found this was better. She could gulp for air on the outstroke, as she drew her tightly ovaled lips upward until only his bulbous cock-head remained between them. Her cheeks hollowed and ballooned alternately as the thick rod of male flesh slid in and out of her devouring mouth. She began to suck, lightly at first, and then with more intensity as she was caught up in the carnal excitement of the act which was so new and suddenly exciting to her. Holding the base of Fargo's penis with thumb and forefinger, she began to expertly aim the throbbing staff so that it slid deeper and deeper into her throat, and she began to moan around it in a rising excitement as the vision of the lewd spectacle she must present filled her mind. Her fingers teased his swelling testicles, and she knew that in time they would erupt in her mouth-and she wanted them to! In her belly, she felt her own awakening, and wondered if she could cum herself while she was sucking him!
"Eat me, Bebe," the boy gasped. "Suck me dry!"
The now-insatiable blonde singer needed no urging. She moaned and twisted her hungrily sucking mouth around his virile shaft of hard flesh, and was carried away to the point where she bit down hard enough to make Fargo cry out and grab her head, stilling its wild up-and-down motion until she was in control of her passion again. She tossed her head from side to side as her lust-contorted lips slurped wetly up and down, trying to get his penis deeper and deeper into her spasming throat. From a great distance, she heard Fargo moaning and sensed he was on the verge of cumming even before his pistoning cock thickened and swelled so she could barely encircle it with her tightly-clasping lips. She felt him buck furiously up toward her diving face as her hair sprayed wildly over his jerking loins. And then his hands were holding her head tight while he fucked without mercy into her soft rounded lips.
The first hot spurt of cum almost choked the blonde singer as it gushed against the roof of her mouth and then down over her tonsils even as his wildly jerking plowed deep into her throat. Her cheeks hollowed and bloated as she tried to swallow fast enough to keep up with his cumming. She had never realized there could be so much! Despite her eagerness to devour him, thick strings of whittish sperm escaped the corners of her widely-distended mouth, trailing down into his dark pubic hair. The life-creating fluid burned her throat, salty and pungent yet she was relentless in her sucking. Voraciously her lips kept at the spurting cock until finally there was no more an; it softened under the passionate lashing of her tongue. Sighing she collapsed, exhausted over his sweating, depleted loins, her fingers still rolling his spent balls while the pink tip of her searching tongue found the last droplets of cum in the curly forest of his pubic hair and avidly consumed them. Her mouth was full of the rich flavor of his semen, her passion-swollen lips glistening with it, when she slowly raised her flushed face.
Fargo Gonzales drew her up to him and kissed her full on the mouth, tasting himself on her spearing tongue as she moaned and pressed her nakedly trembling body against his. Damn, he told himself, this sweet bitch really turns on all different ways ... have I got me something to play with!
Sighing with pleasure, Bebe lay in the handsome teenaged boy's arms. She knew she should be feeling overwhelming shame and remorse. Yet she felt beautiful, completed, with none of the regrets of the night before when she had wantonly yielded all her scruples and simply fucked like a slut.
Well, I'm a cocksucker now, Bebe ruminated. And I love it!
Deep in her still-churning belly, she could feel the thick hot pool of Fargo's cum. She knew she was totally lost now. He had her, irrevocably. She could only hope he would be good to her, return her love. If he ever left her ... she'd shrivel up and die!
* * *
Lost in their lewd thrashings on the big bed, neither Bebe nor Fargo had heard the motorcycle wheel into the grounds. This was a thing easily explained, beyond their passion, as it was one of the big 750 cc BMW bikes with gear drive. It could cruise all day at over a hundred miles an hour with virtually no sound except the whistling of the wind around it and its rider.
The bike was the personal property of Dalt Edwards, the Highway Patrol sergeant who, with his partner, had flagged Bebe down the night before. He had purposely not pursed her only-too-obvious invitation because of his riding partner, Bailey. Bailey would steal a fuck from a corpse. This was Dalt Edwards' day off, and he had thoughts of collecting for the speeding ticket he hadn't written when he should have thrown the whole citation book at the chick. The fact she had been doing well over 110 didn't bother him-she had obviously been in control of the hot Citroen, and he had driven it himself, so knew it was good. But seeing her make knots like that could lead some clown in a Buick to try keeping up, and there'd be blood on the highway. And hadn't the kooky cunt even jumped on his own Harley and taken off after them? Shit, if the captain ever heard of that caper, he'd be riding a mule in Big Sur!
Definitely, this hot-ass blonde owed him a fuck, and on this day Dalt Edwards had plenty of time to collect. He was not in uniform. He wore a suede leather jacket, faded jeans and cycle boots, plus an Aussie hat with brim turned up on one side, but he had not left all of the cop at home. He carried a stubby .38, as regulations required, and he always thought like a cop, meaning he looked around to see what was to be seen at all times.
Immediately he saw the wagon parked beside the Citroen, and muttered, "Girl has company."
With the grace of a hunting cat, he made a circuit of the big house. The bedroom was in the far corner on the upper level-at the height of the small hill. The thin mesh drapes concealed nothing of what was going on. He saw the voluptuous blonde-naked and even sexier than he had remembered-stroking a kid's cock. As he watched, he saw her bend over it and slowly take the boy's penis up into her mouth and begin to suck. The scene went on and on and on, until finally it peaked and thick strings of cum were drooling from between her gulping lips.
"I will be goddamned!" the sergeant whispered, moving to ease the pressure of his hardened cock in his pants. "A kid ... a damn Chicano kid! Well, baby we'll be back!"
CHAPTER FOUR
As she lay in the boy's embrace, feeling his lithe, almost-hairless body pressed to hers, Bebe Randolph was glad the taping had been finished the day before. She was sure that, after what she'd been through and discovered about herself, she would have neither voice nor timing. As it happened, there was nothing on the schedule before the start of rehearsals for a television special the following week. And it had been a long time since she'd had any time to herself ... she deserved a few days. She needed them in which to think, to find her new, wanton self.
She stirred as she felt Fargo's hands begin to caress her and his flicking tongue and lips move over her warmly tingling breasts and down over the soft curve of her belly. Before her love-glazed mind realized what was happening, the handsome youth had spread her legs wide and was kneeling between them, his thumbs drawing the moist lips of her pussy apart. She could feel his hot breath blowing through the tight golden curls which -rimmed her cunt. She twisted and clamped her legs tight around his face, holding him prisoner.
"Oh, nooooo...." the satiated blonde whispered. "No...."
"I want to," he mumbled. "After the way you did me...."
"I-I enjoyed it as much as you did," the beautiful recording star confessed. "But nobody's ever done that to me. My head is all mixed up ... it's too soon." She ran her slender fingers through his disheveled mop of hair. "If you really want to you can do it later. I know it'll be beautiful, Fargo darling. I want to be able to really let go. Understand?"
"Sure." Passionately he kissed the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs before moving up on the bed. Fargo had never dreamed he might have such an experience with Bebe, and he looked at his conquest with mixed emotions. He was intensely proud of himself for arousing and fulfilling this beautiful older woman when older men had obviously failed. God! How he'd love to parade her around East L.A. and let the guys see how a man handled women! But another part of his mind told him that he might be out as fast as he'd been in. If Bebe began having second-sensible-thoughts, Fargo knew she might send him away-with a suitable token of her gratitude of course-and that would mean losing the only brass ring he's ever grab in his underprivileged life. At this moment, while their bodies were in contact, he was sure he could do anything he wanted with Bebe, bend her to his will. If he really wanted to eat her pussy, her legs would be wide open, and she'd be breaking his neck with the urgency of pulling his tongue down into the sweet fleshy slit! Hell, with a little maneuvering, he could probably fuck her in the ass! He remembered the way she jumped when the head of his hot cock just touched the tight little rose the night before!
He wondered how it would be, to plunder between those smooth white globes, bury hot meat in her virginal back passage. Well, it was something to think about. Damn, tight as Bebe's pussy was, her ass-hole would probably strip the skin right off his cock! In a silent joke on himself he thought maybe it would be a good idea to get himself circumcised before he tried it ... and the more he thought of it, the more determined he became to sodomize his lovely mistress.
Meanwhile, he would do well to take out some insurance. The way to begin was to let her think he was leaving.
"Hey, honey," Fargo murmured, his tongue flicking into the shell-like depths of her ear. "I gotta go. Gotta take some of the electronic stuff to the shop. I just got myself on the agency payroll, and if I fuck up, Matt Matthers will fire my ass for sure."
Bebe turned to look at Fargo in amused disbelief as she chuckled and said, "You are a ... a bullshitter! You know full well nobody can fire you now." She pursed her lips in thought and continued. "We have to do some figuring. You're a smart kid, Fargo. I've been around. I'm not exactly a dum-dum. You're playing me like a Wurlitzer organ but that's all right, as long as we know what the rules are."
"A-Wurlitzer I can't play," he said with a mocking grin. "A sex organ, that's my style."
"Don't remind me," she shushed, blushing. "Now, we can work something out, and that doesn't include you blossoming out in three-hundred-dollar suits and a Cadillac-or we'll both be ruined. I could even go to jail for this! Now, what we might do until we figure it all out is this: You keep on just as you are, working yourself hard."
"Like a burro."
"Like a burro," Bebe agreed. "We'll get you an old car, but a good one, for a few hundred dollars."
"A Chicano kid's car," he said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "I can pick up a hell of a good Caddy eight or nine years old for four or five hundred."
"We can't meet here often," Bebe continued, "but we can find places. I'm too conspicuous, with the image Matt Matthers has created. That one-of-a-kind car and everything. I'm supposed to be recognized, and it'll be no good if I'm seen going around with you? Any ideas?"
He gave it some thought and said, "Maybe get a pickup truck and western style clothes. Second-hand. You know, faded jeans and cowboy shirts and a big hat. Wear a wig and dark glasses or something. Don't go places you've ever been before."
"Hey-it could work!" Bebe enthused. "Let's figure it out. Call the agency and say you're sick!"
Giggling like conspiring children, they began to plot. Bebe was amazed at the shrewdness of her young lover. He immediately picked up snags of which she would never have thought. He pointed out that one could never tell when some little thing could go wrong, such as ownership of the truck she would need being checked back to her. His solution was beautifully simple.
"You must buy a horse. And a trailer for the horse."
"Perhaps give the horse a ride in the trailer," he said, grinning at her confusion as she propped herself on an elbow, her firm-pointed breasts crushed against his chest hotly. "Chica, if you own a horse, you have reason to own a truck. The horse can be boarded somewhere. You never have to see the damn horse-just have one. Everybody has horses."
"I suppose so," Bebe conceded. "So far we've got an old Caddy, a pickup truck, a horse trailer ... how much does a horse cost!"
"For you it should be a good-looking horse. I have a cousin who trades in horses. A special price, no more than a thousand dollars. For a very good horse."
"My God, you're getting expensive," she murmured. But, her yearning woman's body said, you've worth every cent! It was only money, of which she had plenty and he had none. Bebe was sure she would not wind up owning the horse permanently. Nor the truck and trailer either. But she could have spent every dime she had and not found the delight this lean young boy had given her in one night. And the plotting made her feel like a teenager again!
Fargo went on to point out it would be necessary for her to have a place to switch identities, change from her flamboyant showbiz image to Western Girl. It was decided that one of the thousands of cracker box apartments in the San Fernando Valley would suit. Fargo had an uncle who was a real estate agent and would arrange to anonymously rent a place with enclosed garage. She wondered how many relatives he had.
It was an anticlimax to hear he had an older brother who sold trucks. Bebe felt she was not acquiring a lover but an entire family which probably had ties as far south as Acapulco.
"Look, Fargo," she said in final surrender. "Go buy it. Buy it all! Just don't rip me off too bad." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Buy what you want for yourself. When this ride is over, I won't want any of it." She clutched at him and pleaded, "Just be good to me for as long as it lasts ... Please! "
"It will last as long as you wish, chica," he said. His strong fingers pulled her legs apart and he slid low on the bed, his tongue working urgently on her trembling flesh, and he whispered, "I'm going to eat you...."
"Oooohhh...." Bebe mumbled, surrendering.
She writhed as his deft fingers drew the soft lips of her wetly throbbing cunt apart, and she felt his breath hot on the sensitive inner flesh. Then his lips brushed over the resilient blonde curls and involuntarily she thrust her sensually churning pussy up to his young, fine-boned Latin face, trembling at the ecstatic contact of his wetly heated mouth, against her most sensitive flesh. She heard him panting in anticipation of what he was going to do, knew he intended to enslave her even more, and she wanted him to! Sinuously her entire naked body began to respond to his oral ministrations. She cried out softly as the probing tip of his tongue fluttered up and down the wide-open mouth of her pussy like a crazed butterfly. Up and down it slid, wetting, arousing her, dancing from one wide-splayed cunt flange to the other, finally circling the button of her clitoris teasingly for a long minute.
And then his tantalizing lips were sucking the tiny penis-like organ up into his hungry wet mouth, and his teeth nibbled on it, just sharply enough to bring a soft gasp of mingled pain and pleasure. Her long legs scissored around his neck even as the full length of Fargo's hot tongue slithered like an eel up into the steaming depths of her wantonly grinding pussy. Bebe was sure she could feel the whirling tip fluttering against the mouth of her uterus.
"Oh my Goddddd!" she cried out as her hands yanked his sucking mouth tight against her lewdly excited cunt and she rolled and tossed on the bed. "Your mouth ... your beautiful mouth ... lover!"
Bebe groaned in frustration as she felt the hot length of his wickedly flickering tongue slip from the flexing folds of her cunt, and then gasped in new pleasure as it slithered up the wide-splayed crease of her ass-cheeks and whirled wildly around her tight little anus. She could not believe the sensations she felt! Then the wetly-burning tip actually penetrated the constricted rubbery ring, probing into her virginal anal passage. She drew her legs open wide and spread her creamy-white buttocks to give him greater access. Opposite the bed was a full-wall mirror and she could see the lewdly obscene spectacle their entwined bodies made, and it only aroused her further! She'd never imagined anything like having a young boy's tongue fucking in and out of her anus. A fragment of her mind told her he was using her, but she couldn't care! He was giving her something she had to have, something no man had ever been able to do. Bebe felt that she had finally become a woman, with all a woman's wild desires. She knew that eventually she must pay ... eventually!
Fargo knew the effect he was having on his sex-maddened mistress. He sensed every twitch and jump of her shamelessly aroused body and decided it was time to take her to the next plateau. He pulled his tongue from her ecstatically puckering anus and heard her moan in frustration, then sigh as he ran it up the wide-open lips of her cunt again and deep into the smooth heated flesh of her vagina. The warm perfumed juices were gushing into his sucking mouth already.
His head bobbing with the spasmodic jerking of her pussy mound, he suddenly pushed the outstretched middle finger of his right hand into her already-prepared rectum. He was ready for her sharp, sudden gasp of surprise and pain, and he only attacked her steaming pussy more urgently with his tongue and lips and felt her smooth ass-cheeks twisting and turning on his digit as it went in fully to the first knuckle and he began to rotate it in the warm most confines of her back passage, stretching the constricting muscle.
"Not ... so ... hard!" Bebe pleaded, but didn't try to escape the unnatural invasion. "It ... hurts!"
"It'll feel good soon," he mumbled without taking his slavering mouth from her eagerly quivering cunt. "Relax, Bebe. Trust me."
Helplessly pinned, the beautiful blonde singer had no choice. She closed her eyes against the obscene reflection in the mirror and felt his finger slide deeper and deeper into her clenched rectal opening until finally the wet, hard-calloused palm of his hand was flattened against her trembling ass-cheeks. And then he began to fuck his finger in and out so hard that his hand made a loud slapping sound against her wide-stretched buttocks, and she found herself grinding down against it, actually wanting more.
And then, further distorting her virginal rectum, a second finger slid in beside the first, making her cry out. But he had more to offer, she quickly discovered.
Fargo's sucking lips moved up the glistening wide-open furrow of her cunt and closed on her erectly throbbing clitoris and his tongue lashed it in a frenzy at the same moment his thumb invaded deep into her wet cuntal passage. He thrust and sawed his hand into her thrashing body as her fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling his cum-glistening face tight to her straining loins.
"Aaaaauuuggghhh!!!" the aroused blonde cried out in mingled agony and ecstasy, locking her legs tight around the teenager's head and jerking so fast her lower body almost became a blur. "I'm ccccuuumming aggainn!" Bebe screamed. "Oh, eat me ... eat me all up!"
In triumph. Fargo kept at her wantonly straining body until Bebe collapsed in a near-faint, unable to move as slowly his tongue and fingers stopped working on her. She lay limply, legs splayed wide, gleaming streams of cum oozing from the palpitating pink lips of her weary cunt. She managed to focus her eyes on his young, handsome face that gleamed with her vaginal juices, and after a long time, spoke in a near-whisper.
"Something else," she moaned. "You are really something else! I don't suppose you can cook too?"
"I can cook. Simple things."
"You know where the kitchen is. Make us something. While I lie here and think about what a beautiful way I almost died." Slowly she reached and framed his olive-hued face in her hands, her fingers tracing the fine bone structure. "You know women."
"I know what you need," he said calmly.
"So do I-now, Fargo. Could you ever love me?"
"I worship you, Bebe."
"That's not the same, and you know it!" she protested.
"If I let myself love you, I would only hurt both of us. Our worlds are different. I can give you something, and you can be very good for me. Let us take what we have while it is here."
She curled in the bed, satiated physically but discontent because she knew she had opened a Pandora's box and the winds would sweep her deeper and deeper into turmoil. She drowsed, and then he was back with a huge tray which suggested he had completely cleaned out the refrigerator and probably messed up every pot and pan in the house. It was a gargantuan meal of heuvos rancheros, scrambled eggs with bits of red and green peppers, link sausages, Canadian bacon, a thick slab of ham, a quart of tomato juice, toasted French bread, and jam and an immense steaming pot of coffee. He put the entire banquet on the bed and they sat nakedly facing each other. Bebe didn't think any two people could eat as much, but in half an hour not a scrap remained.
"I can't believe we ate the whole thing," Bebe sighed, repressing a burp. "I never thought you could cook too!"
He grinned at the compliment. He actually liked this chica, and felt sorry that, to insure his own future, he would have to hurt her-but just enough to keep her enslaved. It would not be a malicious hurting. But she had to be subjugated in a lasting way, before she came to her senses and her brain started doing the thinking instead of her cunt. It was time to go shopping.
Fargo Gonzales demonstrated his shopping ability quickly. Sitting naked on the edge of the bed, he used the phone. In half an hour he had bought a pickup truck, a six year old Caddy convertible, a horse, a horse trailer, and arranged for an apartment. At Bebe's insistence, he opened a charge account at a haberdashery on Hollywood Boulevard. That would be safe enough-the store handled the folk-rock combo's account anyway. He lay back on the bed as he completed the final arrangements to board the anonymous horse in luxury. His cock began to harden, and Bebe could not take her eyes from it. Even as the virile teenager talked on the phone, she knelt over his loins and took his penis up into her soft warm mouth, sucking urgently.
"Hey!" he whispered, cupping his hand over the phone.
"I can't let you go away with this!" she murmured. "You might meet a girl someplace." Her lips ovaled softly around the swelling head and her tongue circled the rubbery ridge, and she drew the long, thick throbbing length of him deep into her mouth and sucked until he gasped in pleasure and slammed the phone down, grabbing her tossing head.
An hour later, her mouth still rich with the pungency of the teenager's cum, Bebe soaked in her oversized bathtub and told herself she had to be the world's prize idiot of the day, to get tangled up like this. Yet her life had been pointless for so long. She'd made a lot of money and was certain to make much more, but what good had it done her? She'd been so lonely. At least this fifteen year old boy had brought her to life, made her a real woman. She was sure the eventual price would be high, and she wondered how long she could keep Fargo. He was no ordinary gigolo. He had ambition and determination. He would not be content to simply live off her. He would-take what she had and hopefully give good value in return, but in time he would have to do his own thing. He had too much pride to be just a fancy boy.
* * *
Sgt. Dalt Edwards was a patient man. He could wait. With his walkie-talkie, he had run a license tag check on the station wagon the boy was driving. He knew who it belonged to, but not who the boy was. He knew it would be heading for the city, and he parked his white BMW bike at a drive-in where he could watch the highway. When the wagon passed with the kid at the wheel, he radioed the substation for a routine stop-and-check. At a discreet distance, he gunned the hot bike behind, and saw a black-and-white CHP cruiser had the kid stopped. He passed and pulled over at the first turnout. The patrolman had what he wanted. The kid, Fargo Gonzales, was clean.
One thing puzzled him: Why would a hot singing star like Bebe Randolph be sucking a teenager's cock? Shit, she could have any prick she wanted, including his own. Particularly his own! He thought of how her mouth had looked, wrapped so tightly around the thick spear of male flesh, of how she had gone at it.
Well, if Bebe Randolph wanted cock, he had a cock for her. Damned if any punk was going to get that kind of stuff!
Sgt. Dalt Edwards was well-trained enough as a cop not to jump to conclusions. He would look carefully first. He twisted the throttle of the big bike and set off in pursuit of the station wagon, hanging well back on the freeway. The pattern which evolved confused him. The kid went to a dealer and apparently bought a truck. Then he bought a horse trailer and a horse to put in it. He met somebody and looked at an apartment. He went to a music store and came out carrying a guitar case, and by discreet inquiry Edwards discovered the case held a Martin full concert grand guitar which cost over a thousand dollars. He went to a haberdashery and spent a long time inside, and then he headed east, apparently for his home, at which point the sergeant dropped him. He already had enough confusing information to last him.
He thought of narcotics. The kid could be dealing dope, have Bebe hooked. His radio contact had already informed him the boy worked for her rock group. That would be the simple answer, but he didn't think it was the right one.
And, the handsome sergeant admitted to himself, what he really wanted was to fuck Bebe Randolph's ass right off the top of her beautiful long legs. Nothing else mattered!
After all, she'd just about invited him when he flagged her doing better than a hundred twenty....
* * *
Fargo Gonzales found himself very busy, and very pleased with himself and his efficiently at spending Bebe's money. He drove the new Ford pickup-four thousand bucks worth-to the apartment and locked it in the garage. He went to a nearby delicatessen and laid in a supply of food, intending to use the apartment himself and get out of the ghetto for however long he could. With money Bebe had given him from her wallet, he rode a twenty-dollar cab to pick up his Cadillac and discovered it was a real pussy wagon-although he sure didn't need any of that right now! He swung by the haberdasher and collected his purchases there. They went into the Cad's trunk with the guitar. He wondered if she would raise hell about the guitar, and thought not. If she did, he'd ram his cock up her hot little cunt and shut her up quick. He had no intention of looking at the damn horse. But he stopped at a western saddlery and carefully picked out the best saddle and tack in the place. He had never been on a horse, but now that he had access to one, he might learn to ride, and silver-mounted saddles were always negotiable.
Finally he headed east out Whittier to the ghetto. He put the big convertible's top down and turned on the FM stereo tape deck and gave the finger to his friends. In a friendly way.
They came from blocks around to admire and envy. Fargo told them he had been lucky in a crap game and they thought he must have hit a big liquor store with a gun. Finally, he put Maria Fuentes in the seat beside him and headed south toward San Diego. He had been formulating a plan, and Maria was a part of it.
She was a couple of years older than himself, raised in the same deprived way. A stunningly beautiful, light-complected Chicano girl who worked across town in a drive-in. There she had a chance to meet plenty of men-and women. She could and did go either way, and she always dug it-male or female.
"Who'd you rip off?" she said, lying back in luxury against the rich leather seat of the magnificent Caddy. "Watch out the fuzz don't bust you just for being in wheels like this."
"I got the paper on it ... and a hell of a lot more."
"Whatever's right," the Latin girl said, moving close to him and reaching between his legs to squeeze his soft cock. "You want to get sucked off at a hundred miles an hour?"
"A century an hour buys fuzz," the confident teenager said, not at all aroused. "And my prick is rented out to the chica that paid for this set of wheels."
"You're into something but big," the girl said.
"You want a part of the action?"
"What's the scene, man?" the lovely girl said, now suddenly alert. "Did she send you out hunting eating pussy for her?"
"I'll lay it on you when we're off the road."
Below Laguna Beach he found a secluded motel where the man at the desk looked only at his money. They went to a cottage with a bottle Maria had bought, being as she looked old enough. Casually they undressed and lay on the bed and drank the raw bourbon with 7-UP. Without telling her names, he laid the situation on her, and she nodded in agreement.
"You want to hang this chica up good. Cool!" She reached to fondle his cock. "What makes you think once I get my tongue in her hot little pussy she'll ever think of this dingle-dangle again?"
"I already gave her more head than you could," the boy said confidently. "I really dig this chica. She's people. But to keep her, I gotta have a handle on her. She fucks like a mink, and she could dump me-unless I hang her up good."
"So what's the scene?"
"I get her someplace. With some of the guys-ones who won't get out line ... grab a sweet fuck and suck, and you turn her on to eating cunt ... hot as she is, she'll go. We beat her down to her knees and make her love it. Then we all live good."
"But you live best of all," Maria countered.
"Why the hell not? Who found her?"
"I'll drink to that." The slender, high-breasted girl with the sleek olive skin drank deeply and with her free hand stroked his rising penis. She said, "Not up to a fuck, Fargo?"
"In your asshole."
"That really tears me up. How about a blow job?" The hot-blooded girl dove on his loins and captured his rising penis between her skilled lips, her tongue swirling.
"She's a better cocksucker than you'll ever be, and today was her first time," he said. "Roll over on your belly and get your ass in the air-I need the practice."
Sighing, the raven-tressed Chicano girl obeyed. She barely grunted as the long, thick shaft rammed into her obscenely exposed anus and his sperm-laden balls smacked against the tender lips of her pussy. Damn, but this young stud was big! And he knew what did the job. His pole of flesh was almost tearing her apart, but it was beginning to feel good. Twisting and churning, she ground her buttocks back, wantonly urging even deeper impalement. She knew he would make her cum ... and if this girl he talked about was anything close to what he claimed, she would be beautiful eating....
* * *
Unknown even to Sgt. Dalt Edwards, the Cad convertible was tracked, passed from one cruising patrol car to another. The officer who had made the stop at Edwards' request had not been satisfied when he found a fifteen year old Mex kid wheeling the Caddy, even though the papers were in order. He was a good cop, meaning he thought a lot and he read the books. He was also discreet. The sergeant had asked for the stop, and the sergeant would get the first word.
He reached the sergeant after 2 a.m. at his bachelor apartment in hills high above Hollywood and gave his report. Dalt Edwards digested the information. The trooper was young, with only three years of service. He would go a hell of a long way.
"Guess who gets his lieutenant's bar next week," Edwards said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Guess who inherits my sergeant's strips, if I have anything to say about it ... and I will!"
"Thanks." There was no need to say more. It usually took ten years to get stripes. Whatever he had done was right. "Anything more?"
"I'm going to Laguna. Phone me in sick."
Sgt. Dalt Edwards hung up. He showered, scrubbing the too-short sleep from his eyes. He debated his course of action. He might be onto something, or nothing more than a piece of sweet ass if he was lucky, and he decided to cover himself. He phone the narco squad of the Los Angeles Police and asked for a cover on Bebe Randolph. Then he dressed in civilian clothes and got his BMW bike out and headed south, using his radio to alert all substations and police departments to be on the lookout for the kid in the Caddy. He told them to cold-trail, stay back, He asked for an unmarked follow car and got it. He straddled the powerful cycle and made a vow-he was going to fuck Bebe Randolph so hard she'd forget she ever saw that skinny kid!
* * *
Happily unaware of the situation which was building around him, Fargo Gonzales lay over the back of the sleek raven-haired Chicano girl, his spent penis softening in the hot circle of her tightly throbbing rectum. One thing about Maria, he thought ... she could talk straight with a cock up her ass!
"I still say you should get her out to the neighborhood and gang-bang the shit out of her, and then I'll eat up her pussy and make her feel good," Maria argued.
"No fucking way!" the boy retorted. "I can make her any way I want on her own turf, but take her to the ghetto and she's gonna get so fucking uptight ... no, I got the pad now. I can get her there okay ... she wants a place to fuck. Just you line up the guys. We'll bang her senseless-but I take her away-shit, I rescue her, and she's all over me. Dig?"
"You got a fucking brain, Fargo," she admitted, wriggling out from under his weight and slowly opening her legs. Her slim fingers parted the soft, dark-hair fringed flanges of her cunt and she said, "Eat me a little-didn't cum."
"Shit," he muttered. "Well, I'll fix that!"
He took a mouthful of straight bourbon whiskey and burrowed down between her widespread young thighs, fastening his lips tight to her cuntal mouth. He squirted the burning liquor far up her fluid-heated cunt and listened to her scream as it seared her most sensitive flesh.
Slowly he began to let it ooze, drop by drop, onto his delving tongue.
It was damn good practice for Bebe Randolph.
They left the motel before 8 a.m. There was coastal fog and Fargo put up the convertible top. He gave only passing attention to various police and sheriff's cars. He was well within the speed limit, and moving with city-bound traffic. There was no reason to notice the big BMW bike which passed him from time to time, and was passed in turn, except to think it would be nice to have a cycle like that some day. Maria fished his cock out of his pants and tried to suck it, but he shoved her head out of his lap. He had to concentrate on his driving. And her mouth wasn't as sweet as her asshole.
They had stayed awake most of the night.
Bebe-and Maria still didn't know who Bebe was-was all set up.
Fargo Gonzales thought he had figured all the angles. He would use his Chicano buddies, and Maria. He would move Bebe into a position where, between her wild lust for his young virile body and the threat of losing everything she had, would make him incredibly rich overnight. Really hand him the key to a showbiz career of his own.
And, if he worked it right, she'd never know how she'd been used. All he had to do was fuck her, keep her happy, and let her think that whatever went wrong was just bad luck, Fargo liked Bebe Randolph. Nice girl with a nice, hot pussy and a lot of money and connections.
If he could just keep her on her knees, begging, it would be beautiful.
CHAPTER FIVE
Far from having a damaging effect on her as a performer, Bebe Randolph discovered her affair with Fargo was beneficial. With her body contented, she was more at ease, and she would have a new number down right in much less time than before. At first she had been afraid she'd give him away by the way she looked at the boy when others were around, but she found it possible to act normally, maybe because she had always been genuinely friendly and courteous with everyone.
The horse turned out to be a stroke of genius. The agency publicity department got wind of it and decided that the beast would make a nice counterpoint to Bebe's normal image, which, in the opinion of some, was too slick for a folk singer.
The hideout apartment was also perfect for the purpose. Thick shrubbery concealed comings and goings, and it was sound-proof. She and Fargo spent a lot of time in it during the ensuing weeks. From time to time he brought friends, including a stunning Chicano girl named Maria. Bebe sensed something with the girl but could not pin it down. She finally decided Maria had probably been Fargo's girl before she took him over and was resentful ... yet it didn't seem to be quite that.
Bebe had been nervous the first time Fargo announced they would have guests. She had argued against it, but he out-talked her, pointing out that they couldn't hide forever, and it would be wise to see if she could fool his friends by altering her appearance. They were of the same age group as the great mass of fans, and, if they didn't recognize her, then nobody would. Accordingly, Bebe bought a wig, a dark one styled differently than her own hair, and wore dark-tinted contact lenses over her violet eyes. Just those things and reshaping her generous mouth with heavy lipstick did the job perfectly.
After the first visit, Bebe was completely at ease, and would get a silent chuckle when the teenagers would get to talking about her latest record or TV spot. She discovered they were rough kids, because of the conditions in which they lived. But it was recognized that she was Fargo's property, and she wasn't molested. The only one who ever touched her was Maria, and that made Bebe a little uncomfortable-having even the suggestion of a caress from another female-but she put it down to the girl trying to be overly friendly because she'd been cold at first.
But a couple of things bothered her. Sometimes they brought beer and liquor and drank, although they didn't get noisy drunk.
And, on a few occasions, she had come in to sniff the acrid odor of marijuana in the apartment. At this, she protested vigorously, but again allowed Fargo to calm her.
"Bebe, everybody smokes," he said. "Take three deep breaths at the next taping, and you'll be high yourself. It's not a hard-time rap any more-maybe a fifty buck fine if anybody bothers to bust you."
"A fifty-buck fine for you," she snapped back. "For Bebe Randolph, singer, what is it? It's Bebe's ass! Headlines in the paper saying, FOLK SINGER STAGES TEENAGE POT PARTY! that's what it'll be!"
"Shit! There's never more than a couple of sticks. Nobody's holdin' or dealin' ... we can't get busted here because the narcs would have to come pounding up two flights of steps, and it's all down the crapper. We'll burn incense."
Bebe could not prevail against his thinking. She was afraid to press it for fear he'd walk out of her life, and that she'd rebound and be grabbed by some real heel. Fargo's lifestyle had changed for the better, but at least he wasn't stealing from her. He accounted for everything and-to her great surprise-insisted on paying for the expensive guitar out of his salary. He said he had bought it when he had the chance to get it cheap. The Caddy, clothes and spending money he accepted as gifts, and it was tacitly understood that, in time, he would inherit the truck, horse, trailer and tack. But the guitar seemed to be a point of honor with him. She knew she would never understand the Latin mind.
Several times he played the guitar and sang to her, and Bebe found herself wincing. He was no Jose Feliciano as a singer, and, as a guitarist, he had two left hands. She tried to be tactful, casually mentioning how tough it was to reach star status, and moving on to how much more money was to be made in the business end.
"You are a natural born manager," she told him once. "The way you handle all the little things for the combo ... the way you set up everything we have together-half an hour on the phone. Fargo, I want you to stick with the agency and take some business courses. Matt Matthers likes you, and, if I ask him to, he'll see you get ahead."
"Chica, you're right," the boy admitted. "I'm not talented, except maybe I'm so bad I'm good, like Jack Benny with his fiddle. I will think on what you say."
Actually she had not told the shrewd teenage body anything he had not known. But, making her say it had put her deeper in his debt. Just as insisting on paying for the guitar had been a master stroke laid upon her eager ass. It amounted to buying the hub-caps and then stealing the car to which they were attached.
Week by week, he drew the unsuspecting blonde singer deeper into his intricate web. He even brought her to the point where she would take a hit off a joint after he had fucked her silly, so she barely knew what she was doing. Now he had her accepting his selected friends without question.
The time for nailing Bebe Randolph permanently was coming.
* * *
Sergeant Dalt Edwards was also active in his quiet, thorough way. His Lieutenant's commission had finally come through, and, as he had promised, Ken Hanson, the officer who had set up the surveillance on Fargo and the blonde, had made his stripes. Needing a partner, Edwards had brought Hanson partly into the deal. He could trust Hanson-the bike cop was a cocksman of great determination.
Various segments of the intricate state crime-fighting organization were tapped. The Intelligence Unit of the LAPD bugged the apartment and its phone and also Bebe's home phone. Sporadically, Fargo and Bebe were trailed, either together or separately. Narcs nosed around. One, disguised as a phone repairman, got into the apartment and prowled it. He found one marijuana roach and nothing more-not enough to bother with. The apartment layout was thoroughly scouted and means of making a successful raid were discussed by experts.
In the end, the new Lieutenant Dalton Edwards and his sidekick told the experts to go to hell-they would get warrants and hit when they thought the time was ripe. To predictions that they would never get in undetected, Edwards would say only, "We'll get in."
* * *
A few days later, events moved forward abruptly. Bebe and Fargo had their first knock-down, drag out fight. It was on a weekend in spring, and the first bullfights of the season were scheduled in Tijuana. Fargo wanted to go. Bebe didn't. She thought they were cruel. But she told him to go, knowing it was a colorful spectacle in which the Mexicans took great pleasure, and, as long as she was going to have a Chicano lover, she would have to allow him certain things. She had gone to the house near Santa Barbara.
And on that Sunday evening, she discovered she'd left a videotape at the apartment, one which she had to have. And she drove there, arriving shortly after 9 p.m., expecting to find the place vacant.
It was not vacant. Fargo and perhaps a dozen friends, all youths, were there. They were smoking pot and drinking and so entranced with watching a pornographic movie that they didn't notice her arrival. Stunned and infuriated, Bebe took in the scene. And then a temper she didn't realize she had erupted.
She was wearing her Western Girl outfit, with high-heeled boots, and her first move was to scream in anger and kick the projector so hard it broke into three pieces. Then she hurled a can of film through the screen. Then she threw anything she could get her hands on at any target. She was stopped only when Fargo himself tackled her and threw her to the floor, but, even then, she was able to leave the red welts of her nails on his face.
"You son of a bitch!" she screamed. "Bullfights, is it? Was that a bull the girl in the movie was sucking? What's the matter? I'm not enough woman for you? You have to look at dirty pictures. Get off me! Get out! All of you!"
She punched him in the nose, making it bleed.
He hit her with the flat of his hand, then the back of his hand, again and again, until blood ran from her mouth.
"The corrida was rained out," he said, fury in his dark face. "When men are together, they will do things they would not do with their women around. If you ever raise your hand to me again, chica, I will kill you! Now, you get out!"
Terrified, Bebe realized he meant every word. Abjectly, her face stinging from his brutal slaps, she picked herself up and fled. Her world was ended. Somehow she made it back to Santa Barbara.
The next day, she went to retrieve whatever she might have left in the hideout apartment. There was little, as Fargo had been very efficient at seeing she left no clues to her identity around. She looked at the big foam-rubber bed on which they had given each other so much pleasure, then threw herself on it and wept until her entire body shook.
"He will be back. He is sorry. He had to do what he did."
Bebe rubbed her tear-swollen eyes, blinking, until she could recognize Maria Fuentes standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She wondered if Fargo had sent her to get his things. The Mexican girl was stunningly beautiful. Her full, pointed breasts, unfettered by a brassiere, showed clearly through a sheer, scoop-necked off-the-shoulder blouse. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in a mass of curls. She had on a leather micro-mini skirt and bikini panties which concealed none of the dark "vee" of her cunt. She wore calf-high boots of leather which matched the brief skirt. Her taut buttocks clenched as she crossed to the bed and bent over Bebe.
"You castrated him in his own house," Maria said. "A Spaniard-and all Mexicans think of themselves as Spaniards-can never allow a woman to do what you did. You are Anglo, so you would not understand. Fargo realizes this, and he is truly sorry. But he had to do what he did." She was carrying a shoulder bag and drew a packet from it. "He asked me to bring you these. The papers on the truck and the trailer and the horse. And his note to repay all you gave him, as soon as he can."
Bebe began to cry again. Brokenly, she said, "I don't want them ... I want Fargo!"
"Then you must work to get him back. He is proud," the Chicano girl said as she sat on the bed and leaned over to stroke Bebe's tear-stained face. "You should cry first. Cry it all out, and then you can think. I will stay with you."
Bebe felt herself being drawn into the beautiful young girl's arms as Maria slipped her boots off and lay on the bed. Bebe, her eyes streaming, burrowed her face into the soft, warm valley between the Chicano girl's upthrust young breasts, feeling their heat and firmness and the firm nipples. Her arms held Maria close and she let herself go for a long time as Maria's deft fingers stroked her, sliding lightly over the full curves of breasts and hips and buttocks. It did not seem unnatural, only very comforting, and, in time, the utter despair began to melt away in the embrace.
Bebe Randolph no longer felt alone.
She began to feel serene, even experienced fluttering sensual arousal at Maria's skilled touch as the girl's fingers danced slowly up the insides of her thighs, brushed over her pubic mound and began to make little circles on her belly.
"Why are you doing this for me?" Bebe whispered as she gradually regained control. "I-I thought you didn't like me. That maybe Fargo had been your man and I took him away. Do-do you know who I am?"
Maria laughed softly, sensuous lips opening to show fine white teeth as she said, "I knew the first minute I saw you, Bebe. A wig and some little changes here and there will fool a man but not another woman. And Fargo was not mine Fargo is not anybody's. I have never told anyone. Why should I hurt you?"
"You're ... you're nice, Maria," Bebe said.
"I'm a Chicano chick. Maybe I understand things, but I'm not nice." She laughed softly, without humor. "Bebe, we got to hang together against the studs, you dig? Fuck them around before they fuck us around." As if on impulse, she pulled Bebe close and kissed her full on the lips, her tongue sliding into Bebe's surprised mouth. At first Bebe tried to recoil, but it was the first gentle physical contact she'd had in days, and, through her warm moving lips, Maria seemed to be pouring out the universal troubles of being a woman. Bebe found herself responding, moving closer.
It seemed natural to hold the beautiful Mexican girl tight and let her legs fall open as Maria's warm, rounded knee slid up between her thighs and began to rub sensuously over the lips of her quickly-arousing cunt. Maria's full breasts were flattened against her own and their bodies began to undulate together. Bebe moaned as Maria broke the long kiss.
"You're wrung out," Maria said. "Why don't you take a long soak in the bathtub, and we can rap when you've got yourself together."
"Yes ... that sounds good," Bebe whispered. She could feel the sensual arousal slowly diminishing now in her body. It was something she'd never dreamed she could have-the desire to hold and kiss another woman, and she put it down to the terrible emotional stress she was under. "If you want anything to eat or drink...."
"No thanks," Maria said. "But Fargo kept me up all night with his moaning and groaning, and, if I could crash here for an hour or so...."
"As far as I'm concerned, you can have the whole damned apartment for the next six months," Bebe said. "The rent's paid, and somebody might as well use it."
She went into the bathroom and began running hot water. Maria Fuentes quickly shed her few clothes and lay naked on the bed. It was working perfectly, just as Fargo had predicted! And she, Maria, had a sweet piece of the action.
He and the stud would lay a ration of shit on little Bebe. And then Maria would appear as if my magic with comfort and arousing lovemaking-who the hell did Fargo think he was, saying he could eat this chick's pussy better than she could-and they'd bang the rich blonde goddess back and forth like a badminton bird until the feathers flew out of her tail!
Only, careful-don't ramshackle the silly goose as long as she's laying golden eggs-Maria cautioned herself.
Bebe Randolph found the hot bath soothing. She was so grateful to the beautiful young girl for coming by and being so understanding, willing to help her overcome her terrible mistake and get Fargo back. In time she stepped from the tub, dried herself in a fluffy towel and, with it wrapped around her, went back to the bedroom. The hot bath had made Bebe lethargic. She felt the urgent need for a catnap. In the doorway, she paused to gaze at Maria's gracefully poised body. The Chicano girl was truly beautiful. Bebe wished she had such breasts, such a slender waist and richly swelling hips and rounded buttocks. And her skin tone was so beautifully olive. Bebe had never liked her own skin. It was too pale, and, no matter which lotions she used, she never seemed to tan just right. She wondered if Maria would be interested in a job as a model. The agency had plenty who were dogs compared to her, and she would like to do something nice for Maria.
"Ola!" Maria murmured, rolling on her back. "Feeling better, Bebe?"
"Much," Bebe said. "But it almost put me to sleep. I could fall down right here."
"Then come to bed. We can rap and you can catch a nap."
That sounded logical. Bebe lay on the bed, snuggling into the other girl's open arms, feeling her soft naked warmth.
"You're beautiful ... really beautiful," Maria whispered, her soft lips against Bebe's ear, her , tongue flickering around it even as her fingers moved to cup and squeeze Bebe's right breast. "I'll love you to sleep, Bebe."
The blonde recording star wanted to protest, but the hot bath had sapped her energy and slowed her ability to think clearly. She found herself sighing and moving restlessly as the soft warm mouth closed over her rising nipple and began to suck as the tip of Maria's tongue lazily circled the aureole. Bebe trembled at the oral contact, and then twitched as she felt skilled fingers sliding up the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs to brush lightly over the still-damp curly hairs which fringed her cunt.
"Maria!" she gasped softly as the girl's hand closed over her vaginal mound and began a tantalizing circular movement. Against her will, her sensually awakening body began to respond to the expert manipulation, and she found her thighs relaxing, even as her pelvis began to undulate up and down in hunger. She looked down and saw the burning-hot tip of her breast being deliciously laved by the wet pink tip of Maria's tongue. A finger deftly slipped inside her swelling cunt lips, dipping into her juices and Bebe moaned, "I don't want to...."
"After what Fargo did to you, you need some love," Maria whispered. "Not a hard, hurting prick, but soft lips. When he told me how he hit you, I could have killed him!"
"Ooooohhh...." the bewitched young blonde groaned. She knew it was wrong, but was helpless. Maria's touch ... her soft fingers and even softer lips and tickling tongue were too much in her weakened emotional and physical condition. She managed to mumble a protest. "It's-lesbian-queer!"
"If it helps you through a tight spot, it's not," Maria whispered. "You're still wound up. Your pussy's on fire. If you leave here, go out on the street; the way your head is right now, it won't be half an hour before some bar stud had you in a motel and is fucking you crazy. He'll probably smack you around and rip you off! I'll take care of you, Bebe. Let off the pressure. Then you can go and tell them all to fuck off, and you may never see me again. But right now, I can be where it's all at for you."
"Oh my God...." the confused blonde mumbled. Somehow it made sense. She knew that, if she went out now, she'd be fair game for anybody. What Maria proposed to do for her was a little unnatural, maybe, but Bebe told herself it wasn't uncommon. In show biz she had many good friends who made no excuses for being bisexual, and they were the first to protest that they were not lesbians ... it was just that one woman could give another certain things a man was not capable of because men were built different in mind and body.
"Yes," she sighed. "Maria, love me."
Maria Fuentes smiled to herself and began to expertly lick and kiss her way down the trembling belly of the blonde singer. Fargo had promised this much for openers, the chance to eat Bebe's sweet little pussy. Well, she'd give such beautiful head that Bebe would never want Fargo's tongue in her pussy again! It's so damn nice to be with a pale blonde chica like this, instead of some wild, untamable stud. They rammed their pricks into your cunt and asshole and mouth like you're just a hunk of meat for them to use. And to be with a beautiful girl like this is so far out....
Bebe trembled uncontrollably as the Chicano girl shifted to kneel between her widespread legs. She felt Maria's hands cupping her quivering buttocks, spreading them open, and then the soft warmth of her breath over the wetly dilating lips of her pussy. She saw Maria's lovely face dip and felt the first magic contact of mouth and tongue on her cuntal flesh. And then the glistening pink tongue-tip was searching, fluttering along the flowering slit of her vagina, from side to side, dancing over her sensitively vibrating clitoris as Bebe lost control and began to fuck furiously up, her hands clasping the mass of gleaming black curls to pull Maria's head down tight into her already-steaming loins.
Maria had been right-she was better at eating pussy than Fargo!
The flickings of her tongue were more delicate, faster, seemingly aimed perfectly at whatever raw nerve-end needed attention most at any second. Maria's wetly heated mouth came down tight on her most sensitive flesh, sucking even as her tongue worked like a soft, liquid whip around the bud of her wildly aroused clitoris. And she felt an outstretched slender finger expertly sliding into her anus, rotating, but not hurting her as Fargo's had. Bebe groaned in mounting passion and let herself go, scissoring her long, slender legs around the burrowing face of the younger girl, as Maria kneaded and squeezed the smooth half-moons of her buttocks like foam rubber.
The sensations were too much! Before she realized what was happening, Bebe felt her vitals clenching and spasming, her belly muscles rippling as a thick outpouring of cum poured down the steaming depths of her cuntal canal to gush and glisten on the beautiful olive-hued cheeks of her girl-lover.
With the lovely blonde recording star writhing and fucking mindlessly up to her furiously lashing tongue and pouring her sweet orgasmic juices down her throat, Maria needed no encouragement. She forced Bebe's straining legs wider apart and up so they were pressing against her heaving breasts as she avidly devoured every drop of the precious fluid. The room was filled with the rich scent of their shamelessly aroused cunts and the wet sounds of licking and sucking and their loud moans of rapture. Maria herself became so involved that she collapsed a moment after the blonde singer weakly slumped back with her long legs lewdly splayed open and the golden "vee" of her vaginal furrow glistening with mingled saliva and cum. She pulled Maria up into the warm embrace of her arms, urgently kissing her, licking her face clean.
For a long time they lay in the sweet lesbianic embrace, panting in the afterglow of their passion, hands caressing each other, lips meeting wetly. Bebe's mind was in a turmoil. It had been so new, so shocking, so beautiful! As traumatic for her in a way as the first time Fargo had made her cum, the first time she had taken his long hard cock into her reluctant lips, the first time she had let him go down on her. There were just so many things, so fast, in recent weeks, and now she had a new desire which must be filled!
Deeply, lingeringly, she kissed Maria's soft hot mouth, seeking her tongue and sucking urgently on it before she whispered shyly, "I want to do it to you."
"No!" Maria shook her head firmly, "Not now! That was for you, to make you feel better. You eat my pussy and you get all hot and bothered again. Wait until your head is right. Then, if you still want...." she grinned lewdly and winked a dark passionate eye " ... we will go away. Not for an afternoon or a night, but a weekend or longer. But, if I let you do it now ... and I want it so very badly ... I would not be your friend. Understand?"
"Yes," Bebe conceded.
"If you have anything to drink, I will fix a couple and we can rap about how you get Fargo back."
"In the kitchen," Bebe mumbled. "Make mine weak."
She could barely taste the liquor. She saw Maria's drink was considerably darker, as she said, "Now, about Fargo...?"
"Fargo will come around-but you must apologize. You put him down in front of his friends."
"I'll call him right now," Bebe said, reaching for the phone. "I was just upset, after a long drive, and you know...."
"The phone will not do," Maria said. "If you want him, you must tell him to bring his friends again to a fiesta! You must show them that you are his woman, that you live only for him. Then they will respect him again, and he will love you. He will protect you. It is not necessary to say that you are sorry. Latinas are expected to be hot-tempered. It was not wrong for you to attack Fargo, but to do it in front of men was unforgivable. The men must see you are sorry. Because you are an Anglo, they will make allowances, as you wouldn't know."
It was confusing to Bebe, but she got the general idea. If she wanted Fargo, she had to subjugate herself. Well, if that's what had to be done, she would do it.
"Could you ... arrange it?" Bebe asked.
"I will find Fargo and speak to him in the morning."
"And tell him to get his ass back to work," Bebe replied, with a great wave of relief. "That bunch of pothead musicians can't even find the studio without him!" With mounting enthusiasm, she added, "And you give him another message ... Either he goes to school and takes the courses that will make a big executive out of him long after he's forgotten me, or he can get his ass out of the milk shed! He's got the head for a lot more than the few trinkets and toys I've given him. You tell him I don't want anything except for him to get smarted up. Not, like he would say, fucked up! Dig?"
"I dig, Bebe. You are something else. I'll fix."
Maria dressed and left. Bebe decided to stay where she was. She had to deal with Matt Matthers in the morning, and there was no point to driving back to Santa Barbara.
She was only mildly surprised to see Fargo back on the job, efficient as ever in the morning, and relief flooded through her when he said quietly, "Maria found me ... it's cool. Sorry I hit you."
"I had it coming," she replied. "I didn't understand."
"Okay. Party weekend. I'll bring what we'll need," he said. "It could go on a couple of days."
"If it goes on a couple of days, you find us a handy motel, because we're going to need it," Bebe said impishly, buoyant at the thought of being with her teenage lover again. "I have all kinds of things planned for us to do."
"We've done almost everything," he said, grinning.
"You can think of something new," she said with a lewd grin. "Half the fun of being in love is making up."
"Right on, Bebe."
Yeah, how right you are, he thought as he watched the smooth seductive swing of her buttocks under a mini that barely covered her twitching ass-cheeks. You want something new? Just wait until I ram my cock up your ass! Bebe, once I get this rod in your ring, there's no way you'll ever turn me loose. And, if you try, I'll just send Maria to herd you back!
He took time out to arrange with a friend in Tijuana for a shipment of Spanish fly, and then, whistling, went about his work.
CHAPTER SIX
After some two months, the carefully-planted bugging devices in the secluded apartment were finally producing something of interest. Lieutenant Dalt Edwards had been on the point of saying to hell with the whole thing and just taking his chances on paying a call to Bebe Randolph at her home. After all, she'd almost opened her legs that time on the road and given him an invitation. He thought he was too much cop-almost as much cop as pussy-hound. Seeing her get mixed up with a fifteen year old kid had set alarm bells ringing.
It just didn't figure, a hot number like her going down on a Chicano teenager. There had to be more than cock involved, somehow! The narc reported no sign of dope, other than the usual pot, which was expected and ordinarily tolerated, unless someone filed a complaint. Each of the kid's close contacts had been checked, flagged on the road, searched, and not even reds or yellowjackets had turned up, to say nothing of acid or the real hard shit. Whatever this boy Fargo Gonzales had going for him, it wasn't dope ... yet there had to be SOMETHING! Porno films, maybe. It was possible he got the blonde smashed out of her mind a couple of times and had her make it with that damn horse. He snorted in amusement. No, she wasn't that kind!
Anyway, she needed rescuing, and he was ready to mount his white BMW charger.
The newly-created lieutenant thought of all possibilities. There was no point to busting a few kids, but, if somehow hanging tight to them led him to something worthwhile, well, there was a command-level spot opening in the Attorney General's office that paid twice as much as packing Highway Patrol iron. There were some damn good jobs opening in Washington, now that the FBI was in new hands.
And there was always Bebe Randolph herself. Beautiful, on the way up, loaded with bread already. And he could not only fuck her pretty ass off, he could play the banjo and sing On Top of Old Smokey.
Ken Hanson was the only backup he'd need. If he made a bust, he was sure he could punch down any ten East L.A. punks. They were built of pure chickenshit. Take their switchblades away and they ran like kittens.
Lieutenant Dalt Edwards smelled a setup. The bugs had worked well, and he knew that somehow Bebe Randolph had been led into a lesbian scene and persuaded to hold a party.
So, the thing to do was bust the party.
Easier thought of than done. He had looked over the ground and knew that anyone approaching the apartment, three floors up from the ground, would be concealed from the street, yet easily observed from the pad itself. There was only one way in, then-over the roof. Preparing, he and Sgt. Hanson had taken some training with the Los Angeles Fire Department.
All the other law enforcement agencies had called it quits. Edwards was running this on his own. Even Hanson showed signs of defecting, but hung in tight because he was afraid of losing his new stripes.
"A hell of a bodacious amount of work for just one piece of ass," he complained. "You bang Bebe-I get sloppy seconds."
"Fuck the Mex chick, then," the lieutenant said. "Or we can both fuck Bebe. But I get to keep her."
"You should live so fucking long."
"The party's tomorrow night. Get the damn equipment ready."
* * *
"I don't like the looks of this," Bebe said nervously when she finally met Fargo at the apartment. He was surrounded by a half-dozen of his teenage buddies, and she could tell they'd been drinking, probably all the way from East L.A., and they were half-stoned on grass. "These are animals! If you want to impress them by putting me down-I don't think I want you that much."
"Maria said you'd go, and you're fuckin' well gonna go," the boy said, grabbing her wrist and twisting it until Bebe winced. "Sure, they're du m-dum, but they spread the word, and I'm a tall dog on my own turf. Don't sweat, Bebe doll. Nothing's gonna happen you don't want. Either we fix it my way now, or I walk out the fucking door!"
"Is-is Maria here?" Bebe mumbled, confused.
"She'll be along," he said. "And get out of those damn jeans and into your shortest dress. I want them to see what I got."
Almost in tears, the shapely blonde singer complied. In the bedroom she shed her slacks and thin sweater and slipped a revealingly short off-white sheath over her head and saw with dismay that the bikini panties she wore were not nearly opaque enough. The deep fleshy furrow of her cunt could clearly be seen, and a fringe of blonde pubic hair showed along the elastic edges at her "vee." To say nothing of the way the flimsy material worked into the crack of her buttocks after she took a few steps, leaving her smoothly rounded ass-cheeks virtually bare.
A horrifying thought came to her confused mind. If Fargo felt he had to humiliate and subjugate her to prove to his friends how much she was in his power-could he possibly intend to fuck her with them present?
No, he'd never think of such a thing, she was sure.
Her mind was diverted by the arrival of Maria, who was wearing an equally brief outfit, but all of shiny black leather, with thigh-high boots to match. She looked exotic in a somewhat gaudy way, almost like some of the women pictured in the offbeat men's magazines that focused on whips and spurs. She immediately put her arms around Bebe, and the touch of her soft mouth and darting tongue quickly brought back the time they had spent together. The blonde recording star was overwhelmingly glad to have another woman at hand, and Maria assured her she looked perfect.
A drink was pressed into her hand as soon as she and Maria returned to the party. Bebe felt she needed something to ease her nerves and she quickly drained the glass, only to find another quickly handed to her. The liquor tasted strange, but, as she hardly ever drank, the flavor meant nothing to her, and it was both soothing and refreshing. Just the two glasses eased her nervousness, almost made her giddy, and she impulsively embraced Fargo as soon as she had the chance, kissing him hotly and pressing her nearly-naked body against his tightly.
"Forgive me, darling?" she mumbled against his mouth.
The boy's arms went around her and his strong fingers dug into the tight crease of her buttocks, kneading them as he returned her kiss.
Bebe knew they must make a lewd, obscene spectacle in front of the other youths, but she didn't care, not even when he moved one hand up to pull open the top of her dress and cup one naked breast. She could only moan and writhe lewdly against him, realizing how much she had wanted him.
"Take me in the bedroom," she whispered, pleading.
"Later, Bebe." His fingers slid over the rich curves of her body, down to her vaginal "vee" and explored under the thin panties, slipping into the tight hair-lined furrow of her cunt, arousing her clitoris, making her groan with an urgent need. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her, wanting him to take her, immediately, so wildly. And right now she didn't care if others saw it happening.
"That stuff's really hitting her," Maria said to Fargo. "Remember, I get her first. The first one of these punks that tries to fuck me up gets a blade up his ass."
"Cool it," the handsome teenager said curtly. "One more belt of Spanish fly, and she'll be raping you."
His words were close to the truth. Bebe continued to drink, and an uncontrollable itch grew up between her legs. It felt as though her wildly pulsating cunt were on fire. She made it to the bathroom and dashed cold water on her face, but that didn't help. On her way out, she collided with Maria. Bebe stumbled and would have fallen if the younger girl hadn't caught her.
"Hey? You look sort of stoned," Maria said. "You okay?"
"A little woozy," Bebe admitted.
"Then come on, lie down for a minute. The guys are talking stud talk and won't miss us."
Bebe allowed herself to be led, and Maria's suggestion that she take her dress off so it wouldn't get wrinkled seemed sensible. Maria assured her the door was locked, and then helped her get naked. Bebe lay gratefully on the big bed. Her wig seemed uncomfortably tight, so she took it off too, and her long pale hair splashed across the pillows. She was barely surprised to see Maria stripping too. The pure olive-hued beauty of the Chicano girl's body captivated her. The legs were so long and slender, ass-cheeks so smooth and perfectly-rounded, flowing into generous hips and then pinching in to a wasp-waist. And her breasts stood out like miniature coral-tipped mountains. They jiggled as Maria gracefully slid beside her in the bed.
Without hesitation, Bebe rolled into the inviting arms and opened her eager mouth for Maria's teasing tongue. The younger girl's fingers quickly moved to the singer's wetly heated vagina, parting the sensitive outer lips and dancing over the hardening bud of Bebe's clitoris.
"Ummmmmm...." the blonde moaned and didn't resist as the girl took her hand and guided it between the long dark legs and up to the black curling hair of her cuntal "vee." Bebe began to stroke the warm, moist flanges of the other girl's pussy as if she had done this a thousand times before. She slithered down until she could capture one of Maria's rounded little breasts between her lips and suck on the protruding nipple as she and the dark-haired beauty lewdly caressed each other. "So soft and smooth ... and beautiful."
Maria's hands held her close, stroking her tangled mass of blonde hair, and Bebe found herself lost in a reverie, experiencing sensations she had admitted to never knowing before, lying in the arms of another woman. As from a great distance, she heard Maria whispering.
"Remember when you wanted to go down on me?"
"Ummmmm...." Bebe moaned, still sucking the soft warmth other breast.
"You know they're going to fuck us ... all of them," Maria murmured. "We could have each other first."
The words shocked Bebe. She wanted to get up and run, but just the word "fuck" set off a new surge of excited heat in her loins, and she knew she couldn't flee because she wanted to be fucked by them all, but, at the same time, she wanted Maria first. "How can we do it to each other?" she mumbled.
Moving with the agility of an eel, the Mexican girl quickly showed her. Bebe found herself lying on her side, face-to-loins with the young female. She could see the pink flanges of Maria's cunt through the dark curling hairs, and her nostrils flared at the rich woman-scent.
"Start kissing and licking, baby," Maria whispered, at the same time parting Bebe's trembling thighs and burying her beautiful Latin face between them. Bebe hesitated only until she felt the tongue slithering into her heatedly quivering pussy, and then, with a sigh of surrender and desire, brought her own hungry mouth down eagerly on Maria's cunt as the latter's legs spread wide to her.
From that point, everything became natural, and Bebe needed no guidance or encouragement. Her fingers spread the pulsing wet slit of flesh wide and the searching tip of her tongue eagerly delved into the glistening depths of the Mexican teenager's wetly throbbing vagina. The taste electrified Bebe and she eagerly licked and sucked, even as she felt the same being done to herself. Maria's pussy mound began to thrust down hard against her slurping mouth and Bebe's searching tongue soon discovered the nib of the other woman's clitoris. She licked it and then drew it between her avid lips, sucking hard, hearing Maria's gasps of pleasure. The dark-haired girl's slender thighs tightened around her burrowing face, and Bebe pulled them open to gain greater access to the wet fragrant target.
The fury of their carnal passions overcame them, and the lewdly entwined women began to roll and thrash on the bed, and the room was filled with the aromatic aromas of their aroused pussies and the wet sounds of their hungrily-working mouths.
Everything except the sweet cunt she was devouring so greedily became an abstraction for the blonde recording star. She felt Maria's tongue drilling into her own pussy, easing the terrible fire which raged there, as she urgently fucked her pussy up to the other girl's beautiful young face.
It seemed only a few minutes before the tide of wanton lust overwhelmed them both. Even as Bebe felt her loins quake and begin to gush hot, sweet cum into Maria's hotly sucking lips, the other girl climaxed, and her delicious secretions poured from the depths of her heaving pussy into Bebe's gluttonous mouth. In a moment of abstraction. Bebe realized then that a woman didn't cum the way a man did, in hot gushing spurts, but in a steady sweet flow of warm honey. It was something she'd never thought of before, as she eagerly licked at the silver river of nectar that streamed from the dark-haired girl's cunt and felt Maria's more experienced but no more eager tongue doing the same to her.
Exhausted and satiated, the two girls lay nakedly together while the fiery passion subsided. Bebe's head was whirling and she didn't realize they had been discovered until she heard a voice say, "Well, ain't they sweet together!"
Dazedly, she raised her cum-smeared face and focused her glazed eyes on Fargo in the doorway. All of his teenage friends crowded behind him for a better look, their hot eyes glowing in excitement.
"Shit! That's Bebe Randolph!" one exclaimed. "Fargo's been fucking Bebe Randolph!"
"What's good enough for Fargo Gonzales is good enough for us, hey?" another said, and they surged into the room, grabbing for both suddenly terrified girls. Another said, "I'm gonna see if that mouth sucks a prick as good as it sings!"
"Oh shit, oh damn!" Maria swore softly. She knew with one glassy-eyed look that they were stoned and drunk, and this was one helluva lot more than she'd bargained for. She'd wanted to put Bebe down, help Fargo get her set up-but not this. She'd been gang-banged by this bunch before, and it was a bad scene. She could take it, but she was afraid it would kill Bebe.
But the Gonzales boy was quicker and not as drunk as the others. He got between them and the girls, and suddenly he had a gun in his hand.
"Which one of you motherfuckers wants to get burned first?" he said coolly.
That stopped them. It was rumored that Fargo had used a gun before. As they muttered threats, he said, "We'll fuck both of them that's what we're here for. No sense to fucking beat-up cunt. Dig?"
His buddies were not about to argue with a gun, and what Fargo said made sense to them. Both girls were scared shitless. They could be fucked all night, over and over, all kinds of ways. They muttered agreement, and Fargo put the gun away. He went to the bed and looked down at the cowering Bebe.
"Hang loose, honey. You'll dig it. And then you'll really be one of us. Just do what I say, huh?"
"Yes, Fargo," Bebe said abjectly.
"That's better. Now turn on your belly and get up on your knees and elbows. I'm gonna fuck you in the asshole!"
"Oh my God!" the startled honey-haired singer cried out. It was unthinkable! How had she ever let herself be drawn into such a vile situation? Dear God, wasn't there a way to escape? Looking at their lust-contorted faces, she knew it was hopeless. She could only submit, but pleaded weakly with Fargo, "Not there! Please!"
"Listen, these guys wanta see you get it up the ass. If I do it, you know I'll slip it to you easy. Ask Maria. I get it into her asshole so smooth she hardly feels it, and then she can't get enough. Now if I let somebody like Bervo that's the big guy with the dumb face do it to you, he'll split your asshole wide open. He's hung like a mule. Right, Berv?"
"You betcha fuckin' ass," Bervo said, and to prove it opened his fly and drew out the most enormous penis Bebe had ever imagined. Even Maria gasped at the size of it, and the massive balls which hung heavy with semen at its base. "You loosen her asshole up, and I'll get it in."
"Better do like I tell you," Fargo said as he quickly stripped and stood naked over the cowering recording artist. His virile young cock that she had loved so much stood hard and thick, throbbing inches from her glazed eyes. She wanted his beautiful penis, despite the awful humiliation of the circumstances; but in her cunt, not her virginal anus! Yet she could tell that was how it would be. Tears welled from her eyes as, like a robot, she knelt subserviently on the bed as directed and spread her knees wide.
"Wider-and get your pretty ass up higher," Fargo said curtly as he climbed up behind her submissively kneeling figure, his strong young thighs prying between her own until she thought the tendons would tear loose. His deft hands stroked her fearfully trembling body and reached under her heaving torso to cup and squeeze the soft mounds of her breasts. She steeled herself for the first cruel contact with the blood-swollen head of his thick penis against her tiny rectal opening.
But it wasn't his cock that she felt first, but the slithering wetness of his tongue lancing moist fire down the center of her spine, and against her will the blonde recording star gasped with sudden arousal. His hot mouth teasingly moved lower, then lost contact for a minute, only to glue itself tightly to the distended lips of her aroused cunt. "Ooooohhh!!" she moaned in unwilling pleasure as his tongue darted up and down the sensitive fleshy slit and then speared deep into the heated depths of her cuntal channel, probing expertly. She gasped and screwed her loins back hard to his handsome young face and began to rock on hands and knees, already being brought to an orgasm. Her pussy had never felt so hotly aroused before, and now she realized there must have been something in the drinks. Well, whatever it was, if it could make her feel like this, she wanted more of it.
"Fargo!" Bebe pleaded. "Somebody get me another drink. I'm on fire!"
Somebody brought one, in a tall glass, frigid with ice. Even as her wildly throbbing pussy was being licked, the kneeling blonde woman drank it down eagerly.
From that point on, she didn't care what happened. All she wanted was long hard cocks any way she could get them. And there was no doubt her desires would be fulfilled, because now all the other teenagers were stripped naked, waving and stroking their throbbing staffs. She saw one, a thin boy of about sixteen, beckon to Maria Without any sign of emotion, the beautiful Mexican girl knelt in front of him and began licking and sucking, her cheeks hollowing ans swelling as she worked on his adolescent loins.
Suddenly Fargo's tongue slid from her cunt and was rimming the tight rubbery rose of her anus again. Bebe sighed and tried to spread her splayed ass-cheeks even wider as the tip of his tongue penetrated the forbidden depths of her rectal passage. She was caught up in the lewd obscenity of the moment-they could do anything they wanted with her, just as long as they did something-FAST!
"Fuck me! Fuck me there, Fargo!" she pleaded.
"You betcha sweet ass! Screw back when you feel it!"
Then the soft-cushioned head of his iron-hard penis was pressing warmly against the wet puckering ring of her tiny anus, and Bebe gasped when she realized how big his cock really was! It could never fit into her there. She tried to squirm away, but his strong young hands grabbed her hips and held her helpless as he pressed relentlessly forward, painfully stretching her resistant anal muscle.
"Aaauuugghhh ... oohhhh...." the blonde singer groaned.
"Relax, damn it, so I can get it in!" he grunted, and the flat of his hand cracked painfully across the straining flesh of her nakedly upraised buttocks. Bebe cried out in shock, but the slap accomplished its purpose. For a second her tightly clenched buttocks muscles relaxed, and suddenly his mushroom-shaped cock-head stretched her wide and popped inside the puckering anal ring, firmly wedged in place up inside her tight rectal opening.
"Oh, damn," she groaned, sure his virile young penis was going to kill her. The beautiful blonde vocalist hung her head docilely and waited for the full impalement, but it didn't come immediately, or even begin for several more moments. Fargo remained immobile, crouched above her with just the tip of his long thick cock in her straining rectum. Bebe found her body adjusting to the unnatural presence and her anal ring slowly opening in hunger. It was she who made the first move to get more f his wonderfully hardened penis, slowly rocking back and forth, beginning to swing her milk-white hips from side to side. She felt his virile rod of flesh gradually sinking into her cringing anal passage, hurting but in some strange masochistic way also feeling good, and she heard herself whisper, "Deeper, Fargo. Fuck deeper in me!"
His strong young back corded as he began to thrust up into her hot rectal depths, with a steady rhythm. The movement, the inexorable drilling up into her tightly puckered anus started the pain again, enough to bring tears to Bebe's eyes, but the sensation was so wild, so overwhelming that she could stand the pain. Gritting her teeth, the kneeling blonde singer began to lewdly rotate her naked buttocks, feeling his hot pulsating hardness going deeper and deeper into her widely-stretched anus with each circular motion. It felt as though a baseball bat were being hammered into her-and the teenager was being so damn slow about it he was driving her crazy!
"For God's sake," she cried out in frustration. "Fuck me! Fuck my ass, Fargo!"
And when he complied, she screamed, and her cry was one of exaltation and agony. With one vicious lunge he rammed to his full depth into her distended anus, so hard he toppled the blonde recording star forward onto her face and her nakedly full breasts were flattened on the mattress ... now the sensation had changed no longer a baseball bat, now it felt like a red-hot bar of steel had been jammed up into her rectum.
"Eeeeyyyaaazzhhh!!!" she screamed again, her golden hair tossing as her head flailed from side to side and she tried to escape the punishing shaft of virile flesh. But the teenager's weight came down hard and heavy, pinning her, and she could only lie still, sobbing until her painfully stretched rectum again began to adjust to the brutal invasion.
"Up and we'll fuck, Bebe," he said into her ear, while his hands were pulling her up to her knees and elbows again. "Just fuck up to me like it was your cunt."
Completely subjugated, the blonde-tressed beauty tried to obey. In a mirror she caught a glimpse of the slender Chicano youth poised behind her, the long thick shaft of his manhood buried almost to the hilt in her defenseless anal opening. Experimentally she swayed and rocked, and was surprised that it felt so good to have him moving in her rectum. She began to churn her taut young buttocks, back against him as he slowly fucked in and out of her lewdly-stretched anus. With each thrusting lunge, she grunted, feeling diminishing pain, and finally, the first sweet surges of pleasure. His hot throbbing penis was sliding in and out of her taut anal passage like a well-greased wagon shaft now, his sperm-heavy balls smacking wetly and flattening against her splayed ass-cheeks with every stroke, and it seemed his lust-swollen cock-tip was ramming almost up to her throat from behind. Abruptly there was no more pain, only wild, sensual pleasure, much of which came from the lewd spectacle she knew she presented to the obscenely watching boys and Maria.
If only my millions of fans could see me right now! Bebe thought momentarily in wry amusement as she ground her naked hips urgently back toward her fifteen year old lover's loins, trying to draw Fargo's virile young penis even deeper into her tightly-clutching anus. The blonde singing star realized she was an eager participant in what she had always thought was the vilest, most obscene of all possible acts, and she abruptly amended her former conservative point of view, adding, It is until you try it!
Like straight fucking, she supposed, the first time must be the hardest. After that you're not up tight. As if to confirm this guess, she saw Maria kneel on the far end of the bed and reach back to pull her perfectly molded ass-cheeks wide apart while the monster boy Bervo got behind her and, with one smooth stroke, slid his huge penis fully into her puckering little anus without any preliminaries such as licking it or sucking her pussy. And Maria didn't even blink, just began to fuck wildly back on the massively pummeling rod of flesh. Well, what Maria could do, I can do just as well, if not better, Bebe vowed, and wantonly began to churn her fleshy ass-cheeks and hump back at the long invading penis ramming up into her anal channel, glorying in the reaming she was absorbing.
"Damn! You're gonna kill me with that tight-little asshole," Fargo cried out.
"You wanted my ass!" she screamed in lewdly mounting passion as the Spnaish Fly and her own heated desires broke through her last barriers of respectability. "Now fuck it, or get out of the way for someone who will!"
"Up yours, Bebe baby," he retorted and wildly rammed the full length of his throbbing cock into her steaming rectal depths, buffeting her without mercy.
"I-I'm cuuuummming!" she began to whimper, then cry and scream as the great torrent of thick juices flowed from her flexing cunt-lips to coat her thighs and his smacking testicles. "Oh, Fargo! Hammer it to me! Fill my ass with your hot prick! Cum, darling! I want to feel you cumming in meeee!!"
Savagely he drilled his long rampant hardness into her convulsively puckering anal opening. She felt his thick pulsing penis swelling until it seemed like the huge rubbery knob at the end of his pillaging staff would burst. And then the hot squirting of his cum began to fill her yearning rectum, coating its already-slick walls and the thickness of his jackhammering rod of flesh. His fingers bit cruelly into the soft flesh of her wantonly-waving buttocks as thick streams of his semen squirted out around the base of his deeply-planted penis and streamed down her sweating legs to puddle obscenely on the sheets.
Completely spent, Bebe collapsed, belly down and panting, as Fargo slowly pulled out of her trembling ass-cheeks, his softening cock making a wet squishing sound and bringing with it long strings of thickening white cum which trailed across her spasmodically-clenching buttocks. Another of the boys wanted to take her immediately, but Fargo stopped him, saying she had to have some rest and another drink.
She was grateful for the respite, although now thoroughly aroused, she wanted as much cock as she could get. Somebody brought her a drink and a lighted cigarette, and only after she puffed deeply did she realize it was marijuana. Hell, she thought, what's a little pot after all this? She took a deep hit as she had been taught to do and let the strong smoke fill her lungs and start her floating. They waited for the spiked drink and pot to take effect, and then another of the boys told her to get on her knees again.
"Cool it," Fargo said, his voice hard. "Her asshole belongs to me. Fuck her straight or she can suck you."
Although Fargo was younger and smaller than most of the others, he was without doubt the leader. He obviously carried the same qualities Bebe had noticed in his work down to the ghetto level.
"Fuck my cunt," she begged, turning on her back and opening her legs in wide, lewd invitation. "My cunt is burning."
A boy whose name she didn't even know immediately mounted her and thrust his hips forward, driving his eagerly pulsating cock up into her belly with one smooth stroke to fill her yearning cuntal cavity. Sighing in pleasure, she tightly wrapped arms and legs around him and began to fuck with all her nearly-insane strength. As she felt his rod of hard flesh pistoning in and out of her ecstatically quivering pussy, she wondered, Just what the hell is in those drinks? Whatever it was didn't matter now. It worked! It worked beautifully!
And everything was beautiful until the shrill blast of a police whistle seemed to shatter walls and windows.
Like a scene in a movie theater when something goes wrong with the projector and all action stops with the actors in strange positions, everyone froze. Nothing moved except cocks instantly going soft.
Lieutenant Dalt Edwards and Sergeant Ken Hanson were dressed entirely in black. Tight-fitting jeans, rubber-soled shoes, turtleneck sweaters, bush jackets and jaunty black berets. They had ugly black guns in their fists too. They had come up ropes and over rooftops.
"Up against the wall, motherfuckers," Edwards said with a gesture of his stubby .357 Magnum Smith and Wesson. "Climb and spread 'em!"
"Where the hell would any of them hide a piece, Dalt?" his partner asked, grinning, his eyes moving to take in the two naked and obviously fucked-out women.
"Who are you cock-suckers?" Fargo said defiantly.
"We're Polack cat burglars, boy," the lieutenant said. "We just went into business tonight, and already we swiped two hundred cats. Now we've come for your pussy. MOVE!"
The boys -lined up, spread-eagled and trembling against the wall. As the sergeant covered him, Dalt Edwards shook the room down. He found Fargo's gun and slipped it into a pocket. He found a half lid of prime grass and confiscated that.
"You want to call anybody?" his partner asked.
"No point," the lieutenant said. "We'll handle this ourselves. Herd these bastards out in the living room where we can work."
The now-terrified teenagers meekly moved ahead of the gun into the living room. Their nakedness, in contrast to the sinister black garb of the intruders, stole from what little courage they had.
Bebe and Maria were made to come also. The boys were -lined up along the front wall, and the women told to sit on the sofa. The sergeant put his gun away and the lieutenant handed him his own revolver. He studied his captives through the smoked glasses effected by bike cops, picking Fargo out.
"You," he said, his voice cutting like a chain saw. "You smartass punk! You think you can fuck around with a girl who means millions of dollars to big people? You dumb shit! I've got an open contract on you. But I won't kill you. I'll just make you wish I would. Then when you get out of the hospital, you can tell your buddies how groovy it is to fuck up a million-dollar talent-until you get caught."
Without another word the big, rangy cop picked Fargo up with one hand by the hair of his head. He held him a full foot off the floor and began to work him over with his gloved left hand, slapping and digging with stiffened fingers, not using a clenched fist. He was an expert. There would be no permanent marks, but it would be weeks before Fargo Gonzales would walk upright or go more than hour without having to urinate in great pain. The lieutenant's strong arm might have been the boom of a crane as for more than five minutes he held the screaming, pleading boy in the air and his left hand blurred with the swift violence of his punishment. When he dropped him, Fargo curled into a ball and cried like a baby.
Bebe had screamed in protest at first, and then subsided, knowing she could do nothing.
Maria Fuentes showed no emotion, and felt none. Fargo had gotten too big for his boots, and now he was paying. She knew the violence of the ghetto. The big guy was hardly giving him a spanking by those standards. He was lucky they didn't break his neck and stuff him down the nearest manhole cover.
Lieutenant Dalt Edwards was by no means finished. He had merely warmed up had flexed his iron-hard muscles. He looked at the remaining half-dozen cowering boys.
"The odds are about right," he said in a soft voice. "I am going to beat the living shit out of all of you at once. Anything goes. Get with it!"
He hit the first boy in line, Bervo, before the hulking teenager could get his hands up. His fist went straight to the overlarge nose, flattening it, making blood spurt. As Bervo cried out in pain and covered his face, the lieutenant kicked him in the balls. As the boy doubled over, a rabbit punch to the back of the neck dropped him like a stone. The whole thing took less than three ticks of a clock.
From that point on, it was a case of trying to catch them before they could run naked from the room. They piled up in the doorway and the black-clad lieutenant was all over the squirming, screaming tangle of teenagers, and it was over almost before it really got started. Had they rallied and faced him, they could have overcome him by sheer weight of numbers, but they were totally disorganized and he was an avenging, wrathful angel. Only a few pieces of furniture got broken, and there was surprisingly little blood.
"You, chica," he said to Maria. "Collect whatever clothes these pachucos had and see they get into them and to hell out of here." He pointed at Bebe. "You get your ass in the bedroom and wait."
Completely cowed, the two women did as they were told. In a few minutes the boys, one helping another, were dressed and limping and crawling away, thoroughly convinced they had gotten into something far above their heads.
Bebe and Maria did not think to cover their own nakedness. They were still too shocked by the sudden turn of events, and neither could account for the sudden appearance of the two black-clad men. Bebe knew the agency would use drastic measures when it had to, but her dilliance with Fargo certainly wasn't worth this!
"Who are you?" she whispered as the two brawny men came into the bedroom. "Did Matt Matthers send you?"
"I sent me," Lieutenant Dalt Edwards said as he produced his identification and badge. "This is a private raid. I don't think any of those punks is going to beef. You were headed for hell in a hand basket, Bebe, and your ass is too pretty for what was ahead of you. You could beef me for this but I doubt you will. The D.A. would have to bust you too."
"I know you now!" she said in awe. "You're the bike cop. You took my Citroen for a spin!"
"And you chased me on my own CHP bike," the youthful cop said with a grin. "I've got a BMW you might get jollies from."
"I know I should thank you," Bebe murmured. "But did you have to be so-so brutal?"
"The only language they understand," the big, rangy cop said. "If you don't believe, ask the senorita."
"It's true, Bebe," Maria said. "You went to the zoo and played with the young tigers. Matt Dillon here came along before they chewed your throat out." She glanced at Sgt. Hanson, lifted an eyebrow interestedly, and added, "I guess this must be Festus, Marshall Dillon."
"Ken Hanson," the other said, grinning.
"Well, score one for the guys in the white hats," Bebe said, quickly regaining her poise. "What now?"
"We're no different than any other guys," Dalt Edwards said. "We like to fuck."
Well, Bebe told herself, there's always a price to pay. They were handsome and virile young men. And she still had the terrible burning need in her pussy from the spiked drinks. She knew that if she went out of the apartment now it would be to the nearest bar or drive-in where she would wantonly offer herself to the first thing that looked like it had a cock, regardless of what it entailed.
"I need to be fucked," she admitted. "I feel messy-you know? Let me clean up."
"Me, too," Maria said.
They went into the bathroom, quickly filled the tub and got into it together, soaping and washing each other. At the mere touch of the other girl's hands, Bebe became overwhelmingly aroused.
"Damn, you do need cock," Maria said as she teased the long out-thrusting nipples of Bebe's heaving breasts. "The Spanish Fly really hit you."
"Something did," Bebe moaned, wanting to be fondled.
"We've got to bring you down," Maria said with authority born of experience. "The three of us at once."
"Three of you!" Bebe gasped. She had never heard of such a thing. "How can you ever ... how can I ever...."
"I'll show you," Maria promised, kissing her full on the mouth.
Back in the bedroom, Maria held a quick, whispered conversation with the two now-naked cops. The lieutenant blinked at the proposal, but finally agreed that only an overwhelming experience would quench Bebe's internal fires. As though mesmerized, not sure just what was going to happen to her, Bebe allowed herself to be led to the bed. She looked hungrily at the lust-ready penises of the lieutenant and his sidekick, wanting them, needing them any way. She'd suck or fuck or spread her ass cheeks ... Anything!
But it was Maria who took her first. Maria who drew her down to the bed and began kissing her and kneading her sensitive flesh, squeezing the firm roundness of her breasts and then her buttocks as her mouth closed on the aroused nipples. And then as the voluptuous blonde moaned in mounting desire and with the promise of ecstasy, Maria was moving lower, her hot, lashing tongue spearing into the dilating lips of Bebe's hotly pulsing cunt. Just the darting touch of it blurred the image of the two lewdly-grinning cops who were awaiting their cue. Bebe began to thrust her pussy forward in a lewd eagerness, rolling on the bed.
Then strong hands were turning her on her side, and Maria was shifting to keep oral contact with her flaming genitals. She was aware of Dalt Edwards sliding into the bed, pressing his long, muscular body tight to her back. And then the hot pulsing tip of his cock was pressing between her quivering ass-cheeks as Maria's skilled fingers spread them wide.
Bebe barely groaned as she felt the huge bulbous head shoving hard and then popping through the tightly-clenched ring of her anus. What she had guessed was right-the first time was the roughest! Now she wanted all his long cock up her rectal passage, and she humped back, trying to pull it deeper into her straining body.
"Aaaaaauuuuuggggghhhhhh!!!" she moaned as the thick shaft slid upward, pushing waves of tender, resilient flesh before it. "It's so biiiiigggg!!!"
He began to stroke into her, a fraction of an inch farther each time. It felt like somebody was shoving one of the giant Sequoia redwoods into her rectum, but Bebe wanted all of it, wanted to feel his heavy balls nestled in the crease of her ass-cheeks, have his thick virile shaft pounding in and out of her cruelly-stretched anus.
And then, with a mighty lunge, the lieutenant sank his rampant spear of flesh to the hilt. Bebe screamed in shock, but her body responded, humping back to absorb all the rigid staff of flesh that threatened to rip her apart.
She no longer cared, as she began to churn her hips wildly, feeling him ream and thrust in perfect rhythm, and his cum-heavy balls smacking the lips of her distended pussy even as Maria's soft mouth sucked on her clitoris and her tongue teased it wildly.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck meeee!" she chanted.
Maria lifted her head, her dark curling hair tumbling over Bebe's quaking belly.
"Bebe," she said softly, "it's only the beginning. Now we're going to sandwich you!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bebe did not understand the term, but she didn't care. Anything they wanted to do with her was beautiful!
Abruptly, Maria drew back, and into her place moved the sergeant, Hanson, his long thick cock rigid and throbbing with an undeniable virility. He pressed in tight against her belly as Dalt Edwards rammed wildly into her straining little anus. Suddenly she realized what Maria had meant by "sandwich".
"I can't take both of you at once!" she protested.
"Sure you can, Bebe. You'll love it, once they both get in," Maria assured her.
Trembling in anticipation, Bebe allowed her long trembling legs to be spread wide. Buried deep in the hot buttery depths of her rectum, the lieutenant paused and waited for his partner to position himself. Bebe saw the blood-swollen head of his cock, and then it disappeared into the forest of her blonde pubic hair, and she felt it pushing into the dilated, fleshy folds of her cuntal lips. She was flowing wet, but didn't see how she could take it. But she was sure the lust-driven cop would get it into her somehow, if he had to cut her open! She whimpered in pain and fright as he jerked his hips forward and his thick fleshy rod of flesh penetrated the outer lips of her vagina and centered on the opening of her cuntal channel. In abject resignation, she closed her eyes and awaited her fate.
"Now!" the lieutenant said. "Fuck her!"
Like a torpedo, his long rigid maleness plowed up into the very depths of her futilely clenching cunt. Bebe screamed at the top of her lungs as she felt it tear into her, with only the thin membrane of her vaginal and rectal passages separating it from the hot pulsing penis already deeply buried in her lewdly-stretched rectal passage. The two men locked their arms around her nakedly squirming body and held her immobile as she sobbed, and then gradually her tears ceased as she felt her violated young body stretching, adjusting to the dual impalement.
"In and out," the lieutenant said with a grin. "A one, and a two, and a three and FUCK HER!!!!"
They began thrusting their thick rigid cocks in and out of her tightly clasping cunt and anus in perfect rhythm. Bebe could feel the virile staffs rubbing against each other deep in her belly. They began slowly, and then speeded their pace, never missing a beat. She was buffeted between them like a tennis ball, feeling Edwards' hard-muscled belly smack against the soft curves of her buttocks and then the sergeant's bony pelvis ramming hard against her vaginal mound.
"Aaaaasuuuuuggghhhh ... 'Toooohhhhhh!!!" she cried, but the fucking went on relentlessly, one long hard cock ramming into her as the other withdrew, only to plunge again into the steaming depths of her trembling loins. Soon, the naked young blonde reached a peak where pain turned to pleasure, and her sensually quivering body wildly responded to the obscene double penetration, and she began to gasp, "Oooooh, gooood! Fuck! Both of you fuck hard! Get your pricks way up in me! Fuck ... FUCK MEEEEEEEE!!!!"
The lust-crazed blonde could never have imagined anything like this. It wasn't the love she had vainly sought with Fargo Gonzales. Now she realized she wasn't programmed for love. She was built to fuck! To be violated, humiliated, used by men! That was what she needed! Only through being completely subjugated could she find pleasure.
And now Maria was moving in again, kissing her breasts, chewing and sucking the nipples, arousing her to an even higher peak. When Maria shifted, pushing the sergeant's muscular torso out of the way and lowered her dark-haired cunt over Bebe's gaping mouth, Bebe urgently speared her tongue into the sweetly heated depths.
Furiously the four figures strained, each giving and taking wildly. Her face smothered with the wet softness of Maria's pussy, Bebe Randolph felt herself cumming, and began to fuck with her cunt and ass and tongue, wanting them all to cum together.
She suddenly succeeded. She felt the two hotly throbbing cocks slam in unison up into her heaving belly and spurt their heated loads of sperm into her yearning body just as her own orgasm rippled like a killer-quake through her ecstatically trembling pussy. At the same moment her mouth was filled with the honeyed fluids flowing from Maria's convulsing young cunt. She swallowed in an unending delight as her deep vaginal and rectal muscles milked the two men dry. Finally, they lay panting together in a wild tangle of arms and legs and bodies.
Somebody-Bebe was never sure who passed around cigarettes and then made coffee, which was laced with brandy. They sat naked, their bodies smelling strongly of passion, and drank and smoked.
Nobody mentioned Fargo Gonzales and his friends.
* * *
Something had filtered back to the agency. Matt Matthers called Bebe in and began to pry. He wanted to know about Fargo. Bebe had taken an interest in the boy, and suddenly he wasn't on the job. How come?
"Fuck off," Bebe said. "None of your business."
"Oh, it's that way," the agent said, lewdly knowingly. "I wondered if you had something going with the kid."
"You wonder too damn much. You just see that I sell records and get the TV spots and leave Fargo to me," she shot back. "If that kid worked at it, he'd have your job in five years. And you can scrub the combo. I'm going solo."
She strode from the plush fiftieth floor office and punched the hot Citroen hard all the way to Santa Barbara, her mind only half on her driving.
Bebe Randolph felt she had a bill to pay, and she didn't know how to do it. She would have to tap the lieutenant's methodical cop mind, and he was waiting for her at home as he had been off and on for three wonderfully erotic weeks now.
"My head's fucked," she announced as she entered the big, remote house to find him with a bourbon-and-branch in hand, critically watching the progress of a prime rib roast that was turning over the open fire. In the kitchen, vegetables were cooking and he was baking brown bread. It had amazed Bebe to discover the tough cop loved to bake. "How long is that hunk of steer going to take?"
"About an hour," he replied.
"We've got time to fuck ... I need to pick your brain."
In less than a minute, she was on the big bed and he was on her, deep in her, his thick throbbing cock surging into her softly yielding cunt. He brought her up and up and up until her pussy exploded and blew the bad scene at the agency out of her mind. Then she could talk.
She put it together piece by piece, trying to make him understand, but the lieutenant couldn't at first.
"You want to chuck it and go solo. Okay! That's a bummer group they stuck you with. But to get mixed up with that spick kid again ... Jesus, honey!"
"I am not going to 'get mixed up with that spick kid again,' lover," she said firmly. "But I-I owe him. And Maria. I mean, I was really fucked up. It was rough, but they got me moving, and then you came along and now it's cool. I mean that. You're great for me!"
She paused, staring out the window, and began again. You taught that boy a hell of a lesson. He is going to be one well-behaved hound dog. But Dalt, he's had a hell of a lousy life. He wants to get ahead, and so he tried to use me. The only thing he knew how to do. Damn it, I need somebody to tote and carry, and the devil you know is better than the devil you don't know. Agreed?"
"Can't argue with that." He had found he could never argue successfully with Bebe Randolph. She could beat him to death with her tongue. And he'd run a hard check on the kid and found that he was clean. He'd kept his mouth shut about being thrashed, and nobody else had beefed. Finally he said, "It's your life. I can't live it for you."
"And I couldn't live yours," she said. "You and I ... we take what we can and run. I wouldn't ask you to stop being a cop for me. That would cut your nuts off. We've got a good thing this way. I'd like to see it stay this way with us until...." She shrugged. "We've got a good thing."
"We sure as hell have," he agreed, looking down at his now-shrunken penis. "That roast should be done. Hungry?"
Between them they ate almost the entire four-pound prime rib, and then the lieutenant mounted his white BMW and gunned it down the coast highway toward L.A. He had command of the night watch out of Van Nuys.
Bebe Randolph watched the red spark of his taillight disappear and waited a half hour before going to the phone.
She dialed the number from memory, and did not identify herself when she heard Fargo Gonzales' voice.
"I need a stage manager, baby. Come see me ... and make sure you bring Maria."
She hung up and from a hidden alcove took a kilo of genuine Acapulco Gold, a small machine sold by the Bugler tobacco people, several folders of Zig-Zag wheat paper, and began rolling numbers.
What the hell! If she had to live two lives, then she might as well get the most out of each....
